BOMBAY - MY VALENTINE

It’s Valentine Day today.  An E-mail has just popped in my Inbox. I get goose-pimples as I read the title of attachment with the mail. It reads, ‘Bombay 100 years ago’. As I open the attachment, I fall in love all over again.

I have found my Valentine- my Bombay.

Memories of 69 years that I have spent here since birth are well preserved though the tone has turned sepia. But pictures are clear. World Luxury Council (India) has come up with a series of canvasses that display icons of Bombay landmarks as they were 100 years back. A friend thought it appropriate to forward these to me. It is a priceless ‘forward’ that will rest on ‘desktop’ till I last. As I browse through the attachment the images become sharper. I am reliving my childhood as view these pictures. I cannot help admire what appears on the screen. Frame after frame tickle my sense of pride and glory about Bombay. Having grown with the city I am able to identify and relate to most of these landmarks dotting the Beautiful Bombay.

Resplendent in architectural splendor, blending English and French styles with native and Islamic architecture the city symbolizes a vision that transcends borders across the world. Little wonder it is also a demographers’ delight. It is a city with a Lion’s heart that accommodates everyone seeking a toe-hold. All are welcome in this city, irrespective of their color, caste, creed community or place of origin. In its womb are nestled diverse shades of humanity. This is the city that defines ‘cosmopolitanism’ in true sense. Its cultural diversity sets standards a few cities in the world can match.

Bombay breathes ‘opportunities’. Take it and it takes you where you wish to reach, no matter how high.  From micro-mini to multinational, all kinds of enterprise thrive in Bombay. Yet, it is not a city where only money matters. It is a city that lives life in all its facets. Here, art keeps company with architecture, commerce is complimented by charity, intellect competes with erudition and culture defines class.

Bombay of the yore had good fortune to be nursed and nurtured by men (and women) with broad minds and larger than life persona. Always eager to give more to the city than what they got from it, these magnificent women and men gave Bombay its character.

Romancing Bombay has been an old habit of incorrigible flirt in me.  As if sharing my feeling, even the Arabian Sea keeps caressing the shores of the city.

Love you Bombay (now Mumbai) at all times.  

HOMEQUEST Chapter 1

DEN OF A DRUG PEDDLER

It was Sunday morning. We received a call from one of the agents in Goregaon. He talked about a fully furnished, well appointed apartment that would meet our needs and was well within budget.

Wasting no time, we headed towards agent’s office. Our excitement kicked up further on knowing the offered price. It did sound bit low for comfort but before we could nurse any doubts the agent started singing paeans of the property. Now, I am not one of those ‘lucky’ guys who get rewarded without any efforts. But, today I felt different. Avarice had set in my mind. Soon, we were on way to our utopian dream. Short drive to the apartment was spent listening agent’s discourse on merits of the apartment. Going by his recitations, it was a ‘jackpot’ waiting only to be picked up.

The building appeared new and had impressive façade. A well manicured garden with meandering walkway greeted us as we eased our car into a vacant parking slot. Backside had fairly large children’s play area with rides. Entrance lobby was even more impressive with double height, a crystal chandelier hanging from the roof and a large mural of the side walls. Our ‘jackpot’ was on 1^st floor and we did not have to wait for the elevator. Name plate outside the flat bore the name of a lady. Ringing of bell was greeted with a sweet sounding response. Soon, we came face to face with a pretty young lady in early thirties. She greeted us with a disarming smile, leading us to a spacious sitting room. By the time we sank into plush leather sofa, a servant appeared with soft drinks. Sipping coke, we peered around trying to take the tastefully done interiors in.

Meanwhile, the pretty woman was closeted with the agent. They seemed to be pretty ‘close’ and even occupied seats almost touching each other. Their unabashed flirting disturbed our concentration and soon we could not take it any longer. Quickly we finished the drink and demanded to be shown around the flat. The agent took it upon himself to lead us, pointing out every notable detail. Inspection over, we felt elated. It was a tempting proposition considering the price.

Back in our seats, we talked about details. I could not help inquire reasons for selling the flat. My quarry was anticipated and prompt came the reply that the lady needed funds. Next question was pre-empted by offering explanation that there was a certain amount of urgency and hence the property was being under-quoted. An expression of sadness punctuated this statement by the lady. As if on cue, the agent nodded his head in agreement. The pretty woman went on to narrate a story how she had to raise lot of money to fight legal battle. Continuing she said, her husband was falsely implicated in a case and she had to get him out on bail. Sensing the feeling of shock on our faces, she lamented how in this country innocents fall prey and poor wives like her had to bear the brunt.

Overcoming first tremors, we asked as to what kind of case it was. Instantly she responded, “Oh! It’s no big deal. The narcotics department has falsely alleged that my husband is involved in selling drugs. I can swear by God that he is ‘clean’ and I will certainly get him out of jail”. A pre-scripted drama was on and at this point the agent stepped in. He sprang to his feet and said, “Sir! Let me explain. I am not one of those agents who would close a deal by deceiving a client. I will reveal everything” I thanked him for his ethics and waited for his next move. He then called for previous day’s Times of India.

Those days, last page of TOI carried public announcement ads, mostly lawyers’ notices about proposed property deals, government tenders etc. Presently, the lady shoved a newspaper in my hand. It had, at the bottom of last page, a ‘Notice’ by a firm of solicitors. It informed public of High Court judgment by which it had released a particular apartment that was ‘attached’ by the police. Keeping my cool, I went on to read the notice carefully. It was clear that the flat belonged to the ‘pretty lady’ who happened to be wife of the alleged drug peddler, currently in custody. It further added that the said flat was wrongfully ‘attached’ and ordered the narcotics bureau to release it. In fact, the lady had taken possession of the flat two days before and had immediately put it on the block.

A perfect frame of deception, she shed more tears and pleaded with my wife to take a quick decision because this flat was her only source for money.  My wife was baffled and wondered why we had not walked out by then. Meanwhile, the agent brandished flat purchase documents to prove that she was the sole owner. He even showed society bills in her name. He assured us that this was once in a lifetime opportunity that we can ill afford to miss.

My mind went into a spin, unable to choose between common sense and greed. But, I was not ready to give up, as yet. I stayed put listening to a well orchestrated drama. I argued that as a housewife the lady had no income. It implied that the purchase was actually done by husband. It also meant that tomorrow he could come out of the jail and stake a claim to the flat. It would make us vulnerable to bullying by him.

Amidst fresh round of sobs, the lady offered that we speak to her husband on phone. Seeing our look of surprise the agent butted in saying that she talks to her husband every Sunday. He can avail of a facility of phone in one of the jail officer’s cabin. 

Finally, to remove all our misgivings, lady made us a fresh offer. She suggested, we accompany her to Nashik Jail to meet the husband in person. We could then seek his written consent on a stamp paper.

This was the last straw. My wife jumped, pulled my arm, screaming, “We are not going anywhere and I don’t want this flat.” 

We were out within seconds. Thereafter, we never ventured in that direction. 

CHARISMA OF CHROMOSOMES & 'WEAKER SEX'

Two months back my younger brother died of cardiac arrest at Delhi airport. He was 64. His post mortem report revealed 90% blockage in one artery. Since we have a strong family history of heart disease, invariably, we would suggest a thorough checkup. But, he always brushed it aside.

He had his own philosophy and detested the very idea change in lifestyle that may be may be warranted. He had no symptoms nor was he indulgent type. His only aberration was need for extra sugar in his tea and was unabashedly assertive about it. His life was a saga of all round satisfaction. A happy marriage, worthy children, well-educated, married into good families, a granddaughter and unassailable financial security constituted his life. A contended person, he was perfectly at peace with himself and his surroundings. No regrets, no unfulfilled desires. Unwittingly, we the family, fell prey to his logic. Now, in the hindsight, we live with the guilt pangs which will not be forgotten easily.

I am trying to figure out whether it was a case of misplaced chivalry that took his life OR a game played by chromosomes. A close look points the finger towards the latter. It appears that men tend to be more casual in their approach to life as compared to women. In fact, it is considered to be a ‘macho’ instinct. Even when men become proactive, invariably it would have been caused by sustained spousal prodding.

In contrast women are more pragmatic. Life preservation comes to them naturally. It could be because only they are endowed with capabilities of giving birth. Physical discomforts as well as hormonal upheavals during pregnancy, delivery and post-natal periods build a formidable reserve of strength and resolve in them to protect life. It reflects in their attitude for their lifetime.

Am I right if I attribute it to chromosomes?

Let’s consider another game that chromosomes play.

There have been in my extended family, several examples of women surviving for many long years after demise of their spouses. Loneliness, at times neglect, notwithstanding. Men, in contrast do not last more than a few years. once their spouses depart. Do look around and you will agree.

Can we still call women, a ‘weaker sex’?

In the end, lets’ all agree that Mars and Venus definitely play their own magic which we call chromosome effect.

BON VOYAGE!

BON VOYAGE TOMY!

In a week’s time from now, Tomy Abhilash, will be setting the sail for a voyage round the world. He will be embarking on a solo venture, riding the waves for six long months. It certainly is not first ‘round the world’ solo voyage by an Indian. But Tomy’s mission is first of its kind by an Indian. His voyage named Sagar Parikrama II will not be making any stops during the protracted period at sea.

A 33 year old, Dornier Pilot with Indian Navy, Tomy is aware of the formidable challenges that lie ahead. He plans to counter these with indomitable courage, resolute spirit and unflagging faith in himself. His cheerful willingness to explore uncharted course is backed by endless optimism as he prepares for the task ahead. Besides, Tomy loves Solitude and intends to make most of it.

Meanwhile, ‘Mhadei’, his boat has been flagged off from Goa after, thorough check to ensure its sea-worthiness for the arduous journey head. Tomy’s source of inspiration, encouragement and guidance is none other than Commander Dilip Donde. Cdr Donde happens to be the first Indian to have achieved the rare feat of solo circumnavigation, albeit with stops.

As a part of efforts to restore the maritime glory, Indian Navy is supporting Lt Cdr Tomy Abhilash’s venture.

Let’s salute Tomy’s grit, determination and fortitude and Wish him Success.

BON VOYAGE, TOMY!

ROLL CALL FOR ROTIS

In a recent interview Nandita Das & Hubby Subodh Maskara come up with candid details of their lives which became the basis of their play, ‘Between the Lines’. It revolves around lives of protagonists who are as different as chalk & cheese which they attribute to diverse family backgrounds.  

At one stage Subodh talks about his family which like most Indian ones was a patriarchal set up. He then goes on to tell us about an amusing practice of Roti Roll Call during dinner times. They followed an unwritten protocol to serve Rotis first to the father, then to elder brother followed by younger one, then to sisters and so on. Women and kids were the last on the list. Surprisingly, I did not find it amusing because I had witnessed similar practices.

In fact Roti service has a special place in all households. Most homes follow the hierarchy. Men, especially family heads insist on being served hot-rotis straight from tawa. Pampered hubbies would even throw the roti away if it is not as per his liking. Throwing their plate of food by hubbies was even considered macho reflex. Strangely, their wives would extol these misdemeanors like virtues. Was it a privilege extended to the bread-winner?

What is the scene today? For one, kitchens have become smart and swanky spaces which cost loads of money. Best of gadgets and comfortable environs are the hallmarks of these kitchens. But the tragedy is that the owner lady hardly enters the area. She has abdicated it to the ubiquitous bai who quickly picks up tricks to cook in the hi-tech kitchen. A few years earlier, it was only the working women who took recourse to this arrangement. Today, even women who are only home-makers, shun kitchen chores.  

And what happens to the roll-call for rotis? That protocol is gone for a toss. And so is the craving for hot rotis. These households have become the fiefdom of cooks who come at their convenience, prepare food and go. You can consume it in ‘as is where is’ condition or ‘microwave’ it if you like it hot. Most families comprise members flitting in and out with no fixed schedules. Seldom do they dine together. Hierarchy is passé in these.

Another interesting fallout of the situation is that all family members learn to like whatever fare is served. No complaints, no arguments, no throwing of plates. Understandably, restaurant excursions become frequent for them.

WAITING FOR GODOT

“Waiting like they did for Godot” was the title of column by venerated city culturist, Shanta Gokhale in Mumbai Mirror of 4^th Sep.  Generally, she sticks to analysis of culture scene, coming up with rare insights into the goings on. As I pored over, I realized that this was not her normal fare. It turned out to be an anguish laden essay against wrong doings by our politicians. Going against her grain, she chose to lam-bast the band of bandits that rules us. She seemed to be particularly piqued about the scale of irrigation scams in Maharashtra. And in this case Godot is the elusive White Paper on irrigation projects.

Her rants reminded me of great ‘PULA’ the doyen amongst doyens on Maharashtra cultural scene. In 1977 when the nation was reeling under Emergency, Jayprakash Narayan had led the movement against political atrocities and excesses. At that time a whole lot of intellectuals from all walks of life including writers, poets had jumped into the fray adding literary fervor to the movement. Inimitable PULA added his own comic overtones, keeping the audience enthralled as only he could.  

It was like a non-violent revolution.

Time has come when intellectuals in greater numbers must pitch in and help initiate a new stratagem that can not only rid us of the rotten governance but also usher in an era of morality and accountability. Common goal should be to evolve a new system that keeps the interests of citizens as paramount.

Present system is blatantly arrogant and disrespectful of public sentiments. Our rulers have no qualms in resurrecting politicians who were shamed (were they?) by stigma of corruption. Nominating A. Raja and Suresh Kalmadi to Parliamentary standing committees is like spitting in your face. 

I am afraid; this could just be a test case. If they get away with it, they will be emboldened to exonerate all political scamsters and run away with the loot.

We are a very strange nation. We chose to remain silent spectators no matter how much are we pushed against the wall.

Ours is a country that for a long time was exporter of sugar. It was priced around Rs 15 per kg. All of sudden we were sold the story of unprecedented sugar shortages. To tide over the crisis and in view of festive season, government was forced to import sugar. It was a paradigm shift. Overnight, an exporting nation had become importer. Further, thresh-hold price of sugar went from Rs 15-16 to 35-36. They continue to be at same level since then. 

We remained unmoved then. We continue to be in state of stupor.

Dals are to Indian Cuisine what pastas are to Italian. For the less privileged sections of society which could not afford the luxury of vegetables, dals came as cheap source of nutrients. Some years back, we set up a commodities exchange. It is nothing but a gamblers’ den where ‘rich’ of the nation play checkers with our most essential needs. They make millions and prices of commodities rise steadily. Your dal is just one such commodity. Today, even middle class feels the pinch of pricing for dals. For the poor, fruits were unimaginable, vegetables unaffordable and now even dals have been tossed out of their plates.  Are we becoming roti-snatchers?

We still maintain a sphinx like silence.

Reducing the Value of 'Zero'

DEVALUING OF ‘ZERO’

“The penchant of seeking to become a hero by adding zeros (in CAG reports) does not mean a scam has taken place” – Manish Tiwari as reported in TOI on 26.09.2012

‘ZERO’ or ‘Shunya’ has been the greatest gift of India to the world of mathematics.

For a lay-person it represents lowest value. Congress has achieved a unique feat of ‘devaluing’ zero. Don’t believe? Check the history of scams. The speed at which Zeros are getting added to the values of scam, very soon we will lose the count.

And Congress does not believe in resting with their laurels. Zeros will continue to grow.

Zero is dead, long live zero!