Dear ManMohan...

(Image source)
http://cartoonistsatish.blogspot.com/2010/12/pm-manmohan-singhji-has-nothing-to-hide.html


Dear Man Mohan,

I was planning to call on you for a while but thought you may be busy at this moment. So shooting this note. I am sure you will find lots of time to read when ever you are through with current situation that you are in. Don't worry, as I always tell you always think like a Zen monk, when you face with a problem.

Of late I am troubled by some problems on my mind.
And I wonder, are you thinking what I am thinking ?
I think we are so alike, so our problems too may be similar

let me put it this way:

You are a citizen of India , I am also a citizen of India.

You are an honest man, I am an honest woman

I pay my taxes , you too pay your taxes.

You like economics, I too like your economics.

You are your doing your job honestly, I am also doing my job honestly.

You say I am not corrupt, I also say you are not corrupt.

You say you ignore those who are corrupt, I too do the same

You say corruption is the biggest cancer of this society, I too agree.

You say corruption has to go if India has to grow at9% GDP. I too believe that

corruptions has to go if we have to progress.

You are saying you are doing your best to bring a law to stop corruption in country ,

I too believe that a law is needed to bring corrupt to justice.

you say you are helpless at the moment becasue your cabinet does not agree with you.

I too beleive you are helpless becasue the party and cabinet is not with you on this matter.

You say Anna has made your life miserable. I do agree with you.

I say I Don't understand Anna, you too say do not understand him

I came to know about Anna only a year back. You too say you heard of him just a year

back.

I say Anna must be an honest man fighting an honest cause, you agree.

I say Anna has mass power behind him, You agree.

I say Anna says he wants to wipe out corruption and your government is corrupt, you You agree, only second part.

You say corruption can not be wiped out, I agree.

But you say Anna has made your life hell. I say I agree.

I say if I want corruption to end, you want corruption to end and Anna wants

corruption to end, so we all agree. You say yes.


See! we agree on most of the issues.

So what is the problem Man Mohan? we are so alike

Let me put a simple equation equation.

I am(like) Anna.
You are(like) Anna
so we are all Anna-s.

Correct?

WRONG!!

Let us not a make mistake here.

I am not Anna.
And so you are not.
We are not Annas
Anna is not Gandhi
Anna is not even India

ANNA IS JUST ANNA
in fact
TOGETHER WE MADE ANNA

Like British made Gandhi. Isn't your government and people like me created Anna?
Just imagine, if British had not exploited this country for centuries, Gandhi would not have thought of freedom movement. He would have happily practiced law. And if your government had not been so corrupt and people like me had not paid the bribes to your government, Anna would have lived happily in his one room in the temple in his village Ralegaon Siddhi.

Dear Manmohan are you thinking, what I am thinking?
Dear Manmohan,are you seeing, what I am seeing ?
Dear Manmohan are you fearing , what I fear ?

My mother's lesbian friend!

Last few days city of New York is celebrating the law passed by the NYC Governor to legalize gay and lesbian relationships. This piece of news has generated lot of debate in India. Should Mumbai or Delhi follow New York city in legalizing gay marriage? Most of the times such debates are so disappointing, since in India any talk on sexuality is so regressive and illogical proposition. So I am not going to concern myself what the Indian people think about this issue.

Personally I am happy what NYC has done and hope more cities would follow soon. I never could understand why all this brouhaha about being a gay or lesbians and same sex marriage? Gays and Lesbians have existed here much before there has been any debate in India. There are many records in ancient texts, which give you ample examples of gay and lesbian existence in Indian social life. In fact they are some rites which sanction marriage' among for gays and lesbian relations. In Tamil Nadu, Hizra ( kind of gay and lesbian community in India) marry lord Krishna to be his bride. So why are we making such a deal of gay and lesbian marriage in India?

Well, I knew of a lesbian couple even before I heard or comprehended the word gay or lesbian in its true sense. This blog is for her memory.

Let me introduce to my mom's friend. My mom had a lesbian friend. Of course I never knew she was lesbian for a long time. It was only when I had got to understand the term gay and lesbian and on a whim I had asked my mother "was Jeevan lesbian Amma?" My mom who was ailing of cancer then, had smiled weakly without saying anything.

Jeevan - means life. I have to use past tense becasue she died many many years ago, much before my mom passed away. She was tall may be 5 feet 6 inches, broad and hefty and rugged like a man. But that could be just my childish perception to associate feminine as dainty and delicate and masculine as rough and rugged. Or was this perception enhanced by the nick name my mom had given to her. She used to lovingly call her "Jeevan the Bheem"?

Jeevan would come visiting us quiet often. she was more like a family than a friend and often had access to every part of the house. I remember she would walk in and walk out of the house any odd time of the day and mostly she would come calling on my mom and they would sit in a room and talk hours together. As a kid I never understood what they were talking about. But their expressions would be very serious and often I used to hear my mom consoling her.

Nevertheless whenever she would come over, we children would have great time. She was not only funny; her exaggerated mannerisms added to her character. But all said and done she was a normal human being, treated like any other guests in the house. And as far as I remember she was never discriminated for her sexual orientation. Hence I never got to know she was a lesbian till I started reading about it in books magazines and news paper as a category of people other than heterosexuals.

Jeevan openly lived with her female partner. She had a permanent job at a local girl's convent school where she taught at secondary school level. I don't know how good her social life was becasue I was too young to understand the complexity of it. But I do not rememebr any one discriminating her for her sexual orientation. Elders generally remained hushed but never harassed her or socially castigated her or her partner in any obvious manner. Probably Jeevan had her own tales to tell which I could not have known as a child. But I guess she had accepted that any person who dares the social codes has to accept some form of scoff from society. It is price that you pay for being different and is applied to heterosexuals as well as homosexuals.

I could never understand the bonding between Jeevan and my mom. But they were very close friends. My mom never discussed anything about Jeevan or her life with us but I knew she had great sympathies for her and that made Jeevan all the more special for us.
When I asked my mom why you never told us that Jeevan was a lesbian? were you trying to hide her sexual orientation from us? She had a straight forward reply, " I knew someday you would discover about Jeevan's lesbian nature. But had I made you aware her lesbianism, you would always viewed her first as a lesbian than as a person. Gays and lesbians are people like me and you. There is nothing different to talk about".

I am not sure if her explanation was kind of covert defense for not discussing other sexual orientations or a brilliant strategy to respect gays and lesbians as human beings. For my child mind, message was delivered in a simple statement. Any kind of "other-ness" should never precede the person who or she is. It is the person and the human who comes first.


As I watch gays regaling in New York, my thoughts go out on Jeevan. How would she have reacted to such a news ?. Would legalization of relationship would have made any difference to her life? She did not hide her relationship but she never had a social sanction too.

Jeevan was the first lesbian I met in my life. I thank my mother, because she was Jeevan first, lesbian later! But more than that she was a dear friend of my mother!

M.F. Husain and Fame Monster

"M.F. Husain dies at 95"- declares one of the news channels announcing the death of India's premier contemporary artist. Ticker line below the live news feed, shows, quotes from various significant personalities reacting to this news. "Great loss to the Indian art". says Prime minister of India. "There can be no more Husain again, he is only one of his kind". says yet another celebrity artist.

As the news of Husain's death spreads, various voices of condolences pour in. Memories are recounted. And eulogies are being written. Very soon there would be official ceremonies where people from art world would recount how they remembered him. How important an artist he was to India and the world.

Obviously, I never knew him as a person. So I have no memories to recount here to suggest , how sad or shocked I am by the death of M F Husain. There is no doubt Hussein was the most famous contemporary artist of India, after Raja Ravi Verma, whom common man of India identify with the visual art of India.

I often wonder what Husain meant to me as an artist? and was he really the greatest artists of India? To briefly recount, Husain's trajectory as an artist: Maqbool Fida Husain was born in Pandharpur, Maharashtra India in 1915. He was one of the founder members of Progressive Artists Group(PAG) along with F. N. Souza who defined the story of contemporary Indian art and its direction. Husain was one of the few artists of India who held his exhibitions abroad and was invited in various international art events as celebrated artist of India much before Indian contemporary art became noticeable on the world art map. He shared dais with renowned artists like Pablo Picasso and virtually exhibited in every respectable museum all over the world. He was also an experimental film maker, and explored other medias besides painting which was his primary media of expression.

Husain was not only prolific painter but also one of those few artist who knew the business of art. He was a great friend of Nehru and later with Indira Gandhi , both former Prime Ministers of India. He was thus awarded a membership at the Parliament as a Rajya Sabha member during congress rule. besides being conferred with Padma Shri ,Padma Bhusan and Padma Vibhushan awards from Government of India, Husain has many many national as well as International awards under his bag. In short Husain as an artist was far ahead of his peers from his field, and had literately achieved every possible milestone of artistic achievement that any artists strives and dreams to achieve. There was no doubt the greatness of Hussein was all written in his achievements he conquered in his journey as an artist.

But was He the greatest artist? That can be another academic debate.
For me,the intrigue or mystic of Husain was not in his art but the life he lived, which can be summed in three aspects to his life.1. His larger than life image of an artist he created over the period of time.2. The controversies he lived through his life .3. loneliness of exile and eventual death in exile, marks a typical canvas of 'hero'.

Husain was unlike other artists. He was neither introvert and shy like Gaitonde, or Tyeb. Arrogant and abusive like Souza or polite and glib like Raza. Husain was extrovert. Smart. Intelligent and unabashedly focused on being famous. He was a showman first, Painter second. It was evident that what ever he did he did it with an air of showmanship. As artist Akbar Padamasee recounts " Hussein loved to be in news. Hussein was The news".

Indeed everything Husain did was the news. Husain hobnobbed with rich and powerful, beautiful and glamorous people. He rarely moved with fellow artists. Or he even discussed his art with his peers. Whenever he talked about his art, he directly spoke to the people of India, through media. Art Critics, art historians, gallerirst hardly mattered to him as far as his art was concerned. He painted for the rich and famous, powerful and glamorous people.

He was addicted to fame. Fame was his magnet.
All his activities revolved around that magical four letter word.

In 60s and 70s when art scene in India was as good as non existent, Husain was exhibiting his works in Museums abroad. When artists struggled to show and sell their works for few hundreds of rupees , Husain begged commissions for murals in all important institutions for several thousands of rupees , when artists were jailed during emergency by then prime minister of India, Husain praised and painted slogans saying India is Indira and Indira is Mother India.

Husain was unlike any artist. He never fitted in any mold of an artist. Nothing he did seemed right for an artist. He never lived by any rule. He never belonged to any world. Including the art world that he formulated. The only common thing Husain shared with his fellow artist is his love for painting. Husain loved painting. And he painted everything, from canvas to paper, to walls to cars to horses to naked bodies. Husain painted till his last breath.

No one had an inkling that he would die so sudden. He was ailing last few years but that never stopped him from painting and conceiving grand projects. He painted like a child talking about it, dreaming about it.It is this passion for his art that sets him apart from rest of the flock.

But what killed Husain? Shoba De in her interview recounted, that when she had gone to meet Husain in the hospital two days before his death, Husain had wished to be in India. He missed Mumbai where he roamed freely. When he drank famous Badasha's Falooda. Where he watched the setting sun at Haji Ali and rain at Marine drive.
In short Husain longed to be back in his home land. The homeland that had exiled him and the same homeland that he had renounced.

Technically, Husain died of congestion in chest and heart failure as channels announce.
But in reality he was killed by the Fame Monster.
It is shame and pity that fame he sought to become famous turned into a huge a monster- A Fame Monster which finally killed him as a lonely sad, old man longing for his home and people, the sights and sounds, the smells and tastes of his homeland that he yearned for. He just paid the price of being famous.

Controversies and debates will prevail around Husain even after his death.
Where Husain was great artist or not, only time will tell.
But he certianly was an artist that lived and died for India and therefore I salute him for his spirit for his mystery that he was.

So long Mr. Husain... R.I.P

Photo essay

These are few images from my first attempt at creating photo essay on manual mode.
Needless to say my teacher just rejected them:)
hopefully better luck next time.

Between Life and death: Aruna, Nidhi and a Tsunami

When world plunges in a tragedy like recent tsunami in Japan; where millions of people just vanished from the face of earth, one often falls in a numb silence wondering how to cope with such a tragedy. Indeed, you have never met those people but still the graphic images of death and devastation leaves one with a strange vacuum to deal with your own life.

Every day one stumbles upon tales of life and death. I find story of Aruna and Nidhi and the recent Japanese tsunami in particularly interlinked in a strange quirky way. Because all three stories deal with life and death own their own terms.

I choose to recount two woman's stories becasue their stories speak about the millions of women in India who struggle between life and death. Ironically, both the stories appeared on the 8th of March, a day when world celebrates it as woman's day.

Lets begin with Aruna. Aruna Shanbag is 67 years old woman currently lying in a government hospital bed in a vegetative state for past 37 years. Today she is deaf, dumb, blind and brain dead. She needs to be fed and tended to keep her alive. But this is not the way Aruna was born. 37 years back, Aruna was a lovely vivacious beautiful young nurse of the same hospital. She was was pretty and in love with a doctor whom she was to marry soon. Until a ward boy gagged her with a chain and raped her. Being gagged by a metal chain left her brain dead. She has not spoken a word, moved an inch, seen a sight or been able to hear any sound since then. She is lying in hospital bed in the same vegetative state for past 37 years.

Recently her friend and a well wisher, filed a petition for mercy killing in Supreme Court of India pleading that Aruna should be allowed to die with dignity. On the eve of 7th March Court gave the verdict. Aruna has to live. No matter what she goes through in her life, she cannot be killed.

So Aruna continuous to live. No one knows if she really wants to live or die. Hospital staff who has been tending her for past 37 years say that every moment for Aruna is a struggle. Struggle between life and death. But she has chosen to live. If she wanted to die she would have given up on life long back. It is only her 'will' to live keeps her going, even in this vegetative state.

Lets turn to Nidhi's story. Nidhi Gupta became the front page story on woman's' day becasue she committed suicide on 8th of march. Which also happened to be her 10th wedding anniversary. Nidhi killed herself by jumping from high rise building. But before she jumped to death she also flung her 6 year old son and 3 year old daughter to death.

Nidhi was only 32 years old and qualified chartered accountant working as a guest lecturer in the city college. A modern educated woman qualified to deal with modern life. And yet she chose to end her and her children without putting up a fight to live.

I am not in position to judge either Aruna's choice (?) to life or Nidhi's decision to embrace death. I cannot say if the supreme court has done the right thing by keeping Aruna in a vegetative state till her death was a correct decision or Nidhi who could have walked out on her husband and chosen to defend her own life instead of committing suicide was wrong decision. Life and death are only to positions.

When you ponder upon these two tales one just wonders,why one chose to live and why other preferred to die. What does life and death mean to these two women? Somewhere between these two tales lies the horrific tale of millions of people in Japan who had no choice between death and life. No body asked them if they want to live or die.Some perished, some survived, without their wish.

You again ponder, how will they cope with this? will they choose to kill themselves? or continue to live. You look for answers and seek solace in wise words of Don Juan ..." Life is an endless challenge and challenges possibly cannot be good or bad. Challenges are simply challenges".

And I hope those Japanese who have survived the quake and a tsunami and now a nuclear threat, this is going to be a huge challenge! I wish they will have the strength and courage to deal with this calamity one more time.

That strange feeling

you know it when it is coming
that strange feeling

in the throat
in the back
in the heart
in the stomach
in the womb

covering every inch
of my clarity
sobriety and
strength

Breathing
growing
invading
every tissue and every molecule
spreading like a virus
dripping like blood
rising like sun

slowly but steadily
it is coming
that strange feeling

you know it darling,
it is the same feeling
taking your mind
taking your heart
taking your reason
taking your emotions


you wait
to breath
in and out
again
breath in and out
one last time
as


droplets of sweat
trickle on the spine
and the flooding of lights
blind you for a while
one moment
you begin to see in the pitch dark

it is the same strange feeling

Having to believe!

We all believe in something. Most of the times our beliefs are reasonable. We believe in things, ideas, objects etc, etc. For instance , you believe that this life is finite because you see people around die. So it is reasonable to believe that life is finite. You believe the trees are immobile because you see them standing in one place all your life. You believe water is fluid and not solid( when not turned in to ice) because you see it flowing . So believes are mostly formed by some experience , generally verified by some proof or other. And most of the times we as humans generate consensuses of these beliefs and we call them truths.

But not all beliefs can be verified or generate consensus. They remain on the liminal spaces of personal experience. And when you cannot reason these experiences you call them 'magical' or 'mythical'. Does that make this experience untrue? Do you discard these beliefs because you cannot explain some one what your experience is real?
I call it "having to believe". Having to believe is a choice you make to believe in something, in spite your reason tells you otherwise. You just 'choose' to believe because you want to it be true.

Let me tell you a story to explain this. A story my mother told me when I was young. I have no idea why she told me this tale. May be this was very important to her and wanted to share it with her daughter. I never forgot it.

"One day me and my friend went to the river side to play.River was located outside the town and girls were generally not allowed to go there. But we were tempted to gather some smooth polished stones that were found in the shallow river bed. So we sneaked out without telling our elders where we were going. We got so carried in gathering stones,that we forgot the time. And it suddenly gotten dark when we realized we were all by ourselves. The river was located outskirts of village and there was no much habitation on the way. As we realized we were marooned in that place, we were very petrified. Even to trace our steps back was impossible because it was not a paved road.

I just dropped all the stones I had collected carefully in my skirt, and stood frozen with fear. Speechless with thoughts crowding my mind that knew spooky tales of ghosts and spirits.By now my friend had begun to cry .

Just then we heard a voice in the pitch darkness... a thick raspy voice."What the hell you two are doing here at this hour" voice asked in angry tone. "We were playing and did not realize the time" - I said in barely audible tone."This is not the place to play games " the voice retorted back in booming voice again.

I tried to orient myself to the direction the voice was coming, but I could see nothing. Nothing at all. I could hear sounds of his sandals, rough leather sandals worn by Shepard in the town. He must have carried a staff because he banged it hard on the ground as he spoke angrily. Staff had some bells that jingled sweetly as he moved the staff.

For a moment we all stood in silence.

Then the voice emerged again."I will drop you home . Just keep following the sound of these bells. And if you want to remain alive, do not turn back and look.I mean what I say.Just walk" the Voice boomed in a ruthless command. We had no choice but to follow his command.

We hugged each other tight and walked. Walked in that pitch darkness. I can't tell you what road that we walked. I Don't know how long we must have walked. We kept walking at the sound of the bells and creaking leather shoes. My friends house came first. So he stopped and asked her to go home. I could see some people moving in far distance . He again warned her not to turn back and look.

As I watched her run in distance towards her home, I was alone besides that man. Fear was paramount, as I walked. All could hear was my heavy breath. I could not see or hear a thing around me. Even the sound of his staff bells had ceased. I kept walking, till I saw my house in distance. I did not wait for the man to tell me to go home and ran towards the lights that were dimly lit. My body refused to turn around. Even when in my mind I wanted to see who he was . I just ran for my life.

"Where had you been?" my mother admonished me as she saw me running in house. I said nothing. In fact I spoke nothing to any one for few days. But I was very curious to solve this mystery. Me and my friend kept this as secret mission and tried to investigate on our own. We knew some man had helped us , and we wanted to know who he was. We checked out among the farmers in the village who lived on the outside the village if they had known anyone who had helped the village girls in the night. But no one knew it.

After some days we just gave up our quest.

After sometime I revealed this story to my grandmother and my mother. When they heard story they brushed it as casual event by saying "oh! you just met the village god. he is know for helping people who loose their way!". I abandoned my quest to find a reasonable answer to this event.

My mother stopped her tale abruptly. She never explained this tale to me.

She just narrated it and left it for me to accept or reject it. To make my own judgments. But I Know that from that day onwards she chose to believe that someone will be always be there for her when she looses your way in her life.

I believe this is her tale of "having to believe".
This is her personal myth she lived by.

Today I just shared it with you.