baali

Phantasmagoric India – 08: Bangalore, Karnataka

Finally, a comic. I hate to go black and white but it is so much faster. I start my new schedule Monday and I’ve got my fingers crossed that there will be more time for comics.

For the happy version just continue the sequence until you get back to panel 1. (Why isn’t this the version I made in the first place?)

गद्दी चरांदा भेडां,  गद्दन देंदी धूपां, गद्दी जो देंदे भेडां, गद्दन जो देंदे रूपां This song when translated into English sounds something like this; ‘The Gaddis feed their flocks; the Gaddis offer incenses (to Lord Shiva)  To the Gaddis He (Shiva) gives sheep, And to the Gaddinis beauty’  काँगड़ा – धरमशाला – पालमपुर -चम्बा के [...]

This week, our editors dove into the archives to find and rediscover notable posts published this year on WordPress.com, from nonfiction to poetry, and photography to illustration. These posts have been especially resonant to us and the community, and represent the diversity of voices of our users all over the world.

An Open Letter to the Girl I Pretended to Have a Crush On in Eighth Grade at Rottin’ in Denmark

You were the first girl I pretended to have a crush on so no one would know I was gay. I didn’t intend for it to happen, for it to be you, for it to be so easy. But it did, and it was.

From the opening lines of his epic open letter to Tracy Dolan, Michael Hobbes at Rottin’ in Denmark mesmerizes readers with his sharp and thoughtful storytelling, describing his strategy for surviving adolescence as a gay teenager. At 5,787 words, Hobbes’ letter is a longer piece to savor, and captures what it’s like to grow up, to fit in, and to ultimately find yourself. A favorite on WordPress.com this year, the post was well-received elsewhere on the web, including Longreads.

When Your (Brown) Body is a (White) Wonderland at tressiemc

She is playing a type of black female body as a joke to challenge her audience’s perceptions of herself while leaving their perceptions of black women’s bodies firmly intact. It’s a dance between performing sexual freedom and maintaining a hierarchy of female bodies from which white women benefit materially.

Scholar Tressie McMillan Cottom caught our attention this year with her incisive, critical think-pieces on race and class, and her commentary on black female bodies as amusements parks for white people — in the context of Miley Cyrus’ carnival-like performance at the MTV Video Music Awards — is worth reading. We recommend tressiemc for thought-provoking discussions on culture and sociology, period.

Collaborating With a 4-Year-Old at The Busy Mockingbird

The whimsical collaborations of Mica Angela Hendricks and her four-year-old daughter at The Busy Mockingbird were a huge hit this year: think snail and mermaid-like creatures with oversized human heads, or the tie-wearing manimal in the forest, above. Looking at these illustrations, you can’t help but smile.

The Pixar Theory by Jon Negroni

Every Pixar movie is connected. I explain how, and possibly why.

Jon Negroni’s wildly popular post detailing the Pixar Theory is completely entertaining and imaginative: he lays out a working narrative that connects all of Pixar’s movies into one cohesive timeline. From Brave to WALL-E to A Bug’s Life, he weaves a grand theory involving this animated universe’s key characters, and the result is a fun journey for both die-hard Pixar enthusiasts and film lovers alike. (We chatted with Jon this fall about this post’s popularity and the growth of his blog — check it out.)

Reporting for Duty, Sir at Paving the Road Back

Even as he displayed that puckish smile over and again, he also displayed a certain resolve, a certain protector-warrior sense, even if only in glimpses, that reminded us all — that reminded him — that he was still ready for duty, ready to assume a role that he loved, ready to face again, if necessary, a violence that would perhaps destroy him, but that would not — would not — destroy those whom he loved.

Rod Deaton is a psychiatrist with an extensive background working with military troops and combat veterans. His blog, Paving the Road Back, offers a glimpse into the work he does, as well as the lives of the brave men and women who’ve served the US military. Always crafted with care, his stories are poignant, like this post on “Ethan,” who became hooked on opiates after suffering a traumatic brain injury while serving in the Middle East.

Documenting Syria by Russell Chapman

Earlier this year, freelance journalist and photographer Russell Chapman spent time in Syria, talking to people from political, military, and humanitarian wings of the new Syrian opposition about what’s happening in the region. Russell’s photographs offer a glimpse into this war-torn landscape; the image above features FSA fighters in Aleppo.

27 Nights at What Happens to Us

I read your journal, she finally said.

I read the part where you questioned whether you had chosen the right twin? Where you wondered if we made love in the same way?

In this contemporary tale of dating and relationships, David at What Happens to Us writes about a man torn between two twin sisters, Kara and Kendra. While we don’t want to give anything away, we’ll say David has a strong, original voice, and he keeps us glued ’til the end. It’s an intriguing introduction to his fiction — we can’t wait for chapter two.

My Penis Girl by Gendermom

“Mom, I think something went wrong when I was in your tummy, because I was supposed to be born a girl, but I was born a boy instead.” He wanted me to put him back in the womb to right the wrong. He was sobbing.

Gendermom chronicles the joys and challenges of raising M., her five-year-old transgender daughter. In “My Penis Girl,” Gendermom recounts how M. knew early on that she was a girl, and describes her initial concerns as a parent before finally “letting her boy go.” Her site is an inspiring example of how bloggers can build supportive communities and an outlet for those rearing a transgender child.

On Geek Versus Nerd at Slackpropagation

Both are dedicated to their subjects, and sometimes socially awkward. The distinction is that geeks are fans of their subjects, and nerds are practitioners of them.

Popular culture, statistics, and social science intersect in scientist and software engineer Burr Settles’ discussion of “geek” versus “nerd.” From analyzing Twitter data and PMI statistics, he explains how these two terms — often viewed as synonyms — are different. Are you a geek or a nerd? Read it to find out.

Vintage Social Networking at Wrong Hands

Canadian cartoonist John Atkinson created this light-hearted cartoon commenting on social media, online publishing, and the internet of today. It’s well-done and spot-on (and we love seeing WordPress right in the middle, among all these social tools).

It’s Just Sex, Dammit! by Dorkdaddy

There are a thousand things necessary for a successful day and a successful life. Balancing the checkbook. Reading to the kids. Visiting your parents. Maintenance on the house. Laughing. Resting. Playing. Growing. Learning. These are the things of life. These are the things that determine whether we are fulfilled, whether we are successful in life. None of them require intercourse. And yet still we venerate sex as the ultimate goal in life, as if everything else is just a way of occupying time between sexual interludes.

At Dorkdaddy, a father documents his misadventures in raising three children, as well as interests in pop and geek culture, from superheroes to games to fun in all shapes and sizes. We love this candid discussion about our fascination and obsession with sex, and the pleasures and troubles it brings.

Western Desert Journey, Egypt by Quintin Lake

Photographer Quintin Lake wowed us with his stunning images from Egypt’s Western Desert. From the surreal tent formations in the White Desert to the ripples captured in sand dunes, Quintin’s snapshots are truly jaw-dropping. His passion for architecture inspires his work, which lends an artistic, geometric feel to some of his travel photography.

Sorry Sylvia (Plath) by Simon Kindt

Could you imagine this Sylvia?
That this is what we would do to you?

That high school teachers
would keep dragging you out of the ground,
and laying your bones out for inspection,
looking for symptom,
and signifier,
pretending like we could ever know
what you looked like on the inside of your skin.

Simon Kindt‘s poem on Sylvia Plath touched many readers, conjuring many images and thoughts: young minds learning to read poetry, piecing together a life from the words one has left — so precious, yet not enough. As you read, you might also feel pain or misunderstanding, or perhaps feel that spot within yourself that only poetry can touch.

The Knuckle Sandwich Epiphany at How the light gets in

It was in that moment that I finally recognised my childhood ambitions for the fantasies they were. I had never been cut out to save the world through passive resistance.

The Sydney-based writer and illustrator at How the light gets in will win you over with quirky stories and drawings; we enjoyed this offbeat yet charming post about coming of age in the 1980s, and all the awkwardness and uncertainty that accompanied it. From an original point of view to visual narratives, this blogger has the elements to tell great stories.

Tracks at Without an H

Photographer Jon Sanwell documents daily life in Southeast Asia on his blog, Without an H. His portraits of people, urban and street shots, and countryside landscapes from Vietnam and beyond are lively and full of vibrant colors. We love all of his photo collections, and especially enjoyed these images from a Hanoi neighborhood that lies along the train tracks.

We’re thrilled that so many talented writers, artists, and photographers call WordPress.com their online home, and that all of you use this platform to express yourselves, far and wide, across the globe. We look forward to reading you in 2014 and hope you continue to share your ideas and stories with us, wherever you are.

Want to read more editors’ picks of 2013? Dive in now. If you love reading the freshest picks and most-recommended reads on WordPress.com, sign up for Weekend Reads, which we’ll deliver to your inbox monthly.

Filed under: Community, WordPress.com, Writing

 

It all started with a call from Vipul saying that he was planning to do a walk in Matunga with a few friends on Saturday and that he was inviting me to join in.

I knew Vipul through the Finely Chopped Walks. By his count, he has come to 6 of them. His love for Mumbai and its food is infectious and very evident on his twitter handle @sporty_baba. In all the walks, regardless of where we were, Vipul always talks of the central Mumbai locality of Matunga and of his love for it and the food there. Which is why when Vipul offered to do a walk there a few Saturdays back I readily agreed. After all there is nothing like discovering a locality and its food through the eyes of someone who loves it.

So we met on a Saturday morning  a few weeks back and there was Vipul all pumped and ready to start. Through the morning he kept us enthralled with stories of his beloved Matunga. Of how Matunga was apparently set up by the British after there was a big plague in Mumbai and why it was therefore relatively well planed. That the name Matunga came from the fact that it was once the resting grounds of the elephants of a king based in Mumbai and that ‘Matunga’ derives itself from the name for elephants. He spoke of the cosmopolitan nature of the suburb which is also considered to be Mumbai’s mini South India due to its South Indian residents, temples and of course its plethora of South Indian Udipi restaurants.

Matunga is famous among food lovers in Mumbai for its many South Indian restaurants. Driving down to Matunga for a South Indian breakfast is quite the Mumbai weekend ritual. The only ‘problem’ when you are faced with so many restaurants is deciding on where to go and what to order. That’s where it made sense to have Vipul guide us. Vipul used a cricketing analogy and said that the ‘strike rate’ of Matunga is such that you will never have a bad meal wherever you go and that they were all quite easy on the pocket. He of course had his favourites and took us to a few of the places which were more around the Matunga Central station than the ones on the main road near the circle. So we skipped the Madras Cafe and Mysore Cafes and Idli Houses. We didn’t do Rama Nayak, the thali place, as Vipul said that a Rama Nayak meal is a meal in itself and cannot be paired with anything else.

So what is it that makes it to the top of Vipul’s Matunga list?

Our first stop was Arya Bhavan. A small two storeyed restaurant with the upper floor air conditioned. There was a small queue to get in and we got a seat in the upper section which was earlier full of foreigners with DSLRS and big lens getting their fix of Matunga. The mood fairly idyllic inside on that Saturday morning. Vipul’s orders were fresh fluffy idlis, some dunked in sambar while others served separate as I prefer the latter. There was khichdi like bisi bela bhaat and the little fried vadas called paneeraams. All light and easy on a still slumbering and barely awake tummy. A breakfast which eased one into the day.

Next stop was Ram Ashraya, a busy cavernous place with a long queue to get in.

The deal about Ram Ashraya according to Vipul  are the sheeras or sweet semolina puddings. There is the constant, pineapple sheera, which I found quite nourishing and maternal. Then the special of the day, the black currant sheera which the others in the group liked but I found to be a bit too strong and sweet. With our sheeras we had our first filter coffee of the day. I couldn’t be on a South Indian walk and not have a dosa so Vipul ordered a Mysore onion dosa which was packed with flavour and crunchy. The sambhar here was slightly cloudy and creamy compared to that in Arya Bhavan. We also had an interesting rasam vada where the sharp taste of the rasam and the chillies in the vadas where an electrifying counterpoint to the sweetness of the sheeras.

We then stepped out and walked past a shop called Quality where Vipul said South Indians come to buy their fix of filter coffee.

Then past flower shops and a South Indian temple we walked to the beat of Vipul’s Matunga tales till we came across a small shop called Amba Coffee Club where Vipul said we must absolutely try the coffee.

We walked in and ignored the sign asking customers to keep their silence. The others were obedient though and gave the place a feel of a library.  Stuffed we tried to have a bite of the kadi vadas and pesaratu dosa which Vipul ordered. Pesarutu dosas are made from green moong I think and the  taste of the pulses were quite prominent here giving it a certain raw freshness.

Yes, the coffee at Amba Bhavan had a kick and was sharper than the ones we had had at Ram Ashraya.

We stepped out and ambled to the circle, absolutely stuffed. Past Rama Nayak, Udipi, Cafe Mysore, Madras Cafe, we were too full.

We did have a last stop though. Health Juice Centre. A juice bar and sandwich shop in the lines of the more famous Batchelorrs and Haji Ali Juice Centre. Vipul and a foodie friend of his who joined us swore by Health Juice centre and we all shared some pretty thick and energy packed pineapple, strawberry and sitafal juices and milk shakes. We were now full to the brim and ready to head back.

Vipul had often told me about what he often said was his inexplicable love for Matunga. That morning each one of us shared and felt Vipul’s love for Matunga love.

PS That’s Vipul, the Sporty Baba, as always in a sports jersey in the pictures below

In the average Indian’s memory, a year is remembered by the one landmark event that occurred in that year. 2011 will be the year that India won the World Cup at home.

It was around that time, timed perfectly after the World Cup that the Anna Hazare movement began.

I was skeptical of it from the beginning.

 

I was skeptical of the campaign for a variety of reasons. Personally, I don’t agree with the method of fast-unto-death. I’m sure it was what Gandhi used, but in the hands of a lunatic, it is a dangerous method to employ. Also, it is the lazier way out. Instead of working towards something, you sit on your ass all day like a cry-baby till someone hears you out.

And having read up on Anna’s methods in the village Ralegaon Siddhi, I was of the belief that the means are as important as the ends.

 

*

 

The best part about being a student, is not having to pay monthly rent. The second best part is that you can spend quality time on Facebook.

Around the year 2011, Facebook rose above the other sites that the average Indian surfed. The word ‘Social Networking’ was thrown around – giving it an important feel. Showing us that being on Facebook was more profound than stalking girls, and adding ‘Turn Ons – Lightning’ on Orkut.

 

I spent hours debating about topics, made a few friends and pissed a few people of.

On why I didn’t support the campaign, and why it was mass emotional masturbation, and it won’t really lead to anything constructive if we go on candle marches. You can’t change a political situation by protesting, I said, it has to be institutional.

I also wrote a blog on my views. And it was around this time that I realised that a blog is more than just an online journal. That people are affected by the written word.

 

Since I was on the other side of the fence, Anna Hazare was easy to pick on. He suggested methods like hanging the corrupt, and beating up people who drink alcohol. But when people asked me what I thought of Kejriwal, I had no answer. Kejriwal stayed away from the rhetoric, and was spending time giving lectures and asking youngsters to vote.

He spoke about going through an institutional method than an emotional one.

 

*

 

It’s been two years, and much has happened since the time Anna Hazare went on his fast, and Baba Ramdev wore a salwar-pyjama, complete with a white dupatta. There was the Delhi Gangrape, Tendulkar retired, Tejpal’s career came down in a lift, films released and earned 100’s of crores.

And quietly, Kejriwal was going about his business.

When he floated a political party on October 2^nd last year, I remember thinking ‘Better late than never’. He also gave it a spectacular name. The name Aam Aadmi Party is a masterstroke in two ways, as a bureaucrat I work for pointed out to me. Firstly, the Congress won it’s last two terms on the plank of the ‘Aam Aadmi ka Party’. They won’t dare repeat that this time. Also, political parties that have long been dynastic dens, will think twice before claiming to work for the Common Man. Also, the acronym adds up to AAP, making it a party that belongs to YOU.

 

And who could have thought of a better election symbol?

Not since Harry Potter did a broom have such an immense impact on people! The image is loaded with meaning, and leaves no doubt about it’s intentions!

Come to think of it, the other election symbols don’t really convey anything. What does a right hand mean? And a lotus? Or worse still, a bicycle. But a Broom; now that’s a masterstroke!

 

I watched on, following the party through their activities – being accused, and accusing, organizing rallies, calling the government corrupt, going about the motions.

 

 

And somehow, Anna Hazare seemed to have problems with Kejriwal. Personally, I am glad Anna isn’t a part of the Aam Aadmi Party – his means being unconstitutional, and his pull being an emotional rather than an institutional one. The fallout between Anna and Kejriwal proved that this man was fine with going separate paths from the biggest crowd-puller.

And through the campaign, there were three things that Kejriwal did differently:

 1.      Candidates:

Instead of a bunch of morons who came out of the scrotum of another politician, the Aam Aadmi Party fielded candidates who were enthusiastic, were from the middle or lower middle class, and who did not need to have police protection behind them – twisting the concept of a neta on its head.

 2.     Issues, not Emotions

This was perhaps the most heartening. For the first time, there was someone talking about bijli, paani, and sadak. I am sick of politicians talking about communities, about regions, and picking at each other.

Rahul Gandhi seems like the spoilt Headmaster’s son, rambling about whatever comes to his mind. Modi, whose campaign began on the development plank, spends more time criticizing the Congress – like the bully of the class.

Amidst such cacophony, were people who were going from door to door, speaking to people about things that really matter. Ram or Allah will not come to your house and give you electricity. They have bigger issues, even though I cant see what they seem to be doing about it.

 3.     Manifesto

For the first time, there was some thought being given to a manifesto. The party had customized manifestoes for each of the constituencies – picking issues that affected the local people – instead of a please-all, VegFriedRice-PaneerButterMasala sort of solution.

 

The other thing about the Aam Aadmi Party’s campaign was for the first time, I was witnessing an entire campaign revolving around issues, and nothing else. For all of Modi’s erudition, and Rahul Gandhi’s bluntness, one always gets an inkling of references to caste, religion and region. Here, there was no mention of any such thing.

And then, it was time for the battle.

 

*

 

Now, the best part about being a cynic is that you’re never disappointed.

If something happens, you can simply shrug your shoulders and say, “I told you so!”. I waited to see what would come of the entire exercise.

So when I saw the results of the Delhi Assembly elections, it was hard not to sit up and take notice.

To get a realistic feel of what the victory means, have a look at some of the candidates who won this time.

 

80-year-old, four-time Congress legislator, Chaudhary Prem Singh, who had not lost a single election over the past 50 years in his Ambedkar Nagar constituency, was defeated by AAP’s new entrant Ashok Kumar by 16,000 votes and ended up in the third spot.

Kumar was followed by BJP candidate Khushi Ram Chunar who lost to him by a margin of 11,670 votes.

AAP candidate Rakhi Birla defeated four-time Congress MLA and Public Works Department Minister Raj Kumar Chauhan by a margin of 10,585 votes in in Mangolpuri.

Three-time winner, Congress candidate Veer Singh Dhingan was beaten by Dharmender Singh of AAP by a margin of 11,976 votes.

In Bawana, AAP candidate Manoj defeated last assembly poll’s winner Surender Kumar of Congress and won against Gugan Singh of BJP by 25,639 votes.

Prakash from AAP also made a record of sorts by garnering maximum votes from Deoli constituency (51,646) defeating BJP (34,538) and Congress (26,140) by huge margins.

Manoj Kumar of AAP also wrote history by defeating Congress party’s heavyweight candidate, MLA Amrish Singh Gautam in Kondli.

He also beat BJP candidate Dushyant Kumar Gautam by a margin of 7,490 votes in Kondli.

Source: Economic Times. http://goo.gl/S0VkSp

 

This could be Beginner’s Luck, of course.

Also, I understand that replicating something like this on the national scale is a different ball game. It’s true that in a few years, there will be some black sheep in this party too.

But what Kejriwal achieved on 8^th December shows that it is possible.

 

Aam Aadmi Party’s success needs to be spoken about. And hailed.

To float a party, appoint newbie candidates, campaign for issues, and beat the biggies in their game.

Aam Aadmi Party might not go on to become a major political force, but it gives one hope, that it is possible.

 

So for all the hatred, and the snide remarks I passed. And all the supporters of Anna that I called morons and dimwits:

Here I am. I have taken off my Kavacha and Kundala. And I bow down and fold my hands and say.

“Good job, mate!”

Brené Brown is a professor at the University of Houston Graduate College of Social Work. She has dedicated her life to social work and studies vulnerability, courage, worthiness and shame.

Her fantastic 2010 TEDxHouston talk, The Power of Vulnerabilty, is one of the most popular TED talks with over 12 million views and led to Brown giving the final speech at a 2012 TED conference. That speech, Listening to Shame, is where the above quotes are taken from. Turns out Brown and I both love the same Teddy Roosevelt Man in the Arena quote. It’s literally the second quote I ever adapted into a comic (although it was posted as number 8) and remains one of my favourite quotes. In her speech, Brown tells of how that quote helped her during a difficult time amidst her own failures and setbacks (around the 12min mark). The fact that she references a quote I’ve already adapted in her own inspirational quote gave me the chance to get meta again and give a nod to my long-time readers who would recognise the first part of the comic.

RELATED COMICS: The Man in the Arena, Nature Loves Courage, The Fig Tree, Ultimate Self-Help Book.

- Brené Brown’s official website.
- Thanks to Mike, Saquib and Cynthia for sending me the TED talks.

Two months ago, 13-year-old Kusum volunteered to give a talk at TEDx Gateway in Mumbai. Franz had been invited as a speaker, but wanted to pass the opportunity off to one of the girls to talk about Yuwa in her own words.

I explained to Kusum that there would be over 1100 people in the audience and that thousands more might watch it over the internet. The other speakers at the event would include some of the most passionate, intelligent and driven individuals in India. And her talk needed to be English. Kusum’s English is good… but she still has a long road ahead before she reaches fluency. She has never read a chapter book in English.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” I asked, after showing her some TEDx videos online.

She hardly paused before looking at me with an expression that clearly said: Well, duh.

For 6 weeks leading up to the TEDx event, Kusum and I worked together on her speech. We talked about what details to include, what was important for people to hear, and what fundamental message she wanted to share with everyone. She wrote her story by the light of kerosene lamp. Kusum’s family had electricity installed in their mud house last year, but power is spotty in villages.

After several drafts and revisions, Kusum created a hard copy of her talk. In less than a week, she had it memorized. She practiced in her home in the mornings and in the evenings, in front of her family and friends. She practiced in Yuwa English class and on Skype for my family. She practiced with Franz shining a giant flashlight in her face, to simulate the stage lights. She practiced with a microphone at Jharkhand’s World Toilet Day Event to an audience that wasn’t actually listening. 

Time for TED

We flew to Mumbai several days before the TEDx event to meet the other speakers and rehearse on stage. Kusum navigated a swanky cocktail and dinner party wearing a Yuwa track-suit. She carried around a martini glass of juice with a glowing ice cube and made casual English conversation with adults from around the world. I thought she might get tired or bored after a few hours. She didn’t. She talked with a man who recently became the first Indian in the world to circumnavigate the globe, alone, in a sailboat. It took him 150 days. She introduced herself to an Israeli composer, an acclaimed wildlife conservationist, a 15-year-old who has constructed a 3-D printer, the founder of a micro-enterprise development bank, a National Geographic photographer, and a woman who’s revolutionizing interactive museum technology.

Kusum leaned over to me and commented very seriously, “Everyone here is interesting.”

Over and over again, Kusum was asked if she was nervous for her talk. Again and again, she said she wasn’t. We found out that her talk had been scheduled as the last of the day; the organizers wanted her to be the grand finale. 

Raising the roof

Franz took to the stage first to introduce Kusum. He described how in the past year, since the trip to Spain, Kusum and her teammates have become youth icons. They have been featured in every national newspaper, a myriad of magazines and news shows, and acclaimed by Bollywood stars like Shah Rukh Khan and Priyanka Chopra. We’ve estimated that in the past few months, their story has reached over 200 million people in India. 

Why is the story of the Yuwa girls so compelling? The struggles Kusum and her teammates face are shared by hundreds of millions of women and girls in rural India. Their struggles are not unique. When the girls of Yuwa confidently share their stories, they give voice to millions more who are not heard. Their triumph over the odds is inspiring.

“Kusum and her teammates are leading a movement of girls who are fighting for and finding their freedom, one football practice at a time. Ladies and gentlemen, my Indian super power…girl power…”, Franz began, attempting to refer back to a Marvel Comics executive’s speech earlier in the day that referred to a new female Indian superhero, “whatever she is, Kusum Kumari!”

Franz gave her a high five as he walked off the stage, and Kusum walked into the spotlight. The audience went wild, making Kusum wait, smiling calmly, for at least 20 seconds before beginning.

“I am Kusum.

I am 13-years-old.

I’m from Jharkhand.

I want to tell you how football changed my life…”

She shined. Her delivery was flawless and her voice never faltered. Although the auditorium was packed, I believe her when she said she really wasn’t nervous. Although I couldn’t see it from my place in the front row, many people were tearing up throughout Kusum’s talk. I was one of them.

The climax of the talk came when she delivered the following observation:

“In Spain, I saw that girls and boys were the same. There were no differences. Girls went everywhere that boys went, even at night.  [Big cheers and laughter]

“They did everything that boys do. I thought this was very good. [Big cheers]

“I want to feel free like the boys!”  [Audience went wild]

When Kusum came to her conclusion, the audience leaped to their feet and gave a rousing standing ovation, as if they had been waiting on the edge of their seats for their cue. The auditorium was a roar of sound. Kusum stood in the center of it all, beaming.

Back to the village

Weeks before, in preparation for TED, I showed Kusum a video of Malala Yousafzai’s speech at the UN. She was impressed by the story of Malala and excited that a girl was advocating for girls’ education; something Kusum wants to promote as she gets older. I pointed out to Kusum that her own story and her own TED talk held the very same message… and that she too was already reaching thousands of girls.

On the way back to Jharkhand in the airport bookstore, we bought Kusum her first chapter book in English: I am Malala.

As we went through the airport security, a female airline pilot approached us with the enthusiasm of a teenage Bieber fan. She explained that she had flown in from Delhi for the TEDx event and had been extremely moved by Kusum’s talk. As the pilot was speaking, a security attendant approached us, curious about the celebrity attention being given to this young girl, and asked the pilot who she was. The pilot smiled broadly and replied,

“It’s Kusum!”

I will post the video of Kusum’s TED talk when it comes online. In the meantime, you can read the text of her talk here.

Want to support Kusum and her friends? Click here!

Most films are reviewed shortly after they’re seen. I watched The Lunchbox a week ago. Four mind-numbing exams later, I still feel compelled to write about it.

A woman inventively cooks her husband’s lunch. In a serendipitous error, Mumbai’s dabbawallahs deliver it to the wrong person. He polishes it off. She catches on, and encloses a note in the next day’s dabba. He writes back. She writes back. And so on.

Why do two strangers confide in each other? What is the nature of their relationship? Do they ever meet?

I failed to recognise Irrfan Khan in his first scene. The camera slides past a row of desks and helpfully stops at one. I knew he would appear then. But so credibly (and incredibly) does he inhabit his character that you feel you’re watching just another government employee at work, who for some reason has been captured on tape.

In Honeymoon Travels Pvt. Ltd., Boman Irani was spot-on as the affably eccentric Christian widower. In The Lunchbox, Irrfan Khan portrays the diametrically opposite Saajan Fernandes – a widower and a Christian, but grouchy, gloomy and taciturn. With Maqbool, The Namesake, Paan Singh Tomar and this film, he has earned his seat in the pantheon of acting gods.

Nimrat Kaur smoulders in her performance as neglected housewife Ila, who wants to believe that there is more to life than her humdrum existence. The angst in her face as she struggles to revive her middle-class marriage is heart-wrenching. I could scarcely believe that this is the same woman who sits in her car and licks chocolate in the Silk ad.

And who knew Nawazuddin Siddiqui can make you laugh? Cast against type as a chatty and ingratiating novice, his Shaikh is the perfect foil to the shortly-retiring Fernandes. He is the graph against which you plot the latter’s metamorphosis. He’s scintillating.

The average viewer’s twin desires to relate to a character as well as forget his own life for a while, are usually contradictory. Addressing the themes of urban loneliness and the delightful anonymity of correspondence, this movie fulfils both. Scenes such as Ila’s loud conversations with the unseen Aunty living upstairs and Shaikh chopping vegetables on office files in the train are unforgettable.

Rare is the film that straddles independent and commercial cinema. With producers as disparate as Anurag Kashyap and Karan Johar, it is evident that The Lunchbox started as a small film that went on to tug both heartstrings and purse-strings, getting it the wider release it deserves. Not since Aamir Khan made Dhobi Ghat have I felt grateful to a producer, of all people.

I urge you to watch The Lunchbox. In a theatre, or whenever it’s released on DVD. I have no moral authority to reproach anyone for streaming movies online, but you must realise that this film must make money. Then, and only then, will more such films be made. And maybe someday, art will be accepted as entertainment, and the art will come back into entertainment.

* * *

Rahul-ji

Sonia-ji

Damad-ji

Advani-ji

MMS-ji

Official Congress stance

NDTV

IBN

Outlook

Tehelka

Nitish Kumar-ji

Delhi cocktail circuit

Teesta-ji

Modi fanboy

Internet “Hindus”

Modi-ji

It is undeniably heartening to see the response Modi has got on being chosen the PM candidate. Heartening that probably for the first time, someone from humble origins has come up to the top, waving a massive middle finger at dynastic politics. That there is someone whose main platform is development.

However, the frenzy on social media seems a little hollow, and half baked. He might have stellar records to back him up, but to speak of him as the panacea for all troubles might be a little too far-fetched.

And it is perfectly understandable why he makes the intelligentsia uncomfortable.

1. Polarised Opinion: Ever since Modi has been in the reckoning, the entire political discourse in the country has been reduced to a dogs vs. cats sort of argument. You are either a right wing fundamentalist, or a pseudo-intelligent, pseudo-secular Congress stooge.

Well, sorry to break it to you. But there are others too, you know. Those who are sickened by dynastic politics and yet might differ from your opinion. Those who want a sane discussion without being reduced to either one of the categories. The space for sensible dialogue has vanished. The Congress calls him Rambo. And Modi’s supporters say Amartya Sen is not Indian because he has a foreign wife. It’s all become a terribly off-putting farce.

But it is difficult to even put across a point to Modi fanboys, because they will hear none of it. You have to be able to slit your wrist, take some blood, and apply it as a tilak on your head, or you are a Congress supporter, or a Communist.

A polarised discussion leads to nothing, except Arnab Goswami fapping away with pleasure, looking down at us lesser mortals.

2. Media Bashing: Another favourite pastime of Modi fanboys is to diss the media.

Yes, I understand that our nation’s media does not blow our minds away on a regular basis with its sensitivity, but isn’t it a little hypocritical?

Much of the hailed ‘revolution’ that has occurred in the last few years, has been primarily because of the media. The Anna Hazare campaign was promoted by the media, the media hounded the government on scams, and also had a major part in the push for justice in the Delhi gangrape case.

Also, much of Modi’s allure is because he handles media very well. Every speech of his is covered live by news channels, and even his speech in Hyderabad, where BJP has little presence, was beamed to the entire nation.

Also, the media has even made up facts, as shown during the Uttarakhand floods, knowing fully well that there will be gullible morons waiting to believe everything thrown their way. Also, when Modi was declared PM candidate, NDTV (which is spoken of as a sister concern of the Congress) flashed a banner asking people to send him wishes. Surely that’s not ethical, right? But why bother when Modi is being praised.

But God forbid, if the media reports anything against the guy, or so much as carries an opinion of a person who feels that the earth doesn’t revolve around Modi, god save them. They are damned Congress supporting pricks who probably party in Delhi with the crooks, right?

Very mature.

3. Bottom of the Pyramid:

Skewed statistics or not, Modi has undoubtedly succeeded in being able to use development as a political plank. The business class, the people of Gujarat, and people on Facebook are convinced about his abilities as a leader.

But governing a state and the entire country are two different things. While Modi’s popularity among the social media-savvy crowd of the country is unquestionable, there are no real statistics on his popularity outside Gujarat, in the lower middle-class sections of the society. And it’s an undeniably large number.

Also, most urban youth in the country don’t actually vote.

Here’s a look at the urban voter turnout in our top metros in the last municipal elections held there:

The game clearly lies in the rural and semi-urban belts. The biggest challenge for Modi would be to convert his popularity into people who cast their vote.

So instead of preaching on Facebook, how about you actually go cast your vote this time?

4. The big Muslim question:

There, I said it.

It is funny how if you simply say the word Muslim while discussing politics, people will growl at you and begin calling you names. I find it a little derogatory the way Muslims are discussed. It is always about secularism, or vote bank politics. As if Muslims are not normal people who might also want better amenities, better governance, and the same bloody things that a Hindu might want.

Now, the reason why media houses hound Modi with the same question, is because it is stunning to see someone as obstinate as that. Everytime he is asked about the Godhra riots, the channel is accused of being a pseudo-secular.

Firstly, no one is asking him to admit his guilt. But as the leader of a nation with multiple religions, would it cost the earth to even give a word of assurance? To express regret at what happened, and to assure that it won’t happen again? As the leader of the nation, isn’t that a tiny bit of what you’re supposed to do?

Another baffling explanation that is given is the example of how Congress caused the Delhi riots. What is this, a checklist? If they caused the riots, shouldn’t you aspire to be better than them? If you accuse them of playing the minority card for votes, are you being any different here?

But no. Try explaining this to a Modi fanboy and watch as he reduces you to an Android. Complete with the green suit and all.

5. The dirty coalition politics:

While the UPA had it better off with only four major allies, the NDA is a motley crew of parties who are as dependable as Rohit Sharma when it comes to keeping the government afloat. More alliance members means greater instability at the centre.

And since it is far fetched to imagine that a Shibu Soren might be having the benefit of the nation in mind, it will mean a terrible tug of war in four directions. Exactly the kind of thing that would make the industry high five itself and do a somersault in pleasure, eh?

Vajpayee had to resign as Prime Minister for the first time after 13 days, and the second time after 13 months, following which the NDA successfully remained in power for its full term. Modi’s challenge will lie not only in getting to the top post, but keeping it tight up there, by fostering a strong bond among the alliances.

But like I said, there is only so much one can trust parties like Jharkhand Mukti Morcha.

6. The Ugly Tangle of Religion:

As someone who abhors religion becoming a part of politics, I find the unholy tangle that the BJP is a part of, a little unsettling.

Much of the BJP’s actions are determined after consultation with the RSS and VHP. It is baffling how a religious organisation could have a say in politics when they do not even contest elections. But sadly, that is how it is.

Mention this to a Modi fanboy, and it will quickly be sidetracked, and you will be smothered with statistics and investment figures. Because nobody wants to talk about it.

And keeping the RSS and VHP aside, there are other smaller organisations that don the saffron colour to push their agendas. Bajrang Dal, whose members tick off February 14 on their calendars to have some fun. Sriram Sene, whose members beat up women from entering a pub. In Ranchi, girls wearing jeans could have acid thrown on them. How is this progress, again? Or change?

And with all the criticism against the UPA for being soft on terror, has Modi said anything about the Bajrang Dal? Members of the organisation have been involved in bombmaking on more than one occasion, even accused of planting bombs. How are they any different from terrorists? And organisations like Bajrang Dal and VHP are directly a part of the Sangh Parivar, which is the guiding body for the BJP.

Agreed that Islamic terrorism is a worldwide threat, but is this a comparison game?

If Modi really is the man for progress and a fresh thought, will he be able to distance himself and his party from its religious links?

Look at the amount of intolerance for films and film festivals, books and literary fests. And this is perhaps why most intelligentsia is against Modi. Not because they are people with low IQ, but because the rise of religion in politics means a direct threat to their work and lives.

And I would have said the same thing even if we were a Muslim country and someone coming to power meant more mob control for Muslims. It is a dangerous trend, mixing politics and religion. It is how elections in Pakistan are fought.
If Modi really has to impress me, he should be able to fight off the stranglehold that religious groups have over his party.
So there you go, those are the reasons why I am not orgasming over Modi, yet.

I hope he can prove me wrong on all the counts, and I would be his biggest admirer.

But till then, I don’t want to buy that Modi mask. Thank you.

Take a train from Lower Parel to Mahalaxmi. Gaze out of a west-facing window. You will spot the tall black chimney with ‘Shakti Mills’ painted down its edifice. It towers over the picturesque ruins of my city’s industrial history.

You will wonder what the crumbling columns look like from within. One monsoon evening, when their overgrowth appears irresistibly lush, you will want to enter.

Last week, a twenty-two year old boy and a twenty-two year old girl, did.

For years, I’ve wanted to take my photographer friends there. We are all twenty-two years old. One of them is a girl.

*

 We were walking back from New Delhi Metro station to our hotel nearby. On a whim I still cannot explain, I walked behind my friend, instead of beside her.

In the next twenty minutes, I observed her being ogled by seventeen men. Including two policemen.

To describe what she was wearing would defeat the purpose of this post. Fortunately, we were part of a group, and reached our rooms quite safely. I remember thinking then – this won’t happen in my city.

*

Our Fresher’s Party ended late that night. In a bout of chivalry, I volunteered to accompany my friend in her train back across the city to Vasai.

She had a first-class pass for the entire route; I didn’t. To avoid the crowd, she boarded a ladies’ first class compartment. I boarded a second-class general one.

Gradually, the train emptied out. And for fifty minutes, I, her supposed protector, twiddled my thumbs in my compartment, completely unaware of how she was faring in hers.

When we alighted at Vasai, I felt very silly. We laughed about it then, and we’ve laughed about it ever since.

It doesn’t seem laughable anymore.

 *

As usual, we worked on the project in college until eleven. Usually, we’d take one of the last trains home, and her parents would pick her up at Parle station.

That night, her parents were not in the city. Her brother came to pick her up instead.

No one found it absurd that the person deputed to escort her home was of school-going age. He was male, and that was security enough.

 *

Another night. Another train. Through a window in the partition, my gaze meandered to a young woman seated in the ladies’ first class.

There was no one else in her compartment. Why is she travelling alone so late? Doesn’t she know enough to be careful about certain kinds of men?

She noticed me. Her expression changed. A strange man is staring at me. There is no one nearby.

She shifted herself out of view. For her, I’m no different from the men I wished she’d be wary of.

*

Don’t take that route. Don’t enter that area. Don’t wear that dress. Don’t come back that late.

Don’t.

One half of my city’s people – locals and migrants, old and young, rich and poor – don’t feel safe here. This is not my city anymore.

Reclaim my city. Take back the night.

* * *