Family Confessions

There are certain aspects of a person's life ,which forever remain buried under the veneer of daily chores. I have never expressed a lot of my emotions in public as it gets tedious on the listener, who might himself feel embarrassed by the display.

Last year was the hardest year of my life so far. The reason for it being tough were manifold , if a person really believes that bad luck can be a consistent phenomenon than it really wrenched its maximum out of me in 2006. I lost my father in December 06 , that in itself was grief that I have not fully reconciled to even now.

What hurt me most was that a proper healthy man got suddenly paralysed with an unexplainable illness , he had to immediately be shifted to Delhi for Medical treatment. The treatment in itself took a toll on his body and perhaps weakened by it he passed away in December last year. It is not perhaps a one in a million case but what about the apathy that the fellow blood relatives can show on an emotional and sensitive man ?

I would not like to go into details but some of my fathers closest kith and kin showed 'exemplary arrogance' when all he required was their emotional support.People forgot how my father risked his own health so that one of his nephews could be married off in great style when his father was languishing in a hospital ICU. I only expect people who are intellectually and emotionally bankrupt to indulge in this kind of apathy when their own Kin lies on his deathbed.

A few exceptions notwithstanding ---and they being very few indeed, both my parents faced this calamity on their own. My brother and I had to go through intense emotional distress seeing our father in physical and mental pain. Why did this happen to a selfless man who cared much for his relatives and even for people who looked up to him as an elder guide ?

The answer is not shrouded in some metaphysical explanation , it is brutually and obscenely obvious to the casual observer. 'Convenience' , yes! that most benign of all words is behind this emotional bankruptcy. Most of our relatives were firmly ensconed in their convenient lifestyles and would always want to stay away from the cauldron of trouble that was brewing in our home. Nobody has the time to be the soothing balm on my family's tormented heart. I do not grudge these people , they do not want to get themselves embroiled in such 'Mundane' matters. They are people for whom an honest day's work is an anomaly. They are people who begrudge anybody's growth . So the point emerges, run away in distress but be present in joy.

I on my part have become immune to the sorrows of certain people today. I can't be an emotionless mannequin for I have my father's noble blood in my veins. However I also know that hatred and vengeance are a human trait and much as I can't go into the medieval times and obliterate my foes. I can still show cold blooded indifference to the plight of some of my relatives.

I ask myself a pertinent question, has something in me died with my father? Yes! for I am no longer the same carefree youth. I now belive in fighting for one's rights and fight I will with anybody who gets in my family's rights. I will not tolerate any nonsensical interference in my family matters and would happily go into a war for my parents rights.

This post is not a guide in revenge and hatred. It is a guide to the putrescent--decadent mask that our relationships have come up to.

Star Kids and Nepotism

If one brouses through film channels , all you get to see are the promos of new 'big releases like Saawariya and Om Shanti Om showing . Even channels like NDTV are not immune to this malaise by showing an increasingly emaciated SRK and an obnoxious Farah Khan extolling the virtues of their Magnum Opus. I do not have a problem with movies and national news existing side by side but there has to be a line drawn somewhere.

One aspect which shouts glaringly is,why we in India are subject to intense media hype about the next big film debut. Are we as a country and society so decrepit,so devoid of talent that we have to face the ignominy of one 'Great ' star kid launch or the other. When you listen to the interviews of one Mr. Bhansali about his great desire to work with newcomers , why are the newcomers----offsprings of filmstars?

I have nothing against children of filmstars trying to become stars , however this meansthat the 'Acting Gene' is automatically passed on by the parents to their kids.
It means that rest of the people struggling in the industry belong to a lesser God !
It means that Indians should not really crib about 'nepotism' for it exists in its most sycophantic and decadent way in its greatest entertainment medium.

Who am I to crib about this?when our 'great' filmmakers know what they are doing . Why should I crib when the great Mr. Bhansali knows what is right for the classes and the masses.Well! you can't expect more from a man who makes a 'Farcical Melodrama ' like Black and gets labelled as the next 'David Lean ' of Indian Cinema.

A Man who made a caricature of Amitabh and made him act over dramatically. Anyway I don't think that Mr. Bhansali is a bad filmmaker but he is certainly a melodramatic and overrated one.Coming back to Star Kids , I have not seen sons or daughters of great actors in the west becoming sensations overnight. A Michael Douglas or a Nicholas cage are exceptions but nobody would doubt their credentials as actors of merit.

Now whom do we have in India , I would not like to take names but most of the breed is mediocre while some are downright appalling.An Abhishek Bacchan is lionised for his performance in 'Guru' while a KK menon or Pankaj Kapur just get a passing mention.(In Black Friday and Dharm respectively).Why so these rich kids have to make a foray into films to prove their worth, I believe the answer itself lies in riches,these people are used to a certain standard of living and after 'Dad' retires or reaches the twilight of his career , this "precociusly" talented breed knows that they must find a similarly high paying job to maintain themselves.

Is this breed really as talented as their illustrious parents? if you look at our film industry than it means any actor's child is a born genius in the league of his own. If this adage is true than take its parrallel in this country's other opium 'Cricket'. 'Sunny Gavaskar's ' son should have been as talented as his father, this also means that Sachin's son would also be a great batsman simply due to his fathers genes.

'Sadly' in life such an occurence is rare and rather fanciful.I have no grudge against people earning money due to their lineage but life is cruel and the spirit of competition should be encouraged and fostered. Our public is as much to blame for making mediocrity shine in India , for the masses encumbered and crushed by life's hardships find solace in three hours of banality propagated by somebody born with a proverbial silver spoon. Clearly irony can't have a more sordid face.

I as a middle class Indian have no rights to speak against banality , however surely something in our collective conscience should point out towards reality and not myth.

Poetic confessions

Was thinking about this post for some time now, wanted to post some of the poems I have composed over a period of time. The range shifts from the Banal to the thoughtful , I have not been able to arrange the stanzas and paragraphs in this blog. To check all my poems you can access the website www.poemhunter.com.


Lore of Sufism

The almighty that sprinkles the earth with a thousand flowers benignMay the calm of a thousand mountains don the visage of your restless soul? The beauty of a river singing and meandering in search of that peaceWhich follows when the arms of the ocean engulf it, exemplifying existence The Ocean roars and says all permanence too has an ending.These chants of ages gone, this lore which brings a joyful melancholy.Instill nostalgia for this era passed long byWho were these seers, were they crusaders of the divinity in manThey for sure were romantics for romantics nurture belief like no otherThe tradition of worship found a new beliefIt was not heresy but the faith of a few TitansFighting the time, fighting tyrants, fighting savageryRealm saw a new dawn on a politic stained by crimsonMan became God, God became Man.Yes! The Mystic sang all this the song of love, of devotionOf a beloved waiting, of an anguish in the hearts of mortalsThe flowing sensuality of the praises of the almighty Matched the longing of a forlorn lover.The yearning for salvation was but what salvation itselfThe mystique of the mystic is a legend less understood, for Less understood are the voices of the chosen few yet Love is surely divine and divinity equals love Nature is the form of God and the love for nature is ElysianThis was an era when Humanity reveled, sanity was revered and solitude elevatedThis is what the Sufi sang for this is what the lore says.


A Smile Unknown

I saw that smile glowing under the rays of a nascent sun.As I saw a veil of darkness engulf the shadows of duskI stand on the perch of my house seeing the window afarThe dark eyes with shining brightness light the gloomy interiors of my heartThe lady looks at me with a curious expression, I furtively hide behind the window watching still. She flashes her dark tresses in a caress befitting the glowing radiance of the pallid sun.I see life through this woman of my dreams. She flirts with sanity, evokes a desire unknown. Yet she is life, she is joy, the heart glows in the flowing timbre of her laughter.Is She a dream? Yes! She is for my heart yearns for love yet it is elusive a dream.


A Marauder Came

A Marauder came, crumbling the temples of belief, plundering the souls of a few people.He came and he conquered the peaceful folk of a primeval land.He called them Pagans, Barbarians, miserable folk believers in an obscure religion.He called his faith a glorious revolution set upon this land to cure its miseries.He plundered, he looted, he swindled the wealth, the dignity of the land.He Imposed taxes on non believers believing in his God’s benevolence.Who was this plunderer from the sands proclaiming himself as the savior of mankind.What was mankind according to him. What was faith according to him. How did he perceive the vagaries of life.He did not possess the imagination for he was a believer in lust and greed.What did his faith tell him to loot, plunder spread all over on a tide of blood.What faith is this which chains humans, throttles and slashes toddlers in their crib.A faith which teaches impatience, hatred and bloodlust. A faith which suppresses beauty, kills expression, strangles creativity.It calls others non believers, is it the faith or the man who does it.A faith which is no faith, yet is present. A belief which gave mankind the message of Karma.A revolution which teaches God to be man and Man to be God. A circle which is round yet not round. A knowledge that no one is pure yet everybody is impure. A belief spurring the progress of mind more than the decadent body.Why did the marauder blame this faith for the misery. Perhaps he was the son of ignorance. His roots were ignorance, it was misery, it again took the marauder back to his roots.Roots which always wallowed in savagery, roots of philistine thinking and closed eyes.Roots which still can’t look a woman in the eye.

Mist

Happy seems the mist in the months of cold.My eyes see its blanket reminding me things of yoreSomewhere down the valley the mist calls Asks a question where are you these daysI tell the mist I am in a jungle burdened with concreteFar lies the Jungle from these tranquil environs The jungle has beasts all over roaring in unison at the crack of dawn.The Mist says you like the jungle, my reply gets drowned among falling raindropsThe voice of Mist rises and says- my question is unanswered. I reply, bother not you bride of winter. The answer is not required. The Mist is silent; deepening its smoky wings over the pines it rushes and gives a cold embrace.As I shiver I delve on the beauty of the mist and marvel its amour.Tickling the trees and flirting with the mountains it covers a whole town.The town goes to sleep, I remain with the mist with its cold embraces and boundless questionsQuestions I have no answers to questions of centuries and questions, which only the old pines could answer.Why do the mountains throw my advances back, and why do men find me depressingI reply mountains are like concrete jungles, while men are its inhabitants.



My Guardian Angel

All along the time I grew, I watched a tree cast a shadow on me.Yes! It was my guardian through times thick and thin. Times whenAll alone trying to understand the roots and algebra, I wondered whether thisIs the ultimate exploration of mind? I saw nature and it’s bounties smiling at my childish Query.I smelled the raindrops falling from my tree, quenching my pristine thirst.Making my courtyard smell like a thousand pure dreams. I wondered whyMy friend is so quiet, aloof from the vagaries of life. Why the quiet demeanourThe exciting solitude. My callow spirit found no answer. I saw the onset of spring, the tree glowing in a fresh coating of eloquent verdure.Winged herons, plumed robins basking in the lush beauty of countryside.My mind again wondered afar, thinking about beauty and nature.I found Wordsworth more profound than Pythagoras, was I wrong? The teacher laughed at the crazed query of a freckled teenager The father frowned at his impetuous reasoning. Perhaps they were rightMy tree smiled as if signifying an ocean of calm, urging me to be observantI saw the birds chirping on it feeding their young chatting with their kin.I saw the leaves falling from my friend’s branches, he said yes; I lose something everydaystill I do not complain, for life is an exploration at each curve.My flowers will again fall, but will bloom again you too my friend do not despairFor you too would bloom in your heart and in your soul.

In the company of women

Just finished reading 'In the company of women' by Khushwant Singh. Although the book came out in 1999 , I had failed to read it then and bought a copy when I found one. The reason I wanted to read the book was not to find out about Singh's inclinations to write about sexuality in his late eighties but to check how good the material and storyline really were.

I was not suitably impressed by the book , partly due to its tendency to sound both banal and mythical at the same time. Mohan Kumar the protagnist is shown as an extremely brilliant individual who wins a scholarship and goes abroad to study in princeton. He is also shown as being handsome , more than six feet tall and a compulsive womaniser. He beds a lot of American girls and becomes a known stud because he incidentally also has the---hold your horses- the biggest Organ seen by women who he has bedded.

The book keeps on meandering through the life of Mohan Kumar who comes to India , becomes a successful businessman and also bears an unhappy marriage. While all this is OK , Singh's narrative style is least engrossing and focuses more on eroticising the book . "Erotica" has a certain value in writing and when written with an unselfconscious style can be engrossing, a case in point is 'John Updike'. Though the only book of real substance written by Singh is 'Train to Pakistan' , it is imperative to note that the author is more known as an accurate and worthwhile historian than a fiction writer.

"A history of Sikhs" is a Vivid description of Sikh history down the years and Khushwant is also known to have popularised Guru Gobind Singh's image as a great poet. Very few have read the tenth Guru's 'Bichitar Natak' . Read it and you will realise the intellect and vision of Sikhism's great hero. Khushwant Singh, has contributed in his way as a virtual encyclopedia on Sikh History and literature , and this is where he should have drawn a line. While I have no problems with his brand of writing , it somehow diminshes his achievements wherein the general public view him as nothing but a 'randy Sikh' who is somewhat of a buffoon.

That is the precise reason for my not liking 'In the company of Women ' for while there is nothing wrong in writing about sex , it should not be the be all and end all of any literary work. Character development , however was never a strongpoint of Khuswant Singh's where excluding his first work he fell into a realm of mediocrity.

Engagement Mithais

I have never clearly understood the reasons for distributing sweets , whenever a person gets tied in Conjugal bliss or the ceremony preceding that. I got engaged this month itself and my office staff was bending over themselves to congratulate me. Fine enough , I thought --though what exactly made them so enthusiastic was still to come. So! exclaimed my Boss where is the Mithai ----. Implying and later accusing how I had conveniently forgotten this sacrosanct regimen of distributing sweets. Finally bowing to peer presssure , I bowed down and distributed sweets.

This curious phenomenon of sweets is not really explained by the rich tradition of Indian mythology and story telling combined. Now-- agreed the person undergoing the ceremony is expected to be reasonably happy. Though whether this translates to making everybody happy around you is reasonably suspicious, anyway I went ahead and did the usual routine of making people happy by distributing Mithai-- that great Indian conduit transferring happiness to mankind.

Mobile Mania

A layman can always wonder at the habits of his co-dwellers in this place we call earth. Well !people have this innate habit of chatting. Even before the mobile was invented we have seen people gossiping , though admittedly in a restricted way. There are a lot of points, I have noticed while observing people on their mobiles however, sample the most humourous :

The top ranking goes to girls who are foerever pressing the instrument to their ear talking in whispers which you can only hear if you have some superhuman power of hearing . If you travel in the Delhi Metro , than you can come across this species of teenage , college going and young lasses in their twenties speaking on the mobile as if plotting the downfall of the Pentagon. How do their 'boyfriends' decipher the mumbo jumbo is beyond my comprehension. Then again , maybe comprehension is not a necessity when the rustle of whispers is what matters.

Mahabharata

was thinking about Mahabharata as I went through some pieces of of the great epic on the net. One thing is the 'libido' of women shown in the epic. Sample this:

When Hidimba saw Bhima in the forest , she was enchanted by his leonine shoulders , broad chest and mighty arms. Thus taking the form of a beautiful female she approached Bhima and said.

"O great and mighty man! , I have been struck by Kamadeva's arrow when I saw you , although my brother the Mighty Hidimb has sent me to kill you and your brothers , killing you would give me temporary pleasure; marrying you would ensure that pleasure would be mine for time eternal."

Hmmm--- one thing is for sure the females in the epic were not shy of demanding sexual satisfaction , even if by the use of grandiloquent dialogue as written by Jai Arjun Singh in his popular Blog Jabberwock. One thing is for sure , the epic is far ahead of its times and ironically should show are feminists that ancient vedic culture was not only tolerant of female sexuality but seemed to encourage it.

Another Sample: Ulupi the queen of the Nagas , took Arjuna to the bottom of the Ganges and asked him this:

"O great warrior , you of the deep chest and resonating voice , you of the dark complexion and sensual eyes . Accept me as your wife and spend the next three days with me in my palace underwater".

After this another sexually charged dialogue , Arjuna accepts Ulupi and according to the epic "knows her as a husband " for three days.

Brilliant, isn't it , when women were so free to choose their husbands and were also well versed in the art of mesmerising poetry the "O warrior" , "O Bheema," being used everywhere.

The Mahabharata is not only brilliant as an epic but is also good for an exercise in high camp on lighter days.