As the end of the year approaches, I find my calendar packed to the hilt. Besides, with the kids home, I have very little time to myself. Hence the break from blogging. For all those (seven) people who hang onto my every word and wait with bated breath for the next post (yeah right!) I say, don't be disappointed. I hope to be back to it as soon as possible. Once the hangover lifts, the holiday weight disappears and guilt from the vacation bingeing abates. Actually, sounds like it might take a while.....
Anyway, I just wanted to wish everyone the very best for 2010. Let's hope the Commonwealth Games in New Delhi don't turn into a national humiliation. And I'm certainly looking forward to an action-packed FIFA World Cup in South Africa. Once every four years I turn into a crazed football fan, seeking out all the yellow I can get my hands on. Go, go, goal Brazil (yes, I am very Bengali in my soccer loyalties)!
Cheers y'all. Kick off the New Year in style.
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Thursday, December 17, 2009
Of history and professors keeping it immortal
I studied history in college and loved it thoroughly. Many felt it was a peculiar, boring choice given I could potentially have selected another course. But I didn't get English in a college to my liking. History was the only other thing I wanted to study, so I enrolled for three years of the stuff at Delhi University's Hansraj College.
Anyway, the purpose of this blog is to share the gems that were passed on to us in those dingy classrooms. I speak not of historical facts and chronologies that you can find anywhere. I am referring here to the unparalleled spin our professors put on it thanks to their eccentricities and idiosyncrasies. You'll understand why I don't mention names here. I remember all these professors very fondly. They injected life into history lessons like few could manage. The students were so busy stifling smirks, giggles and guffaws that the classes whizzed by year after year. Never a dull moment.
Let's begin with the ancient Indian history teacher in our freshman year. He wore clothes flashy enough to give Austin Powers a complex. We'd rarely look at his face because we were mesmerised and dazzled by his favourite canary yellow tie that seemed aglow with mild radioactivity. And the checks on his loud plaid jacket, heaving on a hint of a potbelly, were almost hypnotic. But his most striking feature was the ability to make just about anything sound like total sleaze. "The Vedas are ancient India's biggest contribution to universal knowledge," he might be saying in his deep baritone. But it sounded like the narrative of a B-grade soft-porn film. It mattered not what he said. The lilt, diction, voice and delivery had this baffling effect of making it sound very, very dirty.
For medieval Indian history in our second year, we had the most absent-minded simple soul as a professor. A wonderful and kind man, he was unfortunately blessed with a very exaggerated Indian accent. What I will never forget are the lessons on the Slave Dynasty that once ruled Delhi, much before the Mughals. "Iltutmiss bilt a tomm for himself. But hij sunn Nassruddin Mahmud pre-decijed him and was entommed in that tomm," he told a very confused class one morning. For those not conversant in Indian, let me translate - "Iltutmish built a tomb for himself. But his son Nasiruddin Mahmud pre-deceased him and was entombed in that tomb."
Can you imagine keeping a straight face through a year of this? I frankly don't know how we survived gems like this and "bullbush domm" (bulbuous dome, while discussing Islamic architecture).
For European history the same year, we had a cantankerous old professor who always looked like he was at death's door. On occasion we actually got extremely concerned he'd passed on seated in class when he didn't stir for several minutes together. Anway, when he got going, he was difficult to understand. It sounded like he was speaking through a mouth full of marbles. And the day he discussed Catholicism and the Vatican, we were left mystified. He kept grunting about the Pope and his Pepsi. It took us quite a while to figure out he was speaking of the Pope and his papacy.
But you know what? Had it not been for all this, I'd probably have forgotten entirely about my history course through college. These professors left an indelible impression and made my years at university immortal.
Anyway, the purpose of this blog is to share the gems that were passed on to us in those dingy classrooms. I speak not of historical facts and chronologies that you can find anywhere. I am referring here to the unparalleled spin our professors put on it thanks to their eccentricities and idiosyncrasies. You'll understand why I don't mention names here. I remember all these professors very fondly. They injected life into history lessons like few could manage. The students were so busy stifling smirks, giggles and guffaws that the classes whizzed by year after year. Never a dull moment.
Let's begin with the ancient Indian history teacher in our freshman year. He wore clothes flashy enough to give Austin Powers a complex. We'd rarely look at his face because we were mesmerised and dazzled by his favourite canary yellow tie that seemed aglow with mild radioactivity. And the checks on his loud plaid jacket, heaving on a hint of a potbelly, were almost hypnotic. But his most striking feature was the ability to make just about anything sound like total sleaze. "The Vedas are ancient India's biggest contribution to universal knowledge," he might be saying in his deep baritone. But it sounded like the narrative of a B-grade soft-porn film. It mattered not what he said. The lilt, diction, voice and delivery had this baffling effect of making it sound very, very dirty.
For medieval Indian history in our second year, we had the most absent-minded simple soul as a professor. A wonderful and kind man, he was unfortunately blessed with a very exaggerated Indian accent. What I will never forget are the lessons on the Slave Dynasty that once ruled Delhi, much before the Mughals. "Iltutmiss bilt a tomm for himself. But hij sunn Nassruddin Mahmud pre-decijed him and was entommed in that tomm," he told a very confused class one morning. For those not conversant in Indian, let me translate - "Iltutmish built a tomb for himself. But his son Nasiruddin Mahmud pre-deceased him and was entombed in that tomb."
Can you imagine keeping a straight face through a year of this? I frankly don't know how we survived gems like this and "bullbush domm" (bulbuous dome, while discussing Islamic architecture).
For European history the same year, we had a cantankerous old professor who always looked like he was at death's door. On occasion we actually got extremely concerned he'd passed on seated in class when he didn't stir for several minutes together. Anway, when he got going, he was difficult to understand. It sounded like he was speaking through a mouth full of marbles. And the day he discussed Catholicism and the Vatican, we were left mystified. He kept grunting about the Pope and his Pepsi. It took us quite a while to figure out he was speaking of the Pope and his papacy.
But you know what? Had it not been for all this, I'd probably have forgotten entirely about my history course through college. These professors left an indelible impression and made my years at university immortal.
Sunday, December 13, 2009
At the turn of the millennium I was........
In the spirit of year-end retrospection, which this time coincides with the end of the 21st century's first decade, I thought it would be fun to see how much I'd changed since December 1999. Let's see now:
At the turn of the millennium I was......
1) ....well, 10 years younger (25) and a little bit naive.
2) ....still basking in the newlywed glow and thrilled to discover that, contrary to what one hears, marriage can be extremely liberating. Arvind and I got hitched in 1998.
3) ....on the way to becoming a mum. Full of hope. Oblivious to what a natural childbirth really entails! Baby 1 arrived in August, 2000.
4) ....more patient. Or was it less? I can't quite decide. I do think little things drive me insane much sooner now. But then I realise that I have become immune to a lot of aggravation and provocation being around my children all the time.
5) ....a LOT slimmer. But less fit and flexible than now.
6) ....able to make friends more easily. Now I just don't have the time or patience to endure pointless small talk in the hope of unearthing a friend. Go for quality rather than quantity. Few pass muster, I'm afraid.
7) ....less likely to give people a second chance. Thanks to being a parent, that has changed.
8) ....more likely to be distracted by the superficial. Thankfully, with time, lucky ones like me learn to separate the wheat from the chaff and go for substance rather than flash.
9) ....much more ambitious. I wanted to build a career in the news business. I don't miss my professional life one bit now.
10) ....totally unaware of my painting skills. Didn't make a start until 2003. Was pleasantly surprised, to say the least. Now I hope that can turn into my primary profession some day.
11) ....more easily drawn into arguments. I'd rise to the bait each time. Now I can let things slide when I know an argument would just lead to bickering and not a constructive exchange of ideas.
12) ....less capable of being a heartless bitch when the situation demanded it (some might disagree). No such problems now!
13) ....more likely to wear jewellery.
14) ....less likely to wear make-up. Camouflage is now necessary sometimes!
15) ....just as likely to pick out mistakes in print, even text on the TV screen. Can't switch the inner editor off - ever!
16) ....able to consume mind-boggling quantities of food and alcohol! Those days are, mercifully, behind me.
17) ....as likely to switch on the telly and hunt for the funnies. I badly need a good laugh to unwind at the end of each day.
18) ....just as impatient with Hindi films. While things have begun to change, the majority of movies coming out of Bollywood still hold no appeal whatsoever for me.
19) ....more likely to offer justification for my behaviour in the hope of validation. Now, I frankly don't give a fig what others think.
20) ....less in love than I am today! (I know, I know. High on barf value. A sappy note to end on, but it's the truth)
So tell me about yourself. How have you evolved in the last decade?
At the turn of the millennium I was......
1) ....well, 10 years younger (25) and a little bit naive.
2) ....still basking in the newlywed glow and thrilled to discover that, contrary to what one hears, marriage can be extremely liberating. Arvind and I got hitched in 1998.
3) ....on the way to becoming a mum. Full of hope. Oblivious to what a natural childbirth really entails! Baby 1 arrived in August, 2000.
4) ....more patient. Or was it less? I can't quite decide. I do think little things drive me insane much sooner now. But then I realise that I have become immune to a lot of aggravation and provocation being around my children all the time.
5) ....a LOT slimmer. But less fit and flexible than now.
6) ....able to make friends more easily. Now I just don't have the time or patience to endure pointless small talk in the hope of unearthing a friend. Go for quality rather than quantity. Few pass muster, I'm afraid.
7) ....less likely to give people a second chance. Thanks to being a parent, that has changed.
8) ....more likely to be distracted by the superficial. Thankfully, with time, lucky ones like me learn to separate the wheat from the chaff and go for substance rather than flash.
9) ....much more ambitious. I wanted to build a career in the news business. I don't miss my professional life one bit now.
10) ....totally unaware of my painting skills. Didn't make a start until 2003. Was pleasantly surprised, to say the least. Now I hope that can turn into my primary profession some day.
11) ....more easily drawn into arguments. I'd rise to the bait each time. Now I can let things slide when I know an argument would just lead to bickering and not a constructive exchange of ideas.
12) ....less capable of being a heartless bitch when the situation demanded it (some might disagree). No such problems now!
13) ....more likely to wear jewellery.
14) ....less likely to wear make-up. Camouflage is now necessary sometimes!
15) ....just as likely to pick out mistakes in print, even text on the TV screen. Can't switch the inner editor off - ever!
16) ....able to consume mind-boggling quantities of food and alcohol! Those days are, mercifully, behind me.
17) ....as likely to switch on the telly and hunt for the funnies. I badly need a good laugh to unwind at the end of each day.
18) ....just as impatient with Hindi films. While things have begun to change, the majority of movies coming out of Bollywood still hold no appeal whatsoever for me.
19) ....more likely to offer justification for my behaviour in the hope of validation. Now, I frankly don't give a fig what others think.
20) ....less in love than I am today! (I know, I know. High on barf value. A sappy note to end on, but it's the truth)
So tell me about yourself. How have you evolved in the last decade?
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
It's about temperament as much as temperature
As attempts stumbled along in Copenhagen to reach international concord on arresting climate change, it struck me that what's happening around us isn't just about rising temperatures and all the related disasters. It's also about human temperament. It's about us as a people, as a species.
I'm not talking about human survival. That is certainly at stake if the worst case scenarios climate researchers have projected do come true (God forbid!). Let those more in the know debate and discuss the environmental aspect of things. What I'm speaking of is the change in human temperament that has been another unfortunate outcome of global warming.
History shows that people from areas with harsh climates who had hard lives battling the elements were the ones who left their shores to invade the balmier parts of the world. Think about it. Where did the early invaders and conquerers come from? The Vikings, the Huns and many more of their ilk all hailed from regions known for their cruelly cold winters and brief, fleeting summers. When growing or gathering food and staying comfortable were daily battles, the temptation of securing supplies from more fertile lands and perhaps living in more clement weather proved overpowering.
The people of the tropics, on the other hand, were happy to stay put and enjoy the bounty of their native lands. They were placid as a people, easy-going. With the abundance of fruit, crops, rain and fresh air around them, they never felt the need to seek greener pastures. I can't really think of a tribe or nation of conquerers and imperialists that emerged from the balmy tropical regions. Even if there were warrior tribes in the tropics, they mostly fought for control of local resources.
But that was then. Now pollutants have become the great levellers. The deterioration in quality of life and resources across the world is proving directly proportionate to the spike in aggression and unrest. The fight for resources is no longer the domain of nations. It has come down to individual levels in extreme cases. You can see it in urban slums across the developing world (many of them in the tropics) where water riots routinely break out.
You don't even need to study the entire world. India is the perfect microcosmic example. Indians living in areas with harsher climate and extreme temperatures tend to have mercurial temperaments to match. There is an underlying tinge of aggression, a tendency to restiveness. Indians from areas where the weather is milder have traditionally been more even-tempered. I know, you feel I'm oversimplifying and generalising here. But think about it. Be honest. Isn't that the case?
Unfortunately, things are changing now. And nowhere is it more apparent than in our overcrowded cities. A steady poisoning of the air, water and soil has corresponded with a rise in impatience, belligerence and suspicion. Climate change and pollution are certainly not solely responsible for this. But they are significant factors. It is extremely challenging to stay patient and placid when caught in a snarl of toxin-belching traffic, lining up in the heat for a few buckets of water, breathing in fumes from diesel generators every time the electric supply fails. The hotter it gets, the worse things become.
The cities of India's north are used to punishingly hot summers. But not the rest of the country. Mumbai has seen a steady rise in its day temperatures and a decline in annual rainfall over the past few years. Homes in Bangalore (I should say Bengaluru), the Garden City, now don't just have ceiling fans but air conditioners too. That certainly wasn't the case a decade ago. Chennai's water woes are famous. These conditions are fairly new to them, so people are struggling to cope with the changes. In all these cities and surrounding regions, tempers have been creeping up just like the temperatures. People there are no longer the easy-going folk they used to be.
That's why I have my fingers crossed for Copenhagen. I hope our leaders finally agree to work together for a cleaner, greener world where our children can breathe a little easier and live in harmony. Because I certainly don't like what climate change is turning us humans into.
I'm not talking about human survival. That is certainly at stake if the worst case scenarios climate researchers have projected do come true (God forbid!). Let those more in the know debate and discuss the environmental aspect of things. What I'm speaking of is the change in human temperament that has been another unfortunate outcome of global warming.
History shows that people from areas with harsh climates who had hard lives battling the elements were the ones who left their shores to invade the balmier parts of the world. Think about it. Where did the early invaders and conquerers come from? The Vikings, the Huns and many more of their ilk all hailed from regions known for their cruelly cold winters and brief, fleeting summers. When growing or gathering food and staying comfortable were daily battles, the temptation of securing supplies from more fertile lands and perhaps living in more clement weather proved overpowering.
The people of the tropics, on the other hand, were happy to stay put and enjoy the bounty of their native lands. They were placid as a people, easy-going. With the abundance of fruit, crops, rain and fresh air around them, they never felt the need to seek greener pastures. I can't really think of a tribe or nation of conquerers and imperialists that emerged from the balmy tropical regions. Even if there were warrior tribes in the tropics, they mostly fought for control of local resources.
But that was then. Now pollutants have become the great levellers. The deterioration in quality of life and resources across the world is proving directly proportionate to the spike in aggression and unrest. The fight for resources is no longer the domain of nations. It has come down to individual levels in extreme cases. You can see it in urban slums across the developing world (many of them in the tropics) where water riots routinely break out.
You don't even need to study the entire world. India is the perfect microcosmic example. Indians living in areas with harsher climate and extreme temperatures tend to have mercurial temperaments to match. There is an underlying tinge of aggression, a tendency to restiveness. Indians from areas where the weather is milder have traditionally been more even-tempered. I know, you feel I'm oversimplifying and generalising here. But think about it. Be honest. Isn't that the case?
Unfortunately, things are changing now. And nowhere is it more apparent than in our overcrowded cities. A steady poisoning of the air, water and soil has corresponded with a rise in impatience, belligerence and suspicion. Climate change and pollution are certainly not solely responsible for this. But they are significant factors. It is extremely challenging to stay patient and placid when caught in a snarl of toxin-belching traffic, lining up in the heat for a few buckets of water, breathing in fumes from diesel generators every time the electric supply fails. The hotter it gets, the worse things become.
The cities of India's north are used to punishingly hot summers. But not the rest of the country. Mumbai has seen a steady rise in its day temperatures and a decline in annual rainfall over the past few years. Homes in Bangalore (I should say Bengaluru), the Garden City, now don't just have ceiling fans but air conditioners too. That certainly wasn't the case a decade ago. Chennai's water woes are famous. These conditions are fairly new to them, so people are struggling to cope with the changes. In all these cities and surrounding regions, tempers have been creeping up just like the temperatures. People there are no longer the easy-going folk they used to be.
That's why I have my fingers crossed for Copenhagen. I hope our leaders finally agree to work together for a cleaner, greener world where our children can breathe a little easier and live in harmony. Because I certainly don't like what climate change is turning us humans into.
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
Mumbai, be grateful for the Dharavi wart
It's the biggest wart on the face of an already pockmarked and scarred Mumbai. Most residents of this gigantic city that's home to about 19 million people feel embarrassed whenever the name Dharavi comes up. A sprawling, stinking mass of tin, tarpaulin, cardboard, brick, slush and sewage that throbs in the very the heart of Mumbai, Dharavi was till a few months ago considered Asia's largest slum. In September the UNDP (United Nations Development Programme) said the Pakistani city of Karachi has now wrested that dubious distinction with the spread of its Orangi township.
Anyway, the size of Dharavi (175 hectares, housing a million people) isn't the point of this blog. Last night I was surfing channels and came across a programme called Slum City on National Geographic. I stopped to watch, and was mesmerised. I knew so little of what went on within that fragile, choking city within a city!
I knew that Dharavi was the main centre for the production of leather goods in Mumbai. Many of our American friends and acquaintances have made endless trips there to shop for bags, jackets, overcoats and belts - some even custom made. I also knew that there were several small-scale garments manufacturing units there. I knew that several designers make use of embroiderers and crochet artisans from Dharavi.
But what I learnt from Slum City came as a very pleasant surprise. Dharavi is apparently the epicentre of garbage segregation and recycling in India's financial capital. Had it not been for the queen of the slums, Mumbai would be sitting on a heap of refuse of Himalayan proportions. Mounds and mounds of inorganic waste are painstakingly sorted, segregated and recycled within the slum every single day. Plastic, tin, paper, rubber, metal - anything and everything is reincarnated in Dharavi. I knew recycling was big in Dharavi, but I had no idea of the scale.
Instead of being ashamed of its presence, Mumbai should be thankful to Dharavi and its enterprising people. The city's collective endeavour should be to find out how to assist these recycling businesses and make them cleaner, more efficient.
We know that the government's efforts to redevelop Dharavi are failing miserably. Many residents have been promised small homes with electicity and sanitation, but in alternate locations. The residents, while all for better living conditions, just don't want to relocate. When it comes to location, Dharavi is better placed than most upscale neighbourhoods. It is close to the airports, to the three main inner-city train lines, and to both the expressways that lead into and out of Mumbai. Naturally, its people don't wish to live anywhere else.
The state should perhaps start with giving the recycling businesses in Dharavi a helping hand. Maybe efforts to expand the recycling facilites will entice the people involved to move to bigger, better and cleaner spaces. Or at least to clean up their current locations. Just remember Mumbai, we're deeply indebted to these people. We owe it to them to try and make their lives better.
Anyway, the size of Dharavi (175 hectares, housing a million people) isn't the point of this blog. Last night I was surfing channels and came across a programme called Slum City on National Geographic. I stopped to watch, and was mesmerised. I knew so little of what went on within that fragile, choking city within a city!
I knew that Dharavi was the main centre for the production of leather goods in Mumbai. Many of our American friends and acquaintances have made endless trips there to shop for bags, jackets, overcoats and belts - some even custom made. I also knew that there were several small-scale garments manufacturing units there. I knew that several designers make use of embroiderers and crochet artisans from Dharavi.
But what I learnt from Slum City came as a very pleasant surprise. Dharavi is apparently the epicentre of garbage segregation and recycling in India's financial capital. Had it not been for the queen of the slums, Mumbai would be sitting on a heap of refuse of Himalayan proportions. Mounds and mounds of inorganic waste are painstakingly sorted, segregated and recycled within the slum every single day. Plastic, tin, paper, rubber, metal - anything and everything is reincarnated in Dharavi. I knew recycling was big in Dharavi, but I had no idea of the scale.
Instead of being ashamed of its presence, Mumbai should be thankful to Dharavi and its enterprising people. The city's collective endeavour should be to find out how to assist these recycling businesses and make them cleaner, more efficient.
We know that the government's efforts to redevelop Dharavi are failing miserably. Many residents have been promised small homes with electicity and sanitation, but in alternate locations. The residents, while all for better living conditions, just don't want to relocate. When it comes to location, Dharavi is better placed than most upscale neighbourhoods. It is close to the airports, to the three main inner-city train lines, and to both the expressways that lead into and out of Mumbai. Naturally, its people don't wish to live anywhere else.
The state should perhaps start with giving the recycling businesses in Dharavi a helping hand. Maybe efforts to expand the recycling facilites will entice the people involved to move to bigger, better and cleaner spaces. Or at least to clean up their current locations. Just remember Mumbai, we're deeply indebted to these people. We owe it to them to try and make their lives better.
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