Waiting at the ‘Red’ signal

In spite of Sino-Indian relations having turned a tad acrimonious over the last few months, China’s

seemingly most important export to India, Maoism, seems to be flourishing. India’s home grown Maoists, control more than forty thousand square kilometers of predominantly tribal dominated land, and their continuous sparing with state authorities continues. This begs the question of Maoism’s relevance in today’s markedly different economic and social framework.

To answer this, we must first look at its effects in history. Let’s see how it went in China. Clearly it’s a 50-50 there. While some Chinese historians and sections of the intelligentsia believe that the

foundations of today’s strong and resurgent China were laid in the principals of Maoism, others dispute its positive effects in nation building. The ‘Great Leap Forward’, launched in 1958, left more than 15 million rural Chinese succumbing to famine while 1966’s ‘Cultural Revolution’ left a similar number dead and even more disillusioned. Mao left China in the worst possible condition, both financially and socially, only to be rescued by Deng Xiaoping’s free-market leaning economic reforms. In Nepal, the Maoists joined the political mainstream and won the elections, but their success as a credible alternative is yet to be seen. In Peru, the Maoists, represented by the Shining Path party are a condemned lot, for the perpetration of violence against trade unions, elected officials and civilians alike, and are regarded as a brutal and violent terrorist organization. So, Maoism’s record in bringing about social change and harmony isn’t particularly shining. Should, then, its relevance to democratic India be regarded as minimal at best, and its tenets banished as a romantic idea about self sacrifice and greater good, rather than a seriously workable theory?

Not entirely. The growth of Maoism in India has actually done the country’s democracy and economic policy a rather large favor. It has clearly proven that our nation’s fundamental doctrines are still evolving and are flawed in their current identity. While it has succeeded in uplifting millions from the clutches of poverty and indignity, it has completely ignored a whole other demographic from its purview. And this non-included segment, mainly the tribal aggregations of the forest belt, has served as a laboratory of expression for the Maoists. Years of state apathy, abysmal levels of government engagement and complete lack of developmental initiatives have left these people disillusioned, wary and in need of a voice. The ‘red army’ has filled this need. Crucially though, this voice needs to be listened to. While the violence should be rightly decried, condemned and even actively suppressed by the government, the focus on the greater picture must not be lost. These areas need as much attention and engagement from the state as do other parts of the country. Development opportunities are a plenty with scores of organizations waiting to utilize these natural resource rich areas. The government’s sensitive handling of these proposals will no doubt play a huge part and getting the locals to participate in the area’s development should be the right result. This, clearly, must be supplemented by immediate attention to social infrastructure and education.

Till this is achieved, our journey to being a truly pluralistic and inclusive democracy will remain indefinitely delayed - at the 'red' signal.

Cheers!

Abhishek.

Tiger, Tiger, Burning...not so bright?

Tiger Woods’ cupboard just doesn’t seem big enough, does it? More and more women seem to tumble out of it, only to spill sordid details of their illicit liaisons with the ace golfer to the highest bidder. The press and the media in general are having a field day in the process and laughing all the way to the bank. If it’s about anything even marginally striped, it appears to sell. In the melee, I am seriously half-tempted to claim a tempestuous relationship with Tiger myself, in a bid to make a quick and easy pile of cash from it all. I missed out on the property bubble and only the very imprudent would repeat their mistakes. Of course, as plan B, there is also my ‘I slept with Tiger Woods’ T-Shirt idea.

But in the end, my money making schemes will depend largely on the media keeping the story alive, the paying public’s continual obsession with celebrities. And though media memory can be short, the latter, as someone should no doubt tell Tiger, will almost always subsist. The media has done a bang up job so far, one has to admit, milking the story for all its worth. So is the trial by media justified? A lot of people ask if he really deserves this. After all, he’s a professional golfer, not a preachy clergyman. But all the advocates of the ‘leave Tiger alone’ andolan seem to forget that celebrity status, the very essence of the piece, is a many-edged sword. Didn’t Tiger sign up for this? Surely he couldn’t have been this naïve, so as to expect to be left alone by the tabloids in his moment of ‘personal sin’? Hero worship is welcome when things go well, and coverage should cease when transgressions abound? Champions are made of sterner stuff, na?Any number of celebs actively court publicity and attention when it helps their cause and strangely play the privacy card when it doesn't. They make a fat pile of cash from all the brouhaha, to boot. Millions of dollars were spent to cultivate the image of the perfect athlete, in

Tiger’s case. PR machines, celebrity consultants and corporate support were ever-ready and it all helped to bring home the millions for Tiger. Sure, we don’t need to print funny T-shirts, or even print juicy stories about him in newspapers and glossy rags, or pay his mistresses to divulge the good bits (and the not so good ones), but then, neither do we need to drink Gatorade, wear Rolex, and employ Accenture. To justify the billion dollar endorsement deals, there’s always the demand and supply argument, isn’t there? Excess media attention? Same same, not different.

While intense media scrutiny is admittedly part and parcel of public life, there are some lines that need to be drawn. I am in no way justifying some of the means that news reporters or the paparazzi use to get you the latest dirt. No hidden cameras and stalking please. We don’t want another Princess Di to happen. But, on the assumption that boundaries of decency, good sense and basic journalistic ethics are not breached, I see no reason for Tiger to complain about the excessive coverage his story is receiving.

So zip up, Tiger, and stop whining. The cameras will go way only when there’s a better story. And, in the meanwhile, if you find it amusing, I have this T-shirt idea…

This article first appeared in January 2010 edition of 'KINDLE'.

Cheers!

Abhishek.

Have a great 2010!

Seasons greetings! Here's wishing everyone a fabulous 2010 ahead. It's been a tumultuous decade, with the last couple of years being especially trying. But things aren't always as bad as they seem, and being a bit of an optimist when it comes to predicting the future, I'm sure things will carry on well enough in the coming decade...

Here's a few words from Outlook's Vinod Mehta on the year that went by and the need for a dash of temperability -

"Take 2009. We thought that the Satyam scandal would seriously shake international confidence in our prestigious and profitable software industry. (Our software industry continues to be a cash cow and is still universally admired.) We thought Varun Gandhi’s hate speeches would communalise the general election. (Nothing of that sort happened, no communal incidents took place.) We thought the stockmarket, having crashed, would never recover, leading scores of investors to suicide and the country to financial ruin. (The Sensex is currently buoyant and might soon hit 20000). We thought that the world’s first pandemic this century, swine flu, would result in mass fatalities. (The pandemic has blown away, less than 200 people in India died.) We thought the expulsion of Jaswant Singh for writing a provocative but boring book would mean disaster for the bjp and its extinction as a serious political formation. (After some hiccups, a fresh, young, eager team is in place; Mr Advani is very much around, and wonder of wonders, there is talk of Mr Jaswant Singh going “home”). We thought the entry of Barack Obama into the White House would usher in a brave, new world with the United States mending its ways. (President Obama is doing terribly and Uncle Sam, as visible in Copenhagen, has not changed his stripes.)

Cheers!

Abhishek.

The really tough Bollywood quiz - Answers

Here are the answers to the quiz which appeared a couple of posts ago -

1. 'Raja Harishchandra', India's first full length feature film.

2. She also suggested the names Jahangir and Vasudev.

3. V. Shantaram's 'Do Ankhen Barah Haath'.

4. 1950's 'Sangraam'.

5. Salil Chowdhury got Dilip Kumar to sing with Lata Mangeshkar in Hrishikesh Mukherjee's first film as director, 'Musafir'.

Cheers!

Abhishek.

Paa

Somewhere in Mahesh Bhatt's 1987 release, ‘Kaash’, Dimple Kapadia lets out a heart-rending scream when her teenage son passes away. She is joined in a similar show of grief by her husband played by Jackie Shroff. It was a high melodrama moment, and Bhatt pulled it off well enough, but in the end it was loud, a tad over the top and almost demanding of the audience’s sympathy. Refreshingly, for a similarly themed film, we are spared such moments in R.Balki’s ‘Paa’.

Nothing new about the story at all, but it’s the treatment that’s wonderfully disarming. Balki’s fascination with terminally ill children continues in this ‘dying-kid-reunites-the-parents’ plot and to mix things up, he uses a rare genetic condition (this is no ‘Taare Zameen Par’, so the disease is only incidental and we're spared lengthy sermonizing), Bachchan Sr. to play a small boy, sharply edited flashbacks and brilliant dialogue. And the final product is a warm, charming and heartwarming little film, almost a celluloid equivalent of the perfect cup of Darjeeling with an old friend, on a rainy day.

Amitabh Bachchan’s Auro is indeed the star of the film. With a new face, a new voice and a twinkling sense of humor, Bachchan’s Auro is as sensitive as he is precocious and the film’s writers leave all the best lines for him. And they work almost every time. Its Auro’s world that’s so enchanting, so much so that the film could have been entirely about his life, his school friends and his aspirations and worked just as well. But then they all say we need a plot.

So we have the parents Abhishek Bachchan and Vidya Balan, then both students, who find themselves at crossroads in their relationship, when they realize that they have a kid on the way. However, papa wants to be a cool politician and suggests abortion. Mama predictably tells papa not to preach and exits stage left from his life, saying, ‘I’m keeping my baby.’ Baby grows up to be Auro, and accidentally meets his father at a school function, thereby unwittingly paving the way for his long estranged parents to reunite. Weirdly enough, for a film advertised as a father son story, it’s actually the boy’s relationship with the ladies in his house, his mother and his grandmother that are more endearing to watch. Bachchan shares crackling chemistry with both Balan and Naag, as well as with the child actor who plays his best friend Vishnu.

But this isn't a perfect film by any stretch of the imagination. Abhishek Bachchan’s political machinations are distracting after a point and screen time devoted to his battle with the media is wholly unnecessary. An uneven Paresh Rawal, as Auro’s grandfather doesn’t add anything to the proceedings apart from a couple of funny one-liners. Maestro Ilaiyaraaja’s music, while soothing, could have been used to make more of an impact, the violin laden background score notwithstanding.

Cheerful, poignant, sensitive and intelligent, ‘Paa’ is great fun.

3.5/5

Cheers!

Abhishek.

The really tough Bollywood quiz

Here is something for movie buffs to chew on -

1. The premiere of which famous Indian film was preceded by a novelty programme which included Miss Irene Del Mar performing a duet and dance movement, a comical sketch by the McClements, a juggler called Alexander the Wonderful Foot Juggler and some comic shorts advertised as Tip Top Comics?

2. When Devika Rani was mulling over giving Dilip Kumar his first break in 'Jwar Bhata', she made it clear that his original name of Yousef Khan would not work. So she suggested three names, one of them being Dilip Kumar. What were the other two?

3. Much before India (rightly or wrongly) took pride over 'Slumdog Millionaire' going on an award winning spree at the Golden Globes and the Oscars, which Indian film won the first Golden Globe for India?

4. Morarji Desai, then the CM of Bombay, told Ashok Kumar, "You have to do two things Mr, Ashok Kumar. First you have to withdraw your film from the cinemas and this you must do tomorrow. The second is my request to you - please play the role of an honest police officer." Desai then banned Ashok Kumar's film after its successful sixteen week run, the film's only apparent fault being the portrayal of a bad cop by the film's hero, Ashok Kumar. Which film was this?

5. Much before the fad of getting heroes like Amitabh Bachchan, Aamir Khan and Shahrukh Khan to sing songs in their films, Dilip Kumar, sang his own song for which of his early films?

Answers soon.

Cheers!

Abhishek.

The perfect Calcutta meal?

Nondon Bagchi comes up with what he feels is the quintessential Bengali meal. Sample this article from The Telegraph -

"Apologies are a good way to begin just about anything. Having been asked to choose my favourite nine items from Calcutta’s food menu, I am sure there will be acts of commission and omission that will ruffle the feathers of many. There is every chance, given the amazing canvas of culinary bliss we enjoy without realising it, that this would happen even if I had to choose 99.

Before I begin, a few riders that have governed and limited the freedom of choice.

One. Even if I have enjoyed, for example, the most delicious Pan They Khowsuey, a Burmese-style gravy made of pork and with garnishings including shrimp powder, I have had it in someone’s home, so it can’t be on today’s hit parade. Just like so many other temptations not available at city outlets or even through caterers, and even if available, certainly not the best I’ve had.

Two. Despite having indulged in gluttony for decades, there are still delights I have not had the good fortune to have tried; there are some which I do not even know about, especially more recent add-ons to the city’s culinary scene. In a nutshell, today’s hit parade will have items that have been chosen from an extremely personal viewpoint, and they are also ones that have been around for decades. I am starting with starters and snacks, and, like a good Bengali, graduating from vegetarian dishes to non-veg ones and ending with desserts. With due respect for those who might grumble...

1. Phuchka

A symbol of Calcutta’s pride. Of course we think it is better than paani puri (Mumbai) or golgappa (Delhi) but so do many non-Calcuttans. My favourite vendor is Ramesh Pandit near Lake Kali Bari. Sublime is an understatement. Used to eat 33 of them for a rupee, and would even ask for one paise change. Some vendors sell humongous sized ones nowadays, but even the sacred phuchka has changed with the clientele. You can even find them on menus nowadays...

2. Prawn Cocktail

With the exit of Sky Room, the city also lost, arguably, the best prawn cocktail in the world. At least, as good as the best. Good enough to be flown to Delhi almost every week for Mrs Indira Gandhi. Sky Room’s secret must have been in the mayonnaise-based sauce. But One Step Up! on Park Street does a good job, and this piece of Calcutta nostalgia can still be a hit parade.

3. Paper Dosa

Named thus because the dosa is wafer thin and crisp, this is a humdinger with good sambhar and coconut chutney. Personally, I am easy whether there is a potato vegetable stuffing or not. Sadly, sambhar in Calcutta somehow just loses out to sambhar in Chennai, even though the cooks, ingredients and knowhow are from there. Must be the air and/or water. But Prema Vilas, Calcutta’s oldest south Indian place in Lake Market is my place for Paper Dosa.

4. Chop Cutlet platter

Not singling out one item here, because whether it is the mochar chop, deemer devil, fish roll, kabiraji cutlet or the moghlai paratha or any other item from this school of thought and taste, they all are winners. Created and invented by this city in a wave of inspiration, the egg-and-crumbed (or flour-batter-and-crumbed) thrillers can put you into orbit, especially with a good zingy mustard, courtesy Bubai Caterers of north Calcutta.

5. Chimney Soup

Takes me back to 1975 to Eau Chew Restaurant on Ganesh Chandra Avenue. Coal-fired chimney in the middle of a great trough filled with chicken stock, meat and fish balls, gizzard, kidney and other meat and other such goodies cooking in the bubbling stock. Break eggs and poach them in the stock, cook your noodles and greens in the stock, make your meal-in-a-dish and discover what life is all about. Eau Chew is still there, and so is their Hot Pot. Better to phone in and place an order.

6. Chitol Maachher Jhol

How come a Bengali has only one fish dish in the pop charts? Because we usually eat fish away from home with a bit of disdain. But this item, where chitol (featherback fish) is cut right across the mid-riff in one-inch thick steaks, rib-cage bones (almost as thick as chicken bones) and all, and cooked in a serious, thick, garlic-onion-ginger paste and tomato gravy, is almost never done in homes, and my first encounter was in a “pice hotel”. Today, you get a good version at Kewpie’s.

7. Kosha Mangsho

One can write an ode to this dish. My best is still from Shyambazar’s Golbari, which has had closures and reopenings, but is up and running right now and that should herald a winter of content. With their secret-formula chapattis which look as if they have only just been rolled out but not cooked, and yet are gossamer soft and done to perfection, Kosha Mangsho might even land you in a divorce case…

8. Gelato

With the advent of Mama Mia! and Italian-style ice creams (the real McCoy), there has been no looking back for ice cream lovers, even though the city has had a good track record with these, with some really good offerings. My top flavour is Forest Berries, with the gelato laced with a syrup containing mulberry, blackberry, raspberry and other potent fruits.

9. Mishti Doi

By Jadab Das. As I said, I am being personal. Mishti doi, available in thousands of outlets, has given rise to much debate, but Jadab Das near Triangular Park is my choice. Pure cows’ milk only, almost pure white in colour, a slight tang and so light and tasteful at the same time that I can put away 700g without batting an eyelid. Its non-rich texture also invites add-ons like warm gulab jamun.

A final note: Many, many dishes not included, including beef steak. Sad, because we have world-class beef in Calcutta shops. Maybe the steak I do myself?"

Cheers!

Abhishek.

Book review: The Story Of My Assassins by Tarun J Tejpal

For inspiration, Tarun Tejpal’s second novel, ‘The Story Of My Assassins’, draws heavily from his own challenging days at Tehelka, the defense-deal sting operation, communalism, the Bhagawad Gita (which seems to be every contemporary Indian writer’s current fetish) and Bollywood and it shapes up to be one heck of a rollicking read. It is a huge challenge to the reader, as it is continually disheartening, depressing and gloomy; offering no hope at all in the end, but by golly, a story of so much misery and hopelessness has never been this heartfelt, passionate, engrossing and beautiful.

The nameless protagonist, a journalist, is informed by the police of a foiled plot to assassinate him. Five suspects are rounded up, jailed and put on trial. But the journalist’s firebrand ‘social-reformer’ mistress, Sara, smells a government conspiracy and thinks that the suspects are victims themselves, victims of their own pathetic and degrading circumstances as well as that of the corrupt collusion between selfish politicos in power and the entire state machinery, which is twisted and turned for profit by the self-conserving political class. She decides, with the help of a couple of smitten lawyers, to investigate the matter herself. The action then serializes to the back stories of the five suspected assassins before closing in on the truth about the attempted assassination.

As we are taken through the lives of the five assassins, we meet our own countrymen that we never meet in real life. People who, like many millions of Indians, are born on the fringes, and silently die there. People who suffer the worst forms of degradation, poverty and state apathy. People who therefore either lose the will to live altogether or murder, kill, rape and steal for the most flimsy and insubstantial causes. People who have absolutely no hope, from the moment they are born to the moment they succumb to their wretched circumstances. The five assassins, Chaku, Kabir M, Chini, Kaliya and Hathoda Tyagi are all such people, each a victim of the everyday violence and horror of an India that exists outside the realm of urban sensibilities. Unlike Balram Halwai, these are no ‘White Tigers’, and in that respect ‘The Story Of My Assassins’ is easily the more definitive ‘other’ India book, even more so than either Mr. Adiga’s, Mr. Chandra’s or Mr. Swaroop’s. At one point, Chaku’s father hopes that his son’s birth will somehow uplift him from penury, but as Tejpal poignantly points out, “in the end it is always just one more mouth to feed”. While structured as a mystery thriller, this is in fact a simultaneously disturbing and moving social and human drama that deserves serious attention.

But this is not where the list of qualities ends. Tejpal’s characterizations deserve special mention. Each character in the novel is well etched, distinct, real and memorable. The feisty mistress Sara, the self preserving elitist and Kafka-quoting Jai (the protagonists’ business partner), the well meaning policeman, Hathi Ram, the protagonist’s spiritual counselor, ‘Guruji’ (whose oblique wisdom is as the same time confusing and enlightening), the typically wily, but drunk on ‘money-sex-power’ Delhi power-broker, Kapoor Sahib and indeed the selfish, almost nihilistic protagonist himself are all spot on. They all have their indigenous and quirky wisdoms. Sample this – when the protagonist asks the journeyman police officer Hathi Ram if he would like another cup of tea, Hathi Ram responds thus – “One cup is friendship. Two is intimacy. And that is always reductive. As friends we talk about big things, philosophical things and national affairs. But in intimacy we will talk about wives and bosses and the price of milk and vegetables, and we will become small men obsessed with small things. So no more tea, my friend, no more.” It is also to Tejpal’s credit that he manages to infuse a sardonic sense of humor into the proceedings, a necessary trait while dealing with a stark subject such as this. Almost every page offers something genuinely funny, which makes the reader smile and wince at the same time. While taking us through the early years of Kaliya and Chini, boys who grow up on the platforms of Delhi, Tejpal, incredibly, even manages to make death a subject of much mirth.

What Maximum City was to Mumbai, ‘The Story of My Assassins’ is to Delhi specifically and the Hindi heartland in general. Delhi is cut open and all its veins and sinews are opened for viewing, resplendent in all its colors, particularly red, the color of power and blood, and exposed as a city where the nexus of politics, religion, goons, money, industry and power is at its strongest. Tejpal’s observant eye encompasses both grandeur and destitution alike and brings the city, its people and their idiosyncrasies alive amongst the pages like never before in recent memory.

The only trivial objection one can possibly have with the author is that he takes on a multitude of issues, trying to deal with practically everything that is wrong with the country. But the final product still manages to avoid being flippant or preachy.

This wonderfully textured tour-de-force is easily worthy of your bookshelf and it is bound to get better with every subsequent read. India has many realities and here is a chance to look at the more ‘real’ ones, the ones which don’t get played out in ‘chutterputter’ English, the ones which get no media air time, the ones which make our country what it is.

Cheers!

Abhishek.