Winter

A single icicle juts out in front of my window, dripping slowly in the bright sunshine. Spring is just around the corner. I carefully make my way down the sidewalks covered in snow, soon to be packed into an uncrossable sheet of ice. I can't help thinking that winter this year has been worse than the last. My gloved hands return to my coat pockets, still stinging gently under the light wool. The trees are still bare; the colors of fall a many months away. For now, I wait patiently for warmer weather, for spring and then summer. Until then I pray that we've received the last heavy snowfall for the season.

Of Gut-Wrenching Poverty

Life in India is full of contradictions, as any visitor to the country will tell you. For someone living in India, however, reconciling these contradictions is essential for survival. It is hard if not impossible, to be faced with crippling poverty on a daily basis and not feel an overwhelming sense of sadness and guilt.
My home state of Maharashtra was recently contemplating changing the rules so that taxi permits would only be issued to persons who had lived in the state for at least fifteen years and can "read and write marathi (the local language)". The move is primarily aimed at keeping migrant workers from poorer states from acquiring local jobs. In a country where a vast number of people are illiterate, where we have failed to provide our poorest and most vulnerable sections of society with a minimum standard of living, where large sections of the population go hungry, this is what the Government imagines up. Perhaps we should soon expect a set of minimum qualifications that all of the urban poor must meet if they want to subsist amongst the more affluent. The irony is not lost on me.

The films of Louis Malle and India

Louis Malle is a wonderful filmmaker. Each of his films, that I have had an opportuinity to see, have been magnificent (Au Revoir Les Enfants, Lacombe Lucien, Le Souffle au Coeur, L'Inde Fantome, Calcutta) and I highly recommend them all. The last two in the list deserve special mention. L'Inde Fantome (Phantom India) and Calcutta are documentaries that were filmed in the late 70's in India, and they paint a startling, enchanting and at times disturbing portrait of India 40 years ago. If, like me, you have had a chance to see modern day India, these films might give you a new perspective on India's development in the past few years.

Two Movies and Some Fiction

What follows is another random bit of writing. Everything here is pure fiction, more or less anyway, that I was almost compelled to write after a couple of movies that I recently saw - "One Day You'll Understand" (Plus Tard) by Amos Gitai, and "The Class" (Entre les Murs) by Laurent Cantet. I highly recommend them both.

Its just another evening, no different from any other. A night out with friends, at the local pub. We've had a couple of rounds of beer each. "Nowhere close to my limit yet", I think. I excuse myself and head off to the restroom. My feet momentarily falter. Im almost surprised that im that drunk already. So much for my ability to hold my alcohol. By the time I've converted two pints into litres, and then calculated 5.7% of that, Im already back at the bar. One last draught and the glass is empty. "Just one last pint for the day, and then Im done", I decide. Drinks are ordered. Everyone seems happy. I look accross at a friend. He has a silly smile on his face. He's busy telling us how much he loves us. I smile. I turn back to my other friends. They are busy having a heated discussion about something. I can't really make out everything they are saying... but occasionally, I hear platitudes, I hear the same arguments repeated over and over... old wine in a new bottle ... except no one seems to realize that its the same old bottle. Im not sure if its the alcohol or just me, but I don't care. Im comfortable. Im happy. Its great to be out with friends.

I've seen enough

"I've seen enough, of nothing news,

The blackest stain on history, or last laugh blues.

Not gonna fight not gonna cry,

Not gonna shop around for one flag to fly."

-I've seen enough by The Cold War Kids.

There is a limit to stupidity ... right? Wrong. If you're a right-wing group in India you just keep creating new issues, each more ridiculous then the previous one. (For example, see this or this) But each new issue they raise is just so ridiculous that you have to stop and 'applaud' their creativity. After all, at some point the rational, thinking part of the brain chimes in. It points out errors in your thought processes, it identifies flaws in arguments, it throws reason at you, it hits you with a dose of logic. To reach a point when you can suppress the 'intelligent' parts of your brain and be ruled by insanity takes effort. Lot of it.

What then of the thinking, silent majority (at least I like to think that this is the majority of the population)? How long before they tire under the constant insanity heaped on them by our 'defenders of culture', our 'moral police'? How long before they stop trying to reason with these insane fools? How long before they stop trying to talk sense into the minds of the insane? After all, of what use are arguments and explanations to these mindless and witless few?

Thankfully there are some who haven't given up and who hopefully never will, as this innovative (?) campaign demonstrates. Thank God for them!

On love or the lack of it

"I love you", he says. It sounds natural, unrehearsed, almost like he means it. She won't know the difference... Or will she? Does she see it in his eyes, in his smile, the way his lips move as he say this? 

He thinks he sees it in her eyes. That brief momentary flash of doubt... but this time it seems to linger a little longer, almost uncomfortably so. Her smile betrays her words. "I love you too", she says.

He remembers something his friend once said ... "there's just the moment, the now and nothing else matters". You can analyze your life over and over, rethinking, pondering, what would you do different if you could, what would you change if you could... and would that change 'the now'? Aren't you better off just living 'in the now'? Maybe your life isn't perfect, but that shouldn't stop you from enjoying it, should it? But that's harder said than done.

He thinks back to when they first met. Was it love at first sight? He doesn't think so. He has always had his doubts. A woman flashes in his mind... red lips, red dress. Remembrance slowly washes over him ...  ... Aah ... the bar ... last night ...  He quickly shakes the thought out of his mind. But he loved her before ... didn't he? Was it all a lie? And what now... should he continue smiling, saying words he no longer truly means, acting out this part that he has so expertly been playing for the last few years. Or should he throw it all away, in search of true love. He smiles ... he thought he had already found true love ... "what makes me think next time will be any different?", he wonders. He waves goodbye from the car.

Until tomorrow.

Unaccustomed Earth, Language, Identities

I recently began reading Jhumpa Lahiri's 'Unaccustomed Earth'. One of the stories describes the life of Rupa, the daughter of Bengali immigrant parents, born and brought up in the USA. At one point in the story, Rupa reflects on the fact that although she grew up speaking Bengali when she was young, her conversing skills in Bengali are not what they used to be and that she has begun to find it harder and harder to carry on a conversation in Bengali - her native language. As a child growing up in a multilingual household, in many ways, I understand her predicament. You would think that growing up immersed in multiple languages, I would be highly conversant in all of them. Unfortunately as it turned out, I essentially spoke only English at home and I would describe my abilities in the other languages, that I grew up with, as being average at best. As I think back now, I feel a sense of loss. It almost feels like I am losing a link to a part of my culture. That being said, the fact of the matter is that we live in an increasingly globalized world. Being comfortable and conversant in English, the language of my adopted home (and across much of the world) has proved to be extremely helpful. So I guess that in a sense, this loss has a silver lining after all- I have moved from being a citizen of my native country to being a citizen of the world.