An Eye for Interesting Stuff

At the outset, let me admit that I am an Indian Express loyalist and have been one for years. Amongst the English language newspapers, they are one of the few that have resisted the temptation of transforming into a blingy-n-bright tabloid, and actually deliver a daily dose of credible news. They still stick to their superior investigative journalism, and occasionally re-open a decades old cover-up that all other newspapers seem to have forgotten about. To add to this, they have a local news and cultural events section that reports happenings other than page 3 parties. I think all this more than makes up for the occasional grammatical error and the poor print quality that sometimes leaves me with grey smudges on my fingers.

Last weekend, the Express gave me yet another reason to remain loyal – they expanded the Sunday supplement, the ‘Eye’, into a magazine. And a magazine that is perfect for a Sunday morning read –a well-balanced eclectic mix of topics, something that you won’t just skim through in a hurry to get to more interesting parts of your day, but will want to savour fully as you read from beginning to end of each article.

Consider last weekend’s articles. There were a few unusual travel write-ups, one where Bharath Moro tracked small bars in small towns from Koraput to Firozpur to Managuru (where the hell is that ?!!); another about two young American Muslims that travelled across America during Ramzan and break their roza every evening in a different mosque in a different city, another by Venita Coelho – a local’s look at the madness that is the tourist season in Goa. There were also a few articles on technology, a few on different industries, and then some current events / general knowledge stuff, politics - an interview of L.K.Advani (though his vintage is not exactly ‘current’), and economics - a blow-by-blow behind-the-scenes account of how India avoided a crisis in 2008, the key players, their actions and reactions. Also a very interesting article on the Salvis, one of the last families keeping alive the art of weaving Patan Patola saris .

A great read with a hot cup of tea / coffee by your side. Buy the Indian Express folks, at least every Sunday.

By,
Zen

R's Reality Check Moment

Here's the link to the post I had written a few weeks ago.

This is what a lady from Madhubani told R recently :
"After a lot of effort things have changed for the better. Now no children below the age of 6 are being married off in our area."

As the title of the original post said, 'The Times they are a-changing, but not fast enough'.

A 'Dabangg' Review

Watched ‘Dabangg’ in a late-night show a raucous sell-out crowd. Salman has reinvented himself as Rajni, going by the nature of the movie, the mannerisms with sunglasses, the humanly impossible action scenes and the wild adulation he receives from the audience. I haven’t heard so much hooting, clapping and whistling from a multiplex crowd ever. The movie is full of senseless violence, but keeps a light undertone throughout. For a change, Salman doesn’t ham and contort his face when doing humourous scenes. Dimple in a role as Salman’s Mum does a notable job. Sonakshi and Sonu Sood are pretty decent too. All in all, paisa vasool stuff especially if you are a Salman fan.

By,
Sachin

Panchgani trip - 1

A bunch of us set off for Panchgani one rain-drenched morning a few weeks ago. The five hour drive from Bombay, though a bit long, was not tedious at all – the view provided sufficient distraction, and there were friends and a music system for further amusement. It was the kind of journey that made one want to break out into ‘suhaanaa safar aur yeh mausam haseen’ (assuming one was one of the same vintage as yours truly, of course); intermittent downpours caused by the heavy grey monsoon clouds thudding across the sky, hills nearby covered with a canopy of green, hills in the distance wearing wreaths of vapour on their crowns.









We had been lucky enough to get rooms at a highly recommended place called ‘Il Palazzo’, fewer people must travel to Panchgani during the monsoon season. We caused some consternation in the kitchen when we arrived – I had omitted to mention that two of our group were vegetarians, the lunch that the hotel had prepared had mostly non-veg items. They quickly managed to rustle up enough for a meal for two vegetarians though. (Note : For non-vegetarians, meals here are like being transported to paradise –mutton, chicken and fish – all in one meal and all delicious. The amount you hog makes you feel quite guilty, though not guilty enough to skip dessert.) Lunch was served in a small porch-like area just outside our rooms, which gave us the satisfaction of looking out at the tall trees in the garden swaying in the rain and added an exciting picnic – like feeling to the meal. Like pythons that need to rest after a heavy meal, we all collapsed into bed after lunch, only to emerge in the evening at the sound of the tinkle of tea-things being laid for those in neighbouring rooms.



After tea, two of us set out for a small stroll. We stayed off the main road and walked along small streets set with cute cottages. We passed a charming and modest temple, all white with a reddish-orange border like a Bengali sari. We meandered up and down roads at random, seeing where they lead to. By the time we decided to return, it had darkened a bit and we could see a fine mist descending down the hill onto the road. A breeze that had simultaneously sprung up in the opposite direction seemed to push the mist back. The long white fingers of the mist retreated, regrouped and then rushed downhill again. Fascinated, we watched the wind and the mist sparring to establish dominion over this part of the road. The mist was victorious eventually and we decided to hurry back to our hotel before it got dark.

Around this time, we heard the evening call of a masjid, the silence it made its way through and the deep baritone of the person calling to the faithful in an unhurried rhythmic cadence made it a very peaceful sound, one we hadn’t heard in a long time in the din of the metropolis we live in.

As it got darker, the walk was loaded with the faintly-remembered atmosphere of hill-stations visited during childhood. Trees loomed over us on both sides of the road, not fully visible due to the mist, just a darker shadow against the grey misty night; street-lamps were a circle of yellow light diffusing through the halo of fog around them; the light filtering out through chinks in window-curtains all but reminding us to scurry home quickly lest we get lost and Mummy is unable to find us ever again.

The walk reassured us that the decision to come to Panchgani had not been wrong and this was a great place for a short weekend away from Mumbai – easily accessible, yet not too crowded, and really green, with just the right amount of activity for a peaceful indulgent escape. We resolved to fully explore the place the next day.

By,
Zen

The Taxman Cometh !

Read this in Bill Bryson's 'The Life and Times of the Thunderbolt Kid' recently :

In Washington, DC, gunman John A. Kendrick testified that he was offered $ 2,500 to murder Michael Lee, but declined the job because 'when I got done paying taxes out of that, what would I have left?'
- Time Magazine, 7 January 1953

parappapaaraa I'm Lovin' it !
- Zen