A New Awakening......

Have been wanting to share this article that I wrote during my Masters in Hyderabad for a looong time.....here it is....

A New Awakening:

         Prejudice can really imprison a mind. Imagine being trapped in a room with no windows, with the door locked, your days passing by, unfelt, unseen. The only survival measure being, the meager means that you have been provided to just barely live. What do you do? In the initial days, you crib, and then very soon your body begins to adopt a certain pattern of complacence, which soon turns into a habit. And then, your mental faculties curl inward, pack up and begin their long snooze. All the while, the only thing you need is to wake up to the fact that albeit the door is closed, it is closed from the inside ……

      That’s what I realized when I happened to be friends with Mohammed and Abdul. It was my first day at the University of Hyderabad, and the seventeen students gathered in the MSc Biochemistry class of 2004 were more or less a homogenous lot except for the two suit clad men….err…you couldn’t call them boys for the simple reason that they looked years elder to any of us present there. The rest of us glanced discreetly at them, taking in their bulky frames, the so obviously foreign countenances, the whiff of some exotic perfume they had sprayed a little too liberally…..and I bet you….all of us thought how on earth could we call these grown up men- Muslim men- our classmates for the coming two years. And whereas, we knew that they had come from the Middle East, none of us had even heard about Yemen….a small country situated beside Oman.

       Those first days, a nasty rumor rose that Abdul, a thirtyish stocky guy with a small paunch, mirthful eyes and an amicable predisposition, was indeed married, with two wives…one, whom he had brought to India along with his four daughters, leaving behind the other wife, possibly with some more children! The rest of us found this piece of news utterly incredible, as even the mere thought of having to care for a family while you need to study Biochemistry was inconceivable to us. The Govt. of Yemen had arranged for him to study in India, paying him a meager stipend of 14,000 rupees a month, which given the nature of his family, was definitely not what you’d call luxurious.

      Mohammed Mansur, the other guy, was what you’d call the classic Muslim – a very handsome mustachioed face with a head full of dark, curly hair, an aquiline nose, an attractive smile, an inherent confidence and a love for life. He was a happy bachelor, full of wit and the most amazing sense of humor I’ve ever seen. He too had been sent to India to pursue his Masters and he stayed in the University International Hostel, as against Abdul, who stayed with his family in a small rented apartment just outside the campus.  In a class where virtually everyone was a genius, having bagged a coveted seat in this world renowned University, yet had a subdued perspective of life, Abdul and Mohammed ushered in a rainbow of laughter, joy, friendship and love. Only time would unravel this……

        India may seem to be the embodiment of secularism, but the undercurrent of religious prejudice still mars its foundation. And none of this is emphasized more than when a Muslim is in the picture. Most of us, including myself, have been brought up with the belief never to trust a Muslim, much less be friends. Back in my school days, I had Muslim friends –Sabira, Imran, Farzana, Sohaib, and Aftab -who are still very much in touch and who would invite us to their Id Celebrations. They seemed to me pretty much the same, except maybe that their vocabulary was more poetic, and they tended to be a little conservative. But no such thing as gender discrimination, or stuff like burkhas and skull caps being a must. Even when I arrived in Hyderabad, a city renowned for its resplendent Nawabi culture, I hardly noticed any radical traits. In fact, with India’s bloody history of Hindu-Muslim feudalism, I found the fact of 45% of the Hyderabadi population being Muslim and living in perfect cultural and social harmony with their Hindu counterparts, worthy of praise.

      But meeting Abdul and Mohammed not just deepened my respect and fascination for their culture, it indeed made me acutely appreciative of the finer nuances of their lifestyles , their excellent sense of hospitality, their resources of courage, adaptability and resilience and most of all- I say this with all my heart- their unlimited capacity to give love, share love.

     Once our classes and practicals began, we discovered that both Abdul and Mohammed had superior knowledge in Microbiology, both having spent a year in Pathology labs as technicians in Yemen. As two lone foreigners crammed with fifteen other brilliant students much younger than them in age and having a better command of English, I never recall even a single moment when they showed diffidence or hesitation in speaking out their minds. They had a brilliant sense of individualism, and had they not lacked a deeper knowledge of English when answering their term papers, they could have scored as well as some of the better students. As it is, they hadn’t come all the way to India to prove their mite, but to gain sufficient subject knowledge so that when they would return back to their country, they could land jobs as assistant Professors and teach at their local University. Hence, they spent major time in learning Biochemistry, and polishing their real Achilles’ heel-English. And for that, they chose me!   

       Having had an ICSE background, my English was…lets put it this way- more eloquent if not actually better that the rest of the lot. So many a sunny day was spent in imparting the finer nuances of the language to my budding ‘students”. They both had an O.K. grasp on the grammar but boy! were they absolutely atrocious in their pronunciation…especially when it came to words beginning with the letters G and J. So according to Abdul, he wanted to go to ‘joa” looking for a ‘gob’ (read Goa looking for a Job); he wore a “jold” dagger on his waistband (read gold)  and Mohammed once called the word ‘general” as “giniral”, making all of us wonder what word was he actually referring to. In spite of the language handicap, they cracked jokes that sent us all into uncontrollable laughter, and soon we also came to know that Abdul’s two-wife rumor was nothing but a rumor.

       Once, during our annual fest, Abdul brought along his youngest daughter, Mayada. The two year old was a spitting image of her dad, and was so cute; we fought over who would hold her. Another time, his eldest daughter Amera, who was nine, danced on the stage to the tune of a Telegu song. I desperately wanted to meet his wife, so one fine evening I set out for their house. The welcome that I received from his four daughters and wife, Nadah, was unparalleled. I mean, in spite of the huge language gap, and amidst my English banter and gesticulations and their frantic Arabic, very little of love got lost. Amera, his eldest, knew a little English and the first thing that she asked me was whether her dad was a good “student” and how did he score. Sitting there, I imagined Abdul studying for his exams, probably alongside his own children amidst the din and clamor. I also noticed he was a doting father; not once did any irritation or worry mar his cheerful face. Looking at Nadah’s serene, beautiful face, I imagined how nostalgic she would be feeling here, hundreds of miles apart from her family in a strange place, cooped up in her apartment as she hardly ventured out on her own as she spoke neither Hindi nor English to converse with even the shopkeepers. Very obviously, they were on a tight budget, and the scant furniture bore testimony to that. Even for a moment, if I conceived of myself in Abdul’s shoes, I got heartache imagining his worries and troubles. So much was riding on his MSc degree, and imagine having to uproot an entire family and settle in an unaccustomed , strange place armed only with hope for a better tomorrow……the rest of us could have been toppers and gold medalists, but I bet we wouldn’t have carried on our shoulders what Abdul so effortlessly seemed to be doing.

      The dinner that they whipped up for me was, truly, one of the best I’ve ever eaten. Notwithstanding the love that laced the food, the taste of Arabic fare was fabulous. One could say it was almost the cousin of Indian cuisine, as they served me large tandoor baked naans, a huge omlette I’m sure which contained no less than 6-8 eggs, a vegetable stir fried side dish and of course, chicken with gravy. All the dishes were really tasty, albeit a little less spicy. The highlight of the entire ritual was that all the six of us

(Nadah, me and the four children) ate from the same large plate, sometimes even sharing spoons. I must confess that never in my life had I shared my plate with so many, and I must also admit that the feeling was good…wholesome good. Having myself spent five years away from home, the circle of love that Abdul’s family included me into felt touching, especially because I could never have imagined that one day, I would be dining with strangers who lived in a country I didn’t even know existed. With a bounty of kisses that the womenfolk showered on me, I left their house late into the night, richer by several degrees of happiness and experience.

        After that first visit, I became a frequent presence there; the food part being only second to meeting and having fun with the kids. Some of their neighbors were also from Yemen. I became especially close to a young couple- Hishaab and his wife Abeer. Abeer was born and brought up in New York, and I simply loved talking to her as I could give free course to my expressions in a language she could understand completely, without having to resort to gestures and the ensuing confusion. What was surprising about her was that even with her New York upbringing, she had conceded to marry Hishaab, her first cousin, who was an out and out Yemeni, and whom she had seen only once in her life when she had been a kid. What was even more shocking was that she was only sixteen, and, already pregnant with their first child. When I asked her how she had adjusted to the gaping cultural difference between her childhood years as against what she encountered after her marriage, she only said that she couldn’t have gone against her father’s wish. She had studied only till the 10^th grade. Given my fascination with travel and meeting people of different cultures and races, I bet my envy of her having lived in New York and seen the Statue of Liberty was nothing compared to the envy she felt against me for having such a free life and being so educated. By the time she had a baby girl, I was already into my PhD, which served to emphasize the irony only more.

        The two years of our MSc drew to a close. All of us were frantic with preparations for the upcoming PhD entrances. Most of my classmates were planning to do their research in the US. I had a different set of plans. My PhD was irrevocably entwined with my marriage to my childhood sweetheart, Satish and hence I chose to work in the same university in the same city where he was based. Abdul and Mohammed’s stay in India too was drawing to a close as they had to go back to their country. Having been a close knit group of friends for two wonderful years in the campus, all of us were sad thinking about our imminent separation. Also, life as a student, as carefree birds, was on the brink of the next phase of our lives- adulthood. The mere thought of having to deal with an altogether different set of problems and situations left us all deep in despair. To enliven the melancholia, Abdul and Mohammed organized a sort of midnight farewell party, where apart from our classmates, they had also invited over their other foreign friends. They cut a big cake, passed around soft drinks and as the bash reached its peak, Mohammed, well known for his emotional bent of bind, entreated each one of us to say something about the past glorious days, after he himself gave a touching speech. Some of his friends from the Middle East had us in splits cracking jokes and just fooling around. A puny guy from Mongolia sang a native song. Another one from Uganda rapped. As for us, we all spoke our hearts out. I dedicated a song to them-“That’s what friends are for” …... Before they left for their country, I remember having hugged them goodbye, a gesture I had never shared even with my own brother here.

     Life moved on for all of us. A major chunk of our “crème de la crème” class left for the U.S. in pursuit of higher glory. For some time, all of us were in touch through e mail, but gradually, as our individual worries wore us down, we drifted apart. But the memories lingered, still retaining the power to bring a smile to our faces whenever we reminisced about the past days.

     One day, I got on the University bus, as I was now married and no longer stayed in the campus hostel and hence had to commute everyday from my home in the city. As the bus was about to move, a foreign middle aged couple flagged the bus. As destined, they sat next to me, as every other seat was taken up. Normally, I’d open my book and read through the entire 45minutes of my commute and get down at my stop, but that day, I glanced at the book the lady just opened. I noticed that she was reading the book from the back and when I looked at the page she was reading, I was surprised to see that the script was unlike anything I’d ever seen before. It consisted of a series of squarish, triangularish, roundish figures and I just couldn’t hold in my curiosity and asked her outright what script that was. She looked at me, smiled and said- “Hebrew”. Well well well….if that wasn’t coincidence of the best kind. They were Jews, Professors of Islamic culture at the University of Jerusalem and right now on a world tour to gather material for the book they were planning to write. Being a hard core fan of Jews, empathetic of their horrendous past, a real admirer of their spirit of resilience and most of all a die hard fan of Jewish stalwarts like Einstein, Spielberg and God knows so many others….I struck up a cheerful banter with the couple. They were quite surprised when I spoke about their customs like bar mitzvah, Sabbath, their holy book, the Talmud, kosher food and “mazel tov” etc. and told me I had a great future with knowledge like mine. The 45minutes came to an end, and just like that they gave me their website and e mail addresses and also offered me a Post Doctoral Fellowship in their university when I was done with my PhD.

The meeting left a pleasant aftertaste for days, and once again, as I often feel, I felt the world is indeed a small place.

      Folks like Abdul, Mohammed, the Jewish couple, Abeer….all with their different personal stories have served to establish one fact certainly- that no matter what the country, the color, the race, the circumstances, in a world marred by racial prejudice, fascism, fundamentalism, there still exists in the hearts of some people an inherent kindness, an instinctive urge to care and comfort, and most of all a primal need for love and to love. Let prejudice build its web, we have plenty of free birds to fly across borders.

A Wonderful Biography of J N Tata

Jhoota Hi Sahi : some thoughts

I'm not a big fan of John Abraham. Nor am I someone who would endorse his acting skills. Yet, the thing about actors is that sometimes, in the hands of the right director, they can even surpass their limitations as actors, and create a work that, even though not popular or famous, not bright like a neon light, glows like embers, emanating a quiet warmth.

I quite accidentally saw "Jhoota Hi Sahi", a really cool movie directed by Jaane Tu...director Abbas Tyrewala. I don't even recall when this movie was released. And most certainly, it never got the acclaim that Jaane Tu garnered. Of course, Jaane Tu....was itself a really well made movie, perhaps Imran's best yet, but what sets apart "Jhoota..." is the story, the superb cast , the almost effortless acting that everyone has put in, the excellent setting, and a general feeling of everything being nice and eventually turning out good. I wonder what made it not click with the audience.

In a way, it has many parallels with some of Hrishikesh Mukherjee's movies, wherein, even the most mundane character is well nuanced, and each one leaves a mark in the viewer's mind. And the narrative is the centerpiece, supplemented with ironic humour, reflective moments and understated form. Quite briefly, "Jhoota...." is the tale of a shy, stammering, and introverted guy, played with unassuming maturity by John, who accidentally becomes part of a phone service that provides suicidal people with hope and a desire to live. He befriends a girl, played by a very talented, natural actress, Pakhi Tyrewala, while convincing her not to take her life after her breakup with her boyfriend. In an attempt to cheer her up, he cooks up a false facade of his personality, and when she accidentally comes to his book shop one day and he meets her in person, to live up to his fabricated image, he pretends to be another guy and does not reveal that he is the same guy who talks to her everyday over the phone. The story is about how reality finally catches up with him, and how he finally wins her despite his shyness and diffidence.

What I like most about the movie is the characters that John hangs around with. We have this really really cute Pakistani sis-bro pair, played by the cute Alishka Varde( Jaane Tu fame) and a surprisingly good Raghu Ram( Roadies fame), who really support John in his misadventures and adventures alike. A lot of really amusing punchlines are delivered  by Raghu who weaves the Pakistani-Indian tiff very intelligently and comically into certain situations without being racial or fanatical in a single incident. Alishka's character has an added dimension to it coz she is 5months pregnant with her boyfriend's ( George Young) baby, yet refuses to get married to him in spite of his bizzare, theatrical and repeated attempts to convince her. Her dialogues are in Urdu and seem so poetic and lyrical. I must say she is fabulous to watch. And the character of John's already present girlfriend, played by Manasi Scott, adds another layer to the already complex situation.

In all, a very touching movie that gives a glimpse of these immigrants living in London and leading a life away from family but still enjoying each other's company and surviving on hope, joy and above all, love. I simply adore this movie......

Two of Deepti Naval's lesser known movies

I do not recall exactly how I came across Deepti Naval's blog. What I do remember is how I marveled at her versatility; actress, artist, photographer, traveler, philosopher. One of the earliest recollections of her is the TV serial "Thoda sa Aasaman", a Doordarshan serial I used to watch when I was a mere kid. Later, for perhaps her most popular role of "Miss Chamko" in "Chashme Baddoor". It is quite recently that I actually started to single out her movies and watch them for the sheer pleasure to see her act; what she does effortlessly, and most beautifully. Also, I never recollect her as a beautiful actress, but somehow, when I have started really looking at her, into her, she seems to me a very pretty lady, with an understated beauty, elegance, poise and ....her eyes.... that at once seem vulnerable yet strong and deep.

I was really taken in by her performance in "Memories in March". And the lady looks so damn pretty; the planes of her cheeks, her eyes, her lips.....wow!! But what I want to write about is two of her lesser known movies that I stumbled across quite recently on You Tube.

The first one is "Panchvati" directed by Basu Bhattacharya, starring her alongside Suresh Oberoi and Akbar Khan. She is introduced as an artist, who captures the essence of landscapes and mountains in her paintings. She hails from Nepal, and later, a lot of the scenes make use of Nepal's beautiful temples and picturesque mountains to show us her way of life, her parallel universe, her association with all things surreal and far removed from the material world she has to enter after she gets married to Akbar Khan, who is the younger brother of Suresh Oberoi, a successful businessman. Soon into the marriage, she realizes that her husband has no clue about her feelings, and she gets withdrawn into a cocoon of loneliness, despair and a desperate yearning to be understood. But what is shocking is that the only person who seems to be capable of doing that is her brother-in-law, played excellently by Suresh Oberoi. Oh...his baritone alone would make any girl fall for him.....and Deepti inadvertently falls for him, his brooding manner, his poetry and his equally lonely married life that has long ceased to exist with his rich and bratty wife. One day, in the middle of a big fight, Akbar Khan hits Deepti, and all semblance of bliss is shattered. She decides to leave the house and goes to Nepal, accompanied by Suresh, who goes to Kathmandu frequently on business. There, love finally blossoms between them, and they fall into each other and satiate their need for love and understanding. But reality is much harsher, therefore, Deepti goes away to stay with her Art teacher, a renowned Nepalese artist, and later gives birth to twin sons. Akbar Khan comes to reclaim them, thinking they are his, but Deepti patiently and firmly tells him that he is not their father, and they are hers only. A bold decision considering that now she is all alone. The character of Suresh realises that he needs to support her, but all he can do is buy her a place in Nepal, where, ages ago, Rama and Sita had resided, called "Panchvati".

Deepti's character is a troubled mix of yearning for love as well as a need to break free when she is smothered by that love. Her art pulls her through, and in the end, when she is pregnant, all she has is a paintbrush that her teacher had gifted her after her wedding. She wields that, to paint, to create, to dream, to escape and to live. Seeing her, we know, that no matter the despair and the loss of love, she has found her place in the world, her very own exile, her "Panchvati".

The second movie is even more off beat in the sense that considering it was an 80's movie, the theme of an extra marital affair seems to be dealt with quite maturely, without pandering to cheap gimmicks and overt sensationalism. Deepti is married to Suresh Oberoi( yes, again the same cast, yet the character of Suresh is quite the opposite in this movie), who is a very successful actor and they are in London for a shoot. Suresh the actor, is in every way the quintessential bratty "star" with a bloated ego and a very arrogant unprofessional approach to his work. Womanising is also one of his favorite hobbies, and although Deepti is aware of his promiscuous ways, she tries her best to maintain the semblance of marriage. While in London, she befriends a young Art student, played by Pradeep Varma( I confess I dont know who he is) and they get along as peas in a pod. After a while, a strong bond of attraction develops between them, and even though bound by custom, Deepti succumbs to her desire and they both become lovers. But soon, Deepti has to confront reality and choose between marriage and love.

What liked best about the movie is that they have used the backdrop of London to build Deepti and Pradeep's love. He drives a broken down car of some vintage make, and takes her to his cubbyhole of an apartment, filled with nude sketches of imaginary women, and they spend little blissful moments cooking small meals on his stove and making love ih his narrow single bed, getting cozy and nice and loving. Deepti, defying all trends, prefers to wear chiffon saris rather that the bell-bottoms she once wears, to Pradeep's amusement.How she braved London's cold in those flimsy silk sarees , I haver no clue. But the ending is really nice and apt. Here is a woman, well educated, well to do, empowered, so why cant she just give up the life that she is leading in the shadow of her actor husband, and seek love that another, much younger, less successful but loving man wants to give her. It is not a very profound tale, nonetheless, Deepti infuses a certain charm and depth to the character and we only applaud her for her final decision.

I'm going to see other movies of her, also read her short story collection, "Mad Tibetan". I'm in love.......

Campus Shots.....why I simply love NTU

     A recent transformation in life ....from being an RA in Dr.X's lab, to being a full time PhD student in Dr. Kline's lab, being part of Scelse, and most importantly, moving back to the campus.......

NTU, thou shall continue to heal me .....enthrall me, envelope me in your beauty.....a walk through your sylvan campus at twilight is so healing....its therapeutic literally.......one of the best things in life.......to be part of something so big, so serene, so beautiful, so peaceful.

All pics courtesy my Samsung SII.........many more such snapshots to come......

Ek Doctor Ki Maut

Thanks to a post I read of Jai Arjun Singh, I happened to see two of NFDC's movies that were released during the early eighties. One was Shyam Benegal's Suraj ka Satva Ghoda, and the other was Tapan Sinha's Ek Doctor Ki Maut. The former is an account of the raconteur played to perfection by Rajit Kapoor, who, in his debut role, portrayed the experiences of a young, hapless lover whose love gets jilted not once but thrice when his love for three girls( in three different stories) remains unrequited. Rajeshwari Sachdev, Pallavi Joshi and Neena Gupta portray the roles of the three girls, and each story, narrated by the hero to his eager friends who come flocking to his house to hear a fascinating tale based on jilted love,elicits a discussion on   love, as a reflection of the socio-economic status of the lovers. In each story, our hero is doomed from the beginning as he is one of the most passive lovers around. One of his friends, played by Raghubir Yadav, has an imagination that borders on paranoia.Whatever tales that he hears our hero narrating, he goes and dreams about the characters in the most grotesque and visually disturbing manner, so that his account of those same dreams is partly comic and partly macabre. At the end of it, some images from the hero's past come to haunt him and we are left with a sense of his failure to do anything worthwhile at all.

But the better of the two was the second movie, Ek Doctor Ki Maut. As a scientist, I think it completely enamored me to the doctor, played by the inimitable Pankaj Kapoor, whose trials and tribulations as a part time scientist on the quest to find a cure for leprosy, ultimately spelt doom for him.As far as my knowledge goes, this would have to be the only movie ever made in India, that gives you the inside view of how research goes on and what a scientist faces in terms of the struggle, the hard work, the disillusion, the high of new discovery, the pain of failure and....eventually how he needs to publish his paper to get his discovery projected to the outside world.

    Pankaj Kapoor, as the humble doctor turned scientist, with a passion for his research, is a delight to watch, and Shabana Azmi is simply brilliant as his long suffering wife, who initially craves his attention and feels completely left out because of the complete devotion to his work yet who eventually becomes his biggest support in his quest to get recognition for his work. The chemistry between the two is simply awesome, and they portray the ever changing pattern of love between two people who are together for such a long time that all they need to convey love is a smile, a nod, a look and yet remain madly in love with each other. Shabana, with her tear filled eyes, literally needs no dialogues to convey her thoughts, something I observed in another power packed performance in Arth.

     After ten long years of research, Dr Dipankar Roy finally discovers a vaccine for leprosy, which when innoculated into pregnant mothers, makes their child immune to the debilitating disease. His friend who is a science correspondent( played by the young Irfan Khan), writes about this in his newspaper and this starts an avalanche of criticism from all other doctors who simply find it unbelievable that a common average doctor like Dipankar, can do something so seminal and original. As he is a government Doctor, Dipankar cannot go ahead and publish his work without the government's approval. So begins a struggle in which Dipankar, who thought his lab was the world, now begins to see that the world is a much more difficult place and mere passion for work is not sufficient.

     Until the very end, we see a losing battle, and finally, someone else, a team from London, beats him to the  publication. But all Dipankar has to say is that finally, leprosy has been eradicated from the world. There are some great scenes in the movie which provide an insight into Dipankar's way of thought. The best one is , when he gets transferred to a village near Calcutta, and his wife comes to see him. He is sick, tired, overworked and lonely without his wife. Yet, he tells her, during a stroll on the beach, that at night, when he sees the stars shining, he thinks that they are mocking mankind that in the wide universe, there are so many umpteen mysteries to be solved, yet the only thing men on this planet do is find ways of fighting and backstabbing each other. We understand how his mind works, and later, when his wife is dusting his lab, she finds that in one of his notes, he has scribbled " So much to do, so little is done. Hurry up!" The smile on her face and the sadness in her eyes tell us that now, finally, she completely understands what her husband stands for. A must watch!!

Arranged marriage

Have a look at this. Will surely bring a smile on your face. Lovely short film.