Wednesday, January 27, 2010

Sona

It was 5 am. One of the busiest docks in Mumbai, Bhaucha Dhakka was already up and running. No one knows how long has this port followed the same routine. The rush starts at the Dockyard station where hundreds alight from distant suburbs. You could see them running across the foot over bridge every morning, men and women of all sizes rushing about their daily business. Daily wage labourers, fishermen and fisherwomen rush to board the shuttle service BEST no. 41, waiting at the end of the overbridge, that takes them to the Dhakka as the locals call it.

The dock itself smells of all things dank and deep. Fresh and dried fish being traded everywhere, some newspaper vendors and the quaint snack shops complete the picture. A place with an ancient routine and yet some newness everyday. The old wooden benches seemed to have stories of conversations of ages ago. Every part of the dock, a piece of history itself.

It was in this ancient place that Bhola had set up a brand new tea stall. He was one of the many enterprising North Indian migrants in the city, trying to make a place for themselves in the city of dreams. Everyday the hustle and bustle reminded him just how much he loved to be a part of this city that never slept. He had just finished attending to two deck hands of one of the many catamarans that ferried people when Sona jumped onto the table at the stall. Sona was one of the many cats loitering at the dock. Apart from stealing fish from the many baskets kept at the dock, Sona loved to lap up the milk that Bhola offered her everyday. She had been a weak kitten when she had walked in one rainy day. Bhola had taken pity on her and had fed her hot milk and since then it had become a daily routine. In a friendless city, Bhola and Sona were what each of them had for themselves.

But today was the day when this delicate friendship was set to change forever. As Bhola was stroking Sona, he heard a voice calling out. ‘Suniye, do chai dijiye.’ Bhola turned to find two college students standing at his stall. The owner of the voice, a beautiful looking young girl. The freshness of her face seemed odd at this run down dock. A sense of it all being unreal descended on Bhola. ‘Do chai bola’, her voice shook him out of his thoughts. The girl was looking slightly irritated at his lackadaisical attitude. Bhola quickly got back to work and gave the girls the tea. Sona seemed to be whimpering loudly in the backdrop and the girls threw a dirty look at the cat and then an accusing glance at Bhola for letting dirty animals into the stall as they left. ‘Safai ka dhyaan bhi nahin rakhte yahaan ke log’, the girl muttered as she left.

That brief exchange changed something within Bhola. Try as he might he couldn’t get the girl out of his head for the rest of the day. At night as he fell asleep in his little slum room, he wondered if he would see her again. It was strange for him to feel infatuated so soon.

The next day was business as usual at the Dhakka. The same sea of humanity going about their work. For Bhola though it was a different day. It was a day filled with anticipation for him. Would she come again? He was serving tea as usual but his mind was restless. Well it didn’t seem as she would come, but Sona was there right on time. As the cat settled herself on the table as usual, Bhola felt a mild irritation for the first time. He really looked at the smudges of dirt on the table her paws were leaving, the greyish brown fur and the slight smell that emanated from the cat. ‘Maybe the girls were right. I should discourage this cat from coming here’, he said to himself. He poured Sona an extra hot saucer of milk today. The cat whined slightly with the first lick, but instead of going away, she just settled herself for the milk to cool a bit and continue feeding herself. This irritated Bhola a little more. Just as his irritation was mounting he heard that voice again. His heart almost jumped with joy.

The girls were there again. Seemed that they came from some village near Rewas and had taken admission in a Mumbai college. The girls lacked the finesse of the South Mumbai college girls, but made up for it with the freshness of their faces. Bhola could not help but stare at this girl, but like every infatuated man, he would look away if she looked in his direction.

Soon it became a routine. Bhola would give the girls their morning tea and would spend the rest of the day mooning over the girl who he had by now gathered was called Deepa. Deepa would come each day with her friend and Bhola started connecting every good thing happening in his life with her. His tea stall seemed to be getting more popular and he felt it was all because he started his day looking at her beautiful face. But one thing that bothered him was Sona. The more he started liking Deepa, the more he wanted to banish the dirty cat from his stall. Invariably Sona would end up coming to the shop at the same time as Deepa. This irritated him no end. He tried hot milk, putting some salt in the milk everything that would irritate the cat, but she seemed to be somehow tied to his shop and wouldn’t leave.

His nights now were full of two thoughts. How to get closer to Deepa and how to get rid of the cat. One day though it seemed that his wish was granted. Deepa finally spoke to him. Though it was just a casual chat about how the weather was turning slightly chilly and how his tea was a life saver in this weather, it was all Bhola needed to feel over the moon. He started thinking Deepa liked him too. This pleased him but even that day while leaving the girls threw a dirty look at the cat. He shooed Sona away as he smiled sheepishly at the departing girls.

From that day onwards he started giving Deepa and her friend something free with the chai, a toffee, a piece of cake and when the girls asked he said that it was because they were his loyal customers. The weather was getting cooler and though Mumbai didn’t really have a winter, early mornings could be quite chilly. Sona seemed to spend more time at the stall trying to get some warmth from the heat of the burning stove. Bhola was no really losing it with the cat. Her presence was like some bad omen to him. If on some day he had a fight with some customer or someone commented on something lacking in his shop, he blamed it all on the cat’s unlucky presence. Deepa and her friend continued to frequent the shop and one day while he was shooing away the cat she told him, ‘Why don’t you get a stick tomorrow and beat her away? The cat is really a nuisance.’ You know I had never thought of this, thanks for the suggestion’, Bhola replied.

The next day when Sona pounced on the table, Bhola was ready he took out a stick and beat the cat and chased her away. Sona squealed and whimpered and ran away. It was a very cold day and the cat really seemed to have needed the hot milk, but Bhola was determined that he would not let the cat spoil the cleanliness of his shop. She could get the milk from somewhere else. The cat had received enough blows from his stick. When Bhola returned he was greeted with the smiling faces of Deepa and her friend who had seen him chasing away the cat. ‘Good you did that’, she said. ‘Anything for my loyal customers,’ Bhola replied with a smile. Deepa’s affirmation wiped away the remaining guilt of sending the cat to fend for herself on such a cold, damp day.

After the girls left, Bhola realised that one of the customers had left a bag at his shop. He seemed to have gone in the direction of the bus stop. Conscientious as he was Bhola asked the newspaper vendor who sat near his stall to look after it while he rushed to the bus stop to find the customer. He finally found him waiting for the bus. The man thanked him profusely for returning the bag. Bhola declined the offer of being paid for his honesty and was going back to his shop when he heard a familiar giggle. ‘That tea boy is really smitten with you Deepa, he does anything for you’, the friend was saying. Bhola stopped in his tracks, he wanted to hear what Deepa would say to that. He was standing slightly far away and the girls had not yet noticed him. Deepa was giggling, ‘Yeah I noticed that the first day itself, the way he was looking at me. I just felt like playing along. He looked like such an idiotic infatuated puppy. And look don’t we get freebies everyday from him. I am sure someday if we have some problem at the dock, he will come running to help. I don’t want to be mean, but you cant help but string along such fools’ she laughed as she walked away.

Bhola’s ears were ringing as he returned to his stall. It was like someone had just taken out his heart and squeezed it of all the blood. The disillusionment was terrible. ‘And it was for her that you beat up that poor creature?’ His guilty head asked him constantly. He shut his shop and went about looking for the cat, but she was nowhere to be found. Disheartened he went home early that evening, but couldn’t sleep a wink. The next day he was up early and reached the dock to his stall. He kept on looking out for the cat but couldn’t find her. Just then the newspaper vendor came to set up his stall. He looked at Bhola and said, ‘That cat wont trouble you anymore. I just saw her bloody body on the curb of the road. They say she was run over by a car sometime ago. A dead cat, not a good omen to see early in the morning on your way to work.’ Tears were Bhola’s only reply.

Wednesday, January 20, 2010

Censored within the fourth estate

Disclaimer : This is a post written after a friend was 'Tharoored' recently by his publication for his use of social networking. If it is slightly politically incorrect or even incoherent, apologies. This is just a personal view.

Now why am I putting out a disclaimer already? Well its thanks to what happened to the friend I mentioned earlier in the post. We are a status message generation I could say. So this friend of mine, who writes a no-holds barred, sarcastically yours blog loves to proclaim his world view once in a while. He puts up something about a recent much talked about event on FB, the only glitch is that it involves some higher ups in his organisation. Suddenly he is branded as a rebel without a cause and asked to change his status, which due to professional pressures, he eventually does. Now I am not taking sides, not saying whether he was right or wrong. But it made me wonder how insecure we fourth estate people ourselves can be of the one thing we keep talking about upholding - 'Freedom of expression'. My friend had been ‘Tharoored’, as he put it.

While I was in college, I remember avidly reading this blog called War For News. This blog was started when the English news channel scene was hotting up in the country with the launch of two new channels. The blog started out as a sharp critique of news room decisions and on air presentations of news channels. As a student, struggling with an ancient syllabus that was divorced from reality, this blog was one of the places I used to go to get an idea of what happened day to day behind the studio lights so to say.

Some might say it was a warped view of the news industry. Indeed some of the comments were too personal in nature and the site was reportedly blocked in many a newsroom, but it was the only place where media men themselves critically looked at what was being dished out. At first it was all the rage, but then later on the site degenerated into accounts of who was seeing whom and who was whose favourite, clearly losing the aim of being the watchdog of the watchdog. Stories still abound about the forceful closure of the website after it indulged in unethical leaks of corporate mails and such.

The only other well-read media watchdog is probably The Hoot, but it sticks to the basic debates of journalistic integrity rather than day-to-day decision making in newsrooms. The Hoot was the Indian express to the Mumbai Mirror of War For News. The slew of copycat websites after War For News either died a neglectful death or degenerated to gossip magazines about media celebrities.

Social media makes freedom of expression a dicey concept. The lines between professional and personal blur on most of these sites. Recently a friend’s twitter account was added into the official twitter list. She had to now refrain from posting all the personal updates she did till then, because now it had been made into a professional mouth piece. What she tweeted now would be seen as the view of a responsible journalist. Some editors recognise this power of the new media and make wonderful use of it to serve the cause of expression.

But introspection is not a strong point yet in world media. And criticising your own system is a big no no. Tharoors of the system are mostly strongly dealt with world over. The Washington Post, the BBC and the Wall Street journal all have a list of ‘dos and don’ts’ in social media for their journalists. The Post circular says 'We must remember that Washington Post journalists are always Washington Post journalists', and that, '[we must] relinquish some of the personal privileges of private citizens.'

'Post journalists must recognize that any content associated with them in an online social network is, for practical purposes, the equivalent of what appears beneath their bylines in the newspaper or on our website.' (http://www.editorsweblog.org/newsrooms_and_journalism/2009/09/should_journalists_self-censor_on_social.php )

While a certain amount of responsibility is required of any media professional using a free for all medium like FB or Twitter, the question arises if we are taking ourselves too seriously? Are we taking these mediums of communication, that cater to less than a tenth of our population, and as Rajdeep Sardesai puts it ‘perfect to express a strong opinion without having to actually get involved in the muck of public life’ (http://ibnlive.in.com/blogs/rajdeepsardesai/1/54062/to-tweet-or-not-to-tweet.html ) too seriously? Would censoring opinions of their own vocal employees amount to negating all that the fourth estate stands for?

The question shouldn’t be whether to express an opinion or not. The actual question is where to draw the thin line between constructive criticism and disrespect, the line between rebelling with and without a cause. Maybe the day we as the fourth estate figure it out, we would be able to decide more precisely whether bigoted views of right wing politicians and idiotic or insensitive representations of issues in various art forms should be given a voice in the name of ‘Freedom of Speech’ or not. Should it be a voicing of opinions or informed opinions, maybe that is the bigger question.

Saturday, December 26, 2009

Over numerous cups of coffee

Well have had the following revelations about relationships over numerous cups of bad office coffee, some good barista coffee and well just coffee, because I am not the lets talk stuff over drinks person :-) Thought it might be interesting to share this debunking of myths with people out here :-) Its probably just a continuation to being in twenties post earlier but exclusively with respect to relationships.


The space myth : Oh we have all heard that we should give our partner space. Girls are told more often than boys that they should give their guys space. Yes it is necessary to give space. But what I have seen many people I know do is take getting space to mean being able to whatever they like without any consideration of what their partner wants or feels like. So if the partner says that such and such habit of theirs is not to their liking people accuse their partners of not giving them space. Space does not mean that you encroach on the self respects and rights of you partner. You do what you like within the limits of your partner's personal space too. You give some you take some.

The commitment myth : 'But I didn't think of another guy/girl while I was with them, doesn't that show I am committed?' No it doesn't. Did you discuss the future of your relationship with them and if yes did you ensure that you included them in your vision of your future? Are you still jittery about introducing them to all your friends or keep crying for time to introduce them to family? Does your family atleast know that such aperson exists in your life even if they think its a friend? Commitment is not just marriage or being monogamous. It means that you commit to share your lives and in that case you include your partner in all aspects of your life. You can't say you are committed if a part of your life doesn't even know about the existence of your partner. Then you are devaluing your partner's importance in your life and it would also seem to them that you are not sure of the relationship and that is why you have an escape route ready by not acknowledging their existence. Don't be surprised if they out of the blue dump you. They probably tried to talk but you might have given them the I need space and time talk everytime they asked. And one can ask only so many times. Also a person I spoke to told me that they could of course not be there for the other person always coz guys have other things too apart from their love life. So what is your love life, a time pass diversion to you? And if other things are so important why don't you live with with just them other things? Why get into a relationship?

The relationships shouldn't be hard work myth : Well here is the truth. Life is difficult, so nothing in it can be easy. It seems that people take it literally when they read all those relationship self help books. If you believe them nothing in life should be hard. It should all be blissful and perfect. Well kiddo doesn't work so. You have to actively work at maintaining a relationship. If at the first conflict you abandon it saying it has to be easy then maybe you have commitment issues. Also people have the absurd expectation (probably comes from the media of which I am a guilty party) that partners have to absolutely understand them almost to the point of telepathy. And not just that partners should think exactly like them in everything. Again completely wrong. You are two different individuals and so you will think differently. You will not agree on everything, sometimes you may have to give up something, sometimes they might. Never expect the other person to do it always. Don't give them the you should love me as I am speech. Relationships mean that there will be some changes you have to make. It should not change who you are but you can't say that you won't budge an inch. If you were so happy doing only what you want without considering anyone else then you better remain single.

Thursday, December 3, 2009

Water thicker than blood?

Mumbai has been reeling under 15% water cuts that were imposed at the end of monsoons. For a long time residents had been complaining about how they couldnt get water at the top floors of their apartments or how the pressure was low. Its an open secret that there exists a powerful water mafia that has links to most political parties in the city. But ironically it is these same guys who come up with protests to show their 'concern' for the common man's problems.

First the BMC's ruling Shiv Sena took up the issue, trying to distance itself from the bureaucracy and claiming that they did not support the administration's idea of increasing the water cut to 30% and the resolution was rejected. (The lake levels at the end of monsoons showed a deficiency of 25% which the administration cited as the reason for imposing further cuts). Then in classic Sena style activists went and ransacked the office of the hydraulic engineer. The BMC was renovated just a couple of years back at an enormous cost but public property is everyone's property anyway. The Sena just fresh from an assembly defeat had to do something radical to assert their existence in their only remaining bastion in Mumbai.

But if there is a ruling party action there has to be an opposite and probably more spectacular action from the opposition. So Congress leader Nitesh Rane organised a massive protest march at the BMC under the umbrella of his NGO Swabhiman. Around 1000 people gathered outside the BMC premises carrying buckets and shouting slogans. The police had already somewhat anticipated the extent of the protest and had put up barricades near the BMC. But the unruly crowd broke through some 2-3 barricades in the city. The crowd was very agitated about the fact that while they got less water the high rises and commercial establishments got more water. There were people who told us that they received water only once in two days and that too only for half an hour. There were allegations of tampering, pilferage and unattended leakages.

While the issue was genuine, if you were at the location covering the protest, you would only see a bunch of drunk men who were shouting at the top of their voices and very few with a genuine concern for the issue. Many of us female journalists had to keep away because we were getting molested by the crowd. The crowd kept pushing against the final barricade and gave the 50-60 odd policemen standing there a hard time. After about two hours of the ruckus, the police finally resorted to lathi charge. The scene changed completely. Suddenly people were seen running for their lives.

Later we were told that one person died after the lathi charge. The minute the news spilled out, I saw many channels condemning the police action. Is there no value for a life? Demand for water gets blood and many other headlines. Yes, there is a value for every life. But what do you expect the police to do after trying to control a mad mob for around 2 hours peacefully? Had the police not lathicharged these people they would have got into the BMC office and then we would have seen the headlines crying is there no law and order in this country. While no death is justified, there is no method in a mob and sometimes striking back is the only option the police have.

And its not just protest marches, the mob mentality is visible every time there is a festival. You see the same crowd of drunk men shouting recklessly and trying to molest women be it Ganpati or Shab-e-barat. And if its a festival there is an even better justification for breaking the law - religion.

So what is an ill equipped police force supposed to do when a crowd that believes itself invincible threatens the peace of the city? Just sit and worry about political retaliation and villification by certain section of the media or protecting public property? The devil or the deep sea?

Tuesday, November 24, 2009

The storm after the lull

Piece originally published on our company website www.ibnlive.com/mumbaimemories/


November 2008 was a dull month as far as news was concerned. The week starting 24th seemed especially so. I was down with a bleeding infection in my leg, so finally on the 26th I decided to take the day off. It was such a lean day that another colleague also took an off and it didn't seem to matter.

I was sleeping under the influence of medicines when a source alerted about some firing in Colaba. Oh another mafia thing this must be, I thought as I forwarded the information to office and went back to sleep.

A few minutes later another source frantically called about some blast near Mazgaon. His voice was cracking with fear. As I scrambled to get more details, I felt a fear that this was going to be something ominous. Being from a small city, till now blasts and other mishaps were things I had only seen on TV. But suddenly it seemed that I was going to be out in the middle of something like that.

I feared that this could be more ominous. I called up office, though I didn't know what assistance I could provide as I was barely able to walk. I was asked to report the next day at the crack of dawn. A feeling of desperation that I couldn't get to work because of an ailment and also some fear as to what exactly was going on, kept me awake most of the night.

There had been firing all over. Two blasts. But it wasn't until the hotels were under attack that it was clear that this was something really big.

It was the storm after the lull.

The first thing I remember about the morning of the 27th was waking up to the news of Hemant Karkare's death. It was 4 in the morning and it seemed unreal. Just a few days ago while following another story I had joked about how Karkare seemed to be cagey now and didn't answer phone calls. And he was at that time the most talked-about officer. I rushed to office and my first assignment was to gauge the mood on the streets. Were people scared or were they going about their daily business?

Mumbai seemed virtually deserted that day. Never were the major roads so empty. And I remember being the only person from Churchgate to Mahalaxmi in the ladies compartment. It was eerily empty.

For the first time, the famed resilience seemed to have crumbled. People were not just scared but completely confused about what was happening. TV sets were blaring everywhere and people glued to them like they are glued when there is an Indo-Pak match.

The same night I was sent to Nariman House. South Mumbai residential areas are generally deserted on normal nights, but this day it was scary. As I tried to locate Nariman House several locals asked me to take detours through various lanes as the bullets were flying about. The area where Nariman House is, is a maze of narrow lanes and only someone who knows the area well could have found that place out. Even residents nearby didn't know that it was an Israeli centre. Finally I took position right across the house, near a bank whose windows had been shattered in the firing. We were very close and every time I turned to the camera, I would get this irrational fear 'What if a bullet finds its way close to us?' after all we had our camera lights on. But people of the area seemed to be unmindful of such fears.

At any point in the night there were around 100-200 people who were standing close to the spot, curious onlookers that the police had to fight off. There were atleast 50 of us media professionals too, from various countries scrambling for details, ducking bullets and ricochets and dodging off overly curious people. But there were also the locals who were coming at frequent intervals with tea and biscuits for the forces and media professionals.

Suddenly in the morning the police seemed to be acting strictly against anyone coming close to Nariman House. Barricades were being put up and drunk onlookers were being lathi-charged to clear them off the way. We wondered if some senior official or politician was coming to visit.

And then there was a whirring sound. After a night of scattered firing, the forces had decided on a final assault. A chopper started hovering over the building and there was deafening cross fire. We were going live with most of it though we were cautious about keeping the camera frame tight and moving constantly so that the exact location of the cops on ground would not be revealed. We tried not to give out numbers or directions. The onlookers cheered.

Standing there and witnessing the assault, one couldn't help but feel proud of our men in uniform. It was the most dramatic visual of the entire tragedy.

Yes the media was criticised a lot for airing it too. But I still don't have the answer to whether it should have been shown or not. TV is mostly about the here and now so one could say it could be shown, but there were other decisions, too, that could not be made in the 20-odd minutes while the helicopter air-dropped commandos. Those 20 minutes will stay with me forever, they were the first signs of hope that Mumbai though scarred, will overcome this too.

It took another day for all the operations to end and the hostages to be liberated. And it has taken us forever to try and forget the horror of what we saw then. But life moves on in Mumbai even as court trials and diplomacy take their own time to come to conclusions. A fragile fast-paced life, with no guarantees of what awaits you in the next moment - a lesson 26/11 taught me.

Monday, October 26, 2009

Frandship

In my online life of around 4 years, I have had many friendship and even more frandship requests. Here is a list of some of the names of the frands whom I thought I would do without. Enjoy and add your own :

1. lover_4_u
2. sexyloverwaitingforu
3. cool_(name or surname of person)
4. nightking
5. ruler of hearts
6. princeofdreams
7. handsome_boy
8. Love is life
9. raju reporter (guess he saw guide too many times)
10. loveme
11. Loveguru (yeah yeah)
12. dreams of u
13. awesome_abhi
14. hotvicky4_u
15. coolsameer_luv

And many more that more or less talk about how 'love'ly it would be to have them as your friends. Most of these are also accompanied by lines like 'I love your eyes', 'u hv prety smile' (spell check doesnt work for them), 'beutiful girl' and also once 'I want to be media man' (didnt know till then that networking meant this). So Sandy Balan and me got discussing about these names and we came up with some names for fellow Writer's Lounge members and friends if they ever went over the top and wanted to show off their awesomeness. Hope no one takes offence, this is just for fun. The first target of course is you all know who :-P

1. sensational_ste
2. hotste_rulerofhearts
3. MBA_romeo
4. freelance_boyfriend
5. dashingleo
6. P.S._Iluvu
7. lippy_cilla (personally I prefer the other suggestion sundar_cilla :-D)
8. Rapchik_Jawaani_RJ
9. giveme_more
10. dontstep(man)onmyheart
11. Tanman_4u
12. solitaryluvboy

Any other suggestions and additions please please add in comments section...also add in the weird ones you have got till now :-D

Thursday, October 15, 2009

सपना

कतरा कतरा तिनका तिनका जोड़ के एक सपना सा बुना था
तेरी आंखों में कहीं उसको छुपाया था
सोचा था पलकें तुम मूंदे ही रहोगे
ख्वाबों को कभी बिखरने दोगे
पर भूले थे हम कि रात तो बीत जाती है
और पलकें भी खुल ही जाती हैं
पर ख्वाबों की रातें अभी और भी
हैं
और सही तो
हकीकत को ही हम
ख्वाबों सा बना लेंगे