Of rains and a rumor

Chennai was rising from what seemed for some days to be its watery grave.  A semblance of normalcy was returning to Chennai.  People were getting back to their usual schedules, except for the school kids.  Their unexpected vacation  extended for a few more days and they were busy eating their parent's heads.  The previous week had been harrowing for almost everyone associated with Chennai.  Many houses had marooned, others did not have power and food.  The mobile revolution had come to a stand still due to the lack of power.  No one could reach across to anyone.  Only the news channel brought sensational reports from a water laden and dark city.  Other than these reports and an occasional message and call, family and friend in the deluged city were completely cut off from people outside.

I was one of the outside persons.  I had taken one of the last flights out of Chennai to Delhi.  The disastrous rain spell had started when I reached the airport.  The incoming flight could not land for sometime but a brief respite allowed the flight to land and take off with me inside.  I realized the terribleness of situation only when I reached the hotel in the evening.  I was in constant touch with my family in Chennai till the next afternoon.  After that Chennai became unreachable.  One or two messages or calls went through.  These calls and messages and the news channels gave us information about large scale flooding in the city.  Beyond that at most times I was in the dark about my family's status while they were in the dark all the time.  

I got through to my sister once and heard that my parent's house was flooded. But they were safe in her house.  I got through to a friend who was kind enough to visit our house.  She informed me that my family was safe with no instances of flooding in the area.  Late that night, I got a call from my wife and I spoke to her and my son for about an hour.  This trend continued for the next few days.  Things finally settled down at the end of the week.  

The airport and railway station were closed for the week and getting back to Chennai had become equivalent to attacking one of Chattrapati Shivaji's fort.  Since my family was safe, I did not feel the need to indulge in heroics to get home.  My two day trip to Delhi grew into a week long trip to different locations in North India. One such trip took me to Jammu.  How and what happened during that trip should be a part of another write-up (I guess).  The trip was just a day long and I returned by the Rajdhani express that night.  I had just finished my dinner and was sitting with my laptop when a message popped up in my Whatsapp.  The conversation that resulted out of this message went as follows.

SOMEONE: If any of your friends or relatives are living in Chennai ask them to leave Chennai immediately because in the next 72 hours very heavy rain is expected more than multiple level of the present rain. As per NASA Report this is not the ordinary rain. It's name is EL Nino cyclone. There is a chance for 250 cm rain. Chances are there nearly the entire Chennai may be submerged in water. Search in Google, you will understand. Somehow inform of your friends and relatives in Chennai.
Wipro announces t p. drop people to out of chennai city. Over 100 wipro buses starts tomorrow 7 am - 8.30am from Koyambedu bus stop. Please share this message to those stuck in chennai.....
Spread the news tomorrow 6 flights gonna take off from arakkonam air base. Flat rates of 1000 rs for any city in south India and 2000 for north India . Only hand baggage allowed
Air India flights to Hyderabad for Rs 1000 and Delhi For Rs 2000 only for emergency cases
Pls post this to diff.groups. Please read this.


HELPFUL CITIZEN (HC): No, this is a hoax , Someone has created this to create terror..
VICTIM1 (V1): Hopefully
VICTIM2 (V2): I'm sure that's a rumour. We'll be careful though. No worries
HC: Yes, I had looked it up about 4 hours back. It is a rumour
V2: This must be a rumour. But it won't hurt to be careful and stock up on essentials.
HC: Yes, BBC has also reported rains apparently..
V2: Shockingly, people have it in them to create panic to the extent of saying "leave the city" when it's such a vulnerable condition already
SMARTASS (SA): I quite like the Rs.1000 and Rs.2000 flat rate part. Seems to be dedicated to Chennai auto drivers.
HC: Haha..news websites are all like
VC2: Yeah. But we'll be careful. We seem to have got used to the routine now 😒
HC (vehemently): 'the message doing the rounds on WhatsApp is fake, NASA has published no such report'... 😂
SA: But this one was first seen a month back when the first spell happen. We should intimate NASA that their satellites are looking in the wrong direction
HC: Haha, NASA will be like 'whaaat!'
VC1: Or whatsap
SA: Hey NASA that is an auto not pluto.
HC: Ha ha. Tsunami scare happens every year I think
SA: Yeah every time the sea recedes
HC: Every year our exams used to get rescheduled because of Tsunami warnings..and the collector will also declare a holiday
SA: That was the Amma election time and not Tsunami Siddarth
HC: Amma election also of course.
SA: Tsunamma
HC: An epic washout that was..

The conversation ended there, I closed the laptop, pulled on the blanket and went to sleep.

sIn Now To Objectively Look at a progrEssively Rising nAtion - Creating issuEs

My grandmother is an ardent Congress supporter.  Her father had made his children promise that their families and they will always support Congress.  Her forceful personality ensured her pushing the adoration for Congress down her children's throat.  Though they did not have much have much regard for Congress, they did not bother to protest.  Soon the family grew and people from other families came into her small and secure family as in-laws. Unfortunately for my grandmother these newer entrants to the family did not have similar upbringing or political orientation.  My father’s political thoughts were formed during a period when many of the states started seeing the rise of political alternatives to the Congress.  These younger parties were spewing ideas that seemed progressive and inclusive compared to the Congress. The party had lost its sheen.  From my father's generation's point of view, Congress died with Gandhi and the cremation rituals were complete by the time the Nehru era ended.  My father's political thoughts were shaped on two concepts, namely, "Indira Congress is not India Congress" and "If you see a snake and a congress man, don't kill the snake first.  The snake attacks you only if you disturb it".  I grew up seeing these two generation and ideas in conflict.

This conflict has an effect on my political beliefs.  Obviously, I was closer to my father's thought process.  My grandmother’s view comes from the independence era which saw Kumari Kamala dancing to the tune “Mahaan Gandhi Mahaan”.  Gandhi, Nehru and Congress motivated the young blood fighting and ultimately building a new nation.  In those days, the Congress seemed revolutionary like the Communist and Dravidian parties in the sixties and AAP in 21^st century.  The country becoming independent was probably one of the most important events of her life.  Thus, she felt indebted to the Congress for life.  But with time the party changed from Indian National Congress (INC) to “Nehruvian Congress” and finally to “Indira Congress”.  She did not understand these changes.  During this time a number of disillusioned Congress leaders left the party and formed newer parties.  These leaders took away a good part of the soul of INC to the newer parties thus making the party poor of principles.  But all this was lost of my grandmother and she blindly followed her father’s words when she supported the Congress.  Though I did not have all these thoughts in my younger days, I ended up disliking the Congress in my teens.  

My political opinions are never too strong.  I believe this comes from the fact that current affairs and politics do not interest me much.  The cartoon section of newspapers captured (and continues to capture) my attention more than any other page.  So I had no idea about my political leanings.  Though I did not like the Congress I was not sure which party I supported.  I had some liking to communism but the fall of communism in the late 80's and a few pages of Ayn Rand killed that liking for ever.  I am sure how but by the time I reached the votable age, BJP seemed an attractive option.  It probably was due to the messy vacuum created by V.P.Singh (whose reincarnation, I believe, Kejriwal is).  Their leadership team also seemed attractive.  That is till Advani climbed atop the Babri issue and caused a lot of confusion and bloodshed in the country. But Deve Gowda's sleepy tenure and Gujral’s prequel to Manmohan Singh tenure removed the Babri-cal thoughts from my head.  

At the turn of the century I was very happy to see the BJP Government at centre.  A few goods emerged from the five years of BJP rule.  Only the five years of Narasimha Rao Government left a similar impression in my mind.  Unfortunately, the BJP rule lasted five years only and the Congress was back in power.  The few days after election were worrying with the prospect of living in shame under a person of foreign origin.  To out relief the brilliant Manmohan Singh was chosen the prime minister.  Five years went by and the Congress Government did not seem to perform badly – the Manmohan magic had not lost its sheen.  Around this time, Congress' own Prince Charles started flexing his muscles.  For a few days, I was misled by the idea of joining the Congress to build a new India.  At around this time, events took a disastrous turn and the Congress Government spiralled into corruption, chaos, a speechless PM, allegations of the family looting the country, the prodigal son-in-law, the mumbling–bumbling future icon of the party and many other nonsense that I cannot remember now.

Sometime in the middle of Congress' disastrous second term, the name Narendra Modi emerged.  That Gujarat man can never make it is what many of thought.  The Gujarat riots and related accusations against him left a lot of impression on us.  But with time people started talking about him and the development he ushered in Gujarat.  His followers attracted the sceptics through the videos of his speeches.  What he said made sense and he was a powerful speaker whose words seemed very convincing.  I was soon under his sway and was desperate to see him become the PM of the country.  Apparently many others in the country thought so too and soon we had a powerful leader at the centre.  He did not have the necessity to look towards people with dubious intentions before he opened his mouth.   But the bed of roses was not thorn free.  There were doubters and agitators inside and outside of the party.  The old guards under Advani’s able leadership were sulking.  Modi and BJP's RSS associations made the so called minorities nervous (Why "so called"?  How can a secular democracy have majority and minority?).  The wilting of the roses made the thorns prominent.

Most people I met were happy with our new PM.  He seemed to have the right vision for the future and articulated them well.  We expected him to indulge in bombastic and populist action. But his actions were sober and to many he seemed to take a step at a time.  He was working to bring in timeliness at the Government offices.  We heard about him terrifying his ministers with 5AM and 7 AM review meetings.   He brought out the necessity of making India clean and every family having a bank account.  These were not all talk but we saw it happening around us too.  For me, the cleanliness of Chennai central station was a big surprise.  It was longer wet and the foul.  It was not just the stations but the trains and their toilets were clean too.  But this did not extend to all places – Chennai continued to be dirty.  But I don’t think we can blame the PM for it.  The local Governments and the citizens have to take a big chunk of that responsibility.  There were instances when even the most ardent supporter of Modi was seen throwing waste on road.  Such is our attitude.  Interestingly, the PM had mentioned some place that all the talk about “Swach Bharat” is to make people think about it initially.  He does expect India to become like Singapore in a matter of months.  That surely is a well thought of plan with realistic expectation.

Soon the honeymoon period came to an end. The trouble makers started lifting their heads.  The purportedly hard core Hindus wanted to ban beef and surprisingly the whole world went up in arms.  Many people who had issues sitting on the same table as a non-vegetarian were supporting the holding of beef parties and beef eaters were now equated to freedom fighters.   The news papers and TV channels started screaming out about the sensational case of Hindu extremism – a few hard core Hindus killed a freedom loving beef eater.  Demands of apology from every Hindu right from Narendra Modi were heard.  I do not watch the cable network and so am not sure if Arnab apologized on our behalf in prime time television.  The battle shifted to the social media with people taking sides and many versions of the reality emerged.  Since then the media and social media have been trading pole-apart realities.

This barbaric Dadri killing resulted in the strong emergence of the word - "INTOLERANCE".  I think this word is primarily used to describe an allergy – “I am intolerant to pollen”, “I am intolerant to Vijay movies” and in the latest trend “I am intolerant to Hindus”. Since that last sentence is grammatically incorrect, the word extremism is added at the end.  As a result of this allergy, many intellectuals started returning awards.  Many caring citizens expressed their concern in prime time television. Soon the King-Kongs of Bollywood joined.  Shahrukh Khan cried out at the intolerance he was being subjected to.  One of my oldest friends mentioned over dinner that he was very disturbed by the growing Hindu extremism.  This happened a week before the attacks in Paris.  I was of the view that that is an instance of extremism.  I am not sure if the ISIS would quite appreciate it if we equate the Dadri killers to them.  As the word suggests, extremism requires something extreme to be done.  I am not sure if the Hindus have the capacity to indulge in extreme acts.  Maybe a sacrifice here or a stone thrown there but none of those grand “lets blast a few round of AK47s in a concert”.  Sure there are fanatical elements in Hinduism but extremism is taking it too far.  Unlike riots which are immediate and reactionary in nature, extremism leads to well thought acts of destruction as in Paris.  It is not fair to compare Alexander with Aurangazeb (I am not sure which of the two would be feel insulted with this comparison).

The Paris incident and the BJP not winning Bihar elections brought a lull to intolerance to intolerance storm.  Modi was yesterday’s hero; the press had newer one.  The ever charming Lalu, the angry old leader Nitish, the man of the messes Kejriwal, the atomic Didi and the American returned Akhilesh were the new hopes of India.  Lalu's ninth and twelfth failed sons with that hope-dope of the future were the shining stars of youthful democracy.  The media and in a few instance social media started singing praises for these shining stars of 2019.  I hope that the Mayans have missed the end of the world by few years and that the world would end by 2019.

I did not realize that I missed intolerance’s Arnold-ish “I will be back”. Coincidentally, A is for Arnold, A is for Aamir Khan and A is for that stinky place too.   Aamir Khan possibly figures in every Indians best actors list.  For a long time, he also seemed to be a perfect human being - a good and concerned citizen.  If Aamir had made that statement a few years ago, it would have made many of us reassess our thoughts.  But Aamir's personal reputation has not been the same for the past decade or so.  There were talks of affairs and a child abroad.  He separated from his long standing wife and soon got married again. I have no issues with these if I was thinking of Aamir the actor.  But these thoughts are not good enough for me to appreciate or even tolerate Aamir the social activist. Personally, I found his actions during the Narmada Bachao Andolan disappointing.  Initially it was impressive to see him sit in the dharna supporting the farmers.  He seemed genuinely concerned about the dam effects on the fate of the small farmers.  Many of us were touched and had a tear in our eyes.  A few days later, the ever vigilant media vilified today’s hero with the news that Aamir would lose some of his ancestral property as a result of the dam.  Suddenly a chink appeared in Aamir's golden armor of selflessness.  He put on the Lagaan hat and became a farmer's grandson whose genes have been tuned to understand the pain of a farmer.  Many faces emerged in the broken mirror.  It is not wrong to be selfish but to mask selfishness with selflessness is quite a cheat.  Apparently, it only takes a misstep to get to the bottom of the goodness hill regardless of how high one is.

Aamir continued his concerned citizen act with Satyamev Jayate and had the whole nation in tears.  The success of the programme and his movies made Aamir feel like a God.  He now believes he knows the ultimate truth and now can will others to utter it too.  His words seem to be the worst among all the tolerant servants of Gods.  Sadly, he does not come in and say that he finds this place intolerable to live due to all the intolerance (is that a paradox?).   He generously brings in his Hindu wife’s name and casually mentions a bedroom conversation in public.  The point to note is the Hinduness of his wife.  She finds it intolerable and that is good enough for us to realize how pathetic India is.  The country has become so dangerous that she want to move out of here.  I wonder which safe country she has in  mind when she says she wants to move.  On the day of this momentous disclosure, Russian jets were brought down by Turkey and the worry of World War III was in the air. A few days earlier, an African-American was shot 16 times by cops.  A week or so earlier, ISIS gunned down over 100 people in Paris. As a result Muslims around the world were facing many unfriendly situations.  Switzerland had banned the use of hijab in public places.  A few weeks later, a couple of Pakistani origin shot a number of innocent Americans in California.  A friend had mentioned that sometimes it is scary living in US because they are not quite sure who is going to get out a gun and start shooting.  I don’t think Mrs. and Mr. Khan are stupid enough not to know of these occurrences.  So how do they think there is a safer place than India somewhere on this messy planet?  Aamir himself was strip searched and interrogated at Chicago in 2002 as a result of his name.  The dream destination of many Indians is definitely not the comfortable place for Mrs. and Mr.Khan.

But there is something more hurtful than Khans statement!  I don’t too much about that guy’s personal beliefs and morals to take his seemingly intellectual statement seriously.  What hurts me more is the kind of support many people extend to this ridiculous statement.  While the common people on the social media have been tearing the ever selfish Khan to pieces our dear journalist and media persons continue to talk about freedom of expression and intolerance.  The statement "with great power comes great responsibility" should be remembered by all these people in power.  Aamir is a person with a lot of power and while he has the freedom to express what he wants, he should express it responsibly.  He cannot make populist statements to be a part of the intelligentsia (all of whom have decided to be journalists and media persons).  Unfortunately, we the common people of India don't have a choice but be embarrassed about being a Hindu, Muslim, forward caste, Dalit, north Indian, Madrasi and a million other things.  Some of us write, not very well, and put these words in blogs that no one reads.  Others express it much better and get noticed by many as in the case of this link.

Probably for the first time in the nation’s history, we have a PM who seems to care about the nation.  He does not have a family trying to loot the country or let the country into dynastic rule.  He has a tough task ahead of him in first attempting to change the nation's attitude.  Only then can he think of trying to achieve anything.  Not many in his party support him in the endeavor, which makes things tougher.  To complicate matters further, he cannot make enemies inside the party and at the same time has the tough task of making his party seem intelligent.  We have to support him for our country to be successful.  Instead what do we do - we indulge in absurdities, we build stories about the downfall of Narendra Modi.  We wait for him to fail.  Even if he fails, I am sure he will move on but I am not so sure about the country.  Just this morning, the news was showing how the Congress ridiculing the parliament by sloganeering in Rajya Sabha.  The reason, their beloved leaders are summoned by the court.  How dare these jokers treat their leaders like first among equals?  Can’t people file a case against these two and should they not appear before the court?  How can we let jokers with such absurd mentality come back and rule this country?  Or do we expect an odd-even prime minister for the nation?  The rest are not even worth a discussion.

When will all these tolerant intelligentsia understand we don't have a bloody choice!

Stars along the way

"You should be in Trivandrum tomorrow" announced my boss as I walked into the office.  My first thought was to rectify the blunder he committed in referring to Thiruvanathapuram as Trivandrum but I let it go.  After all for a good ten years of my life I struggled pronouncing the Malayalam version of the name.  It always came out as Thiruvanthanapuram much to the amusement of the listeners.  So I preferred calling it Trivandrum.  Soon I realized there was another bigger issue to be addressed.  I was planning to leave to Bangalore the next day and this trip would mess things up.

"But I am going to Bangalore" I said tentatively.

"Oh shit! I forgot" said boss.  "But it is OK, you can go to Bangalore from Trivandrum".

"But I booked my tickets to Bangalore through Tatkal" I protested weakly.  After many attempts in the past years, I had, for the first time, succeeded in booking a tatkat railway ticket through the irctc site and I did not want the success to go wasted.  "The ticket is already booked" continued my protesting voice.

Boss did not look up as he gave back a curt "Cancel it".  I did not have the guts to say another word and a few hours later I found myself in the seat 9F of an Indigo airlines flight to Trivandrum.  As is usually the case in a flight, I buried my head in a book.  When I heard the end of the boarding process announcement, I looked up to see a towering figure with a familiar face walk down the aisle.  The lower part of his face was buried under a beard and the middle part under a pair of goggles.  He seated himself at the other end from me - seat 9A.  I gave a furtive look at him and came to a decision about his identity - the Malayalam star Jayaram.  A few more furtive looks brought in some doubts.  No one was bothering him - No trying to talk to him; No taking selfies with him; nothing.  But the person in question kept his sight away from all by looking out of the window.  I went back to the book and did not look up till the announcement preparing us for landing came on.  I looked around and found a number of heads were now turned towards the celebrity.  "Ah a confirmation at last!" thought I.  When the plane landed I got up to get down but the star continued to sit.  For a brief moment, we looked at each other and by the time I could make up my mind to smile or not he looked away.

As soon as I got out of the airplane, I checked my mobile to find a message from a good old Thiruvanthurain friend.  It read "Hey man a quick q. Have you been to Hong Kong?".  Though I had only briefly traveled through Hong Kong to Shenzhen, I gave a technically correct "Once" and put in a querying "What's up?".  A short while later came the response "Trivandrum is just like Hong Kong. That experience will help".  I rolled my eyes and responded an agreement but added a protesting "but they don't speak Chinese".  I had been to Trivandrum a few decades ago but remembered little.  The ups and downs of the rain washed roads and the cinemascopic gopuram of the Padmanabhaswamy Ksethram were my only memories from the trip.

Thiruvananthapuram looked different from earlier memories and from the other places I visit in Kerala, which are usually the smaller towns and villages of Kerala.  A couple of times I had been to Kochi, which seemed more inspired by Bangalore than any other place.  But Thiruvananthapuram seemed a great combination of a Kerala town and Delhi.  Broad tree lined roads with neatly laid out buildings.  My colleague from Thiruvananthapuram kept warning me that I was seeing the best places in the city and I should not conclude every place looked like this.  But we were on the road for quite a bit that day and I did not see any place that looked different.

I stayed at the Hotel Mascot, which is managed by KTDC.  It is one of the oldest hotels in the city and had been in existence from the time of the British.  I was fortunate enough to stay in one of the older rooms which was probably occupied by some British WW I soldier with a bandage round his head.  It was a large TV remote unfriendly room that did not allow me to control the television placed at the other of the room from my bed.  Surprisingly not many people knew of this place when I mentioned it .  This in spite of the area outside the hotel being named on the Hotel.  Later I realized everyone referred to the hotel as Muscat hotel.  The citizen of the land had, very rightly, dedicated this age old hotel to the Middle East, which has converted (and continues to convert) many dreams into reality.

The next morning, I walked in for breakfast at around 9AM.  The restaurant, like the hotel itself, was large and had about 30 tables.  Of these only two were occupied.  I chose a table hidden between two pillars and started forking in the good food.  One of the table was occupied by an elderly lady and two others.  The lady's spoke in a very audible tone.  She was talking in Malayalam laden with what I thought was a Tamil accent.  Soon, I realized she was talking about Telegu movies and Balakrishna.  I realized that it was Telugu that had caught hold of her Malayalam.  I went back to the buffet to pick some more food.  When I got back to the table I saw a lady sitting one of the seats.  A man was standing respectfully besides her.  I hesitated a moment before informing the lady that I occupied this table and as proof pointed at the cup of tea placed opposite to her.  The man very generously mentioned "its okay you can sit there, no problem".  I looked around at the near empty restaurant before sitting down.  A little later, the old lady got up to leave.  She was immediately surrounded by a group of waiters clicking pictures on mobiles and requesting for autograph.  I looked at her and realized the person looked familiar.  The man, standing politely besides my table helped me out by saying "that is an old famous actress, Saradha.  Urvashi Saradha".  Ah yes! Urvashi Saradha from Thulabharam - kattadichu kodum kattadichu.  Should I not do something?  Get a picture or sign or something.  Too late; she was out of the restaurant.

At the end of the day, I took a taxi to the airport.  As the taxi pulled into the airport I saw the departure gate enveloped by a number of people.  There were TV vans and it looked like another celebrity was crossing my path.  The crowd and the TV cameras made me assume it to be some kind of political leader.  There were people everywhere and many of their mobile cameras were recording the proceedings.  I walked up to a police man and asked him how to get in.  He said there was a small way on the side.  When I got to the place, I saw that was blocked too.  As I walked back I asked a person about the celebrity's identity.  He said very simply "that's Abdul Nazer".  I was not into Kerala politics and so had no idea who this Abdul Nazer was.  So I asked him "Who's Abdul Nazer?"  He looked at me with sternness flowing out of his.  He did say a word.  I had made a great error. I mumbled something as I walked away quickly.  I tried to get in through the arrival gate but the security personnel shoo-ed me away.  As I walked back to the departure gate the crowd went ecstatic with chants of "Allah hu Akbar" and "Abdul Nazer Zindabad".  I moved away from the crowd and waited.  A few minutes later, Abdul Nazer went in and the crowd went away.  As I walked into the airport, I called a Malayalee friend and asked him "who's Abdul Nazar".  He responded "Oh Madani".

A hard day's night

I could not keep my eyes open.  I blamed the time I spent under the hot sun for my tired state.  I dragged my feet as I entered my hotel room and flopped on the bed.  The TV went on automatically and an enthusiastic young man started raving about a not-to-miss kill deal.  I lay on the bed listening to the man go on about one of the greatest mobile phones on the planet.  From time to time he interjected a sentence or two about the lower than the lowest price of the mobile.  I was informed that the big wow of this mobile is the big screen usually found on expensive mobile made available on this lower than the lowest priced mobile.  I raised my head to see how this incredible product looked but my sight was captured by the sincere expression on the guys face.  I put my head back on the bed and continued to listen.

When I woke up, I realized that I had slept at some point of time.  The excited guy was no longer heard.  It was a pious voice telling me about Rudraksh.   I continued to lie and listen to this new voice.   The voice informed in pious earnestness about the wonderful powers of the Rudraksh.  He claimed that the Rudraksh is a direct connection between our heart and Lord Shiva who resides in the high regions of Mount Kailash.  For that reason we should wear it close to our heart.  It gives us peace and the Mount Kailash connection helps us cool down after a day’s hard work.  I decided I needed a Rudraksh.  I decided the pious man and put my hand into my pocket to get out my mobile.  I did not find my mobile there; I had thrown it somewhere as soon as I entered the room.  I decided to memorize his mobile number, which he recited ever so often.  After hearing the number a few times I had it safe in my head.  

When I woke up, I realized that I had slept at some point of time.  The voice had changed again.  It was back to enthusiasm and excitement.  There were two voices – a guy and a girl.  Both their voices were in the shriller regions of excitement.  They were talking about some clothing that made a person look slimmer.  As I continued to listen, I understood this wonderful product was only available for men.  Specifically for men like me who had lost their confidence in life due to their “U” shapes and desperately needed a “V” shape to get back their confidence.  And this confident “V” shape resulted when one wore this clothing made out of a perfect combination of cotton, nylon and spandex.  Unlike the earlier two episodes, I was only saddened by this one.  This product was not for me.  It required a “U” to start off with rather than a “O” that I possessed. Oh no!

When I woke up, I realized that I had slept at some point of time.  I had enough of this cycle and decided to get up.  It took me a few seconds to stabilize and in this period a sultry voice was informing of some ayurvedic drug that would help a person to beat lethargy and turn on the heat.  I reached out and switched the TV off.  The only light in room went out and I was enveloped by darkness.  I cursed and switched on the TV again.  “She deserves it.  So buy now” said the sultry voice.  I moved with surprising quickness to switch on the lights and turn off the TV before another word was uttered by the sultry voice.  I looked at the table and found my mobile and wallet lying there.  I walked up to the table and picked the mobile.  Four missed calls, two from my boss.  It was too late to call back.  This was the moment for the Rudraksh.  I started dialing the number.  I got as far as the 4th number.  I was not sure if the 5th number was a 3 or a 7.  I picked 3 and then wondered if the next number was a 5 or a 2.  I locked the mobile, threw it back onto the table, switched off the light and went back to sleep.

Oh Kolkotta!

Many of us in the right side of 80s, (i.e.) the side in which I was born, have fond remembrance of Doordarshan.  DD was the king of entertainment in the 80s.  Visual entertainment reached our drawing rooms and we felt we could be entertained anytime.   No longer were we required to plan, book, travel and keep a big chunk of our time assigned to visual entertainment.  We just switch on the TV and we are entertained with movies, songs, information and news.  What fun!  The only issue was that we did not have the choice of time or content.  We were entertained only when the masters at DD felt so and that too with content of their choice.  So we waited a whole week to see the latest movie songs only to be given a load of patriotic songs from many years prior to our birth,  At that time, we did not have the taste to enjoy such classics from the past.  Even so, many of us look back at those days with a nostalgically satisfying sniff and tear.  I guess one of Bruce Springsteen's songs tell us why those days were better than today, at least as far as TV was concerned - those were not the days of "56 channels and nothing on".

Among all these programmes, the Sunday afternoon regional language movie held a special place in our hearts.  The excitement of finding which language would be shown, the thrill on learning that a movie from your region has been selected and the pleasure of having tears steam down our cheeks non-stop for two hours made a lasting impression in our heads.  There are a couple of things that I remember about these movie.  First, Oriya directors made the saddest movies on Earth - Even at that tender age it took a lot of self control for me not to kill myself at the end of an Oriya movie.  Second, Calcutta (as it was called then) is the most fascinating place on Earth.  The trams, the people, the language, the Rosgullas and Satyajit Ray made the movies and ultimately Calcutta the most fascinating place on Earth - a place to visit.  

Many decades have passed since those days and we have leaped across a century.  That brilliantly futuristic 21st century we envisaged is here and yet visiting Calcutta (or Kolkotta as it will be called from now on) did not take place.  Once I had the good luck of visiting the airport en route to Guahati,  I peered out of the airport and the flight as it took off and landed in an attempt to see the Howrah bridge with disappointing results.  A few years back an opportunity came by for me to spend a week there but another plan interjected to ruin it all.  Thus the wish remained a wish for a good part of my life.

A good 14 years into the 21st century the day finally arrived.  The tyres of the plane rudely smashed onto the earth and our belted bodies felt force in many directions.  The plane took a left off the main runway and the belts started clicking open.  A few souls in hurry to get out of the steel tube, got up and started opening the overhead lockers.  The hostess came online to remind everyone that "we are taxiing still" and requested everyone to continue to be seated.  Then the pilot came on and assured everyone that he planned to reach the gate safe.  He promised that everyone would reach their home in a short while and that no one would be left back on the plane.  "So sit back and enjoy the final moments of this flight" he ended.  The mobiles started ringing and many voices said similar words in many language "Yes we have landed and would be out in a few minutes".  

Kolkotta airport seemed much better than the Calcutta airport I visited a few years earlier.  It seemed spacious and more international.  It did not look as though parts of the roof would fall on our heads. I looked down at the baggage carousal hall from the arrival gate and saw that parts of the hall were not complete yet.  My colleague pointed at a few flower pots placed at a corner.  They were in the shapes of frogs, spiders, mushrooms, elves and other such  fancy creatures.  For some reason, these fancy creature-ish pots caught his fancy and he whipped out his mobile to click pictures in five different angles.  His embarrassed companion tried his best to keep away and act as though he had no idea who this naive picture taker was.  But there was no escape; the company logo proudly beaming out of t-shirts clarified to all the relation between the two people.  

The queue at the taxi counter was long.  I remembered the omnipresent yellow taxis from all those Bengali movies and saw a few of them outside.  But not enough of them were around for the passengers inside.  A Volvo bus came by and picked up a few passengers.  By the time, we decided to move out of the queue and get into the bus it had moved on.  My colleague called some expert on Kolkotta who said that we had to only get out of the airport to catch one of the many buses that went very close to our destination.  We got out of the queue and airport.  The only way to the road outside was through the car park.  We maneuvered through cars of many sizes and shapes eager to get out the of the lot.  In the process, I experienced a few "near death experiences" - my whole life started playing in front of my eyes - I got as far as my first day at school.

As we walked up the ramp of the parking lot, we saw a yellow cab slow down at some distance.  The cab stopped and the driver waved at us.  We increased our pace of walking.  Our luggages struggled to keep up with us.  As we reached the cab, the driver waved us into the cab with a few words of Bangla. We got in and uttered the name of our destination.  The driver uttered many words in Bangla and started the cab (he probably said "Ok, I will take you there.  Now sit back and relax while I take a few twists and turns to take you two to your wonderful destination").  As we got out of the airport, we saw the bus stop.  As the guy had said there were many buses.  Each of them had more than a hundred people in excess to its capacity.  The bus stop itself had many more hundreds of people trying to clamber into the buses.  We gave thankful looks at the cab driver and God (though lately God's performance in the area of looking after us was way below our expectations).

Kolkotta is a city of building (not buildings for I use that word to mean "in the process of being built").  Every where I looked something getting built.  Skyscrapers, apartments, flyovers, metros, bridges, houses, offices, malls and many such incomplete whatevers watched us pass by.  Many of these incompletes did not have anyone around. It seemed like they would continue to be in this state for many more years.  The few lucky incompletes had two or three people walking around carrying rubble on their heads.  

The road leading from the airport were wide and the traffic free flowing.  Some amount of landscaping was done on the stretch from the airport to the city.  Many of the crossing were marked with large statues.  The two owls looking down at me with their large questioning eyes reside in my head still.  Among the partially and fully completed structures that lined the road were a few lakes, fields and marsh land.  These came out as a surprise in the least expected of the places.  While the right side of the road was filled with humanity, the left was left open to fields, lakes and marsh land.  The landscape on either side of these stretches seemed to belong to different centuries.  

One hour into the ride, the taxi driver said something, in Bangla of course.  I responded with a brave "Kya app hindi mein baath kar sakthe hain?" He seemed to hesitate for a moment before asking, in hindi, the exact address of the place where we would alight.  I looked up the address in my phone and said it out.  He said he did not know how to get there and that we have to ask someone.  I called up "someone"and passed the phone to him.  Many Bangla words were exchanged through the phone before it reached my hands again.  The drive continued but now we moved out of the highway into some bye-lanes.  I looked at the houses and buildings that lined these lanes.  They were nondescript and were just like the buildings and houses that lined the lanes of any city or town in India.  In a few minutes, the driver stopped the vehicle with a sudden jerk.  He then pointed ahead and mentioned that our destination was the fifth building on the right.  I asked him to go on to the building.  He said he cannot proceed anymore; a cat had crossed the cab's path.  On further inquiry he said that a cat crossing your path brought bad luck.  I said "nothing of that sort, go ahead".  He then got onto a long story on how a cat crossing his path had brought terrible ill luck.  As a matter of fact, he had nearly been killed in that incident. Apparently, his car fell into a pond soon after the cat crossed his path.  He lost the car but was able to save his life "thanks for Shibji's kripa".  So there was no way he was going to move an inch ahead.  We got out, paid him and saw the taxi zoom back at an inhuman pace.  In the process, he nearly ran over a couple of people; maybe the cat crossed their paths too.

We spent the rest of the day in the office indulging in a lot of this and that activities.  At the end of the day, one of our hosts was kind enough to offer a spin around the city.  We were shameless enough to accept the offer without any display of hesitation.  The next two hours were spent surrounded by a million people walking, driving, shouting, spitting, honking, running, teasing, etc.  Even in Mumbai, I had not seen so many people.  In many ways, Kolkotta seems like an older but poorer brother of Mumbai.  The Esplanade area with many of the buildings from the British age still standing, though barely, reminded one of the Colaba area of Mumbai.  Though in this case there are many more people and the British age buildings in Mumbai are much better maintained than the ones here.

Kolkotta is very famous for its Maidans.  These are large spaces in the centre of the city left open for people to play, run and relax.  Right across one of these, is the famous Victoria memorial.  It was nearly 9pm when we reached there and we looked at the lighted memorial at a distance from the gate.  The gate was guarded by two majestic lions in white stone.  I am not sure how the place looks in the morning but at night with the lights focused on the lions and the memorial, in the distance, the sight was simply magnificent.  Through the day, we had heard of the wonderful puchkas (some kind of pani poori apparently) you get in the Victoria area.  By the time, we got there all the puchka sellers had called it a day.

Now it was time to get to the river.  We started off with an average but expensive dinner in a ship docked at the bank of the river.  The ship has been converted into a hotel and restaurant.  From the top deck of the ship you get a good view of the river and through the foggy night we were able to discern the vague shape of the Howrah bridge.  The sight on that foggy night made it seem like a painting by some famous painter whose name I should remember.  Unfortunately, the food was less than an average affair and the cost was much more than an expensive affair.  Fortunately, for us our host vehemently insisted on paying the bill and we obliged very willingly.

On the way back to our hotel, which was quite a distance away from where we were, our host decided to take a lengthy detour to show us the new (relatively speaking that is) rope bridge across the Howrah river.  He claimed to have an uncle who was involved in the building and the maintenance of the bridge. This uncle had taken him to the top of the column that held the ropes and that the view from the top of the column was better than spectacular.  The drive across the bridge felt like a drive across any bridge.  The massive ropes that held the bridge were a sight though.  At the other end of the bridge were the toll booths, which we were not able to avoid.  We had to travel further for another couple of kilometres before heading back to our hotel.

The next day, was spent in the office with nothing spectacular happening except for those fantastic Rosgullas and sandeshs that entered our digestive system every hour of the day.  The drive back to the airport was a nail biting thriller though.  We did not realize that the evening traffic would be such that getting out of the office two and a half hour prior to the flight was barely enough to get us to the check-in counters 45 minutes prior to the flight.  Fortunately for us, we were not travelling Air India and we were able check-in.