Heavenly Alcove

A rumble distant and unseen,
Or hungry pangs unforeseen.
Or is it an ego and display of might?
A baritone roars trying to invoke fright!

Or is it just unflinching love?
Grunting in the shelter of heavenly alcove.
Endless heed for what lies underneath,
Of the infinite stretches that lay beneath!

Evoking an aura appeasing even the bleak,
Levitating soul to joys simple and unique.
Tumbles and pirouettes on the stretches of love,
Rain does evoke bliss and ecstasy that life may disallow!

Did YOU?

Did YOU marvel when you made me?
Did in seven days second thoughts cross in THEE?

Conjure did YOU the blessed flaring in red?
Or a Forbidden land where freedom has not bred?

Did YOU see confluence of faith in the disorder?
Did YOU perceive religion form from the heavenly fodder?

Did YOU think of struggle in creatures of the stripe?
Or soil tarnished with blood and sufferings with no gripe?

Did YOU foresee hunger making a few prosperous?
Or power that breeds greed and that fosters melancholy copious?

I wonder what would have been had YOU seen?
I wonder would I have been?

Rendering a Pantomime...

Mockery by a confluence of faith,
A star shone changing the course of fate.

Some were promised a place chirping in harmony,
Some saw in it strife culminating blasphemy.

When the seas were split summoning serenity beyond,
Missiles waylay a promise, crafting miseries profound.

Blood drips suffocating the parched soil, echoing a lost shrine,
Silence is deafening in the cacophony, heavens rendering a pantomime.

Age of Aquarius swore end of discord,
Melancholy strains to tears hoping a magical accord.

Smile beguiles the angst beneath

Solemn say some, sacrosanct for others – blessed by the forefathers not far from the banks of River of Jordan,
Hunger pangs many, poverty copious and plenty – blessings, like a distant dream, seek an earnest pardon.
Blood besmirches lands parched, missiles resound where Holy Hymns once reverberated,
Smile beguiles the angst beneath – confluence of Holy Forces; ere this melancholy goes unabated.

Seeking Peace!

Spell of rhapsody

Puffed and steamed, idyllic ecstasy wafts from this epitome of purity,
Rice and White Lentils (Urad Dal) reek a concoction sanguine and effusing harmony.
Daubed with the supernatural mélange of ‘gunpowder’ and (til/sesame) oil stirring merry,
Taste buds pirouette and rollick under a whirling spell of rhapsody.

For the uninitiated – I am blabbering about the innocent culinary delight called – Idli!!

Land of Enchantment!

Official trip predestined that the five days in Vietnam were tightly wrenched and overly exhausting. Anyways I tried to assimilate as much as possible from this mystical land of Enchantment.

The journey began 2nd March 2008 10 AM from Singapore on a flight destined towards Ha Noi – the capital of Vietnam with the three of us – me, Aditi(Sleeping and Snoring Piglet) and Arvind on board. The Hotel Intercontinental at Ha Noi was the next stop, nestled in the heart of the city at the banks of West Lake – a legend claims it be formed owing to trampling by a golden buffalo. The sunset at the West Lake was equally mystical.














An idyllic charm enamors your stay in Ha Noi. Onset of spring meant Ha Noi was shrouded in a weather mildly titillating and pleasurably soothing. Dotted with beautiful water bodies and small two storey colourful buildings – this place wafts innocence so pristine that you wonder if you could encase the same, wrap it tightly away from vulgar stares and carry a part of this unadulterated air.

Work took away most of the two days planned at Ha Noi but still I managed to assimilate some of this untouched air. 4th March 2008 – late evening and Ho Chi Minh City or otherwise formerly known as Saigon - beckoned. The innocence had, alas, evaporated and fallen prey to commercialization.

However, HCMC imprinted on me a sense of mélange – of an era gone by – of history, survival and of an era of change and globalization. Every nook that you glance by you shall find artists having opened shops – drawing melodies on canvases or carving wonders on wood. Perhaps the wars have cultured artists in this nation which welcomes you with a broad smile. Yes, everywhere you look – you shall be greeted with a smile, reminding you that world is a beautiful place.

Coming back to HCMC – weather though not as soothing as Ha Noi – French history of the region is etched in the architecture – especially in the area neighbouring the serpentine Saigon River.












Another factor that strikes you is that this Land of Enchantment is also a Two-Wheeler Country, where driving or riding or even walking on roads requires perhaps a special certification which is in ingrained in every Vietnamese. HCMC is also dotted variedly with cafés catering to the thirsty travelers camping here.

While I enshrine the role of a raconteur – I must touch upon a topic or experience that binds most humans and is in my opinion the only solution to peace on this planet – Food. If you are a strict disciplinarian with respect to the food you eat and refuse to eat anything non-Indian – good news beckons with Tandoor - with branches both in HCMC and Ha Noi. The other saviour for the endangered vegetarians like me was Al Fresco’s with its mouth-watering Italian and Mexican cuisines – weight watchers – leave your watches behind. Finally – such a thing as Vegetarian Vietnamese food exists (thanks largely to the Buddhist population) – even to the surprise of localites. One of the localites(client of ours) said ‘ So all you eat is vegetables?’

Anyways my tongue rolled in ecstasy as I savored joys of culinary delights including – jackfruit rice, rice pan-cakes, fried bean curd ,morning glory soup and yes lotus seed soup. The food amazingly oil free and healthy and yet seeped in joys of life.

On that note – a visit to Vietnam without a whiff of Vietnamese Coffee means having left the place and having not etched Vietnam in your heart. Not for the faint hearted though – the coffee is overly dark and thick and enlivens your senses out of slumber – for perhaps a week. A hint of milk recommended for those whose tongue is likely to burst in to hysteria at such esoteric tastes.

One other factor that surprised me - despite being classified as an economically developing country - was the distinct lack of shanties/slums. Also lacking were the footpath dwellers. May be I am wrong or may be I was presented a parochial view of Vietnam or perhaps socialism has it positives.

7th March 2008 and Singapore beckoned once again. But the Land of Enchantment stamped such unfathomable impressions that my soul yearns to be enmeshed in the pleasures of a sun-rise by the Saigon River or in the idyllic saunter through the streets of Ha Noi. The lady in this picture was too shy to pose for my camera – I shall be back – to capture that million dollar smile.

Will this trend continue?

Oil reaches historical peaks, so does gold! Now when my pet subject is so hotly contested - it leads me in to doing some digging.

I calculated the historical ratios of price of gold per oz vis-a-vis oil per barrel in dollars. Monthly data from Jan 1985 to Feb 2008. And the results -













Certainly the average value has hovered around 15-16 and todays value at 9 -10 makes gold look cheap.

Why this particular ratio?

1. Gold has for long been an alternate form of investment to counter the inflation injected in to the economy. The prime source/driver being oil.

2. Figures dating back from 1949 suggest a 15-16 average.

But does this average hold true as of today?

1. Gold is a prime and a lucrative investment. But surely we have far more avenues to invest today.

2. Will economies/investors go back to buying more gold as a hedge against inflation considering the continued devaluation of the dollar?

3. Consider this alternate school of thought'Gold being overvalued'. Surely supply surplus will slowly kick in and gold value will moderate.But gold unlike other commodities - is a metal, there is only so much that Mother Earth can produce.


Views?

Burning Bright!

Beauty conjures itself in a reddish-orange hue smeared with vertical dark stripes – nature is an artist with the right colours. Grace embodies itself through those proud white whiskers and the gait that evokes awe. A creature which would not want to relent!

The national animal of six countries namely India, Bangladesh, Nepal, Malaysia, N Korea and S Korea , it also has been adopted in various symbols, mascots and coat of arms. Revered and elevated to the status of deities in many cultures. One of the signs of the Chinese zodiac as well. Exhibited widely in literature and adopted in various cartoon depictions including Calvin and Hobbes - serving to the esoteric and the plebian cravings.

William Blake in his works ‘Songs of Innocence’ and ‘Songs of Experience’ juxtaposed child’s world versus an adult world, lamb versus a tiger(tyger) -

Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

Yet – humans can be diabolical most of the time. Tiger’s bones heal our bones, tiger’s teeth relieve us of tooth aches and yes tiger’s skin provides us warmth and decorate our walls.

Latest survey indicates 1400 tigers surviving in India today. Of the nine known tiger species – three are extinct (Javan, Bali and the Caspian). Bengal tiger which accounts for more than half of world’s tiger population is dwindling at an alarming pace. Project Tiger fizzled out with the Sariska fiasco. The revered creature is struggling to keep pace in this ruthless world.

The economy is booming at a torrid pace for the betterment of its citizens - for a hearty and healthy life. Surely a sanguine world would accommodate this elegant beast. Alas! Where? And add to it - the forest officials in liaison with poachers – thereby ensuring comforts which a government job may not satiate.

Conservation does not mean armed guards. Tigers need space, they need water, and like us they need a home. Conservation should be imbued in every human. Conservation needs education, it also needs a leader with a vision (Project Tiger results show!). It’s the crimson beauty - today - in fear of losing its stripes – the malice can surely spread to other charms of the wild.

Valmik Thapar had once said - 'Nothing short of a miracle can save tigers in the wild in this country. There are many well-intentioned people, but they don't know the needs of the tiger. We have half the world's tiger population. But on the horizon, politically, I see a zero chance of its survival'.

Should I be?

O petite plant what shall you be?
O petite plant what shall you be?

Will you be an Oak – steadfast and stout?
Will you be an Acacia – branches o’er cuckoos shout?

Will you be a Flame tree – hue red and bright?
Will you be a Cedar – soaring and a pretty sight?

O petite plant, do tell me.

When I am old and green, will it matter thee?
When I am old and stout, will it matter thee?

Steadfast and stout – for flames and warmth of your family,
Nesting and dense – choking and in disharmony.

Colours I shall proclaim – for you to make a pretty frame,
Kissing the clouds – to be cut and rendered lame.

What shall I be, will it matter thee?
For I wonder, Should I be?

The movie that beat Lagaan...

Chinese New Year meant time on hand to catch up on some movies. Opportunity presented itself to revisit a movie that had left an indelible imprint on my senses.

The movie that beat Lagaan at the Oscars and was released way back in 2001 – yes I am talking about No Man’s Land. Written and Directed by Danis Tanovic – this movie on a very grave subject of the Bosnia-Serbia conflict renders itself in to a black comedy.

The movie meteors in with a bang with the dialogue which runs as –

‘Do you know the difference between a pessimist and an optimist?
‘A pessimist thinks things can't be worse. An optimist knows they can’.

This sets up the fable perfectly. In a strife-laden terrain and in the midst of smog emanating from the tanks and guns from either side – there lay a land which both parties dreaded to step on. A group of Bosniak relief workers lose their way and as the shroud of the night fog lifts – fall victim to the thundering Serbs.

The storyline meanders to find two Bosniak soldiers (one of them supine –with a triggered off mine under him which would explode if he moved) with a Bosnian Serb Soldier stuck in the same trench. What allures me to the movie is the way the movie encapsulates subtle plebian interactions under adversity. One scene that stands out is how the two soldiers try to prove a point on ‘Who started the war?’ by brandishing guns at each other!

With the two parties – Bosnia and Serbia – keeping away from the troubled trench – UNPROFOR comes in to play with media intervention as an added spice. The movie unfurls the politics at the helm and makes a mockery of ‘Play Neutral’ motto adopted.

These are just snippets in to what truly was a master class screenplay. The movie attempts to unravel, mock and question – inane human characteristics, politics overwhelming adversity and the war itself.

A must see!! Ah yes – you will need sub-titles.

Happy Birthday Rat! :)

Ousting Progress

‘Maharashtra is for Maharashtrians’ – 1970’s Balasaheb Thackeray Campaign

‘When in Maharashtra, act like Maharashtrians’ – 2008 Maharashtra Navnirman Sena(Raj Thackeray)

Like Uncle Like Nephew?

It all started in somewhere in 1967 with fiery speeches - that moved masses(or did it discombobulate), ‘son of soil’ admonishments and sparks of violence against the South Indians – who were slowly creeping in to middle class strata snatching away jobs from the ‘sons of the soil’.

Fast forward history pages and you shall find – Anti region turn to anti-religion and anti-Pakistan(including digging up Cricket pitches and the Bombay riots),Anti-actors and Anti-Bollywood (Dilip Kumar for the uncle and Big B for the nephew) and finally giving way to Anti-North Indian which now probably has culminated in to Anti Samajwadi Party!

All this – ofcourse- can be disguised as Nirman. Nirman which pirouettes itself around the hinge called Politics – of deception, mockery, clannish penchant and insatiable desire for power.

The root of unemployment of the Marathi youths shall not be extirpated by ousting the clans who in a larger picture form one face of India. Nirman has to assume a larger and a social meaning. Fiery speeches which are directed towards discombobulative effect shall need to assume a progressive nature towards shaping tomorrow’s Maharashtrians. There are lessons to be learnt from the neighboring state of Gujarat (not from the politics or the politicians there but from the scale of development it has assumed). Castles cannot be built by blistering speeches – neither can Mumbai turn in to a Shanghai by ousting progress.

A close friend of mine reiterated something Charles Schultz had penned for Snoopy –

‘Yesterday I was a dog. Today I'm a dog. Tomorrow I'll probably still be a dog. Sigh! There's so little hope for advancement.’

Maze of ecstasy

Concoction mildly bitter benignly saccharine and cherubic overtly,
Time gazes in awe as Coffee and Chicory sieve in propinquity.
Davarah-Tumbler that encases this potion - ferments fantasy,
Milk and Filter Coffee twirl, bubbling aura elevating senses in to a maze of ecstasy.

You are still the morning sun to my Yelda

From Wikipedia - Shabe Yaldā or Shabe Chelle is an Iranian festival originally celebrated on the Northern Hemisphere's longest night of the year, that is, on the eve of the Winter Solstice.

I am talking about a promise I had made a few blogs ago – The Kite Runner. Gist of it – I have fallen in love with the way Khaled Hosseini writes.

The book is about the unquenchable quest for that morning sun, it is about the long excruciating wait for that blissful dawn, it is about never-ending darkness looming a devilish cloud of melancholy and it is about conquering your Yelda. Above all – the book is about – Redemption.

As with Khaled’s second book (A Thousand Splendid Suns) – the book revolves around Afghanistan, the Afghanistan of turmoil, of pathos, of blood-drenched soil and of spirit, of conviction and of culture.

The book conveys its renderings through Amir – a diffident, self-indulgent, artistically-inclined Afghan boy – born to a rich father, The book is also about Amir’s friend and servant – Hassan – a Hazara boy – altruistic, all-forgiving and a boy of undying loyalty towards his near and dear ones. Hassan is the Kite Runner. He is that unflinching friend who would run that extra mile for Amir.

The story takes stark and sometimes suffocating turns through the 30 years (close to) it spans. Khaled gasps the reader for air with his heart-wrenching rendition of sordid human character, of spirit, of friendship and camaraderie, of selfless acts and of Afghanistan. Khaled brilliantly portrays relationships – of friends, of master and servants, of father and son and of husband and wife.

I relent from mentioning the plot - I shall only eulogize. No amount of eulogy can tantamount the vividness and clarity in Khaled’s portrayal – of characters and his legerdemain in conjuring almost movie-like scenes.

If I were to pick between the two Khaled books? The writing style is unchanged in the two – but vividness seeps in much more life-like in The Kite Runner. 'The Kite Runner' is far more melodramatic than 'A Thousand Splendid Suns' and far more heart-wrenching.

As Hassan says ‘ For you, a thousand times over’ – I am a Khaled Hossieni fan!

Pouring Care...

The sky blushes in its crimson hue as the fickle lightning caresses the clouds,
Rhythm – in resonance with my heart beat - reverberates on earthly sprouts.
Silky brushes of droplets trickle and pirouette on my unkempt hair,
Eyes turn heavenwards hailed by peaceful and upbeat blessings pouring care.

Happy New Year!!!

May 2008 pour care!

A Thousand Splendid Suns

Yes, this is about the book written by Khaled Hosseini.

The title of the book inspired by the work of Saeb-e-Tabrizi, Seventeenth Century Persian Poet –

“One could not count the moons that shimmer on her roofs
Or the thousand splendid suns that hide behind her walls”

The verse describes Kabul.

The book is set in a war-torn land, of unfulfilled dreams, of torrid times, of misinterpretations(religion and otherwise), of wrecked relationships and of earth- shattering lies. The book is also of camaraderie, of hope, of unencumbered ambitions and of sacrifice.

Khaled Hosseini narrates a story of simple characters coloured by intricate human emotions. The book is in itself - a saga , spanning close to 30 years. The saga begins by conjuring itself through eyes of Mariam – a quiet, unwavering, God-fearing and an illegitimate child - of medium intellect and of limited wants. The saga meanders in to the life of Laila – a bubbly and spirited girl of high ambitions and above average intellect. The book unwinds through turmoils of their lives and through the saga called Afghanistan.

Khaled Hosseini spectacularly transports his message through immaculate use of metaphors, through enlivening words and by creating an effusive melody of literature. His descriptions of characters - vividly personify and transport the reader in to his world of splendid suns.

In the end – the book is about Afghanistan. Where once ‘a thousand splendid suns’ hid – became a playground to parties who could care less of her walls. The book is about the women of Afghanistan. The plight is heart wrenching and words conjure, deftly, images of sorrows that shall move the readers to empathies.

I am picking up ‘The Kite Runner’ next. What about you?

Fleeting glance of enchantment!

Freshness and verve waft from the verdant cover that engulfs the Lion Den- setting up an esoteric stage,
Droplets of bliss descend from beguiling gray cover – flirting with the air still- elucidating terms of endearment.
Sparks fly setting off winds ensnared in worldly bothers in to a roaring rage,
Earth reeks a moist aura – heaven descends on this world providing a fleeting glance of enchantment!

Iguana Lore!

By the silvery river that serpentines through the heart of Singapore,
Wind bellowed and mellowed alternately – conjuring vividly the Iguana lore!
Tongue rolled in ecstasy – as Nachos and Tortillas enmeshed themselves in Salsa and White Cream,
Chimichanga and Quesadilla did satiate the Mexican crave - as Fajitas pumped their chest in full steam!

An evening at Clarke Quay in Cafe Iguana, in honour of Vinod(my mentor) at i-flex - the gang did indeed rock!

Nachos laoded with cream sitting pretty...

Quench all worldly repugnance!

White paws, Blue-gray coat and proud whiskers - titivates a beguiling smirk,
Miniscule frame, cheese frenzy and tricks up its guiltless countenance.
Eyes never fail to pop out, Forehead never ceases to distend, Tail never ceases to be ensnared in mouse trap – Tom shall never lose his quirk,
Cheese shall never fail to entice, Samaritans always to the rescue, Smirk that never ceases to conjure jocundity – Jerry shall quench all worldly repugnance!

Keep laughing away to glory!

Lost in Indonesia!

Idea of traveling always conjures animation and unparalleled zeal – which is what prospective 2 days at Bintan Island, Indonesia managed. But what lay ahead of me – was only to be experienced to be believed.

From Wikipedia ‘Bintan is the largest of 3,200 islands in the Riau Archipelago, and is located less than 40 kilometers from Singapore. Bintan has tropical forest and beautiful white beaches’. On that note Indonesia has 17,508 islands - on last count!!

Sesh(Fellow SP Jainiite),Karthik(Sesh’s Cousin) and myself backpacked, after not much deliberations over the fate of travel, were on our way to Bintan! 9 AM(10th November 2007) ferry(Aria Bupala) from Tanah Merah ferry terminal headed towards Bintan – Singapore is gateway to the ASEAN countries with easy accessibility to most of its neighbours. 9 AM and we reach Bintan( Shocked? Bintan is one hour behind Singapore).

We were ushered in to this resort island - Northern portion of Bintan – and find ourselves in Nirvana resorts being greeted by young Indonesians performing a ritual dance – with wide innocent beams on their countenance entrenched in their occupation and celebrating our arrival in all gung ho. After figuring out our way through the resort (more on the resort to come later) – we decide to head for Tanjung Pinang(Capital of the Island) – southern portion of Bintan.

For the uninitiated- Singapore – for the betterment of Indonesia ( as well as itself) helps manage and maintain these resort( a couple of dozen of the them on the northern shore of Bintan offering tourist a world full of water sports,beaches and golf courses) – whereas the rest of the island is what you would typify to come under Indonesia. En route to Tanjong Pinang we serpentined our way through winding roads bedecked on both sides by green shrubbery and stark red soil(rich in Bauxite as per our driver –Rudi). These were dotted by small villages – strikingly desolate and deprived of the most basic necessities. Finally , we hit Tanjung Pinang - only to be hit by pangs of hunger.

Hold on! Three TamBrams in the middle of Indonesia? Thankfully – Chinese Buddhist – form a sizeable population of Bintan and make the lives of similar such vegetarians as us less thorny. Post a 7000 Rupiah lunch – our sojourn continued. 7000 Rupiah??? 1 SGD is approximately 6300 Rupiah. 50 SGD fetched us 3 Lakh 15 Thousand Rupiahs! Amusement coupled with distress clouded Karthik’s face as he held out the notes. The country hit hard by the 1997 Asian Crisis; red tap-ism and political turmoil hitting this oil producing economy.


A quick walk around the Tanjung(Bay in Bahasa) followed by boat trip along the fishermen colony(houses in the creek supported on bamboos) and heading towards a Chinese(Buddhist) temple at Senggarang. Stench wafted from the waters that our doddering boat managed to cut as we were flummoxed at the state of the bamboos that supported the hutments. At the Chinese Temple, history somehow reeked – although age and dilapidation seemed to have creeped on faster.

Post a saunter around the market area at Tanjung Pinang – we headed for Pasar Oleh Oleh(Pasar means Market Place in Bahasa and Oleh means Souverneir) – haven for tourists from Singapore for tax free goods shall entice their spendthrift(ing) urges.


Back in the resort – we strolled by beach that rimmed it – white sands and lazy waves brushing against foggy and misty clouds at the horizon – it was blissful and unaware of the world outside. As a hammock titillated between two coconut trees in the cool breeze ( climate here soothes – is mostly cloudy and averages 25 degree celcius though out the year).

A reassuring session at the Jacuzzi and a few saunters later bed beckoned.


I was up next day – 11th November - by 7 AM clicking away at the white sands and the coconut trees. The resort had one of those coconut trees – which you always think are creation of the movies - tilted at such an obtuse angle that it almost touched the sea floor ( By design I presume for it was supported on a concrete structure).

Breakfast beckoned – double omelet, bread toasts, salads, muffins, coffee and loads of pineapple. If bliss conjure itself in Indonesia – it is through those juicy pineapples that this country produces in humongous quantities. One hour of breakfast and soul levitated to unprecedented heights. Beach Volleyball and some more photographic experimentations later – it was time to get the first ferry back – Singapore.

Struggle ensued in pursuance of tickets at the ferry terminal – but we managed! Indera Bupala cruised us across the South China Sea and post a Mysore Masala Dosa at Komala’s – I was where I began , with memories I shall carry – forever.