Over the past few months we’ve seen – what many effortlessly called a polarising, gruesome Election – Chowkidars Sticks, Tea-cups, Aircraft Fighters and Navy Ships being thrown about in gay abandon by so-called jobless liars, thieves, fascists, Hitlers, Dynasts, over the brave voters who seem to have calmly made up their minds very well and voted back the 52 inch-chested (the Chest of seats grew larger than anyone predicted) Narendra Modi as Prime Minister of India. While the North of India queued North – as far as choking Mount Everest – to support Modi, the South of India, riding a severe Hate-Modi Cyclone blown by the regional satraps, went deep South and hardly contributed to the expansion of the chest.

In Tamil Nadu, the Party of the Rising Sun which incidentally has a ‘forever rising son’ as its brand new Chief, capitalised on the Hate-Modi winds; he even briefly threw away his red-black border white dhoti and high collar white shirt, wore  Red T-Shirts and Black Pants and danced on the dirty streets to convince the voters that the Challenger, Pappu, can indeed become Prime Minister and learn new dance moves; more than he himself becoming a scorching hot Chief Minister-which should have been the primary goal.  Ultimately, for the Rising Sun Chief, it was a case of, ‘Operation Successful: but Patient died’. He won by convincingly pandering to narrow-mindedness and regional pride instead of looking at the big picture of India as a country where multiple cultures co-exist and thrive peacefully and where we should integrate this differentiation and move ahead with the strength of unity. Of course, if he does this kind of integration how would he keep alive his Tamil base?  The ‘Rising Son’ wears a Russian name and has a habit of tarring any Hindi words – on name boards – he comes across. Claims his Dad taught him the basics of rubbing. What about Russian? I guess, it’s more like English. Is Hindi more foreign than English and Russian? Ask any Tamilian and they will tell you about the misery they face when confronting someone speaking Hindi in the course of Business or even when dining-out in Chennai; or still more when they move outside the State riding on a Tamil tongue!

When I attended a Christian Wedding in Kollam, during the Elections, the father of the Groom simply and firmly said, ‘Modi will not return as Prime Minister’. He had the weight of religion behind him and navigational expertise in his domain: I was struck by the firm confidence, as if his God had made-up the minds of India and mysteriously told him so. I said, ‘I do’ believe that he will return as PM. Now, I have the last laugh! Meanwhile, he has decided that the Earth is not enough and has plans to land on the Moon and settle in faraway Mars.

Over the Election period, most of who I spoke to in the South – Tamil Nadu in particular – for some inexplicable reason wore a visible Hate-Modi mask. When I asked them why, many were unable to convincingly explain. Who is Modi? Where was he when Cyclone Gaja was ravaging Tamil Nadu?  Reminded me of Ayn Rand’s, ‘Who is John Galt?’ The motor of Jallikattu runs all over Tamil Nadu and fishermen find fewer letters about them being written to the Prime Minister, from a Chief Minister who out-witted the Rising Sun Chief in keeping his throne.

While all this was happening down South, in this epic Lok Sabha Election, including breaking Temple Scales by a Wordsmith – millions of blue blistering barnacles – Congress Member in God’s own Country; and a French bearded Son-in-law of a famous saffron-clad-Actor-cum-Party-Founder spewing the choicest venom on the Prime Minister, there was a silent pro-Modi Wave gathering storm in the North which many failed to detect, despite high-tech gadgetry; some got a whiff, but could not put a cigar to it!

In the East, a Bengal Tigress, wearing a permanent scowl caged herself to the Hate-Modi Group and when the Prime Minister called to enquire about a Cyclone that was knocking at her door, she refused to open and answer, saying she will talk to the ‘new’ Prime Minister. Well, sometimes the old becomes the new – Jai Sri Ram! Oh, Mother Kali!

In the Northern ravine-ridden Hindi heart-land, a fierce Woman with a permanent hand bag, almost an extension of her hand – even in the statues of her in the State, tried to put her Elephant on a bicycle and ride to Delhi – we know the results of such foolhardy daring, don’t we?

To cap it all, the scion- the Challenger, a dimpled Prince of the Royal Ruling Family of India -popularly called ‘Pappu’ had his hands full, mouthing a ton of lies on an imaginary sum of money finding its way to a real Business pocket, which just could not hold any at all, and required a nearby Brother to stitch-up and make it count. Pappu, along with every known Politician in the Opposition, thundered that Modi will not return, and on the sly found himself a safe seat in the South, to sit on, knowing that the Northern Amethi will kick him out – driven out by a gutsy lady, of the Modi clan, who fought tooth & nail, over a period of five years, to see this day. That was the first indication of a Modi Tsunami!

India’s own Games of Thrones, and ascending the Iron Throne in Delhi, was finally over, this season.

The  reasons for the Return of Modi will be analysed and dissected in times to come, but I think the reason why India voted for him is that this man means business and there is a certain trustworthy sincerity, honesty and bluntness in his style – like it or not, which tells us that he will make India a better place to live. Given his innings of the first five years, where some sound path-breaking changes such as the GST and Swachh Bharat Mission (among others) was introduced; besides showing that India has real muscle, he deserved another shot at the goal post.  India is tired and fed-up with the ordinary Politician who keeps showing us something that is not there – Modi can be felt and is a visible presence; wears his religion up his sleeve and has brought a sense of National Pride. Some say this is a New India, which went beyond caste, religion and regional vote-bank politics. Hope the South goes North soon and fuses into one seamless Country. The Lotus requires sunlight and water to thrive, grow and bloom; floating on the lake of a wonderful India.

 

 

 

 

 

Over the past weeks I’ve been visited by two modern-day Monks: one, an University Engineering batch mate, came riding on a borrowed motorcycle; and the other, a past Engineering Consultancy Job Colleague, came driving a newly minted Car having purchased it recently – after selling his version of a Ferrari. They hustled into Town, alone, in a span of two weeks between them.

The Motorcycle Monk was over fifty, bespectacled, balding-with a clean middle, guarded by short cropped border bushes; and the once lavish spread of beard of turning-white hair, was now shaved-off, brought down to display a clever lush Gandhi-moustache. We used to call him the Gandhi of our circle, due to the obvious looks, and spartan lifestyle – except the topless part. He was once a gone-far-beyond Computer Engineer and gave it all up under a Big-Brother-Is-Watching Syndrome.  He tries his best to keep away from the Google, Facebook… and other super-sleuth, beneath the surface social media automatic monitoring systems. He warns me about the state of Surveillance Capitalism we live in, and that a carefree, untagged world does not exist anymore.

He contributes, in whatever manner he can, to Non-Governmental Organisation work and maintains a low ground-level profile. Somebody needed a motorcycle  to be transported from Bengaluru – where Tamil Nadu Licence Plates are a horror – to Madurai and he grabbed the opportunity to discover more of himself on a solo ride and do a ‘motorcycle march’. Other than the mandatory Helmet, he arrived with nothing much of a riding gear, bending-off from the normal route, to see me at Attur. I had to give him the typical Indian style directions: go straight, turn left, then right, then straight, then right… and nevertheless dispatched my Manager to escort him to my Office. I was blessed, and treated him to a good vegetarian meal and some sparkling conversation. He thanked my mother-in-law for the wholesome delicious food (he said so)  and touched her feet to show respect. I saw him off after more than an hour – only after issuing another set of rumbling directions to curl him back on to the original route to Madurai.

The Car Monk, having studiously learnt the ‘Art of Living’, was on a mission to serve humanity the Ramakrishna and Vivekananda way; and was on a solo drive to touch the various Ramakrishna Mission Math Pins on his Google Maps, by which he sweared his way-finding and sense of ‘direction’.  I sent him my location on Whats App (and a detailed left, right, forward direction, which he completely ignored) and behold he was at my doorstep, arriving from Madurai.

When he entered my Office I introduced him to a pretty Customer – who was looking up to me- that the new entrant was a friend and previous Work Colleague. The Customer then gently reminded me that two weeks ago I did the same kind of introduction, of another friend. Same-same, but different; there’s a connection, I guess, in the small things. He sat on the cushioned chair like Swami Vivekananda – legs folded in the  standard meditation pose and I could see the stirrings of a predominantly black and white beard on his shining brow. He wore brown beaded strings on both wrists and similar beaded necklaces, which seemed to weigh down his neck; otherwise it was a blue jeans and a blue-checked shirt attire.  He was clutching a smartphone, which kept sending notifications every once in a while, which he ignored. He began his discourse and we talked about garment design and fabrics and then transcended into sensible eating and healthy living. His wife, a learned and decorated Doctor of Nutrition – a Wellness Coach, had put him and the family on a natural path of saving Humans and the Planet, besides educating the World on how to live better by swallowing the right kind of food. He declared that his grown-up healthy sons (he showed a photo of a pair of beaming muscular boys) have to this day not drunk any kind of milk other than the original mother’s milk. His normal diet consists of a careful mixture of fruits -wet and dry- in the morning; followed by vegetable salad for lunch and a small helping of non-white rice  and vegetables for dinner. Snacking and oil-fried food was a strict no-no, as were most ‘white’ foods.

I lead him to the Dining Table for Lunch, and when I introduced him to my mother-in-law. He touched her feet in reverence: when I did I last do this kind of a thing? That’s a faded memory. We keep the conversation going over a simple vegetarian meal which we washed down with ease. I had the oil-fried appalam repaired with a direct-fire cooked one and we talked about how it tasted so different.

On the way out I, by habit, told him again about the left, right, centre directions to Salem Ramakrishna Ashram, to which he cooly said, GK I ain’t listening and do not intend to, my Google Map directions will take me there. It did!

Once the breeze of Monks had moved to less-greener pastures, I reflected on the emissions generated by them. I found myself wary of revealing too much on social media and started looking at food in an Adam-Eve sort of way. Apples, oranges and green organic vegetables danced in my dreams – away from the glare of Big Brother. Period!

Last but not least: I had written this Article a few weeks ago and was looking for an opportune moment to publish, when the Indian Air Force Balakot Air Strikes happened and another friend, an Army Major, native of a village near Attur, walked-in, even while I was trying to grow my spiral Abinandhan moustache. We spent the next one hour talking about heart-full meditation, talking trees and how we can live better lives. That’s Monk number three… and he too came alone, riding a car and this time there wasn’t that pretty Customer around!

Have a mindful meditative weekend ahead!

In the region where I live, I’m surrounded by tens of thousands of square-metres of Wedding Halls – Kalyana Mandapams, of various hardware facilities and operating systems. Basically, all have two main functional areas: the Main Wedding Hall, were the religious-or otherwise, marriage ceremonies actually take place; and a Dining Hall where guests are treated to a mind-boggling array of sweets, savouries and the best of foods of the season.

While the Wedding Hall is decked-up to be a visual feast, to exercise the eyes, the Dining Hall tests the limits of the taste buds and the digestive powers of the stomach. The Main Hall decorations are theme-based and Professional Adorners or Wedding Planners are often called-in to work on a concept so that the awfully well-dressed guests themselves adorn and complement the beauty of the venue, making it a memorable photo-opportunity. Guests move around coyly greeting each other; and there are chairs, invariably the hard plastic kind, where you can sit back and the survey the ‘Wedding fashion cat-walk’. Many guests must have spent months ‘planning their red-carpet entrance’ and the layers of cloth, the metres of silk saris with matching bejewelled blouses (a small area of great intricate work) speak their own language. Sometimes, you can catch a girl so beautifully dressed that you wonder whether she is the Bride (or a would-be Bride, drawing attention with come-hither looks), or charmingly trying to steal the Bride’s Day. Whatever, many a heart skips many a beat!

The Dining Hall, by the standards of the Main Hall is a dreary room with never-ending lines of tables and chairs, and seriously-uniformed Attenders running around in file-formation, like food-carrying ants, loading the banana-leaf plate, neatly laid on a paper table-spread, and ‘first sprinkled with holy water’ before applying weight. When one comes down to sit for the meal, one is baffled by the network of rows and columns of rainbow coloured food on display, guarded by the mandatory towering water bottle…and a courteous Attender waiting to serve more! Most take a quick little peck off each item, neatly fold the leaf (remember, always in your direction – as a sign of satisfaction) and quit to make merry at the open Food-Court where ice-creams, fruit salads, coffee, tea and the kind are in full flow, and thronged by the After-Main-Course-Food-Eaters. Lotus-Eaters?

One of the best scenes of the Wedding Halls, is the long queues lined-up to greet the Just-Married Couple, on stage, sit-in for the photo-moment and make Kings of the photographers who command the proceedings. I often wish the couple get down from their high perch and mingle with the guests in the Wedding Hall, leaving the stage to the Musicians and Photographers, to fill the voids.

The only conversation that I can recall, and rings often, after leaving a Wedding Venue, is the host, with folded hands, sheepishly asking, ‘Have you eaten?’ God bless the couple!

While all this is happening in the neighbourhood, I can hardly find a place to play a Wimbledon Tennis game, kick a World Cup Football, basket a ball, do an Usain Bolt dash, or prepare to run a Kenyan marathon. Why cannot we build as many Indoor and Outdoor Stadiums and Play Grounds as there are Kalyana Mandapams? When children come home for the holidays, there’s hardly a place for them to play, resulting in them getting betrothed to the mobile screens, wedded to smart phones and flirting with mobile-app games. We have pushed them to that level, haven’t we? When I get a chance to talk with these kids, I find that many are into some kind of a physical game, which is encouraging, but they struggle to ‘find a match’ to exercise their interests or kindle their playing passions. No wonder India fails to find and send awesome talent to the Olympics, despite millions lurking in the shadows (and perhaps enjoying a hearty meal in a Kalyana Mandapam)

Maybe, we could organize a Wedding as a Cricket Game with the Groom trying to bowl-over the Bride while the Bride’s Father keeps wickets, the Groom’s Father doing the Umpiring, and immediate relatives spread on the field, while the guests watch. They can mingle over field drinks and after the tiring game, create enough inner-space for a filling gorgeous Lunch or Dinner. Maybe the Couple can be dressed in tennis gear and play a love-game of Tennis about the nets with appropriately-dressed guests swaying their heads as the game unfolds! Maybe the Stadium itself can be turned into an Open-Air Kalyana Mandapam with the stage erected in the middle and the Guests watching and cheering from all sides. Gladiator Weddings?

I beguiles me that while we create so much facilities for people to get married we fail to think about the kids they will be producing, in the long run. Play they must, on the open grounds and fields, build up reserves of strength and energy to run and play the game of life, before they themselves head to the nearest Kalyana Mandapam!

I’ve deeply resolved that when I get the chance and wherewithal I shall get involved in creating a Play Stadium for the young chaps, as well as the old guys (to walk their tired legs), in my locality! Hope, you do too!

 

 

 

 

 

Over the past weeks we’ve been bewitched by stunning visuals of the World’s now Tallest Statue – Unity, built taller than Liberty; and the Celebrity Weddings of Actors Deepika Padukone – Ranveer Singh, and Actor Priyanka Chopra – Musician Nick Jones. While the Indian-made couple chose to wed across foreign shores – in Italy, the foreign-going Baywatch and Quantico Star nicked precious space in India. The Wedding dresses ensemble put together over tens of thousands of man-hours could dress-up more than Lady Liberty and Sardar Unity (Lord Ram – when he does arrive on the scene in Ayodhya – doesn’t need them at all). Here’s wishing that the Stars stay united for years to come, else they are at liberty to request the services of Sardar Patel – again, coming down from his statue, to stay united.

Talking about Statues, I quote a recent Twitter tweet from Harsh Goenka, Chairman of RPG Enterprises, that I liked, “Indians when in Paris: Look at Eiffel Tower. Why can’t we build such structures? Indians when in New York: Look at the Empire State Building. Why can’t we build such structures? Indians when in India: Look at Patel’s Statue. Why can’t we build a hospital or school instead!” We cannot level everything in this World with one big scale, can we? I read an article where someone argued, ‘Can we eat statues?’. Well, we can’t eat Movies, Music, Wedding Dresses…yet, they have a purpose, I’m sure!

Event before these Stars started throwing their light, we were enthralled by NASA’s robotic InSight carefully landing on the Red Planet and settling down to a live-in relationship with Mars, at least for the next two years. InSight was dressed for the occasion and it was a delight to see it spread its solar panel ‘train of wings’ and soak in the energy of the Sun. We are still waiting for the Official Wedding Album to be released. Will there be many Receptions (Mumbai, Delhi)? Many ‘eight-minutes’ of Time Distance will tell!

Romance – in every dimension, is definitely in the air despite Nature blowing cold through Cyclones and Hurricanes.

While the star and moon-struck kind succeeded in their missions, an American who was bewitched by Jesus and Christianity took it all too seriously, stripping down to the bare essentials to try to hook one of the World’s most enigmatic, particularly vulnerable Tribes – the Andaman Sentinelese, to the Bible. They took him down with their primitive bow & arrow and left him dead on the beach – Jesus calling. The Sentinelese have lived isolated from the outside World for almost 60,000 years living the ancient hunter-gatherer life and have strongly resisted all attempts to bring them in to the mainstream of our kind of civilization. India has decided to let them be; and it’s a line no one is allowed to cross, which ought to be respected.

Meanwhile, in India, Ornithologists reported sighting the rare, shy Ortolan Bunting – a pale-yellow throated Bird – whose breeding range stretches from Spain to Mongolia, and migrates to Africa (Ethiopia and Uganda) via the Middle East, for the winter. It is a monogamous (the newly-married Stars should look here) bird laying and incubating eggs in a ground level nest built jointly with its partner, who stands guard over the nest. The migration of birds is a fascinating subject and maybe our Stars are also doing their own bit of migration – to warmer nests, across continents, to lay their eggs and propagate the Human species. That’s evolution happening right in front of our eyes!

Our eyes are having the sight of our lives, with so much to see; and girls may finally rest theirs on British heart-throb Actor Idris Elba – being voted the Sexiest Man alive. He is a celebrated Deejay, Producer, Songwriter, Rapper, Percussionist, and Vocalist, besides being awfully handsome. We may know him from his portrayal of Norse God and Asgardian Gatekeeper Heimdall in Marvel’s (Comics) Thor franchise. He has a 16-year old daughter and a 4-year old son – from previous marriages – and is now in a relationship with a Model to whom he proposed in February this year. That’s another sexy Wedding coming up, for sure!

While we near the end of the year, this December 2018, we think about cozying up in our woolens, around some fire-place, and curling around loved ones at home, to ruminate the year gone by and think plans for the year ahead. Reminds me of a species of Spiders that suckles its young and takes care of them so well that the young fellas just do not want to leave home. The mother spider deposits a milk-like fluid around the nest for the hatchlings to drink until they are about 40 days old, after which she suckles them directly; and we thought that only mammals breast-feed their young! Scientists have discovered that this milk contains four times the proteins found in cow’s milk. I’m all for drinking spider’s milk in the year(s) ahead.

I’ve not finished with the Spider story, yet: when the Spiderlings become sexually active adult spiders, they return home for more milk (the taste lingers on and is a big draw, I guess) from Mom, but are driven out as Mom is onto the next round of production and is careful to segregate brothers from sisters. Brothers and sisters cannot marry, even in Spider World. Wonder, whether Stan Lee thought about all this when he passed away to the Heavens above leaving us with Spider-Man, Iron-Man… and the kind, to marvel about! May be, he spinned the web of his stories on the secret strength of Spider’s Milk. Let’s drink to that!

Have a wonderful end-of-the-year time! Life can be bewitching!

In the good old Transistor Radio and pre-Television days of the ancient 1970’s and slowly developing 1980’s in Tamil Nadu, India, most of us got to read a few English newspapers and many local vernacular newspapers and magazines. My favourite was The Indian Express, which printed spicy news and reported boldly and courageously, vis-à-vis The Hindu, which was serious, business-tight, had many Tender Notices, and perhaps better job advertisements. Each attracted its kind of die-hard followers!

I recall many used to buy The Hindu only because it fetched a good resale value and could be cleverly re-used. The Old Newspaper-Wallahs treated it with great respect – gave a higher price per kilogram, for the thick (good quality – in their opinion) ‘old papers’ and it was ideal for lining the many shelves and cupboards of our homes and offices, besides packing street-food, and near about anything. I didn’t fall for it though, except for a brief period when I was just out of College and was hunting for a job. I remember one of my Aunts using the neatly folded Hindu Newspaper on the inside racks of her first ever purchased new Voltas Refrigerator. That’s awfully cool!

While the articles in The Indian Express were well-written, investigative, with lots of action verbs, some humour, and attracted one much like a scantly-clad Bollywood Actress, that in The Hindu was awfully staid and a drag to read, much like a Kollywood Villain. A newspaper being a one-day affair it should only be that – ran my argument in favour of The Indian Express.

While in Boarding School, with the King & Queen of England breathing down my neck to master the English Language, during the holidays I forayed into reading local Tamil Magazine-Newspapers. This was mainly due to another Aunt – the elder sister of the Refrigerator Newspaper Aunt – who pushed me into reading the then famous weekly ‘Kumudam’ and ‘Kalkandu’, which she bought as a ‘Laurel & Hardy’ Package. Both were about the same dimensions, with Kalkandu being very slim and Kumudam being reasonably fat. While the former, written and edited by Writer Tamilvanan, was a superb read carrying the modern-day Twitter like information factoids, and a detective story on the global adventures of Shankarlal – the Indian version of a Sherlock Homes and James Bond mash – the latter carried lots of gossip and serial stories. I especially devoured the King & Queen historical fiction stories penned by then popular Writer Chandilyan in Kumudam. Both the Aunts mentioned here, had a brother who was also a serial reader and he used to pluck out the Chandilyan stories from the weekly Kumudam and bind them into a home grown novel! After all that reading, my Tamil surely improved, royally, and I scored top marks in the Board Exams!

Later, on becoming more learned and well read, I advanced to reading fortnightly magazines and the one that I fell in love with – on first read, was the India Today! Of course, I had earlier experimented with the then famous Khushwant Singh edited The Illustrated Weekly of India – with its rather odd size – which I read for the wild pictures and the sexy Axa comic ‘strip’ hidden inside; and the very colourful Frontline, with its stunning photos; and the Sports Week; and the Sport Star. I went on to subscribe to India Today and became a dedicated reader, but held on to The Indian Express for the daily grind!

Growing into the late 1980’s and early 1990’s with, by now, a well-grown Novel reading habit, along with the Newspaper and Magazine interests, I went international buying into The Newsweek…at the cost of TIME. Being a weekly issue and costing quite a sum, I teamed-up with a like-minded friend, at my workplace, to share the price and the joys! We read it cover to cover and discussed the many things it uncovered! Meanwhile, I still kept The Indian Express and India Today with me and flirted with borrowed Debonair and Playboy on the sly!

By the mid 1990’s and early 2000’s, Television was a full-blown sensation in India and News Channels were talking and showing more easily, what we were struggling to read and see. I quit magazine subscription buying selectively on a wider looser range, rather than by order and dedication. Career and job progression took me further North of India and away from The Indian Express. It got gunned-down after the Bofors Scandal, and despite desperate attempts I could not hold on, and strayed to other papers: Deccan Chronicle while working in Hyderabad, the Telegraph while in Jamshedpur, and The Times of India (TOI), while working in Mumbai, filled-in the voids.

Thanks to the TOI power in Mumbai it infected me; and I got wedded to it (though I consider it quite ‘yellow’ at times!) while at Gurgaon – carrying with me the TOI Mumbai effect. But once a reader always a reader, and while engaged in renovating New Delhi’s Airport Terminal-2, a colleague handed over a few old copies of The Economist for a ‘must read’…and ‘must return’, please. Well, my idea of The Economist, without even looking at it, sprang from deeply ingrained views of The Hindu as one of the hard reading types!

It took me only a few articles to realise that The Economist was in a class of its own and remain hooked to it, to this day! The Authors are not mentioned, every article was wonderfully written with cheeky well-dispersed humour, it had terrific headline captioning and was a pleasure to read. There was no looking back and I got myself into the hard Newspaper (The Economist calls itself a Newspaper) subscription mode again.

With the spread of the internet, and Google News become easily affordable – bringing news headlines from all Newspapers onto one page, I started dropping-off the hard Newspaper Grid: to begin with, the weekly (including The Economist) and then the fortnightly ones (including India Today).

The growth of social-media of Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, Pinterest, and smart mobile friendly Flipboard, Inshorts… and the kind, further sounded the death-knell to my hard magazine reading. Now I use my iPhone, and MacBook Pro more for reading (and listening) than speaking.

However, I still persist with the daily hard-paper Newspaper, and the TOI brings in its brand of news every day, sliding in through the doorway, which I resell it for ‘The Hindu’ rates; but, only after convincing the Old Newspaper-Wallah that it weighs as good!

Over the past weeks we’ve been more than touched by Nature at its untamed, fully-dressed best: from Hurricane Florence to Super-Typhoon Mangkhut; and we thought that with the Tsunamis, our learning was over. Hold on, there’s a ‘Storm’y Daniels ‘coming’ blowing hot and cold over ‘One US Resident’ in the White House. A tell-tale book is spilling more than we can imagine! I reckon this storm can do what the other ‘super blowers’ – the Nature Winds – could not!

While Storms, hurricanes and Typhoons raged and blew many people off the face of the Earth, the World is still wondering what happened to Chinese movie superstar, Fan BingBing, arguably China’s most famous Actress. Fans tried ‘Bing’ and ‘Google’, with zero results in nano seconds, on her whereabouts. Yes, she acted in Iron Man and X-Men; and perhaps she needs to become an Iron Woman to get out from wherever she’s hiding or is being held, before she becomes a X, Y, Z Woman; will she? While stories of messing with China’s Tax System is doing the rounds, my guess is that she’s probably having a baby of a time – why not? It’s over three months now and the results may show up any moment – unless she’s talking to the King of Good Times, Vijay Mallya, on Tax Heavens and a Kingfisher Model shoot, in a London hideout!

We cannot finish talking about storms and earth sliding floods without thinking about what the rains did to Kerala in India and how scores of its fisherman became ‘flash’ heroes, fishing-out men, women and children from the deadly flood waters, to see them live another day – for sure, none know the waters better than them! Even while the waters were receding and the Fishermen returned to real fishing, the Devil had another ace up his sleeve: the Bishop Franco Mulakkal rape story broke the skies and added to the growing accusations of the Church turning a blind eye to the storms of sexual molestation, World over. The unbelievable stories blew out from US, UK, Germany and many other Countries at cyclonic speeds; and the Pope is praying harder than ever to see how much has been swept under the carpet before the winds blow it (the carpet) away. I hope God hears his thundering prayers – and the confessions, if any! I wish those accused have the courage to open-up with the truth; I always believe than more than sermonising and preaching, religion should be practiced and high-level people should set an example – that’s the easiest to ‘like and follow’.

By now the rains have dried up and its smoking hot again in many parts of the World – the Sun is the new Storm, doing the rounds. Tennis star Roger Federer blamed the heat of Flushing Meadows getting to him to leave the US Open. The heat probably hit Serena Williams too, and she suddenly discovered she was a woman – that’s real cool; accusing the Strict Umpire of being sexist and losing to the same-sex opponent, a first from Japan-Naomi Osaka becoming the first person from Japan to win a Grand Slam Title and she played so well that she deserved to win. Never mind a return-to-play-after-giving-birth ageing superstar stole her nappies. I wish Serena had ‘held her court’ and set an example by exemplary behaviour rather than throw a Woman Tantrum, #YouToo.

Nearer Home, caste storms are gathering everywhere, and it’s in murdering form. In Hyderabad, the shocking killing of a man in front of his higher caste wife, who he married – jumping caste rungs, turned the girl’s father into a monster who placed prestige and caste considerations above love for his daughter’s love, and allegedly had the man murdered. Then there’s the story of another father in the neighbourhood of Hyderabad, again, hacking off his daughter’s hand in a drunken stupor, over the same issue. I would delve into the Bhagavad Gita, where Lord Krishna clearly explains that the so called caste divisions are not permanent structures but based on one’s inner chemical nature: somewhere down the line someone built physical walls and made them permanent, which has to be resisted and broken down. The father’s behaviour shows he is worser that the lowest caste ever, with such horrific thinking. I often wonder why the Gita is not read and understood by the younger generation rather, then when one grows old, so that it can be applied over a longer period. It’s time we grow-up shedding our caste clothes and wearing our thoughts high. There’s so much to do and we are no longer the unthinking animals we once descended from. We are Homo Sapiens – the wise ones.

That brings me to Dr. Yuval Noah Harari’s beautifully crafted sublime book, ‘Sapiens A Brief History of Humankind’, which I just finished reading…and am re-reading. It’s a thrilling account of our extraordinary journey from from insignificant Apes to Rulers and Masters of the World. Read it to understand our biology and chemistry and you may not hesitate to marry our closest relatives, siblings – ‘the very low caste’, chimpanzees; beware the ‘Fathers (the Mothers too may join) of Hyderabad’ may pounce for the kill – for marrying ‘Out of Species’.

While the women of India are having quite a tough time there are stories of inspirational, exceptional, courageous acts by many of them. The story of a Bhopal man’s thirty-three gruesome murders caught my eye – one of the highest in Indian History, of this kind of crime. This man was a Tailor by day and a murderer by night. He started his kill Act in 2010 in Amravati, then tested it in Nasik. He was arrested after a ferocious across-States search, by a daring woman cop, in the jungles of Sultanpur, Uttar Pradesh. She was a Taekwondo black belt and a Asian Games Bronze Medalist in Judo and took down the murderer at gun point, in the dead of the night. That made my day. We are safe at Home, notwithstanding the many storms swirling around us!

Have a great week ahead and stay watchful.

 

 

Over the past days and weeks, this August 2018, we have seen the passing away of many famous people in the realm of politics, literature, music, sport, and journalism. The line-up included, an always dark-spectacles-wearing Politician, M. Karunanithi, in Tamil Nadu – wore it in his final fight to his grave on the Marina Beach as well; Literature Nobel winner V. S. Naipaul – A House for him, and Mr. Biswas, in Heaven for sure; Singer Aretha Franklin – the Queen of Soul goes up. I Say A Little Prayer out of Respect for her; former Prime Minister of India, Bharat Ratna Atal Bihari Vajpayee – this time, his long pause was for good; former United Nations Secretary General and Nobel Peace Winner Ghanian Kofi Annan – goes over to globalise Heaven against the laws of gravity; former Indian Cricket Captain Ajit Wadekar – clean bowled this time, Summer of 42 left behind; veteran Journalist Kuldip Nayar – he retold the Emergency and has now gone Beyond the Lines …the list goes on.

Three Indians in the above list crossed 90 years of life on Earth and perhaps they are sterling lessons of longevity in India!

August 2018 has been treacherous for lives on Earth, with the good God calling back his best creations – perhaps to neatly file them in his Heavenly Archives. He also rolled out a devastating carpet of rain – in his own Country of Kerala; torched fires in the USA, launched earth-quakes in Indonesia…and the kind. Maybe, God wants to remind us who’s the Big Boss in our House on Earth?

While God attacked us on Earth, we decided to take the fight to the Heavens: NASA launched the Parker Solar Probe to dare ‘touch the Sun’ and hopefully comeback with blowing hot and cool stories to tell. While NASA was in such solar glare, India’s ISRO got a clean knock on its head with the Prime Minister of India – speaking on Independence Day – setting a goal of independently putting a Man on the Moon by 2022. I’m sure, when that happens we’ll find a Man from Kerala – having escaped the deluge, selling Ice-Tea on the Moon, using the ice that’s just been discovered. Moon-walking may become the order of the day, soon, with or with-out James Bond!

While NASA was doing what it does best, an air-side ground staff man in Seattle’s Airport quietly ran away with an empty Aircraft parked on the run-way: flew it and crash-landed to death, after having enough of the air of life. I think it’s time Pilots lock the Cockpit doors, like we do our cars, while they are parked; if not they are asking for trouble. Airport Security now have another angle to probe, and more doors to frisk! This maybe out of boundary for the upcoming US Space Force, created by its trumping President, but space in Space is being challenged.

There are so many things happening upside down these days that I could not but wonder – as the BBC reported- at Daniel Mirera, a Kenyan Student who has been writing upside-down since he was a child. Well, he also reads upside down too – turns a book on its head and races off to read effortlessly. He has been doing this normally and consistently as the upside-down thing came naturally to him. He has persisted, despite being endlessly teased on whether one’s legs can be found on top of the body or the hands growing at the bottom. I’m sure he must be having a better perspective of this complex world of ours; and they say he is a very bright student.

Meanwhile, across India’s Western Border, a Cricket World Cup Winning Captain becomes its Prime Minister after a long innings of over twenty years in politics, and some ‘deadly umpiring’ by the Pakistan Army during the talibanzied Elections. That’s an incredible journey indeed! Photos showed him glowing with an openly dressed modern ‘gold smith’ first wife; a partially covered TV-anchoring second; and a fully covered, spiritually-guiding conservative third. Now, there’s no guessing in which direction he is headed – with those playboy looks, and acquired captaincy skills. India can expect majestic reverse swings on the Kashmir issue and we need to pad-up to loft them over with hefty helicopter-shot sixes. Imran Khan would require more than the guidance of spirits; some ‘uneven turban-wearing hugs’ might help lubricate the journey to a possible stardom. Lets ‘place our bats’ on that!

With the progress of human civilization, we have moved from living in the open-under the wide sky, to trees, caves, thatched and mud huts, brick & mortar houses to modern Reinforced Cement Concrete (RCC) Structures and multi-storey High Rise Buildings. Recently, an RCC Highway Bridge collapsed in Northern Italy, killing people driving on it, who must have though that they were surely safe on a structure with a life of over 100 years. Engineers build lots of safety factors into these structures, but the elements of Nature, stress and corrosion have a way of getting into the steel – as if to test if it is from Superman’s Krypton, and in the process settle down to make it their permanent home. While some suggest that we may have to shorten the long lives of the RCC makes– we gave them that in the first place- I think we should challenge ourselves to invent new materials and dupe Nature into thinking that they are its own. For a start, I imagine a toughened Graphene RCC bridge!

Maybe, we should go back to the great Opens; the French have hit this seam, and recently Paris has installed open-air urinals, which has raised quite a stench of criticism. Did they get this refurbished idea from India – now that we are slowly doing ‘the one & two job’ from the wild outdoors to the safe indoors? Lots of Work to do in these spaces!

The 18th Asian Games-2018 now playing in Indonesia, showed the real ‘India shining’ through. A young sweet-sixteen-year-old Saurabh Chaudhary shot Gold in the 10m Air Pistol on a superb debut, and Vinesh Phogat became the first woman wrestler to win an Asian Games Gold even as Bajrang Punia wrestled a Gold – dedicating it to the passed Vajpayee. The story and fame of the Phogat Sisters continues to spread and make headlines, going beyond the movie Dangal, as a real–life sequel!

We live in a wonderful World: so much happening all the time. Are we doing our best to hold it together? We must!

Let the games of life and the music play on! Have a safe weekend

Over the past days and weeks we’ve seen a couple of Celebrity Players on the World Stage throw in their hands, and their towels: Hand-Bag Fashion Designer Kate Spade, and gifted Chef, Writer and CNN Storyteller Anthony Bourdain committed suicide – for ‘confidential reasons’, and ‘parts unknown’. In our own neighbourhood, the Newspapers cry sad stories of students taking the extreme step, over failure to pass the National Eligibility Cum Entrance Test (NEET) or simply an Exam, in Life; or a Farmer rooting out his life being unable to shoot-up his crops; or a Business man poisoning himself and his family to escape the burden of debt – rather than the wealth he hoped to create.

Perhaps, we do not know much about many of them, until the stories break out, but they affect us in a profound way, don’t they? During the vicissitudes of our lives we encounter hills, and mountains of challenges – some, which we climb and conquer; others, we tunnel through; and yet others, we simply change course and move on. If we are unable to do any of these, in a brief bizarre moment of extreme decision-making we give a very hard look at ourselves and say, ‘goodbye’. Many say it’s a cowardly act; some say, it requires courage; the law once said it was a crime (maybe still so in may countries)- India has recently decriminalised the attempt to commit suicide.

Whatever, it’s now become perfectly all right to speak out about depression and poor inside chemistry, despite a seemingly normal handsome physical appearance. Actor Deepika Padukone did it, to wide acclaim. I think we must do this more often, as depression and dying – to get away from it all, happens in all walks of life, across the high and low, and the mighty. It spares none. Everywhere, there is a dearth of real rock solid conversation and earthy hand-holding connection. Anthony Bourdain spoke well, to all of us through his cooking and travels; Kate Spade did the same through her Hand Bags – I recall she created six types of hand bags she though every working women should have. I read a tweet about Chelsea Clinton – Bill & Hillary Clinton’s Daughter, still holding a Kate Spade Hand Bag, gifted to her, years ago. I read about former US President Barack Obama having cheap but delicious noodles and cold Hanoi beer with Anthony Bourdain in Vietnam, sitting on a low plastic stool ruminating about the ability of food to bring people together. After all that talking, there is still something that they could not get out in the open – which probably took their lives! Being a Creator and an Innovator in one’s field of work must be an awfully lonely job: beyond the flash lights, the fame and the money there is a quiet dark world, where the demons of the mind play havoc; against which we have no weapons. But there is hope: we should go back to the drawing-board and come out ways to get the conversations back in our lives; throw away the plastic, sit on the stone floor, drink plain spring water, and start again – from stone age.

Meanwhile, Reality Star Kim Kardashian West wings into the White House dressed in tip-to-toe black, with a mane of loose black hair, to bring the lights into the dark lives of prisoners serving huge sentences in jail; one of them being her grandma serving over twenty years in jail, with growing-white hair. A Donald Trump Presidential pardon gets her out, dancing; and he then goes overdrive into a pardoning spree, a far as even trying to punch the late Muhammad Ali, with a pardon, which has no meaning at this stage of the fight. Could this be the brick-work for things to come; culminating in a Self-Pardon for wrongs done? Time will tell.

Sticking on with the theme of pardon, while negotiating the stiff and dangerous curves of life should we not get-off the circuit, look from above and pardon ourselves? Why wait for a God to do it, at the very end? Should not we move on?

I leave you with the following quote of Anthony Bourdain, which lingers in my mind, “If, I’m an advocate for anything, it’s to move. As far as you can, as much as you can. Across the Ocean, or simply across the River. The extent to which you can walk in someone else’s shoes or at least eat their food, it’s a plus for everybody. Open your mind, get off the couch, move”.

Well…move they did!

Have a great Week ahead.