My tryst with the ballot

The Lok Sabha elections going on in our country is undoubtedly a spectacle; people from all classes and walks of life are queuing up and in a sense surrendering a small part of their destinies to the numerous political parties and independent candidates. In doing so, they reaffirm their commitment to a democratic system where elected representatives decide policies and shape a nations' future.

On April 23, I joined the queue next street in Jayanagar, Bangalore to vote. Thankfully, the personnel outside the polling booth found my name on the electoral rolls and I was saved the ignominy of having to return empty handed without the indelible ink mark that has come to be reckoned as a mark of pride. Three cheers to Jaago Re, it was their hassle free and smooth process that had awakened me to the importance of voting and made the whole effort easier.

Having done by duty, I felt an immense sense of satisfaction though the road I was walking on showed every sign of the rain, the day before - the glaring lack of infrastructure serving to bring me back to reality.

This year, the election results might not be clearly favoring either of the two national parties as they have been for quite a few times now. It is all the more exciting to wait for the results and know who will be leading this country out of the harsh effects of the current economic recession. I can only hope that the mandate of the people is taken in the right spirit by all the parties and respected, though I know that it is a pretty tall ask in the current scenario!

Mission Kumara Parvatha - Sweet fruits of endurance

'If this is the stuff that adventures are made of, then what a dull life we are leading', this is how I felt after the trekking experience last weekend. At times, we tend to take certain things for granted - we feel that our bodies can take only so much. It is very heartening to be deceived by the levels of one's own endurance. When all it takes is a power of the will and the ability to think for the next 500 meters to 1 kilometer, then, it is amazing how far we can walk...

Santosh asked me if I could join for a trek to Kumara Parvatha (also called as Pushpagiri, as we realized later). If I agreed, then we were starting in the next two days. Considering that I had nothing great planned over the weekend (the inescapable question on every Monday morning - "How was your weekend?" - was already playing across my mind; of course some people use it as the ideal conversation opener on Mondays including yours truly), I agreed and we booked the tickets to Somvarpet at the KSRTC travel house.

The next day, some of us (Santosh, me, Amith, Shashank, Sandeep) met to decide on the logistics. We decided that apples, oranges, bread, bananas and sundry other snacks would be our food during the climb up and down. Santosh agreed to rent the tents and the sleeping bags necessary for the night atop the peak. I was a little anxious about how it would all play out as this was my first "proper" trek. In hindsight, I am delighted that I relied on my instincts!

On Friday night, I reached Banashankari bus terminus and waited for Santosh and Vinay to join. Together, we reached KBS at around 10 PM to find Shashank, Amith, Sandeep, Gilson and Krishna Prasad already waiting for us. The bus was scheduled to depart at 11. After checking if we had got all the necessary things for the journey ahead, we got into the KSRTC Rajahamsa. Once inside, Gilson and Shashank took out their cameras and took some trial snaps. Comments on how the cameras should be set flew thick and fast.

Occasionally in life, one comes across people who are united by a common bond that threads them together and not always it happens that, people hit off with each other, with a sincerity and warmth, that is genuinely true. I am thankful that the folks I got to know through the course of the next 2 days were not only avid adventurers but also great companions. At 5 in the morning, we alighted at Somvarpet. It was a pleasant morning that greeted us after a good night's sleep despite the shockingly poor roads.

The primitive facilities in the bus terminus helped us refresh. A breakfast of Idlis followed. On inquiry, we were told that Bhagya Lakshmi would be the first to leave for Bidalli. Make no mistake, that was the name of the bus. As an aside, the fairer sex has an unfair advantage when it comes to names. Everything that is life giving, majestic and awe-inspiring gets the feminine gender... Bhagya Lakshmi was simple and comfortable enough for Shashank to sleep through the small journey. The greenery started to unfold before our eyes as the Sun found its way slowly and surely.

At the road leading to Kumara Parvatha, we got down and contemplated the journey ahead. Our watches showed 8.30 AM. One other group of trekkers accompanied us a little ahead throughout. Initially, till the forest check post to be precise, it was all plains with a scattering of villages. A winding road took us up to a point where if we had not observed, we would have missed the shorter route to the check post. Guided by villagers, we crossed paddy fields and were struck by the bemused gazes that the sleeping bags got. Firewood-hunting-women, men walking with an air of calm determination, kids running around and young girls carrying water gave the impression of a place at peace and harmony with itself and its beautiful surroundings...

After a walk of around an hour and a half we spotted the forest office. We paid 115 per head to continue. It was decided that a second breakfast of fruits would do us no harm. The area was scenic with a swinging bridge and a stream that ran underneath. Gilson's water can was much appreciated for its potential utility. At a few minutes to 11, we resumed. A forest of tall tress that filtered the sunlight provided good cover for the walk shielding us from the heat. For all its density, the only sounds that we could hear were our own footsteps disturbing the slightly wet leaves.

The picture that comes to mind, when we think of travelers, is that of men with backpacks marching in a line towards a hazily defined destination (perhaps to emphasize the significance of रास्ते over मंजिल?) with the sun shining overhead. We were potentially fodder for such a picture with the sleeping bags adding a comic touch. Though the day ahead loomed large, it was alluring with its rare possibilities fit to be preserved for posterity. Leeches - literally, those blood sucking insects - started to show their presence very strongly. We had to stop often to take the much required breaks to quench our thirst buds and attend to them.

Yellow boards and the red and yellow arrows served as our guides. They were motivating and egged us on. At half past twelve, we had a lunch of bread. Amith had green chutney that tasted divine with the bread slices. The dry fruits Shashank had brought was also widely appreciated. When too much of rest threatened to loosen the limbs, we felt prudent to continue. The terrain was becoming more expansive with the Sun getting a wider berth.

The beauty of a trek is that it offers little respite for dreamers. When you are climbing, it is imperative for the climber to stay focused on the present and enjoy the moment. There is a choice less awareness that is at once natural and beautiful enough to be ignored. Sensory pleasures are transient; it is the camera that preserves a moment in all its glory and candor. The journey provided ample opportunities for Gilson and Shashank to see nature through the lens of technology; shape it, alter it, bring it closer and above all take pleasure in following its every twist and turn!

As the climb got tedious with the rocks seeming insurmountable as they always are, when the end is near, glucose helped us going. Vinay with his sharp wit, Santosh with his "never say die" spirit, Shashank with his booming laugh, KP with his tone and manner, Amith with his elegance and style, Sandeep with a restrained charm and Gilson in his manner of addressing us with the water can - I would be very pithy if I say, the group was drawing energy from itself. The sight of Pushpagiri - 0 KM sent us into waves of sheer joy and relief.

For some time, we were confused if Kumara Parvatha and Pushpagiri were one and the same. Thankfully, we decided against trekking to the next peak on our side though 2 young people waved at us from there. At nearly 1800 meters from the sea level, the view grew on us. At first, we were oblivious in our tiredness. Our limbs needed rest; the sleeping bags were unwound and spread in the 4 o clock Sunshine.

Before it got dark, we had to pitch the tents. Doing it the first time, with Shashank's guidance, we somehow managed to make them appear like tents in the end with a lot of funny consequences. Once they threatened to fly despite our best efforts for the wind was gathering speed. Chillness spread and we had to take out the warmer clothing. Some of us found an amazing view of the depths below. There was nothing but a brown spread with trees interspersed. We were dwarfed by the sight.

Unexpectedly, clouds began to gather around us. We realized that we had left the tents quite open to the winds and hence shifted them. The clouds so close to us, as they came together to shake hands and departed quickly in a forced farewell was quite a sight to behold. Rain drops grazed our clothes and we moved inside the tents much earlier than we would have wanted to. Inside, we soon realized that 2 tents, of the size that we had got, were not enough for 8 guys to sleep comfortably. Rain seeped inside thanks to a most inappropriate hole in the roof of the tent; we tried to cover it with partial success.

Cramped inside, we cracked jokes, called out to each other like little children, listened to pleasant music and all the while enjoyed the delicate rain. In the darkness later, we stepped out for quick bites of bread in the artificial light of the torches and a natural but weak moonlight. Before I realized, I was sleeping only to be woken up by Sandeep who came in at 2.30 AM as rain had started again. Sandeep and Gilson had been quite literally braving the dark by sleeping just outside the tent till then.

The night drag on with the rain stopping abruptly just when we were getting a little worried. Dawn was crystal clear and we stepped out to catch the sun rise. From looking like a bright red round ball, it slowly shed its brightness to emerge lighter finally. The land below was catching light as eagerly as a thirsty man would take to water. The whole aspect of it lent a glow of surreal quality that it was hard to believe that dreams were, well and truly, shaken.

We gathered the tents and sleeping bags, looked at the spot for one last time and with a lighter load on our backs, but with relatively heavier hearts started our way back. This was a different path leading to Subramanya. 14 kms looked daunting but the day before was enough encouragement. The initial steep climb down scared us a little and we were markedly cautious. To abandon oneself to the instincts, to shift the weight of the body from one limb to the other fairly quickly during the climb down, was more challenging.

There was one advantage however. As we had started quite early, we were able to cover sufficient ground before the sun grew menacing. The views were also increasingly breathtaking making for some enviable camera angles. At one point in time, Gilson and Shashank grew so click-eager and thanks to them for the beautiful pictures that we have now. Vinay even remarked that growing too engrossed in looking for the next safe step down, we should not be missing all the great views around.

This path down was very open to the sunlight with barely any trees. We were walking along the circumference of the peaks, climbing one partially now, only to be descending again on its other side. Carrying less weight on our backs helped us cover ground quickly. We sighted the Mandapam and close to it was a fresh water tank where we washed our faces and stopped for breakfast. It was apples, oranges and biscuits with water to wash them down. With a resolve to stop only at the forest post, we resumed.

From there, it required a huge resolve to navigate the terrain. It was unforgiving with its surprises and it demanded that we be equal to the task. We fixed our sights on a set of chairs that were attractive only to later realize with some gravity that they were really quite far. When we did manage to reach them, Vinay had communicated his desire to have hot Sambar rice at 'Bhattar Mane' where we were head.

Guided by the only person manning the forest check post on this path, we entered 'Bhattar Mane', tired and exhausted. We were told to wait for an hour for food. We spent it chatting away pointlessly and discussing the house's location in the midst of nature with a cow and a young calf adding to the attraction. The lunch was most welcome with a tasty pickle and butter milk. The Bhattar though hesitant in the beginning, on repeated request posed for a picture with us. He found it hard to fathom why its always the "IT" folks from Bangalore choose this trek. Perhaps out of an inclination to stay in touch with the ever dwindling presence of nature in the concrete jungles?

Immediately after lunch, with the hope of catching the 3 o clock direct bus to Bangalore, we resumed the climb down. It was most grueling to find that the last part of the journey is always the toughest or at least it seems so. We were sweating badly in the afternoon Sun and hence the frequency of breaks increased together with the consumption of water. At the same time, we felt thankful to Santosh for such an experience. Eventually we reached Subramanya and took an auto to the bus stand. From there, we took a bus to Gundya cross in the hope of catching a Bangalore bus.

If Gilson and Krisha had not jumped out through the windows of that bus, I can't imagine how we would have got out thanks to the whims of the driver who stopped the engine whenever he saw a hand wave. Another red KSRTC bus to Bangalore meant no respite for the tired limbs...Sleeping through the journey, I half listened to Santosh recounting his experiences during the Sankleshpur trek and Gilson and Krishna, their Ooty adventures. I won't forget the next day at office when every muscle in the leg cried but the heart brimmed with pride and joy at having conquered the peak of Karnataka's toughest trekking terrain!

A day beautifully spent!

Some days are memorable, some forgettable, some transcend these simple categorisations and enter a different realm altogether. There are days when everything seems oddly poetic; something nearing perfection and exceeding expectations that, whoever one talks to and whatever one does, begins to get tinged with a touch of rare and simple beauty. Today was one such day...

Gopal had invited us to his house opposite the BTM lake. It was nothing formal; just the promises of Samosas and an evening of boating. I went a little early to find him shopping for curd and milk. I found his cook getting ready to prepare some Samosas. We talked about work for a while and just when it was getting boring, Niranjan, Saurabh, Rupesh and Devesh joined us.

A simple bachleor's dwelling, the place gave the feel of a maturing gentleman's abode. We received the head cook who gave precious culinary instructions before disappearing. Once the cook left, We attacked the Kitchen with a zeal, that is characteristic of gaining some understanding of a place, that holds much charm in its simplicity.


Saurabh and Gopal set about preparing more Samosas while eveybody wanted to pose either stirring the oil in the pan or peeling the onions. It is the tender joy of accomplishment that is seen in the smiles here. Rupesh explored the PC for songs and movies. We even attempted to dance funnily for the RDB track unable to restrain ourselves.

For lunch we had the traditional north Indian dish - Kadhi - with a mixture of potato, onion and tomato. The papad and Aam ka Achar were the other delicacies! All along, khatta-meetha, a movie that had dollops of humor and warmth was the entertainer. It made us realize that, there is a yearning within us for such movies which sadly, are not made anymore.

When we were drifting to sleep, the movie ended and we had the forgotten dessert - Gulab Jamuns. When we stepped out, a cloudy evening greeted us and the BTM park close to the lake was getting its evening visitors - the young and the restless crowd looking for some semblance of nature in a concrete jungle. The water wasn't clean and throughout the boat ride, the conversation centred around how couples try to steal moments of privacy in parks. There was much teasing and good hearted humor. It was a saturday spent in a most lovely fashion and one that, I'll remember for a long time.

Indeed, days, when nothing but happiness and a sense of camaraderie and bonhmie prevail - they are a rarity in an age of competitive oneupmanship.

Reflections on the closure of Premier bookshop

I came to know that Premier book shop has closed in Bangalore through this article in THE HINDU magazine by Ramachandra Guha. Having written about the shop earlier and having been there many a time after learning about it, I feel that it’s a loss for all book lovers in Bangalore.

The clutter and the disorder evident at the outset, as one entered that shop and the sheer variety of books within that space will always stay with me. Like an addiction one gets used to, I have felt that time and space lose all meaning inside a good bookshop.

Book lovers are a breed fast disappearing due to new age distractions in the form of Internet and an excessive focus on other supposedly more rewarding hobbies. To be able to browse through old and new books in all their imposing glory, at leisure, is a delight that sadly a dwindling number of youth understand today. It has become fashionable and indeed in some cases consequently respectable to pronounce the possession of the latest best seller.

As a hobby, reading has exposed me to worlds far and near, emotions inexplicable and strangely unfathomable, it has helped me understand myself better and expanded my heart to accommodate and grasp the feelings of my fellow human beings. When one reads about the tragedies of the poverty-stricken, the grief of the estranged, the joy of the adventurer, the passion and longing of the lovers, one has to admit that there is a sense of the broadening of the spirit; a vision of the shackles destroyed and conquered.

If such is the joy experienced by an ardent lover of books, imagine the happiness, a person like Mr. TS Shanbhag would have felt loving his shop with such fervor and facilitating the transfer of nuggets of Wisdom to the ownership of a largely appreciating bunch of people.

Delhi 6 - A colorfully smart entertainer!

Delhi - 6 - After what seemed an interminable wait once the trailors and music were released, I finally saw the movie yesterday. At the outset, I declare that this has spoilers. Though touted to be shot in Delhi, a huge set was evidently used and the result is quite mixed. We are taken to a place where there is some kind of a time warp, especially as it is very close to the national capital. Rickshaws, cows, horses and vintage cars - this is what the scene is like and its a little hard to believe especially as the effort seems to be directed towards making all modern transportation non-existent.

The first half of the movie is an introduction of numerous characters and much of the effort goes in establishing how they interplay in a small locality. A money lender, a Muslim sweetshop owner, a family divided by a wall (Om Puri and Pawan Malhotra on either side), a photographer, a mysterious monkey man, two mischievous kids, a low caste garbage collector and an ambitious Bittu (Sonam Kapoor) - they joke, discuss the monkey man and go to see the Ram Lila with their Muslim neighbors. Roshan (Abhishek) arrives with his grandmother to this locality. He is frustrated in the beginning, gradually is drawn to the people and falls in love with Bittu in a subtly sublime fashion and with the place as a whole as circumstances pan out.The setting is complete for the second half.

The cinematography by Binod Pradhan is very good. One gets to see the numerous bylanes with sweet shops, cricket-playing kids, colorful people, the temple and the mosque -they showcase the diversity in a simple and convincing manner. The music is one of the best works of AR Rahman. The Mozart of Madras displays his versatility and even gets behind the mike for a number. The songs are already big hits with 'Masakali' and 'Maula', being my favorites. Kailash Kher and Javed Ali make the latter even more memorable. The lyrics by Prasoon Joshi are again different and innovative. 'Hey kala kala kala bandar/Bahar hai ya andar...Aao Hum shisha dekhe/Apna sandesha dekhe/Apna Ghayal Hissa dekhe/Apna asli kissa dekhe', 'Tujhe badalna na chahoon/Rati bhar bhi sanam/Bina sajawat milawat/Na jyaada na hi kaam' go the lines and they are riveting.

Social messages are conveyed throughout the movie. The struggle between superstition and modernity exemplified by the rumors of monkey man and the launch of Chandrayan, the bane of untouchability in the 21st century and the shame of forced marriages in an age when women are shattering all ceilings - this is where the movie scores high. A lot of characters at times serve to veer away the focus. Abhishek is just good and Sonam has a very good presence whenever she gets the chance.Atul Kulkarni is wasted for his potential.

In the second half, a small spark ignites a communal flare-up in the peaceful and colorful locality. The warmth is suddenly lost and suspicions abound. This shows how tensions and animosity need only a small flame to feed on. Politicians exploit the divide to gain. Things seem head for a disastrous end. Roshan explains the metaphor of Monkey Man which is all the movie is about. He nevertheless falls a victim to the unreasonable anger of the people when he saves Bittu and professes his love.

This is a movie that tries to pack a lot of things together, but ultimately leaves the viewer with some good messages to carry home. It is certainly not as good as Rang De Basanti; that doesn't mean that it should be missed. Watch it without RDB expectations and come out with a better understanding of the Kaleidoscope that is our country and the fickle and prejudiced nature that is mankind!

On Love, Culture, feminism and Valentine’s Day

The question of whether Valentine’s Day is a western import is irrelevant as we embrace globalization. The very meaning of the word “Globalization” says that it is the process of transformation of local or regional phenomena into global ones. When love, something as universal as love is involved, then without doubt, the pace of transformation would be quick.

To say that it is against our “culture”- referring to the “Indian culture” here- is ridiculous. As is the question, why do we need Feb 14 to proclaim love? Nobody said, declare your love or express your love only on one particular day. Each and every day, humanity is assaulted by a whole gamut of feelings. We struggle to come to terms with the assault. We need time to understand our feelings for each other and why we feel what we feel… Often enough, we don’t express what we feel. Some things hold us back, we are caught up in a vortex of emotions that compartmentalizing is difficult.

Come Feb 14, some of us realize that we should proclaim our love. There is nothing harmful in it. Of course, greeting cards, gifts and associated paraphernalia are deemed necessary by advertisers, media and sundry other influences. If one narrowly defines love as something that exists between a man and a woman with sexual connotations, as some sections of the society do, then, there are all the ingredients for a scrimmage.

When a pub in Mangalore was singled out for demonstration of a “confused” and “warped” mindset, the perpetrators of violent lessons wanted to make a point - That going to pubs was not a woman’s business. If they had beaten up men too, they’d have done themselves some good. Instead, references were made to Indian culture as if culture is a static entity that is immune to change. Also at stake was the “right” as adults that Women can exercise. If one leaves aside the question of whether ‘drinking and having fun in a pub’ is good or bad, and focuses instead on the question of whether ‘violence as a weapon of expression of disapproval in a democracy with defined fundamental rights’ is acceptable, the answer is obvious.

Feminism is the belief that women have equal political, social, sexual, intellectual and economic rights to men. It is not about women being able to do whatever men can or some such crap. In a world where “physical power” is increasingly unnecessary with the advent and evolution of machines, this belief holds more water. To single out one half of the population and preach morality is akin to having “Manu Smriti” as the reference for freedom of women which is very debatable.

The SRS and its chief have now received more than their deserved share of media coverage for confusing all the above issues and threatening to marry off couples on Valentine’s Day. To remain silent is to have acquiesced and moved on. To say that they are wrong and that people who wish to celebrate are free to do so amounts to standing up for these rights – Right to equality and Right to freedom. To elaborate, the state cannot discriminate against a citizen on the basis of sex; there is freedom of speech and expression and freedom to assemble peacefully without arms.

That is precisely what we did on Feb 14 – When a small group of Bloggers and socially-conscious men and women, gathered with placards to spread simple messages. Messages that said “Free hugs” and “Wish you a fear free society”, simple but universally capable of striking a chord.

What we got in the beginning was curious glances, smiles and expressions of surprise. As time wore on, people came to us and spoke about what they felt. ”Why are you doing this”? “Good work” and “Happy Valentine’s day” encouraged us. “Can I hug you?” and “I need a hug” served to prove that human nature is made up, more of love and less of hate. That is why, perhaps the wheels of the World continue to grind and “good” continues to “triumph” over evil. It is a matter of “cruel’ time before this simple realization dawns everywhere.

A letter written in delirium…

Friend,

The time has come for our ways to part.
The road has taken a cruel turn and fate
has played its dreadful game…

Some memories are wrapped in gold.
So fragile and innocent they are, so vibrant
and brimming with life and energy, that a
faint tickle runs down my spine as I think
about our first meeting…

Your delightful mien and endearing smile, a
thousand fairies would envy. Your graceful
walk and beautifully large eyes – an elixir of
happiness to many a tired soul…

The times we spent together, the evenings bathed in
the light of the setting Sun and the mornings shrouded
in wintry dew - if the soul can wear a hat and dance in
the rain, if it can proclaim loud, the joy and ecstasy of
being alive, it would have danced and cried, a hundred times…

The good natured conversations, the innocuous teasing…
Of the dusk lost in faraway worlds, of the dawn breaking
Out ever so pleasant… it is in your presence that I drank goodness
and realized the face of beauty.

As you go your separate way, you leave me richer
and pure - Cleansed of impurity and harm, it’s something
akin to bliss where Gods seem near and every hurdle, a feather.
Every step you take, every object you grace, peace descends and
Joy Prevails.

--Siva.