|
|
Sunday, July 15th, 2007
| |
1:27 pm - Taj Mahal Bedda-land-da-bid.
|
In other words, Taj Mahal had better land the bid.
Well land the bid, it did. The mammoth Mughal mausoleum will live on as one of the few wonders of Middle Ages that made it to the n7w list. Congratulations, India. Pat yourself on the back.
Don’t get me wrong here. Neither am I a fan of National Lampoon comedies, nor did I ‘Vote for Taj’. I understand I am late by a week to join the frustration-about-the-n7w-blogathon, but since this has been running in my mind for a long while... I decided to put it down.
First off- yes, frustration. Agreed that it’s a nice feeling to know that a part of your identity gets recognized worldwide. It’s just that there have been a lot of questions running in my mind for a while.
Question number 1: Why the Taj..? I personally cannot deny the romanticism of a massive mausoleum built by a man in memory of his wife, neither can I put in words how fraught with emotions I was when I personally visited the monument (picture that scene from The Namesake, where the Ganguli family sees the Taj for the first time). However, I strongly feel we are only subscribing to the stereotype that the rest of world wants to see us with (the kind of stereotype that makes characters like Taj Mahal Badalandabad who hail from cities like ‘Banglapuc’ in India).
Or is it we refuse to free ourselves from the chains of our myopic view of where our strengths of being Indian lie? Again, why the Taj? Why not the Big Temple at Tanjore? Why not the Meenakshi Amman Temple at Madurai? Why not any of our beautiful forts from Rajasthan? If the Eiffel Tower of Paris was so ‘wonder’ful, I don’t see how even our very own Howrah Bridge of Calcutta doesn’t qualify.
[I think I may have just answered my own question: is there no other modern Indian architectural splendor that we may consider ourselves worthy of?]
Second question; regarding the poor Ancient Pyramids of Giza. Undemocratic means of voting for a farcical global competition deemed these ancient mystical human creations less ‘wondrous’ than a medieval Mughal creation one-third the size of the largest pyramid. I don’t scoff at the Taj Mahal, but I think you have to be to both the monuments, like I have, to know what I mean. The question is, if there are meant to be only SEVEN wonders of the world, how do we make room for ‘honorary’ wonders? As one blogger put it so well, ‘even the Wonders of the World have the lifetime achievement category’.
Thirdly, I want to question the basis on which these nominations were ever made. I think it is absolutely unfair to put in the same category- the Taj Mahal, the Sydney Opera House, the Christ Redeemer, or any of the other nominees- for the circumstances in which they were all built are completely different anyway. Ultimately, the list now has the distinction of being the most illogically arranged set of monuments of human endeavor. Excellent. Hmmph.
I ask also, that if this is a NEW list of wonders, why include any of the buildings from the older lists anyway? New list, fresh start, new buildings. Move on. Even if it meant that India wouldn’t figure in the picture. Maybe it would inspire us to build something for a modern India.
My readings of other blogs have led me to see that the entire scam aimed at arousing patriotic emotions to the benefit of a for-profit organization, which is NOT recognized by the UNESCO, or any other such United Nations body, (a fact that one other blogger compares to as being ‘no better than MTV’s “Youth Icon of the Year”’). The power of the internet as a medium is highly underestimated in the role it plays in the average user’s information base. If you have entered numbers in your cell phone’s phonebook as ‘dangerous’ after have received the email warning you about high frequency phonecalls, or if you threw away all your lipsticks because you were worried about lead poisoning, then you might not exactly know what I’m talking about. Or maybe you do.
Which brings me to the conclusion that the ‘Vote for Taj’ was just a bigger and more deliberate internet scam (disguised by a high profile televised finale with globally recognized celebrities at Lisbon) than the G.Vaidyaraj e-mail forwarded to nearly every Indian in the name of feeding the starved patriot within all of us.
How brilliantly executed is this? ‘Vote for Taj’ was not an ordinary internet hoax, for there was a website to the name of the n7w. It didn’t seem like a rumor or a farce, for there was to be a grand finale to the event. And yet, to think it was the brainchild of a master-businessman who played on what gets the normal person.. it almost reminds me of Annu Kapoor crying on the sets of Antakshari, while Durga Jasraj/Pallavi Joshi/Shefali Chhaya tried just as hard to shed tears in the name of those who brought us our freedom.
PAUSE POINT: why do we Indians cling to the ghosts of our collective past, and insist of revering the milestones of our past until they turn into gravestones of our very being? The achievements of yesterday are etched on the epitaphs that we carry upon ourselves.
On the subject of the Statue of Liberty no longer being a ‘wonder’ of the world, I personally find it rather hard to believe that the number of internet-accessing or mobile telephone-toting people in India far exceed the number of such people in the U S of A. Also, if it were possible to BUY votes online, priced at $2 (nearly a 100 rupees!) a vote, then I don’t see how it could’ve stopped many Americans from buying themselves a way into finding jingoistic satisfaction on 07-07-07.
While still on the subject of Statue of Liberty and Taj Mahal, I wonder how many Indian comedy films have firang characters called Liberty NewYorkville or Champs de Eileen-sys (yes, you read my mind. I am not at all amused by the name of the Indian character – Taj Mahal Badalandabad- that Kal Penn plays for Van Wilder. In fact, I think it’s disgusting).
The only reason I woke up on the morning of 07-07-07 with a smile was because it marked 30 years of my father setting foot on Arab soil. And although I may not be too proud of the fact that I was a Gulf-bred kid (for I too am marked by a stereotype- the Gulfie Brat stereotype- which I despise), it is still a milestone in our lives.
Concluding words: Stereotypes anger me. But I also realize that the world is far too big and far too complicated.. and ‘worldians’ far too ignorant and far too self-obsessed to regards every case as unique and look at new things in new light. It is in our nature to classify and organize, and therefore, classify and organize we must. And be classified and organized we must. Stereotypes will live on, whether you and I like it or not.
I can only hope that, as a people, we break the proverbial mould someday. And on that day, I’d like to watch a Bollywood comedy where the hero says to the French exchange student sitting next to him, “Aye Eiffel, vouz le vouz… kya?”
current mood:  cynical
current music: led zeppelin - since i've been loving you
|
|
(comment on this)
|
| Friday, June 8th, 2007
| |
12:43 am - a pome about school.....
|
|
Footsteps beating
down the ol' corridor
stir awake sleeping dreams
and memories of yore...
of homework and of sleepy mornings
of breakfast on the go
of starchy discipline and perfect uniform
of those days so long ago.
of a giggle here and a guffaw there
of belly laughs on the floor
of hushed up secrets and pin drop silence
of recess gossip galore.
But now, I stand a stranger to these faces
but a loved one of the stone
still a critic of the system- then why
is it so hard to let go?
(...a poem from my oldest blog. I couldn't resist the urge to repost it ! )
current mood:  nostalgic
current music: how long has it been since i listened to music?
|
|
(comment on this)
|
| Wednesday, June 6th, 2007
| |
1:29 am - Ka-ching !
|
I'm not sure if it was euphemisms, or just plain ignorance, that kept me from recognising in the past (and in the words of a 'long lost friend') that 'MONEY SPEAKS'.
Hell, I'd be my own best friend if I were a li'l richer. ;)
current mood:  42 degrees!
current music: Ian Moore - A New Day
|
|
(1 comment | comment on this)
|
| Tuesday, May 8th, 2007
| |
5:54 pm - Grey-scale
|
It's a thing with being human. There is the concept of the individual, and then there is the concept of the collective. Being an urban designer, I'd like to refer to them as the realms of the private and that of the public.
Different building typologies (er, categories in simple english) have varying levels of penetration of the public realm into their private inners/domains. I believe it's true of the human as well. We cast into concrete what we are; and what we are... is not dictated by a water-tight container concept. Everybody is made up of layers of porous and penetrable membranes that let in only particles/grains of a particular kind. Buildings are similar too, but since they don't have a brain, they can't decide whom to let in when and where, but they can be made to do so. Like a collonaded public building in a crowded urban square/park, or a neat little house with a nice lawn in the front, or one of these fancy shop/office buildings along CG road, . Don't they all send out different signals to passers-by?
Ultimately though, it's all about shades of grey.
And for all the years that I've spent cocooned and unwilling to go by gut-instinct... I can't believe it took me so long to figure out that all along the signals displayed were darkest possible shades of grey. What a let down!
current mood:  cranky
current music: Shalin Shodhan- A Cup of Tea for Two
|
|
(comment on this)
|
| Saturday, March 24th, 2007
| |
7:51 pm - Burn, Flower, Burn
|
The flame burnt beautifully that evening.
It was a very simply arranged apparatus: a wax candle placed carefully among fragrant flowers, suspended and balanced carefully in a glass partly filled with water.
The three of us looked on, as the flame burnt taller and stronger. One of us let slip a comment on how the fragrance of the flowers was not perceivable over the burning flame.
This thus having been said, the flame suddenly grew in size and in one neat second, extinguished itself.
As three friends sat in silent sudden shock, it occured to us that perhaps the flower just might have wanted someone to appreciate its fragrance.
Creepy.
Yet, true. For nothing smelt to us as beautiful ever as that one flower at the table.
current mood:  pensive
current music: strings- najaaney kyon
|
|
(4 comments | comment on this)
|
| Saturday, December 23rd, 2006
| |
5:41 am - Declaration
|
I believe that there are two ways of looking at life: the pessimists' or optimists' outlook. Now before you cry stereotype here, I must tell you... That's all that there really is to it.
My Hypothesis: Change is something that is inevitable. Whether it is initiation or infliction, it is undoubtedly and ultimately inevitable. I believe that when something changes (or is changed), a pessimist considers it a 'finale'. An optimist regards it as... the beginning.
I'd go with the optimistic outlook... it's happened too many times until now.
current mood:  melancholy
current music: the carpenters
|
|
(2 comments | comment on this)
|
| Saturday, December 16th, 2006
| |
11:40 pm - You have all my sympathy!
|
My cousin and I were travelling home from Bombay a few days ago.
Thanks to a pilot friend of his, we managed the great upgrade from economy to business class. I celebrated the event by spilling spple juice on our economy seats and smiling unabashedly at the indian rugby player moving to occupy it (parenthesis: well it WAS an accident.. double parenthesis: it ALWAYS is)...
I have to admit the two of us were absolutely thrilled and could do nothing but gloat over the whole thing.
Dinner in business class is never to be scoffed at... and tht evening was no exception. The dessert, however, that they served was not to my taste... souffle, only it appeared to be made of unripened mangoes. I had polished the rest of my plate and was having difficulty shoving this one down my throat.
To this my cousin said, "Anju," with a grin on his face, "think of all those poor, poor economy class passengers who cannot afford to eat this...!!"
I guess that did the trick.
current mood:  amused
current music: none, really
|
|
(comment on this)
|
| Sunday, September 3rd, 2006
| |
7:38 pm - Who am I ... ?
|
On the 13th of October, 1982, a pregnant woman lay in labour at the Nataraj Nursing Home in Egmore, Chennai. She has a long association with the city, having been born and brought up there. By her side was her mother, Keralite at her very core (having grown up in Kerala and only moving out to Tamil Nadu after marriage to an equally hard-core Keralite gentleman working as a civilian in the Indian Air Force), and faithful in her duty of imparting her Malayalee-ness to her three children as well.
In the hospital were also the pregnant woman's father, younger sister and brother. All three siblings bore more or less the same amount of Malayalee-ness within them, with a tinge of Tamil-ity that was needed to survive the city.
Late evening arrived. The cries of the woman in labor gave way to the cries of a newborn. It's a girl! informed the Tamil obstetrician in charge of the situation. Heaven be praised, thought the father and immediately made arrangements to send a telegram to the father of the child who was not present at the time.
-----------------------------------------------------
In the hot and arid deserts of Arabia, life was moving at a normal pace for the employees of a government petroleum corporation. In an air-conditioned technical lab, sat a young man in his early 30's. He had chanced upon this job quite accidentally. Now that you're done with you post-graduation, said his brother-in-law (his elder sister's husband), why don't you come down over here to the Middle East and try out your luck?
After pondering the situation over, the young man decided to set forth and pursue his career far away from home. Having been a Keralite born and brought up by Keralite parents in Mumbai, his own cosmopolitan soul felt the need for the discovery of lands beyond home. What sounded like a good option at the time seemed to have set destiny for the young man, for three years later he had married and brought his young bride back.
Two years since then, while sitting in his air-conditioned technical lab, a telegram reached him. It read:
WIFE HAS DELIVERED STOP HEALTHY BABY GIRL STOP ON EVENING OF 13TH OCTOBER STOP
The young man sent a prayer of thanks to God above and made his preparations to visit his wife and newborn child. All the while, he could not stop dreaming of the good life that lay ahead of him and his new family. The life that he would provide for his newborn baby, living right there in the lap of luxury in the middle of the desert.
---------------------------------------------------------------
---------------------------------------------------------------
Well, I'm quite sure that you guys would've guessed by now that the little baby born was me, and that the young man and his wife in question are my parents. The need to dramatize this little beginning is something I have felt quite strongly, and it is precisely because the confusion that I carry about my identity is possibly best described dramatized. Anyway, the show must go on....
----------------------------------------------------------------
Nearly four years after the birth of their daughter, the couple went ahead to have a son. Now they were one happy family, like many other happy Indian families in the Middle East. Their daughter was picking up languages very quickly and turned into a voracious reader at home. Conversation though, were picked up mostly in English, for the father (though 100% Keralite in name and blood) was more comfortable in the languages he spoke when he grew up in Mumbai, which unfortunately didn't include Malayalam.
Nevertheless, the children were quick learners.
A few years later, when they were both in school, going back home to India became an annual event where relatives were visited in both Mumbai and Chennai. The little girl, who had turned into quite a talkative little child, used to love telling her friends, "first we'll go to Bombay, where my father's parents live, and then next month we'll go to Madras, where my mother's parents live.", she'd say. "Then when will you go to Kerala?" an innocent girl would ask her... "Oh no, we don't go there... nobody lives there anymore", was the very prompt answer. Her younger brother had it much easier on his understanding, he was only learning to talk then.
in 1990, the simplicity of the issue was compounded when the little girl's paternal grandparents made the Big Move from Bombay to their home in Kerala, for reasons regarding her grandfather's health. After that, a visit to Kerala for a few days every year became quite mandatory.
But those were the wonder years. Identified as a Malayalee by the school because her chosen Third Language at school being Malayalam, life might've been easier to comprehend. However, both brother and sister were constantly being shunned out of typical Malayalee friend cirlces because they didn't speak enough Malayalam, and weren't 'Malayalee' enough. Oh well, we can make better friends, they decided. And so the friends they made were either NOT Malayalee, or tolerant Malayalee, or messed up Malayalees just like them.
The complexity of the matter increased when the girl left school and joined up a Government College in Chennai for a professional degree. Being a Govt institution, most of the other students were 100% Tamil, having grown up somewhere or the other within the state. Having to explain the exact intricacies of her lineage was something this girl just didn't enjoy. Not having a hint of the language didn't help.
What really bothered her was the question that constantly cropped up in her head.
Where do I belong?
All her friends has some strong solid lineage that defined them as Tamil, Malayalee, Bengali or even Marathi. And even if this was a haze for a certain some, the language they predominantly spoke gave them a place and an identity that they didn't seem to mind having.
Now, she used to think. I'm supposed to speak Malayalam, which I can, but not too fluently. I'm also supposed to belong here because I was born here and my mom is from here and my grandparents STILL live here... but since I don't speak the language, I'm not considered to belong from here. The place I grew up in is NOT my country (I still don't speak their language). If I wanted to masquerade as someone else I couldn't, because my surname gives me away as a 100% Keralite. I speak Hindi. I prefer to make friends who speak English, Hindi or the little Malayalam that I speak. My mom cooks food for me that only people in Kerala would. But I can't look at the sky and predict rain like the ordinary Malayalee does. I can't oil my hair and wait patiently for it to grow. I am not comfortable in the silk blouses and skirts that I'm supposed to wear. I pierce my ears because it's fashionable and don't hesitate to do so thinking it is not what the Malayalees do...
Who the hell am I?
------------------------------------------------------------------
Five years and a professional degree later, the confusion never subsided, but only gave way to a lot more.
For five years later, this girl sank so well into all that was decidedly Tamil that she felt she was born with a Tamil streak within her.
After moving away from Chennai, the now young lady moved temporarily to Ahmedabad where she could pursue her further studies. But then began the start of something she couln't quite help herself with: placing herself on the Identity Map.
"So, where are you from?"
"er, (safest answer first) Chennai."
"okay, so you're Tamil?"
"er, well... not really. I'm a Keralite."
"Oh, I see. So you've grown up in Chennai."
"(Should I lie?) well, I had been there the last five years."
"And where were you before that?"
"(Here we go again....) You see, I grew up outside the country...."
And, whatever.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Like I said at my freshers party here at Ahmedabad.... basically, I'm from Kerala... 'acid'ically i'm from Chennai... and 'neutrally' I'm from the Gulf.
And if I marry a non-Malayalee, God bless my kids.
Amen.
current mood:  GAWD i have a lotta work to do
current music: LAGE RAHO MUNNABHAI!
|
|
(10 comments | comment on this)
|
| Saturday, July 1st, 2006
| |
5:46 pm - darwin dreams
|
Hippopotamus is Greek for ‘River Horse’. Interesting.
I guess that means that horses at the time of the ancient Greek were real ugly…or evolution left the Hippopotamus way behind.
Food for thought!
current mood:  bouncy
current music: Bally Sagoo - Aaja Nachle
|
|
(5 comments | comment on this)
|
| Friday, June 16th, 2006
| |
1:04 am - Gender Fender Bender
|
If God had willed for women and men to be equal, and at par....
...the 'home-maker' would have been a long-lost phenomenon.
but i still maintain the female is the superior of the sexes! AMEN!
current mood: pensive
current music: Soundtrack of 'Gangster'
|
|
(10 comments | comment on this)
|
| Friday, December 23rd, 2005
| |
1:02 pm - ... and he was told
|
"You can only talk... you don't work at all."
I think the prof realised it was too crude a statement to be made by the HOD of the department. He diplomatically added, "You are interested in the subject in one aspect, but you do not follow up with the necessary ground work that is required for a course of this nature.."
In short, you are all fart and no shit. :)
BUAHAHAHAHAHA...
current mood:  pleased
current music: Jal- Aadat
|
|
(7 comments | comment on this)
|
| Tuesday, December 13th, 2005
| |
4:38 am - **SIGH**
|
It was a dreary day. After having been yelled at for not meeting a deadline with quality, and having to cancel a trip to Mumbai that we were all looking forward to, the cup of tea was too bland to soothe my nerves. I took comfort in holding the warm cup in my hand and stared ahead at the volleyball game a few people were playing some distance away.
"Honestly", I told her, "I always thought you were the best person for this course..."
"So did I", she replied blankly, never taking her eyes off the game.
We call her "2 Fast 2 Furious" and "Gone in 60 Seconds" cuz she's so restless she never remains in one place long enough for you to realise her presence. We've always pulled her leg about how she changes her mind faster than she makes it...
KoDe wants to drop out. I'm the only person who knows... and I wanna scream to the rest of the world to help me make her change her mind.
Apart from the fact that I'll be missing her as a good friend I made over the last 6 months, I dunno whether her telling me has kindled alive all my insecurities I've lived with so far. I thought everybody was insecure in some way or the other. I thought it was normal to feel this way. I thought battling it was one way of not turning coward to life.
Memories of me crying over the phone to my parents came flooding back...
"I'm just doing the wrong thing at the wrong time...", she had told me.
A big question mark raised itself within me. Do I live with my insecurities and face them as every passing day goes until I finish the course and look back at how silly I was... or do I face them and just make a decision that won't waste my time, my energy or my money and just do what I want to do?
But what is it that I want to do?
This is one time I wish KoDe would change her mind...
current mood:  depressed
current music: The Corrs - No Frontiers
|
|
(1 comment | comment on this)
|
| Tuesday, November 29th, 2005
| |
1:30 pm - Fear...
|
Of the many 'Chhotus' in the mess that I've recently joined, there always has been one who attracted my attention the most. I'll call him Chhotu_fave.
Chhotu_fave has this cherubic smile on his face. I wouldn't call it ever-ready, but when its there its captivating. Other Chhotus flash their smiles, but I wait for the one instant for chhotu_fave to hesitantly smile. He is no taller than 4 feet (or less maybe), has wheatish-fairish complexion and wears stone flower studs on his ears. His eyes have a smoky kajal look (if it is kajal, then someone must be taking good care of him!).
Last night I went to the mess for dinner with KoDe and Archie. Chhotu_fave came to our table and laid the thalis in front of us, and proceeded to drop a spoon into each thali. Only when he started with Archie's he accidentally dropped two instead of one.
In the two seconds before he could bring himself to take it out, I saw a hint of fear in his eyes; the fear of being yelled at or scolded. Fortunately for him, Archie picked up one spoon and dropped it into my plate.
To all those in the world who protest against child labor... here's my two-pennies worth: whoever's responsible for the fear i saw in chhotu_fave's eyes... i hope him and the likes of him never find peace on earth.
Of course, fear is not just about innocence. The other day, the entire class went on a site visit to check out the allotted site for the new studio on urban extensions. This time I sat behind Kul. When this fellow's on his Pulsar, there's no telling what'll happen. As a person I don't really favor speed (especially if I'm at the wheel), and Kul insisted on bursting into spurts of speed rides where he'd hit a 110 kmph on the speedo. :| Ever sat on a ride and said your prayers sincerely? Been there, done that :)
Fear... being afraid. Reminds me of this li'l funny thing that happened many years ago when I was in the +2.
Freeze uncle calls up at home and asks for my dad. I happened to pick up the phone and politely replied to him saying, "I'm afraid dad's not at home."
His prompt answer was, "Really? Now why should you be afraid??"
GAAAAAAAA.....
current mood:  okay
current music: Coat of Many Colors- Dolly Parton
|
|
(5 comments | comment on this)
|
| Tuesday, November 22nd, 2005
| |
7:58 pm - Cheers to a New Beginning...
|
Being new to LiveJournal... does not in any way mean I'm new to blogging... or LJing. Somehow penning (or keying) me thoughts on the internet never lived a life of more than a few months.
Here's to the revival of the writer in me. May this blog see the light of many posts to come in the future!!
CHEERS!!
current mood: cheerful
current music: Bawra mann dekhne chala ek sapna
|
|
(3 comments | comment on this)
|
|
|
|
|
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
pheno_menon's journal