Norway: Copenhagen to Oslo: Cruise

Certain traits, they never leave you wherever you go. Brought up in middle class Marathi home, time management is always done in a frantic way. We were to leave Copenhagen for Oslo on a cruise at 4 PM and according to deftly charted out plans by our tour operator Sangeeta Oberai, arranger par excellence, a cab was scheduled to pick us up to take to DFDS port at 3 PM and here we were ready and worrying from 2 PM. Fortunately tea, coffee even the hot chocolate and fresh fruit juices were on the house but how much can one drink. Even after umpteen rounds from the lobby to the entrance, there was no sign of cab in the sight. By 2.45 PM our patience started wearing off. We Indians always want to be at the place well in advance as we are not sure of our services and also about ourselves. While Westerners being what they are, are always a stickler for the time, so exactly one minute before 3 PM a burly cab driver came in the lobby asking for us. We were more than ready.  But he dropped a bombshell, as soon as we loaded the luggage. 

'Do you know the place where we are going ?'

We were dumbstruck. 'I hope you must be knowing, some DFDS port, Copenhagen port'

He simply said 'Oh' and started driving. God knows how, but after making few mistakes we reached DFDS port at around 3.40 PM or so and we breathed a sigh of relief, naturally. As our papers were all neat and tidy, the formalities were completed in less than 10 minutes and we were in our cabin at the 15th minute.

The ship was huge with more than 16 storeys and had quite a few restaurants to cater to every taste. Bar too was well stocked, with Casino and club nearby. It practically was a floating palace. Our cabin was situated on the 14th floor, just 2 floors below the upper deck, it was picture-postcard abode. To call it a cabin was an insult, it practically was a suite( of course real suite was well beyond affordable !), with balcony facing the sea, a smallish parlour with sofas and a tub in the bathroom. It was Commodore class so had special privileges at breakfast and dinner table.




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There is always rush to catch the chairs on the upper deck when the ship leaves the port. Because it's a beautiful view. Having a good view of setting sun with the enormous sea as foreground, with a glass of foaming beer in hand, is really a moment, most cherished. Here westerners don't lag behind. As we were late by the time we reached the upper deck, every chair on the deck was occupied or was having kerchief or bag to show the reservation. Being Indians, in the end, we managed. 

     

And who says that apartheid has gone.! This small pool on the lower deck had many white children just playing but as soon as a Sardar from an Indian family entered the pool, one by one each child went out leaving the entire pool to the Indians. They were not bothered, of course, why should they, and went on enjoying the swim!



Denmark is a peninsula and practically juts in the Swedish seas. So on the east coast, we keep on having the company of Sweden. All these European nations have utilized alternative source of energy to the hilt so have these type of windmills all along. 

And the notion in India, "All these windmills take away the wind so reduce the rainfall. So we don't want them." My maidservant was telling me, who resides near Satara where on the plateau of Kaas there are windmills in large numbers.

The bridge which we could not experience while coming to Copenhagen from Stockholm due to speed and barricades became apparent and it was a great view. 







The sea between Copenhagen and Oslo is not a sea actually but is a strait known as Stagerrak joining North sea with Baltic sea through another strait known as Kattegat. 

Like the North sea, the waters are absolutely crystal clear and turquoise blue. The white froth that propellers created too was a sight to watch, mesmerizing.  

We lingered on the deck for quite some time but could not catch that melting sun going down in the waters to give orange hue to the already golden sea. That was the time to hit the bar. All the shots and cocktails were very inviting but the right side of the menu was fit enough to burn a big hole in the pocket. 60 ml Martini costing Rs. 2000 was abominable. We selected few, that suited our pocket but with the attitude 'Hell with the value of Rupee!' I stopped at one, Shubha ventured for more but within the limits.

Dinner was an event. Commodore class cruisers were treated at a special restaurant where the tables were very few and the patrons were limited in number, maybe around 20 or so. The spread was enormous, for a person like me who enjoys continental food, it was THE treat We were so well taken care of that it was like 'We arrived !'. Waiters were looking after every need of ours and were personally suggesting the menu. After dinner and some lazying around it was time for 'Pub Hopping'. It's a common practice in western countries that after dinner, you go from one pub to another and get dead drunk till you pass out. It was not possible, rather unthinkable for us, of course. But we tried our hand at it, without passing out. The ambience was superlative which added to the zing! In English as well as in Marathi! Rather than having the drinks after drinks, we were high on the ambience itself. Even then the last cocktail we had was at around 1 AM! It was time to hit the sack. After spending a few minutes in the balcony, we did just that, but before that let me tell you, a sea without moonlight looks absolutely eerie!
After a wonderful sleep, we were really relaxed but it was time for breakfast, so had to rush. Again the same lavish spread, personal amiable treatment, what they say in India, 'Soul was satisfied !'

All the Nordic countries have so many islands, I don't know how do they keep the track. By 9.30 AM our ship entered Oslo Fjord. In comparison with other fjords, those we saw later, it was a poor cousin from the country! But it too had its own beauty. 

Many many islands, with few having only single bungalow, [ We were told that these are privately owned islands. And we are happy when we are in a position to buy 2 BHK flat in uptown Mumbai ! ] with a small motorboat parked beside.  

  The first view of Oslo port was drab, like any other industrial city. Not like the Helsinki port which is beautiful. DFDS have their separate special wharf for disembarking A taxi was waiting for us to take to the tour bus and that was an end to a beautiful memorable voyage!

My Bicycle and Two wheeler Days

Pune in my teens, say from the late 60s to early 70s, was known as Bicycle city for having a maximum number of bicycles next only to Amsterdam in the Netherlands who still holds the post. Whooping 99.1% still use the bicycle.  As off now where does Pune stand I am unaware of? China, Beijing and Shanghai must have taken over long back.

The 1st bicycle in my family, owned by my maternal uncle was 'Hind' cycle model, manufactured at our own Worli next to Doordarshan Kendra, company now practically defunct. Every day he and many like him, practically in thousands, used to cycle down to places of their work more than 10 km away from the home, some even farther away at Pimpri and Chinchwad. Thus in early hours, old Mumbai Pune road was nothing but cycles and cycles everywhere.

  Very heavy to ride, nonetheless I learnt my first paddling on it. As it was too tall for me I used to paddle by putting the right leg across the cycle below the central bar. One of my friends was late to adopt to the seat, so was riding the cycle in a similar fashion practically for years, to attend the PT classes held on SP college grounds very early in the morning. 

Pelican was the name of the model bought by my mother for my brother when he started attending college. If I remember right it was bought for much less than, even thousand rupees in those days. It was an Atlas cycle company product which later was bought by Hero cycles. It too was heavy but suiting our pockets. Top in the form in those days were the cycles by Raleigh company, originally from the UK. To own a Raleigh was a point of prestige for us, teenagers. Really did not understand the mechanics and even economics of the pricing of the cycles then, because for us, in those days it was just a bicycle, to ride and to enjoy.

I too got my own cycle, when I started attending college in the late 60s. It was 'Hercules' by TI cycles from Madras, now Chennai. As compared to Pelican it was definitely suave, easy to ride and had a name in the teenage circle. Oh, how I enjoyed this one!

  PMT, bus service in those days too, was a piece in the museum, so any ride anywhere, was on the bicycle. I remember going to Vitthalwadi [ far from the city in those days], Katraj, even to Sinhgad, with like-minded friends many times. One of our friends was staying in Hindustan Antibiotics colony at Pimpri. There used to be a cinema show on every Saturday in the colony. Many many Saturdays we rode our cycles to Pimpri, though the movie used to be old and oft-seen. Far situated cinemas had lower entrance rates than the city and so I have ridden the cycle to every farthest theatre in Pune some even 20 km away from the home but the ride was never tiresome, in fact, it was very enjoyable to visit Vaibhav at Hadapsar as the roads were lined by trees and had green fields all along, not the concrete jungles of today!  
  After catching early morning local to Lonavala and then roaming all over Lonavala on hired bicycles from the shop near Annapurna, oh we did it thousand times! So when I see the millions thronging to have a single dip in Bhushi, I just abhor the sight!

  To own a two-wheeler was the utmost dream. Only 2 models in scooters and 2 to 3 models in motorbikes were available then. Vespa and Lambretta in scooters while Java, Royal En-field and the third one I forget, maybe Escort or Bullet. Amongst scooters, Lambretta was a no-no! Luna the cycle with an engine , called moped, was also popular in my undergraduate days but was always considered infra-dig.

  To buy Vespa you had to wait for years. It was costing around three thousand when Fiat, the car came at seventeen thousand, both brand new and not the old ones! To meet with the demands of the market, the Govt. Of Maharashtra in partnership with Bajaj, manufacturers of Vespa started manufacturing Vespa with a different name, Priya and that too had endless waiting period, I got my own after waiting for 5 years! What I did with Pune on the bicycle I did with Mumbai on Scooter. Every nook and corner of the old city I traversed on my Priya. To go to Ghatkopar where I stay now, was practically like going to a town away, with mangroves and marshy lands along the eastern express highway. It too was again a joyous ride with backwaters of the creek flowing along the highway! Most important, it was a safe ride with two-wheeler in those days. And we too were different riders. Now...Neither two-wheeler rides have remained safe, nor their riders!  About them..... less said the better!

Girl Child

I still remember the way she entered my cabin for the first time. She reminded me of the plant 'Touch me not'.Maybe 25 or 30 years ago, I was a young postgraduate then with fresh bubbling knowledge, bursting at the seams and was eager to help the needy ones. 

So fragile was she, that even a single utterance as if was enough to send her down into the land of silence. She looked at me only once,  with her large empathetic eyes almost having a line of tear at the edges, but did not linger, immediately turned her gaze down as if it belonged there. Her parents seemed to be from interiors of western Maharashtra, clearly apparent from their attire but mostly the diction. Mother in her nine-yard Ilkal sari looked much older to have a daughter of 14 or maybe 15. The red vermilion horizontal line on her forehead was a telltale sign of her origins. Father too was not less than in his 60s and wore white long shirt and pyjamas. They probably sensed my question so started on their own, mother ventured first,
'She was born to us after 15 years of marriage. We had tried everything from umpteen number of doctors to 'N' number of tests. We practically did everything. No God was left without offering. Not a single pilgrim was spared. But she took her time and so ....' she trailed off. [ The difference in the ages, I concurred. ].
'But her entry into our home was very auspicious. Within a year or so two sons followed her, twins, and then the prosperity came in bounds!' It was the father's turn to speak.
'What's the problem with her, why are you here?'
'Such a good child, so far, what has happened to her God knows, now she is lagging in schools, grossly. Has become extremely lazy, no concentration at all and shakes even while sitting idle.'
Mother intervened,' Same is with the household work. Absolutely clumsy in the kitchen. Can not even hold the utensils properly, drops everything, every now and then. Has Become very callous lately!'
'Takes aeons to answer or utter anything. Speech, if you ask me is stupid. '
There was, as if a race among-st them, to, in a way, deride her. I could not understand their ridicule nor latent apathy. 1st born, auspicious child, but the way they spoke about her, it seemed otherwise.
I examined her thoroughly and found her to be having cerebellar, small brain deficit. On keener exam, I became sure that something was wrong with her balance, speech eyes and coordinations, all the signs of a cerebellar deficit.
In short, I explained to them what I felt and said,
'I can not say anything for sure now, till the time, we do not investigate her further.....'
Father intervened,' Like ?'
'CT scan of the head.[ MRI was not available in Mumbai then and CT facility too, was available at one or two places only.]
'Is it expensive ?'
 'Yes'
 'Then we can't afford it. '
'But we have to get it done to come to some conclusion, at least.'
They paused for a while, father then asked as if negotiating, 
'Can something with any concession be arranged?'
I used my goodwill and got it done at a minimal cost. The news was worse than expected. She was developing a fast-growing tumour in the posterior compartment, where the small brain is situated. Unless and until operated very fast, her life was in danger as it was going to increase pressure in the posterior compartment and press her vital centres. So decompression at the earliest was a must. I explained the emergency in most simple but urgent words, but I felt it went well over their heads. Maybe because of their background but why did I have the inkling that it was otherwise?
The name Tata itself sent them in profound recoil. It was understandable but the reason that they gave sent me in the shock.
'Suggest someplace nearer the home. From Kurla, Parel is too far !'
'You find Kurla far from Parel? People for their near and dear ones, come from much farther, even from up India and  Tata is best for such cases...' I practically was pleading. Probably urgency in my voice irked them, father the most, so, maybe, he said abruptly,
'No Doctor, henceforth we do not require your consultation as well as your help, we'll manage.'
That was the last discussion. I did not know where did they take her thereafter but got to know that Father was extremely well off and ran the transport business and owned 15 trucks!   
Kept on getting the news from the same source that she was given Homeopathy, Naturopathy, Ayurved too was tried but was never taken to a neurosurgeon in spite of my umpteen suggestions and in the end requests. I just wanted them to give her a chance, a chance to live!
Within a few months, the child met with her destiny and I could not prevent it!
Was she not given a chance only because she was a daughter, a girl child?

Little Miss Sunshine!

It was not though as if her journey in our lives was uneventful. Many ups and downs like any other normal family. During her school days in Fatima, she shone mostly in sports and dance activities. She was adjudged best student in sports when she was in 7th or 8th. 9th and 10th were difficult for her as well as for us. She was not a Maths student.  You are or you are not, it's as straight as that for Maths! Period! Her marks in Maths used to give me sleepless nights. When the 9th 's exams were just a few months away she showed her true colours about her dislike for Maths. It was so difficult to get a private tutor to teach  Maths at that 11th hour that we practically took it for granted that she would flunk Maths, as normally private schools apply their filters in 9th only to have 100% results in 10th.

Her Maths teacher in school just shrugged, saying, 'He can not give personal attention to every student in the class of 75 !'    

'In that case, you should conduct special classes for such students, after school is over !' 

'No that's not possible'

The same answer was given to me when I went to have special teaching for my son as he always excelled in all subjects!

That's our education system. Law of averages is applied so blatantly that it's futile to expect above normals to shine or below normals to come on par! 

But she surprised us. With special training only for 3 to 4 months, she not only got through 9th but excelled in Maths in 10th even, with very good marks!

The only thing which I insisted on her was to opt for the discipline of science, in Junior college. In my truest sense and heartfelt conviction, it is the only discipline that opens vistas of life on all fronts. It opens your mind! And she did not disappoint me. 12th too, she cleared with good marks lifting a heavy weight off my mind!

A bit of friction was there when it came to 'What after 12th ?' Like every middle class, ' By values' father[ in me], I wanted her to pursue pure academics like B.Sc in Micro or some such branch, respectable enough to have good match in future! [ How stupid of me !]  But she, with support of her mother, stoically refused and decided to pursue a career in hospitality. My opposition was never that staunch so I did not press like typical Indian father[ Not that, the duo would have paid any heed to my nay.] But I went with her to take admission in catering college, actually IHM, Institute of Hospitality Management, at Dadar, where she had secured seat after having 300th rank on all India basis where around 150, 000 students aspire to get in!  
In IHM, she bloomed into a very beautiful person, self-sufficient, bubbly, effervescent, articulate, an independent soul with the mind of her own, all at the same time! She had become so confident by then, that in the tender ages of teens, still pursuing her B.sc. at IHM, she flew to Poland, to help destitute children to teach everything in general, English in special! Journey to Poland at that tender age of 18 was more than testing! There is no direct flight to Warsaw from India. You have to change flight either at Frankfurt or Munich, with a halt of a few hours. The place she was supposed to visit, Stargard was still further away from Warsaw for which you have to change the trains, midway! This girl in her teens, without knowing ABC of Polish language [ Eastern Europeans speak sparse English ], without having Polish currency [ Most of the eastern European countries haven't opted for Euro, so far.]. had so many problems just to reach the bus station which was to take her to the Warsaw railway station from the airport, for want of a change in Polish currency! But she managed. She was travelling practically for 24 hours but reached the destination safely. My girl 'Arrived !'
Thereafter it was only up up and up for her. It was followed by a stint of internship in a hotel at Delphi in Greece. She worked very hard in Delphi and became like a family member of the hotel owner. She by this time had travelled over the parts of  Europe, all on her own, like any other teenager from the west. She travelled all over Belgium, staying at youth hostels, biking her way to places, visiting hotels and bars like locals. The entire trip she mapped out herself and executed to the last 'T'.  Her this 'Independent' stint was disliked, but even today I liked what she did because she lived her life on her own terms without bothering about the emotional pressures! I fully supported her in this venture of hers then and support even now!
All the journey so far, made her so tough and independent that she on her own applied for the Masters in Hospitality in the University of South Australia, got selected and completed the course with a medal! She was so brilliant in her job that she was absorbed in Melbourne Sheraton while still doing her compulsory internship. 

 


















Saana, you always made me proud, some hiccups are bound to be there but in the end, it's the heart that counts!

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 ?