Boudoir of the Clouds..

Some of the best things in life happen on an impulse. When you take a quick step forward (or even sideways…away from the rut and all of that!) without burdening the lightness of the decision with too much rationality.

It all started with a mail on the yahoo group of the hallowed alma mater. The plan was to trek 40 odd kms from the hill station of Lonavla into the Sahyadri hills followed by an overnight stay at a village tucked away in the valley and then circling back into Lonavla, within 48 hours.

The obscurity that my existing weekend plans were shrouded in combined with the call of the mountains made me take the earliest train out of Mumbai to Lonavla.

The monsoons having found a resting place in the hills, the raindrops had not left a single stone unturned! Moss and bright green fern sheathed the landscape as far as the eye could see. As the cloud-covered hills played hide-and-seek through tunnel upon tunnel, the sounds of Mumbai faded into the distance. The green air enveloped me and the white plumes nestled into the cosy lap of the valley.

The trek group awaited me just outside the station and as I joined them, a light drizzle set the tone for our journey into the mountains. Our first stop was the nearest dhaba for a welcome bite of breakfast and some hot coffee. Appropriately satiated, we started off on the first leg of the trek.

The winding path through the hills was covered in smooth gravel in the beginning and soon became a bed of moss-covered rocks. Monsoons had spread their veil all around, from the little streams that found niches for themselves amongst the foliage to the small mudslides, where you had to clutch on to the twigs on the hillside lest you slip into the valley below.

My cravings for a cup of ginger tea found the most heart-warming haven I could have imagined. The route was dotted with little ‘tapris’ made of nothing more than a few bamboo poles and a plastic tent-like covering, which housed a solitary soul nursing a kettle. With the raindrops beating out a strange rhythm on the tarpaulin and the hillsides acquiring a blurred green-grey tinge, I could’nt have asked for a better ambience to compliment my cuppa!

Our ramblings found their destination at a tiny village nestled in one of the nooks in the mountains. A crowd of hens greeted our entry into the house we were to stay at, rather inquisitively pecking at our shoes. A hot cup of chai and some warm clothes later, the world felt cosy and blissful. The evening grew from twilight into the glow of kerosene lamps and the sparks flying from the woodfire in the kitchen.

All was still. No television breaking the silence with news. No frantic yodeling of the mobile phone. No rush and tumble of the traffic. Just the sound of the crackling fire and the soft clucking of the hens.

.......

The edges of the world are blurred as the mist blunts the contours of the mountains. I feel like I have entered a white cave, the boudoir of the clouds!

Robert Frost, if I may borrow your words; words which instinctively well up inside me.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep

But I have promises to keep,

And miles to go before I sleep,

And miles to go before I sleep.

'WE’ - THE PEOPLE: The Questions the Mumbai Blasts raise

This was sent to me by a friend in response to my post on the Seven Eleven blasts in Mumbai. Cutting away from the emotional post-mortem of the terror attack, she raises some very important fundamental questions which focus on the very root of our societal fabric.

And I quote:

When I go through the questions put up to the police force, the politicians, lawyers, and the diplomats of the country (which I agree is a question which should, more importantly, be put to the general public as well, since they are the ones who bear the brunt of these disasters, be it floods, monsoons or terrorist attacks) I feel and I know that each one has to not only have an opinion/ suggestion to make but also that each one has to actively engage in holding the powers that be responsible and not just passively bear and work their way painfully (a mild word) out of each catastrophe.

Before we go on to the specifics of the questions put up, let us look at the causal factors that make us, the common man/woman what we are:

• The question is not whether we ask for redressal, help, security, protection and compensation or not; the question is whether we, the common man on the street (perhaps more specifically, the less privileged members of society, who are the ones who get swatted like flies in each one of these mishaps and are forgotten) IS EVEN AWARE OF HIS/HER RIGHTS AS A HUMAN AND A CITIZEN OF THE COUNTRY.
• Does he know that the GOVT. (along with the machinery of the police, judiciary, civic authorities etc.) which he has brought to power is answerable to him, his well being, his safety, his welfare and that IT SHOULD BE DEEPLY and SINCERELY COMMITTED TO ALL OF THE ABOVE and not just use him to its convenience or use repeated, clever tactics, to apply cosmetic dressings to his wounds, as and when the need arises.
• Does he (the repeated use of the male pronoun is merely for convenience and has nothing to do with gender bias) realize even as he frantically fends for himself after each of these avoidable disasters, that tolerance, beyond a certain justifiable limit is a crime, and has to be abandoned with alacrity?
• For these unaware millions who live and die as decreed by the makers of their destiny, is it not a pressing need, that they be made aware of what their rights are as humans and citizens and that other than the economic divide, they are as important and as valuable a member of this great (?) country as the more well endowed?
• In the situation of their being unaware of their rights as important, dignified members of society, is it not the very step in the growth of a democracy, which professes to consider itself one, that they are diligently made aware of them?
• Last and not the least of all, why do we (with exceptions) sit back each time and wait for help and guidance to arrive? Why doesn’t each one of us consider it our right, duty and prerogative to question, help question, spread awareness and proactive-ness among these less aware and more helpless/voiceless populace?
  
  In other words, why do we allow the Powers-that-be to take advantage of our patience (a questionable virtue in the time that we live in!) and misplaced tolerance, and then blame them later?
  
  As a consequence of all the above, can we help transform the scenario (including helping others around us do the same) by being more caring, responsible citizens, by educating ourselves to take positive measures and making an unswerving stand in our demand for our rights?

Close Quotes

Seven Eleven at Mumbai

I must admit that I have been gone through the gamut of emotions: shock, dismay, anger and a sense of futility after the blasts shook Mumbai, so much so that I have been too overcome to blog about it.

This is my response to Mridula's blog post about incessant gory visuals of the blast sites on the TV channels.

At the outset, the blasts were a diabolical act of violence planned and executed by Depravity. Innocent human beings lost their lives in the midst of the sound and merciless fury of explosives.

The Television channels reported live from the blast sites with real-time information on the immediate impact and ensuing rescue services. I was following the reporting on NDTV, CNN-IBN and BBC. As the phone lines got congested, the channels started running messages recieved from people over email and SMS. The channels contacted all the relevant officials ranging from the Western Railways to the state government for their immediate reactions as well as planned course of action. As time passed, the channels played an important role in co-ordinating efforts to help the victims. In fact, one of the most critical roles the channels have played in the aftermath were to focus on individuals who are unable to trace their loved ones in the chaos, individuals who are running from hospital to hospital to check the bodies and are not able to trace their names on the published lists of the dead/missing.

The channels have not limited their role to live reporting. In fact Rajdeep Sardesai brought in panelists from the fields of Intelligence, Police, Diplomacy, Judiciary and Government to focus attention on extremely critical issues like:

1. Why is India viewed as a soft target?
2. What are the implications of this latest series of blasts for the Intelligence Agencies, which have slipped up yet again?
3. What is the judicial process for the criminals who were accused/under trial for the previous blasts in Mumbai, Delhi, Varanasi? Why have none of the accused been convicted so far?
4. How should this be tackled on the diplomatic front by our political leaders?
   

These are extremely relevant issues for any citizen who wants to throw off the cloak of complacency and ask our politicians and intelligence agencies some tough questions.

Bloodshed is a excruciatingly real image of a bomb blast. To skim over it like it did'nt exist would be to overlook the reality and cower in a safe corner of comfort. We, who are fortunate enough to be alive, should not shy away from gory images because they shock our complacent sensibilities.

The Myth of the New India

New York Times christens the India Growth story "The Myth of the New India " and presents pertinent facts to justify its viewpoint. You can read it here.

Methinks:

1. Don't all "developing"/"emerging" economies face sudden growth in certain areas and slower/stagnant growth in others?
2. Is it possible that the "growing" part of the economy will pull the rest along with it? For eg: Will accelerated globalisation also have good side effects like focus on infrastructure development, albeit with a certain time lag?
3. The India growth story is definitely not a myth going purely by untapped market potential. But to proclaim too much too soon would be a mistake. However, if the good PR helps India, who's complaining?
4. Generically speaking, the rise of media leads to the rise of hype. Hype surrounds just about any newsworthy issue these days. Can India be an exception?

What do you think?

Iam currently Out of Office.

I am away from office for just one day and the world as I know it changes!!


S goes blonde! Yes, the babe with the just-about-there locks has decided to make her mane's presence felt. Now she has that Rakhi Sawant look which kinda completes the picture. You can't miss her in a million.


The Company's Intranet has become a dating site! N has acquired some unexpected admirers. A lonely soul from hyderabad decided to end his agony and ask N out. It will be a tumultuous meeting of souls because N is currently quite happily married. To a girl.

"Easy like sunday morning"

The morning breeze drifts in through my window in slow motion. The rustle of the drizzly leaves melts into the rhythm of the rain. The whispering droplets grow into a crescendo and awaken the colors. Green has more Green for company. Grey looks on with a benign smile and sends down impetuous messengers of green life.

Lionel Richie glides in, easy like sunday morning, and brings in the lazy aroma of ginger tea and the blurry words of the newspaper. We sip in the companionable sound of silence.

The contours of the room become sharper and the words jump into life. Those familiar pages spark pleasant happy animation in my mind. As the notes of "Walking in Memphis" fill the air, the pitter-patter of the rain seems to dull down, as if its receding into the distance. Now, all I can hear is the soft drip-drop as the leaves selflessly shower their moistness on the earth below keeping only a veneer of green shine for themselves.

All is still.

One ray of sun peeps out. Like a mischievious child trying to escape from the classroom without the teacher noticing. And soon enough, many more follow suit and the green and brown glisten in the sunshine. The grey takes a break.

The animation reaches my feet which lead me quite inexorably towards the ocean. As I stand facing the waves, the smell of rain and the salty sea fills my senses like a Mozart sonata.

The sunday morning envelopes me.