Of Heroines

My return to my esteemed University was amidst tremendous excitement due to a spate of 'sexual harrasment' accusations levied at some boys from my batch by a couple of girls. These boys are - and I say so without any misgivings or shame - my friends. And they did pass derogatory comments against the aforementioned women, for which they have been held accountable and demeaned. However, the comments passed if taken into account would reflect only their genuine feelings about the women and NOT Sexual Harrasment of any form; which in turn seems justified to me - retrospectively - if you take the women and their reactions into account. But thats just me.

However, this post is not to justify the misconduct of my friends or comment upon the lack of character and backbone shown by the female fraternity of NALSAR in general. The aforementioned incidents brought me to consider females I have admired and loved the most. Above are; from left - Grace Slick & Janis Joplin. Needless to say that it is their voice that just kills me. Grace Slick's vocal tremolos and Janis's raw energy and pain, always leave me holding my breath without realising. However, certain instances from their lives reflect certain characteristics in these women which I believe to be the only thing that still keeps me saying "chics can be cool". After all my faith in all I believed in and the people I carried affection for have been shaken brutely by Nalsar and it is in these times I look to my heros, rather heroines in search of hope.

To mention a few instances from rock n roll urban legend;
Grace Slick had once tried to put LSD into Richard Nixon's tea. Seriously. Further, in a 1969 Dick Cavett Show performance, she became the first person to say "motherfucker" on live television during a performance of "We Can Be Together" with the rest of Jefferson Airplane.
In 1971 she fought with her lead guitarist Jorma Kaukonen and challenged him to a race which ended in her crashing her car into the side of the Golden Gate Bridge. She sufferred a concussion and later wrote a song about it. Jorma and Grace remain friends till date. She's also been arrested several times for the crime of - as she believes - Talking Under Influence; the official records reflect arrests on charges of Driving Under Influence. She was well known for her sharp tongue.

Janis Joplin was less boisterous in terms of her behaviour in public, though her music is considered far too bold for her times. She was a white girl, singing black blues melodies, in an overtly rock n' roll market. But she sang with the kind of vengeful darkness that brought her instant success and recognition amongst black and white music afficinados alike. Summertime is an apt example of her approach to music in general. Summertime was a popular lullaby from a George Gershwin opera called Porgy & Bess. In the opera it is a father who sings the song to his infant child reassuring him of the life that lay ahead. However, anyone who's heard the more famous Janis Joplin version would agree that she didn't sing it to be a lullaby. On the contrary, I feel, its Joplin putting on a black woman's cynical sneer at her white counterpart. And the darkness and the confusion is rendered more potent by her being a white woman in reality. A white woman with a black heart.
To provide context the song was recorded by her in the album 'Cheap Thrills' in 1968 and contains the lines "Oh, Your daddy's rich; And your mamma's good lookin', So hush little baby don't you cry".

Its not surprising to me that these women became the voice to the pain, anger and frustation of an entire generation of disillusioned youth, comprising mostly of vagabonds and junkies - men of apparent despicable characteristics.
Pardon my sexist remark but I feel these women had balls. Metaphorically ofcourse. Maybe thats why I admire them so much. Cheers.

In Delhi

I am in the capital right now. Have been for a couple of days. Met many seniors and an old friend in the time I have been here. Also sat through an excrutiatingly lengthy and annoying interview. The only good reason for sitting for it would be the fact that I could catch up with so many old timers in Delhi with my transport being paid for - the interviewers provided me with air transport to and from here.

I'm tempted to say 'the things I do for love'; but I shall not. I leave tomorrow. I wish I didn't have to.

Old City & Hariprasad Chaurasia

Yesterday I ventured into Old City, after quite some time, a year at least. The Charminar area of Hyderabad along with its adjoining Mulsim dominated Afzalgunj and Nampally together form the areas collectively referred to as Old City. My destination was the Times of India Hyderabad Festival being held at Chowhalla Palace where Padma Vibhushan Sri Hariprasad Chaurasia and Padma Vibhushan Sonal Man Singh were scheduled to perform their Art.

Stepping into Old City lends one a romantic and subtlely unnerving feeling of being transferred to another world order. Especially under the seige of the lights and sounds of the evening waning into the night. Little scooters and other assortment of two wheelers scurry hurriedly amidst fissures existing within heavy traffic, the wrong way in narrow one way bylanes. Vision is granted by yellow bulbs put up by hawkers. Their wares too would put shopping malls in the most affluent localities to shame. After all where in these times would you find a pile of scarves for sale, with an image of Twinkle Khanna in the centre surrounded by loud embroidery. Most passing autorickshaws carried green flags and crude graphiti of AIMIM - All India Majlis-e-Ittehadul Muslimeen - the local party headed by Asaduddin Owaisi. Everyone makes it known to whom it is that they belong. No matter if you run a small pan shop or the brightest textile store in the neighbourhood. In Old City you still gotta serve somebody. Also I noted Cycle rickshaws on some streets. I had never seen cycle rickshaws outside Calcutta till date. These were not exactly the same though. Their passenger carriers were lower and closer to the ground below, and the wheels have a smaller diameter than the ones back home.

My friend and I reached Chowhalla Palace in time for the concert. We didn't have passes though. That however didn't seem to be a problem as most of the invitees seemed to have an excess of passes. Two such passing families provided us with our invitations. I must say I was a little apprehensive entering the Palace. Most guests had arrived in exquisite suits and sarees and in Mercs and Hondas. We on the other hand had walked 2 kms from the nearest bus-stop in dirty shirts, jeans and slippers. We were still allowed in without any fuss.
Pandit Chaurasia's performance turned out to be mindblowing. I had never experienced Indian Classical music before and even the atmosphere in the lawn surrounding the stage, where the audience were seated, was that of an utter ease and relaxation that I had never experienced earlier. Completely different from all live acts I've seen. You could see elderly couples shaking their heads vigorously to the taal and hold hands, and groove - if I may say so - to the music. The tightness of the performers on stage too was that of a different league. I was most impressed by the Pandit's tabla accompanist. He was like a raging demon, bellowing a throbbing and ebbing beat of chaos swirling around the stage, controlled by what seemed like a string composed of sound from Panditji's flute situated at its focal point. At its heart. Such sweetness juggling what seemed like an uncontrollable yet measured barrage of beats. I found it oddly disturbing yet exhilarating.
Pandit Chaurasia also seemed to have a keen sense of humour when he expressed his wariness about eating into the time allotted to the fiesty danceuse whose performanec was to follow his, upon him being requested an encore. "She' from Delhi....Maaan Singh (arms raised in animation)...thats why I'm scared you see". He finally relented to the audience's request saying "I'll play you a little peice of...uh umm...anything", then promptly proceeding to pick up his flute and sway away one last time. Stud.

I also sat through a bit of Sonal Man Singh's performance. She must've been really graceful, but I have never been visually very aesthetic. Her accompanying Sarod player was brilliant though. He also made me realise an uncanny similarity between Indian Classical musicians and Blues artists in the stringed instruments division. They both love to hear the notes bend. Literally. One of the most apt images of contentment in my mind is that of the expression on a musician's face instinctively and spontaneously appreciating a note played well. You should've seen the Sarod Master's face after every note he stretched to his instinctive satisfaction.
I also realised that dances are used to tell stories. Atleast can be. I had never witnessed a Classical Dance performance before, nor have I ever felt that I could actually 'understand' it. But on observing carefully, the first dance the maestro performed, seemed to me like an invocation of the different incarnations of the Goddess Parvati. The first one was Durga slaying the demon Mahishashur - this was easy, the accompanying vocalist repeated sholkas mentioning both Durga and Mahishashur - I could further make out other similar emulations of the Goddesses Kali, Bhabani, and Devi Bhubaneshwari.
However I soon got bored and left at the commencement of the second dance.

I also ate dinner at Shadab Hotel in Old City. If anyone has been to Hyderabad and not eaten at Shadab then they have lived a little less than those who have. There are very few things in life that I can say the same of.

Mumblings

The last post was probably too graphic and ought to have atleast carried a caveat of some sort for the weak hearted. My apologies. I don't know what brought it on. I was really tired and pissed off with doing what I was doing. Also I've been having very gory dreams and conversations of late. Its possible that it could be because of a fantasy novel I'm reading, where an impossible civil war has broken out and has cost the lives of thousands of civilians thus far. The author does well to describe the deaths at each battlescene.
Also I've grown extremely irritable of late, especially regarding academic affairs. I must check my impulses.

I was thinking about it, and it seems to me that I simply cannot partake of any activity that I do not feel like doing. I postpone, dilly-dally, even sit with it and stare at the screen before taking the umpteenth smoke break. But I always despise taking the plunge into something I inherently dislike. Five years at Nalsar has left me broken and impaired in this regard. I don't think I regret it though. Fits me fine.

I haven't completed my aforementioned project yet, but I've reached a stage where I know it'll get done. Now I mustn't act against my character and try to finish it quickly and submit it today. Anything to the contrary will cause further mayhem in my head.
I must chill now, blog maybe. A day's further delay won't make anything any worse than it already is with 2 days, the Jah willing - my word for some divine holiness or satan's agent that looks out for me when I'll need him the most. And its a 'He'. I guess it makes me feel less bad about not praying to 'Him' or keeping in touch with 'Him' except when I need 'Him' the most.

Now I shall go get myself a smoke.

Deathcab for Cutie (I couldn't think of a title for this one)

I've been called many mean things in this lifetime. I've also been called many good things so far - more often than the mean ones I must say, but we all know flattery gets around more than honesty - however, today my thoughts found the mean side of things to be digressed by.

Some of the more memorable mean things said to me have been arsehole (millions of times, especially in school), dildo (nearly became a psuedonym), loser, curses that include 'I hope the worst in life happens to you', to the most recent 'lying, slimy, cowardly fuck' with reasons being provided for the use of each word.

You must think I've really fucked with the lives of some people. I cannot extend any defense to this except that I've fucked with no one who hasn't fucked with me first.

Anyway this got me thinking regarding the villainous side to myself. As in if I were to be one of those heavily tatooed, bad guys with lots of eye-liner, what would I be doing? How badly could I be bad?

I've never had any daydreams about being an evil person, even though I fancy being one now. However, till date I've always wanted to be a hero. Someone who saves lives, especially those of pretty damsels. I've never dreamt of being say a killer. But in light of the recent appraisals I have recieved, I for once wished to kill people.

I thought about it and figured I could only kill for 2 reasons.

a) Intense Hatred

b) Vengeance

A close friend and I were discussing how to kill people, or rather what do we really want to do to the people we want to kill. I shortlisted 3 people that I would really like to see destroyed. In the first category there exists only one person. There's just one person I can say that I truly hate. Its this girl I used to know. I wish to lock her in a coffin, and bury her alive. The coffin shall contain enough air to last a few days and shall also have a microphone attached to it. The microphone shall be connected to my speakers where I can hear my prey wail though suffocation for hours. I'll record the screams for posterity, into a tape I shall call "Bitch's Moan". I only wish that even 7 deaths do not kill her, and she lies there wailing for all eternity.

In the latter category exists 2 males, both older than I. For one, who also happened to be my warden till a few years back, I have the most elaborate props in minds. I wish to construct a slide made of sharp razor blades and jutting out broken pieces of glass, atleast 100 feet in length, put at an apprpriate angle. Then I will proceed to strip him of his clothes and shove him down from the top of the slide. What he won't know is that the slide ends in a pool of antiseptic - Dettol - in which I shall let him remain till he goes numb with pain. If he drowns well and good, if he doesn't I'll shoot between his eyes, just in case.

The third is that of a senior from college. Haven't met him since his graduation and have not wished to meet him till I had this newfound desire to exact revenge. I do not wish to kill him. All I want to do is to string him up by his testicles, naked and upside down from a Banyan tree. Videotape him and put it up on Youtube. hah. Go fuck yourself now big boy. Bastard.

*I'll title the video 'The Hanging of The Man'*

Haaah. I feel strangely relieved and physically tired. I have to return to my paper on Telemarketing and Consumer Law which is 2 days overdue; from which this monlogue was but a mere break. I have strong reasons to believe that prolonged formal education has brought out the worst in me.

Cheers and if anything is found offensive, then they have been inserted with such intent.

Condoms in the News

Yesterday's newspaper - I was reading Times of India for a change - had an article upon the Papal visit to Cameroon, Africa; with an adjoining photograph of the Cameroon First Lady kneeling before him. The Pope had come under severe criticisms from Social Organisations around the world prior to his visit to the Aids ridden continent, due to his anti-contraception stand. He believes that using condoms is against the will of God and is not an appropriate mode of fighting Aids. The German and Fench Governments have respectively issued statements denouncing the Pope's comments. The Pope however, still visited Cameroon yesterday and reiterated his views on matters contraceptive before an overtly devout Catholic, Aids ridden populace. Yesterdays reports says that now even "insiders" of the Vatican feel that "he's (the Pope) is not in touch with the real world".

Damn.

In other news, the UK Government's "sexy" condom campaign has sparked a row amongst the British Intellegensia. The Ad-campaign launched by the Brit Health Minister Dawn Primarolo - tell me I'm not the only one who thinks her name sounds like a pornstar's - which has cost the Government over 5.2 Million Pounds is reportedly labelled "Condom confidence boosts sex appeal". It also says "men like nothing better than a woman who knows what she wants" to encourage the women to be carrying condoms. Personally I like anything that saves me money, so I guess in a way they're right.
The campaign is supposed to have recieved support of various liberal women's activists. A writer from Cosmopolitan magazine, Sarah Headley supports the campaign as she believes carrying condoms should be perfectly natural like carrying phones, keys and purse.
However, the British Conservatives - whoever they are - have blasted this campaign as encouraging 'promiscuity'. Julian Brazier, introduced as a Conservative lawmaker states, "the problem (of STDs) starts with growing levels of sexual activity by people with multiple partners". I'm tempted to say no you moron, but I am too ignorant on the same to comment. What I don't get is how awareness regarding condom usage, going to increase promiscuity. I mean, are people who generally don't go around being promiscuous, going to turn into sexmaniacs overnight thanks to an ad campaign? Or will promiscous people, especially teenagers - I hate to refer to people like that, I have no problems with anyone's promiscuity or lack thereof - now be better of thanks to the Government actually making something worth using, seem natural and cool?
Ektu flummox.

Of World Leaders

Around the time I started this blog, the world was caught up with the ongoing McCain-Obama electoral campaigns. Basically the world had gone gaga over Obama. I was in Bangalore during the month of November, 2008; and could then spot many Bangalorians sporting T-shirts in support of Barack Obama. At first I didn't know how to react, I mean I don't think I cared enough to react. A bunch of people going bust and now they all need a new saviour. Well God help their saviour, is the most I could come up with.

A close friend of mine decided to visit Bhutan around the same time. He was accompanying a delegation of Indian Bureaucrats and thus had access to elaborate tours and sightseeing plans in Bhutan. It was a call from him that got me interested in this small Himalayan country. I learnt that it had recently - November 6th, 2008 - crowned its new King, the youngest monarch in the world at 35, King Jigme Khesar Namgyel Wangchuk. Druk Gyalpo, the 5th Dragon King.

On reading further on him, I found that his accession to the throne was marked by him taking on the responsibility of overseeing the democratization of his country. In fact he went on state in his coronation speech that "to make democracy work was the challenge before the Bhutanese people in the next decade". His first task as the new King was to travel to different parts of Bhutan to speak to its civilians, especially the youth, to convince them to accept democracy as the furture for governance in Bhutan.

I have a few batchmates from Bhutan and recently I had asked them about their opinions regarding democracy. Most of them believe it to be an inevitability under this King, however wish it were not so. King Jigme Singye, the 4th Dragon King, had slowly industrialised his country building roads and adequate infrastructure, while also ensuring that the masses reaped the benefits of the same. He had infact coined the term "Gross National Happiness" and had used the same to get his point across at the United Nations meet. Bhutan is not a part of the world free trade community - infact for foreingers other than Indians, Bhutan charges a daily fee equivalent of $100 for each day's stay in Bhutan- nor does it plan to open its economy completely. Bhutan's greatest potential industry is tourism and yet it maintains severe restrictions on outsiders entering the country. It does not wish to exploit its beauty, thereby leading to its ruin. My friend informs me that Bhutan is pristine and beautiful, and so are its women. Apparently only women serve alcohol at Bhutanese liquor stores, which are found alongside every grocery store - just, random input.
Anyways, the new King is determined to see his father's initiatives through. It was his father who started the democratization of his country by first introducing limits to his own absolute power. The new King now officially governs with the advice of a democratically elected cabinet.
The people of Bhutan are scared that their good kings will be replaced by corrupt politicians as in their neighbouring countries such as India.

There are good times and there are bad times. What kind of people, or even what kind of system shall allow for the maximum welfare is something about which one may argue to no end. However, after much thought, I have come to the conclusion that the answer to the aforementioned questions, lies with the seeker. Its not 'who can save the world?' thats important. Its about 'who can save you?' or 'what can save you?'. The best part is you get to decide.
Some people are born into roles and both Obama and Jigme Khesar were born into their's. This is not to judge either, but just to take your own personal pick. King Jigme is my pick to save the world.