The Fanatically Unfanatic!

The 20th century was easily the bloodiest ever. The World Wars and many more squabbles over territories, and all the by-products of war killed half a billion people over the hundred years. As a result, we have been left with an eternal scar marking our own generation. The conflicts were all racial, or religious, with an absolute intolerance for the other. And so, our generation is veered towards being, tolerant and politically correct. We are trying to be tolerant towards each other.
And what a virtue that, is. People of different colours creeds now sit together in an office enclosure and share their ideas to make the ends better. People of different nationalities embrace each other in sporting competitions where they may be part of the same team geared towards the same end. And indeed, America may soon vote for a female President.
But are we overdoing things? Has political corrected ness become a malign, a disease? So much so that a buffalo may not be called buffalo, because it may feel bad. A tigress will complain of being called so, and in an equal world, both male and female should simply be called a tiger. A well fed domestic dog may not be called gorgeous lest the street ranger of a dog may feel slighted.
And indeed this malign has another face to it. A face where the so-called oppressed in society can prick the somewhat stronger ones in any which way, but the ‘strong’ dare not say a word. So, Hindi films can show the ‘white man’ in any trashy way. Americans are often portrayed as ignorant people, obsessed with sex, with no regard to a family life. However, any slight mischief on the other party’s part, and up goes the media, ‘racism’. Poor little Shilpa Shetty can’t protect herself from the slurs against
her!
At the end of the day, I concede that at the ground level, the ‘oppressed’ actually have a point. Casteism is still rampant in India, with the lower castes often having to feed on scraps. Exploitation still continues. And the condition of women at a ground level is often deplorable. However, these wrongs are being taken up as excuses by certain groups of people. A man accidentally born into a Brahmin family can thus never call himself so, but a person who happens to be a…..can always be proud of his ‘roots’. In an educated, intelligent assembly, invariably the topic has to switch to how weak the weak are. An objective view is thus never possible these days where all sides are taken into consideration. Subalternism rules!
So, perhaps a clinging to one’s own roots may not be too bad after all. After all, it isn’t an individual’s fault, when the whole society clings to a ‘wrong’.

Last Man Standing

The year 2007 brings to us a number of anniversaries. It is exactly 400 years since the foundation of the first British colony in the New World, Virginia named after Queen Elizabeth I, with its capital at Jamestown, named after her cousin James I. It is 300 years since the Union between England and Scotland. And, it is 300 years since the last indigenous King ruled North India, like a true monarch. On March 3, 1707, Aurangzeb, the son of Shah Jehan and Mumtaz Mahal, slid into the final throes of life unto death itself, leaving the entire subcontinent open to foreign domination. And now that it is 300 years, we look back at the legacy the last Great Mughal left on our lives.
Born on November 3rd, 1618, when Shah Jehan was governor of the south in Dahod, Maharashtra, Aurangzeb was a somewhat sickly child. He hardly possessed any of the martial qualities which had been endowed in his family for generations. However, he possessed a cunning which would go onto serve him extremely well later in life.
Aurangzeb was comparatively dour and dispassionate. He was the complete anti-thesis of his visionary father, who was dreamer first and a romantic at heart. The father was much more inclined to the brilliant scholar that Dara Shikoh, the eldest son was. In fact Dara was the best scholar that this branch of Temur’s clan produced. Dara was liberal, Aurangzeb was orthodox. In fact the latter was extremely pious in many ways and followed the Quran to the hilt. It had its advantages, but proved more to be a calamity for the nation which he ruled, where the vast majority of the population was Hindu, as far as religious affiliation is concerned. Unlike some of his forebears who led lives full of women, and alcohol, he completely abstained from alcohol and considered sex as only a regrettable necessity in life. He was also, somewhat kind to his courtiers, servants and soldiers, never reveling as an emperor with pomp and show. But, his biggest failing may well have been his imposition of the Jaziya or the Tax on non-Muslims. This and his other destructive elements completely undid all his otherwise mild mannered demeanour.
Aurangzeb has often been thought of as a great conqueror and military general who didn’t posses the nuances to rule by the pen. But that was hardly true. Yes, he ruled over an area of land greater in area than any previous Indian born emperor, but most of his military victories may simply be considered Pyrrhic. Victories where the winner lost as much as the vanquished. He led a campaign to unite the whole of India under the Mughal sword, where the primary target was the deep south. However, the south could never be tamed by Islamic armies in India the way the north was. Much is often said about the martial culture existing in the north. But it was the south where Aurangzeb’s army met defeat after defeat. The conditions were absolutely alien to the Pathans and Rajputs from the north. The army was in fact a gargantuan unit, too large and unmanageable, a far cry from Babur’s efficient compact unit. The units were boosted by numbers of camp followers, and servants. Each year, he kept losing about a 100,000 troops. It was a huge strain on the nation’s treasury. Towards the end of his reign, Aurangzeb had himself lost the plot, and the meaning of the ongoing war. He considered himself to be a sinner for having been the cause of so many deaths and for ruining the work of his family. The administration had broken up and corruption was rampant.
And yet, Aurangzeb remains one of the greatest emperors of India ever. He was the last true Indian to rule over this vast area for so long. And as long as he was there, the British could never rove their eyes towards the vast riches as means of conquest. India’s colonization by foreign powers was still a long way off.
And, so ultimately, on a March morning, he passed way and in the town of Khuldabad in Maharashtra remains his tomb. A quiet sepulcher, a far cry from the glorious jewel encrusted tombs of his fathers. Indeed, an austere end, for a man forever committed to simple living.

A Piece of My Heart!

Bill Shankly, the authoritarian patriarch of Liverpool Football Club, had once commented that football was more important than life and death. Perhaps that is true. For romantics like me, that’ll always be true. But even for the hard core pragmatists, of late two events have stirred, which have particularly touched my heart, and might as well, soften those of that camp.

Iraq mired in one of its severest political crisis ever, has risen from absolutely nowhere to reach the Finals of the so called, Asian Championships. The best national teams from all over Asia have gathered in their droves here. The traditional giants from the continent like The Korean Republic, Japan, Saudi Arabia and Iraq’s neighbours Iran along with newcomers Australia were expected to do battle, with the others merely making up the numbers. And Iraq, who would have thought, the players could hardly train, with the fear of a car bomb forever lurking near their bases. No other sport could have fuelled this possibility. Other sports are expensive, and most never arouse the community feeling which, this simple and beautiful team sport makes up.

Now we travel northwards to Spain where yet again Atletic Bilbao could ward off the threat of relegation and survive in the Premier Division. Super rich clubs like Barcelona and Real Madrid remain the only ones to have achieved this feat of forever being in the top flight of Spanish football. And while Real and Barca, have achieved this success through their huge power bases, their enormous wealth and government backing at least in the case of the former, Bilbao have achieved all this through their unique Canterra policy. To understand this, we first need to travel a little back in time. After Franco took over power in Spain in 1936, the language of Madrid, Castilliano was deemed the sole official language of the extremely diverse nation. The persecution of the Basques then went on headlong. Basque ethnic pride could no longer be openly displayed, so the Atletic Bilbao football club’s ground the historic San Mamez became the vent for this patriotism. And thus, the club only ever played Basques in the club’s team. No foreigner, not even a non-Basque Spaniard. In fact, some French Basques like Lizarazu have played for them, but no other Spaniards. Such sentiments can be understandable in an earlier age, but to think of the fact that the programme continues to be a success well into the 21st century tells us something about both he people and the sport. It is as I say such a common-man’s game, that passion alone over rides so often.

Tomorrow is I guess the day when Iraq plays the Asian finals against the Saudis. No offence to the boys from the Arabian Peninsula, but I will cheer all my heart out for Iraq. These men, their fathers and their sons, have suffered for so long, bombings, poverty, migration, that our sympathies reach out to them. And as for, the policy at Bilbao, I believe after the flirtations with near relegation over the last two seasons, perhaps the time for change may have come. Or has it? Is so called success, more important than regional pride? Answer lies with the readers. Tell me what you all think!

19th, July

19th of July. The date rings a million memories to me. The parties, the cakes, the food, and the jingles. Indeed, it is the day when 28 years ago, my sister was born into the planet. And this year, for the first time ever, she will be beyond my reach, in some other country, a separate continent, a different time-zone altogether.

The whole week has seen a huge abyss in my life. In previous years, the entire week preceding 19th, all of us would be exposed to Didi’s constant singing ‘Happy Birthday to Me’, which may not always be so pleasant. However, nothing of that this time around.

Sayantani Dasgupta has always been a very passionate character who pursues her dreams till the end. While many other women consider meekness a virtue, she has always been more than a handful for any person around. Brilliantly intellectual, she misses nothing around.

Didi has generally mellowed down over the years. Each step in her life has lead to a change. In school, she was fiery, someone who would break her pencil if things went wrong, or tear apart all the posters in her bedroom. She changed a bit in college, perhaps St. Stephen’s provided her a perfect platform to show herself, and those may well have been her happiest years. Then, as she went to JNU, a different life emerged to her. A more Pan-India culture proved to be a bit of a shock, and she got first hand information on grass roots politics in India. But the biggest change engulfed her as she went to work in Mohali. My sister who was previously obsessed with reading on Hitler, or Saddam Hussein, was now suddenly interested in dressing up in Salwars, and hearing Sufi Music. The girl got transformed to a woman. It was during her Mohali stay that she gifted me David Beckham’s autobiography for my 17th birthday.

The lady in question is also very loyal to her family. Always gets something for every one in the immediate clan, whenever she goes somewhere. And what’s more as she now heads to middle age, a new life is what she is experiencing. In America for the last one year (nearly), she has made deep inroads into American academic life. And I am just waiting for the day when she strides into her Ivy League classroom, to deliver her lecture on the Mahabharata, her life’s ambition.

Of Horses and Horsemen

Human history is full of highlights. Great men have done great deeds, which have resulted in other matters, which in turn have affected something. We tend to ignore the human element in most of it. Victory or defeat in wars is usually attributed to the top tiers, as if the generals themselves slew thousands of the ‘enemy’. It is the faceless millions throughout time, who have laid their lives, forever putting the cause ahead of themselves, who deserve accolades and plaques. Now, here I want to express my views on a unique animal, whose presence has altered human history in an unfathomable way. Indeed, let’s pay our tribute to the quadruped called horse.

It is incredible to think now, but horses almost didn’t make it. The modern animal had its beginnings in what is now North America. Fossils discovered show that North America was their stomping ground till well past the figure of 30,000 years ago when man first reached the continent. This led to an enormous struggle over the next millennia and over time, over-hunting meant that the horse was extinct in its homeland. Miraculously some survived the genocide and reached Eurasia and the rest is history.

A number of human races lay claim to the idea of being the first ones to tame horses. The Middle East says so about its own people, so do central Asians and others. Wherever it was done, it heralded the quicker evolution of history. Humans were now able to work much quicker. Much larger distances could be covered in a shorter time. Techniques of breeding horses were constantly devised, improved and re-interpreted. Imagine a world without horses! The Roman army could never have crossed its boundaries, and created their world empire. The Carthaginians could never have threatened Rome. Northern Europe may not have been colonized so quickly and indeed a lot more. No other animal could have quite substituted. Yes the donkey would have done some local work, but they never had the pace to run miles at a blistering pace. Neither do they possess the loyalty to a master so crucial to humans. Camels would still have done their work in Arabia and Central Asia, but never outside their own regions. Alexander’s men would never have reached India. And as a result of all this, human civilization would have halted, it would have been a very slow evolution between different ages.

It is ironic to say, but it is also true that to a large extent, wars have fostered the growth of human culture. For war and plunder, men have traveled afar (needless to say, on horseback), and come into contact with different groups of people. Thus science and technology have been exchanged, cultures have mixed and genealogies changed due to different wars. Without quick means of travel, different discoveries in different parts of the world could never have been exchanged between one another leading to the discovery of something else in turn. Maybe, we would still be in the Bronze Age in the 21st century without them!

Without horses the Turks would never have been able to secure Constantinople as back as 1453, thus Europe would not have ventured towards the New World back then. And so America’s discovery would have had to wait for many more centuries. The slave trade on Africa may also never have taken place, as the Eurasians wouldn’t have had the head start. A reason why Africa has remained backward over time, is not the people’s fault, but unlike Eurasia full of resources, Africa has never had tame-able animals. The Zebra and the Giraffe could never help humans in spite of their natural abilities, not because the black man wasn’t intelligent enough but because of the animal’s system which could never accept authority.

Ultimately, we need to ask ourselves this question, that is it humans who have tamed horses, or is it them who have tamed us? Without human help, the population of this animal would never have soared to such numbers as today. Their close relatives, Zebras, Gazelles, and Giraffe struggle for habitation, while horses are given full honour among humans. In religion, sport, military and transport, these have a haloed image.

Whether horses are our companions, or we for them will always be a matter of debate, but one thing is certain, human culture so rich presently, would not have anything resembling like wise without them. Thus, horses are here to stay forever in our life and culture.

Koffee With Karan

‘Koffee With Karan’, hosted once a week by renowned film maker Karan Johar, used to be one of my most hated programs on T.V. However my sister and mom had throughout taken to it, so often I would just stare in front of the T.V wondering where to run away. And being in the time slot of late evenings on Sundays, it usually clashed with some good football match that I wanted to see. However, lately I have developed an immunity for this thing, and would like to share some of my views on the participants, and the ineffable host.

Rakhee Sawant comes to the program in her usually unabashed sense, to make a point as quickly as possible. Karan Johar asks her, whether she had ever had artificial silicon-isation of her body, and her prompt reply is, “Kyon nahin? Jo Bhagwan nahin, de sakta, who doctor de sakta hain!” Common Man! Wah Wah!

Then there are the Kapoors- Randhir, Rishi, and Rajiv, who come one day. By the way I would like to introduce all to a little bit of family tit-bit. My father has a renowned dislike of much of this family’s filmy skills, and he has forever maintained that Randhir is the worst of the family, while Rishi is slightly better than the worst, whereas Rajiv would probably fit in as worse than worst. So, for us watching them in action, gave us a sense of Déjà vu. My mom being extremely fond of Rishi, always provided a firm stand to oppose dad. I personally found all three of them extremely amiable on the show. Randhir spoke well, Rishi even better, and Rajiv pampered by his brothers. They were quick to maintain that though they had forever been associated with their famous father, Raj, it was their mother who moreover shaped their personalities, being with them forever, while RK was busy with his industrious occupations. Of course, Neetu Singh who ultimately decided on Randhir Kapoor to win the all important coffee hamper.

Then there was Shahrukh Khan with Kajol and Rani Mukherjee as the ladies with him. I think in recent years, Shahrukh has been much maligned by the critics for his forever lover boy image. But I personally think that the nineties were a time, when the metro sexual man was in vogue. A man who could cry in public, a man who had little hair growth, and a man who was interested in women, pretty much in stark contrast in all measures as to the superstar of the previous generation, Amitabh Bachchan. Brawn as fashion, is probably repeating itself. True to his image, Shahrukh and Karan J molly cuddled each other through a painful hour, and in between the women kept laughing and squeaking at every opportunity. I have never liked Kajol’s abrasiveness, and on that particular day, I thought she had broken all her previous records. I could probably have counted all 32 permanent and an added 24 of her milk teeth that day.

And then there was Jaya Bachchan who came with Hema Malini. Although I have always been very fond of the latter, in her films, I just feel that perhaps her English is a bit too nasal. But jayaaaaaaa..uffff………She was her usual morose self, sad at the world, her host, partner, critics generally and probably most at herself. Must learn a few tips from her.

But then last of all I would like to mention, John Abraham and Bipasha Basu, who I thought gave us the best show of all. Very intelligent in their answers, and never frivolous, basic decency was maintained, and I never got embarrassed enough to leave the room. After all Bips is Bong! Personally I think Bipasha has had a very god impact on Hindi Cinema. Her entry has paved the way for other dusky skinned, dark eyed women to make their forays after decades of dominance by the fair skinned, pale eyed heroines mostly from north India.

And now, I am looking forward to the next show which plans to have the great Richard Gere. He may not particularly kiss anyway on this next week’s show, but he will surely cause a number of kisses directed at him throughout the evening from all over the land.

Ode To My Beloved


Her Face Can Launch A Thousand Ships
Her Sight Catches A Million Fires
Her Speech Gets Us All Numb
Lady Manchester United

Her Womb Creates New Life
Her Flowing Breasts Suckle Us
Her Attention Keeps Us Proud
Mother Manchester United

Christian, Heathen, Indian, Saracen
We All Die For Your Love
The Greatest Sight On Earth
O Goddess Manchester United

A Million Men Rise For You
O Make Me Your Personal Bodyguard
Or With Jealousy My Heart Sighs
O Manchester United