Election season is no doubt the most entertaining period in a nation’s history. And savvy media in these times has taken the tamasha to another level. Your mind sees a rush of emotions – helpless laughter, cynicism, sarcasm, anger, sadness. Usually anger triumphs over other emotions at some point, courtesy some idiotic politician.
This time round, I would like to bestow the honour on Mulayam Singh Yadav, and the Samajwadi Party’s manifesto. I cant call it shocking; perhaps it is a tad annoying. But mostly, it angers you, and makes you want to pull your hair. Really, Mr. Yadav? No English in Hindi Des? No use of computers?
Let’s start by planning your itinerary ji. Wait, you possibly aren’t involved, in this busy election period. May be your PA would know better? Hang on, he needs a print out, to walk you through it. Aha! Alas, it comes from a computer no?
Let’s move on to those many flights and trains (really?) you take. No ticket reservations ji? I think I remember you saying on TV that you think computers should not be used where work can be done manually. Why not? Shall we wait 7 days for your ticket to arrive to transport you to the next city for a rally ji? Oh hell, did I just forget you don’t need a ticket anywhere?
I struggle to think of ways you use a computer in UP ji. And then it strikes me – you cant possibly know what role technology plays, given you spend all your time in UP (except Nithari of course) ji?
May be then, your sons could provide perspective. They’re my generation, it seems – I am all for the youth ji!
Apologies, but I am a big computer junkie. So I googled this – “Mulayam Singh Yadav son educated” and guess what I found sir. (Do ask your son to explain google to you ji – it may well be part of your slogan in the next elections - Bole har search google, Mahan SP ka cycle!)
Anyways, not to digress – this is what I found ji – your own son is considered one of the best users of IT, to reach a wider audience (now now, Akhilesh is a little pesumptious). Not only that, he is educated in English medium, is an Engineer (in keeping with popular English speaking elitist choice of this generation) and even did a higher degree from Sydney. No, before you think otherwise – you may not understand their accents, but they speak English too ji.
http://www.expressindia.com/latest-news/mulayams-son-eyes-net-gain/444950/
Hailing from Etawah-one of the most backward towns of UP-35-year-old Akhilesh is perhaps the only politician of Gen X, at least in the state, who is making full use of information technology to gain political mileage. And why not? With a diploma in Environment Engineering from University of Sydney, Australia, Akhilesh has done his BTech from University of Mysore, Karnataka
His close associate Anurag Yadav confirms: “Bhaiya motivates all youth members of Yuvjan Sabha and Chhatra Sabha to use the Internet to stay connected. Most of them have started using the net”. The site is professionally managed and a team of IT experts tag along with Akhilesh, who is always equipped with his laptop wherever he goes.
May be you should hire some talented IT bhaiyas ji, too get all this off the websites, before someone more powerful finds them? I assure you, many good English speaking institutes outside of UP provide such talent ji.
Is it time to move onto your better half in the SP, Amar Singhji? I haven’t sent that man on TV without a fancy gadget ji. Unfortunately, I don’t have the connections to observe him in person. May be he and his friends can set a sweet example in your honour ji? They can collect at Shivaji Park, and burn all the laptops in their large houses in a symbolic gesture? After all, this is one business none of them is really into yet ji.
Should we really move onto the Angrezi bit ji? Unfortunately, the irony does not escape me – I will have to continue in English. I can speak Hindi, but can’t type in Hindi on the computer ji. Double whammy no?
No English should be spoken in Hindi des. It is hard to tackle this one without being branded elitist ji. I must confess – I started in a convent, and went onto graduate class 10 from one of the best English speaking schools in my city. Tough one. But then ji, I knew I could trust my computer. All I did was google this – Spoken English in Uttar Pradesh and I am so spoilt for choice ji – it is more confusing than amusing!
Everyone around you, except you of course seems to be focused on speaking English. And of course yours being a high density population state, is hard to ignore for the English speaking – opportunity smelling corporate variety. After all, the non-elitist average UPite seems quite gung-ho about speaking English. And there are so many of them!
I can safely and proudly bullshit the elitist argument this one time ji. Leave my blog ranting aside, someone has actually bothered to research this – a few minutes on this may open your eyes? Don’t worry, we wont tell anyone your PA shot a print-out from the computer.
http://www.hku.hk/clear/conference08/doc/handouts/VERMA%20Meenakshi%20H_handout.pdf
And finally, haha … this is really the proverbial nail ji. May be you said no computers, because this is the age of Blackberrys ji?
On Facebook, he has over 300 regular members and on Orkut there are over 1,000. “This is the best was to communicate with friends and well wishers,” says Akhilesh, who mostly does his net communication through Blackberry while travelling.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Monday, March 16, 2009
On a totally related / unrelated note ...
... I love this song. Would love to research and find out more about it.
I wonder what could have possibly prompted someone to write these lyrics...
Jo ab kiye ho daata, aisa na kijoagle janam mohe bitiya na kijo
Humre sajanwa humra dil aisa todin
O ghar basa-in humka rasta ma chodin
jaise ki lalla koi khilona jo pahwe
dui char din to khele phir bhool jaave
ro bhi na pahve aisi gudiya na kijo
agle janam mohe bitiya na kijoagle janam mohe bitiya na kijojo ab kiye ho daata aisa na kijoagle janam mohe bitiya na kijo
Aisi bidai bolo dekhi kahi hai
maiya na babul bhaiya kaunu nahi haiho,
ansu ke gehne hai aur dukh ki hai doli
band kevadiya more ghar ki boli
is aur sapno mein bhi aaya na kijous aur bhi sapno mein bhi aaya na kijoagle janam mohe bitiya na kijojo ab kiye ho daata aisa na kijoagle janam mohe bitiya na kijoagle janam mohe bitiya na kijo…
www.varshita.net
I wonder what could have possibly prompted someone to write these lyrics...
Jo ab kiye ho daata, aisa na kijoagle janam mohe bitiya na kijo
Humre sajanwa humra dil aisa todin
O ghar basa-in humka rasta ma chodin
jaise ki lalla koi khilona jo pahwe
dui char din to khele phir bhool jaave
ro bhi na pahve aisi gudiya na kijo
agle janam mohe bitiya na kijoagle janam mohe bitiya na kijojo ab kiye ho daata aisa na kijoagle janam mohe bitiya na kijo
Aisi bidai bolo dekhi kahi hai
maiya na babul bhaiya kaunu nahi haiho,
ansu ke gehne hai aur dukh ki hai doli
band kevadiya more ghar ki boli
is aur sapno mein bhi aaya na kijous aur bhi sapno mein bhi aaya na kijoagle janam mohe bitiya na kijojo ab kiye ho daata aisa na kijoagle janam mohe bitiya na kijoagle janam mohe bitiya na kijo…
www.varshita.net
http://ibnlive.in.com/news/techie-father-throws-newborn-daughter-into-well/87631-3.html?from=search
This (Source: CNN-IBN) piece of news I read over the weekend is disturbing. The alleged father is apparently a gold medallist from a leading Indian University, and two years older than me. He married someone 7 years younger, also a software engineer, and then went on to get her pregnant.
Just 4 days after the baby girl was born, he threw her into the well and killed her, apparently to make his point, rather explicitly, about not getting enough attention from the wife. Lame? Hang on.
The family now alleges there was dowry harassment. He claims he is insane. Of course he is!
Sooner or later, am sure we will hear female infanticide. In any case, infanticide is the only charge they can really book him under right now.
This may well be a one-off, but it angers me. There is more to education than a well-earned technical degree. The experience hopefully makes us more mature, and able to make more sound decisions. He was 29 freaking years old, in a good job, and with access to all the support that the modern world provides. No good came of all that.
Just 4 days after the baby girl was born, he threw her into the well and killed her, apparently to make his point, rather explicitly, about not getting enough attention from the wife. Lame? Hang on.
The family now alleges there was dowry harassment. He claims he is insane. Of course he is!
Sooner or later, am sure we will hear female infanticide. In any case, infanticide is the only charge they can really book him under right now.
This may well be a one-off, but it angers me. There is more to education than a well-earned technical degree. The experience hopefully makes us more mature, and able to make more sound decisions. He was 29 freaking years old, in a good job, and with access to all the support that the modern world provides. No good came of all that.
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Speak up for the moderate identity ...
What happened in Mangalore is shocking. In a state ruled by the BJP, one more form of unfamiliar extremism comes to the fore. And the moderate voice of the Hindu must be heard. Loud and clear.
It is not just a women's issue. It is about a group of potentially unemployed and disillusioned men, being fed a single dogma and opinion, and having access to none other, especially a moderate one.
We need action - swift and conclusive. Disrespecting women is not a cultural standard we set ourselves either. Our tolerance has distinguished us as a civilization for centuries now. And it is this single discerning quality that sets us apart from our neighbours, especially in these confusing times. If we give this up, we give up the right to call others extremist, to judge others as intolerant and divisive, to accuse others of being regressive.
We hear different voices everyday. And in the omnipresent media circus, some voices are amplified more than others. But we cannot let the ignorant believe that the non-descript Sriram sena is the new voice of the Hindu. It definitely is not.
Every time there is Islamic terrorism, we accuse the moderates of not speaking enough. It is time now for the Hindus to show up now. Not just the women, but any Hindu who knows his/her religion. And knows it well enough to believe in the founding ideal of tolerance. And as an off-shoot of that, respect for women and freedom of thought.
The moderate Indian Hindu, who outnumbers the moderate Muslim by manyfold in this country must stand up now more than ever before.
I do. If I mattered to the circus, I would be up there fighting the Senas, tooth for tooth, eye for eye. And to those women in Mangalore: My heart goes out to you. And my head says - speak up, even if it is hard. Even if you are a pawn in a grand game. Speak up. It is what will separate you from the extremists. And the cowards.
It is not just a women's issue. It is about a group of potentially unemployed and disillusioned men, being fed a single dogma and opinion, and having access to none other, especially a moderate one.
We need action - swift and conclusive. Disrespecting women is not a cultural standard we set ourselves either. Our tolerance has distinguished us as a civilization for centuries now. And it is this single discerning quality that sets us apart from our neighbours, especially in these confusing times. If we give this up, we give up the right to call others extremist, to judge others as intolerant and divisive, to accuse others of being regressive.
We hear different voices everyday. And in the omnipresent media circus, some voices are amplified more than others. But we cannot let the ignorant believe that the non-descript Sriram sena is the new voice of the Hindu. It definitely is not.
Every time there is Islamic terrorism, we accuse the moderates of not speaking enough. It is time now for the Hindus to show up now. Not just the women, but any Hindu who knows his/her religion. And knows it well enough to believe in the founding ideal of tolerance. And as an off-shoot of that, respect for women and freedom of thought.
The moderate Indian Hindu, who outnumbers the moderate Muslim by manyfold in this country must stand up now more than ever before.
I do. If I mattered to the circus, I would be up there fighting the Senas, tooth for tooth, eye for eye. And to those women in Mangalore: My heart goes out to you. And my head says - speak up, even if it is hard. Even if you are a pawn in a grand game. Speak up. It is what will separate you from the extremists. And the cowards.
Friday, January 09, 2009
Younger leaders ...
It’s starting to happen – the guard’s changing in Indian politics. It actually started a few months back when 4-5 very young MPs were made ministers of state in various faculties in the central government. Now Omar Abdullah has become Chief Minister of strife ridden Jammu and Kashmir for a whole 6 years.
When the elections were over, it seemed like the senior Abdullah, Dr. Farooq would keep power, but the baton’s been handed. No power sharing gimmicks within the coalition. No wresting from the hands of the old. A simple pass-on.
There has been so much in the media about India finding its own Obama. Can someone with a clean slate, no decades long political history, no dynasty rise to the top in India? Look at our Prime Ministerial candidates for the elections in 2009 – one of them is 80+ years old Advani; the other likely to be one of Manmohan Singh, Pranab Mukherjee, or madam herself. Or worse, we may end up with Mayawati at the centre of it all. Unless, in coming a full circle, we actually end up seeing Rahul Gandhi. My vote in this case is for the sibling.
Well, you can be sceptical and say it is just one rung down in the same old stinking dynasty alley. We’ve seen it from the days of Jawaharlal and Sheikh Abdullah to Rajiv and Farooq, to now Rahul and Omar. Ah well, you could be right. It’s probably routine in the Indian context.
And yet there is some hope. These are a well-qualified, educated generation. They have had access to some of the best schools in the world, worked in the best corporate set-ups, and yet grown up with a unique sensisitivity for ground realities, given their backgrounds. The combination is unique and potent, and perhaps makes for an even more desirable personality than that of Obama’s.
Many of the senior generation are stalwarts, and yet many are tainted with corruption charges. And so you wonder if tax payers’ money may have potentially nurtured many of these bright, young Indians as they grew up. But if even one of them turns out to be worthy of his role and position in Indian governance, I would consider my money well-spent.
When the elections were over, it seemed like the senior Abdullah, Dr. Farooq would keep power, but the baton’s been handed. No power sharing gimmicks within the coalition. No wresting from the hands of the old. A simple pass-on.
There has been so much in the media about India finding its own Obama. Can someone with a clean slate, no decades long political history, no dynasty rise to the top in India? Look at our Prime Ministerial candidates for the elections in 2009 – one of them is 80+ years old Advani; the other likely to be one of Manmohan Singh, Pranab Mukherjee, or madam herself. Or worse, we may end up with Mayawati at the centre of it all. Unless, in coming a full circle, we actually end up seeing Rahul Gandhi. My vote in this case is for the sibling.
Well, you can be sceptical and say it is just one rung down in the same old stinking dynasty alley. We’ve seen it from the days of Jawaharlal and Sheikh Abdullah to Rajiv and Farooq, to now Rahul and Omar. Ah well, you could be right. It’s probably routine in the Indian context.
And yet there is some hope. These are a well-qualified, educated generation. They have had access to some of the best schools in the world, worked in the best corporate set-ups, and yet grown up with a unique sensisitivity for ground realities, given their backgrounds. The combination is unique and potent, and perhaps makes for an even more desirable personality than that of Obama’s.
Many of the senior generation are stalwarts, and yet many are tainted with corruption charges. And so you wonder if tax payers’ money may have potentially nurtured many of these bright, young Indians as they grew up. But if even one of them turns out to be worthy of his role and position in Indian governance, I would consider my money well-spent.
Monday, December 01, 2008
And it's ticking.
On one of those mornings when you simply don’t want to get out of bed, have you imagined a scene where someone you can’t quite see is trying to forcibly prise your eyes open? Like literally using a flat spanner as a lever to pry open those heavy sleep-laden eyelids?
That’s exactly how I feel I am being treated by those terrorists who were at the Taj last week. In a strange way, they have done me and hopefully many other 20 something, rich yuppies some good. They have forced us to wake up and look around us, and not even too far away. For terror struck familiar territory.
Oh no, it wasn’t in those 4 feet wide galis where you went shopping before Diwali, when you were still part of a middle class household. No sir, this time round, you can’t say “Man, I used to go there with my mum to buy diyas every Diwali. I (of course!) haven’t been there in 12 years. Now, you get them at Shoppers’ Stop you see. Thank God!”
If you went to business school in India, and decided to stay back, you probably ended up in South Mumbai, or Gurgaon, which is quite obviously the other sitting duck, for everyone to watch with bated breath now. Thanks to the famous ‘lack of diversity’ syndrome at Indian schools, you should have known a minimum 10 people who were your friends / friend’s friends / friends’ fiancés / friends’ bosses, etc. etc. who were at one of the restaurants, cafes or simply sauntering down the causeway. So no big surprise then that you knew someone who was shot dead/shot at / choked to death in the tragedy. Even if you missed this one, you probably knew someone’s someone who was on the Mumbai local in 1993 or 2006 or 2008 – take your pick. Or may be in the bazaars of Delhi, Hyderabad, Ahmedabad, Guwhati? The malls of Bangalore, Delhi?
It’s almost like, if I had my entire life mapped out, the law of averages is heavily stacked up against me. Like in a video game, I have missed target narrowly multiple times over. Be it city, time, location, method – I have escaped narrowly several times now.
Well then, what more can I possibly be waiting for? If I don’t open my eyes, and do something now, I never will. Yes, sitting on a time bomb feels uncomfortable indeed.
That’s exactly how I feel I am being treated by those terrorists who were at the Taj last week. In a strange way, they have done me and hopefully many other 20 something, rich yuppies some good. They have forced us to wake up and look around us, and not even too far away. For terror struck familiar territory.
Oh no, it wasn’t in those 4 feet wide galis where you went shopping before Diwali, when you were still part of a middle class household. No sir, this time round, you can’t say “Man, I used to go there with my mum to buy diyas every Diwali. I (of course!) haven’t been there in 12 years. Now, you get them at Shoppers’ Stop you see. Thank God!”
If you went to business school in India, and decided to stay back, you probably ended up in South Mumbai, or Gurgaon, which is quite obviously the other sitting duck, for everyone to watch with bated breath now. Thanks to the famous ‘lack of diversity’ syndrome at Indian schools, you should have known a minimum 10 people who were your friends / friend’s friends / friends’ fiancés / friends’ bosses, etc. etc. who were at one of the restaurants, cafes or simply sauntering down the causeway. So no big surprise then that you knew someone who was shot dead/shot at / choked to death in the tragedy. Even if you missed this one, you probably knew someone’s someone who was on the Mumbai local in 1993 or 2006 or 2008 – take your pick. Or may be in the bazaars of Delhi, Hyderabad, Ahmedabad, Guwhati? The malls of Bangalore, Delhi?
It’s almost like, if I had my entire life mapped out, the law of averages is heavily stacked up against me. Like in a video game, I have missed target narrowly multiple times over. Be it city, time, location, method – I have escaped narrowly several times now.
Well then, what more can I possibly be waiting for? If I don’t open my eyes, and do something now, I never will. Yes, sitting on a time bomb feels uncomfortable indeed.
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Nation or religion ... and which terror to go with it?
The Malegaon blasts issue has given birth to a new concept - 'Hindu terror'. On We the People, on NDTV 24x7, the discussion on Hindu terror was based on the premise that while Hindu fundamentalism has been around long enough, perhaps Hindu terror is relatively new, and hence quite confusing to many of us. Considerable airtime was hogged by the whole army angle. About how a national institution of the highest integrity had maligned itself with the rise of the Purohits of the world. The counter of course was that making a generalisation starting with one Purohit and extending to a 12M+ force, was a gross error. Agreed.
Everyone on the show, with great patriotic fervor proclaimed how the army was above all this. It was the most secular of institutions, and no religion was above one's loyalty to the country, and hence the army.It makes you wonder - why is it ok to fight to safeguard the sovereignity of your country, when it is not ok to stand up and say, my religion is superior. Has a time come, when in the natural evolution of the world, religion is going to emerge superior to nation?
PS: Let me clarify that I dont support this emergence. Perhaps, I will perish then, in one of those many blasts, as I dont survive the test of the fittest! Sigh. In fact, I am quite sure I will, especially given I believe I took more naturally to being an Indian as a kid, than a Hindu. Indeed, the world order ain't for me.
And as far as the original topic of debate, Hindu terror, goes, here goes - I think it is naive to assume that religion has no links to terror today. While it is stupid to not acknowledge how much it can motivate terror and terrorists, it is even stupider to hence focus on Islamic terror, over Hindu terror, given their strikingly similar end goal - death and destruction. Let's not waste time over this one.
Sunday, October 05, 2008
A weekend at Unchagaon ...
Finally, I managed to take advantage of being in Delhi – I did a quick weekend trip, into the beautiful countryside, in the adjoining states. Two girl friends and I went to Unchagaon, a little over a 100 km away, in the district of Bulandshahr, east of Delhi, yesterday.
After a laborious drive through Delhi and Ghaziabad, we were briefly on good roads till, the road got expectedly monstrous for a 45 min stretch. A quick right off the Delhi-Moradabad NH24, and we were along a picturesque canal, 20 km away from Fort Unchagaon.
Driving along the canal was exactly the rural India experience you would imagine. A narrow lane, struggling to stay pakka, healthy buffalos barely visible as they lazily let a part of the head stay above muddy water, beautiful women in the brightest sarees, and bullock carts that defined snail’s pace.
Just when we thought this fort was nowhere in sight, bang!, and there it appeared right in the middle of the colourful Saturday bazaar! Having dodged potato carts, tilted cycles, precariously placed large brass turrets, and a few scurrying animals, we were finally within the gates, and sipping into some refreshing lemonade.
The village and adjoining areas were actually a separate kingdom, whose Raja’s abode is today’s heritage resort. A quick tour reveals a large room with the heads of 17 tigers, shot down by the bade sahib. Bade sahib is now over a 100 years old, and lives a lavish life in GK-I. Other royal splendour on display includes swords, silverware and antique furniture. A little dramatic perhaps, but you begin to understand better what they mean when they say India continues to be plundered through the ages.
After a lazy afternoon, we stepped out and drove the 5 km to the Ganga, that flows calmly by the village. It was a beautiful sight – a few villagers sitting on the banks, after a hard day’s work, a boat ferrying people across the breadth of the river, and the sun beginning to show a lovely orange tinge.
In a few minutes, we were aboard the simple wooden boat, being steered by a long pole, into the waters of the Ganga, or Gangaji, as the boatman fondly referred to it. Shots of a beautiful sunset, lame attempts at trying to steer the boat, and some dolphin spotting later, we are back on shore, knowing we have lived the moment of the weekend. There is something calming about the river, and the its harmony with the empty skies, and how the people of the village fit in beautifully. Perhaps, only we stuck out as sore thumbs.
On our way back, we stop at a ganna field, and lick hot gur off our fingers. Also pick up some ganna sticks to rip off later. Our next stop is at a potter’s house, even as he is about to wrap up for the day. Unsuccessful attempts at the wheel are quickly put away, and we end up playing with the most adorable goat kids ever born.
Back at the fort, we indulge in some happy badminton after many years, and I thoroughly enjoy it all. Soon, the evening’s lok geet karyakram begins – 3 men, a harmonium and a dholak regale with local folk songs and some hindi film music from many years back. They end with an extremely insightful song on how Godess Parvati urges Lord Shiva to move with the new fashion. And what defines the change then – wearing baggy pants, buying a maruti car, drinking campa cola, and becoming the new Devanand.
It’s striking. Being in a business which advocates an entry into the Indian market to tap the gold mine so often, and attempting to articulate how customer segments are different, and how rural India is another ball game, I feel like this 1 min song did it so much better.
The other memory that will stay with me forever, is the concept of the ‘Jugaad’. The most common means of transportation in these parts is the Jugaad, and it is literally just that – a vehicle put together from abandoned parts of other vehicles. It is a little like a tractor in the front, with a carriage to seat humans on the back that is pulled. Of course, most times you can hardly see the vehicle, beneath the layers of human beings for whom it is an indispensable lifeline. It is innovative, necessity born, and striking proof of the average Indian’s penchant for the sub-optimal. Jugaad se sab chal jaata hai.
We are back in Delhi, after a relatively quicker drive back, and sign off with Chinese lunch at 3 pm, Sunday afternoon, at a posh restaurant. Guess they don’t make ‘em campa colas no more, in these parts.
After a laborious drive through Delhi and Ghaziabad, we were briefly on good roads till, the road got expectedly monstrous for a 45 min stretch. A quick right off the Delhi-Moradabad NH24, and we were along a picturesque canal, 20 km away from Fort Unchagaon.
Driving along the canal was exactly the rural India experience you would imagine. A narrow lane, struggling to stay pakka, healthy buffalos barely visible as they lazily let a part of the head stay above muddy water, beautiful women in the brightest sarees, and bullock carts that defined snail’s pace.
Just when we thought this fort was nowhere in sight, bang!, and there it appeared right in the middle of the colourful Saturday bazaar! Having dodged potato carts, tilted cycles, precariously placed large brass turrets, and a few scurrying animals, we were finally within the gates, and sipping into some refreshing lemonade.
The village and adjoining areas were actually a separate kingdom, whose Raja’s abode is today’s heritage resort. A quick tour reveals a large room with the heads of 17 tigers, shot down by the bade sahib. Bade sahib is now over a 100 years old, and lives a lavish life in GK-I. Other royal splendour on display includes swords, silverware and antique furniture. A little dramatic perhaps, but you begin to understand better what they mean when they say India continues to be plundered through the ages.
After a lazy afternoon, we stepped out and drove the 5 km to the Ganga, that flows calmly by the village. It was a beautiful sight – a few villagers sitting on the banks, after a hard day’s work, a boat ferrying people across the breadth of the river, and the sun beginning to show a lovely orange tinge.
In a few minutes, we were aboard the simple wooden boat, being steered by a long pole, into the waters of the Ganga, or Gangaji, as the boatman fondly referred to it. Shots of a beautiful sunset, lame attempts at trying to steer the boat, and some dolphin spotting later, we are back on shore, knowing we have lived the moment of the weekend. There is something calming about the river, and the its harmony with the empty skies, and how the people of the village fit in beautifully. Perhaps, only we stuck out as sore thumbs.
On our way back, we stop at a ganna field, and lick hot gur off our fingers. Also pick up some ganna sticks to rip off later. Our next stop is at a potter’s house, even as he is about to wrap up for the day. Unsuccessful attempts at the wheel are quickly put away, and we end up playing with the most adorable goat kids ever born.
Back at the fort, we indulge in some happy badminton after many years, and I thoroughly enjoy it all. Soon, the evening’s lok geet karyakram begins – 3 men, a harmonium and a dholak regale with local folk songs and some hindi film music from many years back. They end with an extremely insightful song on how Godess Parvati urges Lord Shiva to move with the new fashion. And what defines the change then – wearing baggy pants, buying a maruti car, drinking campa cola, and becoming the new Devanand.
It’s striking. Being in a business which advocates an entry into the Indian market to tap the gold mine so often, and attempting to articulate how customer segments are different, and how rural India is another ball game, I feel like this 1 min song did it so much better.
The other memory that will stay with me forever, is the concept of the ‘Jugaad’. The most common means of transportation in these parts is the Jugaad, and it is literally just that – a vehicle put together from abandoned parts of other vehicles. It is a little like a tractor in the front, with a carriage to seat humans on the back that is pulled. Of course, most times you can hardly see the vehicle, beneath the layers of human beings for whom it is an indispensable lifeline. It is innovative, necessity born, and striking proof of the average Indian’s penchant for the sub-optimal. Jugaad se sab chal jaata hai.
We are back in Delhi, after a relatively quicker drive back, and sign off with Chinese lunch at 3 pm, Sunday afternoon, at a posh restaurant. Guess they don’t make ‘em campa colas no more, in these parts.
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