Abode of God

I won't say that I never prayed. I prayed, very earnestly and very hard at times. Mostly in difficult times and they were plenty and really, really hard for one to go through. But even in those desperate moments, I was always unsure of, to who was I praying to and where my prayers were reaching? They were in real, my efforts to realign my shattering soul to bring some semblance to my very being, and not for that unknown, unseen power above or the so-called almighty! Again I might have prayed in the early ages when I was naive and did not understand the concept of God, but in the years to come when I started groping in the adult world with tiny steps to start with I always doubted the concept of God.

And thus abode of God! A place I always detested to visit to meet God

I have visited many temples, mosques and Churches. 
In fact in Europe if you take a conducted tour it's nothing but Churches, Cathedrals or Chapels all 'C's with some 'Convent' s or 'Castle' s thrown in for a change. The absence of sound in these places did not give me solitude but made me aware of my loneliness. The silence in the sanctum was/is just too much for someone like me, brought up in noisy Hindu culture, to absorb and then like it! I am always so bogged down by that eerie soundless ambience in these abodes of God that I feel scared, even to make the slightest whisper of a prayer. Maybe, he never was my saviour due to my faith, but always felt him to be distant and aloof, who might just not be staying there, in those heavily ornated, splendorously sculptured pieces of excellent architecture to listen to your unsaid prayers, as he always was the God of downtrodden who have nothing, 

Visited two great mosques. Blue Mosque and Hagia Sophia. Both in Istanbul. Similar in designs architecturally both are beauty for the eyes. Sophia, in fact, was built as a church to start with but was converted into a mosque during the Ottoman regime. So from 537 AD to 1453 AD, it was abode to Christian  God.  In1453,  after it was taken over by Mehmed II, it was converted into a mosque so became abode to Islamic God. When winds of liberalization blew over Turkey under Attaturk it was converted into a museum and then it ceased to be the abode of God! Thus the same building became abode to different Gods when the realms changed. Blue mosque is simply a wonder, built in turquoise blue tiles, it's number one tourist attraction of Istanbul, so always overcrowded, and the crowd takes you away from God!

Though named similarly but vastly different in architecture Blue mosque in Kualalumpur is really a place where you feel you may meet God. Though having a huge praying hall, though being always crowded you neither have cacophony like in Hindu temples nor Pin drop scary silence of churches. You have humanity thronging the place but everybody just bows down to, well nothing in front and tries to connect directly with God!  Through the prayers without any mediator! Isn't it the way one would like to have an equation with God!

Buddhist Wats in Thailand are pieces of architectural wonders but show the vanity of kings who built them. If they are decorated with Gold films from top to bottom how could  God, possibly be residing in them and be the God of poor, who outnumber the haves. If God asks you to bring in a gold leaf to fulfil your wish, you better be poor than to bow down to [Gold thirsty ? ] God, who in all probability must not be living in such abodes.

At Rishikesh on River Ganges, on the other side of Laxman Zula, there are so many,  really so many temples from this small to huge 13 storied temple 'palaces', that it seems as if there is an entire city built for Gods to live according to their stature and affordability!  On a personal level, in my belief, Hindu Gods have deserted their abodes many eras ago. In spite of singing prayers in utmost voices, in spite of beating drums and bongos in full ear splitting thumping thunders, maybe, it's to call them back, they don't seem to answer the prayers of their disciples. Either, they have gone deaf or they just have left their biggest abode, India ! See her condition now! 

Huge religious structures do not have God residing in them, a small heart, filled with love and kindness is sufficient! In fact, they dwarf the human, the very creation of God [?]! In reality, it is the vacuous pride of its creators who want to show to the world, how pious they are! And how Great 'They' are by serving humanity, in the bracket !   

On the contrary, I feel as the man himself is the creator of God, it's natural that he wants his God to reside in these posh abodes, which he himself dreams of! In this case, it's definitely not, 'More the merrier !'

Pink and More

Does the storm created by 'Pink' stop when the film ends. ? The answer is so obvious, No, on the contrary, it starts with more vengeance. Have we changed or are we in that space where everything is still blurred? An advertisement presently running on TV shows a small girl cutting her long hair in earnest to be like a boy and wants to wear boys' clothes so that with boy cut and boys' clothes she can continue her schooling. The line, in the end, tells us glaringly that 20 million girls are still deprived of any education forget higher, even primary! And we are disturbed, by the plight of three urbane girls who 'ARE' living their lives on their terms, at least somewhat. Not to undermine their plight but the situation is much much graver and Pink must be given credit at least to broach the topic where Woman and woman herself owns her body and self and nobody has any right to have anything do with her, whether it be work, sex or mental abuse, beyond that unmarked unseen line, her consent! Including her husband! Good point!

Imagine the same scenario happening say first 60 and then 30 years ago. In Films categorically. Amitabh in his baritone voice asking a 'Girl ','Are you Virgin ?' Crystal clear, straight forward, blunt and to the point! Girl in the docks hesitates for a moment but comes out clean nonchalantly albeit in lower volume, but yes, affirmatively.  And we don't cringe. We still are on the girl's side.   

Now imagine the same question being asked in the 1950s [ absolutely unthinkable]  by Late Prithwiraj Kapoor to demure shaking Madhubala in the docks. Or maybe later in the 1970s by Late Ashokumar to Sharmila Tagore again in the docks, but shaking demurely, bit[ or too much] put on act for even frontbencher to make out,  flashing her well-painted eyes and lashes. Would our reactions have been the same?

In my father's generation when Prithwiraj Kapoor with Karan Diwan and Surendra ruled the roost, though Heroine had a past, it was never her doing. It was forced on her, it was a mistake and but nonetheless, it was a blemish on her character, for which she had to suffer throughout her entire life.. Why the films, it was the rule in the society, of the society then. The very progressive newspaper started none other than by Hon. Lokmanya Tilak too discussed on front pages whether women should stick to 9 yards saris, they then were using in Maharashtra or change to 6 yards without the central parting! It even doubted the morality of those who did so! Dainik Kesari,  of all the papers !!

The 70s onwards the things changed for the films and for society too. But virginity still was considered as a gift,  mostly to husband and that too after the wedding, on the first night only! Premarital sex even with the beau was looked down upon! Zeenat Aman and Parveen Babi changed the scenario no doubt, but mostly superficially. Though coming from a low moral stratum of the society [ On the screen, mostly moles of villain ]  they almost always had heart of gold and they were doing it out of some compulsion, [ educating siblings in a fatherless home, being the prime ] and none said openly that, 'I wanted to do it so I did it, period, hell with the world !' Only one character said so, Sonia Sahani in Darpan but she was shown a HARLOT so she could get away with it, but not Waheeda Rehman the heroine, who too had a past so kept on weeping for her misendevour throughout the life of the movie!

And now here we are. We have come a long way from ' Wear Punjabi dress, at least it covers the entire body' to ' I want to keep my shoulders bare and that's my choice Babi !' Liberation, the freedom I hate to say but, 'Womanicipation !' But is it a true picture of emancipation or tip of the iceberg for urban/ urbane higher middle class moneyed class topping the peak of an iceberg and more than 90% mostly below the water, are still picking up the cow dung to plaster the walls ?! So I said Pink has not given the answer it has started a storm! One has to ride it!

Right to Know and Right to [say] No. Pink

It almost took thirty years for Bollywood to take inspiration from 1988 Hollywood film, 'The Accused', for which the protagonist actor, Jodie Foster got the coveted Oscar! The original was based on a true story that happened way back in 1983 and the trial had attracted huge attention in U.S. of A that catapulted in the making of The Accused'. It's pathetic that in 2016 Delhi, the things are just the same or should I call even worse!

Average working woman Sarah Tobias [Jodie Foster] dressed provocatively enters a shoddy bar to get away from her mundane but mostly complicated personal life, her boyfriend being a drug dealer! In gay abandon after a peg or two, she dances provocatively,? that ends in her brutal rape by three while the others who do not get a 'chance' cheer them to 'show' her! Rejected by the system, dejected Sarah's guardian angel comes in the form of Deputy DA, Kathryn Murphy. But not without unsympathetic hurdles on the way due to personal mental blocks of DA. Ultimately after seeing the devastation Sarah had to go through she fights back, starting from her bosses, the society in general and lastly in the court of justice asking the too pertinent question,' But she said "NO" then why ?'
I had seen the movie for Jodie Foster's mind disturbing performance way back in 1989, maybe on video as it was not screened in India with its soul in entirety. And the epitome of sentences lingered in my mind for years to come, 'But she said 'No'!

In 'Pink' the same question Amitabh asks in his concluding speech, 'The word 'No' is so self-explanatory that there is no second answer to it. '
I am not going to divulge the story, go and watch it yourself, but am going to highlight certain points of the movie.
What three genext South Delhi girls, sharing an apartment, pay for what they are, is the crux of the story. Urban and urbane, though economically independent, existentially middle-middle class, aspiring for more money, always, for various reasons, set out for a 'Throw the care to the air' evening at some Rock concert. And the trouble starts. Even today, even in cities like Mumbai, Pune, Chennai or Bengaluru, it's a done thing, if you go for Sawai Gandharva or any such classical music concert and come home by early morning, on the contrary, it's an outing to be taken in pride but if you attend a rock concert, immediately you are tagged and labelling does not stop there it goes on and on. A peg of whiskey or even a glass of wine adds to your kitty and makes you a harlot the very next moment. The same men who want to bed such 'Loose' girls become extremely outrageous if their sisters do the same. Amitabh in his superlative performance, after two duds, Vazir and Teen, towers above, what the screenplay has asked him to deliver. Totally convincing he [ writer] has put forth the lacunae in today's India still having her feudal mindset kicking and alive. High time we come out of it.  

What he does not say is more perplexing. The one who has the maximum right to one's own self, whether body or mind is, one himself/herself, nobody else has any right to possess you in whatever way they can! If you fail to say 'No', the state of exploitation starts then and there itself!
On every walk of life, practically for everybody, there comes a situation where a simple' No' would suffice and settle the matters for good, but people hesitate and the rigmarole starts! You have the right to say 'No', at the right juncture whether it's sex, work or mental abuse, execute it and you would be saved off a lot more!

Traveler with a past !

Damn bored. Since early morning clock, as if had gone on strike. Time had just stood still. Could not bear more by 4 /4.30, took out the bicycle and rode off. Though 4 years old still looks brand new. I myself had overhauled it 2 days back, so the ride was just flight on the air. The road was crowded. On top of it, Laxmi Road was closed. Shit! Took Kumthekar road to Alka Talkies chowk. What a sculpture. That lass carrying water on her head was evergreen youth personified. Always fresh, always young. One shameless crow was quenching his thirst parching on her super slim waist. You scoundrel, Felt jealous! Lakdi pul under repairs. It's a nightmare to cross it. Literally pushed the bicycle till ' Khanduji baba ' square. Of course, it's not a square but what a 'Name'? Could not they find something better like Leena Chandavarkar or Rakhi Biswas? Nowadays nobody is bothered about the aspirations of the youth, you know! Pandu was as if glued to his position. Not allowing the traffic to move. After well nigh 15 minutes probably he too was bored so changed his hands. Now with a good speed I have to reach 'Good Luck' I said to myself but that was not to happen. Saw Manisha Ray near Swastik. Waved to her. She waved back shouting 'Hey Wait' Had to. No go! She blah blahed for 15 minutes continuously, or was it 20, do not even remember what it was all about! One lass was passing on the opposite footpath clad in flashy lungi! To stop her blabber, said' Let's have a Coke' Entered Moti Mahal, damn hot and humid, but couldn't help. She ventured to pay the bill, Why bother, 'Pay 'I said dryly! Bed adieu and myself on the bike again. Saw usual gang near Lucky. But nobody I knew. Mak was to be there but was not. Must have gone out to look for the chicks. Saw Sachin near 'Good Luck' was returning from the cricket practice probably, but you don't miss him, after all, he is Sachin! Now 'it should have been 'Good Luck' corner but no, it;'s some 'Gokhale Square'.P. L. has aptly pointed out, anybody from politician to village ruffian is there but never an apt name! Turned towards 'Natraj'. One posh ' model' was crossing the road. But something had gone wrong with her nose. Needed to be little sharper. 'Natraj' was still screening 'Donhi Gharcha Pahuna', I had liked it. On the corner crossed paths with a double-decker. It reminded of a full-term, would-be mother with a waddling gait!

Junglee Maharaj Road! 80 Feet road, what a grandeur at one time, not that it is lost now but these road romeos[ Not me !] have turned it into double Brun with Muska! 'Berkeley ' ad showed 'Vishwajeet' with a crooked nose, probably all segments did not align properly. Good riddance, I don't like Vishwajeet..... And I misjudged. 4 number was approaching the stop fast and I was caught between the bus and the footpath. Thousand cusses.  Hardly any girl worth a watch, on the road. God knows, the parents must have locked them safely in Godrej. Had a cursory round of Bal Gandharva. Cafeteria closed. What rubbish, plan to have  Batata Vada, of course, went kaput! P L 's 'Wat Wat' is slated, must watch. Will have to come early, maybe 6 in the morning, otherwise, no tickets. Queen of Jhansi looked lusterless, maybe my lookout!

100 feet road by the riverside. What a road what a ride! Full with potholes. Never know when you are on the seat or in the air! Double seat offender must be made to take 50 laps, god forbid he would not ride, why double seat, single-seat again!

Maha! Nagar !! Palika !!! Pune Corporation. all words vacuous. Turned towards Sangam Bridge. Actually, it's 'No Entry' Looked around nobody in Khaki! The stench was nauseating. After 'Panshet' river has ceased to be a river and has become nullah! Sharp whistle. Two Pandus at the end of the road. Smart alecs. Took 'U' and retraced, what to do! The new bridge, what's the name ? 'Trimbakji Dengale' bridge. What a novel ' Zep' [Flight with Zest]   on Trimbakji by N S Inamdar. He definitely made people to take cognizance of Trimbakji otherwise who would have named a bridge after him! But the road is so smooth, what a ride on the bike !

Took a turn towards the station on Kennedy bridge. 'Alankar' is showing "Caravan' solid songs. Must watch. Chendya would be a good company. Should ask him. BJ was visible across the yards.

Station, Pune station. Still feel lost, whenever I come. It is human bazaar. People are traded. Some are sold some are bought. Without a tag. Many a time dime a dozen! I become so small in that crowd, practically lost! Faces and faces, everywhere around you but none that you know, that you relate to! This is Pune, In Maharashtra, In India on earth of our sun, so many such suns, with their innumerable galaxies, with their own innumerable earth, and this human bazaar flourished in some obscure corner of this universe, prospered but yet tiny very very tiny almost unaccountable! Yet each one moves with the same rhythm, fight petty battles, cry on loss, elate on so-called achievements, and pretend that they have conquered, what exactly nobody knows! Their defeat is limited their win is limited, their joys are limited so are their sorrows. In fact, their 'Universe' is limited, it's just for them. 

With a heavy heart, I just managed a quick ride back home, through the by lanes of Rasta, Raviwar and Kasba Peth. 'Once magnificent' Shaniwar Wada has now just become pathetic relics of the past. Sad!

After a ride of 3 to 3 and a half hours, I just was trying to put it on the stands and there this bicycle came down heavily, crashing on my legs. I shouted in pain. Mother came rushing from the kitchen and lifted me from the floor with the utmost care and caressing my polio afflicted legs she said in a silken smooth voice.

"Why did you try to stand again, it's not a done thing. It puts strain on your legs. Wait, let me put you back in the bed !"

Ray of Sunshine

She barged her way in our lives by sheer accident. But a very sweet and desirable one. After our firstborn, we had decided not to have the second one, but somewhere some things went haywire and she gate crashed into the family, a gatecrasher who was more than welcome!

My son would not like floodlights on him or his persona but, maybe, I feel, my daughter won't mind, letting out my innermost feelings about her for everyone to know. She has been that extrovert right from the beginning in a very positive way.

We had gone for mostly routine sonography and there she was flirting with life cosily in a warm environment. That tiny little heart pulsating full with life took our breaths away and we instantly fell in love with that tiny life. At that juncture, we didn't even know, whether that heart was his or her! In due course it turned out, that the heart full with vibrant zest for life belonged to her, Saana, our little brat princess!

She entered this and our world with so many positive vibes that, from the hospital, just across the road, she came home in a car, our first one! Prosperity entered through the front door along with, her tiny feet! Chubby and cherubic right from the day one, by the time she became 5 or 6 months old, she was absolutely 'well rounded'! Her nose was buried in her big cheeks and her neck was just not visible, so we nicknamed her 'GaDiMa' after the famous Marathi poet, of course affectionately! At around the same time through somebody, I don't remember whom, she was invited for the photoshoot for 'Johnson' baby. Well known photographer of those days, Shantanu Shevade, whom, famous film star Kimi Katkar was married to, was to do the shoot. She was just supposed to sit on a well-cushioned sofa and do some blah blah. This lady by that time was so 'rotund' that in spite of keeping two pillows on either side, was not able to sit on her own! She was just rolling on sides. Due to some other pressing matters, we could not pursue her 'Modelling' career but seeds of histrionics were probably sown then only!

She probably had dancing in her genes. From a very tender age of 2 or 3, she started gyrating her torso to the notes of music like a seasoned ballerina and most of the time she did not require cue! 
Unlike any child of her age, around three and a half, she did not detest school but enjoyed it. Very happily she used to ride the bus to the school. In Junior KG she attended Garodia school. 
Once her nanny came panting to me, telling, 'Saana is not on the bus she was supposed to come home.' Frantically I called the school, who without even bothering about ascertaining the whereabouts of Saana, told me, that the last bus has already left and there is no child on the school premises. We went blank, did not know what to do. Before coming to our area, the school bus used to take many stops, some, much farther away from our home. Could not even think, whether she got down at one of these stops, but it was very much a possibility. To take the school authorities to the task I drove down to school almost in a daze. I confronted whosoever was there, but they just washed their hands off! In desperation I went to school grounds, thinking whether she was still lost in the play. I shouted for her only once and there she came running from the pile of sand behind the tree, shouting in glee,' Babi, Babi' I could not even reprimand her. Just asked, tears welling up in my eyes,,' Where were you Bubba? We were worried. ' She simply replied, ' I was playing in sand Babi, building castles !' 
Later we transferred her to Fatima.
With lots of worry in her eyes, she came once, asking me to fire the watchman of the society. Naturally, I asked, 'Why?' With carefully selected words, she said, 
'There is this cat who has borne a litter of 4 to 5 kittens under the staircase of the wing and that rogue watchman is adamant on throwing them, all of them Babi, out. Please Babi, please ask him not to do so! Keep at least one!' 
'No Bubba, no cats or kittens. They make staircase dirty'
It went on for a while but I did not give in. She too went on with her school chores as if nothing happened. Next morning when she was still in school I heard distinct 'Meow' from below her cot! And there was this, golden brown ricketty kitten staring at me with his big round eyes. As soon as she entered the home returning from the school, she rushed to her room! I was waiting for her in her room. Without bothering about my protests she exclaimed, 'How cute, na Babi !' 
'But Saana I had told you, not to bring cat home' 
'Where will he go then Babi, if watchman throws him out? ' 
'But at least you should have adopted a healthy one, this one drags his hind foot, he is lame!' 
Her answer was an eye-opener to me. 'That's why I brought him to our home, healthy ones will get any home, but he requires to care the most, so I brought him !' 
That's how our first cat entered the home. Saana was hardly 5 or 6 then!

To be continued

My Crushes

Whenever I see the antics of the young hero in a song from 'Sairat' "Yeda Lagala" [ I am possessed ] on any music channel [ it's being run on one or the other Marathi channel throughout the day ] I go back in times more than 50 years ago. I too was a gawkish teenager educated in all-boys school entering the coed Junior college with too much baggage. After going through medical education I am now aware that what puberty is all about but when it really was catching up with me I was flummoxed as any other teenager in that age. Whatever was done, was done out of sheer innocence and was nothing but the surge of hormones, about which I came to know much much later. Categorically I must put it down here that in those years of innocence, 'Sex' was last on the mind! At least in my case ! Yes, of course, there was a lot of curiosity but the actual act was never ever on the mind. [ Here I am talking about normal middle class lads, not psychopaths]

Hardly 16, an encounter with the opposite sex even for a chat was like a huge conquest. There was this dusky girl with dove eyes from my class  I fell in love with, for the first time. Whether it was love or not, that too I did not know at that time. But it was some unusual special feeling.  Her first 'Darshan' in the day, created a vacuum in the pit of tummy, full with ample butterflies making the heart to run faster. Was it anxiety, was it is feeling of missing or longing for something unknown, I don't know, it's so unexplainable, words really fail me!  Now! Though very short for my height, the word 'Petite' would describe her aptly, she was the cynosure of all the eyes no doubt, but in my eyes, she had special place. 

To have a passing glance, almost clandestine, at her bench as soon I used to enter the class to ascertain whether she has come or not, was a daily ritual. And it was mutual! If she wore something new I used to convey only with the nod while when I tried to be debonair she made it amply clear by the delicate gestures of the fingers. That innocent undefined attraction was so engulfing that once I followed her in my home pyjamas up to her home on the bicycle ! Thank god I was not caught. Once I had to bunk the college for something, next day she met me behind the college building and asked,' Why did you not attend the classes the other day ?' And like a vacuous gas-filled egoist [ but innocent ] male of the species I had said, ' Why bother ?'. I must have been the fool of the century! Being from two totally different socioeconomic backgrounds and me being fully aware of my shortcomings whatever that was between us, was destined not to make any progress in any direction and over the years after parting ways, which was natural, our paths never crossed again in life though we were educated in the same field but from different colleges. Even now when I remember those days. that feather-soft feeling of calf love caresses the heart fondly!

She used to stay in the next building. My second crush. And right from the beginning, it was a doomed affair and I very well knew it, but ' Yeh Dil Hai Ke Manta Nahin' [ This stupid heart does not listen to the reason]. She was beauty personified. The complexion was so flawless that as if made from the classic transparent Italian marble, light wheatish tan like colour, oblong heart-shaped face with wide brown eyes, well heighted almost coming to my shoulders, gait full with cheerful bounce, that made her ponytail toss in the air every time she took a step! Still, a student studying for my last year M.B.B.S. she was distraction for the studies. She too was studying and used to attend the classes riding on a mobike.l As soon as I used to hear the whoom of her bike I used to abandon all my studies and rush to have the glimpse of her. Not her alone but my mother too became aware of the things. ' Stupid' she, my mother used to say, 'Study first !' And she, the beauty,  used to be annoyed at the most! Because she was already married to a guy, the brother of her friend! She used to complain to her husband about my innocuous flirtations and he used to advise her, ' Don't bother !' It ended automatically when they changed the residence! Many years later when I attended a wedding in Pune,  I was made to sit next to 'The Husband' for luncheon! I could not dare to ask him 'How's at home ?' even as the courtesy talk!

No, the list is not unending. But there is this third one and the last one, the crush before I fell in love with my would-be wife that I married.

I was doing an internship at a district civil hospital and this girl was an NCC cadet in a college opposite the hospital. Few encounters and I asked her out. As it was small mofussil town she did not come, probably did not dare! I was like wasted. Not angry but to ask the reason for making me stand I reached her home. And I was perplexed. I was having numbers and had forgotten to carry the specs and I just could not recognise to whom I was talking to! She had an identical twin sister! Another fiasco of crush that did not run its full course. 

I left for Mumbai then, for my higher studies where I met my present wife, I mean the only wife, but that's another story. Later some time !. 

Olympics

Before I put down a single note about how I purview Olympics, 'Down with Shobha De' and alike. She is habituated to put her foot in her own mouth repeatedly, so no need to pay any heed to her utterances. There is saying in Marathi that 'In the 60s your wisdom takes a crooked turn.' So apt for her!

I don't know but the London Olympics were not watched that keenly in India. May be Rio the name itself carries more glamour than the old outdated mare, that is London!

So many events, that time table did not have enough space to watch every which one. But got to see many events where fellow Indians were trying hard, shoulder to shoulder with their counterparts from the other parts of the world.

I don't know why but the beginning for India was dismal. All the shooters raised our hopes or was it just the hoopla created by the press? Gagan Narang, Jitu Rai, Abhinav Bindra Chain Singh just came and vanished. except for Bindra, who secured 4th place. But Is he really Indian? For the most part of the year, he stays in Germany, I am told!

On the contrary, the women archery team showed much promise in the individual event. And I though a layperson felt that our own Bombayla Devi or Deepika Kumari were no less than any archer from anywhere in the world, but as you say, Right man at the right time at the right place. maybe it was not in our stars! Yes, they definitely showed the spark by having arrow hitting the ten many times!  The concentration was perfect, the skill was above normal, the dedication was up to the mark but...

My heart goes out to Deepa Karmakar. A lass coming from deep, mostly neglected interiors of India, getting training from the tender age of five, reaches the finals in gymnastics, a field or event so far practically unheard in India, in itself is a big, very big achievement. Here again down with 'Shobha De' and alike. She vaulted so gracefully that medal [or no medal] was immaterial.  And yes I feel, maybe biased, or seeing from an Indian point of view, in the world arena, Indians are looked down upon and so the doubt about judges being partial can not be set aside, just like that, it's really A point to ponder. Secondly, I feel our coaches,[ mostly non-Indians, but again  Indians even ] do not put our point of view forcibly or register a resent,  a fact that was observed with both the hockey teams when penalty strokes were being given to the opponents. So though India got penalty shoots for four times, for obstructing the game unabashedly Germans were never reprimanded.

Lalita Babar, Dattu Bhoknal tried really hard, but all the efforts did not bring any results. But the efforts really showed. Definitely, it was not, 'Khao, Peeo, Selfie Nikalo, and come back home' for them !. Here I would like to raise a point, maybe debatable but" Do we as a race, are fit enough for such types of events, where stamina along with personal strength and skill counts to the last 'T'." Because if you see our race from the subcontinent, not only Indians but Sri Lankans, Bangladeshis, Nepalis, even for that matter Pakistanis were conspicuous by their absence.

It has been conclusively proved scientifically beyond doubt that because Ethiopia is situated at the heights on the equator, her residents have peculiar haemoglobin that utilises oxygen more effectively so all the marathon winners, well mostly, are from Ethiopia! That haemoglobin helps them to do the feat.

If you take the events where agility is required along with finesse and dexterity, the 'Yellow' race always dominated, be it the table tennis, the badminton or the gymnastics!  Saina Nehwal or Sindhu may be making inroads lately but are at the most, exceptions.

Where plebeian raw energy is required in outbursts Blacks are ahead of all. You just can not think of any other colour winning the hundred meters sprint! 

Michael Phelps proved the point beyond doubt. His supernormal torso gives him so much of advantage over the fellow competitors that it is well nigh impossible to outdo him till he himself bows out due to age or lack of stamina.  

Do Indians fit in the pattern physically?
But the problem does not start or end at that. All pervasive 'Babu' nepotism overshadowing the merit, pure merit is another typical Indian problem and that's the big hurdle between India and the medals !.

P.S.

In my last blog, I had mentioned about the attitude of today's Indian youth. We lack motivation, zeal, zest, discipline, dedication, you name quality and we don't have it. To be a super-powerful nation in all respects we not only need these qualities but many more. When we were young, we were raised on PL480 wheat doled out in limited measures on ration. Sugar used to be in such a scarce supply that wedding receptions were unheard of. Our generation was practically wasted in making both the ends meet. Now the situation has changed. There is money, easy free-flowing money. So has come along, the arrogance, the power and the feeling that everything can be bought with money. Yes on Indian soils but not at international levels where it immediately becomes apparent that our feet are made of clay!

There is no short cut to merit, dedication, discipline and efforts!

Youth

India is entering 70s. and why I am still feeling that many a thing amiss. 3 incidences I myself went through. 2 recently and 1 way back in the 90s.

After hectic monsoon schedule, I and my son both doctors went for a movie at multiplex nearby our home to relax. Late late-night show at 10.45 PM. Jason Bourne. The movie is an extremely fast-paced crime thriller, not allowing you to have any distraction least you miss some dialogues. And there was this girl, from a group of say 4 or 5 youngsters in their early or mid-twenties started using her mobile to send some message. Her seat was diagonally opposite to mine, so in that dark, the glare of her screen started bothering me. It was directly hitting my left eye and I then was unable to concentrate on the screen. I was about to say something but my son prevented me, saying, ' Better sense will prevail on her, wait'. She was not bothered about what was going on screen and was totally engrossed in using her mobile. But no, better sense did not prevail, she went on and on. I had to interject, so I asked her to put her handset off as the glare was bothering me Without really meaning she said 'Sorry' and put her phone off. Within minutes it was interval and she started giving me, explanation, that was not asked for. It was some urgent message she had to pass on. I really don't understand this stand. If you are that busy just don't come for a movie and bother others. I said sarcastically, 'Was the message that important that somebody was asking your yes to bomb Pakistan? In that situation or for that matter in any situation, no matter is that important, otherwise, you weren't in the cinema hall in the first place!' And as if the hell broke loose. Her partners in crime rushed to her help almost pouncing on me. 'But she has said sorry'. I retorted,' Really? I feel it was only lip service !' The fracas went on till one them asked me to shut up. I had to say' I am your father's age and this language ?'  Arrogance, nothing but arrogance! The 'Sorry' was so fake that had it been real, the verbal skirmish that followed, would not have occurred in the first place! He said something but by that time I had realised it was waste to put sense into their heads. So stopped from my side.

My complex has a beautiful gym with attached spa and swimming pool. Though in my mid-sixties I regularly visit the gym to stretch my legs and have few laps in a turquoise blue pool. Another day I found a lad from the same age group, maybe even younger.  playing football, in the GYM! The gym has mirrors on all the walls. And he was toying with the ball [ meant as a handover ball for stretching the waist ] just next to a mirror. I had to shout at him.  'Uncle do you want the ball, have it ' was his answer! Nowhere the tone of remorse but the sense of being caught! I said This is Gym and not Football Stadium. If you really want to play, go outside and play.' Another shocker. 'But everybody plays' I started losing my temper, this lad without being sorry about playing football in the Gym was shamelessly arguing about it. I said, 'You should be sorry to play and say such things to me !'
 'Who are you and why should I say sorry to you?'
I really lost my cool and shouted at him' I am a responsible member of this society and I have every right to stop you from doing mischief here.'
What he was made of, I really don't know, but he simply said, ' I am not bothered'
I had to call the manager and expunge him. Later he asked me' If simply saying the sorry was going to end the matter why did you stretch it so much, I say sorry' 
I was really aghast! Again shameless lip service. Defeatedly I said, 'If you are the youth of today's India, I don't see any future for her.'
It reminded me of an incidence when we were travelling on Eu rail from Rome to Nice as backpackers way back in the early 90s. The train served as Dombivali slow for the day today travellers after it entered France. The name of the station I still remember 'Ventimiglia'. A group of students in the same age group as abovementioned lads and lasses had boarded the train to reach early morning session of school in Ventimiglia. All were typical teenagers. Bubbling, talking incessantly, and pulling pranks like any other teenagers.
The railway line was meter gauge and the platforms of the station were not higher than the knee height. Anybody could have jumped the lines easily and reached the main entrance /exit that was 3 platforms away. Our train came on platform number 3. So only two platforms to the main exit. And sparsely crowded station with no train in next an hour or half. But none of those weird-looking kids crossed the lines from above. In the neat disciplined manner, each one of them climbed down the underpass to reach the main gate still kidding around with bubbly effervescence of teens!
And we cry why India does not get any medal in the Olympics ?

Astu: Not about Alzheimer. !

Even after being a practising physician over three decades, I have hardly encountered a patient of Alzheimer who had crossed the bridge never to return. Though the clinical features were known to me, it was touching to watch it unfold on the screen. In a short span of three days, I happen to watch two movies on the same subject. From two totally different environments, cultures even continents and to certain extent contents too. But the core was the same. Trials and tribulations of, not the patient who suffers from the Alzheimer's but the near and dear ones who surround him or her. As far as the patient is concerned, he/she is on a different planet altogether by the time it is diagnosed.
The slow decline of the memory, due to permanent decay of the nerve cells, initially for the recent past and then in its entirety, is the usual course of the disease. Thus it becomes difficult to pick it up in the initial stages. It though, maybe useless,  because there is no definitive treatment as off now and the disease progresses relentlessly, ultimately making the person vegetable! Just existence but no awareness. What the affected one goes through, during this phase, though easy to guess but is extremely difficult to comprehend. Lapses of memory alternating with phases of awareness may be looked at. by the relatives as the crankiness of the old age. To take care of such a person who has lost his 'Self' but not 'mad' in the conventional sense is a mammoth task for the near relatives taking the physical and mental toll, taxing every facade of life and straining the interpersonal relationships almost to the point of snapping!

First one 'The Notebook.'  a Hollywood classic from last decade and the second one, of course, our own  'Astu' in Marathi. Both the movies show the downhill course of the patient and the dear ones so graphically that if it does not touch the strings of your heart, maybe you were born, without one!

The Notebook is a story of Noah and Allie, childhood friends from South Carolina who fall in love but the world war II separates them.  Noah declared practically dead, returns alive after seven years to find Allie in different arms, of Lon whom Allie had met in the hospital for wounded soldiers where she was offering her services as a nurse. Materialistic mother of Allie hides the fact from Allie, that Noah is still alive and is waiting for her. Devastated but still having lingering hope of reunion with Allie in mind, Noah buys the home of her dreams, resurrects it to the last detail, the way she had wanted it to be and waits patiently for Allie. After a lot of emotional upheavals, Allie returns. But the crux is not her return.

The story told in flashbacks reveals many tender spots in the journey. Noah has now become old and staying in a hospital, rather home for aged and keeps on reading a story for an inmate, who has lost her memory. Engrossed in his tale she keeps on regaining her lost horizons but only for moments. Once when she regains the lost past, asks Noah ' Are you telling our story? I know that's me, Allie, and you are Noah, the only thing that I dread now is how much time do I have to lose it completely.?' And Noah breaks down.

The vacant expression on her face, his efforts to rejoin the broken links from the past, her remembering their children for a moment, but the children finding her distant and unrelated, everything unfolds in front of you, seldom leaving your eyes dry! Contrary to usual Indian perception about the west, Noah not only loves her deeply till his last but stands true to the last grain of his being, when she was losing hers, in spite of being asked by the kids to leave her and be with them for a smoother old age!
'Astu' is not far from 'The Notebook' in the essence, only here the ties are between a father and a daughter who steadfastly refuses to keep him in a home for the similarly affected. This her being Indian, maybe, refrains her from doing so, perhaps her western counterpart might have done it much earlier. Her attachment to him, the guilt of losing him, feeling of helplessness after losing the battles on every front, resignation to the situation, her ire towards her sister for conveniently abstaining herself from the parental duty, every aspect of Ira's, daughter's persona is built up gradually so affectionately that you feel helpless with her,  you cry with her, you feel dejected with her and in the end, after finding the father you get elated with her! Her husband though understanding and with her in this ordeal, is aloof at one level as if it is not his battle. Her sister rational to the point of being cruel too keeps herself away from the actual emotional battlefield, pushing every responsibility of the father on her elder sister's able shoulders but slipping quietly away when the point of skirmish is reached! Though not overtly selfish but calculating due to her education, she too melts after realizing the sacrifices made by the elder one.
There is no point in elaborating the story in details here because that's not the purpose. Critical appraisal too is not the intention. Just how the story is told and while taking different turns how it brings forward the umpteen covert layers of the characters within, when they are thrown in that unforeseen situation, is a treat for the intellect! And I enjoyed "Astu' at that level fully.
Iravati Harshe, so far known as a good looking model, gives such a nuanced performance that it was hardly surprising that she got the highest award for it. It would have been a big let down if she wouldn't have got it! Her face becomes so transparent at times that one can easily feel her inner vulnerability and turmoil just by the looks in her eyes. Her ire by the quiver in her voice projects so effectively that you are instantly by her side! I can not think of 'Astu' without her. It was a Himalayan role and she has come out with more than flying colours.
Amruta Subhash too has given, well studied and meticulously crafted out, performance, though the entire character for me seemed unnecessary because the fight was Ira's and not Dr Shastri's. She scores because her character is etched that sharply and for an actress of her calibre it was really a far simpler task than it was for Irawati, which had too many different and complicated shades! 
For the ones who haven't had the basics of Sanskrit, at places it goes well over the head. I could not but think any other profession for Dr Shastri. Dr Gupte's character was a patchwork and her justification, well, too contrived!
Pune in Marathi cinemas nowadays looks so glamorous that I wonder many a time whether it's the same town which I resided in, forty years ago and was an idle overgrown village without glitz and glamour whatsoever!
'Astu' works at the cerebral level and so those who lack it, [ they are in plenty and it was reflected in the attendance,] might not enjoy it. For me?  It was treat for all my senses!

Prelude: 'Astu'

When 'Astu' So it be, a Marathi movie was released for the first time four years ago in Pune's Prabhat Cinema for odd timing at 9.30 AM, as an only show, it was expected that it won't reach the target audience. Mumbai for Marathi cinemas in those days was situated in US of A, maybe having few Marathi speaking people, distant cousins of Puneites was the prevalent thought! So naturally, though I longed to watch it, I could not! After many trips to Pune to have at least the DVD I realized, even now, there is a dearth of a discerning audience for meaningful but off the track Marathi cinema, because street smart Cinema like ' Time Pass ' was running to the packed houses even in multiplexes of Mumbai. DVD was just not available. And suddenly one day, I don't know what happened but the ad for Astu's re-release appeared in the daily papers and I felt as if my long-cherished desire was about to be fulfilled.  Though there is a big multiplex bang opposite my home, which does screen Marathi movies, apparently did not have a screen for 'Astu'. So I had to find a distant one. The second problem was of timings. The suitable time, was farther away while the nearer one, was at an odd time, so unsuitable for me. And I realized for a movie buff like me who loves to view good Marathi Movies it's still difficult in Mumbai to arrange for it.

The day I decided to watch it, after making all the arrangements at the clinic I headed for a multiplex in Kurla. And it started raining heavily, so heavily that the wipers were as if the redundant parts of the car. Again Kurla is known for extensive flooding. Mumbai rains, all the odds were absolutely against my watching the movie, but determined that I was I reached the multiplex after driving, hundred to two hundred meters or so in knee-deep water. But I reached the venue well ahead in time. The lovey-dovey couple in front of me in the queue took very long time even to decide which movie to watch. Then there was seat selection, it went on and on. After a long wait when I reached the window and asked for a single ticket for 'Astu' the clerk made the face as if he had heard the name, for the first time. Of course, when 'Sultan' is at the box office who was going ask for a single ticket for 'Astu' When I repeated, he said ' Oh Astu, Marathi Movie ?' in a tone as if I was asking for a fried lizard! He peeped in the screen, then looked at his manager and said  as if apologetically, ' Sir, the projector system of that Audi is under repairs so please enquire again at the show timing.' I got so annoyed and said, ' I know because I am the only patron, you are giving excuses' He smiled sheepishly which gave away him and his excuse! I persisted for the ticket, he asked me to come back again at the show timing. After having a good lunch of chicken burger at Burger King I reached the window again at the given time.

This time he was straight forward and said,' Sir you are the only viewer, so we can not run the show.' I was not angry, but I was firm, persistent and had determined, 'Not to go home' without watching the movie. After treading in knee-deep waters and driving in torrential rains, it was do or die for me! So I reminded him and his manager, the rule by Maharashtra Government that makes the management compulsory to run the Marathi movie show even if there is a lone patron! And it simply worked, both gave in and I entered the Audi with a ticket in hands, triumphantly!  

Fanaticism ? End in near future.

Iraq, Syria, Afghanistan, Pakistan, Iran, Bangladesh, now Turkey ...all failed nations.
Entire Africa except for Zambia and Zimbabwe: very unsafe even to move around.
Brussels, Paris, Nice, on terrorist maps and whole Europe under immigration burden and insecure. Greece, Portugal failing economically.

America under the terror of gun wielders and Trump.and will go on

Australia, NZ too far and not much scope economically,

Thus wrote my dear friend and it made me think. Most of the countries he mentioned are either harbouring terrorists or under the terrorists' threat. Read Muslim threat here. And my problem is, is it going to stop? After a lot of deliberation, sadly, I have to come to conclusion, No, NO in capitals, no it's not going to stop. Either it will go on perpetuating the way it is going on now or all the other groups, out of sheer exasperation may come together [ highly unlikely] and wage a civil war in all the countries against the Muslims, as now, everybody seems to be affected.

The ball that was started rolling by the then president of US of A, Mr George Bush was, in fact, a snowball and now it has become too huge to manage, for the rest of the world. An unnecessary war that was thrust on Iraq for many a damn motive, petrol, regional, - world supremacy, greed for power, has come on the threshold of every nation in the world.On the home turf, it was started by Mr L K Advani, by which neither he could achieve anything for himself nor the nation, contrary the chasm increased so much that both the groups instead of moving towards scientific modernism, are going back to medieval times. Thus grandmother does not wear burqa but for granddaughter, it is a must, and the lines for a two minutes glimpse of Lalbag cha Raja are going in miles! CA and Doctors from the Jain community have started following unbalanced diet advised 5000 years ago without even bothering about the advances made by the medical field in this respect. Same ones, but are the first ones to buy the gadgets doled out by the same funda, Research, done mostly by the westerners!

The prime force for the ongoing occult war waged by the Muslims against the world is their steadfastness to stick to their religion. Basically, every religion is a package deal. Being most recent, Islam is most precise and compact so the doctrines are stern and watertight. 'I tell you, so you have to do it.' It is that simple, you are not allowed to use your brains, so no question arises to question any diktat! And so for the one who embraces it, it becomes extremely difficult to wean oneself away from the ideology. Because to think alternatively, you must have the faculties to think, the very fact is, its the very faculty that is taken away from you by its puritanical principles.

In today's scenario, the same thinking pattern does not allow the follower to think otherwise and clearly.. So any attack on his religion makes him more hardcore to take revenge. So the world, mostly the western, as such may take pride in destroying Lashkar- E Toiba, yesterday so it made the way for ISIS today and now if they become successful, even partially, in curtailing the ISIS, there would be yet another one, phoenix-like organization waiting in the wings to take over the war where it would be paused. So by dusting the superficial layer off, would the problem be solved? Well No. It's the thought that counts and as of now there does not seem to be any sane thinker or authority that would guide the lost, [ Again so-called 'Lost 'because he himself is not going to accept that he is 'Lost'] and bring him on the right path![ What's that again ?]

Another question that naturally could be asked, for this ongoing terrorism at this juncture, is "Who" funds them? The pertinent factor here is Finance !, There is definitely some nation or a group which has enough money to keep this state of affairs going on, so the world constantly gets scalded in boiling furnace. Naturally, the finger could be directed to, either Middle East and Islamic Countries and worse to the United States Of America! It's understandable for Middle East countries to fund Islamic Organizations but US of A? The answer is simple. In yesterday's Nice incidence the truck that created havoc, was fully loaded with hand grenades. War Fare! From where do these outfits get their ammunition or artillery supply? As of now, the US of A is the biggest manufacturer of arms and her economy depends on this industry. So it's highly beneficial for the industry, and thus in turn for US of A to have some war or the other, being fought somewhere in the world! Because for both the sides, the US of A is the biggest ammunition supplier! And Why this needle of suspicion. The nation that could unearth Osama Bin Laden hiding in some Pakistani rat hole still is not declaring Pakistan as 'Terrorist' harbouring state and is content in shedding croc tears when there is terrorist attack anywhere in the world but India, read Kashmir!

That's not the case with Hinduism. It's so pluralistic that it has a problem from the definition itself. Whether to call it a religion or not. So a soft option that was taken out, 'It's a way of life ' was not digested by the puritans so they came out coining it as ' Sanatan Dharma'. And thus this fanaticism singularly does not apply to Islam alone.As I have said earlier 'Every religion is a package deal' So when you vouch for good principles of 'Hinduism' you can not get away from 'Nanga Sadhus' high on cannabis having 'Akhadas in Kumbh !' They too are part and parcel of Hinduism. Or A brigade who could not digest some harsh truth about their warrior Idol, published after extensive research in Prime institute of the world, went berserk attacking the institute and destroying extremely valuable documents preserved with care over the years by the earnest, honest and genuine pundits.

Thus the way a teen wearing burqa disturbs me, a toddler reciting Shlokas from Rugved too unsettles me. You are sending an innocent mind in the dark caves of religion without her/him even being aware of it. We really, really don't have any choice in selecting the religion. It's compulsorily passed on to us because we are borne to the parents who practise it, without really understanding it! And the cycle is going on for generations, centuries together and will go on for the next hundred centuries!

My question is 'Do we require religion or even for that matter, 'THE' God in today's times ?' The concept 'God' came first and the religions followed it. If we omit 'X' from Algebra there won't be Algebra at all, thus if we omit 'God' there won't be any religion, thus no terrorism in the name of God and/ or religion!

And 'God' ?! That is yet another riddle altogether!

Intelligentsia In continuation

A reader found my previous blog so ambiguous that he likened it to 'Mumbai Chaupaty' bhel. My bad! So here at the outset only, let me put all my cards on the table.
1. In India, a paper degree does not necessarily mean Intelligence. At the worst, both are inversely proportional. Mugging for the exams can get you a certificate without understanding even a bit about what you learn.
2. Scientific temperament is grossly in short supply. So is the comprehensive understanding of life in general, where science should play a bigger part, in reality, it is overshadowed by any other factor, but it!
3. It does not matter which discipline you belong to, religion and other factors play a much more significant role in moulding your person.
4. Rational thinking takes a back seat when concrete actions are desired
5. You hardly find a real intelligent gem, if he comes by any chance, he comes with a tag of religion, political affiliation, his own bias so and so fore.
[In context to the last blog, a dietician has to be a dietician and not a 'Jain' dietician ! ]

What prompted me to post the first part, were two patients, highly educated at that, but in my opinion, lacked the comprehensive awareness about everything in general, that education should [or is it must]   impart. Sorry to say but in multiple cases my experience was to the contrary. In today's India, a person is highly qualified on the paper but when it comes to the application, it draws to zero. From M. Tech s to B.E.s from C.A.s to MBA s it draws a blank. I am refraining myself from using the word flack !. I am deliberately omitting Arts and commerce graduates because there, it is absolutely dark. Extremely sorry to say but these are my personal experiences. unfortunately, they stand true, even for science graduates in some cases.

I was talking about two patients, one is a chemical engineer and the other B.E., software techy. When first came to me, he was weighing 100 kgs.; was suffering from diabetes, and mild hypertension from a very young age. I advised him to lose weight on war footing to have a better future for both, him as a person and his diseases too. I, in my own way, explained to him the basic principle of physics, which, him being chemical engineer, should not have been a problem to grasp [ in another case too, who was computer engineer, it stood true ]. Mass is never created never lost. If you are weighing more, you are taking more mass from nature, YOU are not manufacturing/ or producing it! In the next visit, he was weighing 117 kgs and the software engineer jumped from the 80s to 100 kgs! The height was, they both feigned ignorance about how it escalated without them eating a single calorie more! I wondered, these highly educated, qualified science postgraduates if don't understand the basic science then it's absolutely futile to hope that Pyaridevi from Zumari Talaiyya is going to follow what science needs her to follow! 

Why I omitted Arts and Commerce, even, postgraduates? 

Take a hypothetical situation. If you are marooned on an island or in a jungle. and If you are M.A. in economics with Honors, or PhD in Marathi literature, your principles of economics or comparison of Shakespeare's King Lear with V.V. Shirwadkar's 'Nat Samrat' is not going to help, it would be science that would help you to survive !. Literature for intellectual satiety is luxury, comes into picture only when everything is going good physically! Science is life, commerce and arts come much later!

Right from the day one, when you are conceived in the mother's womb till the date you breathe your last, it's nothing but science, science and science ! You come to know about commerce and Arts much much later, so it is imperative that every individual living, MUST have basic knowledge of science, mostly about his own body and to my utter disappointment the very fact, lacks profoundly in Indians, not aware of their western or developed counterparts, as did not have much chance to interact with them! But whatever I gather from the media, those are available at my disposal,  they seem to be better off!

And it does not apply to the science of life alone. Right from the minute you get up in the morning, science starts playing the part. The mattress you slept on the previous night, bristles of your toothbrush, ingredients of your bathing soap, yarns and pattern of weaving used for making your shirt, the vehicle you ride to the office, everything, absolutely everything, when has science as a base, it makes life easier, so to have an interlude to enjoy Beethoven in the evening!

And to my utter surprise, most of the Indians are floating in the air when it comes to absolute pure knowledge. There is no zeal, zest or even curiosity to be enlightened. And if you are female, less said the better!

Thus the point is, in India your education on paper and your Intelligence [ in Hyphenation] just do not match! So we have a large number of the well-educated populace but truly intelligent one is coming by very rarely! And the woe is this rare truly intelligent one too, nowadays comes with a label!

Intellengetsia

The ball started rolling when a young highly educated, working mother [ A CA working on the top post in a Multinational Bank] came along with her 7 months old child, complaining that the baby is not putting on weight as expected, in spite of giving normal food. The child was just not thriving. Really 7 months child hardly looked like max 4 months of age Though eyes were bright and the torso, in general, was well-formed, but the child was absolutely short, with small broomsticks as legs and hands.  and was not thriving properly. My DOCTOR daughter in law, trained in Neonatology. saw the child and after examining  she said ' Child is malnourished and so is not thriving, maybe, not getting enough nutrients.' It turned out that the mother belonged to some sect, something like Jehovah's Witnesses and did not give the child the food what in the normal course the child required. Non-veg was big taboo,  so was out of the question but more surprising was that 50% of the vegetables even were taboo! Even after explaining the fundamentals and the importance of normal nutritious foodstuff for 5 months old, the mother steadfastly rejected 75% of what was charted out for her daughter from the vegetarian food, in the 1st place, out of the remaining, citing more complex religious taboos, one after the other, she vetoed out, practically 90% from the spread. The irony was, whatever her highness passed, hardly was a balanced diet. Mostly only Carbohydrates and fats. no fibres, no proteins, no vitamins! And I was shocked at myself of what I suggested as the last resort. 'Send her to The Sect dietician !'. Dietician having religion ?!
Any branch of Modern Medicine is developed, being developed or at least trying to develop on the merit of pure authenticated research, proved by umpteen experiments, in short science in its purest form and thus carries no label. It must not. And here? Though it looks absurd but the statement holds water, definitely. We have come to such a passe that this stupid sentiment is sipping slowly in all walks of life.
Intelligentsia. By definition, maybe my own is a class of people where you get berth only on, 1. Intelligence, sheer intelligence, no book worms here. 2. Rational thinking. 3 Having fine faculties to discuss analyse dissect and oppose if necessary 4. Have the capacity to think independently, what they call outside the box and last but not the least 5. To have the courage and integrity to put forward in front of any audience from any platform what you really feel, think from the gut levels.
There was a lot of hue and cry about Mr R Rajan's refusal to continue as RBI governor any further.   As I have already accepted that I understand nothing about economics, all about those fiscal rates, deficits and what not. Accepted for the argument that Mr R Rajan was the best, 1st in his class, even for that matter a gold medalist, but there must be this second guy, a silver medalist, who missed the rank by the width of a hair, and it's highly likely that 'He might be having totally opposite views what Mr Rajan is trying to set for India. So here we have a world-famous economist backed by Leftists, thumping their hearts so much that, they might burst. But the picture is obviously not that clear, now we have in the field of economics two diagonally opposite viewpoints even for the middle path. My intelligence is unable to cope up with it!
An architect with right-wing upbringing, they call it chaddi values, will definitely try to incorporate, the designs popularized by the serial on Ramayan. In fact, nobody can vouch how exactly was the architecture in those times. But you will get ornate pillars with lotus and or Om incorporated somewhere . Exactly a Muslim one would try to emulate mosque like pattern in all his designs.
These are only a few examples. Every topper from every field is not simply, a topper now, he belongs to a camp. He can't or is not allowed to shed his artificial attires. Sad state of affairs.
The divide may be on different levels, Religion topping the all, political inclinations, caste, creed,  region, nation, gender oh the list is unending! Unbiased thinkers have become a rare breed. The so-called Intelligentsia too is so divided I shudder to call them the members of the elite class.  

Father Of The Bride

Well, it's not about the movie by the same name, that had a sequel which did not stand vis a vis the original, both starring Steve Martin. This blog is about the reaction of 3 different fathers facing an almost similar situation, in their daughter's life.

1967 classic, 'Guess Who's coming to Dinner ?' ' Time Pass 1' and of course last but not the least 'Sairat'

Multiple Oscar winner 'Guess Who's Coming to Dinner' was well ahead of its times even by American standards. Joey or Joanna daughter of a liberal white couple, Mr and Mrs Drayton returns home early from her Hawaii holidays with a black boyfriend Dr John Prentice, whom she had decided to marry, the decision that topples the apple cart of the outwardly liberal facade, so far running smoothly. With the ominous declaration, the very white foundations of news baron Mr Drayton are shaken to the core. The fears are heightened by the laws prevalent then. Till the time of the release of the film or six months around in 1967, in 17 states of US of A, mostly from the south, Interracial marriages were forbidden. By the law! [ We in India are lucky in that sense because not only inter-caste marriages are not banned by the law but are encouraged by the government in power, always, bestowing innumerable gifts and facilities in money and kind on the newly wedded couple, right from the day one !]

It was ironic that this law, known as 'Anti-Miscegenation law' was struck down by Supreme court of US of A only 2 days after the death Mr Spencer Tracy, the protagonist of the film, Father of the Bride!
Yes, he reacts in the same way every father of the bride would react if she goes against his wishes when mostly he has doubts about the compatibility on personal and more importantly on a social level. Though ridiculed by his golf buddy, a catholic priest who dares to tear his mask of liberalism on his face, though warned by his wife of 40 years about the likelihood of bad blood being run between his only daughter and his double standard principles he goes ahead and objects to the very idea, the marriage of his only daughter to highly qualified, intelligent, polite, well mannered but....  a black 'Negro ' guy! The word 'Negro' is used unabashedly to describe him and his ilk. But our hero though smarting under the attack does not give up on his principle, to get the permission of Mrs and Mr Drayton, wholeheartedly for the alliance!
And 'Guess Who's Coming to Dinner? ' to add fuel to the fire.
Parents of Dr John, Mrs and Mr Prentice! Mr Prentice gives piece of his mind to John, his son, about how lowly paid mailman he was, how hard it was for him to educate John to this level, how he walked 75000 miles carrying the heavy load of mail, all usual emotional blackmail, in short, He asks for his pound of flesh.
The rejoinder given by Dr John is worth emulating and should be an eye-opener to all those in India who are still burdened under the caste system. he says,
"Throughout your life, you thought  as a black man, I think simply as a man"
The day, downtrodden in India will accept this reality lot many problems would be solved!
No, no... drawing-room rejoinders and spitfires with small amount of rational sympathetic bond between the two mothers is not the subject to whet and whine, How rationally Mr Drayton comes to a laudable solution keeping all the aspects of positive and negative outcomes open, is worth a watch and imbibe! That's how the father of the bride should be!
I stayed for 8 years in Lalbag Parel area during my student days, so I am quite conversant with the milieu of the area. The 'Tapori' types in the area, were/are always after the girls to patao them. Classier the dame more the efforts. But when it comes to their own sisters having even serious affair with a deserving boy, they let the hell loose for the boy, and even for their own sister. Thrashing, lambasting, beating is a common practice.  The happiness of sister ... what ?. 
I happened to view 'Time pass 1' with such crowd sitting just next to me in the row. With every showdown of 'The Father of the Bride' here a Brahman, a lower level clerk working in BARC, entire row used to go into ecstasy with loud boohoos and shouting explicit s. Here his being Brahman was the butt of the joke ! Exasperated by the situation, not having monetary, or political clout at his disposal this poor 'Father of the Bride' who could not fathom [ I must say here, that I too won't, being a father of a similar daughter] his smart well educated talented daughter getting involved with a son of a rickshaw driver, duffer in school, lacking common manners and decency decides to flee from the scene. That's his upbringing, his values, to a certain extent his cowardice, resigning in front of the masses, but not uttering a single word of dissent or taking any malicious action against them either! What else he could have done? The Father of Bride.
By this time 'Sairat' must have crossed the bar of Rs 100 crores. The thrust of publicity was mostly on the boldness of the girl, almost reaching to the level of emancipation. But are we forgetting something here? what Mr Manjule wants to convey. The director shows a child running barefoot leaving bloody footprints behind him! And who is responsible for the bloodshed. Father of the Bride. Vacuous pride in caste superiority, total lack of reason, tremendous arrogance due to brutal political clout, that's today's rural Maharashtra for you!
Three fathers, three brides and three reactions!

Genes

I am past 60 but can befriend with anybody from 5 to 50. I go for swimming regularly. The complex has the swimming pool of its own. Whatever the reason, but a complex having around 1600 flats, the pool is hardly frequented. And thus I am friends with few 10 years olds who come regularly, on one to one basis. 

While having a dip, they pour out their grievances, however small to me in the most earnest manner.

'Uncle', though I am in the league of their grandpa, they always call me uncle. Once so happened that one's father asked him to call me grandpa, initially he stoically refused, but when he saw other gentlemen in his 80s having a swim, he said 'That one is real grandpa, he is young grandpa.' Well, of course, I took it in my own stride, lovingly!

'Uncle, he pushes me down, Uncle he broke my water glasses, Uncle he does not allow me to swim !'   

At times I don't understand how to pacify them. I tell them, 'If you succumb to any bully in whatever way, you would be bullied all throughout your life. So resist in whichever way, you can !'  

One around 8 years in age and weighing no more than 20 kgs said, ' But uncle I can't. He always overpowers me.' 

I said in that case ' Remain away from him, that's the only way .'

'But if we do something to him, he tells his mummy and she scolds us without reason '. 

'In that case, bring, your mummy in' 

'But she won't venture'

I Replied probably without thinking, on the spur of  moment, 'In that case, change your mummy' 

Everybody exploded in laughter including the gentleman nearby who was listening to our conversation intently. He made a sign of 'Thumbs Up' to me and started laughing.

But these are THE genes, some are born bullies some just take it till the point they can take it, afterwards either they succumb or change the path, physically, psychologically. And it starts at this innocent age. 

The story gets repeated on every walk of life every day and there is no concrete answer to it!

The entire episode culminated on a bizarre note.

Two girls in the same age group were having similar type of altercation. One retorted, very solemnly to other's outburst, ' If you feel  my way, good, if not, go and die !'

Any answers for these 7-year-olds?