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Reaffirmation

Posted on January 27, 2014 by bioscopewalirachna

Rajpath, New Delhi , India. Sunday, 26^th January 2014. The 65^th Republic Day of India.

The Su-30 MKI soared into a Vertical Charlie and the crowd roared its approval. As the tri-colour balloons soared and the flags unfurled in the skies my faith in my country reaffirmed itself. Substantially.

I washed away, today, my slowly growing, poisonous cynicism as an Indian with the tears of pride I shed as I viewed, in a lot of glory, an India which was receding into chasms of negativity, in my mind and memory.

Cry I did.

At the tribute to the Amar Jawan. Thank you Unknown Soldier for guarding our freedom. I am grateful.

When the Arjun-MK-II –“Desert Ferrari” Tank rolled past. Home grown. When “Tejas” our first indigenous aircraft took a bow. I am filled with pride.

Every time I saw women in the contingents- as part of, leading, all women and on the tableau. I have hope for those who still suffer.

When the contingents of the services marched past in perfect tandem. I have admiration for your discipline and dedication.

When I saw the crowd of thousands, brave the coldest 26th January in a decade to watch and applaud. It fills me with happiness that the day was still important to so many.

All the colour. All the hard work. All our might. The security personnel guarding us as we watched.

There are a lot of things going wrong in our country today. There also a lot of things going right. Emphasis on the negatives alone can be such a shroud of despair. I resolved today to be a more positive Indian.

Why did I have to write all of this down?

As a record for me to refer at will for time tends to erode memory and I want to hold on to this one particularly. It is also the day I said after a long time-I am proud to be an Indian.

Madras Cafe

Posted on August 26, 2013 by bioscopewalirachna

I found it very difficult to write this review. I clearly remember the event it describes and till date consider that death to be in many ways the death of hope and progress for India. For nothing really stabilised for us as a country since then. Would it have been different if he had lived? Yes-I strongly believe so. That’s what they saw….the conspirators and did him in. But let’s discuss this another time.

Madras Cafe is set in the late eighties and early nineties, against the backdrop of the Sri Lankan Civil War involving the LTF (LTTE) and the forces sent by the Indian Government to intervene and ensure peace. The forces are the up-front IPKF and the under-cover operations of the RAW (Research and Analysis Wing).

The Tamilians in Sri Lanka are ill-treated by the other natives and thus rises the LTF to liberate them and fight for an independent Tamil section in parts of Sri Lanka. To escape being butchered en-masse, droves of Tamilians migrate to India and this huge migration causes some concern to the government. They or rather the Prime Minister in place then, decides to intervene, send a peace force and restore normalcy to the lives of the Tamilians in particular and the country in general. He thereby seals his fate.

For the Tamilians are not happy with what they are offered and not only reject the terms but also become a shade more deadly than they already are. The LTF are aided and abetted by unnamed western forces and the degree of fire power and technology they have at their disposal are spine chilling. Enter Major Vikram Singh of the RAW who is sent in to conduct a covert operation to counter the LTF and their Chief Bhaskaran. As he nears his goal, he is sold out by a leak in their system and his effort backfires.

He confirms his suspicions and soldiers on doggedly, helped by a war correspondent Jaya Sahni who is extremely forthright in all she says and does and encouraged by RD Sir-his chief. He stumbles upon and unfolds a chilling plan of the LTF to assassinate the Ex-PM of the country. Yes…the one who sent in the Peace forces and help the cause. They crack the codes and race against time but are too late.

Madras Cafe is the rendezvous point where arms deals, ambushes and eventually an elimination are planned…. between the LTF, A representative of the western world and a traitorous Indian. Thus the name.

The story is related in flash back by a very traumatised Major Vikram Singh, struggling to come to terms with the failure of his mission and all that he lost in life. A gripping, well executed narrative that does not falter. There are very very thankfully no songs, unnecessary comic relief or titillation. It’s a matter of fact portrayal of espionage, statecraft and politics in the real world. Well directed by Shoojit Sircar.Yes of course there are inconsistencies…..but I am not mentioning them here. They are immaterial against the overall quality of the film.

The Acting

John Abraham as Major Vikram Singh certainly looks the part with his toughness. The actual emoting is a trifle below par but his rendition of “Where The Mind Is Without Fear” is poignant.

Nargis Fakhri is well suited to the role of the War Correspondent with her accent and clearly western demeanour.

Siddartha Basu as Robin Dutt, Chief of RAW is a surprise. Over emphatic in some scenes, overall he is great to watch. His presence in the film was a treat!

Ajay Ratnam as Anna Bhaskaran, Chief of the LTF is calm in his demeanour but a certain sense of purpose towards his cause and antagonism to India seep through and there is no doubt of what he feels.

Prakash Belawadi as Bala, the RAW desk in Madras does a fantastic portrayal of an alcoholic and corrupt officer, who hides under his belligerent exterior the heart of a traitor and sells his nation out.

Rashi Khanna as Ruby, Vikram’s wife is suited for the role and has acted well.

The music is largely in the background and suited. The one song….”Maula Sun Le Re” is a heartfelt appeal to the all mighty to just be heard.

The film unfolds much like a documentary, beginning with the grim realities of Sri Lanka at the time. Bodies in heaps, children crying and death and despair in every grey, grimy frame. A montage of unspeakable and unbearable violence. Every emotion-be it Ruby’s desperate loneliness, Bala’s drunken scheming, RD’s helplessness at convincing the PM to cancel his meetings and even the suicide bomber’s practice dry run get under one’s skin.

Specially the suicide bomber’s dry run.

“Back switch. Front switch”

Bend to touch feet.

Death. Despair. Destruction.

The story of the assassination of an ex-Prime Minister of India.

India….from a train

Posted on March 23, 2013 by bioscopewalirachna

The sun is shining brightly over rolling green and yellow fields of wheat.Trees dot the scene and occassionally small ,
red,brick dwellings can be seen at a distance.

A canal of silvery sustenance flows gently while cattle stand around ,swishing away flies with their tails while contentedly chewing the cud.

Small knots of humanity labour away in the fields while sky high electricity towers stand tall and commanding like so many soldiers of progress.

A picturesque outcome of sweat and toil.

India from a train.

Down Memory Lane..(s)

Posted on January 31, 2013 by bioscopewalirachna

As a child, when my father was posted in Air Headquarters in the early 1980s, we used to visit family in Old Delhi very often. The route taken from Connaught Place to Roop Nagar was via the Ring Road in Delhi. To the right, on this road were the final resting places of eminent Indian leaders and to the left-the ramparts of the imposing Red Fort.

Roop Nagar consisted of a number of lanes, lined with double or triple storied houses-all with a “chhajja” or balcony over-looking the street. Kids older than me played happy “gali” cricket and the visits were never complete without a treat of succulent “jalebis” and crisp “samosas” and “kachoris”.

The fascination for Old Delhi took root then….all those years ago. Over the passage of time, we moved out of Delhi and so did our family from Old Delhi. The memories receded somewhat in the background as I got down to the business of education, learning and occupation.

By a happy chance, my first job post my hotel management was based out on Asaf Ali Road at The Hotel Broadway. An orientation trip to the hotel took me straight down memory lane….in more ways than one! The recollections got a little sharper and I renewed my acquaintance with Old Delhi….leading this time to a firm friendship.

Asaf Ali road is located just a flyover’s distance from Connaught Place and the drive takes us from Edwin Lutyen’s British Delhi to the erstwhile Mughal capital-Shahjahanabad. The contrast is drastic and fascinating. In the 1950s, Asaf Ali Road was the business district of Delhi and was apparently called the “golden mile of Delhi”, for the rich businessmen who owned high value property here and transacted their lucrative businesses. Even today, major business transactions are carried out from various offices here and it is home to the Delhi Stock Exchange.

Hotel Broadway-built in 1956 and my first work place is a quiet and homely property, which has some third generation guests from the same family as its regular patrons. Comfortable guest rooms and a restaurant with a touch of eccentricity and terrific food-Chor Bizarre make it a desirable destination.

As a young trainee, I was taken through the paces of learning the ropes of my trade, except that some of the ropes here were unusual. Namely-Chor Bizarre’s Memory Lanes. Walks through the lanes of Old Delhi with a brief lesson in history and the way of the Indian life. Endlessly fascinating for visiting foreigners. And just as enthralling for me. And thus the unlikeliest of friendships got a fresh start-Old Delhi and I.

Teeming with people with scarcely an inch to walk. The long stretch of road chock-a-block with cycle rickshaws, cars, busses, two-wheelers, handcarts and occasionally cattle….amidst honking and incessant noise. Chandni Chowk is a far sight from the clean, orderly existence of the “fauj.” Yet, this bustling place is the hub of business and one of the largest whole sale markets in the country.

Historically, Chandni Chowk dates back to the Mughal era.A part of Shahjahanabad-the Mughal Capital built by Shah Jahan. Designed by his daughter Jahan Ara, a lane each was dedicated to traders plying the same trade. This encouraged quality and competition.

Thus there is “Dariba Kalan”-the silver market- a row of silver shops with a brief and fragrant “ittar” halt as an age old “ittar” merchant has his shop here. Name a flower; he’ll give you an “ittar” for it. Proceed on your way and a burst of colour greets us-for we reach “Kinari Bazaar” selling embellishments, borders and bling of every conceivable kind- aptly called the “Marriage Market; “Ballimaran” –where oarsmen lived and “Khari Baoli”-the whole sale spice and dry-fruit market-built over a dried step-well or “baoli” of salted water.

Invariably, every other shop has a “nazar-battu” at the entrance. 7 chillies and a lemon strung together to ward off evil spirits and encourage business.

It is not only about commerce though.

One cannot talk about Chandni Chowk and not discuss food. The crisp “parathas” of “Parathe Wale Gali” , the humungous “jalebis” of “Jalebi Wala” and the crisp “aloo tikkis” from “Natraj.” Add to this the small vendor serving “matar-kulcha” from a shining brass pot strapped on his cycle. No swanky restaurant on earth can ever replicate these flavours. The “Ghantewala” mithai shop, is in fact said to be in existence from the days of Shah Jahan himself and is so named because his elephant used to refuse to budge from here till fed his favourite sweets, shaking his head and ringing the bell around his neck.

“Karims” serves some succulent kababs and curries and during Ramazan, the streets behind Jama Masjid are a beautiful sight to behold. Lit up and humming with activity, mouth watering biryanis and other delectables tempt our appetites.

But the food is one jewel in the crown. There are others.

A terrific example of religious co-existence, Chandni Chowk boasts of the majestic Jama Masjid towering over the area. The Hindu Gauri Shankar Temple and The Digambar Jain Temple follow next with Gurudwara Sis Ganj Saheb and A Baptist Church along the way and The Fatehpuri Masjid at the end. In the many by-lanes off Chandni Chowk as well, there nestle small temples and mosques, including a Jain Shwetambara Temple. There is, no doubt some inter-religious tension once in a way. However, the day to day life appears peaceful and it is quite heart-warming to see so many houses of the same god all on one street like neighbours.

As it says in my daughter’s school prayer:

“Mandir –Masjid Ya Girija Ghar,

Sabhi Prabhu Ke Dham,

Malik Sab Ka Hai,

Alag Alag Hai Naam”

Translated, it means Temple, Mosque or Church

All are home to God,

There is but one God,

We just know him by different names.

Across the road, the imposing facade of The Red Fort, the Tri-colour a-top adds to the already rich character of the place. It brings home the fact of our secularism.

I have missed as many attractions and places as I have mentioned. It is impossible to do justice to them all in one go. But as I wrote about the colour, the history, the heritage and the food, it came home to me that what attracts me most is how unpretentious the people and places are. They are straight forward, hardworking and businesslike, but invariably polite and courteous. No airs and graces yet the charm of an era gone by. A sense of inherent values and honesty. A sense of real India.

(This post has been published as “Bustling Memories” in the Dec 2012-Jan 2013 issue of “Salute to the Indian Soldier”.)

Memories of Mumbai-Yeh Hai Bombay Meri Jaan

Posted on July 15, 2012 by bioscopewalirachna

Sometimes, the merest thing can trigger off memories- an image, a sound, the whiff of a perfume. I viewed a photograph of Mumbai….endless tall buildings, a grey snaking road and a bird soaring in the sky and there I was transported back to my favourite city.

I WAS suddenly that bird…..free, flying, soaring over a city which I love-warts and all! A city which sets me free….for it has given me so much to be grateful for. A flood of recollections came rushing…..about Mumbai or Bombay as it was then, about me. About happiness, contentment, a simple life and friends.

My earliest memories are of Bombay….since I was born there in a Naval hospital. The family roots were in Mumbai- a slew of them…..Grandparents, uncles, aunts, second cousins, spread across the length (since there is very little breadth) of the city. My father was in the Air Force, so we travelled the country on postings. Summer vacations were invariably in Bombay. Thus giving me the most enriching moments of my life.

My nani and mausi lived in Worli….in one of the oldest chawls possibly in the city. I had friends in all the 10-12 houses. A terrific view of the Naka itself , an Irani cafe across the road, a delectable bakery around the corner and that lovely sea breeze blowing all the time. A HUGE fish market close by made for entertaining visit with nani. The access to the fish was through a row of other shops selling utensils, bangles, groceries and the most amazing peach coloured “Shrikhand” flavoured “golis” which I could eat by the dozen.(still can!) Kittens with pointy ears and huge eyes skulked in corners, hungrily eyeing the glazed eyed fish heads as the benign, “nav-vari” clad ladies sold their “not very aromatic when raw” wares at the top of their voices! Colourful, thriving, throbbing with life, full of vitality, rushing at a great pace…life in Bombay for me.

The vacations were idyllic. Playing with my dolls, getting them married, swinging on the makeshift swing my nani used to rig up for me, eating, sleeping, movie outings, meals at family homes, LOTS of books to read and lots and lots of companionable conversation, a normal loving home. Simple pleasures, simple joys. Shaping my personality for the years to come.

What I also learned, though I realised it only later was the absolute melting pot of cultures I got exposed to and learnt from. Maharashtrians, Gujaratis, Sindhis, Marwaris, they all taught me a bit about themselves. The language, the food, the nuances have stayed with me through the years. I know kanda, batata, kothmir as I know aloo-pyaz, dhania! I love little vatis of dal with varan as much as I do my aloo paraths. I love sai-bhaji-A Sindhi dish bursting with greens , surprisingly healthy AND mouth wateringly delicious.

Ganpati, Govinda, Gudi Padwa were our festivals-celebrated in all their fervour by all in the community. Ganpati in fact is my favourite festival- as much for the lovable Vighnaharta Vinayak as for the community feel and tremendous sense of belonging it gives. I always wanted to celebrate Ganpati back here in Delhi too but it somehow has never happened. I do however, make it a point to visit wherever the “sthapna” has been done. I do manage till laddoos on Sankranti, the occasional dandiya –raas garba twirl during navratri and Maharashtrian sarees always! The beats of the dhol from Bombay make me want to break into that rapturous, unfettered dancing which is so Mumbaiyya! Think “Mach gaya shor sari nagri re” from “Khuddar”http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p-u4VdG064I. Think ONLY the beats and music from “Chikni Chameli”!

As I grew, the dolls went, the books increased, the outings and family remained the same. Comforting in its sameness, we had a drill-reach Mumbai….relax and then meet and visit EVERY single family and relative we had. Shopping at Dadar and Gandhi Market (beautiful sarees) and on occasion a memorable trip to Crawford Market, which has remained with me also for the delicious “faluda” I sampled at Badshah. Movies dotted our busy social schedule and other activities also were fitted in with ease-which once included a show called “Holiday on Ice “graceful ice skating and dancing.

The teenage years ended and college beckoned-in my case The Institute of Hotel Management at Veer Savarkar Marg….popularly known as Dadar Catering at Shivaji Park…:) And I discovered a totally different Mumbai…..as a young student. BEST buses to get to college-inevitably the same one every day, vada pav at the Dadar beach, hitching a ride home (students of Dadar catering were famous for hitching rides….it was against our principles to pay to go home!) Clothes from Fashion Street, browsing for book bargains on the pavements of Fountain and drinking Energee. An occasional high expense (we were students) visit to Strand book stall left me happy with my loot but thirsting for LOTS more. A place I discovered which stays my very own is an outcrop of rocks right behind the Mahalakshmi temple. Once done with the darshan, it used to be possible to just go sit there and gaze at the sea. Indescribable peace.

Weekends were for movies at Sterling and Regal, and for visiting my dada-dadi at Vile Parle. My best friend lived a short walk away, so long hours were spent in his company, discussing the meaning of life and sampling pav-bhaji at Adar-one of those typically Mumbai Udipi joints serving delicious everything-Idli, dosa, pav bhaji, uttapam, fresh juices, sev puri, dahi batata puri…..yummmmm!

The (very) occasional night out parting with friends, an odd party there and my college life was sorted. Since, at our college, we also were required to work in hotels post 5 pm to gain practical experience, a whole bunch of us were inevitably found near The Taj around midnight, finding our way home. Walking the deserted streets-safely I might add to the nearest station or bus stop. College itself was fairly hectic and military like in its schedule and expectations…I guess I took to it because I grew up in and with the Air Force.

Three years sped by….and in each of those, Mumbai was racked by violence. The riots when the Babri Masjid fell, the horrific blasts and the subsequent riots too. My Mumbai was battered and bludgeoned. It was hurt. But its spirit was intact and it came to its feet in a trice and cocked a snook at the perpetrators of those heinous activities. It said to the world-“my head is bloody but unbowed”.

The assaults on Mumbai have continued since, but till date the city bounces back…albeit that she is an old lady now.

I left Mumbai 18 odd years ago. Since the, I have gone back almost once in two years for some achingly short and some satisfyingly long holidays. It still holds its charm for me. It still liberates me.

I now live in Gurgaon-a part of the National Capital Region of New Delhi. Very often, I witness the great Mumbai-Delhi divide…..endless discussions on the merits and demerits if both. Many people around me rue the state Mumbai is in today. Overcrowded, dirty, chaotic. Full of immigrants. They crinkle their noses in disdain over the slums. They shake their heads at the slow-moving traffic. They say “I can’t live in Mumbai”. And I look at them and think…”I wish I COULD live in Mumbai. I t is home. It is happiness. It is the days of my youth.”

(Thank You Kunal Karan Kapoor for permission to use the photograph!)

(This post was published as “Indelible Bombay” by Unboxed Writers http://unboxedwriters.com on August 21, 2012)