An imaginary resignation letter

In case anyone’s missed the furore over the UPA’s Presidential nominee Pranab Mukherjee and his  resignation (or not) from the ISI (Indian Statistical Institute), links to news articles related to the tamasha here, here, here and here.

If you’ve been following the drama online, you’ll notice that every headline just says ISI and doesn’t specify which one, the Indian Statistical Institute or the not-so-friendly-neighbour’s Intelligence Service. The latter would be an amusing possibility, wouldn’t it ? Now that would really give the BJP reason to slam the UPA for encouraging and Pranab for indulging in illegal activity. And what an amusing resignation letter it would make, this is what I'm imagining :

Dear Sir,

I have been offered a senior position in another large organization and I have decided to accept it. As it is viewed in somewhat a competitive light, my membership of this august body would be in conflict with the new role and my responsibilities therein. (Also, the wife insists that I cannot be a party to plans to destruct my own backyard, and you know how obstinate Bengali ladies can be about small details that matter to them.)

Hence I humbly request you to accept my resignation. I hope you will release me from all duties as soon as possible.

Do convey my regards to the whole team, wishing all of you well in all future endeavours. I will continue to remain in touch and hope to maintain cordial relations, though in the interests of security, all parcels and gifts may be subjected to scrutiny.

                                                I remain,

                                                                                Yours sincerely, etc. etc.

• Zen

Ahsas

Recently watched a dance festival called ‘Ahsas', basically because the hoarding that advertised it had the magic words – ‘Entry Free’,  and it was being held in the an auditorium in the suburb where I live, two considerations that made it worth exploring. Nothing ventured nothing gained, as the saying goes; it turned out to have some really nice stuff, and is worth checking out next year in case you are interested in dance. (You can see some photos of the performances here.)

The Sumeet Nagdev Dance Academy organised it and their troupe performed several dances which were really good. One which was based on a parable about the Buddha was a visual treat and absolutely stunning – the dancers spun about like leaves in a puff of wind; another was a love song which was less of a grand visual spectacle, but had good dancing combined with live music.  Another piece I enjoyed was by David Poznanter of the USA, which was part dance, part acrobatics, part circus performance and thoroughly entertaining.

A serendipitious by-product of the show was that I discovered the way to manage irritating people who distract you by checking smses on their phones during movies and plays (As an aside –wish I was a poet, I’d write a poem like this one about them.). So what solution did I discover ? This time, instead of requesting the offender not to check smses repeatedly, or making irritating noises, I just leaned across and read the messages along with her. After a few instances of this nosy behaviour, the lady put the phone away in her handbag; and just in time too, I was getting ready to embarrass her further by correcting spelling and grammar mistakes in her messages. Of whch thr wr meny.

J

Zn

A song as protest, a song as resistance

Last Friday, this article in the newspaper pointed to where some followers of Gandhian philosophy exist – in far Norway ! They may not even be aware of how much they have in common with the Mahatma’s way of thought, but their actions sure echo his philosophy.

In a fitting reply to gunman Anders Behring Breivik (the one responsible for the massacre at a youth camp last year), who during his trial claimed that the children’s song ‘Children of the Rainbow’ was being used by ‘cultural Marxists’ to brainwash young children, tens of thousands gathered to sing the song in squares across Norway. The song celebrates the type of multicultural society Breivik has said he despised.

As the newspaper article says, ‘Shocked by Breivik’s lack of remorse for his massacre, Norwegians by and large have decided the best way to confront him is by demonstrating their commitment to everything he loathes.’ Not by calling for his immediate execution, not by wondering why millions are being spent on keeping a proven killer alive for a trial, but by demonstrating their commitment to everything he loathes and ensuring that his way of thinking does not win. Their reaction to Breivik was made even more fitting by having the singer Lillebjoern Nilsen lead the singing in Oslo’s Youngstorget square; Nilsen wrote the song in Norwegian and had been singled out by Breivik as, ‘…..a Marxist who infiltrated the cultural sector, (who) writes music that is used to brainwash children’. A ‘moonh tod jawaab’ as we say in Hindi !

Watch videos of the unusual protest here and here. And here’s the link to the Pete Seeger song  ‘My Rainbow Race’ on which the Norwegian song is based, have given the lyrics to the song below.

My Rainbow Race

By Pete Seeger

One blue sky above us, one ocean lapping all our shore

One earth so green and round, who could ask for more ?

And because I love you I’ll give it one more try

To show my rainbow race, it’s too soon to die.

Some folks want to be like an ostrich

Bury their heads in the sand

Some hope that plastic dreams

Can unclench all those greedy hands

Some hope to take the easy way

Poisons, bombs, they think we need ‘em

Don’t you know you can’t kill all the unbelievers ?

There’s no shortcut to freedom.

One blue sky above us, one ocean lapping all our shore

One earth so green and round, who could ask for more ?

And because I love you I’ll give it one more try

To show my rainbow race, it’s too soon to die.

Go tell, go tell all the little children

Tell all the mothers and fathers too

Now’s our last chance to learn to share

What’s been given to me and you.

One blue sky above us, one ocean lapping all our shore

One earth so green and round, who could ask for more ?

And because I love you I’ll give it one more try

To show my rainbow race, it’s too soon to die.

One blue sky above us, one ocean lapping all our shore

One earth so green and round, who could ask for more ?

K's list for Goa

Headed to Goa with no plan in mind
except to get away from the daily grind,
smsed K for advice on places to visit -
for Goa, K equals the ‘Lonely Planet’.

Anjuna beach first :
‘Curlie’s’ for chill-out, snacky food and breakfast,
‘Orange Bloom’ for breakfast more;
‘Infantaria’ on Baga-Calangute road for desserts galore
- you will love it
(quite prophetic,
loved their mixed fruit pancake
and the chocolate cheesecake).

Moving on to Baga beach :
‘Britto’s’ and ‘St. Anthony’s’,
‘O Cocero’ – where Charles Sobhraj was caught, you know,
(Ah, to soak in some local glamour before we go.)

For traditional Goan food
(spicy, non-veg and good);
‘Inferno’ for dinner at Candolim
‘Viva Panjim’ in – where else – Panjim !

In South Goa, ‘Martin’s’ for lunch,
And Varca beach has shacks in a bunch.

Now if it’s food for the soul you seek -
No, magic mushroom is not what I mean ( ! )
Its music I’m referring to;
For Jazz and Blues -
‘Stonehouse’ at Candolim –
(We found it awesome
And went there twice)
And Calanguate has ‘Take 5’;

For dancing, ‘Cavala’ at Baga is good, though
best Thursday nights, or ‘Mambo’;
‘Titos’ is over-rated.

Oh, and find out about ‘Sunburn’ it’s in Candolim.

- Adapted from K's sms by Zen

Girl and Boy

There was once was a boy
Who needed a toy
So he got himself a girl
But the girl was a witch
With a hypnotic twitch
And she made the Boy plain twirl

So he twirled and he twirled
Till his life was in a whirl
And couldn't tell his west from his east
But the girl was a beast
And she didn't care in the least
As she saw her toy boy unfurl

By,
Anonymous

Rockstar - Reflections, not a review

Chances are as you walk out of the theatre you may want to go sit in a quiet place.
As you think of the movie later, you will find several flaws in the script – but when watching it you sort of overlook it because this is Imitiaz’s best; amongst Rehman’s finest, (special mention for Irshad Kamil’s lyrics) and Ranbir, well, he is magic. He makes you burst out laughing, takes you along on his spiritual sojourn, encompasses you in the warmth of his hug (a brilliant touch), puts you in a trance when he’s on the dance floor and finally makes you feel his tragic helplessness…. And leaves you with the nagging question: why is it that only when the quantity of life is limited, that we gain awareness and courage to add quality to it?

Imtiaz Ali has a recurring theme in all his movies –unacknowledged love followed by separation, and then realization and a difficult unity…Rockstar has been the best so far, he has acting talent of a different league, he has some great dialogues, some heart wrenching moments …clever cinematographic technique– especially in the rock concert shots.
This movie is more about love and its accompaniments than the recipients of love …Maybe that’s why you can forgive the fact that the characters are sketchy especially the female character. Nargis has limited acting ability and a mouth that is more distracting than attractive. Shammi Kapoor is fabulous and is the only other actor who deserves mention. The movie has its heart in the right place and music that moves you like you had forgotten music could.

Warning: Savor the movie – it’s like eating a gourmet dish – let the flavors roll onto your tongue, let the taste travel to your brain (or will that be heart?) and relish it. You can feel the taste much after the meal is over. If you’re a fast food lover it may seem like much ado about nothing, slow and painful.

By,

Soma.

Emotions : Part 3 – Contentment

Sitting on top of a hill in the monsoon season, lush green below, blue-grey sky above. Looking at rain escaping the clouds and rushing down towards the earth, inhaling lungfuls of the fresh wet earth smell.
By,
Zen

Emotions : Part 2 – Despair

Same road, a hospital at the end of it. Observed just outside the hospital’s gate :

A young guy – 15-20 years old. Thin, not too tall. A face that started out being a rectangle, when the jaw bones suddenly dissented and decided to be sharp and angular instead. Mop of curly hair. Dressed shabbily – frayed jeans, faded top.

In the grip of some strong emotion which has been tightly reined in and suppressed – the effort is visible from the way he has clenched his jaw tight and from the muscles flickering in his cheek and temple.

He has a matchbox in one hand. He takes out one match at a time, strikes it against the matchbox, intently watches the flame flare and burn down, and tosses the match away just before it would have started to burn his fingers. Does not actually move his shoulder in the throwing gesture, just bends his arm at the elbow. Continues to do this with several matchsticks, does not look up from the matchbox and matchstick, as if it’s important to concentrate on every minute detail of this repetitive task. This simple task must be done to perfection. Each time.

Kchrikkkkk – flare – hold – stare
The only thing holding his sanity together.

By,
Zenobia Driver

Emotions : Happiness ! or Optimism.

A broad road fringed with tall trees, the pavement littered with branches that the BMC has chopped off prior to the monsoon. Some of the trees have creepers with big pink flowers growing on them, these give out a characteristic strong fragrance that defines this stretch of road during the flowering season. At a certain time every morning, the fragrance is obscured by the stink from the garbage collecting truck, it has an open top and dirty green maws from which streams of garbage hang and sway like so much spittle as it comes trundling down the road.

On most days, the garbage collecting men perch inside the truck’s cabin or on top of the body, in faded uniforms, shoulders slumped, faces downcast, hating their work and their fate. But today is different.

One of the garbage collectors is a young man, tall, dark and hefty, round-faced, with curly hair. His attire hints at his attitude - he wears a dark brown shirt with a mustard print, the first few buttons open – ishtyle hai bhai ! Around his neck he has a locket on a black string, from his hip pocket hangs a dark blue scarf.

This young man chooses to ride the garbage truck with attitude, like he’s at a rodeo, or shooting stunts for a film. He jumps on to the side of the truck as it starts off, and hangs there whistling a happy tune, chest thrown out, head flung back casually, scarf fluttering gaily in the wind, as if he has not a care in the world.

The tale we read in school was true – Aadmi khushi khoj lega ! (A man will find happiness)

Sounds familiar ?

One of my objectives while planning a vacation in Dehradun was to visit Mussourie, be at the Cambridge bookshop on Saturday evening when Mr. Ruskin Bond is reported to visit, and get one of my books autographed by him. Unfortunately, we ended up being in Mussourie on Friday, and even though we optimistically trotted off to the Cambridge bookshop, Mr. Bond wasn’t there. Shaken, but not stirred, we bought a Ruskin Bond book each at the shop, I picked up one titled ‘Rain in the Mountains’.

A passage from this is reproduced below, it reminded me of one of my bird-watching friends, she must be related to Sir E in some way.

Someone asked Sir E if he could shoot a bird on his land at Ramgarh. The man wanted the bird for dissection in a biology lab. Sir E refused.
“It’s in the interests of science,” protested the man. “Do you think a bird is better than a human ?”
“Infinitely,” said Sir E. “Infinitely better.”

Does the sentiment sound familiar to you too ? :-)

By,
Zenobia Driver