Shame...

Outrage. Disgrace. Shame!
Shame on the MIM and a louder, stronger shout-out to the media to perhaps feel some of that shame themselves for once again giving the proceedings a tainted religious hue. [I will explain. This is a long, bilious post.]

Yesterday's nauseating events at the Press Club of Hyderabad during the release of Taslima Nasrin's works in Telugu [who cares what, really] did two things.
One, it reiterated to the whole world that, "Look here, this is what we were saying all along. These Muslims are unbelievable. They really are taking things too far."
Two, it played right into the hands of a constantly-waiting, uneducated media, frothing at the mouth for more dirt on a faith known as Islam. All because a handful of very deluded, unlearned men, ranting and raving like so many Nazi Skinheads or Bajrang Dal activists, claimed their incontrollable outrage in the name of all Muslims. And the ravenous media lapped it up, using allllll the cliches and stereotypes one now expects when anything Islam-bash-worthy happens. *makes violent retching noise*

The facts:
1. Taslima Nasrin was invited to release the translations of her works in Hyderabad.
2. She did so.
3. There was no outrageous attack on Islam, no inflammatory speech and no reading of any derogatory material from her books [if indeed her books have such content].
4. After the event wound to a close, some men[led by our well-chosen, popularly elected, esteemed MLAs] broke into the venue and started their shameful, uncouth, violent histrionics. To wit, a group of full-grown men went berserk and started throwing various items- bouquets, flower pots, even chairs were attempted- at a defenseless Taslima and an oldish man who was visibly hurt during the hurly-burly, bravely standing shield between the deranged macho men and their intended victim. There was no incitement, there was nothing that could have sparked the Fire of Fury in the attackers.
5. Live footage of the attack is really embarrassing to watch - poor, sulky Taslima and poor, brave old man.
6. The mental mob then lay down its credentials: they represented "all of the 20 crore Muslims in India" according to an MP of the Majlis-e-Ittehadul Muslimeen (MIM), Asaduddin Owaisi, an abomination I saw for the first time yesterday. [Enjoy your moment in the limelight, you horrific blight to humanity.]
7. This self-same Owaisi was then seen on all news channels staunchly defending and praising the attackers, and once more *cringe*cringe*cringe* bringing in 'Islam' and 'Muslims' into all of the ugliness.

The Outrage and Opinion:
To Owaisi: You b@##$%#! Isn't it enough the whole world is having a ball at the expense of our religion already? Must you paint your perversions with the brush of Islam? No, you do not represent us, the 20 crore Muslims in India. No, it doesn't make a difference that Taslima Nasrin is not Indian, that she's in exile, that you feel she's a disgrace to Islam because she doesn't like following it, that she writes about things that are hard for you to stomach. She might have been a Puerto Rican nun for all we care - the fact remains that this was a lady whom you let loose on, unprovoked and in the most abominable manner. And then you justify your actions under the banner of Islam. Aaarrrggghhhhhh.

To the media: Have a care, journos. A little homework never harmed anyone, si? Here are some basic goof-ups and incorrect stereotyping that you've perfected to an art.
Lesson 1: Fatwa= opinion [NOT as is widely and popularly accepted, 'death sentence'].
Lesson 2: Islam = NOT a religion that preaches terror/violence. Root word 'Salaam' viz. 'peace' [as in Salaam alaikum]. Even if one did not give you the meaning of the Arabic root, one could hope that a basic respect be given to all world religions and it be quite understood that no faith preaches violence, killing, atrocity or wrong-doing. Why must you then repeatedly and wrongly use terms like Islamists/Islamic fundamentalists/Jihadis/mullahs/ Muslim extremists etc?
Lesson 3: Jehad/Jihad = To strive/struggle in the cause of God. It does not mean 'Holy War' or 'justified killing'. Don't use it alllll the time.
Lesson 4: Jehadis and terrorists are not interchangeable terms, thank you. If I strive to overcome some evil in myself, say trying to stop lying, I am a jehadi. Ergo, jehadi is not equal to terrorist. Simple, ja?
Lesson 5: Haraam= Absolutely, totally not allowed. Drinking alcohol is haraam. Suicide is haraam. Killing the blameless aged, women, children or any innocent person is haraam. Make of 9/11 and every other incident we hear of in Iraq nowadays what you will, those men can't claim to be Muslims. [My opinion, remember.]
Lesson 6: Muslims all over the world [I'm talking educated, civilized, real Muslims who have some knowledge of the Qur'an and Sunnah- not brainwashed illiterates, paid part-timers and chest-beating frenzied men who don't know better] hate what is happening to the name of Islam today. The media has never ever shown this overwhelming point of view. What with your minute-by-minute opinion polls, your wide-ranging documentaries, your impassioned lambasting of the horrors of terrorism, how come it never ever comes across that you BELIEVE that Muslims globally abhor the actions of terrorists, suicide bombers, spies, smugglers, underworld dons and the whole smorgasbord of evil that is now irrevocably connected with Islam? We don't like it either, get it? The few hundreds (or thousands) committing atrocities must never be assumed to be representative of the whole. How about you convey that repeatedly?

Another point:
Noted Muslim celebrities in India gave sound bytes yesterday (at least) expressing their disgust: Javed Akhtar [brilliant as always], Shabana Azmi [ho hum], Nafisa Ali. Ask me, a well-known scholar, a qualified mufti would be a more suitable mouthpiece for expressing Muslim outrage than fillum-ishtaars or Page 3 personalities , who, let's face it, aren't very strong in practice.
Unfortunately, we never see the established Islamic authorities/the educated ullema speak up against such outrages. This is a worm that has eaten across all the Muslim/Arab world. Be it Palestine, Afghanistan, Iraq, terrorism, the governments of all Muslim nations continue to sit mum and twiddle their thumbs, doing nothing. PATHETIC.

Some background to the whole brouhaha:
1. Ms. Nasrin is in India, exiled from her homeland Bangladesh on account of some old men feeling strongly that her book, Lajja, was insulting to Islam, Muslims, the Prophet (Peace be upon him) and thereafter issuing fatwas (Remember! 'Opinion'), death threats and pronouncements in the name of an aggrieved religion.
2. Lajja is none of the above. I have read, or rather, tried reading it. It was quite a pain to get through even the first few chapters and is one of the very few books I have left unfinished. Not because I was offended by the content but because I was bored to tears by it. According to me it was not a good book simply because in very long, excruciating portions it read more like a report on damages caused during the Bangla riots, and the mention of random names and unknown places for pages together failed to grip me. There was an attempted storyline in there somewhere but I lost the threads of that amid all the name-dropping.
3. I feel very strongly that the people who issued the fatwa haven't actually read the substandard book.
4. The book doesn't have anything anti-Islamic in it per se, it is just an account of the maltreatment of the minority Hindu population in Bangladesh during the riots that ensued post the destruction of the Babri Masjid in India [Whole new can of worms. I shan't even go there]. It so happened that the tormentors were the majority Bangla Muslim populace. What is so unbelievable about that?
5. As in all riot scenarios, the weak are always victimised, abused and in general, teated in such a way that 'majority' and 'minority' have no meaning anymore, the only thing that matters to anyone who can see is 'humanity'. Or rather, the lack of it.
6. Nasrin's book just put together many instances where people went rampaging, killing, raping in the name of their religion. Wronging others. Again in the name of their religion. These malefactors happened to be so-called Muslims. In the same way that when the Gujarat riots happened, the aggressors happened to be Hindus. And in the same way that the good old Serbian ethnic cleansers [I'm talking Bosnia] happened to be Orthodox Christians.
My point is that evil does not belong to any faith or religion. Tyrants, terrorists, reprobate persons cannot lay claim to any faith in the midst of their heinous actions.


Oh, look at me, I'm as bloody boring as Taslima's book. Enough. I am done.

Oh, come on, boys. Keep it clean.

Sania-watch continues

Well done again, Miss Mirza. Here!

Dear Daddy

Happy birthday to you.

Couldn't make it last time....

...but I want to try again.
Unsuccessful first attempt at scaling hidden peak. Ve shal go vance more.

Have fun, Shobs...

Dear Shobie
We're missing you aldreddy. *Huggs*
Have much fun in Bombay, doll. Meet exciting people [fillum stars] and don't snub them, throw yourself at Akshay Kumar [remember, he takes the trouble to wax himself. Ouch.] and don't forget to make a weekend trip to Pune and meet Sanju Baba.

Will call often and, as per routine, please don't pick up on the first attempt. I shall do the same at my end. Henji.

PS: (Enjoyed like anything at Take 5, especially when you wet yourself. Your camera smile is inspiring. I shall practise in front of my mirror everyday.)



To the common man: Shobhie is the nut in the picture above [extreme left with big red bag]. She left us, Bereft in Bangalore, and headed to Bombay on the fateful morning 6th of August, 2007. Moday morning blues like yenything.
She's a darling and we hope she has a mad, mad time and is part of more interesting stories in the near future.

Beyond Compare

Sunday, August 5, 2007: Gayatri Vihar, Palace Grouds, Bangalore hosts a live concert- "Beyond Boundaries" - with ghazal meastros Ustad Ghulam Ali and Padmabhushan Jagjit Singh. I was there [wooohooo!] and enjoyed a lovely evening with the two greats. One is obviously of a higher caliber than the other, as Jagjit himself admits, and in this pleasant understanding of what's what, the music flowed.

The show was supposed to kick off at 6 pm, and audience memebers were requested to dress formally. So obviously a huge chunk of Bangaloreans traipsed in well after 1845 hrs, dressed in cargos, dirty jeans, scuffed sneakers, three-fourths and other horrors.
The seating arrangements were godawful- the venue was basically a big shamiana with rows and rows of plastic chairs. For our tickets worth Rs. 600/-, we were hoping to be in a nice enough place to be able to comfortably view the performance but unfortunately we were quite ways behind and managed to NOT see any of the stage. We had to make do with the big-screen projectors. This being a ghazal concert, what was important was that the sound quality be good and thank the Lord, it was. Great audio throughout the show.
(Except when the caterers just outside the shamiana took to collectively rattling their cutlery, or when the rumbling from the nearby Freedom Jam made itself heard. At which point Ghulam Ali paused mid-song to say, "Iss aafat ko guzarne do.")

At 7 pm, Jagjit Singh took the stage and we had a lovely two hours' worth of his most popular numbers. He took us through the best of his repertoire: Mein nashe main hoon, Yeh daulat bhi le lo, Baat niklegi toh phir, Kiskaa chehraa, Kal chaudvin ki raat thi and Sarakti jaaye hai among others.
The audience was lapping it up, singing along with Baritone Jagjit in most places. He threw in a few pleasant variations on some lines but for the most part stuck to the script and the crowd had a fun time feeling full of itself thinking, "We know our ghazals so well."

Jagit Singh wound up around 9 pm and made way for the fabulous Ustad Ghulam Ali. There was a touching moment or two on stage when the dear old men started hugging each other, smiling and pulling one another's cheeks like so many 4-year-old kindergarten girls. Pleasantries done with, Ustadji took the stage.

And then........ *drumroll*

For the next two hours, we sampled the brilliance that is Ustad Ghulam Ali. He dazzled the remaining audience and how! Ghulam Ali took on each new piece as a separate work of love, slowly guiding the audience, explaining the difference between a ghazal and a nazm, giving a short, pleasant preamble to each number, giving due credit to the poets, and, when in the song itself, explaining the Urdu shaaiyiri to the crowd as needed.
The gorgeous rolling deepness of Ustad's voice, his ease with the language, his genuine love for the form were all evident during his performance. The audience were loving the poetry, of a much higher quality than Jagjit's engaging but simple lyrics. Each sher was followed by a resounding cheer after the spilt-second it took them to understand what had just passed. Unlike Jagjit Singh, Ghulam Ali gave us a variety of ghazals not many in the crowd had heard before. It was right up the alley for those of us with a genuine love [if not understanding] of classical music and shaayiri, a guided tour with arguably one of the best ghazal singers in the world. I had goosies for a good part of his performance, along with a silly smile and much contentment at the crowd's pleasure.

Unfortunately, all of the audience was not deserving. As with all big gatherings, there has to be an Embarrassing Group. I had had a nasty sinking feeling at the beginning of the show itself when I saw the very obviously cavalier, non-serious set of people coming in for the show. And the foreboding came true during the performance.
After Jagjit Singh finished his segment, a lot of our overfriendly, noisy, culturally-deficient Bangalorean friends left since the popular hit ghazals they were familiar with were done. Good riddance. Unfortunately a lot of annoying, brash items stayed behind, talking loudly to each other during songs, walking up and down the aisles, taking calls on their cell-phones [good grief] and other indecorous behavour.
If this wasn't bad enough,we had unbelievable audience members somewhere in the very front [and therefore the freebie/ uber-rich ticketholders] repeatedly disturbing Ghulam Ali during his performance. He actually had to stop in the middle of his songs and ask them to stop goading, taking videos, talking/whistling, clapping out of turn etc. Also, as if this was a college band performing cover versions at a cafe somewhere, some freak kept on shouting his farmaaishes to Ghulam Ali. "Oh, God, do you realise who is up on stage, you twit?" The cringe-factor went very high for me, personally. I wanted to tear those people from their places and boot them into the rain outside. What was more infuriating was that none of the organisers stepped in to take preventive action. Terrible. I can only apologise to the maestro for the (mis)behaviour of the hooligans left behind to mess up the evening.

Ustadji took in all this unpleasantness in his wonderful stride ["Yeh toh inke pyaar ki daleel bataati hain"], kept the audience entertained with jokes and anecdotes and wound up his performance with his very famous numbers Hungama hai kyun barpaa, and Chupke chupke raat din. The 11 pm axe was hanging around everyone's necks or he might have carried on for a while more. Unfortunately, things had to come to a close and they did wit a sweet farewell from Ustad saheb.
At around 11pm I made my way out, for the most part a very happy girl, but also, with slightly murderous thoughts directed towards the Embarrassments.

What's going on, boys?

Another great run for McLaren at Hungary, but as usual, a cloud came along to spoil the silver lining's party. No Constructor Points for Team McLaren on account of some shady business during the Qualifying. Bleehhhhhh. Well done, Lewis. Alonso.... Promise us more drama at Turkey?
Before the whole world and its uncle jumps in to fling mud at Alonso, though, have a look here.
Look like there MIGHT POSSIBLY BE another side to the story. Mayhap young Lewis was a little bit to blame himself? This is not to say that Alonso doesn't have a habit of getting headlined in the most awful stories. One must admit, the guy has a knack.
In any case, I adore both drivers though I have no idea how they still manage to work around each other. Slight awkwardness at the office, what?
Great run by Raikkonen as well, but overtaking was always going to be next to impossible on this circuit. [Thought to self: Why, oh WHY did he switch to Ferrari?]

Well done, Sania.

Sania Mirza is on a roll. After an iffy performance at Wimbledon [just back from injury etc], she's moving up and how. She's the fittest she's ever been and if she would only work on that serve of hers plus reign in on the unforceds a bit, she's going to get nicely dangerous.
Well done at Stanford and San Diego, Sania. Seed-toppling is very nice [for us].
Have a personal soft spot for Mirza because her match at the Bangalore Open [where she won the doubles finals, 2006] is the only tennis match I've watched in person. Also, I think she's a smarty-pants. I'm going to keep track of this kid.

Bonzo has a new friend

His name is Party Pooh. He's a nice guy to have around simply because no matter what you do to Pooh [like take his head in your teeth and shred it to bits], he'll always smile stupidly back.
Bonz takes turn loving and hating him. I caught him here at a particularly weak, mushy moment when he was just nodding off and I naughtily Placed Pooh under his "Protective Paw." [Transliteration like yenything.]
My plan is, when Bonz grows up and starts having friends over for beer and poker, I'll pull out these incriminating snaps and ruin his social life. Mooooaaahahahhahaaaahaaaaaaaa.....
Click header for more pics.

Hunkal Trek pics here!

Hunkal Trek, weekend of July 27-29th

Spent a fantastic weekend in the Western Ghats near Chikmaglur at a gorgeous private estate in Thogarihunkal, called The Hunkal Woods. Trek weekend organized by Kaushik Bajibab of Wishbone Interactive, and featuring Gerry Martin. Other star cast comprised of a Xavier and a Vivek Sundaram.
Met some really nice people, walked a lot of kms, used muscles that had been inactive for some time and returned with very nice memories and photo-pictures.
Highly recommend Hunkal Woods as the place to stay. Very out of the way, excellent service and perfect stay comfort. Run by a very young Nandan Gowda for the most part.

Catharsis

And so it unfolds… Same old story, different people. Everywhere I turn nowadays, I get a different version of the same old, same old.

Girl – 1 no.s.

Well educated, good job in hand, financially independent, strong sense of space, great parental support and the common domestic situation nowadays where a girl is allowed to think freely for herself, have a say in matters, be moody, be crazy, be normal, and in general be as bull-headed as all the previous generations’ overbearing paterfamilias if she so feels like it.

Cut to Boy - 1 no.s

Modern day Indian male, “I am so progressive”, is friends with as many girls as boys, (prefers hanging out with the slimmer, prettier, more fun girls but pretty bearable otherwise). Also well-educated, having job, not necessarily financially independent, but so what, beta hai na? Anywho.

Girl meets boy, they fall in like, they fall in love, things are hunky-dory for a couple of years, they’re young, no need to think about anything serious just yet, just have a lot of fun and enjoy time with each other etc etc. Boy is extremely nice to girl all along, seems smitten as hell, girl is smitten of course, girl’s friends begin to approve of this ‘gem of a boy’, girl’s family is in the loop because really, the girl is completely comfortable with her choice of relationship, nothing shady about it at all.

A few years later, girl starts wondering ‘where are we headed’ [yes, please note: the girl has to start thinking this]. Girl brings it up with boy because there is no possible reason why he should have even thought about it. I mean, good grief.
And this is where the disturbing twist in the tale begins.

I mean, after years of friendship and adoration and through-thick-and-thins and what have you, is it really unfathomable for a boy to see the light and take it to the next step with the one he professes to [as he repeatedly does] love?

Boy dilly-dallies for a while, then a while longer, then forever it seems. What is the problem? Girls’ parents [who have more often than not nowadays] a very sensible, open and mature relationship with their girl-child, talk to her freely about this. Girl has a great support group in friends, family, family friends. If not parents [okay, it’s been known to happen], there are a lot of other people the girl can have a heart-to-heart with.

Except, disturbingly, the boy. Se can’t get through to him on this.

Boy has become a little aloof, doesn’t meet up as much or as readily, they don’t go out on cute romantic dates anymore, only in big noisy groups, he doesn’t talk about it too much, pretends to carry on just as they have been all these years except for the tiny niggling fact that it has bee all these years ad really, pull up your damn socks now!

Girl starts feeling a little not-so-great. Everyone thinks they are as rock-steady as ay couple can be, everyone constantly beams upon this ideal twosome, this made-for-each-other duo, but slowly everyone also starts wondering [like the girl did long ago], what next?

Girl starts feeling a bit ill-treated. So she brings it up with daft boy again. Boy has turned into blockhead with no realization of the decent thing to do, and possibly, a distinct lack of balls. Strain enters into formerly perfect relationship. Girl would tell boy anything and everything earlier; he was her best friend after all. Not so anymore, because now when girl starts talking about the one thing that really is bothering her, it is to be construed as nagging by the poor victimized boy.

God damn.

In the meanwhile, girl’s other good girlfriend is going through similar shit, one step further in fact. Boy had agreed to marry girlfriend, they were engaged, they had a beautiful understanding of how they would live their new life together, until, as usual, the boy’s balls seemed to perceptibly shrink and then cease to exist because of gargoylish pressures from materfamilias.

Boy turns into A-Grade wimp, refuting “strong-companion” tag and taking on the new [and yet age-old] moniker of “Mama’s boy.” Girlfriend becomes secondary, mother’s unreasonable and draconian needs come first. And all this after boy-girl had mutually agreed to live their future life a certain independent, dignified way. Boy-wimp suddenly is quoting such text as “I only agreed because of you…” and “I’m sure other girls would have no problem with my Ma” etc, cringe puke.

Well, darling, if other girls is what you were aiming for, if other mousy, non-thinking, compromising, Hindi-movie-sati-saavitri, saree-clad, demure, eyes-downcast, mindless girls is what your dream was, then why the #$$@ did you spend all these years misleading your best friend- a beautiful, modern, independent, strong-willed, intelligent, jeans-clad woman of the 21^st century? I mean, if you wanted a glorified housemaid who could carry off a silk saree with élan, bending down with ease to scrape the feet of all the elders in your family, adhere to your glorious patriarchal notion of a good wife and respectable daughter-in-law, why the hell did you pretend to be a “progressive, forward-thinking” git with 2 cents’ worth of sense in him?

Here’s the problem. The young urban Indian woman has come of age. Her eyes are wide open, she has a beautiful head on her shoulders, she knows who she is and more importantly, she knows what she wants. There is no earthly reason for her to compromise on this, especially to unreasonable demands. Which is not to say she won’t bend over backwards if she feels it’s worth doing. That’s because young Indian woman is sensible, compassionate and strong.

This puts young urban Indian man in a quandary of sorts. He thinks he is modern, liberal-minded and a staunch supporter of feminism. All this is well and good until he is actually in the hotspot himself and then the veneer fades a bit. Young NRI in America decides that he in fact wants to marry a nice, homely Indian girl from back in India. Young urban Indian man decides he’s had a lot of fun with his girlfriend(s), and now it’s time to find ‘wife-material’. Mama will definitely have some ideas. Non-conformity is out of the question. You will bow to my traditions, my cultural expectations, my schedule, my rules. It’s all right to have been this way so far, now that you want to be my wife, fall in line. Ye gods.

Dave Matthews was on to a good thing there years ago:

“Why are you different?

Why are you that way?

If you don’t fall in line

We’ll lock you away…”

So, like I was saying, this sort of thing is happening too often and to too many people I know for it to be a one-off case. My girlfriends and I have talked this over and over. [Yes, one of those bitter, bile-ridden girl-talks where we diss men and their lot with an earnestness that has to be seen to be believed.]

We’ve hit upon a few theories as to the current state of affairs [urban p.o.v.]:

1. Women rule. This is not chest-beating bravado [that’s what men do.] This is fact.
2. Women now know they rule, and so do men, and that’s what’s causing all the trouble.
3. Women are starting to lose patience with can’t-get-their-act-together male forms.
4. Women have a great support system and like-minded girlfriends to hang out with and feel better about themselves and everything.
5. Women very often meet up to chat with said like-minded girlfriends and release pent-up anger, vitriol etc and in so doing have realized that life is perfectly wonderful without the added troubles of nurturing a boy-toy for years and then finding out he’s a wimp anyway.
6. Women are kicked as hell about adoption getting easier. If there was one thing that was bothering us about lack-of-suitable-boys, it was the fact that we’d have to miss out on motherhood. Not any more. Ha ha!
7. Women are definitely on to a good thing here.
8. Women-friends who have totally lost hope that any suitables will ever exist again, will probably decide to move in together in a few years, raise their adopted children and run neat, organized but still very mad, fun households together. [And everyone will be cleaning up after themselves. Bonus!]
9. The next-gen of kids that will be the outcome of growing up in such mad happiness will hopefully have got their bearings right and things will look up for the next lot of young Indian women.
10. Which is not so say that the next-gen of young Indian men won’t be thanking their lucky stars it happened like this! They’ll love us, their brilliant mothers to bits. And we won’t pull a draconian on them.

Over and out.

Happy Birthday, Boo!

16th July, per annum. :)

One fine Sunday afternoon

Ozz and Suhail loafing in the pool at Guestline Resorts after the fun and games. It was a beautiful day even though I barely lost to Ozz at tennis by one close game. Dyammit. I shall blame my blisters.

Also celebrating their 27th....

Ma's elder sister and her hubby. Ma and Khala got married the same day. They had their first child 10 days apart. [I know, it's almost creepy.]

Happy 27th Anniversary, folks!

Excellent work, parentals. Love you much.

Foucault's gone. Walkabout. That's all.

Post Partum: post parts, um....

"Look, Ma! No balls!"
These are our little babies, after Doc Pawan Kumar [5-ishtaar rating] took care of their privates. June 4th, it was. And funny Doc said, grinning, [to lighten the atmosphere]: "I'm sorry. They'll never be fathers now."

The boys are just dandy now. And they have taken to the outdoors like their naughty mother. I only hope they realise they should poop and otherwise expunge outside, and not come running for the litter box when they feel the urge. Silly cats.

Cheeni Kum.....

What a superb! Tabu, you have outdone yourself. It saddens me to see you persisting with C-grade movies starring a screaming, wigged Sunny Deol [whom I used to have the massivest crush on circa Betaab.] Ugh.

For a louwwwly review of this movie, read louwwly Suma's blog, here: http://blog.360.yahoo.com/sumantics273