The Story of Parth

A Puppy Called Hope (Letters to Parth - 11)

2011-12-25T08:40:00.000-08:00

Time is too slow for those who wait, too swift for those who fear, too long for those who grieve, too short for those who rejoice, but for those who love – time is eternity.

Dear Hardyk Babu, My angel and my snowman, my candy cane and my plumcake,

I am sure you have been a good boy this year, and that Santa will be very happy with you. I know Santa is happy with me, since he has given me the strength to go through all that I have been through in these last few years and has promised me the most glorious new year ever.

Like almost everything else in life, for every person who believes in Christmas, there are two that don’t. Fortunately, that is not enough to take the air out of this wonderful festival, and the world over, people get ready to celebrate the birth of Jesus Christ on December 25 as the Christ Mass. The festive season that starts with Thanksgiving (a harvest festival that was reworked to give thanks for the protection of the European colonizers of North America) reaches its “spiritual” height with Christmas and then climaxes over the new year’s celebrations.

In the modern world, where we consider ourselves a liberated and secular society, all people celebrate Christmas with equal fervour, and it has become one of the major festivals of our times. I grew up with Christmas being one time that our entire family would get together, I would be home for the winter break from school, and all my cousins and aunts and uncles would be in town too. As most of my exposure centred around art and literature that referred to a Christian understanding of life and morality, I was familiar with the idea. I knew that it was the birthday of Jesus Christ (or so I was told, since there is a very large body of knowledge to suggest otherwise), and that Santa was not a misspelling of Satan, but someone who brought gifts to kids who had been more or less good most of the year. I would hang up my sock at the head of my bed every Christmas eve and would find it filled with gifts the next morning. It was not until I was a teenager that I stopped hanging a sock up. Over the last few years though, I have again started hanging my sock up every Christmas, and in his own way, Santa has been filling it up too.

As soon as December would come around, we would be waiting when the Christmas tree would be pulled down from the loft, and the box of decorations and bauble audited for what needed to be bought fresh. Dried fruits would be drenched in liquors and kept ready for baking rich fruit cakes. When I was small, I was not included in the secret planning for buying gifts for everyone, but later, I would be part of that too. Secret, because no one should come to know what their gifts were till Christmas Day itself. The chill of the winter evenings would make our cheeks go red as we went from doorstep to doorstep with a three chord guitarist and rest of our teenage band that remained like unset jelly till it had to be discarded, singing carols, overflowing with the spirit of light and love. The fact that none of us were Christians by subscription did not stop us from being Christians at heart, and this was something that was not restricted to just the festive season.

The principles of love, forgiveness, compassion, universal brotherhood of man, and nonviolence that Jesus taught through his life are principles that our times are desperately in need of. Of course, man, in his finite wisdom has managed to carve up even something as beautiful as Christianity into sects and denominations that have more to disagree upon than unite for. This, unfortunately is true of all religions today. The fault does not lie with the religions, but with the temptation of power that comes with articulated and organized religion.

As children, it was the goodies though that were more important that the Joycean debates about religion and politics that were the highlights of Christmas. Typically, there would be a variety of baked stuff going around in every home, from plum cakes to pies, and Christmas eve dinner would traditionally be an elaborate continental spread, with soups and breads, roasts and sauces, and wines and puddings. If I was able to stay up till midnight, there would be a ritualistic unwrapping of the gifts that would mysteriously appear at the foot of the Christmas tree. I would struggle to stay awake all night so that I could see Santa Claus come in and stuff the sock, but all I would get would be a scolding from my dad when he would come into the room and find me still awake. Lunch on Christmas day would be a little more desi, but usually still loaded with animal proteins and elaborate preparations.

In some form or the other, these traditions have continued into the present. Like many others who observe Christmas in spite of being indifferent to organized religions, I still try and be home for Christmas. I still hang up a sock in my heart. I still reflect on the life of Jesus and what he stood for, perhaps a little more mindfully on this day than on any other day of the year.

As I write this, wars rage furiously across Yemen and Syria, Pakistan and Afghanistan, Mexico and Colombia, and Sudan and Somalia. Millions die from hunger, from lack of medical attention, and from hate crimes, farmer suicides and honor killings in our own country. Families and loved ones build walls of resentment, judgement and discrimination between each other. Politicians and corporates pursue greed and power, without realizing that matter is finite, and one cannot create material benefit without taking it away from someone else, without realizing that all glory and all power belongs to the supreme being that all religions try to describe and worship. Yet, in the midst of all this there is hope, there is faith, and there is charity. But that is another story altogether, and I will save it for another day.

Let me leave you with lines by the same person who wrote the lines that this post starts with,

I am thinking of you today because it is Christmas
and I wish you happiness.
And tomorrow, because it will be the day after Christmas,
I shall still wish you happiness.
My thoughts and my wishes will be with you always.
Whatever joy comes to you will make me glad.
All through the year
I wish you the spirit of Christmas.
- Henry Van Dyke

The way we have been being good, very soon Santa will make it possible for us to be together, of this I and all at home are certain. Do stay warm in these cold months, drink a lot of water, and listen to your elders. Follow your heart and never doubt where it leads you to. Ask questions and don’t stop asking till you are satisfied. People may get annoyed or even angry, but then that is their problem. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

Happy Children's Day

2011-11-14T19:21:00.001-08:00

Children's Day is celebrated in India on November 14, which is the birthday of Chacha Nehru whose real name was Jawaharlal. He was called Chacha Nehru because he had to be an uncle to some of the children of his times. There is no truth in the myth that he was called Chacha because of his fondness for dancing though he was reported to be good at teaching others how to dance. He also wrote one of the nicest books on the history of India called The Discovery of India.

At schools, this day is celebrated like a return gift for all the things that kids do on Teachers Day. Very often teachers use this day to have some fun themselves by participating in cultural programs to entertain their students. I used to love Children's day celebration when I was in school, especially the comic skits that the teachers would perform for us. The school I went to as a child was a very propah school run by missionaries (missionaries are professional soldiers who are too old to be fighting). They believed in doing things in a spiritual way, so they would never punish us physically. If you did something that was really bad (like mixing fireworks powder in Fr. Grogan's pipe tobacco), they would send you with the class monitor and a slip of paper to the sports teacher, Mr. Ekka. There would be a number written on that piece of paper which Mr. Ekka would read and convert into beatings with a short leather strap either on our bum or on our hands, depending on which was in better health from the previous set of straps. But on teachers day, Mr. Ekka, would not beat anyone and any pending straps would be replaced with yummy strawberry flavored whistle lollipops. But we all knew that the real reason he would be so happy on Children's day was because he would be acting in a play with Ms. Toppo, the one who made moral sciences the most exciting class of them all.

Other than activities at school, Children's Day in India is also used to kickstart programs for children, launch film festivals, and election campaigns. The United Nations observes November 20 as Universal Children's Day, so that children on other planets and in other galaxies are also included.

This year, Google set its logo to a graphic by Varsha Gupta, a class 3 student from Delhi who won the Doodle for Google contest for the children's day logo. The Google Doodle has been a wonderful project by Google that uses its "google" logo on the search giant's homepage to honor various events, festivals, and people. Among recent ones, my favorite was the Flash video on Freddie Mercury which Google used on the occasion of Teacher's Day this year.

Happy Teacher's Day

2011-09-06T04:52:00.000-07:00

September 5 is celebrated in India as Teachers Day. On this day, all learners go about saying Happy Teachers Day to their teachers. Regardless of whether the teacher is a happy teacher or an unhappy teacher, you still say Happy Teachers Day to them, at least on this day. It is also the birthday of Sarvepalli Radhakrishnan, the second president of India, who also wrote one of the most rational commentaries on the Bhagavad Gita. He spent much of his life teaching philosophy, which made him a happy teacher.

Daisaku Ikeda has this to say to young children on this day, "young people in school should make study their first priority. It goes without saying that faith is important, but faith is something we practice throughout our entire lives. There is a certain period and age when we should study. If we don't work hard during that period, we may fail to acquire important knowledge and skills, and we may come to regret it deeply later. Faith manifests itself in daily life. For young people in school, faith manifests itself in their studies. During this period, to devote themselves to study represents an important part of their practice of faith."

Where were you when...? (Letters to Parth - 10)

2011-08-20T07:02:00.001-07:00

Dear Hardyk, my alphabet, my soaring eagle,

You are five! Happy Birthday! This is a very special time of your life, and you should never for a moment doubt that the universe intends you to become all that you are capable of becoming. Know that you are loved, longed for, and prayed over, no matter what your environment may lead you to feel.

The will of the universe has stood in the way of our being together at this point in time, but I, like a carp leaping through the dragon gate, am unshaken in my faith that this will change soon. Your Dadu and Thammi are in Hyderabad dealing with some strange things, and I am doing all I can to bail them out, and they are very sad that they will not be able to be with you on your fifth birthday. I too am dealing with some strange things, and am amazed at all the new things that life is teaching me. A lot of what we understand as deprivation and misfortune are the very reasons for our becoming stronger and better human beings. It is as true for you and me, as it is for anybody else.

A common way of remembering history of our times is by asking and answering, where were you when..., or what were you doing when...? The question that will be asked for years to come is where were you when the Indian civil society's fight against corruption was taking place. You and I are blessed to be celebrating your birthday at this time of great importance, a time that will go down in history as pivotal to determine whether we will have a future to hold our heads high in to or nothing to be proud of. You must already be seeing his picture on TV, and perhaps you have even been part of the protests in Hyderabad in his support, but as you grow up, you will learn more about Anna Hazare and his fight against corruption.

He is an old man who is leading the popular protest against the practice of abusing public office by government officials, a simple, often naive and childlike, man (childlike is not a good word for grown up men is what I am told, but then I am told many things which are totally untrue) who has become the symbol of public anger and frustration with an unfair system. Many people consider him to be crazy, stubborn, and even worse than just crazy and stubborn. Thank God for the crazy and stubborn people of this world, though, since they are the only ones who are willing to fight for what is right.

His movement started by demanding that the government (of India) introduce the Lokpal Bill, which would set up an independent body that the common man can take his complaints of corruption to, which could then investigate and redress. He and four other social activists started a protest fast in April this year, which forced the government to invite them to be part of a Drafting Committee for the Bill. We do not know for fact what happened during the drafting process, since both the government representatives and the civil society representatives have their own version. But the media focus on the people concerned and the government's response to it made it very clear to the people that they were not willing to allow an effective solution to corruption at all levels in governance to emerge.

The subsequent months saw the government use the police to crack down on similar protests in a brutal manner, and to go public with its views that it had been very nice in the past, and it was not necessary for the people to poke their nose into how the nation should be run. All of its arrogance only made the common man more and more furious, and people from all walks of life began to speak up against the politicians.

The media attention given to both parties helped the public at large to see the people as they really were, and make their own conclusions. The simplicity, determination and earnestness of the civil society team stood in stark contrast to the arrogance and defiance, if not hypocrisy, of those in governance. But public anger had reached a point where they were able to respond to this defiance with an equally strong defiance. Anna's logic was simple, we will protest, all you can do is put us in jail, we will continue to protest, you continue to put us in jail, we will continue till you run out of jail space. For the first time, the common man had a benchmark in these crusaders that they could measure their elected representatives against.

At the end of it, they refused to present the views of the civil society for discussion by the Parliament. On 16th of August, 2011, after all attempts to get the people's version of the bill to be placed for discussion failed, Anna and his team launched their protest fast again, but this time, the government was in no mood to listen any more to the people who had elected them to power. It arrested the leaders of the movement and put them in jail. For the supporters, who were in thousands, the police turned a public stadium into a makeshift jail and kept putting busloads of people away. When this news came through, people all over the country and even abroad were shocked! They came out to protest across the nation, and the government was forced to release Anna and his team to continue with their protest.

What happened after that is most interesting. The movement, which began as a way to get the government to pass a law that had been proposed more than forty years back, evolved into a citizen's movement against all that is wrong in the system. People began to come out of their home and out into the streets to stand up and be counted as angry with the injustices around them. As discussion and dialog evolve, it is becoming more and more clear that while the issue we, the people, are addressing are much more than corruption in governance, being able to see proof that wrongdoing can be redressed in a system as powerful as governance will be a first step towards freeing our selves from all that is hurtling us towards destruction.

You might be bored by now. Do enjoy your birthday. Know that all of us are determined to achieve total victory, one that sets us free to fulfill our destinies, one in which there is truth and dignity, and one in which there are no losers. Pride is a good thing, as long as it does not blind you to the truth. Be proud that you can see things as they are.

Till we meet,

Subho

If Ramzan is here, can Justice be far behind?

2011-07-29T22:02:00.000-07:00

The Holy month of Ramzan is upon us, and hence, this repost from earlier.

All religious festivals carry great wisdom and learning for all of us, regardless of our religion or lack of religion. Precisely because we, as a race and not as religions, are looking at a future overrun by our excesses of greed and ignorance is it essential that we resolve to leave intolerance and anger aside and imbibe the wisdom that life offers to us. All the strife that we have been witness to in the name of religions and gods and righteousness should only make our determination to build a peaceful future stronger.

The Quran says, "O, ye who believe, strengthen yourselves with resolution and prayer, for Allah is with those who persevere in adversity." Mankind today is dealing with adversity most specifically from religious and spiritual intolerance. Frequently, this intolerance builds up to the point of hatred and desire for vengeance. It is easy to understand this on a personal level when we look at personal friendships and enmities, and then the global perspective becomes clearer as we try and multiply our hatred and love several billion times over.

Ramzan is the ninth month in the Islamic calendar commemorating the revelation of the first verses of the Quran to the Prophet. On the Gregorian calendar, this kind of slides backwards a little every year; the last couple of years, Ramzan has been the August-September month.

Like all religious festivals, there are various interpretations of the meaning of the name Ramzan, various spellings, and various ways of celebrating it. Some say that the name Ramzan is derived from the Arabic root word 'ramida' or 'arramad' that means intense heat and dryness. Ramzan is so called to indicate the heating sensation in the stomach as a result of thirst. Others said it is so called because Ramzan or Ramadan scorches out the sins as it burns the ground. Some said it is so called because the hearts and souls are more readily receptive to the admonition and remembrance of Allah during Ramzan, as the sand and stones are receptive to the sun's heat.

During Ramzan, practicing muslims fast from dawn (sehri) to dusk (iftar), and attempt to keep their thoughts focused on the teachings in their scriptures, and refrain from harboring negative thoughts, and as the wikipedia says, ask forgiveness for past sins, pray for guidance and help in refraining from everyday evils, and try to purify themselves through self-restraint and good deeds.

In Hyderabad, as in many parts of India, Ramzan is a major festive month, ending in Eid Ul Fitr. This Eid is not the Eid which is Bakr Eid, which you can read about here. The night bazar for festive shoppers in the old city is a major attraction as it sets out after the break of fast, and builds up not only through the night as sehri preparations beckon, but also as the month progresses towards Eid. Some of the finest glassware, attars, imitation jewelry, and clothes are up for sale and real cool bargains are the highlights for the diligent shopper. It is very crowded and you should take great care not to get separated from your companions. As you move from Madina Bazaar to Machli Kaman on Pathergatti Road, you will find shops set up on carts, spilling out of the sidewalks into the street, consuming two thirds of the road, the remaining one third is for pedestrians and vehicles to find harmony in. On the last couple of days before Eid, vehicles are not allowed, since the crowds grow too large.

Ramzan is also the time when haleem is prepared and sold at numerous outlets across the city as a sustaining food for the fasting. However, for the religionless foodie in me, it is a major attraction that makes Ramzan all the more sacred. You will want to find out more about haleem, the variations of it (vegetable, chicken, mutton, beef) and harees, and how tasty it is!! While Pista House has acquired a lot of fame, I like the ones at Shadaab, Sarvi, Garden, and Bawarchi too. The chicken harees stall at the mosque opposite Bajaj Electronics at Punjagutta is one of my favorites over years, as is the Kalyani Haleem set up just outside the mosque in the lane beside Y2K restaurant at the Punjagutta junction.

All religions are ways of disciplining ourselves to find that which we were created for, to be able to live and express ourselves to our fullest potential. As we have evolved, we have learned to question, and religions are also an attempt to provide us with workable and satisfactory answers. However, with this attempt to provide answers came the temptation of control and power, and that is how Men of God or Godmen came into being. In simple terms, these are priests, pujaris, padres, maulvis, acharyas and all other such people who claim to be intermediaries or representatives of the divine. The divine, whether you call him God, Thakur, Allah, Buddha, nothingness, whatever, has neither appointed these commission agents nor has the need to. It is merely our ignorance and our fear that give these men power to claim to be intermediaries. To know more about how similar we are even in our festivities, read this post by Sridhar Patel.

But this post is about enjoying festivals, so take out your shiny new clothes, put on your dancing shoes, and let the music play!! And as for Pastor Jones' and his Quran burning, that was all a huge misunderstanding, it appears, he only meant to burn the Quran on to DVD so that it could be made available to people easily!!

Other traditions make music too.

The Man Who Drew Horses

2011-07-15T07:41:00.000-07:00

M.F. Husain, known for his eccentricities of refusing to wear footwear and going Hermes suited but bare feet to the snootiest of institutions much to the discomfiture of the other patrons, and for his controversies over depiction of Hindu deities, lived life king size. It is tragic that this artist who brought international acclaim to Indian contemporary art (he was invited along with Picasso at the Sao Paulo Biennial in 1971), had to spend his last years exiled from his motherland charged with obscenity by keepers of Hindu morality.

Sunil Das and M.F. Hussain are two Indian painters who are most famous for painting horses. You must look up their work to see how they have used the lines and motion of this animal in their paintings. You can read my tribute to the genius of Hussain on the occasion of his death earlier this year by clicking here.

George "Jazzy Jacob" Gershwin

2011-07-15T00:05:00.001-07:00

One of the most amazing composers of our times was George Gershwin, who is remembered primarily as a songwriter and composer with most of his work written for Broadway musicals and operas.

While most younger listeners have heard the Gershwin masterpiece, Summertime, in one or the other of its myriad interpretations in jazz, soul, and even rock, and perhaps even his other popular songs, Ain't Necessarily So, I got Rhythm, Embraceable You, and of course, Swanee, it is in his orchestral compositions that his genius really comes through. I have only heard three of them and they continue to astound me with their richness, complexity and beauty. You can read more about this genius (who died on July 11, 1937, at the age of 38, of brain cancer) by clicking here.

Angel In Blue

2011-05-28T00:39:00.000-07:00

Angel In Blue

Angel in blue
Aflicker amid a thousand
Heads and faces, nuns and priests
You did not see me then, I saw you
And our worlds drew us apart
Thieves were at work
Angel in blue.

Now the drive is deserted night
The music has died the people are gone
I saw you swallowed into the belly
Of a scarlet converted van
You never knew but it was I
Who kissed you goodbye

Angel in blue
I know where you sleep
Who you keep in your weariness
The restless dream in your gentle steps
I know your skin, your smell, your tears,
Angel in blue.

Angel when you rise a sudden
Sensing someone in the room
Or in a crowded tram hear
Somebody call your name
When skies of music wrap your soul
Know it's me and no one else
Angel in blue.

(c) Subhorup Dasgupta

Read More at Trillium Gallery Word Art

As Dark as the Buddha's Will...

2011-05-17T19:12:00.000-07:00

The birth of Shakyamuni Buddha or Gautama Buddha is observed in the summer months in India as Buddha Purnima or Buddha Jayanti. You can read a letter I wrote three years back on the occasion.

You would have figured out by now that when I do refer to Buddha, I don't really care how you or I perceive Buddha in terms of how we visualize the concept of the person Buddha. I have been fortunate to have my eyes opened to the timelessness of the being of Buddha, the timelessness of his enlightenment and the simultaneity of the being of Buddha and all of existence. Sounds weird. It does to me, though not weird weird, but obvious weird once you get it. Was the Buddha black? Was he bald? Was he weird? Did he have a nervous tic or some funny mannerism? Burton Watson's translation of The Kumarajiva Lotus Sutra references "features that are featureless." To me, Buddha is me when I am in harmony with all of existence across all of time. You may want to read more about this here.

The month of Buddha's birth is also the month when I lost both my Thammi's, both dad's mom, and mom's mom (at different times though). Your Thammi’s mom was called Parul. It was from her that I heard the story of the seven Champa brother and their sister, Parul.

Madidi, as I called her, was the most beautiful person I have ever met. She went to join her brothers in the sky this month 29 years ago. I had to struggle a bit to reconstruct the story, since I was very small when I heard it, and at some places, I have made it up as honestly as one can make things up. Anyway, on with the story...

A long time ago, even before your Madidi’s Madidi was a little girl, there lived a king in the beautiful kingdom of Sundarpur, who had seven wives. Though he was a king, and kings (like you, me, and let’s say the IMF chief) get to do whatever they want, he was very sad, because he did not have any children who would inherit the throne. He would walk about in the forest all alone, so that others would not see his sorrow. Everyone secretly felt sad for him though they would not show it on their faces. Or so I am told.

One day, as he was walking in the forest, lost in his thoughts (not in the forest), a rishi or a wise man saw him, and touched by his sorrow, he gave him a special and strange fruit which he asked him to give to his queen, and which would then give him an heir to the throne. The king gave his three wives the fruit as instructed by the priest. The two elder queens did not produce any children. However, the youngest queen conceived. As soon as this news reached the King, he danced with happiness and all round festivities took over the kingdom of Sundarpur. He announced the good news by opening up the royal treasury and distributing his wealth among the people. He was no Suresh Kalmadi or A. Raja.

The elder queens, who were already very jealous that the youngest queen had conceived and were present when the children were being born, became very angry and jealous. As the youngest queen began to give birth, they were surprised to see that she delivered seven boys one after the other, and then a girl. Out of spite, they took and buried the babies in the garden before the younger queen gained consciousness and replaced them with seven puppies and a crab next to her. I remember when your Thammi asked me if I preferred a brother or a sister, I had asked for a puppy if it was not too much trouble. Well, I am glad that she didn’t listen since Tipukaka is the most wonderful brother one could ever have asked for.

When the king came and saw the newborns lying next to the queen, he was furious, and in his rage, branded the youngest queen a witch and banished her from the kingdom. I guess the puppies were not very cute. The other queens were very happy. The youngest queen went away and lived on the outskirts of the kingdom in a broken hut, and kept herself alive by begging and working as a maid.

The mystic law spares no one, no matter if they are kings and queens or high priests or priestesses, and seeing this injustice, mother nature decided to stop the flowering of trees and flowing of rivers, and soon there was a very bad famine in the land. People suffered a lot as no crop would grow. There were not even flowers for the royal household to offer to the gods.

One day, the royal priest came running with the news that he had come to know of a single Parul and seven Champa flowers, all growing on the same tree in the royal garden. But when he went to pick them they went high above his reach, singing that they would come down only if the king came to pick them. Upon being told this, the king immediately rushed to the garden, and as he looked at the lovely flowers, he felt something in his gut, almost like they were his children. Brushing it aside as moving gas from last night’s dinner, he went to pluck the flowers. But again, they leaped up beyond his reach and sang out, only if he got the eldest queen to come pick them would they come down. The king summoned the eldest queen. But as she reached out, they leaped up and sang again, only if the second queen comes, will they etc., etc., and this went on till they had made all the six queens come. At the sixth queen’s reaching out, they sang, only if the beggarwoman who stays on the outskirts of the kingdom comes to pick them, will they come down. The king, although surprised, sent for the woman, since kings feel awfully confronted when someone asks for something, and the only way they can respond is by doing what they are told.

The youngest queen, with her madwoman looks was brought in, and the king asked her to approach the flowers. As she did, the flowers sang out, “mother, mother,” and gently dropped into her outstretched palms. The king was very puzzled at their singing and asked why they were calling her “mother.” At this, the flowers went poof and changed into seven princes and one princess, and they told the king the whole sorry tale. The king understood, and repented, and banished the six elder queens forever.

He begged the youngest queen for forgiveness (and since this is all a story, she forgave him) and they lived happily ever after with the seven brothers Champa and sister Parul.

Will leave it to you to find out more about your dad's dad's mom. Her name was Asrubala. She was a medicine woman. Like all things obvious, she was pretty too. Pretty weird that is. But that would bring us back to Occam and Pinocchio's exchange program. Point less. Enjoy!!

...evam Indrajit

2011-05-16T20:18:00.000-07:00

I did not get to read or watch Badal Sarkar (15 July 1925–13 May 2011) till way into high school, in spite of having the good fortune of being schooled into falling in love with reason, maths and physics by the wickedly brilliant Abhijeet Sarkar to whom I remain indebted to this day. What I did get to know was the romance of his theater as witnessed by others. My mother would tell of the annual genetic glitch that makes all Bengali's go a little weird around Durga Puja, and how the aristocrats of Beleghata would have luminaries come and do their thing at the family puja pandal. There would be magicians and comedians, singers and dancers, playwrights and mimics, poets and film stars, positively a last night but three of an inverted Pablo Fanques.

I would sit and listen with awe when she would tell me of her first watch of Evam Indrajit, penned two years before I was born, about how the play began by demolishing the third wall and had the protagonist start out from among the audience, and as a true blue bong, in my mind, evam was spelled ebong, and till I read the play myself, I persisted in my delusion of thinking it was a tale of a bong, Indrajit.

As a pain in the neck of the Department of Comparative Literature at Jadavpur University in the early 90s, it was with surprise that I witnessed this white haired man walk in and sit in the classrooms to do his masters in complit with kids young enough to be his grandchildren. Hell, his son taught us in high school. Chappie gets a Padma Shri in 1972, and is offered a Padma Bhushan last year (2010) which he turns down claiming that he is already a recipient of the highest recognition to a writer, that of being a fellow of the Sahitya Akademi, and he can do without a Padma Bhushan. Well that was Badal Sarkar for you.

When I read about his death, the first thing I felt was, this must be another joke of his. I switched news channels to return to graver things, the fall of the Left front in West Bengal after 34 years, a fall brought about by a frail, crazy, and lovable woman who refused to give up. The next morning, I read the obits, and I knew it was for real. My tribute to this genius is in the links on this page, most of which are ads for stuff to buy, like pots, pans and books.

I am in no way qualified to comment on his body of work or his importance in the scheme of things. However, I have been reading a lot of commentary on his life and work, and feel that I should share some of it for posterity. There are so many people who are unaware of what he did for our world and why his efforts are important. I am going to copy and paste Ananda Lal's very nice and precise article from The Telegraph here, since all attempts to make a link happen has failed till now. You can find the article online at the Telegraph website by clicking the links above or you can read much of it here.

"Trust Sudhindra Sircar to make a theatrical exit from this great world stage on a day of high political drama. In a scene worthy of his own plays, laced with comic irony, as newspapers screamed banner headline stories about the Grass-roots Revolution, in one of the few unrelated thumbnails that somehow clawed their tiny way on to the news pages, the impish face of Sudhindra (aka Badal) Sircar smirked his last farewell. As if to say, remember me, grass-roots activist before the term was coined?

True to his life, and ours. Caught up in the pressures of here and now, we have a tendency to forget those of our own who in the recent past made Calcutta a name to reckon with worldwide. I have a problem with obituaries for precisely this reason: we pay homages that the subjects themselves cannot read. It seems to me far more urgent to write these tributes while the great men and women are alive, to tell them we shall remain indebted to their contributions. Like many of them, Badal-da felt in his later years that Calcutta was ignoring him. I can understand — hardly any features on or interviews of him appeared in the mainstream media; even in more specialised periodicals and academic publications, articles or essays were rarities.

Yet in the theatre community beyond, he was synonymous with Calcutta. How many of this city’s celebrities today can honestly claim international recognition? Badal-da could, one of the last to leave among his generation of artists and authors whose name meant more in the world outside than at home, who sadly did not receive as much attention here as they should have. We have many famous directors here who travel in India and abroad, with and without their productions, but how many have truly inspired and influenced the course of their art outside Bengal?

Badal-da did. All theatre workers, from Amol Palekar in Mumbai to H. Kanhailal in Manipur, mourn today. His plays in regional-language translations and workshops that he conducted transformed their lives and careers, and also introduced the new directions of street theatre to conventional traditions, from Hindi to Tamil. An entire generation of disciples sheds silent tears in respect.

In Bengali theatre he ushered in three crucial changes. After his early period of funny but innocuous farces (he always had a wry sense of humour), the premiere of Evam Indrajit at Muktangan and its publication in 1965 established absurdist existentialism as a viable stage medium — and after its translation across India, that play quickly became a contemporary classic now studied in many Indian universities. It stays relevant in our time, as young people feel bewildered where global forces are taking them. In subsequent works, Badal-da grew obsessed by the possibilities of nuclear holocaust.

In 1972-73, he abandoned the proscenium stage for what he called anganmancha or “Third Theatre”. I vividly remember going to see his Spartacus in an upstairs room at the Academy of Fine Arts. An impressionable teenager already attracted to theatre, I found it curious that we had to sit on the floor in disconnected clusters. Suddenly we heard a growl of voices outside, intensifying rapidly, then the slaves rushing into the room and collapsing all over us. My toes curled inwards instinctively as one slave fell on my feet. I realised later how effective such shock tactics could be and have often reinvented them in my own productions.

Badal-da simultaneously began to take his troupe into villages, “places where no theatre group had ever gone” (as he justifiably used to say, for Bengali groups had started dismissing his ideas as “not theatre”), performing his brand of committed portable drama abjuring sets, lighting and makeup, wherever he found an empty space. At the end of each show, the actors took a cloth around, inviting viewers to give whatever they wished to offer as a token. Some groups still follow that model of non-commercialised artistic transaction, verily “poor theatre”, or grass-roots, as I mentioned earlier. Few have the courage to take this kind of socialistic stand.

I wonder now, as he smiles at us from his utopian Hattamala — a land of pure virtue where two thieves from our world arrive, in one of my favourite Sircar plays, Hattamalar Opare — what he might think of our political future."

Bhanusingher Padaboli

2011-05-10T05:28:00.000-07:00

Over the years, I have tried to grow flowering plants many times, but they would never make it past the first couple of weeks. People told me that, in spite of knowing my irises from lilies and buttercups from, well, butter cups, I was perhaps not meant to grow flowers. With time, I accepted it, and settled down contented with our many kinds of foliage green, variegating wherever I found place to root (US root, not AUS root). So it was with the usual early morning blurriness that I looked at the hardly-tended mint patch today with aphid-infested barren crocus leaves from a few summers back.

I blinked at the splotch of yellow that peeped through the greens and dusty-dry browns of summer in Panjagutta. I blinked again and looked closer.

Imagine my joy and surprise. Not only did the morning reveal a cloudy and cool day in the middle of a scorching Hyderabad May, but it also brought a flower home when one had reconciled to not having a flower home.

There he or she bloomed, right next to the struggling chili plant from the hills of north-east India, like a pulsatilla child clutching its mama's dress looking around for friends, like ginger tea and a whiff of albuterol on a stuffy winter evening, swaying and nodding in the morning breeze.

With all the wonderful things that have been happening the world around reflecting the wonderful things that are happening in each of our lives, this beautiful messenger seemed to be sending an auspicious splash of yellow and turmeric (funny, the name crocus is believed to be derived from the Arabic kurkum or saffron which in turn is derived from the Sanskrit for vermillion - kunkumam) affirmation our way.

As for the title of the post, May 7 this year was Bhanusingha's 150th birthday. you can read more here.

Easter 2011, Letting Go...(Letters to Parth - 9)

2011-04-24T09:05:00.000-07:00

My Dear Parth, my April hare, my lollipop,

It has been a nice run up to summer, since summer is always out there, never here. I have been good, was in no way responsible for the tsunami or the ensuing radiation and nuclear concerns in Japan and elsewhere, then I have been not so good, then I tried being good again, and ended up in real big trouble. One learns only with hard knocks and bruised elbows, I guess. I was not very crazy about "what my dad did when he was..." myths, and given your Dadu,, you will surely understand. He was the sweetest old geezer ever when he was my age. He was born many, many years ago, on Good Friday. He got called Subhash Goodman because of that, I am told, and somewhere down the line he changed into Surajit (Middle initial K for Kumar) Dasgupta. Thammi celebrates his birthday on April 20, though. Mia's birthday comes up just a few days later. And of, course, Easter, and eggs and dresses and dinners on large lush lawns. You will want to google more about this Christ stuff yourself. Darn, we should meet, all of us, Dadu, Thammi, Tipu, Chandreyee, Mia, and us!

The heat has been getting to people. That is why there are no pictures in this post. They pulled the plug on Satya Sai Baba this morning, the one who did a lot of miraculously amazing work (predicting the Sri Lanka World Cup win not among the major miracles, though) and brought back the values of Sai Baba of Shirdi (whom he believed he was a reincarnation of) to the town of Puttaparthi and its hinterland. These are lives worthy of study.

It is claimed that rabbits behave funny starting Feb and right through what we know as their mating season till the rains hit the coast in June. I have been studying rabbits and hares and found that they kind of chill in the second half of April, like a breather, in an Easter bunny kind of way. You must remind me to show you my rabid pictures. Yeah, we read and watched Cujo again. Two entirely different takes, almost like Kapurush O Mahapurush if they were the same story being told.

March and April, other than tax season in India and then in the US of A, are also the months when we observe Lent, regardless of our religion, since Lent is really more about reflection, repentance, letting go, and starting afresh. I will let you figure out the Jesus angle yourself, since my deepest understanding of the love and forgiveness he personifies and the very personal nature of his "godness" is best captured in Phil Collins' Genesis number, which of course will be considered heresy by many, and for the free of the world, this is a link to a youtube video of the same song.

Of course I am kidding, Haven't known better ever. However, the two threads of this post are way too tangentiality-prone to permit stillness. One, Christ and his forty days, and Abba and his forty years. A lot of people have found Abba only after Mamma Mia got made, but that is just me being nasty. Sorry, all the 23 of you!

My April was interesting this year. I got to learn how to walk. I learned how to borrow cars. I helped change a crane tire that was like 10 feet tall. I studied tea and wines and a lot of other stuff that nobody would be better off knowing about. I also studied tempera and oil, charcoal and thinners. I learned a little of Islam, and a lot about peace. I also decided to stop working. I had fooled myself into believing a few years back that I enjoyed my job so much that it "warnt" work no more. But hell, woke up one morning late November last year, and said, no way am I doing this any more. Haven't taken a better decision than this one yet. What have you been learning, young member of civil society, in your April 2011?

Kosen Rufu Now! 2011

2011-03-15T19:04:00.001-07:00

My Holly, my kangeroo-coo,

I write as we relive the horror that trying to harness nuclear power without thinking about it enough (and praying about it enough and harnessing the self, our desires and greed, our prudence and wisdom before faith, only following which one can try harnessing anything else), can lead to as the globe realizes the extent of loss caused by March 11. I thought I could ask you to re-read an older post, the story of joey and auguste, something to take our mind away from what is happening, if only for a while. Visit http://goo.gl/TH89I

Do write in.

Be My Valentine!!

2011-02-14T01:46:00.000-08:00

In the heyday of the Roman Empire, the Lupercian Festival was held every February to honor the god of fertility. It was a passionate month in which young men would choose their marriage mates. The Emperor Claudius, fearing men would abandon their military duty to pursue their passions, outlawed marriage.

The Catholic Bishop Valentine, who had untapped passions of his own, began to secretly marry young couples in love. Claudius arrested him and sentenced him to be beheaded. While in prison, Valentine fell in love with the jailer’s daughter. On the day of his execution, he wrote her one last note and signed it: “from your Valentine.” He literally lost his head over love.

You don’t have to lose your head for love. But you do need to find your passion. I’m not referring to that kind of passion. You need to discover your passion for life, for yourself, for the world around you.

Of course, I didn't write that, a friend did. You can read the rest of his post here. But till then, be my valentine, just like I am yours, and rock on!!

The Wizard of Menlo Park

2011-02-10T20:12:00.005-08:00

I have had a few superhero kind of people in my life all through, like gods or knights, ravana and miles davis kind of stuff, and if I look at my real early years, maybe 7 to 12, one of the people whose life and work I dreamt of being half able to emulate was Edison.

Thomas Alva Edison is the man who invented the stock ticker, the electronic voting machine, the car battery, electricity and the use of electrical power, recorded music and the motion pictures among a host (2000ish) of other things.

Almost all of his life reads like a story, but his getting his first job and going on to understand and bring about a revolution in telecommunications is a classic one. Google it.

After his first landmark creation, the phonograph or methods of accurately and completely recording and reproducing sound or music, he went on to walk on down the hall.

He “invented” the electric light bulb, building on the work of many others who were trying to do the same thing, but outsmarting them in the three challenge areas of material, vacuum creation, and delivery of power (this was before you could plug into the wall to turn something on) the last of which he solved by using a higher resistance making it easier to draw power from source, something all others had not thought of, since their focus was on the product itself.

These were exciting times, everybody was doing something, be it something as herculean as crossing the seas from Europe to America, or giving birth to dots and dashes. Jazz hung like thick smoke at the ports and at railroad construction sites. The alpha male from the heartlands of the savannah was tasting french food cooked in Louisiana moonshine. The spirits, benign and vampirish, of New Orleans danced with those of native Indians and sad slavegirls, and created multicultural ghosts that Anne Rice would make a living off many years later.

Along with the pathbreaking work of closer bodhisattvas like Satyen Bose (an example only, I am much closer to other spirits from other fields than I am to stats and maths) who opened the doors of particle physics and particle statistics along with Einstein, the life and work of Edison set an example of what can be accomlished by application of the mind to solve and rise above problems and limitations. Happy Birthday, Menlowiz!

How does one take care?

2011-02-05T03:55:00.001-08:00

When you are on the internet like you are now, you must take care, like you must take care anywhere else.

Do check out this quick quiz on what you should already be knowing. Thanks to Tipukaka for the link.

http://www.bbc.co.uk/cbbc/help/web/besmart.shtml

And this is an update a couple of days later, since we were able to find some other really good places to learn more about internet safety and personal security.

http://www.webwisekids.org/index.asp?page=Katie_teens

http://www.ftc.gov/bcp/edu/microsites/idtheft/video/avoid-identity-theft-video.html

This one is great fun for adults: http://dsc.discovery.com/convergence/koppel/interactive/

interactive.html

http://www.bbc.co.uk/cbbc/help/web/besmart.shtml

STUDENTS’ PARTICIPATION IN iNET conference

http://www.cybertext.net.au/student10_inet_oct/studentPerspectives.html

Hills and Valleys (Letters to Parth - 8)

2011-02-03T23:23:00.001-08:00

Dear kryptonite, all of my devils, my starshine!

I know that you will learn and are learning about things quickly and not get hurt or stung or bruised or burnt, but if you do get burnt, build a burn unit, if you experience need, give. However, this time I thought about mountains. I last sat to write to you in November. And have been climbing mountains ever since. Now it looks like I am somewhere halfway up maybe.

Your Dadu and Thammi spent the best years of their lives in Darjeeling. When Dadu had his bypass in 2006, he was ruled out for heights and was generally asked to be careful. Darjeeling is an average of about 7000 feet. Thammi too has had a terrible track record of being unable to travel. But the devil that she is, and the wheels that she got for feet when she was a kid like you, keeps her rolling, puking, coughing, sweating, getting the mountain belly and short of breath, but you try and get her to agree to sit down!!! I wrote this song!!

Madan Tamang died for a reason. Everything has a reason, it is just that we don't always get a preview or even a view of it till his designs are all laid forth. Don't miss the butterfly on Thammi's shoulder. You can click on the pic to see it larger.

They wrote this song. It is just that I am a poor singer.

Busy getting ready to be able to meet you, much as I have been busy getting ready these last so many days, weeks, months and years, some will say and scoff, but we will get by. This time it feels so good that its got to be illegal. Spent some time at the end of the year traveling with dadu and thammi and then spending the year end with mia and tipu and chandreyee. Came back to a lot of work, and fell ill. Have gotten better, and what more, have started doing things to get a grip on other things too. The Times of India really rocked some evenings. And some mornings. And some afternoons and late afternoons too. You and I are lucky to have been together all through in more senses than one!! We will look back and smile at this day some day.

Was able to send you Asterix the Gaul, a t-shirt with an older picture of you on it, and something to play with that Mona sent. Mona is Grainne didi’s mom, an old witch. She loves you too. Thammi’s kurta set is with me cuz you have kind of grown too big for it, I hear.

Trust you enjoyed this winter like no winter ever before. Lion cub, never forget that the winter that tests one’s resilience is the very same winter that is the time to forage and to mend walls. I was pretty excited that you still don’t write well enough to get into school! I cannot tell you how thrilled I am and how proud I am of whatever else you do, skate, bike, shriek, fife, pee, whatever!! I have a feeling that if I were to try and get into any of the schools now, my writing would probably be my Waterloo. Life is the best teacher about valleys.

Our cooking showed up a couple of times over at Zaiqa. First here and then here.

Do remember and stay cool in the months ahead, not just from the fun of being together in “the real world” but also from the heat, as we enter a period of our planet’s lifetime and our civilization’s lifetime when being hyper about things will be the most cherished value as we scramble to solve climate change and geopolitical resource ownership changes. I figure a 20-25% bargain on branded oral rehydration preps is a good idea. Buy half a truckload for the summer, you might even get 30% off. You can read my post on hydration in my earlier letters.

Thammi and Dadu, Mia and her oldies, and both of us are eagerly waiting to be with both of you in the flesh. More about mountains then.

Much love as always,

Subho

Happy New Year!

2011-01-01T19:11:00.000-08:00

the year starts with one one one one. have a great one, gumdrop!!

november 18, 2010

2010-11-19T05:45:00.000-08:00

Got real excited that we would be seeing each other real soon, and then had to wait again.

I have a silly horoscope app that is pretty accurate and this is what it said on the morning of November 18, 2010.

You may be unwilling to seek common ground with a friend or partner today, even if it has the potential to make your life simpler. However, you aren't interested in compromising away your integrity. And although it appears that the other person is being difficult, it may be you who is being more stubborn at this time. Keep in mind that the outcome of a disagreement now is not as important as it seems. The health of a relationship is what ultimately matters most.

I am proud of all of us that we were able to articulate to the universe what we wanted, and be gracious about what the universe wanted of us too.

The Light of Festivals

2010-11-03T21:29:00.001-07:00

Time to squeeze in some crackers and some fireworks, as we move from Id to Christmas, with Dussehra and Thanksgiving rubbing shoulders with Laxmi puja and Dhan Teras.

The way the fumes from the fireworks cleanse the air for winter, the light from it too shall shine into our lives like the sun. Drop in and we will light the diya together.

What's that you're wearing?

2010-10-29T21:07:00.001-07:00

In India, as of 2010, a small percentage of even the urban population dress up like they were going to be on Michael Jackson's Thriller remake for Halloween, but a good number do too. And it is not like every one needs to come in star wars slave costumes either. Flavors change from year to year and it is fun to get ready for.

You can dress me up as a robber, but I won't be in disguise. Only love is a robber, and he lives within your eyes, ooh ee ooh.

You can dress me up as a sailor but I'll never run to sea. As long as your love is available to me, what do I do with a sea of blue. Ooh ee ooh.

You can dress me up as a soldier, but I wouldn't know what for. I was the one who told you he loved you, don't want to go to another war. No, no, no.

Paul McCartney, Dress Me Up As A Robber from Tug Of War. (released 1982, work started on it 1980)

Today the pumpkin patch, tomorrow the turkey!!

Trick-or-treating is a customary celebration for children on Halloween. Children go in costume from house to house, asking for treats such as candy or sometimes money, with the question, "Trick or treat?" The word "trick" refers to a (mostly idle) "threat" to perform mischief on the homeowners or their property if no treat is given. In some parts of Scotland children still go guising. In this custom the child performs some sort of trick, i.e. sings a song or tells a ghost story, to earn their treats.

I usually end up watching reruns of my childhood horror classics if there are any good ones on tv. Trash like Moustapha Akkad or the Jason series.

Don McLean's Vincent

2010-10-27T00:20:00.001-07:00

A bitter/sweet romance of Vincent Van Gogh with his life painted by Don McLean and his acoustic guitar. Released in October 1971, Vincent is a stanza out of the poetic album (American Pie). From the introductory track (American Pie) that swoops you over with the jive-friendly beat and an easy strumming guitar , the album simmers down to an embracing silence with a heartfelt emotion making its way out of the shell. The smooth varnish of Don’s vocals follows the shy notes played on his mystic treasure. The song journeys through the different shades of Van Gogh’s painted life. From his paintings to his traumas, from the people around him to his state of disbelief.

This is a must hear song, and the lines above are from sundry anna over at not just junk by the bay and his excellent writing on mumbai music. The Vincent post is here.

The Dazu Rock Carvings

2010-10-20T04:32:00.000-07:00

The Dazu Rock Carvings, located in the southeast portion of the Sichuan Basin in China, is a stunning example of grotto art dating back to the 7th century. Containing more than 50,000 statues and over 100,000 other figures, it is one of the most fabulous examples of archaeological treasure listed as a World Heritage Site, and beautifully illustrate the daily life of 9th to 13th century China.

Read More about The Dazu Rock Carvings

Nichiren Daishonin

2010-10-12T18:12:00.001-07:00

Nichiren Daishonin (February 16, 1222 – October 13, 1282) with his life and work, established the simple truth that access to the means of attaining enlightenment was public domain and needed no priests or organization or commission agents.

Through his early years, he studied the Buddhist commentaries available to him, and in the face of hostility to his disagreements with the prevailing schools of buddhism in the 13th century, he established what we now know as Nichiren buddhism, spearheaded globally today by the SGI with about 20 million practitioners.

While commenting at length on the correct teachings of Shakyamuni Buddha as contained in the Lotus Sutra, he focused on Buddhahood not only being accessible but contained by default within all living beings. My having been able to encounter his writing in this lifetime is the greatest benefit I can ever imagine receiving. I trust you will find out more about him, a lot of my references to him are scattered in my writing.

Omar Mukhtar: The Lion of The Desert

2010-10-10T21:14:00.000-07:00

Moustapha Akkad was working on his next big project, The Lion of the Desert when he teamed up with director John Carpenter in 1977 to produce Halloween, a low budget babysitter meets slasher film with a difference, a tip of the hat to Alfred Hitchcock’s Psycho (including Jamie Lee Curtis, daughter of Janet Leigh who starred in Psycho). No one could have imagined the success that this film would have at the box office. The franchise generated seven sequels, none of them notable for artistic excellence or social relevance, but all of them making money.

While often dismissed as inconsequential pandering to teenage pop sensibilities, the Halloween series does address some basic issues about interpretation of morality and gender politics.

Omar Mukhtar: The Lion of the Desert was released in 1981. This film will remain one that made a major impression on me as a teenager whose role models were from the 60s and who had to fit into the senseless consumerism of the 80s and 90s. Read more about the film by clicking here.