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Jai Hind

This is an email I wrote to my friends last year on Independence Day. I just looked at the list again and found that I still love each and every single item on it, just as much. Even the sad ones. Even the dispicable one. I love them all.

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I couldn't fit everything in. I couldn't even fit the most important things in. I tried. I couldn't fit in all the sad things, certainly not the all the happy things. I tried.

Kashmir. Kashmir ki kalli. Kyo ki saas bhi babhi bahu this. Amitabh. Jai Shree Krishna. Ekta Kapoor. (Hai Ram). Bhajans. Tulsi. Aagar batti. Bhenchod. Trucks. Truck Drivers. Bullock Carts. Honda Civic. Honda. Bajaj. TVS Scooty. Idea Cellular. Goa. Aguada. Farmers. EVERY SINGLE INDIAN FARMER. Ghats. Ghatis. 6-seater rickshaws with chaarso-bees drivers. Manjulabai having an affair with the watchman and staring down her nose at your boyfriend. Marathi. Hindi. Telugu. Wannakam. Elephants. (No, not to go to school on.) Brass handis. Pink Sarees. Taj Mahal. Thar. Konark. Kanyakumari. Mumbai models and Kashmiri beauties. The word 'kamar'. Burkhas, saris and skirts all going out to lunch. Seedy hotels with great food. Karigars. Upset Stomaches. No water in villages for months on end. No villagers left in villages. Harsud. Naya Harsud. Mangoes. Tablas. Limbu Pani. Lassi. Mango Lassi. Air India to London. Kids playing football in the rain. Kolhapuri chappals. River-Linking. (Not whilst I'm alive.) Silver Kohlapuri Chappals. Indradhanush. Wada-pav. Pomfret. Prawn curry. (OH DAMN IT - ALL THE FOOD. ALL THE FOOD.) Monsoon. Hindi. Hindi teachers. Tuition teachers. Mumbai. Cycles. Dabba-wallahs. Shahrukh Khan. Flutes. The Bold and the Beautiful. Om Puri. Manoj Bajpai. Rajkumaris. Faux Rajkumaris. Faux Rajkumaris in Central London clubs. India-Gate. Rajkumars. (There are no faux Rajkumars). Baniyan-Brief for Rs. 25/-. Torn Baniyan. Cricket. Chai-tapri. Tapri-chai. The Right to Information.

Himalayas. Uttaranchal. Uttaranchal. Yeh to patta nahin, ji. Bumpy roads. Expressway. Illicit driving license. Driving school teachers picking you up from your house. Kerala. Lift-man. Red earth. Nine West. Bail-gaddi.Bombay Bomb Blasts. Baga beach. Tibetan joints. Watchmen with whistles. (Watchmen with whistles blowing them full-on in the middle of the night, right outside your window.) Lathi-charge. Lathi. Kodaikanal. Lonavala. Bijli. Karate. Shikar - STILL. Bijli band. Taj Mahal. Delhi Station. Nuclear Scientists and Poets. Red Fort. Dhobis. Maalis. The Armed Forces ('Come Be a Jawan Today'). Agni. AK-47s. Kargil. Siachin. Marigolds. Valley of flowers. Hockey. Tantra. Mynahs.

Mussourie. Manali. Jodhpur. Sandstone. Black Cotton Soil. Fields. Brown Fields. Anna Hazare. Green Fields. Paddy Fields. Parrots. Tigers. Tiger kings. Reliance. Reliance. Reliance. Delhi Parliament Attacks. Tippu Sultan. Jataka. Palki. Palaak. Doordarshan. Mahabharat on Doordarshan. The Olympics on Doordarshan. Baazar. Bhendi. Mynahs. Sardar Sarovar. 40 million dam-displaced. Farmer suicides. Project Tiger. Sariska. Shikari. Beggars on platforms. Beggars on streets. Beggars smiling at you and giving you a blessing. Beggars shouting at you in incomprehensible-curse-dialect. Soft Porn sold on the road. Moghras sold on the road. Shivaji. Tongas. (Where do you still find tongas?) Dehradun. Lapwing calls. German bakery. Chappals. Chai. Filter Coffee. Dosa. Halwa. Full moon shining on banyan trees. Kamasutra. Gulmohar (I know, Mr. Gole, its' not indigenous.)

Not because of,

Not inspite of.

Just.

Jai Hind.

Haiku and more

Back in England.
Today is my birthday.
Who knows.

Somewhere, I'm sure, in those twisted mountains in Ellora, there is a door-gaurd who knows.

Ellora - II

After the lushness of Kailasa, a walk around the hillside to the Buddhist and Jain caves feels either like a cool breeze or a splash of icewater. Depending on how much you melted at Shiva's feet. It felt like a splash of cold water to me. And I was completely swept away. There is something even more moving about the Buddhist caves. Their austerity only highlights the perfection of technique, the expressions on the Buddha's face leap out at you all the more because he is the only one in the room. There is no throng of people here, living, dying. No ceaseless press of life. There is only being, no becoming. And yet, there is nothing static about these caves. Some of the images that have stayed with me:

Inside a small, small chamber, the Buddha is seated in a teaching position. His eyes are shut and he is smiling that halfsmile of his that makes all of your smiles suddenly seem fake by comparison. (New personal challenge for 2007: Smile one cosmic smile.) You walk the length of the empty cave up to this tiny chamber at the far end. All the while, you imagine that the Buddha is alone in there. You peep inside, mesmerised by that smile. You don't notice that on either side of this tiny chamber, there are two perfect creatures looking down at you from either side. Door gaurds. They actually keep you out. The sight of them is so unexpected, they look so real, so vibrant, so from-somewhere-else, you feel a whole lot of healthy respect and a great deal of awe, and you are prevented from taking that step into the sanctum. (Though the marks on the inside walls prove that I might be a fool for thinking this way - people have obviously gone right in.)

Inside the Vishwakarma, a hundred impressions first crowd for space and then melt away as you drown in the mighty face in front of you. Two things that struck me immediately: Between the pillars and the walls of the dimly lit cave, you can only see darkness receeding into the distance. You imagine it stretching all the way to the end of the cave, where, ultimately, it will curve around the back of the seated Buddha and you will get a glimmer of light from the only window in the room. At this point, you will be sharing a piece of the sky with him. From the entrance of the cave, those passages look like doorways to other worlds.
Secondly - Inside this cave, the acoustics magnify the slightest sound. There is no other ornamentation, hardly any light. In the looming darkness, the Buddha seats enormously, lit only by one shaft of pale sunshine. The pillars on either side are almost oppressive. The ceiling looks like a ribcage. You are inside a spiritbody. And there is nothing else. You cannot think a single coherent thought, you feel the impulse to whisper. But far from being oppressive, the overall impression is one of liberation. There is nothing else.
After I have taken my photos, I walk outside to put on my shoes and change my mind. The cave is totally empty now. I run inside, kneel at his feet and press my forehead to the ground. I look up and smile, and run out again before anyone else has a chance to come in.

Ellora - I

I thought I would write about Ellora as soon as I returned home. That way, I reasoned, a lot of the detail would be preserved. I realize now how silly that impulse was: more has been written about Ellora than I can hope to even read, let alone better. And the rapture in the detail can only be experienced, not read about. As for preserving my impressions in their entirety, I'm glad I'm writing late. This way, the ones that have really stuck - the ones that mean the most to me personally, - I can write about. So. Here are some of the things that return to me again and again:
- Nataraja, larger than life, dancing the world to ruin and destruction. Underneath his thumping feet, famine, destruction and panic. His arms outstretched, his head tilted back. I recognize that expression as my own. As everyone's. I imagine swirls of energy, of light, of flame, wreathing him. His aura, if he had one, would simmer. It makes me panic just looking at him like that. It makes me cry to see that one of his hands cups the cheek of his wife, seated at his feet. Don't be scared.

- On the opposite wall, Shiva, larger than life, meditating. Shiva as a man. A simple yogi. His expression will come back to me many caves later when I look at the Buddha's peaceful face. And I will recognize it as something not of this world.

- Two lovers engraved on the wall of Kailasa temple: He holds her face and bends down to kiss her. Again, I recognize that kiss. So do you. It is the splitlightsecond before the first I love you. It is the minute before a long parting or the instant when, after your return, you are held once again and feel that no matter how long your journey, the one step into waiting arms is what has brought you home. We all recognize that moment.

- Seven mothers hold their children. Their bodies appear animate with love. 'I remember how my mother used to embrace me. I would look up sometimes and see her weep'.

- Shiva and Parvati. Talking, embracing, cuddling, teaching-and-learning (though in that one she looks tense, nervous. As if he will reproach her for not understanding his point). Kissing. Making love. Standing there so real at the end of dark corridors, so large, so full of energy that I begin to forget that I am in a temple of stone. The first step to this forgetting is when I start to think how lifelike they 'look', and wonder - If stone can be so alive, how infinitely alive am I?! And everyone around me. And these trees! And the rock that makes this mountain, and this air! I take a deep breath and look at the end of this particular corridor again. There, in the dim shadows I see the curve of Parvatis' waist and Shiva's fingers resting lightly against it. I see their bent heads, leaning into each other. The curve of one of her knees. I feel that she feels the strength of the arms that encircle her shoulders. And that's it. I've forgotten that these creatures look alive. They are alive. I've forgotten that centuries separate the sculptor and me. I forget that myth and reality separates Shiva and me. I forget everything, and walk forward smiling, to meet my friend.
I will never, ever, forget that. And I will never, ever say 'looks alive' ever again.

What is Indian Morality?

An article about sex education in India in the International Herald Tribune yesterday sparked this off. Specifically, this inane statement by Shivraj Singh Chouhan, chief minister of Madhya Pradesh: "government has devaluated (sic) Indian culture and its values...Instead, the younger generation should be taught about yoga, Indian culture and its values." Right. Let's just deconstruct 'Indian Values'.
Perhaps the values Chouhan mentions can be found here. Specifically, perhaps it is our typically Indian set of values that allows each one of us to talk the talk and walk right past houses like this everyday on our way to glitzy malls or highrise offices or the airport - so that we can get out, get out, GET OUT. After all, in a country where people living in the heart of even wealthy areas live hunter-gatherer lifestyles, perhaps it is only moral for us to look away. Shame on them, grovelling in the dirt. (Photo source)

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Perhaps Indian morality is to be sidestepped when it comes to the media. I don't see anyone successfully shutting down Cosmopolitan. Even though, hell, whether I was having casual sex in Pune or not, I could most certainly learn how to 'do it well', once a month. I could also watch saas-bahu soap-operas on TV where X is the illegitimate son of Y who is sleeping with Z who is actually his older sister. These soaps have won lots of praise for being wholesome family entertainment that depicts 'Indian Values'. Much appreciative clucking goes on when some particularly virtuous virgin shuns the attention of some ruffian lothario because such rendezvous are 'Not in (her) culture.' Of course not. But hold on, what does our virtuous virgin watch for entertainment? Bollywood dramas where hips thrust from east to west and women are jolted up and down to the pelvic thrusts of romeos driven mad with lust for their jawani. Please. Where are Indian values in Indian cinema?! (Photo source)
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Oh dear oh dear. What can I say. If I took a little girl here would I tell her to look away? Or would I tell her that ancient India had a stunning appreciation of the power, beauty and poetry of the human body, used it to great symbolic effect and didn't shy away, in it's art, from depicting sex as - well - great! As fun! As sacred! (And since when have those two things not mixed?!) Would I tell this girl (lets imagine she's curious - all the little girls I know, are) about the sexual rites of Tantra, about the graphically detailed Kama Sutra, about the legendary sexual exploits of Krishna or Shiva? Would I tell her about the poetry of Mirabai, some of whose pieces drip lust and passion from every line? (Photo source) (Also see here for a fabulous article that deals, in part, with the blatant sexuality of Chola art.)




Perhaps Chouhan should consider this before implying that 'morality' is in any way connected to the bland, lifeless, literalistic interpretations of 'virtue' so often imposed on 'Indian culture'. What such interpretations often lack is an appreciation of the role of intent. Surely the intent (or lack thereof) involved in our blind eye towards the poverty that surrounds us implies much worse malevolence than the sex education programme? Perhaps the hypocrisy of a government that applauds India's' 'free media' but then rants from the rooftops about 'dirty sex scenes' represents far worse ignorance? The intent behind the sex education programme is to save lives through education. From this perspective, how can a balanced, open discussion of sex and sexual health pollute intent?! The very 'worst' (I use that word to pander to Chouhan's perspective, not my own) it can do is encourage the entirely healthy curiosity about an aspect of life that is naturally awakening at adolescence. And wouldn't teenagers who seek to indulge their curiosity be physically and psychologically safer if they had had some sex education?

Responses to The Alarmist Perspective

This is shaping up into a valuable debate, for me at least.
Here are two responses to 'The Alarmist Perspective' (below):
Response 1:
Again, as you said, I think you've done a better job than the article in articulating what the problem is. And

while that has it's use (I'm not for a moment implying that just because you don't have a 100% doable solution, you stop talking about the problem), you still haven't given me much clarity on what can be done. I ask that because even if the government won't listen (as of now, that may change), industry might. For selfish reasons like "we care about the environment, buy our products". It's happening in the West, it'll come here. But my sincere advice to you in your struggle would be not just to tell us all what's wrong, but identify realistic ways of changing or at least amending it.

Response 2:
I'll try and keep it as short as possible - I thought the article was thought provoking. However, most such writing is rarely ever action-oriented, which in turn means that although it aims at drawing attention to a problem, offering solutions is not the aim.

In this case, especially, offering solutions is not entirely possible. Not because we aren't well equipped but simply because solutions will come with understanding and that won't come when there's such widespread ignorance about the absolute criminality that for instance, gas spewing generators perpetuate.

As for your take on the issue, especially the theoretical aspect of it, Za, it makes a lot of sense to fit such patterns into a larger psycho- economical framework. Where I work, this is what we are trying to tell the government - that growth is usually viewed as progress when actually it might imply a change. In theoretical terms, what we view as a linear and upward trajectory might be a parallel process. So, we've been trying to get the planning commission to listen to the idea of having separate planning processes for growth that will necessiate sustenance of what we already have and growth that will take us further. As we explain to the babus, the difference is if I have an apple, do I want to keep it fresh or do I want to make it into juice? And more importantly, that making it into juice will means I have to keep it fresh first.

I hope that makes sense to you? I work with a government where the going is tough. It might offer some hope to say that I see the will to change things only growing. That has come about because we lot (that Za calls social activists, who are actually just restless creatures gnawing at the government day in day out) refuse to give in to a normative discourse, which in this country is very very easy to do. Instead, we are stressing the pragmatic benefits of taking an alternative approach. I must say that I am very very impressed with how increasingly attentive the political establishments are in this regard.
As for the corporate giants, I am repulsed by how little they do. Body Shop for instance go around advertising their "good" behaviour. But what about it's nine other sister concerns all owned by L'Oreal that don't do anything even remotely close to what Body Shop preaches through it's product advertising? Sorry, perhaps I expect too much. But I don't agree when it is alleged that the government might not listen, but corporates will for whatever motive. History shows otherwise. We must remember that at the end of the day, the government is a non profit organisation - which means it will do whatever necessary to govern the country and that won't happen if the country is going up in smoke. I know I said I'd keep it short. Blimey!

I also received a very well thought out, valuable comment on some of my economic points in a Comment to the original post.

This post is getting rather long though, so I will summarize my arguments for and against all three responses in a separate one. Keep the arguments coming!

The Alarmist Perspective

A couple of weeks ago, an article in the International Herald Tribune caught my attention.
The piece deals with the huge shortfall between capacity and demand for power in Growing India and the hugely inequitable supply that results from this.

I've been reading things like this for a while - as will anyone who reads the news - but I thought it was interesting that the article was carried by a non-Indian newspaper. Says something about the scale of the problem, I thought. So, as is my wont, I sent the article out to a bunch of my Indian friends and asked them what they thought.

A question that subsequently arose in one of the responses was: Is halting economic growth really the answer?
Great question. I thought it'd be great practice at debating, communicating and thinking, to respond. Below is the email I sent in return. I'd love some constructive criticism on the points I made:
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Hey,
Thank you for asking the hard question. (If you were simply asking it in passing, forgive me the spiel below, but simply cannot resist debate and practice. So spiel below I will, please.)

My Response, off the top of my head and not relying on any 'party line', this is just me talking back:

It was a while ago that I read this article, so I don't remember the subtler messages, but if it did imply that halting economic growth is the solution then no, I don't agree either. Obviously though, there must be room for subtler solutions: it can't be either zero-growth or unbridled growth at any and all costs.

A couple of points I would make off the top of my head:

1. Inclusive growth seems impossible in trickle-down perspectives. This assumes that if we have a large amount of wealth, the benefits of this will trickle downwards to those who need it, ultimately. The inherent paradox is: Economics assumes the Perfectly Rational Man, but trickle-down requires a certain degree of altruism. Perfectly Rational Men are, (at the risk of vast oversimplification) opportunistic, relatively short-sighted and basically out to get the largest slice of the pie. (Obviously. I am not implying that rationality is evil, but this is what it entails - do everything in your power to be on top, push, struggle, get there. And I am like that too, I don't deny it. Why else have I accumulated a carbon footprint large enough for some small nations, trying to get a PhD.)

2. Lets not forget that this model of economic growth also assumes infinite resources. Our economy - even when it switches from manufacturing to services (as economies in the process of becoming 'developed' do), is powered by coal, oil, natural gas, and hydro- power. Two things stem from this:
2a.) The power of these resources flows from resource-rich but economically marginalized areas (the countryside) to resource-poor economically integrated areas (cites and industrial centres). This inherently furthers the marginalization of large sections of our population.
2b.) The resources themselves, managed as they are at present, will either run out or become unfeasibly expensive to harvest within the next two generations (an oversimplification based on some theory and some observation, but you can change the numbers from 2 generations to 5 to 10 - the ultimate answer is not less alarming for it). After that, technologically developed 'alternatives', so far untested for the scale and depth at which they will have to be employed, are assumed to 'take over'. For the concerned environmentalist and social scientist, this reads (much to my alarm) as follows: An over-heating economy marked by inequity and resource-poverty is about to explode into absolute chaos.

The underlying theme in all of this: Inclusivity does not come with increased growth, it comes with effective distribution. Right now I see lots of growth, but where is it going? Is anyone consciously putting in as much effort into distributing the benefits as they are into powering even more growth? (In pockets, they are. Great. More power to the people driving the process, and long may it continue. But overall, I think the balance is still skewed in favour of more, more MORE.) If overall economic well being were the aim, I would see a balance between growth, sustainability and equity.

I do not see this. If you do, let me know - it would lift some of my blackness to find that no problems exist where I think they do.

If I sound Marxist, worry not, I'm not calling for that - I'm in no place to offer a solution like that. All I can say is that: grow as much as you want, the problems will grow in lockstep if growth does not assume a radically different face, because the paradoxes are built in.

Right. So I've done worse than the article by now: brought in lots of theory, sounded alarmist and not offered a concrete way out. Great. At least it's practice in how (not to) communicate. Blah. Honestly, what is the point, no one is going to listen to a dolly-haired girl wearing Miss Selfridge shorts and red nailpolish. Humph.

Rambling incoherently now,
Zareen.