October 2, 2007

Saw a newspaper ad by Union Bank of India on the occasion of Gandhi Jayanti. It read:

"Thousands of roads may be named after him. But how many walk the path?"

An interesting sight

A dog waiting for his turn to cross the road at the sion hospital signal.

Have you ever seen a milkman sleeping?

I saw him.

Mere zindagi ki ek purani hasrat aaj puri ho gayi!

Scenes at a Sale

Two Schools and a Market Opportunity

I have enclosed images of 2 schools in a village called Chikan, in Pijore - Haryana.

One is a secondary school, while the other is a kindergarten school.

One lacked basic infrastructure while the other had limited infrastructure.

I spoke to a few parents and students in the vicinity and nobody really cared about the inadequate infrastructure. They said they were there because of
1. Their lack of choice
2. Availability of teachers!!!

I always have heated arguments with my friends about giving precedence to the quality of infrastructure as much as quality of teaching. I do sincerely feel that good infrastructure can act as a strong motivator to increase student intake and decrease drop out rates.

Looking at these two schools, with happy students and parents, despite of inadequate infrastructure and average quality of teachers, I realize that the problem is more complex than as envisaged by me or my friends.

There needs to be a model that can work, since the demand is so high and consumer expectations are so low. An ideal scenario for any corporate to get excited.

Wonder what would make the Government excited? Can they create an ONGC, Indian Oil, Hindustan Petroleum, State Bank of India, BSNL, in the education sector?

There is one Verghese Kurien waiting to happen in education.

Hope he arrives sooner than later.

Why do I write?

Orhan Pamuk's Nobel acceptance speech:

"For me, to be a writer is to acknowledge the secret wounds that we carry inside us, the wounds so secret that we ourselves are barely aware of them, and to patiently explore them, know them, illuminate them, to own these pains and wounds, and to make them a conscious part of our spirits and our writing.

I am asked- why do you write? I write because I have an innate need to write! I write because I can't do normal work like other people. I write because I want to read books like the ones I write. I write because I am angry at all of you, angry at everyone. I write because I love sitting in a room all day writing. I write because I can only partake in real life by changing it. I write because I want others, all of us, the whole world, to know what sort of life we lived, and continue to live, in Istanbul, in Turkey. I write because I love the smell of paper, pen, and ink. I write because I believe in literature, in the art of the novel, more than I believe in anything else. I write because it is a habit, a passion. I write because I am afraid of being forgotten. I write because I like the glory and interest that writing brings. I write to be alone. Perhaps I write because I hope to understand why I am so very, very angry at all of you, so very, very angry at everyone. I write because I like to be read. I write because once I have begun a novel, an essay, a page, I want to finish it. I write because everyone expects me to write. I write because I have a childish belief in the immortality of libraries, and in the way my books sit on the shelf. I write because it is exciting to turn all of life's beauties and riches into words. I write not to tell a story, but to compose a story. I write because I wish to escape from the foreboding that there is a place I must go but – just as in a dream – I can't quite get there. I write because I have never managed to be happy. I write to be happy.

John Maeda

John Maeda is a Prof at MIT. He teaches design.

Here's his blog: http://weblogs.media.mit.edu/SIMPLICITY/

During my stint at Harvard, I was keen to attend his courses.

Somehow, it never happened.

His blog is interesting and a must read.

3 boys and a bicycle

I was waiting to pick up Ira from school.

They had one bicycle between them. Each one of them wanted to ride it. They tried to fit in together on the bike, but found it impossible to move.

So the two sat while the third ran after them pleading for his chance to sit.

It barely lasted for a few minutes, but took me back by a few years...30 years!!!

A/C v/s non-A/C

I saw him at a signal on Linking Road. It was a hot and humid day. He was sweating and driving a truck. He kept peeping into the black Toyoto Innova next to him. What was he thinking?

I saw him and felt guilty of my own A/C Ford Fiesta. I asked my driver to switch off the a/c for a few minutes. It felt like hell.

Saala...just a few years back (1995, to be precise), I was travelling in local trains and BEST buses. As a Management Trainee, I used to come to office drenched in my own sweat. One day an NRI girl in my office, who I used to closely work with, suggested that I wear a perfume to work.

I remember how I, standing on the BEST bus footboard, used to peep into the plush a/c cars (mostly zens and esteems) and feel the urge to just get into them. I could feel that frustration once again, when I saw that guy peep into the Innova.

Thanks man. I wish and pray to god to make all trucks a/c as soon as possible.

The Wheels of Life?

Wheels. Thats all I saw when I started clicking on the busy streets of Ranchi.

Wheels is what you see in Mumbai and elsewhere too. But wheels powered by tired legs? Well, not many places on this earth can one experience such desperate means to survive life.

Martin Luther King once said - "Change does not roll in on the wheels of inevitability, but comes through continuous struggle. And so we must straighten our backs and work for our freedom. A man can't ride you unless your back is bent."

A colleague told me that once he decided not to board a rickshaw puller's hand cart since he looked very old. The man shot back to him: Agar sab log mujhe budhha samajhe ke nahi baithenge , to main khaunga kya? (If everybody decides not to board my rickshaw because I am old, how will I survive?)

What a shame guys...!!!

Some more of Calligraphy Art

My college mate Milind Soni wrote to me that I should keep continuing with this hobby. He was one of those who was as keen as I was in calligraphy then (1989-93). I am sure he too has lost touch.

Anyway, here's more of my work and also some pics of the material I have used to do it. Dropper, Cotton as also ear buds!!

My new hobby

I got interested in devnagri calligaphy in 1987-88 when I saw Achyut Palav (www.achyutpalav.com) at a workshop. I was awe-struck by his skill.

Soon I was immersed in learning the craft on my own. I bought calligrahpy pens and within a few months became expert at it.

All my college mates (especially girls) were impressed with my talent and in return I used to make greeting cards for them for every possible occasion!! However, post my graduation in 1990, I lost touch with this art.

When I shifted my residence, I saw an old paint brush and m sketch pad lying in the unpacked luggage. I sat there and painted a few drawings to frame them on my new walls. That was in 2003.

Now a few months back, I was re-connected to this art by some strange coincidence.

However, this time I decided to use new tools for creating a different form of calligraphic art. So I started with an ink dropper and made a few drawings - like the first one.

Later I experimented with cotton dipped in poster color and used to paint letters as can be seen above.

When I do calligraphy or figure drawing, I get into a 'zone' - its magical....the hands, the fingers, the colors...everything works in perfect balance and coordination.

Mahatma Gandhi - A Father Who Failed His Son

I saw Gandhi, My Father today.

Its a moving film about a busy father, a neglected son, and a mother who is torn in between. Harilal Gandhi, son of the great Mahatma, dies like a beggar in a Government hospital, 5 months after the death of his father. The movie takes the viewer through the trials and tribulations of a son who longs for his father's love and patronage.

Harilal is different from his father. He is sensitive and weak, but honest and passionate. He has an imbalanced personality - like millions of us in this world. Unfortunately, he is born to a father who is a perfectionist - and in a hurry to achieve his goals. While he understands his son's longing for his father's love, affection and ownership (partiality, to be precise), Mahatma Gandhi chooses to deliberately ignore it for his principles.

The possessive son, being weak and sensitive, is so hurt and outraged by his father's neglect, that he decides to get back to him in whatsoever way possible. In his own way, Harilal wants to teach his father a lesson - by being a disobedient son and a blot on his fathers, otherwise spotless personal and professional life.

The image above is one of the best moments in the film. A ragged Harilal comes to the railway station to see his mother. He gives a fresh orange to her and requests it to eat it herself, without sharing with her husband. As usual, Gandhi, very politely, requests Harilal to join him in his freedom movement. Harilal rudely refuses to do so and tells his dad that he is what he is because of his mother - Kasturba Gandhi.

As Harilal says this, the train starts moving and the assembled crowds start shouting Mahatma Gandhi Ki Jai. An annoyed Harilal roots for this mother and keeps shouting - Kasturba Gandhi ki Jai!! His voice, however, and as it has been, is lost in the crowd.

Akshaye Khanna and Shefali Chaya are outstanding. Akshaye's performance is one of the best I have seen in Hindi Cinema. Darshan Zariwala as Mahatma, is unable to withstand Akshaye's acting prowess.

Go watch it.

In Dino...Dil Mera...

Soham Chakraborty's haunting voice in the movie Life in a Metro is outstanding.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q3D2CQsfcFo

In Dino... is one of the most beautiful compositions emerging out of bollywood after a long long time...

The song takes me back to those days when I used to feel a tingling sensation in my heart watching Madhuri Dixit (Tumse Milke...) in Parinda or Juhi Chawla (Aye Mere Humsafar...) in QSQT.

He He He....

Kolkata!

Sitting in an A/C car on a rainy day in Kolkata makes you feel ashamed.

People say Kolkata is surrounded by poverty, but I sensed something else. I sensed that Kolkata is about Kolkata's gritty survival - despite the poverty.

On a rain soaked day, across flooded streets, I saw poor people nonchalantly going ahead with their routine work.

No compaints, no cribbing, no nothing.

Kolkata left a powerful impact on me.

BTW, the pics are blurred and watery. I have taken them from my car, sitting nice and pretty. I realise now that the pics, in a way, also speak of the typical urban indifference to poverty.