Arre Kya Baat Hai! (old)

A new home for this blog

2010-03-19T05:49:00.000+01:00

This blog was started in 2005. In the last five years, blog technology has changed significantly and I found it increasingly difficult to update this blog. I had almost decided to migrate it to a new Wordpress blog. Then I learned a way to update this blog and the problem was resolved and the idea of migration was dropped.

However, last month I found out that the problem was not solved. A mail came from Blogger.com saying that they will discontinue FTP upload service for blogs from 1 May 2010, and this blog has been set up in a way that requires FTP upload.

So once again, I had to think about migration. The new home of this blog will be at: http://kyabaat.blogspot.com/

Hope to see you there.

Women changing rural India: Sarpanch Sahib

2009-12-22T16:40:00.001+01:00

Common perception is that in spite of poverty and under-development, women in South Asia have played a much more active role in leadership and politics of their countries and their communities than in the western “developed” world. Persons like Sirimavo Bhandaranayike, Indira Gandhi, Sheikh Hasina, Benazir Bhutto, Mayawati and Aung San Kyi are responsible for this common perception. Yet, those who know the reality of our world, know that for most women, especially in rural areas, their lives are often closed in the boundaries of traditions, hidden behind veils, bound by rules of caste and class.

India started an experiment in 1993 to change this apparently immutable world of rural women by reserving certain election seats at village council level (Gram Panchayats) for them. At that time, many persons had thought that this would not change anything, men will continue to decide and rule as usual, using their wives or mothers or daughter-in-laws as a cover.

Initially almost all the women who entered the poltical arena because of this policy, were in some way forced by their families. Most of them did not receive any training for the roles they were asked to take on. Almost fifteen years later, it is perhaps time to take stock and understand how this change has worked out in practice and if indeed there has been a change?

Yes, in spite of all the cynicism and active obstruction by old political power-brokers, the experiment has started to bring about a change. “Sarpanch Sahib – Changing the face of India”, edited by Manjima Bhattacharjya (Harper Collins India with India Today and The Hunger Project, 2009), tells the stories of some such women who became presidents of their Gram Panchayats (village councils).

The stories of the book are told by women like Manju Kapur, Indira Maya Ganesh, etc. and are immensely readable. They talk of villages from different parts of India. To understand what these women went through and continue to pass through, what it means for them to live lives of poverty and yet strive for better governance against all odds, makes for a humbling experience.

I liked all the stories. They are succcess stories, even if they show that nothing is easy and at times, the idea of “success” does not quite express what they have achieved. They show that change in the unchanging world of rural poverty, could be almost imperceptible. Like the story of a person like Kenchamma, a dalit woman, who continues to shell betel nuts for a living, even while she is into her second term in the Gram Panchayat. Like this passage from her story:

Quite far removed from the Kenchamma of 1993, who cried in humiliation as she returned from her first meetings, bewildered and frustated at not being able to say anything. We were walking through the village and my eyes fall on her callused hands. She points to the skin of betel nut strewn in piles every where. She did four sacks yesterday. At 50 rupees a box she makes 200 rupees for the day. ...An uneducated Dalit woman has done for her village what seasoned political aspirants have not. But what has she got in return? What does one make of this strange sort of limbo? Thins have changed so much over one generation – from Cariappa’s to his daughter-in-law’s, yet they remain disturbingly unchanged.

Kenchamma has been president of the panchayat twice and is now a grudgingly respected member of the village community – respected by Dailts and Lingayats. But she is still a poor Dalit woman. As if being any other way would be improper. Improper not to live in a thatched, leaking mud hut, or to plaster her house, to not struggle for daily wages, improper to imagine other livelihoods, work not just for the village but make a career out of governance and use the 10 years of hands-on learning she has had. The boundaries have been pushed, but still only from the limits of the home to the village. Isn’t it enough that you have been allowed to reach this far, the voices seem to suggest?

I think that Kenchammas of this world are wise, they know that entrenched social hierarchies can react back with terrible fury if they feel that the status quo is being challenged. They know that they can not count on any one else to protect them. So they bide their time, they accept to continue to living lives of poverty and marginalisation, even while achieving small changes, providing education for their children. They are not aiming for revolutions, they are aiming for a change. Most of us from worlds far away from theirs, including many development experts, are frustrated with this path of slow change.

Perhaps we, or some of us, would have preferred revolutions?

I would recommend this book to everyone, especially those who think that they know India, that they are building the modern new India, that they are bringing in the progress. It would bring a sense of balance in what they think about themselves and gain some respect for those Kanchammas, working in far away places to bring small changes in rural India, taking personal risks that most of us wouldn't have the courage to take.

Migrating souls: Leaving India by Minal Hajratwala

2009-12-19T18:45:00.000+01:00

Books and stories that talk about immigrant experience fascinate me. Stories about Indian immigrant experience, their second generations in their new homelands, fascinate me even more. I have realised that when I read them, I talk to myself all the time.

At one place in the book, Minal says, “Deep in the marrow of every story is a silence”. Perhaps, it is there, in that silence, that the reader and the author can meet and talk, about what was left unsaid and what can not be expressed in words. In that sense, it was particularly hard to read “Leaving India – my family’s journey from five villages to five continents”, because our parallel dialogue in that silence was at times so intense.

When I start realising that I am liking a book and that I would like to write about that it, I start bending the corners of those pages that have particular passages that touch me in a special way, so that when I write I go back and refer to those particular passages.

In “Leaving India”, I have marked so many pages, that if I try to write all the feeling they evoke in me, probably I will end up writing a bigger book. So I will not even attempt to write all those things.

I read it almost in one go, over a period of three days. And, I had to stop myself at times, to put aside the book and go for a small walk, just to think, and also to prolong the joy of reading it.

Minal’s family’s journey starts from five villages in south Gujarat, at a time when there was no state called “Gujarat”, in late nineteenth century. Poverty and dreams of making a mark in far away parts of the British empire, take away the men, leaving their wives with their children in Gujarat. Slowly, the wives also follow their husbands and then as fortunes of the empire change, and new opportunties arise, the emigrants change homes, searching for more hospitable lands where they can grow their families in peace and dignity.

Among all the stories, the one which touched me most was the story of Bhupendra and Bhanu, Minal’s parents, probably because I could empathise and understand more the kind of problems they went through. Among all the pages that I had marked, I have decided to take one passage from this part of the book that touches on the challenges and opportunities that emigration experience can give us:

In New Zealand, Bhanu might have become small and huddled; our lives there were always slightly shabby, as if the gray of the skies had settled over our skins, clothes, hopes. In Fiji, she would have been one of the several daughter-in-law, bickering for position in a chaotic and quarrelsome extended family. In India she could have lived a life of middle– or upper-class privilege, with ahousehold of maids to supervise.

In America my mother bloomed like a tropical flower, colourful, with a thick, strong stem, petals as sturdy as bark....

Slowly we became – all four of us – American. For Bhupendra and Bhanu this would become clearer with each visit to India or Fiji. Although they tried to blend in, to do as the locals did, the mask was less and less perfect. The changes were physiological: they oculd not drink the water, had to be careful about what they ate ... The changes were also psychological. They found they simply could not understand why certain things were as they were, how people could stand to live that way.

You don’t need to move to USA to realise that you have changed. Shifting from Patna to Delhi or Mumbai can change you equally. Going to university, living on your own, every change marks your difference. In that sense, you don’t need to be an emigrant to understand what Minal is writing about.

Minal’s own journey as a second generation emigrant growing up in USA, was also interesting since through it I could imagine a dialogue with my son and see his growing up experinece. He himself would never talk of such things with me, and unless he decides to write a book about himself one day, I have no way to enter that world.

Minal’s own journey is much tougher, I think, compared to my son’s journey, since it is linked to her struggle to live her sexuality that doesn’t fit in with the heterosexual “normality” of the traditional family.

As the world globalises, I think that Minal Hazratwala’s book tells a story that is more universal, that can be understood and felt by all those who move away from the places where they grew up, from villages to the cities, from one country to another.

LEAVING INDIA, My Family’s Journey From Five Villages to Five Continents, by Minal Hajratwala, 2008, published by Houghton Mifftin Harcourt company USA e Tranquebar press India.

Indian Dalit & European Roma

2009-12-10T07:38:00.004+01:00

In a recent magazine section of The Hindu (22 November 2009), there was an interesting article of Pardeep Attri on sharing of ideas and experiences between Indian dalit activists and European Roma (Gypsies) activists.

Growing up in India, I had seen the impact of caste based discrimination and exploitation. Over the past ten years, I am living in a place in Bologna (Italy) where some Roma families have been settled. So I have also had the opportunity to see how Roma persons are treated there. However, I feel that in emotional terms, I can understand much better the discrimination and exploitation of Dalits in India, while many of the basic issues regarding discrimination of Roma persons still remain a mystery for me.

Attri’s article

In his article Pardeep Attri has written about some Hungarian Roma activists who had read about Dr Ambedkar’s struggle for the rights of Dalits to live with dignity and visited Maharashtra to learn more about it and to create links with them. Later Attri himself visited Hungary to interact with Roma communities there. He has written about his experience of visiting a Roma village in Hungary.

Like Dalits in India, it seems that as a result of this India-Hungarian collaboration, some of the Romas in Hungary have converted to Buddhism:

My experiences with Roma persons

For a long time in Italy, I didn’t have much opportunity to observe persons who are easily identified as Roma. In Italian the political correct term to call them is Rom while most persons use a more derogatory term of “Zingaro” (plural, zingari). I had mostly seen them as beggers outside churches or as persons playing music in the buses or trains to earn money or as persons running the amusement parks that are set up as a visiting fair in the outskirts of the city.

Some of them look very Indian, especially women, who look like Rajasthani women, with a long ghagra like skirt and blouse, often with small babies in their arms and usually surrounded by many children of varying ages. It automatically created a sense of kinship for me.

There are two issues in terms of my personal experiences related to Roma persons. First is that these experiences probably relate to a certain group of Roma persons, who are not integrated in the communities where they live, and who are considered as representatives of all Roma persons.

The second issue is that inspite of feelings of emotional kinship and beliefs in inherent dignity and equality of all persons, I find it very difficult to relate to them.

This difficulty of relationship arises because they seem to be refusing many of the social conventions of living together. For example, it seems that they have not taken bath or washed clothes, they wear tattered clothes. Some times shoeless children can be seen in minus zero temperatures of Bologna winter in small sweaters, shivering in the tremendous cold. They often speak loudly and use offensive language. Some of them smell of alcohol even in the morning so that when they enter the bus, most persons refuse to sit next to them. Some of them, don’t throw the garbage in the boxes but leave it on the road. Sometimes, you can see them taking out garbage bags from the big garbage collection boxes, searching for things that can be sold or recycled, and at the end they walk away leaving all the garbage scattered around on the road.

Some of these things are more about poverty and lack of education, a result of the exclusion, and thus part of a vicious cycle, where exclusion and poverty reinforce more exclusion and poverty.

One of my friend’s wife works with Roma children and according to her the situation of Roma persons in Italy is as bad as Attri describes in his article. They are poor, most of them live in open areas where there is no tap water, no electricity, no sewage disposal. Most of their children, do not go to school or complete it, even if Italy has almost hundred percentage coverage of free universal education.

The unanswered questions

The situation of Roma persons raises so many questions in my mind that I can’t answer and for which, I don’t have any clear understanding. In India, the oppression of Dalits has millenniums-long social tradition, but in Europe, the different socially oppressed groups such as rural poor, were able to throw away the yoke of fiefdoms over the past three hundred years, to create more egalitarian societies, why were Roma persons excluded from this?

Emigrants who don’t share religion, who have different cultures and customs, all have to negotiate how to live with the society that they have chosen to live in. It is not always smooth and there are episodes of racism and discrimination against them. Yet, in a bus, most persons do not move away from an Arab Muslim women whose face is covered with hijab or the African in his long kaftan. Most immigrant children do go to school and are usually the first ones to build bridges with the majority community. The second generations of emigrants do seem to find work and integrate much better.

Jews and Valdes Christians are two of the important minorities in Italy. I am sure that they also experience certain discrimination in at least in some occasions. Yet none of them seems to face the problems that Roma persons do, who have also been in Italy for long time.

I can’t understand the reasons behind this. It seems that by being dirty or being socially disruptive, some Roma persons are saying that they do not want integration and they would like to live as they have always lived, according to their own rules. It is their protest. At the same time, people feel that all Roma persons are like that. They help in perpetuating their own stereotypes?

Is it just poverty that does it? May be it is other cultural issues? May be strong patriarchy that decides who can do what? Perhaps this is only a minority of Roma persons, and there are many more, who have “integrated” and look like other Italians or other emigrants?

May be the roots of nomadism are very strong and integration in the society is an unacceptable goal for some of them?

This article is an extract of a longer article that you can read by clicking here.

Teaching and learning Bharatnatyam: Praveen Kumar

2009-12-08T06:57:00.000+01:00

It was just by chance that I came to know Praveen Kumar, the Bharatnatyam maestro from Bangalore. I was in Delhi for holidays and on the last day of my holiday, on an impulse I decided to go and watch his dance performance at India Habitat centre. I had never seen a male Bharatnatyam dance and it was probably that curiosity that drove me to his performance.

It was wonderful to watch him dance and I clicked lot of his pictures during the dance.

After my return to Italy, I added some of his pictures to Kalpana.it and wrote to him, asking him to look at those pictures and that if wanted I would be happy to send him some pictures in higher resolution. He wrote back to me to thank me, and thus we started to correspond.

In November, when I had an opportunity to come to Bangalore for work, I wrote to him, saying that I would like to see him perform and perhaps also while he taught his students. He had just come back home after a dance tour in UK, and he immediately agreed to meet me in Bangalore.

It was not possible to watch him perform nor to see him teach his students because of my busy work schedule. But one afternoon I visited his home and ate wonderful food cooked by his mother. There was besibhele bhat (rice cooked with vegetables, and spices) sandige (balls of puffed rice mixed with gentle spices) and curd rice, followed by rasgullas.

His dance school Chithkala is part of his house and his home, spartan, simple and full of empty spaces, is very tastefully done, reflects his personality with lot of Ganesh statues. His dance school is one big room in minimalist style with a dancing Natraj on one wall, a Ganesh picture in an angle, and a wall covered with mirrors.

After we ate, I asked him if he would give a small performance for me. You are not suppose to dance with a full stomach, but he agreed to give a small performance. It was very thrilling to know that he was dancing just for me, and it was the most wonderful gift that he could have given me.

All through the lunch and then his dance, we talked about his dancing and his life. Here are some excerpts from this informal talk:

Sunil: It is not common to find male Bharatnatyam dancers. How did you decide to become a dancer?

Praveen: I was always dancing. Then my father said, if you are you interested in dance, learn it properly. I was fifteen at that time, I was in high school, that I started to learn dancing. I continued my studies at the same time and became a graphic designer. For one year, I also had a job as a graphic designer. Then I said that my real passion is dance, and I want to take it up properly. So I gave up my job and took to dancing full time and opened my dance school.

Sunil: And your parents, were they happy with this choice? Normally society does not seem to accept male classical dancers.

Praveen: No actually, my parents supported me.

Sunil: Tell me about your Guru, who taught you dancing?

Praveen: My first Guru is now no more. Now I am a disciple of C.V.Chandrasekhar. He is in Chennai. He is 75 years old and still dances. Perhaps you remember him, he was with me during my performance in Delhi.

Sunil: In Chennai? How does that work? And why did you decide to have him as your guru?

Praveen: It was just like that, by chance. I go to Chennai occasionally to be with him. But now looking back, I am very happy that he accepted me as his disciple. It is not easy to find Gurus like him. Many persons can teach Bharatnatyam. They can teach you specific dances on some songs. But they can’t explain the whole thought process that goes behind composing a dance. My Guru is very good because he does not just teach me specific dance steps, but I can learn about the thought process that goes behind making a specific dance.

Sunil: Do you mean a particular school of dance? He can explain the meanings of gestures and their significance?

Praveen: It is more of a particular style of dancing. Each teacher has his or her own style of dancing, so a Guru teaches you that style.

Sunil: But isn’t classical dance mean that you have rules about specific movements and you have to respect them?

Praveen: Yes, there are specific rules of dancing but it is more than that. You can observe life around you and adapt those in your dancing. You look at organisation of a piece, administration of a performance. Not all Gurus think about those. For example, in salsa you start with your hands in this position (makes a gesture with one hand raised up, palms turned downwards), while in Bharatnatyam you start like this (makes another gesture with one arm lifted and palms held upwards), so you can learn from others and then adapt it and incorporte it in your dance.

Sunil: So your Guru doesn’t only teach you specific steps but he can teach you how a dance performance is created?

Praveen: Yes. For example, you may remember one dance from my performance in Delhi. It is usually not done by male dancers. He proposed that I adapt it for my dance. He wrote the lyrics in front of me. And then it’s music was set up. Perhaps it was the first time that a male dancer was doing that dance. Thus, it is not just about learning steps, but I could see and understand the whole creative process in making in that piece of dance.

Sunil: It must be very fulfilling to have students with whom you can share such knowledge and not limit yourself to teaching some dance steps?

Praveen: Yes, it is very fulfilling. Very few students can appreciate that. Among my thirty students, perhaps one or two can have that kind of commitment.

Sunil: You were talking about salsa. Have you ever been to a discotheque?

Praveen (smiling): Not in India. But I have been to discotheques a few times outside India. A few times, when I was in USA and then also in UK. People think that if someone is a classical dancer, he can’t do the discotheque kind of dance, but it was fun and some persons were very surprised that I was dancing like that.

Sunil: Have you ever been to a modern dance workshop like the Jazz dance?

Praveen: Workshops like that abroad are too costly for me and we don’t have many such opportunities here.

Sunil: Attitudes towards males dancing have changed now? Among your students do you have only female students or also some men?

Praveen: Yes, the attitudes have changed. Now we have more men dancing. Among my students I also have a university assistant professor, who is a man.

Sunil: And do you also get students from outside India?

Praveen: Yes, I have had some students who come from other countries to learn dance.

Conclusions: I think that it is a privilege to be able to look behind the public faces of performers and artists and have a glimpse of their lives and their creative processes. I found this particular conversation important for understanding some facets of the teacher-student relationship in learning Bharatnatyam.

Praveen is a gentle person and I am glad that he opened up so easily to share his thoughts. The memory of him dancing just for me in his dancing room will always remain with me. Thank you Praveen.

You can also check the pictures from Praveen's dance performance in Delhi at Kalpana.it.

Kurbaan and the Muslim Reality

2009-12-06T06:54:00.003+01:00

I was determined to see at least one Hindi film in a proper cinema hall. The last film I had seen at a cinema hall was Jodha Akbar. In Italy, where I live, Bollywood films are not released and I have to wait to come to India to see them in a cinema hall. Last week I was in Bangalore for work and one evening, after the work finished, I walked into the theater and I saw Kurbaan.

Even though I had read in some newspaper that this film has flopped, at least that particular day when I went to see it, the hall in Forum mall of Bangalore, was quite full. Perhaps it was a hit in Bangalore?

Film: Given a chance, I wouldn’t like to see Kurbaan again, even though it did have lot of plus points, especially in terms of acting from the main actors. I liked all of them, especially Kareena Kapoor. She looks good and is great overall, even more in the emotional scenes. Saif, Vivek and veterans like Om Puri and Kirron Kher, all give credible performances.

The plot of the film is tight, it is fast-paced, so the time does run very quickly. The music and the background score are lovely. "Shukran allah" song is my faviourite. Cinematography is wonderful and shots of the explosions and shootings are done like in Hollywood films.

I had read about some debate about the explicit sexual scenes between Saif and Kareena, and indeed there is one such sequence. I think that it is great that Kareena had the strength to do this scene, since in India, all things related to sexuality are usually shrouded in hypocracy. With a clever use of “Rasiya” song in the background, the scene communicates an underlying sense of danger and pathos, even while stretching the limits of sexual moments shown in Indian films.

At the end of the film, from so many scenes, the images of Kareena remain with me. Like the closing image of the film with the unshed tears in her eyes!

Loops in screenplay: Yet there were times, that I felt like laughing in the film, because of its screenplay - it was all a bit childish and unbelievable. Like the reporter deciding to become a part of the terrorist group or the way American policemen were so easily outsmarted by a lone terrorist or the way FBI is shown as clueless, running in circles.

After watching scores of Hollywood dramas about the global reach of American secret services, it does seem different to see them as bumbling idiots. The terrorist can run away from scenes of shootings, even with a bullet in his chest, without the police being able to do anything. May be, as a sign of Indo-American friendship, we can send some sniffer dogs from India to the New York Police department.

Avantika (Kareen Kapoor), the Hindu ladylove of the terrorist, wakes up night to call the reporter, but when she goes to a supermarket with her Appa, why she can’t stop a policeman or a security service person to say that the lady accompanying her is her jailor? And when the old lady is whisked away, she can run to the reporter to cry and plead to him for saving her, but can’t just walk away? Or, even when she knows that men are carrying bombs (while she is unaware that her own bag has one bomb), why can’t she talk to persons in the train or security at train station? If at least they had shown that Appa was carrying a gun and had threatened to kill her, her silence could have looked more believable (Appa does carry a gun but Avantika does not know about it).

So while the film looks and sounds good, if you think about the story, it does seem full of loopholes and not very credible.

Film’s message about Muslims: I had read in some reviews that the film tries to be neutral and explain both the sides, and the reasons of anger among Muslims. However, I found the film’s depiction of Muslims a bit problematic. I felt that the film explains the apparent reasons given by fundamentalists to justify themselves, but it ignores the point of view of the silent majority of Muslims.

Almost all Muslims in the film are shown to be sympathatic towards terrorism and justify it by the American and European greed and barbarism. The only “good” Muslim in the film is the reporter Riyaaz Masud (Vivek Oberoi) along with his girl friend, but even he can’t articulate himself when his father talks about the superiority of religion. His fight seems more motivated by feelings of personal revenge because of death of his lady love in a bomb explosion, rather than from his beliefs.

Reporter’s father (Kulbhushan Kharbanda) clarifies that “for Muslims religion comes first” and the terrorist mastermind (Om Puri) says, “No American is ready to sacrifice himself for his God, as Muslims can do”.

It is true that the Muslim characters shown in the film are limited and the film does not really show the views of other Muslims, who do not believe in terrorism. But, in my opinion, it would have helped to show some Muslims who could articulate that religion is not more important than their country and that no matter what, killing innocents can’t be ever justifed.

Thus the film is a story of a few persons, and can’t be generalised to all Muslims. But at the same time, the film’s take-home message seems to be: you can’t really rely on Muslims. Here some examples of how this message is given in the film:

One of the women in the house is murdered at home and her body is still lying in the basement. Her husband complains about the bad smell, but other ladies in the house can’t smell it and go on with their daily khanas and teas. The message is that Muslim women are all afraid and submissive or die-hard fanatics themselves.

There is a university professor, who helps to get a job as a university professor to a Pakistani terrorist in St. Stephen’s college in Delhi. This same kindly looking professor, who likes to spend hours playing chess in the teachers’ room in the college, happily goes to guard an old man in his house to help the terrorists and smiling threatens to “take care of him”. The message is that even cultured and peaceful persons, are in reality hidden terrorists.

And the Pakistani terrorist, is himself talking about the peace messages in holy Kuraan and about promoting a dialogue among university students about Islam. At the same time, he happily shoots American Policemen and unarmed civilians in his free time. He doesn’t feel pain and can stitch the wound on his chest without fainting. But The brutal assassin has a saving grace, in spite of himself, he is in love with his Hindu wife and in the end, he forgets his bombing mission and kurbaans (sacrifices) himself for his love.

There is the elderly woman (Kiran Kher), wife of the terrorist mastermind. She does not have any qualms in putting a gun on the head of pregnant woman who calls her Appa (elder sister) and who has been living in her care for some days, because “no one is really innocent” and “it is all justified by the American bombings in Afghanistan and Iraq”. Why couldn’t she carry the purse with the bomb herself, you may ask, it would have achieved the same end, without risking to have it on a person who is likely to run if she gets a chance?

When the film finished, I felt that its over-riding message was that no Muslim can be really against terrorism, that you can’t even believe those Muslims who talk about peace and against terrorism. It is great pity that the film gives such a message.

The unrepresented Muslim: On yesterday’s International Herald Tribune, there was an article of Tariq Ahmed, a doctor of Pakistani origin, working in Brigham (USA) titled “The price of being born a Muslim”, where he has written:

The reality is that the vast majority of Muslims are secular. We do not pray five times a day, do not read Koran and have not spent much time inside a mosque. We only turn to Islam when a child is born, someone gets married or someone dies. ... We certainly have no interest in participating in civilizational battles. We are in fact loathed by religious minority. And yet we have no clear voice, no representation and no one in the Western world appears to be aware of our existence. Every time a terrorist attack occurs, we suffer the most.

I feel that there is need to represent these persons in film and to help express their point of view.

For majority of people in the world, it does not matter if they are Hindus, Christians, Jews or Muslims, religions and religious books are important in certain moments of their lives, but their lives are not limited by what these books say or do not say. They do not follow everything said by those who claim to be their religious leaders. Kurbaan does not say much on behalf of these persons.

Writing in the time of conflict

2009-10-31T21:50:00.002+01:00

Recently I had the opportunity to listen to three writers talk about the conflicts in their countries and how it affects and influences their writing. This seminar was part of a wider event organised by Italian weekly Internazionale. The three writers were Suad Amiry from Palestine, Romesh Gunesekera from Sri Lanka and Abdourahman Waberi from Djibuti and talking to them was Italian journalist Maria Nadotti.

It was a fascinating discussion and for a long time I kept on thinking about it. Here are a few excerpts from this seminar.

Maria: Suad Amiry’s family was originally from Palestine, but they had to leave their countries before her birth and she was born in Damascus. However, she went back to live in Ramallah in Gaza some years ago. Palestine is composed of Gaza and Cis-Jordan, not connected to each other.

Gaza is a narrow strip of land along the coast, 6-14 km wide and about 40 km long. In this area live 1.537.000 persons, that means 472 persons per square km.

Cis Jordan is about 6000 square km area, its borders are not defined exactly, with a population of about 2.5 million Palestinians and about half a million Isrealis.

Suad: Talking about Palestine, it is a country that is shrinking all the time. At the beginning of century (Note: I think that she means the beginning of previous century - nineteen hundred), Palestine was four times as it is today.

In Palestine, space and time do not have significance. What I mean by that is that if I go out of the house to go to Jerusalem, which is only 15 km away from Ramallah. In a place like Ferrara, you can say “15 km means 15 minutes”. But in Palestine, those 15 km between Ramallah and Jersualem can take you 15 minutes, can take you 2 hours, could take you a whole day, may be you never reach Jerusalem, may be you never come back.

Thus the notion of the state of Palestine, in a situation of occupation, is different. Palestine is more or less the size of the island of Alba in Italy, but it has 500 check-points. These check points don’t separate Palestine from Isreal, they really separate Palestine from Palestine.

So if you talk of geography and if you look at the map of Palestine, it looks like a swiss cheese. Maria has asked me to talk about geography of Palestine so you see, it is an Arab country and has Arab culture, but we can never get to any Arab country because of the occupation.

The world media is only interested in bombardments and the suicide bombings, Abu Mazen and Yassef Arafat. No one really cares about three and half million persons under occupation. For me occupation means that space around me keeps on changing. I am an architect and I see that change. I became a writer purely by accident. Because of building of settlements, because of occupation, because of building of wall, we live in a changijng place all the time.

May be you have seen “Cinema Paradiso”, where the whole village goes into estrangement because one cinema, one building is gone. In Palestine, we live thousands of “Cinema Paradiso” because when I go out I am not sure what I am going to find.

Maria: Here we are talking of small countries, that are becoming even smaller. For political erosion, as in Palestine. For geographical erosion and migrations as in Sri Lanka and Djibuti.

My question is that migrations make a country smaller and at the same time, in another way, enlarge it. They multiply it. What would I know about those other countries without the voices of the emigrants? Writing about your countries from outside or from inside? What happens when you write about your countries from far away? Not just far away physically but also far away in memories? What do we know about our countries after thirty years of not living there? How does that differ from writing about it, living there in the middle of daily routines?

Suad who lives there, writes her daily happenings, an on going dialogue. While Romesh and Waberi write much more through evocation.

Romesh: This is complicated. People feel that you have to write about what you know or where you come from. There is a kind of pressure on you to write about certain things. Like some American writers feel that they can write only about the good things in America and not about the trash, even if trash is from where great literature comes.

There is an assumption that where you come from, that might affect your writing. One of my Indian writer friends, when he saw my first book, a very slim book, he said that it is because I come from a small island. He doesn’t write very big books but he believes that being from a large country, he has so much to cover and his canvas is going to be very large. May be there is an element of truth here.

How you write about a country when you are far away from it, is not an issue, because I am a writer of fiction. Unlike the writers of happenings, when you write fiction, in your imagination you are actually there. I am interested in the connection between the real world and the fictional world, but anyone who reads fiction and is excited by it, knows that there is an area of frisson between the real and the imaginary world. You are writing about a place and about people, which is true and also not true. That is why people love to go to the places where fiction is placed. Like, if you like James Joyce, people go to Dublin and they walk on the street where Leopold Bloom walked, they stop where he stopped and they know that he never existed and he never walked on that street. It is all in imagination. I think that connection is what is interesting.

Suad: As Maria said, I became a writer thanks to Sharon and my mother in law. I lived my life as an architect and being an architect is a state of mind. As writers also we are in a state of mind. “Murad Murad” is my fourth book, but I really can’t say that I am a writer. I can tell you what I do, how I live in my writing.

My first book “Sharon and my mother in law” came as a result of curfew for 42 days. My mother in law was ninety one year old and she came to live with me during those days. I tell Isrealis that one day I may forgive you for putting us under a curfew for 42 days but I will not forgive you for making my mother in law live with me. With her, those 42 days seemed like 42 years.

There were Isreali soldiers outside our house and I had my mother in law inside the house. So I had double occupation. Those of you who follow the news, you know that Isreali occupation is enough to drive you crazy but having my mother in law made me a writer. So what happened was that every day I would sit at home and write what ever was happening in our home, between my mother in law and I.

I wrote about going shopping when they lift the curfew for two hours and you can go out and buy everything you need, imagine eighty thousand people trying to shop all together. It was a mad house. I wasn’t thinking of writing. I was writing emails to friends, telling them that please do not share these with anybody, because they were so nasty about my mother in law. Little did I realize that people like nastiness, they liked them because of their frankness. It was reporting that was not intended to become a book.

Actually it could be fictional because living in Palestine is so unreal. Sometimes, I ask when is reality? I don’t say what is reality, I say, when is reality? It is true that I am reporitng from everyday experience. People keep on asking me, is that real, is that true? I write for real, what people think may be fiction.

My second book, “No sex in the city” (Note: I am just translating from the Italian title that she quoted, actual original title may be different) was about Ramallah. That book was instigated and triggered by Hamas winning the elction in Palestine. That was so drammatic in my life, being a woman who was active, like I was active in PLO (Palestine Liberation Organisation). I have been involved in it all my life, it is a secular movement. We always felt that we worked for women’s issues and secularism. To be one of the first countries of the world that would elect a religious party was drammatic, it made me loose reality. It made me think about who am I, what country am I living in, what future do I have? I felt that I have spent so many years of life to convey to the world that Palestinians are normal human beings, and then with election of Hamas!

I wanted to say that Palestinians are normal human beings, that Moslems are normal persons and those elections pushed me to write about the life of my women friends. I wanted to call that book “Palestinian Menopause” but the editor was afraid of the “menopause” in the title, and then the title was “No sex in the city” and that was fine because no one is afraid of the word “sex” in Italy.

It is about the life of women friends and about very real stories about how people became Palestinian. It is not about Palestinians. Only when I wrote that book, I realized that my women friends, the menopausal group with whom we go out every day, one is Egyptian, one is Moroccan, one is Armenian, one is American, hardly there is a Palestinian except for me, and I am half Palestinian and half Syrian. What brought us together was because of Palestine, as a cause rather than as a geography.

My last book is again from a harsh reality. The reality of building that wall, that is a concrete wall. But for me that wall is not a physical thing. It is a monster. If you ask Palestinians to tell about three events that marked the history of Palestine, they will say 1948 when 800,000 people were thrown out of historical Palestine that became Isreal and my family happened to be one of them from Jaffa; then they would say the setting up of those 500 check-points inside a small area, that prevents us from moving; and the third would be the wall.

Let me explain how this book “Murad Murad” came about. The wall is such a reality that I always ask – what would have happened if we Palestinians or Arabs around all the Jewish state of Isreal, how would the world treat us? It is beyond me, I don’t know whether it is a reality or fiction, that Isrealis, who everyday talk about need for peace, want to be part of the middle east, built that wall that separates them from their future neighbours.

Murad was like my mother in law in my other book, “Sharon and my mother in law”. My mother in law, who was ninety one year old, for me was a symbol of resistance. For her the curfew didn’t matter, she wanted her milk in the morning at seven o’clock. No matter what happened, she wanted to have lunch at one o’clock. So to me she was a symbol of resitence, of wanting to live a normal life in spite of the curfew imposed by Isrealis. Murad was symbolised same resistance to me.

I contemplated, how would I write about the wall? Then I thought that I want to write about the wall from an animal’s point of view. We human beings are so egocentric. The first things that hurt me about the wall was the one million five hundred thousand olive trees that were uprooted for this wall to be constructed. I was thinking what would a deer or a hare would think of this wall. Then Murad appeared one day in my life. He is a twenty one year old boy, who has been working in Isreal for the last seven years of his life. He woke up one day like the other 200,000 Palestinian workers, who had spent all their lives there and were told by Sharon that “No more illegal Palestinian workers coming to work in Isreal.”

We are all aware of issues of migrations and workers, but it is very difficult for me to think of Palestinian workers being illegal in their homes.

Abdourahman: Coming to the question of reality and fiction, it is very complicated. I often have this discussion with my students and ask them what is reality? If you go to the Piazza Trento and you shoot a video there near a lively place outside a café and then you go ten minutes later and the place is empty, so what is reality? I think that reality is something untrackable, something fluid.

Having written eight-nine books on my small country, I realize that I am not writing just from reality’s point of view or from geopolitical point of view, but I am also writing about something that is depper than reality, something that is country of my imagination that is mixed and overlapping with the country of reality. You have history, geography, mythology, etc. so this geological overlapping is something that you try to pierce or break into pieces by the use of the language or the use of imagination.

My writing has to do with both, with reality and also with mythology and history. That is why I use fables like in this book “In the United States of Africa”. That “In” in the title signals that everything has happened, and the purpose of the book is to say that United States of Africa is a reality. It has been created by imagination. I start by taking it forward from there, that so what would happen? From this point of view, you can create distance and you can also produce criticism, what I call social criticism. You start with imagination and from that imagination, you can create a political action.

You can write like that about Palestine, how it was in 1844 and how it could be in 1984 and thus it can exist in the heads of the readers without polemics or whatever. Why I wrote this book, because I was an African in Europe or an European African, I have been for so long in France that I have been Francised, so what I am asking is who am I and who are we in this world?

I am asking if all Europe wants to emigrate to Africa, what would happen? Then you would see the issue of emigration and work, one of the key issues of today, from a different point of view. That is what I have tried.

Actually I am ready with a new book that is called “Passage of tears” that is looking at Djibuti in recent times. That is looking at two important areas – the Islamic discourse in the public and social space that is often linked to Al Qaeda and Bin Laden, and a new interpretation of Islam for a new political agenda. The country is changing also because of interest of the Persian gulf in Africa. Djibuti had strong exclusive links with France, but it is no longer the case. In Djibuti you have French, because France is an important partner within the global agenda, but you also have the US because it has the biggest military base in Africa in Djibuti. Then you have influence from Afghanistan, Iraq, Yemen and all those places. And in the book it is framing the situation from social and economic point of view. Having said that I am also trying to build some kind of historical connection between Djibuti of today and the France of the fascist Arab days, that situation of nineteen thirties and fourties in France, at that time Djibuti was a colony. This is a way of making the landscape and making new perspectives. It has to do with geropolitical situation and with history.

Romesh: I can add to that because it struck me that even with fiction, the reader is getting news from some where. It tell you about real things even if it is not reality. My last book, The Match, part of it is set in the Philippines in the nineteen seventies when I grew up there. I was a little worried when I did that, wondering if I new enough about it or if I could do it well. When the book was published, I was very interested in reactions from the people in Philippines.

Philippines is a country of young people and so most people and most people who read the book were not there in the nineteen seventies, so it is a new country in a sense. To read about that for them was to read about a different place. The other feed back that I got was that newspapers etc. you don’t have to be Philippino to understand the country, you just have to be there or you just have to imagine it to redefine the way you think about the place.

That made me think of something that Russian writer Nobokov said about fiction, when you read something and you sense the excitement or a sense of fear of the character, what you sense is actually quite often the real sense of writer behind that who has a sense of excitement or fear about the sentences that he or she is dealing it, it comes out of the words themselves.

Comment: It was a fascinating morning listening to the three writers. I felt the three of them also symblised three different ways of bring a writer. For me Abdourahman's way of talking about his work seemed more intellectual, Romesh's way of articulating seemed more emotional, while Suad seemed more rooted in irony.

I liked all three of them, and I also liked the way Maria probed them, but I was struck very much by Suad's way of narrating her daily dilemmas. There is so much rhetoric all around about human rights, democracy and other such ideals and yet listening to her and what happens in Palestine is a cruel reminder of the distance between reality and rhetoric.

After the meeting I talked some more with Romesh. I asked him if the main protagonist in his new book "The Match" is more autobiographical in the sense that it is about a person who has forgotten his roots and then in the middle age, rediscovers them, and that emigrant writers often touch on this theme of rediscovering their roots, sooner or later in their writings. Romesh said that almost all important writers are emigrants, from Shakespear to Dante, which I found very intriguing.

Reclaiming my faith

2009-10-31T21:38:00.001+01:00

It was January and sister Leela, an old friend and a nun from India, was with us that evening. Marco and Atam, my son and daughter in law, had come for dinner. Leela recited her prayers asking God to bless all the persons sitting around that table and made a sign of cross. All others murmured "Amen" and made signs of cross, including my Sikh daughter in law. I didn't.

A few days later, we were having dinner in the evening, when I told my wife what was troubling me. I had grown up in India, where I had learned that we respect all religions. As a child and a growing up man, in India, if I visited a Gurudwara of Sikhs, I would cover my head and kneel before Guru Granth Saheb, if I visited a church, I made a sign of cross, if I visited a temple I would fold my hands and accept the vermillion mark on my forehead.

We were not a religious family. Rather, I would say that I heard much more criticisms about Hinduism. My mother often complained about "hypocrisy in the temples and wasting precious milk and ghee on stupid rituals that can feed so many poor". My paternal grandmother, wrote "Ram, Ram" countless times on sheets of paper to espiate her sin of being a widow and read religious books. We would go to all Ramleelas and Durga Pujas with very non religious excitement of "having a good time" and hoping to get some tasty prasad to eat.

In Rajendra Nagar, where we lived, on one side we had Sajid bhai and his wife Ireen with their two children, and above them the very religious Sharma family. There were many Sikh families in our street. But my closest friend was Sam, who had come from Hyderabad to stay with his aunt, Mrs. Rock. With him, I had gone to a few mid-night Christmas masses.

Yet, religions of the persons were not something so clear in my mind. Like Akhtar bhai, who must have been just 5-6 years older to me and who used to come to our home to meet my father, I had never thought of him as "Muslim". When I had to go to Udaipur for an interview, I stayed with Haseena ji's family, a friend of my father, without really thinking that I was going to a "Muslim" house.

Perhaps those times were different and today religious identities and differences have become much more marked, but I often find myself thinking of the past and classifying persons by their religions, like I did above for Sajid bhai, Akhtar bhai and Sam. It feels wrong to me yet I can't stop myself from doing it. And it all started about two decades ago, when I decided that I will not make the sign of a cross.

Coming to Italy was what started this change. People here are more used to sharp religious boundaries and perhaps most of them expect persons to follow those boundaries clearly. "If you are not Catholic and you are not even a Christian, why do you make the sign of cross?" an Italian priest once asked me. I tried to explain that it was normal in India, that going to a church or making the sign of cross did not make me less Hindu, but it showed that I respected the others, but he was clearly not convinced.

That priest was not the only one. It happened a few more times. They said that it was "hypocrisy" or "ambiguous" or "dishonest" or "an attempt to conform and to ingratiate". I was angry and hurt and I stopped making the sign of cross in a church. Thus, whenever I accompanied my wife to a mass, I would stand stiffly, showing clearly that I was not Catholic.

It hurt me inside and every time I entered a church as a tourist, I felt that I was disrespecting God by not stopping to pray for a few moments. I knew that it was not rational. How does it matter to God if I pray inside me or I show it with folded hands or with a sign of cross? A temple or a mosque or a church is just a building and God is no more or no less there than in any other building? I tried to explain it to myself, to justify it, but I felt as I had violated something at deeper level inside me.

It was the first time, I was actually talking about it. I told my wife all this. She felt that I should not let myself be influenced by what others say or think about my religious ideas, but I should behave in the way I wish.

In April, when I visited India, I talked about it with Daisy and like my wife, she had the same advice for me, to behave in the way I felt inside me and not let myself be influenced by others.

Understanding something rationally is perhaps different from the emotional understanding, when something comes from deep inside you? I had the rational understanding but I was waiting for my inner self to understand it.

Finally it came on last Sunday. I was in Rome, visiting an old church. There was just an old woman sitting and praying. I made my peace with myself as my hands made the gesture of cross.

Actually I have not changed my way of thinking. The statues or the temple or the church or the mosque, do not make any difference to me, since I feel God is there in everything, in all beings live or inanimate. But I feel happier, I have reclaimed my right to respect the religions in way I feel right. If others feel that I am being a hypocrite or ambiguous, they are welcome to think what ever they wish.

Reincarnation of Arre kya ...

2009-09-27T11:44:00.004+02:00

This blog is closed. It is getting reincarnated on Wordpress. Have a look at the new Arre Kya Baat Hai.

Sorry, that was a false allarm. Wordpress may be cooler, but probably I am old and used to my old ways. So after a short stint in Wordpress, I am back here!

Bollywood has arrived in Italy

2009-08-16T12:01:00.002+02:00

These days there is a Bollywood wave in Italy after a series of Hindi films were shown on Italian national TV channel on prime time.

Compared to some of other western European countries like UK, France, Germany or Netherlands, Italy has a limited population of Indians and perhaps for this reason, Bollywood films were almost unknown in Italy till recently. There were persons who liked Bollywood and who watched Hindi films with English sub-titles but their numbers were extremely limited. On the other hand, there have always been some persons interested in world cinema, the kind of persons who go to film festivals and many of these persons were aware of the realistic films that usually make it to film festivals but they were not into the usual masala films of Bollywood.

During the past twenty years, I am only aware of two occasions when Indian films made it to the Italian TV and in both instances these films were broadcasted late in the night – one was Kagaaz ke phool by Gurudutt and the second was Lagaan by Ashutosh Gowarikar.

Italy doesn’t have a culture of subtitled films and all films must be dubbed into Italian. Many years ago a dubbed version of Deewar was released in Italy but it didn’t find any audience. More recently Lagaan, Mission Kashmir and Sawaariya were released in dubbed versions but none of them made it to any cinema halls and were only released on DVDs.

Perhaps the change came with the films made by expatriate Indian film directors like Mira Nayar, Deepa Mehta and Gurvinder Chadha. Mira nayar’s Salaam Bombay and more recently, Monsoon Wedding & The Namesake, Deepa Mehta’s Water and Gurvinder Chadha’s East is East and Bend it like Backham, all had theater releases, DVDs and TV broadcasts.

Then in the TV “dead-season” in summer 2008 the national channel RAI had shown 3 Hindi films (“Cheeni Kum”, “Hum Tum” and “Aur ho gaya na”). In summer, Italians go on holidays and TV viewership goes down and that is the time when usually old reruns of TV serials and films are shown. In 2008, there was some awareness of Bollywood first created. Then in 2009, this experiment was repeated and it started in July with “Namastey London”. The waves this year have been much bigger since the film topped the viewership ratings of the Saturday primetime.

Since then, on successive Saturdays, it has been Bollywood time on RAI and each time it tops the viewership ratings. Thus the series that was supposed to stop at end of July was extended to mid-August and now it seems it will go on till end of August. The other films shown so far in this season include – Fanaa, Salaam Namastey, Jab We Met, Laaga Chunri Mein Daag and Mujhse Dosti Karoge. Next saturday will be the turn of Dil Ka Rishta.

Suddenly people want to know about Hrithik Roshan, Saif Ali Khan, Rani Mukherjee, Preity Zinta and Kajol. My Italian blog Awaragi, where occasionally I wrote about Bollywood films, used to get about 10-15 hits a day and now on Sundays after the the Bollywood nights, the number of hits reach upto 700-800. Suddenly as an "expert" on Bollywood I am in demand with people writing in to ask about meanings of the words of the songs or other things related to Bollywood.

The Hindi films shown on RAI are reduced versions from which most of the songs and some scenes are removed. They last around 1 hour and 40 minutes so that with the ad-breaks they finish in 2 hours. For example in Salaam Namastey, the whole Javed Jaffery track and parts of the final hospital scene were removed, along with the songs. Unfortunately, even those background songs that are left in the film, are without subtitles so people write to ask for meanings. Initially, especially in 2008, the dubbing was strange with persons using sing-song voices, sounding caricatures of Indians like Peter Sellers in The Party, but that has improved considerably. All these films are mainly romantic films and perhaps for that reason, majority of feedback I have received is from women.

I think that this opens up a new market for Hindi films in Italy, especially in terms of DVDs. Right now, no Hindi film has proper Italian subtitles – most Italian subtitles in Hindi DVDs seem to be done with automatic translation software that often butchers the meanings. Italy is flooded with low quality pirated Hindi DVDs aimed at Indian, Bangladeshi and Pakistani emigrants. People write to me asking for Bollywood films dubbed into Italian or with proper Italian subtitles, but I don’t have any clue about what to advice to give to them.

I hope that Indian film-makers and international distributors can read it and take necessary steps to safeguard the interests of the Indian film industry.

New Italian Sex Symbol Is A Cow?

2009-07-18T09:50:00.000+02:00

Yesterday’s news papers had a picture of the new Italian sex symbol – Cristina del Basso. Miss del Basso became known to the Italian public as one of the participants of the last season of Italian reality show Grande Fratello 9 (Big brother 9) and was immediately noticed for her very generous attributes.

It seems that ever since, Miss del Basso’s fame has been growing and her pictures with these huge tits hanging out were splashed all over newspapers yesterday because she is the new calender girl for the Panorama magazine 2009-2010 calender that came out yesterday.

These huge mammeries are not how the nature had made them, they have been surgically enhanced, but then in todays Facebook-Twitter era, the competition to get noticed is so high, that all help is welcome. I don’t think saliva-dripping hormone strung guys are complaining. I am just a little bit worried about her gravity-related problems, but probably I need not worry as she must be using some strong back-support to compensate for the forward-downwards pull.

Watching Miss del Basso’s pictures, I was reminded of a programme about cows with massive tits and fast-growing huge chickens that I had seen on Italian channel Rai 3 sometime ago. “Report”, this programme goes behind the scenes to dig deeper and understand the issues. They explained that in the Agro-food industry, to earn profits by supplying to big supermarket chains, one must increase production to very high levels.

So they have these Dutch Frisona cows, that stand in rows whole day, blocked above troughs carrying their food, munching antibiotics and hormone enriched cereals mixed with some other things (cow bone powder is no longer given to them after the mad-cow disease scare, they assure), and automated milking machines are attached to their tits so that each cow gives up to 60 to 90 liters of milk every day.

These cows never see those green grassy hills, where they shoot the lovely milk advertisements for enticing public to drink more milk. Within one or two years, these cows are literally pumped out completely, they can’t have any more calfs and their milk production goes down, so they end up in steak houses. It is a factory line production, where new cows come and old ones go to the butcher.

There are chickens as well. Thousands of chickens closed inside enclosures, packed tightly so that they look a beautiful furry carpet and like the cows, they spend all their days eating the feed fortified with antibiotics and hormones. In just 3 weeks they weigh 3.5 to 3.8 kg, ready to be packed and put on the supermarket shelves.

It is not very clear what those antibiotics do to the human beings who eat this meat but they are probably not very harmful as there is no ban on using antibiotics in animal & bird feeds.

If the idea of fucked up cows and chickens excites you, you can watch that episode of “Report” on their website. In the mean time, you can search for more pictures of Cristina del Basso or become her fan on Facebook.

After all it is just a question of markets. While Cristina del Basso may have decided to get screwed out of choice to enhance her attributes, while the dutch frisona cows have no choice but to be part of assembly production line, in the end both, the sex symbol and the cows, are praying to the same market god.

Looking for Karl Marx

2009-07-11T07:51:00.007+02:00

When I heard that Karl Marx's grave is in London, I was very surprised. Poor Marx. Wonder, how he feels surrounded by all the testosterone driven city yuppies the world capital of free market and globalisation.

I had reached London on 8th July afternoon. After I finished my meeting in Euston, I decided to take the underground to Archway and walk to highgate London cemetery, to take a look at old friend Marx's grave.

This time, I had decided to ignore the weather predictions on BBC. Everytime, they say it is going to rain and I carry an umbrella with me, I find a sunny London. So this time, it did decide to rain. The way to highgate rises on a steep hill, it is supposed to be the highest spot in London, so soon I was breathless and more than a little wet.

Finally when I did reach the cemetery, I found that it was closed. In spite of all their claims about London being the financial hub of the world, free markets and all, so many places continue to observe the office times, from 10 AM to 5 PM. I guess, even the cemetery workers need to go out and enjoy the long summer evenings and visiters can very well take a leave if they wish to visit their dead.

So after all my efforts, in the end I could just take a picture of the entrance of the cemetery, that has a sign that no videos and pictures can be taken inside. However, the walk back to Archway was downhill and much more easier, and it was not raining anymore.

I took the underground to Leicester square, where I was supposed to change to the Piccadilly line. In spite of the cold and wind, it was too early to go back to the hotel, so I decided to walk around Leicester square. The London rickshaws with Savanna ads painted over them, outside the Leicester underground station, looked kind of cute.

However, like the Highgate cemetery, even in Leicester square, teeming with tourists, the park in the middle of the square was already closed. With the summer and the sunlight till 9 PM, it seems funny that parks are closed when people come out of the offices. In the park, I could see a small black that looked like Charlie Chaplin, so I decided to take a picture of the park with the zoom.

Then, I walked over to the Trafalgar square. The fourth statueless plinth in Trafalgar square is hosting "living sculptures" by Antony Gormley these days. The concept of this initiative is interesting. Starting from 6 July, a new person will get a place for one hour on the plinth to be a living sculpture and persons will keep on changing every day, 24 hours, till October. A total of 2400 persons are expected to participate in this very inclusive art event and anyone can apply through a website. This website also has a live webcam of the plinth.

When I arrived in Trafalgar square, a lady dressed in red was trying to set up a playing card statue, but with strong wind, the cards were refusing to stay in position and some of them flew off the plinth into the safety net and in the square.

While walking around in the square, near one of those statues sprouting water into the fountain, I heard an Indian father tell his young son in Hindi, "Beta dekho, woh baccha kulli kar raha hai" (Son, look that child is gargling).

Yuck! I didn't want to go near the kulli-water anymore.

By that time, there was some commotion near the fourth plinth. It seemed that the next participant who was supposed to go up as a living sculpture, had not arrived. Finally Sandy Nairne, director of National Portrait gallery, went up as a substitute and sat there sketching something.

From Trafalgar square, I walked towards Piccadilly, where as usual, hordes of tourists were sitting around the Mercury statue, that always reminds me of the god of love, Kamdev, from Indian mythology.

Tired from all the walking, finally I decided to go back to the hotel.

On 9th July, I had an early morning meeting with a French-Italian friend, who is married to an Indian. For our breakfast we went to a small Italian place in one of the small streets near Euston. The place had old pictures of Sorrento, but none there spoke any Italian. Perhaps the original Italian place was bought over by someone else?

I had to go to another meeting near Russel square and there was some time for that, I decided to walk, pulling my suitcase trolley behind me.

When we finished with the meeting, I thought that I could spend a couple of hours in the British museum nearby, as they are having different exhibitions and events linked to India under the Indian Summer initiative. However, the guard at the museum told me that my suitcase was too big for the cloakroom and so he couldn't allow me to enter.

Again I walked back to Euston to kill some time and then took the underground to Victoria. Since it was cloudy and windy, so walking was good fun (after a month in the buring 42 degrees of Delhi, my evident joy at clouds and wind is easy to understand, though most of my European friends are a little perplexed by it).

I still had four hours for my flight back to Italy, so decided to walk to Buckingham palace from Victoria station.

The buildings around Victoria station have a mix of old and new architecture. The golden coloured statue on the old Victoria theater looks strange against the ugly looking high rise building, but some other glass buildings made for much better contrast against the old British architecture.

Buckingham palace area was crowded with tourists. It must be weak British pound that has brought back tourists from all over to UK.

Finally it was the time to take the train back to Gatwick airport but I was quite satisfied by my walking initiatives.

There was a time, when I hardly saw anything in the cities I visited for work. I have been to so many countries and cities, where I saw just the airports and the hotels. But I like my new me, the one who decides to walk, to get lost, to talk to people and to get a feel for the people and the cities. It is more tiring and but also so relaxing!

And, I love clicking with my digital camera. So that I may not spend a lot of time walking around as a tourist, but then I can look at the pictures back home and try to see things that I didn't have time to stop and admire.

Delhi's Coming Out

2009-07-02T20:27:00.034+02:00

I had heard about the Delhi Queer Pride parade, planned on 28 June 2009. But it was going to be in Connaught Place and it was supposed to start at around 5.30 PM, which probably meant that it wouldn’t start moving at least till 6 PM. So I was sure that I could not participate in it. I was in Delhi to look after my mother, who can’t be left alone. After preparing the dinner, the maid usually leaves around 7 PM and there was no way to go to the parade and then be back in home by 7 PM.

That whole week had been terribly hot, just putting the head out of the door felt like being a cake getting cooked inside an oven. And I was sweating so much! 5 minutes after coming out of the house, I was already looking like Shiv ji who has just received river Ganga on his head, streams of sweat running all around me. Probably in all these years of being away from India, my body mechanisms have forgotten how to deal with the Delhi summer, since I couldn’t see anyone else around me sweating so much.

Thus the heat was another reason, I felt that I couldn’t go the Delhi Queer Pride.

I wanted to. I had not been in Delhi in June for the past 25 years and I am not likely to come back here again in June (if I can help it)! So this was my only chance to see it. I had been to the Queer Pride parades in Italy and I had loved it with their wonderful music and colourful floats.

And then on Sunday 28, we woke up to a cloudy sky. During the night, the breeze coming in from the window had turned very pleasant. It was still a little hot and humid, yet the clouds were a sign of hope. The morning newspapers had talked about the Pride but didn’t give any practical information about it. However a search on internet took me to the Delhi Queer Pride website, that had all the practical information. People were supposed to collect at the Tolstoy Marg-Barakhamba road crossing at 5 PM.

What if I leave home around 4 PM, reach Tolstoy Marg-Barahkhamba road crossing by 5 PM, stay there for about 30 minutes and then, come back home, aiming to reach home by 6.30 PM, I thought. OK, I will take the decision in early afternoon, finally I decided. If the clouds stayed, it was a sign from the heavens that I should go, I told myself.

The heavens were definitely in favour of my going, and they showed it by a small shower in the afternoon, and I was there at the starting venue just before 5 PM. There were no floats, and compared to the Pride Parade in Bologna, which is a city of half of million persons, the group gathered there was really tiny. but persons were in high spirits and it was colourful with masks and all kinds of shining-feathery dresses. It was still very hot and some of the heavily made-up drag queens were literally melting down, but still they were busy laughing and preening themselves, like peacocks forced to hide in the darkness of caves, suddenly out in the daylight and enjoying this day of freedom.

There were a lot of policemen all around, but they were relaxed. There were even more journalists, TV reporters, video-cameras and photographers, who were busy looking for persons willing to talk in front of the cameras.

The Pride manifesto explains the basic issues facing the sexual minorities in India:

“400 years ago, the word “queer” meant odd or unusual. 100 years ago, the word was used as an insult for anyone who was different from the society’s norm of gender and sexually “correct” behaviour. It was used to demean and marginalise people. Today, people across the world have reclaimed that word to empower, celebrate and unite people of diverse genders and sexualities. With the rainbow as our symbol of beauty in diversity, we celebrate Queer Pride in solidarity with queer people across the world.

Queer Pride is about celebrating who we are, whether gay, kothi, lesbian, queen, dyke, transgender, bisexual, hijra, butch, paanthi … whether manly looking women or men who sleep with men, whether sex worker or sex changer, Queer Pride affirms our diverse expressions and our everyday struggle for respect and dignity.

Today in India, lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender and intersex (LGBTI) people face violence and discrimination from different quarters. Here are some examples of our daily oppression:
Lesbians are subject to violence, forced into marriage and even driven to commit suicide by their families.
Gay men are blackmailed by organized scandals that often involve the police.
Hijras are routinely arrested and raped by the police.
Same sex couples who have lived together for years, can not buy a house together or will their property to each other or even adopt a child as a couple if they wish.
LGBTI people are constantly mocked, demeaned and denied their basic human rights of self-expression.

All this is happening because section 377 of the Indian penal code treats LGBTI people as criminals. It has been used to arrest, prosecute, terrorize and blackmail sexual minorities. It has strengthened the already existing stereotypes, hatred and abuse in homes, schools, workplaces and streets, forcing millions of LGBTI people to live in fear and silence at tragic cost to themselves and their families.”

Thus the Pride is asking for change of section 377 as well for affirmative legislation to support the rights and dignities of LGBTI persons.

I also tried to identify some persons willing to talk and tell about their views. Most persons were shy, afraid, and some were clearly traumatised. Finally Anil and his friend agreed to say a few words. My initial questions got the usual answers that most young men with alternate sexuality give, “I am gay, I am proud to be gay and it is nice to be able to come out here but it is so difficult to find acceptance from parents and society.”

Anil is a counsellor for men who have sex with men (MSM) and are affected with HIV, and he works with a NGO. I knew a bit about HIV issues among women sex workers and I was curious to know about similar issues among gay men, “Women sex workers, even if they know about HIV, can’t always ensure that their clients use condoms, because they are powerless while clients can force them into unsafe sex. Does that happen to gay men also?” “Yes, it is exactly the same for gay men” he told me.

I also spoke to Ritu Parna who works for a women’s organisation. She was much more willing to speak and more articulate. Ritu said, “I am a queer activist. I have been actively involved in my support to the GLBTI movement and also involved in organising the Pride as part of a community, that is also the "Pride committee", as there is no formal organisation as such.”

“How do you form a community in a society like the Indian society?” I asked.

“It is difficult because there is social stigma against it. But we make community through bonding, through shared experiences, others they face our same issues, so we know there are other queer people, who will be with us. So it is an informal network. There also some formal organisations that are working in this area like Sangma in Bangalore that works for sexual minorities.”

“What are the strategic issues related to the women in the movement?”

“The issues faced by other women are also the issues of queer women. Like domestic violence. When a lesbian comes out in the family she faces more domestic violence. Or the sexual harassment, a lesbian women also faces the same or may be even more harassment. Because of the sexuality, they face greater challenges. In terms of gender, they are exploited by the society.”

“In terms of GLBTI movement, in Europe it is felt that transgender persons face greater difficulties and even among the movement they are marginalised. What is the situation in India?” I asked her.

Ritu was not so sure about this, “It might be relatively, but it may differ from place to place. The hetero-normative society discriminates against all those who are different and in that sense transgender persons also face discrimination. But in our movement, we don’t discriminate, and you can see how many transgender persons are there today in this Pride.”

Ritu agreed to give a small message to the Italian GLBTI movement, “We are all the same, we need your support, we are also with you, we love you all.”

It was nice talking to Ritu and I would have loved to speak to many more persons. For example, I would have liked to know if class and social backgrounds are also an issue in the movement, and how do they deal with it? I did try to speak to a couple of other persons, but they all seemed to be afraid of talking and in the end, I gave up.

My 30 minutes for the Pride were over so quickly and soon I had to look for an auto and come back home. On my journey back home, I was thinking about another group of persons, who face greater barriers in the GLBTI movement, not only in India but all over the world. That is, persons with disabilities. In the Delhi Queer Pride, I didn’t see any one on a wheelchair, or a blind or a person with obvious disability. Perhaps there could have been some deaf gay or lesbian persons, that I didn't meet.

Both, sexual minorities and disabled persons, face isolation, discrimination, stigma, barriers and violations of human rights. Disabled persons who are also sexual minorities face even greater barriers, more so if they are women.

However, I feel that India has a very strong disability movement and in some countries, transgender persons are a strong component of disability movement. I hope that the strong Indian disability movement and the budding GLBTI (Gay, Lesbian, Bisexuals, Transgenders & Intersexuals) movement will join hands and support each other. Fight against discrimination requires unity.

In the evening, the coverage in the 24x7 news channels was quite uneven. On some channels, the kind of language they were using, was aimed at sensationalising and a little bit offensive. Some other channels seemed more aware and used a more balanced language.

On one channel, a “swami ji” thundered about the “aprakritik” (against nature) practices and that "these are against our culture". I can’t understand this logic of aprakritik. Every thing created by nature is prakritik (natural) and you don’t really need to have genetically modified human beings to become gay or lesbian, because that would be aprakritik. If being gay or a lesbian is “against nature” simply because it is not the majority behaviour, then even being a swami or a monk is also aprakritik, so why discriminate only against gays and lesbians?

The morning after, the English newspapers were full of colourful pictures. The staid TOI even had a kissing gay couple, though not on the cover page. Jansatta, the Hindi newspaper was more restrained, it only mentioned about the Pride in one line, as an afterthought to a statement by the Minister Moily, and didn't carry any pictures.

May be the flamboyant pictures present just one facet of the GLBTI movement, most of the gay or lesbian persons, don’t go around wearing feathers or dress up like “rave party on the beach” - their daily lives also move around home-office-home routines like other persons in their communities, still I am sure that any publicity is good publicity at this stage of the movement. Thousands of persons who find themselves isolated with fear, can see those pictures and read about others like them who had the courage and the possibility to come out and be themselves.

It was just the second Pride in Delhi. In the first Pride in 2008, they just had 500 persons, this time they were supposed to 2-3,000. So the movement is growing and getting stronger. The wide publicity the parade received this time, will bring even more persons into open, the next time!

You can see some more pictures from the Delhi Queer Pride 2009 at my Kalpana webpage. If you are in a picture and wish to receive it (free) in higher resolution, send me an email at sunil (at) kalpana.it - if the picture can create any difficulty for you, let me know and I will remove it.

A case for Bharatiyata

2009-06-22T08:16:00.002+02:00

After a long long time, I have the possibility to spend hours reading different Indian newspapers every morning and get and un update on how India is changing.

For the past twenty-five years, ever since I moved to Italy, my knowledge of happenings in India had gradually substituted by memories of past. Till about a decade ago, there was no way to receive any regular news about India, except when there were big disasters or wars or events related to Sonia Gandhi. Like the Western world, Italy also knew India thourgh the narrow lenses of yoga, spirituality, Mahatma Gandhi, Tagore, poverty, religious conflicts, etc.

Short visits for work or family holidays were cocconed in their own spheres, rarely looking out to see how the India I knew had metamorphed into new directions. My knowledge of the changes remained quite superficial, limited mostly to physical changes like the new shopping malls, metro and fly-overs.

Then about a decade ago, arrived Internet and with it the possibility of reconnecting with India. For me, the reconnection has been more related to music, culture, films, literature, friends and family. Probably I was never very keen on politics and cricket, and whatever, little interest I had, had withered away in those long years of being unconnected.

Now, for the last three weeks, I am at home alone with my mother. Apart from an occasional visit of a friend or a relative, most of my time is passed reading newspapers and magazines, and watching TV. So I have plenty of time to meet the changed India through these mediums and reflect about it.

The impact of the recent election results is one area where I have been trying to understand more about the changing India. And, I have to confess that I am a little confused.

Like, I am confused about the leftist parties. The wiping out of the smaller regional parties from the national parliament and the loss of the left parties in West Bengal, their apparent inability to reflect systematically about their defeat, etc. occupies some space in newspapers everyday. Over the past few days, the development related to Maoists in Lalgarh have been occupying front pages, increasing that confusion.

In my area of work linked with voluntary organisations, development and health, I have frequent opportunities of meeting a lot of persons who hold sympathies towards leftist or socialist philosophies. In all those discussions, I have heard regularly about the possibility of the leftist ideals of an egualitarian, sustainable world that opposes the imperialist forces of liberalization, globalisation and privatization to avoid exploitation of the poor and the marginalised. They lament that with the congess rule, without the presence of saner left forces, thse forces of liberalisation and privatization would get momentum to the detriment of the poor and the margainlised.

Yet, I have yet to read anything that properly articulates, what went wrong with West Bengal? The left-parties had the opportunity to put into practice all the wonderful egalitarian and developmental policies for the past 32 years, then how come tribals and marginalised groups of persons in places like Lalgarh continue to live lives of poverty, lack of infra-structures and lack of justice, as they do in Orissa or Chattisgarh?

Like the better known on-off relationship between BJP and RSS, is there also a gap between all these people who know all about sustainable development and justice, and their leftist parties?

The squabbles in the BJP about power and control positions are also baffling, but are perhaps more predictable. Like all those wars fought by Bush in the names of justice and liberation, even the “party with a difference” is actually made of fallible human beings that are just looking for another clever slogan for their public image. Their insistence on continuing with hindutva, seems more like hiding behind the already-known because of an inability to come up with a vision for the future.

In fact looking at the visions, ideas and strategies of the different political parties, I see a similar lack of ability to look at the wider reality and a continuing narrow focus of debate on liberalisation, privatization issues, either for them or against them. Yet issues and areas that require a new vision are so many!

Isn’t it necessary to see why did the leftist vision of anti-liberalisation, anti-privatization lead to poor and marginalised being still poor and marginalised? If the rabid stupidness of hindutva, that sounds very much like the reborn evangelists or talibans, does not work, what else can be there that does not close itself in women in jeans-pubs kinds of medieval debates? If reservations have had such a limited impact on the lives of millions of dalits, can we look for newer ways of decreasing those disparities? Our environment, our rivers, our forests, our biodiversity, how can we safeguard them and yet without renouncing to our share of material and economic progress?

I have never been impressed by these “our gods and our culture are in danger and we need to protect them” kind of ideas that are behind concepts of hindutva or muslim or christian revivals. On the other hand, I feel that Bharat has long and glorious religious traditions of acceptance, sharing and tolerance that the world does not have, also because probably no oner country in the world has such a long tradition of living with multi-cultural, multi-religious, multi-lingual societies.

The kind of fearless debates that Hinduism could have about its gods, about its philosophies and about its spirituality, the way Islam could develop in directions of sufism and ganga-jamuni culture, the kind of different strains of religious doctrines of equality, peace and harmany such as philosophies of Mahavir, Buddha and Nanak, that could develop in India, how can we safeguard all those?

Can’t we think of Bhartiyata, the Indian way of looking at issues that does keep in mind our culture and our traditions, but looks fearlessly at the new and the future, including the ideas of progress that come from the more “developed” world, looking at them critically?

Where are such persons, such parties, such political manifestoes?

Tavleen Singh in her coloumn in Indian Express of 20 June, “Lessons from the Ayatollah”, had written, something similar:

“It (Iran) might wake them (BJP leaders) upto the reality that the party of Hindutva is dead, dead, dead until it severs its links with the RSS. It is this “cultrual” organisation that brought into politics all those sadhus and sadhvis whose only contribution to Indian politics was venom and bigotry. Whenever religious people enter the political arena, they have to find an enemy and, in my humble opinion, it was this very bad habbit that became the primary reason for the BJP’s defeat.
The more the BJP’s leaders vented their venom against Muslims, the better they made the “pseudo-secular” Congress look….
There is great deal about ancient, Hindu India that we should try and understand and preserve. It saddens me everytime I go to a Southeast Asian country and see the immense influence of Indian civilization that continues to exist there and that is almost totally lost here. We need to understand why it has been lost here if we are not to end up as a country whose only culture comes from Bollywood.”

Perhaps a new party or a new leader would look at the concept of Bhartiyata and articulate it in a way that makes all forward looking Indians, of different classes, castes and religions to feel that they have a stake in India’s future! I hope.

Obama's speech and Islam in India

2009-06-11T13:38:00.002+02:00

I liked Obama's speech to the Muslim world from Cairo. I can't understand why so many Indian commentators are only concerned about "he did not mention India though ...". I think that Obama was very clearly saying that he was talking about "countries with muslim majority" in the Arab world, since the issues related to thse countries are very different from those regarding a country like India.

I can understand Tavleen Singh's point in Indian Express that Obama's dialogue is one-sided and similar dialogue from Islam's side is needed. She writes:

"The Jihad did not appear one morning out of clear blue sky. It happened because of a system of education in most Islamic countries that perpetuates the idea that Islam is the best thing that happened to mankind and that pluralism is wrong in Allah's eyes. As for us happy idol-worshipping types, we are doomed to damnation. This idea is in direct conflict with the Indian idea of Sarvadharma sambhaava. But it is more than just religion that is the problem. ... President Obama seems not to know that there are more Muslims in the Indian sub-continent than any where and that we lived in relative harmaony till Saudi money started to fund Wahabi Islam."

While Tavleen Singh is known for her position on Islam, I have been a little surprised by relatively open criticism of traditional islamists in the mainstream Indian media that used to avoid any mention of these subjects.

Like the report in The Week (June 7, 2009 issue) called "Sheikhen Shibboleths - are Indian muslims getting arabised?" In an interview in this article, Dr Ghoshal from Jamia Milia university says

"The transformation of Pakistan under Zia-Ul-Haq and the Islamization of the society had an effect on Indian Muslims, creating an assertiveness on their part, which produced Hindu extremism, and in turn produced a sense of insecurity among Indian Muslims."

I am not so sure if I entirely agree with Ghoshal here. It is convenient to show Hindu extremism "a result" of Muslim assertiveness. I think that Hindu extremism, like all other extremisms, has much more complex roots.

In May 2009 issue of the Hindi magazine Hans, there are two interesting articles about Muslim identity and issues todays. In her article, Sanvidhan aur Kabeela(Constitution and Clan), Sheeba Aslam Fehmi feels that while Indian constitution gives equal rights to Muslim women, these are not really accessible to them and wonders if this is because Muslim women in India got these rights through default at the time of independence without really fighting for them.

In the same magazine, Rajendra Yadav, one of the leading veteran Hindi writers, raises up other issues about Muslim identity in India, in a surprisingly direct way, and asks why every thing related to Islam must look for answers from Kuran?

"What kind of rule is that we can't raise any questions about Kuran or about prophet Mohammed .. why they are above all questions? Tell me what kind of eternal truths are there that are beyond questions? Can there be rules given fourteen hundred years ago that are unchangeable truths even in todays scientific and rational era, that can not be questioned? ... Can't you be free of Kuran, Shariyat and Hadis? If you will not be free then how will this production of Talibans will stop, who kill a girl only because she did not want to leave her studies. .... I was very surprised when you said that many Muslim women wear Hijab or Burqa out of their free will without pressure or order from others. Don't you really accept that every religion conditions the women in a way? What ever they do out of "free will" is a result of unnamed orders from deep inside. A bird freed of its cage, comes back to the cage out of its "free will". In "Guest" the story by Camus, the prisoner who had run away from the prison, doesn't he come back to the prison by himself? Please don't call psychological conditioning as "free will".

In the June 2009 issue of Hans, Rajendra Yadav goes back to this subject and the responses he has received about his first article:

Against my editorial of May 2009, many Muslim friends have advised me that first I should seriouosly study Islam, only then my words will carry some weight. The same advise I get from Hindu religious leaders. Christians also say the same thing. ... For me "what I can see" of a religion is more important in deciding man's thinking and behaviour. Certainly Islam gives all the rights and equalities to women that are not available in any other religion. But around us and in far away places, the "religious torture" supported by Muslim women is in no way less than Hindu torture. Here I don't see Shariyat, I see only injustices that crush women's cries with cruelty.

History of Islam in India, the way it linked with other Indian religions, the way it created syncretic thoughts and traditions such as Sufi thoughts, is too precious and needs to be safeguarded by everyone. Also I feel that all the religions, including Islam, need progressive reforms in line with concepts of human rights, so an honest debate on different critical aspects is needed. This means that sacred texts must also be reviewed critically. I believe that future of India and the world depends upon it.

Prisoner of TV serials

2009-06-07T07:59:00.012+02:00

I am a prisoner these days, forced to watch hours of mind-numbing serials on the Indian TV. I had been always dismissive towards those who watched TV serials. Now, in spite of myself, I find myself drawn into the unimaginable complexities of the serial worlds, where in every episode before every break, a new question of life and death gravity comes out with clockwork regularity. Minor misunderstandings are somehow never cleared, till I feel an anxiety-wreck, and are stretched, till I am ready to scream.

Miracles, superstitions, ghosts, bhoot-praits and assorted characters from Purans and other ancient texts reign supreme in this Indian TV world. Most of the time, it is a world of fair-skinned upper middle class Hindu homes, where dark-skinned persons, lower castes, ethnic minorities do not or hardly exist. In that sense, the Indian TV world is similar to the Bollywood world. From their moral highground, 24x7 news channels of this world spew judgements about the racist Australians.

Among the serials that I like are Balika Vadhu and Jyoti. I had always liked Surekha Sikri, and she is formidable in BV. Among the serials, I watch mostly NDTV Imagine or Colours, since my mother's old TV seems to show them well. And I like some of the old fashioned programmes on Doordarshan, probably because they don't shout endlessly or they don't have breaks every ten minutes. A few days ago I saw an old interview of Manna Dey by Irfan and another woman journalist, that was really lovely. I also like their adaptations of books from different Indian languages.

It is a shame that Doordarshan doesn't have proper internet based online trasmissions for those like me who live outside India. Among all Indian TV channels, I would rather like to watch Doordarshan rather than all these commercial channels, with lot of gloss and stupidity. If Doordarshan can have a non-film based programmes channel, probably it will also be easier to deal with copyright issues and make transmission of all those documentary films and films by independent film makers that no one watches and that do not attract sponsors.

Some time ago, in the news they have written that people in Doordarshan are converting their old tapes into digital archives. I would love to watch those.

Climate change and dwindling arm-pit forests

2009-05-31T07:25:00.004+02:00

There was an article on the international year of astronomy. It had beautifully illustrated pictures of different shapes of galaxies that have been photographed with potent telescopes. The pictures show specks of lights joining together to make shapes like rings, caps, spirals, etc.

It is difficult for us to imagine the distances to stars in our own Milky Way galaxy. The idea of travelling with the speed of light for a thousand years to reach a star in our own galaxy is difficult enough to grasp. Try to think of millions of other such galaxies, each expanding out forever or getting sucked back in to black holes and the distances that separate them from us, then you can understand the limits of our own imagination and understanding.

Can there be beings that are thousand light years larger to us humans in size, who inhabit this universe and walk around, taking giant strides, and for them the galaxies are like flats in an apartment building, that they pass while going to the office? At the end, it is just a question of proportions!

Because our earth is so tiny in comparison, smaller than a small pinhead compared to this universe of galaxies, and on that tiny little pinhead of earth, to those giant beings we humans would be like sub-atomic particles. Who knows if they can see us in their microscopes? or may be they have not discovered us yet?

That started me thinking about the bacteria and viruses, those tiny sub-microscopic living things that we can’t see but we can sneeze them out to pass on swine and avian flu to our fellow humans or eat in millions mixed in our yogurt. Like for us the distances to all those galaxies are unimaginable, perhaps to the bacteria that live on our bodies, we human beings are like planets or galaxies?

Like a bacteria living on our foot thinks that the little toe where s/he lives is his/her country, our body the earth, the other persons in our house the solar system and doesn’t know if there is life at those far away stars that are the apartments we can see from our window. Who knows if they have passport checks for going to other toes? And the catastrophs like we taking shower or an oil massage or getting licked by dogs or our lovemaking, that occasionally destroys all the living bacterial dinosaurs and makes for "breaking news" of the bacterial news channels. "Another cyclone is going to hit toeland, residents are request to evacuate!"

For them the distance between my house and my office must be like thousands of light years away.

Actually our bodies are like complex ecological systems as mentioned in an article on The Week recently.

"What I found most surprising was the great diversity of bacteria living on the skin," said Julia Segre of the US National Human Genome Research Institute in Bethesda, Maryland, who led the research. According to the first big census of microbes, parts of the body such as the moist armpits were akin to tropical rainforests in terms of the type of ecosystem the bacteria inhabit, whilst other areas of skin were like dry deserts.

"The second most surprising finding was that the skin was like a desert with moist areas like streams such as the armpits, and isolated oases of life where there are rich reservoirs of deep diversity, such as the navel," said genetics specialist Segre, whose study is published in the journal Science.

The human bodies are ecosystems, believed home to trillions of bacteria, fungi and other microbes that naturally coexist in the skin, the digestive tract and other spots.

And for millions of those living beings, climate change means your new deodorant or the antibiotic pill you pop in. Try imagining yourself submerged and surrounded by a living complex ecological system and you will understand that all those antiseptics and disinfectant sprays, cloth washers, dishwashers that marketing guys want you to buy from all the TV screens and ads, are actually all ecological disasters, killing millions of yet undiscovered bacterial and virus species and probably promoting scourges like antibiotic resistance, killer viruses, new kinds of allergies, etc.

Perhaps we human beings are also one of those killer viruses that sprang out and colonized the whole earth because one unthinking giant being killed all the dinosaurs because a dust particle hit him?

So please, don’t shave your armpits. And don’t put deodorants or other lotions. I don’t mind the smell. I prefer a living world on my body-planet. Down with artifical "civilization" and back to nature.

Dr Binayak Sen gets bail!

2009-05-25T17:30:00.004+02:00

It has been a tough and despairing struggle. To know that Dr Binayak Sen was being left in jail in spite of his long work for oppressed and marginalised, in spite of there not being any kind of reasonable proof against his being a Maoist spy, had been a sad comment on the state of Indian democratic system and the state of its institutions that are supposed to protect the citizens.

In the last one year of the trial, the State authorities had not been able to present any conclusive proof, nothing to justify why it was using a draconian anti-terror law to silence and punish a person like him. If State could do something like this to an internationally known person like Dr Sen, you can only imagine the kind of things that can happen to those are poor and powerless.

Finally today the news that Supreme Court has accepted these arguments and ordered his bail. I feel a sense of anger and frustration, that it had to drag for so long and against all ideas of common sense and decency! Still at least it has happened.

Films at Bologna HRN Film Festival 2009

2009-04-05T18:07:00.006+02:00

This year I am president of the jury judging the short films at the festival, plus I must go to work during the day, so that leaves little time for doing much else. Still I am trying to catch as many films as I can. Here are some comments about the films I have seen this time:

I bring with me what I love (director Chai Vasarhelyi, USA 2008, 80 min.): I loved this film about the Senegalese song writer, composer and singer Youssou N’Dour. The film chronicles his search to express his sufi Muslim faith through his music and his encounter with the the more fundamentalist positions in the Muslim world that see music as against Islam and feels that as a pop singer, Youssou N’Dour doesn’t have the right to sing about Senegalese sufi saint and freedom fighter Bamba and Islam.

94% of the population in Senegal is Muslim but they follow a sufi version of the religion characterized by tolerance and openness. Senegalese women do not cover themselves with black veil.

The film shows Youssou N’Dour’s journey from his Griot (traditional storyteller-singers) family background, his early attempts to sing in Gambia, his slow success and international fame and finally in 2000, his desire to express his sufi spiritual feelings through music in collaboration with a group of Egyptian musicians, that culminates in a music album called “Egypt”.

While in Senegal, “Egypt” is rejected outright without anyone ready to listen to it as religious “leaders” have expressed against it, he takes it abroad in his music tour. In Ireland, as the Egyptian musicians refuse to play till alcohol is removed from the tables, Youssou N’Dour says with a smile, “For me it doesn’t make a difference that there was alcohol, I would have sang all the same.”

He tries to take his music to Touba, to the shrine of saint Bamba but rumours of his show having nude dancing girls, creates riots and he is forced to withdraw. Still Youssou N’Dour refuses to give up. As his album receives the Grammy award, finally he finds acceptance for his music in Senegal.

The film offers a rare glimpse into Youssou N’Dour the person and has added bonus of listening to his music from different famous albums that are considered as part of the music history.

Reel Bad Arabs (director Sut Jhally, USA 2006, 50 minutes): The film based on a book of the same name by Dr Jack Sheehan takes a systematic look at Hollywood movies since the silent film era in early twentieth century right to our days, to see how American and European cinema have used particular caricatures and stereotypes of Arabs, Muslims and Palestinians over the years. These stereotypes show Arabs as rich, stupid, vicious, cruel, unethical and unsocial starting from the Disney cartoons right down to serious and pulp cinema.

While similar stereotypes were used in the past about Jews and Blacks, these have been overcome over the previous decades while Arab stereotypes continue and have been enlarged to include the ruthless terrorist stereotype. Thus while Arab women were and are mostly shown as black burqa covered submissive kinds, a ruthless terrorist Arab women figure has been added to this repertoire.

The film ends with a hopeful note citing films like Syriana and new young film-makers who are looking at the middle-eastern world with more open eyes and less prejudices.

The film is interesting in terms of its message and the examples it shows from different films. At the same time, it feels a bit monotonous and boring after some time, since all the film is made of Dr Sheehan speaking about the subject, interspersed with movie clips. Having some voice overs, having other persons say something, getting reactions of persons linked with films, especially persons from Middle east, would have made it more alive. Sheehan is good in explaining but there is too much of him, which in the end detracts from the film’s message.

Russia 88 (director Pavel Bardin, Russia 2008, 104 minutes): The film is a fictionalised account of a Moscow based Russian extreme right skinhead gang called Russia 88. Film’s hero is Sasha (Blade for his gang members, played very well by Pyotr Fyodorov) leader of the gang and the film is seen through the eyes of a half Jew boy, Abraham (Mikhail Polyakov), who longs to be accepted as a true-blooded Russian by the group but is not hard and tough enough.

Abraham is shooting a video to explain the gang’s philosophy and ideas for putting them on Youtube. Slowly the gang members get used to having him around with his camera and thus become unself-conscious in front of the camera and explain why they feel and act the way they do. Gang has a woman, Marta (Marina Orel), Sasha’s girl friend.

The film has used authentic right wing clothes, songs, etc. to present their world, as the gang plans to throw out all emigrants from Moscow, as they participate in army-camps, to aim for a “Russia for Russians” as the foreigners are “hungry and angry, ready to take away their jobs”. The main target of their anger is market where most of the shops are by emigrants. There are conservative party persons who believe in similar philosophy and want to use the gang for their political aims, but Sasha believes that they can get a better deal and is not willing to sell his services cheaply.

Tragedy comes in the shape of Robert (Kazbek Kibizov), a Tajiki emigrant with whom Sasha’s sister Julia (Vera Strokova) is in love, leading to the death of Kliment (Archibald Archibaldovic), the ideologue of the gang. As Sasha grapples with revenge, the group scatters.

The film is an interesting view into the world of extremist right wing groups and is accompanied by good acting from the main actors. The only aspect that seemed weak to me was the depiction of mindless violence and hate usually surrounding such groups, so in the end, you don’t really feel afraid of Sasha and his gang members and you feel sympathy of his dilemma.

Film’s official website says that they are not fascists, but I feel that film has been made in a way that creates sympathy and understanding for the cause of right wing conservatives. Their concerns and fear seem understandable, while their victims, specially the emigrants, except for Robert, seem like shadowy figures, not real persons.

Waltz with Bashir (director Ari Folman, France-Germany-Israel 2008, 87 minutes): The Golden Globe award winning film does not need introduction. The film is about persons who had participated in a war twenty years ago and their nightmares. As layer after layer of memories is peeled away, the horror of the war time memory comes out.

In 1982, Israel had helped Christian militia leader Bashir Gemayel to become president of Lebanon. On his assassination, Israeli soldiers had arranged for angry Lebanese Christian militia men to kill civilians, including women and children, in the Palestinian refugee camps of Sabra and Shatilla near Beirut, in which about 3000 persons were killed.

The film is stunning in its visual imagery and merciless in showing the human cruelty. You can find more about the film at its official website.

On one hand, it made me rethink about the killings of Sikhs in Delhi after the assassination of Indian prime minister, Indira Gandhi. It also made me think of the reports in the press about the recent Israeli attack on Gaza strip, during which it seems that Israeli soldiers were given the “freedom” to shoot on all “targets”, including women, children doctors, sick persons, and destroy hospitals, houses, schools while newer chemical weapons were tested.

Jihad for Love (director Parvez Sharma, USA-UK-Germany-France-Australia 2007, 81 minutes): The film was presented at the gender-bender festival of Bologna last year but I had missed it at that time, so I was happy to have this opportunity to see it.

The film explores the conflicts and contradictions when you try to bring together the issue of homosexuality with that of Islam. By presenting the stories of Muslim men and women from countries like India, Egypt, South Africa, Turkey, Pakistan, Morocco, etc., the film looks at the different facets of the issues people face.

The South African story is about a gay Imam (Muhsen Hendricks), as he talks on radio to explain his situation and struggles to keep his role as Imam and his relationship with his two daughters. A learned Maulana answers his quest with cold logic, “The only answer is death, while there is some disagreement about the way the person can be killed.” His daughter half-jokingly says, “Papa, if they kill you by throwing stones, I hope you will die with the first stone and not suffer.”

A group of Iranian friends exiled in Turkey wait for the UN High Commission for Refugees to decide if they will get political refugee status, while they miss their homes, friends and families. The Egyptian young man Mazen exiled in France misses his mother too and breaks down as he talks about his rape in the Egyptian prison.

The young man Ahsan from North India also wants to find answers from a learned man of the religion, “What can I do, I was born in Muslim caste, I have to follow my faith”, he says. The answer he gets is to read holy Koran, it will take away all wrong thoughts from your mind. When he persists, he is asked to consult a psychologist and get treatment for his “sickness”.

The young women (Maha and Maryam) in Cairo, hold each others’ hand. One of them is filled with guilt. It is wrong to feel like this, it is against our religion, she sobs. The other one reads an Islamic text to her and tries to consol her, “See it says if there is no penetration, it is not a serious sin.”

The only happy couple in the film is in Turkey, where the two women (Ferda and Keymet) joke outside the mosque and kiss each other.

I was surprised by this continuous struggle of Muslim men and women of trying to find some way to reconcile their sexuality with their holy book, shown in this film. Are there Muslim gays and lesbians, especially young men and women growing up in the west, who don’t feel guilty because Koran forbids it and can live in peace with themselves?

I don't think that any religion in the world really accepts homosexuality. Still persons from different faiths, Hindus, Christians, Jews have raised their voices to speak about their human rights. Among the gay persons I have known, I had never met someone who was struggling so much with his/her own sense of religious guilt and shame in the way shown in the film. Probably some young Catholic gays face something similar.

Hindus have some mythological stories that talk of male gods taking a female form or the figure of Shiva seen as Ardhnarishwar (half man and half woman) that can be constructed as religious sanction for homosexuality. In any case, Hindus are not bound by any one single religious text. Christians are bound by Bible but at least in Europe, the idea of following something because "it is written in Bible" wouldn't be acceptable to most young persons. So to find young Muslims in this film feeling that way about their holy book surprised me a little.

To me it seems obvious that if our religion does not abide by the notions of human rights, we should fight to change them. Religious books were written centuries ago, how could they understand the issues of today and give answer for every thing?

The film made me reflect on on other issues as well, like how can Muslims change such laws that relate to homosexuality, to women’s education, to women’s dress codes, etc. if they can not question the views written in their holy book? I feel that Muslims themselves, especially those who are struggling with such issues can propose answers to these dilemmas, though they are going to have a long and tough path in front of them.

Parvez Sharma is a strange name, as it brings together a Muslim name with a Brahmin surname, and I am a little curious to know the story behind it. Perhaps he is related to the well known Hindi writer with a similar sounding name, Nasira Sharma?

In any case, it requires huge courage to make a film like this. About 50% of the persons in the film never show their faces, that makes you understand the risks in raising such uncomfortable questions. Parvez's blog shows how he is still being threatened by persons, who don’t share his views. Such persons have even started hate groups on Facebook. I hope there would many more who would start groups to support the issues he is raising.

Behind barbed wires

2009-04-04T06:15:00.003+02:00

Finally it had stopped raining, as I went for the second day of the short films in competition for the Human Rights Night film festival of Bologna. The projection started with a bit of delay as we waited for Manli Shojaeifard, the Iranian director of one of the films in programme.

If on the first day, for me the theme of the films had been crossing some kind of boundaries, yesterday I felt that stories had less hope, they were about persons imprisoned behind barbed wires. Barbed wires that were there in their own minds or were built by circumstances, but in all cases there was not much chance of getting out.

The first film was "...She was no one" (director Manli Shojaeifard, Iran, 2002, 13 minutes). It was about a saint's tomb that is supposed to cure persons with mental illnesses and where people tie mentally sick persons with a chain and a lock, presumably overnight. Manli herself explained that to avoid problems, she had visualized this film in a more symbloic form, using symbols such as green wishing-threads tied around the tomb, the rosary and the burning candles. There were no dialogues in the film.

I personally had difficulty in understanding this film and afterwards, asked Manlie some clarifications. The main event of the film was the rape of one mentally ill girl left there by her family, by the caretaker of the tomb. This was shown indirectly, when a woman living near by, finds the girl on the ground near the tomb, having convulsions and closeby she finds the rosary left by the man.

However, even after understanding the idea of the film, I had trouble in visualizing that man raping the girl, since actor playing the caretaker of the tomb seemed like a kindly elderly gnome with laughing blue eyes. Perhaps they could have taken a different actor for this role.

People tying mentally ill persons with chains and treating them like animals is probably common all over the rural world, where there are few psychiatrists and little understanding of mental illness. Both mental illness and epilepsy are surrounded by myths, superstitions, stigma and discrimination. It does happen in India and a mainstream film like "Tere Naam" (director Satish Kaushik, 2003 with Salman Khan and Bhumika Chawla) had shown it very graphically. However, I am digressing here.

The second film was Alfred (director Leonardo Guerra Seràgnoli, USA, 2008, 17 minutes) about nightmares of a man called Alfred. When he was a child or adolescent, he was involved in some war. Hit by a bullet, enemy soldiers had left him on the ground thinking that he was dead. Now he is haunted by some unseen demons, probably unable to come to terms with fragility of his life or the fear of dying.

The film has beautiful photography and actor playing Alfred (Daniel Bell) looks suitably angst-stricken, shaving off his head, toying with tablets, fighting with his pillow, contemplating the darkness in his soul. At the same time, I found the film like a glossy magazine, great looking but a little artificial and lacking in soul.

The third film was Hungry God (director Sukhada Gokhale-Bhonde, India-USA 2008, 8 minutes). It was about a young boy (Omkar Gaekwad), his face made up like Hindu god Shivji with toy snakes around his neck, going around asking for food, looking hungrily as people buy or eat food, continue to offer food to the statues but no one takes pity on him.

The film is visually very beautiful, lyrical and the music helps in that. The first shot of boy looking at his own split image in the broken mirror can be interpreted as a metafor in different ways.

Child actor (Omkar Gaekwad) playing the part has eloquent eyes and the film pulls at your emotions. Yet, the film does seem a film, little artificial, a make-believe world and not about real poverty and hunger, perhaps because it is too beautiful. The boy is too well made, clearly he had professionals doing his make up, complete with fresh flowers and eye liners and this takes away from the authenticity of the film.

There was a similar figure of the boy, dressed like a god in the riots scene of The Millionaire (David Boyle 2008). Perhaps it is films like The Millionaire that change the way we look at poverty and slums?

The last film of yesterday was "Vida Loca" (Crazy lives, Stefania Andreotti, Italy 2008) about gangs of adolescents in some countries of central America like Honduras. This film is more of a straight forward documentary with some wonderful night photography and haunting images of eyes with pupils dilating as the young gang members talk about the three dots of their crazy lives in the space between the thumb and the index finger, signifying death, drugs and jail.

The story of two gangs, Rio 18 and Mara, extending from streets of central America right up to Los Angels, about illegal emigrants, drugs trade, violence and revenge shocks because of the hopelessness of their young lives, where killing or getting killed is the only real option they have. Seen as vermin, to be crushed and violated, the brutality of the prisons, recruiting new members of the gangs in the prisons seen as the gang headquarters, show the effect of the repressive harsh ways of dealing with the issues. Social workers and rehabilitation centres show a faint glimmer of hope as some persons do manage to go out the narrow confines of the gang-thinking.

The film ends with the haunting laugh of one of the adolescent gang member, who had been talking about his lack of fear of death, that we was ready to kill and to be killed, as he asks, "Help me to change". His heart-breaking smile and the hopelessness of his situation is what remains when the film is over.

Among the four films seen yearday, I liked "Vida Loca" most.

Crossing borders

2009-04-03T05:12:00.007+02:00

There were five films in the short-films section of the Bolgona Human Rights Night film festival yesterday, and overall I liked all five of them. We still have another seven films to see so it is too early to speak of which of them is the best film, but already I can see how subjective it can be to decide about the best film or the best actor or actress, and in the end why some persons feel so strongly about the awards and film festivals.

The first film was Mofetas (Director Inés Enciso, Spain-Morocco 2008, 10 minutes). The word "Mofetas" means skunks, those furry animals that use bad odour as their defence, and is what the police in Tangiers calls the children trying to illegaly cross into Europe, hanging under the trucks.

The films heroes are two Moroccan mofetas (Mostafa Abdeslam and Mohamed Maltof), trying their luck once again, hiding under the belly of the truck, waiting for the crossing to Spain, while waiting, sharing their dreams. If the reality of their life is poor and dirty, their dreams are in technicolor complete with blondes and chocolates.

Newspapers in Europe regularly talk about emigrants trying to sneak in, hanging on to the trucks or boats, hiding in the freezer cells, some times dying, some times making it but then sent back. They are just numbers, illegals without faces or humanity. The film gives faces, names, dreams and humanity to them.

The second film was Viko (Director Larjsa Kondracki, Canada 2008, 17 minutes). It is the story of teenager Viko (Luke Treadaway) in ex-Jugoslavia, hoping to escape from poverty and be able to go to Berlin or London with his girl. His borther, hard and cussing, offers Viko to help in his illegal work. Viko does not know that he is getting into trafficking of Ukrainian girls for prostitution. Initially shocked and repulsed by the tragedy of girls they are violating, Viko finally reacts with violence himself, becoming hard and cussing like his brother.

The film is about a young boy reaching adulthood, losing his innocence and turning into a violent exploiter for his own survival. I think that we all want our villains to be very different from us, without humanity, so that we can hate them and feel relieved that we are not like them. The film shows that violent men who exploit poverty of young women to push them into prostitution were persons like others, circumstances and their work turn them into monsters.

There is a part of the film that is really shocking with rape and violence, I wanted to close my eyes and close my ears. It is not for the faint hearted or for children.

It is a film that makes you reflect about the scantily clad girls you can see standing by the side of the road, smiling provocatively, hoping to coax you to a room and think about how they got there and the kind of racket that exists all around to make that to happen.

The third film was Una Vida Mejor (director Luis Fernandez Reneo, Spain, 2008, 13 minutes) about three children crossing over from Mexico to America through the Arizona desert. The children get separated from their handler and the group during an attack by bandits, then alone without water they try to cross the desert. One of them doesn't make it.

Some parts of the film are very well done like the last part where the mother receives the letter from her children. In other parts, I found it is less real and more artificial, in the sense everyone and everything is too nice and beautiful. For me it lacked grit of a documentary and was more of a film.

The fourth film was About The Shoes (By Rozalié Kohutovà, Cech republic, 2007, 13 minutes) about a Rom (gypsy) slum near Slovakia. The film in black and white is told by a young woman-volunteer-teacher who wants to bring the gypsy children to school, and about the girl without shoes, who can not come to the school.

The poverty and the squallor of the gypsy campment is caught well. However, the film seems to be a outsiders look at gypsy world, the otherness of the gypsies is accentuated. It lacks their point of view.

The choice of stark images in black and white also help to create views that reminded me of documentaries about concentration camps under Nazis, that again seemed to accentuate their otherness, a feeling that it is not about us normal persons, it is about them, and they are different from us. I am not sure if director did want to convey this.

The fifth and the last film yesterday was Portuale (director Gregor Ferretti, Italy 2008, 4 minutes) about Lucio, a young boy who had died during his first day of work at the port in Ravenna. The film, a musical video, sung by Gregor (Lucio is dead, crushed like a cat), has beautiful visuals and shows the different stages of Lucio growing up, his friends, his dreams and then his body at the port, covered by a sheet.

Use of beautiful colours, nice locales and the contrasting words are pleasant even if you may have seen similar songs already on Music TV, it doesn't add anything to the understanding about what happened and why. Lack of security at work places, the theme of the film, remains more of an accident.

Overall the first day of short films was satisfying and much better than what I had expected. Viko was especially shocking and Mofetas made me reflect more, but each film gave me something to remember, and something to reflect upon. I think that is the purpose of documentary films, to make you relfect and to understand.

As I had walked in the theater, I saw bits of a press conference of a new Italian film coming out today, Amici del Bar Margherita, shot in Bologna. There were some of the Italian stars like Pierpaolo Zizzi and the popular Italian singer, Lucio Dalla. (In the picture below with director Pupi Avati and other actors).

I am looking forward to the second round of short films today that is going to have films from Italy, USA, Iran and India. I am also looking forward to tomorrow to watching Parvez Sharma's A Jihad for Love and Ari Folman's Waltz with Bashir.

Olives and Cypresses

2009-03-23T06:29:00.003+01:00

A few days ago we were watching the new Bond film, Quantum of Solace. I didn’t like the film, even if the leading lady did look a little bit like Rani Mukherjee. I don’t like Denis Craig. His perpetually constipated expression somehow makes me think of ducks. But the initial car race and fight in the A1 highway between Bologna and Florence and then in the city of Siena, reminded me that we had never been to Siena.

Why don’t we go to Siena on this weekend, I proposed. On the map it didn’t look very far. If we take highway, probably we will be there in less than two hours, I said. Often, my wife is not very receptive to such proposals. She feels that they are too tiring. But this time, she didn’t refuse outright, she only frowned and said, we shall see. So I knew, the trip was on.

The names of certain cities are linked with colours. Like Jaipur is linked with pink. For me Siena is linked with “Burnt Siena”. Why did they call that colour “burnt Siena”, that particular shade of brown? Perhaps because of the colour of earth in around this city? or because of the colour of buildings there? I don't know.

Yesterday, sunday morning, we started from home around 9.30 AM. My wife had changed from “we shall see” to “what is the hurry? why don’t we take the Poretta-Pistoia road and see the small cities on the way?” So we decided, no highway! We shall take the normal road and go slowly, taking time to look around.

We passed through the quaint town of Sasso Marconi, where Mr. Marconi had done his experiments with wireless telegraph more than one century ago. Then we went through Marzabotto that has a wonderful Ethruscan necropolis that we had visited last year. Up and down the road went, passing through Poretta Terme, in through deep mountain passes with snow capped mountains, towards Pistoia in the Tuscany region.

Spring had already arrived in Tuscany with new diamond green grass that looked soft as silk. Scattered with gnarled olive trees and tall conical cypresses, Tuscany landscape has a distinctive look. On the road towards Pistoia, we stopped at a bar in Signorino (literally “unmarried man”), where a huge crowd of bikers was having picnic. Very appropriate, we thought. They all did look unmarried!

On the way from Pistoia to Empoli, we saw the indications for Vinci and decided on an impulse that it would be nice to see the birthplace of one of the most accompamplished sculture-painter-scientist of all times, Leonardo da Vinci. The small town of Vinci is on the top of a hill surrounded by the gentle landscape of Tuscany, dotted with more olives and cypresses. Right in the middle of the medieval town centre, a Leonardo square has been created with a wooden sculpture showing one of the well known figures made by him.

I liked the Guidi square more where a contemporary Italian artist Mimmo Paladino has sculpted the whole square with shapes and images of Leonardo (picture).

By the time we finished going around Vinci, it was already one of clock. We ate our sandwiches that we had brought from home and then decided to proceed towards Anchiano village about three kilometers away from Vinci, to look at the house where Leonardo da Vinci was born. It was difficult to immagine that a child born in such a humble faraway village would become so famous that his name will be known all over the world (in the picture, Leonardo's house).

By the time we reached Siena, perched on the top of a hill, we were a little tired. It was already three of clock. Siena seemed to be full of tourists but we were lucky that we found a parking place almost immediately. The narrow winding streets, medieval houses, renaissance buildings, it was very beautiful. A little tired from going up and down the narrow streets, we ate an icecream and listened to a gifted street violinist.

I had expected to see a small medieval town in the city centre, but what surprised me was the size of the old city. It is huge. I wanted to see the Piazza del Campo, the famous square where the annual Palio horse race takes place. As we walked on and on, there was no sign of this square but arrows on the streets indicated that it was further ahead. Finally when we did come to it, it was one of those “A-ha” moments that you never forget in your life.

Coming down from narrow winding, dark medieval streets on the hills, the square is like a huge natural bowl, open space between the hills and filled with sunlight, sloping down towards the middle and surrouned by more medieval and renaissance buildings that seem handpainted canvass against the blue sky. There is a beautiful fountain in one corner of the square.

Pictures can’t capture its immensity nor the sense the wonder that fills you when you see Piazza del Campo. I had seen it so many times in pictures and films, and yet I had never realized how wonderful it is in reality. It is one of the most beautiful places I have ever seen.

We are not going to spend too much time here, I told my wife. This city deserves to be seen properly and not in a hurry by tired persons! We will come back here, to spend a whole day or may be a weekend, we agreed, as we walked towards the Duomo (cathedral).

Even the Duomo is very good in Italian gothic style that reminds me of rich wedding cakes, though if you have already seen the cathedrals in Florence and Orvieto, you know what to expect.

We didn’t go inside Duomo, instead we walked back towards the parking to get our car. It was almost five o’clock. The journey back home on the highway was quick, it did take less than two hours. And we are sure, we will back in Siena to explore it better.

If you are planning a visit to Italy, do not miss Siena!

Back in Bangkok

2009-03-21T10:10:00.003+01:00

In less than 12 months, I was back in Bangkok for the third time. Probably no other place in the world can beat Bangkok in terms of cost-benefit ratios and that can explain why so many organisations decide to hold international meetings there even if it is not easy to find persons who speak English.

I think that the factors that contribute to Bangkok being a great place for international meetings include the following - good international flight connections, easy to find cheaper flights, good infrastructures, really polite and friendly population, good food and relatively cheap hotel accomodation.

We held the meeting in a four star place called Prince Palace, right to the Bo Bae wholesale clothes market & fruit-vegetable market in a crowded and busy area of Bangkok that is close to the tourist attractions as well. The cost of double rooms including a wonderfully huge breakfast was just 36 Euros per night, that is only 1250 Rs per person per day, an amount impossible to think of even in India, forget Europe. In Italy you can't find a room for that amount even in the bare-essential places run by the nuns. The place is accessible to persons with disabilities and staff was really helpful, always ready to go an extra mile. I don't remember organising such a hassle free international meeting ever before. I mean that in terms of logistics and general issues, since no place in the world can save you from usual problems related to speakers or particiapnts that don't turn up or decide to behave like prima donnas.

***

This time there was no time for going around the tourist places but still I managed to squeeze in a morning trip to the Ayutthaya, the old capital of Thailand till about 150 years ago. If you like old ruins of Buddhist temples, visit Ayutthaya, it has wonderful atmosphere and the old temples declared as world heritage by UNESCO are unforgettable. I rented a bicycle in Ayutthaya and had a great time cycling around the city.

This trip had a small hitch. At the end of the morning, while walking back to the market to catch the minibus back to Bangkok, I decided to stop at a nice modern looking barber shop. My hair were really long and so I thought that I can get a small trimming. However, my gestures to explain what I wanted were not understood by the young lady in the shop, who smiled at me and before I could understand what was happening, I had a lawn-mower on my head. By the time I could shout and stop her, I already had an almost bald patch on the side my head.

Realising her mistake, the lady suggested that she could make close cut hair on the sides and keep them long in the centre in the horse-mane style popular among certain young persons, who like their hair in bright colours. At the end, I came back almost bald to Bangkok and all the other meeting participants were very surprised by my changed appearance.

So if you want a haircut in Bangkok, remember to explain it really well! Here are some pictures from this trip to Ayutthaya.

Sonagachi prostitute and the yellow turbaned Sarpanch

2009-03-20T07:05:00.003+01:00

Have you seen the posts on India Yatra series on the Hindustan Times webpage? I think they are wonderful in getting a feel of India as it readies for the 2009 elections.

The yellow turbaned Sarpanch in the Maharashtra village has a masters degree and practices participatory democracy and development, bringing prosperty to the village and to them the national elections are not so important, the Gram Sabha is much more so.

Durbar, the NGO set up by a group of prostitutes from Sonagachi in Kolkatta is the only organisation providing support to the tribals in an area that saw starvation deaths. To those tribals, the politicians mean nothing, they only see hope in Durbar.

In UP the internet surfing farmer is a millionaire and is providing new agricutlure knowledge to many other farmers. To them the new eight lane highway that is coming up next to their village is their road to prosperity and rather than look at the Ram mandir issue in Ayodhya, they would rather look westwards to Punjab, Haryana and Maharasthra for better agriculture.

In Andhra Pradesh, the world-class road is just a confirmation of the State priority in fighting the Naxalites and it fuels the desire for the separate Telangana state. Prosperity will come with their own state, they are convinced. People are calculating which politicians are likely to support them to realise their Telangana dream.

In Bihar the bicycles for the high school girls may be another round of chess moves between Nitish Kumar, Ram Vilas Paswan and Lalu Prasad, but girls are feeling more confident and see a hope for their future.

These are some of the examples of the stories under India Yatra.

HT has 30 correspondents travelling all over India and collecting stories from places that usually are forgotten in newspapers and TV news. It gives me an opportunity to go beyond the usual media representations of India, to a more varied mosaic of the country. Great stuff and interesting as well.

Befana - Female Santa Claus of Italian Tradition

2009-01-06T21:16:00.002+01:00

Today Christmas means Santa Claus bringing the gifts for children but it wasn't always like this. Traditionally the gifts were brought by Befana, an old ugly lady with a crooked big nose, who came flying on her broom and brought socks of gifts for children. Befana day is celebrated on 6 January of each year, it is a national holiday in Italy and marks the end of Christmas festivities.

It is thought that the Befana gift tradition also represents the gifts brought by three wise men of orient to infant Jesus.

During Christmas, many Italian homes set up their Christmas floats with the holy family and other representations of popular life. For Befana day, on 6 January Bologna holds a live float (Presepe vivente) of Christmas with people dressed in medieval clothes, who enact the birth of Jesus.

Here are some pictures from todays Presepe Vivente of Bologna