Confidentiality of rape victim

Yet again a girl has been raped in the so-called 'safe' city, Bombay, alias Mumbai! Guess if some incident occurs frequently it means a few things. Firstly, there is something drastically lacking in the very systems & structures - here its primarily secuirty, law & order; more so self-control & respect for a girls / women. It also means the safety of women in the city has fallen down drastically. The secuirty i mean the whole city. Who is secure? Can anyone of us claim to be? I really don't think so.

It also means that there is some sort of sanction or sniggering approval for such violent acts. Because so many are silent & tight lipped when such incidents occur. Somehow the hypocrisy of the Indian society gets thoroughly exposed. Yes, because the men folk can roam around late at night, they can be arrogant, forceful & flaunt their sexuality. But if women even remotely show similar attitude, they are termed as 'fast' women who deserve the consequences. The very faith they have in the system is destroyed, rather crushed to bits...

Last week an American Indian student from a social sciences college went out with her female friend for drinks. The whole episode till here & thereafter has many a loophole. Was there any breach of trust between these two? Why did this girl go out with 'friends' of her female friends. so on so forth is now coming out. I have a question. Do we not trust our own friends? Do we distruct every person we meet? I travel alone, i interact with people and its interesting what one can see around. I don't drink with strangers except close friends, this is a rule. On tour or travel i restrict myself to only a glass of beer. Plus a BIG lesson, NO mixing drinks...However this has been soemthing i have been able to stick with come what may. Sometimes like in this case of Ms R things didn't go her way.

She couldn't resist the forceful men. They forced her to drink, offered her LSD marijuana ciggie, etc...a lot is being said of what she could have done. I know one thing i can imagine is she could have just shouted out for help. Would she have got it i can't vouch, it would've at least put some pressure on the horny males with her. Poor child, a lot of mixes happened & eventually she landed in a huge personal, emotional & physcial trauma - she was raped.

But as if this wasn't enough. She had the courage to go to her hostel officials & tell them. They went to the hospital, police station, underwent all tests, etc. She filed a 'First Information Report.' Now this is supposed to be CONFIDENTIAL. Interestingly, the media in India has become very 'investigative.' The editors more pushy. so according to what my colleagues told me many news organisations & people had been given by the police the copies of the FIR.

The FIR is a real weapon for the victim. That is also confidential a document. Also if a journalist gets the copy of an FIR, one is NOT supposed to reporduce it verbatim. Here we had an over-excited tabloid newspaper male reporter who went ahead & published all details. Every action that the poor child could remember was described like a D grade sex film! Readers were subjected to the Gory details...instead of publishing the excerpts from this FIR, the whole darn paper was reproduced.

It was the most disgusting & repulsive piece of journalism i have read or seen in modern times. I sincerely believe such journalists should be castrated or flogged...Not for once did the bloody editor of this tabloid stop to think she is a woman & how she is encroaching upon a vulnerable, already shattered girl's privacy. Every word was published as if the reporter & the editor had relished & enjoyed every word that was printed on their paper. It nauseated some of us.

I did write to the network for working women journalists, asking us to file a suit against this third rate paper & its editor, especially since she was a woman. Pathetic is the situation in India i feel. To what extent will journalists go to get a story. In Our paper the bosses acutally pulled up the crime team for 'missing' out on this story. I want to ask do editors forget they too are humans. We all have women in our households. Would we allow something to be written abt any woman or girl we know in our private life? We owuld mover every stone on the way to protect that girl's relative's identity.

Why then do we not follow the same rule? Why do we not do things we'd expect others to follow? The paper failed in its very commitment to send the message of the incident to the masses, or readers. Instead it tantillised the readers, it made them curious and more so it perpetuated false perceptions of girls & women. This piece of tabloid journalism actually made people talk ill about the victim. Except for her name they had gone to town with every detail that the honest victim had recorded with the police.

It definitely brings us to the roles of ; living & suffering in a patriarchial society. The boys are being made out to be 'poor' boys, 'misled inccocents' "who did not rape but only gave the apartment to rapists." Even to know a rapist is a scary thought. How can men go beyond to help him. It is scary...The police first need to go inside the jail. Plus write ups about them need to come out more openly. The editor got her due. The women's organisations from the city went to that newspaper's office & they actually lodged an FIR with the azad maidan police.

We all suppoted this protest. I do hope this makes the editors, journalists realise the true meaning of 'confidentiality & it breach.' i only hope people use the same parametres for others that they will like to use for themselves.

Meeting former 'killers' - meeting with few soldiers of Khmer Rouge bastion

Chamcar Bei village

As a journalist I have met some amazing people from even more amazing backgrounds. Ranging from police, administrative or civil servants, judges, politicians, world leaders, extremely creative people, killers, gangsters, murderers, social workers, ordinary people doing great work...Around the 17th/ 18th of March our Peace fellows group travelled 4 hours from Phnom Penh on a visit to the once bastion of the Khmer Rouge regime. Chamcar Bei is the village.

Rugged, surrounded by forests, it is no wonder then that the Khmer Rouge found solace in that tucked away area, protected naturally from getting hounded from any side. Today there is more civilisation and it is NO wonder. As part of our studies we were to look at, rather analyse the re-integration model. The former Khmer Rouge soldiers were integrated in the Royal Thai Army & in the villages with other Cambodians, as part of the amnesty programme.

In this Chamcar Bei village we sat among villagers who were killers & perpetuators of violence! They were once Khmer Rouge soldiers. These people were being helped by a NGO -Bridge across borders, to help the villagers to adjust, rebuild their lives & become an united Cambodia.

However the fact is there are simmering differences & anger within the people. Our mini group of 5 persons spoke & interacted with the founder of this village, Prep Chem. He is an 82 year old man who was present in 1995. This was the time when the last group of Khmer Rouge soldiers surrendered & gave up their arms in Chamcar Bei village.

Prep was present on the day the last bastion of the Khmer Rouge soldiers laid their arms. It was a forested area, not a surprise, since Chamcar Bei even after 14 years bears the forest look. He recollected that day & told us that they watched soldiers being given the amnesty & welcomed by the Thai army. From being killers, from an extremist insurgent ideology they moved into more official status to kill. Prep told us forthrightly, "Life was harsh in the times of Khmer Rouge. We toiled as labour but today we have machines & life has become easier."

When we asked him how did the Khmer Rouge senior officers recruit the foot soldiers, Prep said their anger was NOT against these lower soldiers. "They were forced. They would have died anyways. The officers would come with the rolls of names like a muster, call out names randomly & simply order people to join them. If they did they were doomed, if they didn't they would have been killed!"

He also added, "Earlier some joined them out of fascination for their ideology. They got attracted to all the talk of working as labourers for the country & the promises they made."I am sure people's expectations were raised. Because like in India, the elite, Brahmins were THE only ones who got access to education, creativity & fine arts. They good jobs & as a result were held in high esteem by the ordinary people. As a result the rural areas or hinterlands were completely IGNORED!

May be for the first time I heard & witnessed what my Communist friends had been saying. I NOWHERE condone the daths & killings or their mentality...what started as a good anti-Brahmin, anti-elitist movement turned into one of the worst genocide crimes in the world. That too NOT ancient, but as recent as 1979-1989!! Our generation was born, educated & graduated by then...

He remembers the past distinctly, like most of the others who survived the horrors of the genocide. For over 2 generations people have suffered & are still struggling to come to terms with this tragedy. However like a majority of Cambodians, Prep refuses to visit his or his country's past. "There is no point going back to the past. It was horrible and we are glad it is over."

We asked Prep & the other villagers who among them was a Khmer Rouge soldier or were among the high ranking officers. They simply did not hear or rather behaved NOT to hear it. Prep told us there were new forms of conflict in their village. They admitted that had only heard of the tribunal but had no clue what it was. One person however said, "There are many killers who still live amongst us. They are not Duche or others."

This form of restorative justice or even the tribunal doesn't seem to have gone down well with a majority of Cambodian people. People here believe spending millions of dollars for 5 accused who they have never met or interacted with is a waste, when the millions in this country are struggling to get a decent living, jobs, food and a roof over their heads. Hu Noon, a volunteer with the Red Cross told me, "We find it difficult to work in the dark. We hear the cities have power 24 hours. We would like to have some electricity."

This speaks volumes regarding their government's priorities. Everyone knows the PM of Cambodia was a former Khmer Rouge & Heun Sung. He was never in favour of this tribunal. In another group a high ranking Khmer Rouge lady soldier was the spokeswoman. In fact she was so dominating that she didn't give anyone an opportunity to put their point across. She infact made it a point to tell the group that is all was well & there was no problem. Later at the time of wrap up she created a furore with murmurs of demanding money. Her logic was simple, we had taken their time & energy & they needed to be compensated. After they were given a token monetary gift, she voiced her opposition.

People feel the real perpetuators have escaped the trial while the country heads are wasting time & resources on those biggies who do not matter

Just some thoughts on terror violence

Is this justice?
Your mind is focussed as you lift the gun
Like a toy in your hand you point at everyone
What makes you want to kill innocent or they a cause for you?
Your silence shows your simmering anger

Your bullets have ripped apart a child
The mother weeps as she too wants to end her life
The father is writhing in ire
he is sure he wants you dead

Your bullets killed a bride
The colour of her mehendi still wet green
Her new husband is now a widower
Her family wants revenge

Your bullet killed an old man
His family is left distraught
His grandchild looks listless
She wants to learn what wrong did her dada do?

Did you see the blood & gory stills you left behind on the streets?
Did you see the brains you splintered with such ease?
Did you see how many families you let broke?
Are you finally at peace?

A mother after all
She beats her heart & chokes her breath
This mother has not moved from her son's death bed
All she can see are remains of the son's clothes
Her robe is smeared with her son's blood, which is also hers

The mother is confused as television repeatedly plays the visuals
She is angry as her son is called a 'terrorist'
She , the mother only believes her 'son' is dead
But they won't let her be in peace

Her husband fell prey to a bullet from across
Their lives ended as the death was used by all
Mother was left as the son disappeared
Son wanted justice & used the gun for want of answers

She knew she would have to face this moment one day
But she surely wasn't prepared for such violence
She wanted justice, but all she got was two heart breaks
She believed in peace but all she saw was her son being blown into pieces
She had faith, but felt lost; Finally the mother felt abused by all

Contradictions of Angkor Vat

Thankfully Mr S's eyes are closed. Here i would like to introduce our ever so nice & gentle tour guide. He is 20 something young lad, who has studied Khmer, English, little French & now wants to study Spanish.

Extremely versatile, enterprising...but imagine the situation he is in. He is among the 5000 tour guides at the World Heritage site - Angkor Vat. For many new readers this is the world's first ever Brahma temple. In India the HIndus do NOT make idols of lord Brahma or construct his temples...he is creator of this universe so he is everywhere, i guess...

Angkor Vat is part of Cambodia. The country ravaged by war since eons...first war with Viet Nam, then they were French Colony. Then US carpet bombed Cambodia. By then Hindusim influence was seen at every level & the caste system too pervaded at every level. So the Brahmins became intellectuals & ONLY they studied & were permitted to study, while the lower castes were deprived. As a result, the Khmer Rouge leader Pol Pot, who studied the Frnech Revolution in France & majorly influenced by Mao returned to make revolution in Cambodia. He made everyone march to villages to toil as labourers, the rice they rew & harvested was bought by China for the arms they gave him...men were killed brutally, people were held captive. Women raped, then killed brutally. Children thrown on trees & killed. Ovewr 1.7 million died of both brutality, starvation & fear.

Mr S's family are survivors. The family was separated like many. Since they survived they could give birth to Mr S. Today he has realised he needs to work to study. Interestingly, the govt of cambodia wc is a dual govt (Khmer supported by Vietnamese) & local have opened the country for investments.

So there is China -largest investor, others like Korea & other foreign invesors in different sectors. Heritage sies like Angkor Vat too have investors. Mainly Apsara company wc is Vietnamese. They charge $20 for full day, they have hired staff for security, guides. The Cambodian govt gives guide licence, uniform, rest is all in the hands of this company. The 2nd bigger company is Korean. They conduct the night tour wc is $15 for 2 hours ONLY.

Both these companies keep all the profits. They pay appallingly low salaries to the staff. Mr S said that they get ONLY few $ this is more than doctors who work in govt hospitals. SO you can imagine the levels of salaries. The guide told us that the company doesn't provide any benefits like bonus, leave, medical aid, benefits, insurance or any such benefits to the staff.

The security is posted at nook & corner to check Photo IDs. They si on plastic chairs with NO shed or protection. The guides depend on tips given by tourists...often many are students or backpackers....

The guide told us they have an Union but they would rather be low key...they maintain low profile. Because few years before when some union leaders have spoken up, they were killed. Mr S said that the govt of Cambodia bumped them off. So they all rather keep quiet instead of fighting for their rights.

He said that Apsara also has hotles. Most of the 200 odd hotels in Siem Rep are owned by foreigners. They employ locals, but NO major benefits are given to them. I asked if the union of hotel employees & travel guides are combined or have dialogued & Mr S said NO. I suggested they begin informally some dialogue so that they can grow slowly in numbers. He was overwhelmed..we assured him that this is what we can do as peace felllows to give concrete suggestions to make their lives better...but he said they have to be careful.

The good part is I am proud being an Indian. Was always & after visiting angkor vat, im re-emphasising it. India is THE only country which has given money & funds for restoring this site & is reviving it..for its preservation...unlike the other foreign countries that are fleecing Angkor Vat....i hope Karin & I can start facebook online capmpaign to help guides like Mr S & help save Angkor Vat.

Missing notes

Well, 2 days ago we had another sharing in class. We were to say something ridiculous we missed about our cities back home. For the first time readers, i am attending a course on Conflict resolution & peace at the Chulalongkorn University, Bangkok.

So we have trainers specialised in conflict resolution, game theories, applying theory to groups & so on & so forth...everyone was expected to mention something. Now i have a friend Mr S. He asked me through text if I missed Mumbai. Which I do NOT right now. I am NOT really one of those who misses anyone or anything, not because i am cold, detached or cruel. I live in this moment. I live in the very present. Missing connotes an emotion of weakness, in my analysis functioning & living.

Missing means, you are dwelling on the past & living on the past. Missing according to the dictionary means, "Lacking, absent, failure to accomplish or achieve." That is why i said it is a weakness. I have NOT failed & even if i didn't get something i wanted, today it may NOT be that significant. If you miss someone or person, that also means you are holding onto something that is NOT yours, in your existence. I do NOT miss people as a rule, especially those alive. Sometimes you may reminisce, recollect memories, but that doesn't mean you miss. People are meant to come, go exit & enter your life. One has to learn to live with these happenings.

So i told Mr S that he may not believe it, but I really do NOT miss Mumbai. He ofcourse said he expected this answer as "Miss" doesn't exist in my vocabulary! Which is true. So when i was confronted to reply in the class i was jaw locked! Seriously, i wanted to laugh. I shared it in class that i do NOT miss anyone or anything.

The trainer persuaded me & coaxed me. He said, "Something ridiculous you surely miss neeta." And you know in a brief spilt of a second i said to myself, "Yes Neeta you miss the dirty odour & smells back home!" So i had this absolutely naughty grin on my face & one colleague said, wait you're going to say something really funny. Yes, I said it aloud, "I miss the dirty odours in my city, I miss the dirty body odours back home of men & more so young girls!" The whole class was in splits & making sounds.

An Indian colleague who sits next to me, Ankur looked at me sympathetically & said, "You know Neeta you're right. The people in India really have worse body odours!" Some extra smart will read & say so you go round smelling people is it. No, i Don't do that. One doesn't have to take that extra effort in Mumbai or India. We are just a bunch of unhygienic race.

Men have huge body odour (BO as politely & politically correct i am told) problem. In our DNA office dammit, the young girls smell of BO early in the day! So many journalists have BO. I have already written about it earlier in this blog. In fact Ranjona (A senior in this field& Off) had her ear filled with my daily outbursts about how there is a strong BO in my section. Yes, young PYTs chavlyas matkyas as i call them, dress to the hilt, sex bombs but oh! My god, have such strong BO. It makes me nauseated.

Do i need to emphasise how traumatic it is to travel in a bus or train with strong BO?? eeks. rattling, unnerving, assault on my nose, its my basic right to protect myself. So Ranjona has donated her deo to me. I carry one in my bag, a napkin to cover my face & I am unashamed to hold it on my face as i move around in the city. I carry a fan too now, so that i can get fresh air as opposed to odour filled air.

Mumbai city has a lot of it. It also has a peculiar stink. Now China has a stink through out the country, may be because of their Stinky tofu. It is a peculiar stink, quite unlike the fish stench that coastal or tropical cities have. NOT like Mumbai's beaches where they dry prawns & Bombil.

Thailand has a mix of odours. Bb as in Bad breath is across Asia & Oh! Yes, the true old America, as they use very little water in their lives. Thailand they have all sorts of stinly food prodcuts, their food stinks. plus they use shrim & other fish sauces, so they stink too. Walking on the streets is a pleasure on the feet, as they are clean, NO garbage, drains. But it is definitely an assualt on the nose!

Mumbai has strong sewage, bad drainage & overflowing mahole stench, bad odour problem. There are heaps of garbage & that too gets mixed in the air. So imagine now firstly BO, then mass BO, garbage, drainage, sewage & the famous Mithi river (Nullah) stench problem, mixed with drying fish, odours from slums & lastly but NOT the least coastal sea odour.

Can you imagine how many odours on a daily basis (minus the fragrances of perfumes, deos, food, etc) that we inhale on a daily basis in Bombay?? Gawd, it is a torture, it is also ridiculous. Because these odours are something we can minimise. We all together can identify there is a problem with us so bathe properly, use deos, allum & eat well. These odours are from people who are earning decent salaries or income & can afford to minimise them.

Sometimes ridiculous also becomes a serious ...so the class definitely had a laugh as they said "eeks, that is something outrageous Neeta."

Neeta Unexpectedly....

Strange thing happened in one of our classes recently. We were asked to share with the class something unexpected that each one of us done or have experienced or said. I was unsure what to say? Everything about me is unexpected, come to think of it. I shared this, i told them I am personification of unexpectedness!

My Aai-Baba will recollect how my mother was asked to drop her baby, that is me, when she was carrying me. One gynac had told her that the pregnancy was a risk to her life. My baba sent her to his rakhi sister, a gynac who told my mother (she was my mother's gynac thereafter for me & our younger brother, Madhav), who told her there is NO risk at all.

My aai was 'informed' very confidently that she will get a son & i was conceived as a girl. Before the delivery my mother went for a regular visit to Saroj atya the gynac who checked her & asked her to stay on the hospital. Aai had no problem, except on 20th midnight, the first few minutes of 21st May her second daughter me, was born.

Absolutely unexpected! She had an older daughter Smita -round, podggy, great cheeks, bald & absolutely the cutest baby we have seen since then...here aai got a wide-eyed baby girl, who had immense hair on her head, round face but weak child. The contrasts were so evident that they clashed on a daily basis for over 2 decades with the expectations of my parents from me.

Every decision i have taken in my life, had been totally UN CALCULATED...choice of men, choice of career, change of career fm social advocacy to writing or broadcast journalism, choice to remain single, to exert my right to make choices & the method i took them, they all were unexpected & in many ways still opposite to that of my sister's. To assert my choice of NOT wanting to be a mother too is unexpected of me, many of my friends thought here is one girl who get settled, marry & have babies! why on earth they predicted such things from me, they best can answer.

People will find it surprising that i cook well, though hate anything that is a daily chore, like making dal, rotis, fulkas, bhaji, etc etc...haha...I HATE believe me despise washing clothes. Oh! my god here there is NO laundry machine where we can wash our clothes by paying a $. Its surprising that i have NO expectations from anyone in life anymore...i have HOPE NO expectations...so i can enlist a lot of things...
So i just said something that i felt was most natural. I told the class that everything about me from my birth has been unexpected. Yes, i won't lie. For me to have got selected for this course was absolutely unexpected for me. I have travelled to 3 parts of the world, rather continents NOT at my expense, NOT a junket, but on fellowships is absolutely unexpected. so the list of my unexpectedness continues.

Oh! Yes, there are times when i have shown immense sense of humour & laughed off a conflict, while I've run into people, friends & colleagues unexpectedly...the class responded with loud laughter saying yeah, whatever i said they felt was interesting & some said well, it goes with your personality! What it means, they can explain best! Yet, many seem to recall this conversation in class frequently.

Conflict in the group

Now, we are Peace fellows, class of April 2009..having said this i will reiterate that we are 'supposed' to take initiatives to the communities, society at large & more importantly within ourselves to spread the message of peace. I believe that Peace is like our breath which we constantly live by. Now what i am writing is extremely disturbing more so since the whole episode has left bitterness among the whole class. The group is now divided on gender lines - women versus the men.

I am NOT talking of normal tiffs, conflicts due to strong personalities, NO, these are nothing in comparison to what has been happening in our group. But then aren't police supposed to be the ultimate responsible persons for upholding & maintaining law & order? Do they fulfill their responsibility? So if they fail why do i get so disturbed & rattled with my colleagues? Because i thought here are people who have been selected by their countries, to come learn, study about conflict resolution & go back to their countries & implement, internalise what they have learnt here. More so because some earnest tax paying people have bloody well invested in these rascals.

We have among us men in the class of peace fellows. We are in Thailand, Bangkok (eeks i have sooooo many corny names for these 2 places...Thai -Land, Bang -kok!!) so people have conceptions, rather misconceptions & desires or rather fantasies which they want to fulfill after coming to this land. Now i am NOT insinuating that women are incapable of feeling the way like men. But having said that i definitely believe that such women are rare.

For long we had been hearing that some men in our group have gone visiting Pat pong, brothels, slept with sex workers, prostitutes, etc etc...I definitely agree that what anyone does in their personal lives is their own 'fucking' business. We not here to sermonise or convert. However, there are some facts that hit one's face when we speak of Peace fellows are indulging in these practices.
(1) Someone has sponsored them to come here & study
(2) A renowned Internationally acclaimed organisation Rotary has sponsored them. They may be elite but they have a good reputation
(3) They are bloody living on the campus in the 'official' residence
(4) They are indulging in "illegal" business
(5) They represent their countries, dammit they are Ambassadors of their countries

Friends will say whay are you rattled Neeta, let them do what they want. Oh! Sure, infact i had NOT even raised this issue with the management, intially. Though some of my female friends took the initiative.

But what is more infuriating is that one man in our group went & made a sexual advance & proposition for becoming sex mates with another female colleague. This is outrageous, disgusting & he definitely needs to be kicked in his arse & thrown out of this place. More so he even spoke disrespectful of his wife to her. She told me about this & I made her talk more, so that i could get her to express everything. She was like, "Neeta I can just imagine what you would have done & said to him." Well, i am proud to say there are NOT many people like, who will stick their neck out & speak for their rights. I am a minority. This is worse than going to a brothell I asked her to tell Jenn, but she told me she should handle it 'maturedly!!!!' Means, SILENCE.

All what we have learnt in the last 2 months seems to have fallen on deaf ears. The need to stand up for one's rights, handle conflict & resolve it, repsect each other, it seems Greek & Latin when are faced with such people. Well the conflict wasn't resolved. Because after visiting the brothel this man has the gall to go & tell the lady colleague that he visited a brothel. NOW! what does one say to such people??

Meanwhile the women friends & colleagues went & told Jenn about the illegal activities. Till then Jenn wasn't aware. More so i had a long chat with the women. I said I have NO sympathy (Gawd even empathy) for these men, or for their spouses either. I really don't care. But what matters is that they are indulging in activities which they should do after the course is over. Also NOT when they are staying on official college premises. More so, i wanted them to tell of another loud, ill-mannered otherwise nice male colleague who of course wears his country's tag on his chest. What with their newly elected President.

Mr X came with us to Pattaya. He made hotel bookings with us, accompanied us. On the night we women visited the sleaze street, he came along & told me at least thrice. "You know Neeta if i had come with my group of male friends i would've have fucking come here. I would've have done things like sleep with these lady boys." So i was like "ofcourse you still can go." what is it about this place that attracts men sooo very much??

The next day he didn't answer his cell or room land line. We were sure he wouldn't come with us to Koh Samet. We 4 women with Dilshad, wife & daughter enjoyed & returned to the bus stop. There we saw Mr X in a delirious state! His eyes were listless, foam around his lips, aimlessly walking, soiled Bermudas & eeks he was wreaking of alcohol & some substance...god knows what it was. Dilshad called him & brought him to where we sat. We had presumed he had gone off to Bangkok wt Sofia. Please, i have a younger brother who was an alcoholic & i really didnt want to play counsellor to a male colleague who has shown a similar pattern of immature drunken behaviour in the last 3days.

Wendy & Chiara accompanied him for his safety. He paid & got off at MBK for food & by then they were exasperated. They returned to the dormitory. I urged them to talk to Jenn about this just as they would talk about the brothel part. On my part i told Mr X he should take someone along with him the next time he went binging again. coz as a journalist i told him you are bloody white! means, he is the first target, most vulnerable & can get mugged, raped, drugged, or even falsely implicated.

After listening to me, he NEVER once told me he had lost his camera, thankfully i had shared this all with Simon & asked him to get some information out fm Mr X. Yes, we must know details, coz he could have been raped or injected or drugged, more so did he know?? More so dammit he came with us. He at NO point told us that he will go separate ways on our stay & we should NOT be bothered about him. Because that would mean he is solely responsible for his acts or misdeeds. Since he did NOT tell us, had something to happen, we would have had to face the consequences. Well, Mr X has still NOT learnt, he repeated his performance yet again on Tues night.

By now the management is aware of these dealings. I am glad they are. Initially i was of the opinion that we women shouldn't bother. Let these men face the consequences. But then, the legal points i raised would mean, if something has to happen, all of us could get branded. And hell will breka loose if I am branded with these arse holes man.

Worse still, a good, nice, socially committed course will get tainted & blacklisted because of these horrendous men & their misdeeds. It also means Rotary gets tainted, the people who have sponsored, conceptualised this course, the Chulalongkorn University & the authorities here, all will labelled in one category with these sort of men. Of course, it will happen. Just imagine if any of these chutiyas has to get caught in their act, how it can backfire & what a sensational media case this will be! I would have gone all out to unearth it, had i been covering it.

What is worse is that some of these men even approached a Thai male colleague in the group. One who is a monk in the making! He is so very nice, a Buddhist who has undergone Dhamma doctrination. He was distressed & asked me what should he have said to the men who asked him to take them to a brothel. In my blunt way i told him Tony you must say upfront you are NOT a pimp & if they want they can get lost finding brothels for themselves. Also, what the hell do they mean by Thai girls?? Are all Thai girls whores? I mean why do men think below the belt??

Away from this course i give an ant's arse of space to these male colleagues in my mind, life. But their activities has left us all baffled & sickened. I feel sad that what a waste of money to have invested in such men. Tomorrow they will be going out in the huge world, will they continue to behave like this? The vulnerable women in conflict zones will be made to feel further vulnerable.

The Song of Peace

Yesterday was special in our class..Fred is a Phillipino, taught us about Peace Zones & their importance. He asked us to break into groups of 4...quite an interesting group ours was - Ankur, Manolin, Chen & Me...Now none of us have any skill or talent close to Poetry....while giving us the instructions, I picked just one word that Fred said, you can even write a poem. I began writing the first line & Ankur joined & when he saw its a song, he said yes lets write a song...I only initiated writing the first line...ankur & chen just followed in like notes in a tune. They began giving me points - I liked Chen spoke of children going to school, about commuity life, cattle grazing in fields. Ankur said write about women, prayers, jails getting empty, Lastly Ankur being true Indian,influenced b y our Hndi films insisted we write about doves flying over the peace zone...Manolin was little slo yesterday bcoz he was lil under weather.he spoke of respect to all, obey elders...what i did was write it all in a form of song...pl read...

"Lay down your arms, you army and rebels, come join hands for peace
Let the children play and send them back to school
Let the women tender us with their love as they keep the families together
Let the men go out to the fields to work, so the markets can flourish
Let the bells toll in the Church and we all join in these praises of peace
Let us all bow together as we thank the Lord for this peace
Let the people travel again so that they wear smiles once more
Let us all celebrate this festival of Peace!
Leave your goats and cattle to graze in the fields
Let the jails empty as the police can enjoy a life with their families
Let there be jobs for all so that no one cries anymore.
There is no hunger in this village as there is food for all!Let the people live with each other peacefully as they respect each one equally
Let the doves fly over us to spread this message for peace!"
(Written, conceptualised by : Ankur, Manolin, Chen & Neeta Kolhatkar, Rotary Peace fellows class of Apr 2009 )

American policies & their aftermath

I'm NOT anti-american. But that does NOT mean i will prostrate in front of americans or anything american...in fact i've always stated we copy all rubbish from the west & blame it on the poor americans. I do wish we can ape their power to say NO (well that too they let go of when they re-elected the rocket-scientist bush!!), fact that things move there at sonic speed, the people make things happen, they are at least concerned & focussed on their local area management, they believe in change & make it happen & lastly, they believe in true democracy...its not hypocritical, unlike in India...having said so, i think their policy makers are completely out of sync with the reality.

I am NOT accusing them. Let's not forget the Americans have the last say in the world trade organisations, international relations, organisations, in the security concerns, leading financial institutions, lending banks & agencies like the International Monetary fund & the World Bank. Now in the already poorly developed countries like India...yes, we are not poor & we are developed though it is arbit & lop sided development; we always regarded the IMF & WB as international monsters. When the social activists said this, or scholars too, they were all (including many like me) as anti-american, pro-communist, blah blah...now it does NOT connote and people should NOT interprete it wrongly. I believe they simply do NOT have their bearings in place.

The large dam issue for a change. We in India had our indigenous rustic check dams & small dams in place. Now if we wanted some billion $ loans for some project the WB twisted our arms because we did not have the bloody balls to tell them to Fuck off...unlike china we prostrated. I admire chinese policy makers because told the Americans, if they wanted china to accept international investments it would be ONLY on the Chinese terms & conditions. We are a confused nation. We lap up everything as if it is going out of stock tonight itself.

So let go of our indigenous intelligence & skills & instead we happily adopt some model which is trickle down, NO people's participation & go for dams that are competing with mini skyscrapers. It is a damn joke on part of our ministers & highly selfish bureaucrats who are scared that the grassroots will rule the country one day. So in their monopoly to hold onto to power they follow the ridiculous policies of these American policy makers.

Now extend this to our financial scenario. Mr Manmohan Singh, the magician as Indians believe, who got us from high debts to a booming economy. A financial wizard, agreed to all terms & conditions of the investment advisors & so-called financial experts & bankers from America in 1987. So now we had nationalised banks that gave us at least 10% interest, we had decent credit rates, low loan recovery rates, nationalised saving options. We were buffoons according to the international experts. They said, look you Indians you have weird, rustic banking sectors. If you want our funding, want more American investments then you got to get your act i order. NO government control!! period, remove it at once. Decrease bank interests on savings of your poor people, who now should forget they will ever become rich. Block all traditional avenues of investments, you guys have NO idea how to run banks.

So what did we get? More foreign investments, more investments, low credit rates, low interests on our savings, Private banks & more private banks. Well just because some arse hole Harshad Mehta & Ketan Parikhmade trillions on frauds in stock market, does NOT mean the 99.98 million Indians have the know how & access to become corrupt or get involved in frauds. But NO the banking experts had sealed our future. So Indian bank sector became 90 % privatised. Even the nationalised banks began selling off the govt stake.

We got the 1st American bank coming in a BIG way to India...ya ya Citibank. Oh! It made news & how?? They gave loans to the middle class promised a lot & delivery failure took place on part of the customers, often, i admit. The schemes must have been lucrative, who knows. I ONLY know that on 2 occasions i returned the credit cards because my employer had forced me to take them & i had literally cut the credit cards into tiny bits & returned with a stinking note since they were charging obscene amounts. They would send the receipt for credit card late then charge high late fee, after few reminders to send the receipts on time, i stopped.

So the banks pushed us all for telephonic, Internet banking...all methods for international scams & frauds. Instead of making a 'people' contact they hired more English-speaking rude call centre types customer service officers. Who need to be reminded time & again "you are there because i am forced to invest in Ur bank & that it is why you are being hired...your bank is making money on my savings." If i say this most may dislike it...but I'm sorry, I'm the customer, I'm being charged phenomenal amounts for the services which once were my right, are now seen as if the bank is doing me a bloody favour.

So coming back to the Citibank. Suddenly we got news of suicides, rise in police complaints against the bank & their spokespersons making tall claims in the newspapers in the 90s. Why? Becoz this bloody bank had hired men belonging to various underworld gangs & eunuchs (transvestites, those who are more menacing wt criminal records in India) to be loan recovery agents. So what did we media get? Panic calls fm investors & customers saying there are extortion calls. The officers of this bank needed to be shot...im NOT getting into the morals & policies of loans, repayments, etc...i know one thing for sure, if ur investor is NOT educated he/she needs to be explained all details including the consequences of failure of non-payment of loans. The bank put up its hands saying these are agents hired by their agency...the passing of the buck. End result? Some suicides, police feeling helpless & we media going ballistic. But i tell you many cursed that bank.

Today, after the American policy makers made fools of the many countries like India, saying they had More intelligence & expertise on banking...look at them!! what a bunch of jokers they are man...they need to flogged in public seriously...lakhs of people have invested their lives savings in these banks, they must given so much of their salaries as fees for varied services to these arrogant bankers & what do they do? Mismanage the investments & savings of the people? How can they get away with such fraud? Now these very bloody right-wing arse holes of America who have NO commitment to public service (like most right wing politicians & people), who opposed any form of socialism are breathing the very word -NATIONALISATION of American banks?? They owe us people fm various parts of the world a darn apology. I do feel Citibank deserves a hard lesson. Im also glad that scholars & academicians here in the conflict resolution course have re-iterated that do NOT forget the history of any conflict. I do hope the american policy makers & experts realise the mistakes they have made. The aftermath of their mismanagement in our parts of the world where it takes nearly over a generation to make riches in the proper legal way.

Well, i am always looking for NOT putting my money in the banks...any suggestions?? I always remember Shylock..."Merchant of Venice" Shakespear my friends was a visionary...how many eons ago he showed the true colour of a money lender...i strongly believe any lender is always a crook...that Shylock happened to be a Jew is another matter (hahaha....) that apart banks too are money lenders let's NOT forget that...

The sleaze street of Pattaya

I think this picture is self-explanatory! "Only European girls??" Should have been Russian countries actually..that snide remark apart. This is for my learned readers & friends a part of 'Walking street" as it is called in Phathaya or Pattaya.

Now for some Mumbai's Girgaonkar like me, we'd grown up listening to Pattaya where the nuveau rich couples went to for a honeymoon, or more so for a shopping experience. What they don't tell you & teach you is the harsh reality - this is THE place for cheap sex & flesh trade of the sleaziest kind.

Most of these girls or women are NOT real women or girls. They as called, "Lady Boys." Men mostly in all kinds of fakes - eye lashes to face wc is all facelifts, plastic, boobs that are silicon & it just gets gross by the organ. Sad part is that these women (I'd rather call them so) begin to solicit 'customers' as early as 4.00pm! It is simply pathetic to see the extent to which they are compelled to go. Oh! Yes, i do have sympathy for them & aware a lot of this is forced upon them. Because when we up north & spoke to the hill people, they live in abject poverty. They are told to sell their daughters for a premium so that she will look beautiful & do well, have a fab life & send home money.

It is us educated modern who know things like poverty, borders, flesh trade, illicit trade, sex workers etc...The women are made to do things that are simply unimaginable. to what extent the men & women who trade these nymph girls can go to is simply left to imagination. Once You're in Pattaya it's a welcome to sexland. You're welcomed with a basket of the 'basics!' There is a basket full of alcohol bottles, medicine & thankfully condoms. yes by the way strawberry flavoured if you pl! Now i give it to the hotel owners. They seem to be THE only ones who openly accept that is sex part of their lifestyle in this city & at least are promoting safe sex, I really appreciate that.

Interestingly we were 4 women besides a couple - Dilshad & Susanne who had come wt their toddler daughter Yasna. by the way it was her first ever exprience at sea, she is only 2 yrs old. We women sofia, chiara, wendy & myself got over the first shock of the condoms part (Yes I'm a little prude you see), after dinner we walked along the so-called beach. I mean there was No beach, it was only a series of lamp posts!! Well for the modern ones who have NO idea of this saying, "Standing under the lampost" a sex worker stands to solicit a customer...so as i've described the whole beach shore stretched over few kilometres was lined along with palm trees, these & plenty of other women making out. If some of them opened their mouths it was a total give away! Husky manly voices talking to one another. Indulging in all forms of sex.

While we 4 women walked (Scott had decided to join us later after a kids kick boxing match, yeah more on it in a while). Believe me this is THE most safe place on earth for a girl/woman! Yes, we are NOT the targets, nobody is interested in us. It is revenge for us women..really the men are the targets. Seriously speaking, the men are under immense pressure in this place. I feel bad for those who come with their families & wives..well seeing is believing. Oh! Yes, you will be surprised the number of American families that were walking down that street...in fact while wendy & i walked we saw an Arab family walk past & a man showed these girls to his son (potential customer in the future? who knows), the mother however threw a dirty glance at her husband & warned him not to teach their son such stuff. While other American families walked hand in hand standing to stare at these scenes.

The street has thousands of these women. The sad part is that there are many cops, police officers & volunteers,surprisingly a lot of them whites...yet, NO one bothered. They are like the Indian cops, turned a blind eye to all these happenings. Reminded me of the dancing bars. I can recollect vividly how these lil nymphets, girls forcibly brought from Bangladesh, poverty stricken parts of Bihar & West bengal who were sold here to women & pimps in Bombay. they would be taken to dance bars, which were sponsored by the underworld, some by the police & few by journalists who were close to either the cops or the gangsters.

The girls would dance tantallising the men wt all their evocative steps & actions to famous Bollywood numbers in pitch dark bars, where forget one's food or drink couldn't see anyone's faces either. Everything under the skies would unfold in those dark moments...& the sickest part was that the men would throw money at these girls...who smiled & picked it up. Later it was sex.

Here too i saw the same. Except the dance bar girls were real, here these poor transvestites - put through sleaze & i am sure they too must be going thru' immense suffering to be treated so cheap. I had heard of all this...What i wasn't prepared for is that abso Bulldozer men of my father's gen or even older, squeezing girls of their grand daughters age. Pl kindly see the humangous sizes of these ugly men who have left their wives, spouses or gf's back home for young thai girls!! In fact on one boat ride one of the girls (they ar eall trained to fondle men & arouse them, carass them even in public) kept fondling the bulldozer & that bare chested man's thighs! Interestingly, Chiara & i could see it on a blue screen window! yeah so true a full fledged live blue film unfolded in front of our eyes...the man actually had the balls to proudly show off his wedding ring to this lil girl! In other corner of the boat an uglier looking thai lady was biting the shoulder of another sleazy looking old man & he had given her a thick gold chain. Well these aren't judgements im making about the girls or men, these are facts after speaking to couple of people.

The girls obviously haven't the dime to eat such grand meals like steaks or fillets. They get free hotel stay, travel, good clothes, branded accessories & clothes, gifts & ofcourse sex, sex & more sex, with parting shot, money. So i am sure its ok in the eyes of many...but soooo scary, many are regulars coming here repeatedly. They exchange pleasantaries at breakfast, some fight with the girls, beat them, some may have even exchanged these partners over time, who knows...their girls friends, wives or spouses must be thinking their husbands or male partners are good businessmen!

Illegal is legal

Often there is fun in breaking rules. Especially when u know that it is safe to break rules, point is how safe is it? And who decides the risk factor can be relevant. I'm on a study course - International peace & conflict resolution, at the Chulalongkorn University in Bangkok. Till the 8th of Feb we had mentally stiumalting, challenging theory sessions. From Feb 8-15, we were up north of Thailand. Chian rai, Chian Mei, Sai, Chang Khong, Golden Triangle, hall of the Opium -yes to study the illegal human & drug trafficiking. Now apart fm these subjects we were exposed to very crucial isues like the stateless, nationless people, those people who live & move around the hills wc also entails moving across borders. That means although they are the original inhabitants of these hills, long before new countries or states were formed, they are without citizenship, without access to basic amenities like right to puvlic health or even education.

These hill people are fighting for getting their rights (like many other tribals acorss the world), citizenship, some recognition & are clear they do NOT want to be nobody's children...in this we can see that the broders are Porous -pentrable, security is lax and people move around the countries often indulging in various illicit trades.

Now as part of this study is another agro-economist, a PhD, Sevinch. mostly a reculse but im sure the outdoor trips always help to break walls, communication wc with any amount of efofrt & stimulus doesn't happen in classroom sessions. After our breakfast on the 2nd day that we stayed in Chai Khong, we decided to explore this small port town.

We clicked pics as visual evidence plastic sacks that are 'allegedly' thrown by chinese people on the upstream. Earlier we are told by the villagers & later corroborated by the port authorities that the allegation is true -yet this is all from other people, except the chinese, though i completely believe the villagers. Earlier the chinese would throw the bags in the lower stream, wt political pressure & Mekong river commission pressure they began throwing it in the upper stream, but ofcourse it all flows down eventually. They lie around the river shore, wt even Thai auhtorities doing little to salvage the situation.

We were put up at the Nankhong river side place - an amazing hotel wt splendid (eeks sound very American..2 superlatives in one sentence??) view that one can get all along the Mekong river. It is truly breathtakingly beautiful! We decided to enjoy the moments along the river and we did NOT take the official road or motorable road. Instead we walked along the river wc means we jumped few fences of various river resorts or hotels, climbed down the hill to the port wc was off the 'narrow' path. There is a naval guard, i saw them loading their rifles later in the afternoon, but in the morning there presence was NOT felt or seen at all. The only visual evidence of people was, just as the sun was struggling break through the fog, there were hoards of 'pherangs' wanting to go across the river to Laos.

When we first arrived, i walked down the village (please it is like a small hill town, even their poor seem richer than the Indian villagers). We saw innumerable foreigners, as in whits, tourists. What were they doing there was a question we all had? Chaing Khong is NO typical tourist place. It has NOTHING like a national park, or attractive mountains. I snooped around the village & was told the prices of many goods including fares of guest houses had increased over 15 % in the last 2-3 years. It wasn't a sruprise why. every nook & corner there are tour planners, agents who give visas to foreign tourists for Laos.

Sevinch & I continued on our path off the beaten track, & came striaght to the port side which is definitely out of the eye sight of the immigration authorities on the Thai border. We waited & timed the boats that were plying between both the shores. It takes precisely 2 minutes to get across in boat to Laos. The cost being 30 Bahts when going. We decided to give it a shot. She ofcroz played little safe, NOT wanting to get Rotary international into trouble, more so we wanted NO trouble. She reminded me to enquire about the passport. The boatman was straight up NO passport, no bribe, just 30 Baht & sit in the boat . we just made it clear we did not want to roam in Loas, back fm the shore, we just wanted to prove a point reg the border. Had it not been for the course oh ya, sure i would've sneaked in further from the border. But we had to be very responsible and that we were.

In this picture u can clearly see this is the check point on in Laos. We treaded carefully, as we disembarked fm the boat, we looked around. Believe me it was like a kick up ur backside. Felt tremendously overwhelmed, felt the taste of 'freedom' of a different kind. More so couldn't believe it was sooooooo simple to get across. Considering neither of us look remotely Thai, Laos or anywhere near slant-eyed, it was very shocking that nobody thought of asking us for our papers, passport, or any such thing. We in fact walked around taking pics. We went right upto the check point. One immgration officer was in the balcony filling out forms, saw the red colour & stars along his arm. Later another joined him stretching himself fully & yawning as he saw me take their pics, which u can see in the above picture.

Now does this all baffle me? actually no, considering this is exactly what our faculty, speakers (sounds more politically correct:) ) have been telling us. The fact is all this happens with the knowledge and well approval of the authorities/ security. May be we were also lucky that it was one of those days when the security officials had decided to go easy on patrolling. Whatever the reason, we experienced first hand that the borders are porous.

It is something that i have heard, seen on television & read in reports that it is not difficult for people to cross international borders across the world. Well that is what we have seen late at nights in Pilani (close to Rajasthan -Pakistan border), Indo-Pak broder, Kashmir, Bangladesh -india border, US -Mexico, so on & so forth.

The exprience was essential. Not because i got to visit one more country to my credit, but the way i could cross over to this country was interesting. I am not surprised that it is easier on the Myanmar - thai or myanmar- inida border. It is even closer. we went under the cross over bridge in Chiang Mei & saw a militray official on a smoke break. If i was enthusiastic & willing to wade through or swim across some really dirty water it was 2 minutes swimming, unlike the mekong wc has a very strong current & would definitely taken over 30 min swimming.

I shared this wt one colleague who asked us to keep mum. though my colleague wanted me to share this incident wt Jen, the deputy dir of the entre. Eventually i did share it with her. Her concern was that if others heard they would have rushed to do the same thing & may be that would've brought mroe trouble. Yes, i agree completely, too many foreigners would have attracted undue attention.

Intertestingly, when we hung around the Laos shore or at the port, i wanted to collect more evidence, besides pictures. I offered 10 Bahts as exchange & got 2000 the currency of Laos. Their economy is in doldrums rt now. As for the boat ride rate fm Laos was 40 Bhts. I was later told by few people that Laos gives many attractive packages to tourists. Some hotels give good offers like if u buy some amount of chips, which is pittance in dollar terms they are given 3 days 2 nights free stay wt free massage & other offers...wc is best left to our imagination.

Im proud of my profession & to be in a field like journalism, wc helps to broaden our their minds. Learn from the ground to feel the pulse of the people & at the same time face situations head on, take risks too. else one cannot get a good story. It is exhilirating to say the least that i love such adventures & i am able to fulfill them thanks to my profession. Ofcourse that doesn't mean i am being modest, i am aware i love to skirt (or rather flirt) with trouble, but then so do the army, police & even doctors. All of us who are in a field that entails risk....we allned to take some toruble on hand.

So long, this input is special for me. rather this whole exprience of being at the chulalongkorn University & attending the peace & conflict resolution course is an unusually empowering exprience. It makes you question, want to inquisitively explore so many realms of life, of conflict & general facts.

This was a fabulously learning experience besides the adventure. It teaches to be alert, inquisitive, questioning & understanding how the whole system functions.

Bangkok Calling

My first 2 days in Bangkok (BKK) were spent in a sleep mode. It took me a while to recover fm the stress of work, tying up loose ends & the last min change in travel plan. Thankfully i love reading maps & details of a city before reaching...so it wasn't difficult to find Chulalongkorn Univ. Yes, came alone from the airpot to Vidhaya Nives.

A past fellow had drawn the entire Chula, MBK, Rama road, etc for me. So i trudged to the MBK in search of food...before i came to BKK i had read of the impact of recession on the toursim industry. I must admit i needed to search the impact wt a magnifying glass. There were people & more people pouring out of that MBK! Scores are buying by the dozens, another 100 odd Indians falling out of every nook & corner of MBK. thai youth eating, shopping like there is NO tomorrow. wow...i was tired, but roamed around. Plus thanks to the last min schedule change i needed clothes desperately.

Food I know was going to be BIG oroblem for me, considering im a veggie. Yes initially it was tough adjusting. it was worse b'coz the canteen where we have our daily lunch, they made me feel like a recuprating invalid!! No lies. Boiled veggies thrown over a lump of boiled rice! or boiled noodles day in & day out till 2 weeks passed and i decided to speak wt Jen. She understood why me a foodie wld always sit wt my head down & eat it mechanically...taste, i guess it varies frm culture to culture. Here the concoction of 4 items -sugar, chillies, lime & salt is taste! I cant call them spices -i mean its not cinnamon, clove, garlic, turmeric, et al....its NOT flavour either!
In the thai class i asked the kids to tell me a thai word for 'flavour' & they were whats flavour? What flavour?? i now udnerstand their predicament....

I liked the city. Its clean, most of it. What i liked most is that they use bottled water even on the carts along the streets for food off the roads...now that's where India fails miserably, although we have some great street food wt flavour. The roads are broad wt clear deamrcations for Zebra crossings...yes, i did a story 2 yrs ago on how the zera crossings in Mumbai were fading...its a fundamental rt of a commuter, if ofcourse they are enlightened of their rts!

They have broad paements, bt like in India i have a grouse they are really high. There is no desecent and ascent to climb unto them easily. Yet, they are clean, broad, even if there are hawkers. Some places the tiles have come off, but that's common. They have good sky walks that wc dont shake...yeah in Mumbai it was like as if im giddy with the sensation of the sky walk shaking. These are well tiled, solid and one doesn't feel tired. I dont know why back home when i walk so much despite the same kind of weather i feel drained, tired. Yes, may be bcoz the people are lot more peaceful.

Have roamed the streets and numerous areas of BKK already. I liked the BTS trains. Oh how i wish those stupid politicians fm my country come here & replicate the BTS instead of the hideious skyscrapers that seme to crawl on our skyline....yes ive a grouse abt them & i dont like them. May be our builders can come & see the architecture here, but im intersted in the public transport. Their aircon buses are good, but otherwise the normal buses need imrpovement.

The Chulalongkorn Univ is a city byitself. Yes, im sure univs world over are like this. I've visited Stanford - love those alcoves, arches & architecture there, other univs in california & Washington, yet there is something different abt this place. But...i've NOT understood one thing. Whats wt the thai obsession for water, fountains?? They have a severe problem of malaria & then they have GREEN, STAGNANT water bodies all over the Univ & the city...what mosquitos, their bloody grandfathers will be bred here....i simply cannot understand how they can live that much stench and mosquito breeding problem...otherwise i've bene comfortable.

The people are warm, helpful -though have faced some stray crazy types who i give a benefit of doubt to...they must've NOt understood us, english, sign language, one must excuse them. All the while they are ever smiling, warm & helpful. Now im waiting to explore the rest of Thailand.

Its always Indianness....

What do I say? Just as i thought the year 2008 was NOt ending, well so much had occured in the last one year wanted it to end soon, it got over. The new year came and went. Till 2009 January 1, i wasn't evne thinkin of the Rotary Peace & conflict resolution course i was selected for. How could I? There was office, ideas, bringing out sunday edition, plus so many other nitty gritties of mundane life - yes that bloody darn banks. (That's a separate blog input i want to write soon). Tying up loose ends, leaving money for aged parents, winding up fm Cell service companies, utilities, etc etc. In all this maize i had presumed the dear Indian Airlines had got me booked a seat, ocnfirmed for the 11th night flight. Apparently i was mistaken.

I'd asked Shruti (My friend fm PTI) to request her father to upgrade me using his clout, yes being a journalist i thought i cld use this previledge. I needed to carry reading material, copies of my newspaper, etc...her father happened to tell shruti tell neeta call him as he did not see my name on the airline system. Now that is not a surprise for me, things are complicated and full of excitement in every moment of my life.

Fm then on 5.30pm to 7.30pm, i was on either the landline or cell phone. Finally after trying to convince the nerdie, moron call centre employees who were asked to tell me that i was not 'contactable' what english is this????? i had to use my authority as a senior journalist to get the duty manager's telephone numb. Gosh why is it soooooooo difficult to tell an Indian look, its ur job to give me the person's number if i am s[ending my own money to make this call for enquiring why the airline has chosen to cancel my flight without informing me. that lil chappie then told me that it was because of the fog? I was compelled to say, yeah in ur head, coz there is NO fog in Mumbai city...there was NO winter till i left....

finally after sweet talking the duty manager in our mother tongue i got a confirmed seat for that night itself...i've never rushed at such speed fm Fort, to Home to the airport. Here it was agonising to be on the feet for 2 and a half hours! No i am not exaggerating...its a fact. There were long winding queues, customs officials who simply unreasonable and yes the systems shut down just when our number is called out...grrrrhhhh....it happens ONLY in India sooooo very frequently.

I only could remember calling Warangkana, poor thing it was their time 11.45pm, telling her how my whole schedule had gone for a toss....well, i managed to get onto a flight, which was one of the worst flights ever. The pilot refused to inform us that the aircon had failed and that is why we were getting warm air from those ancient ducts. Instead we had a rather over bearing stewardess who curtly told passengers that the message had bee sent to the pilot and pl be seated! I'm sure in some other country (Especially in US) the stewardess and pilot would've been sued. But you see this is India...anything can happen at any time.

Happy days in Bilimora villa

Last week I wrote about how the Villa that used to be has been converted into one concrete shanty. But thankfully my last memories of the Bilimora Lokesh Bhuvan are mixed…good regarding the building, life with some nice cousins & lots of bad …I don’t want to dwell on either..

But I want to re-trace the road to my aai’s (mother's) roots..the few memories that I have are mixed yet they always remain. Now Bilimora falls on the western railway track on way to Delhi. It takes as much time to Bilimora as to Pune (Central line). Now if i narrate this whole episode of my life one would think that we were like little princesses to the outside world.

We would travel by trains that were named after queens or princesses… like Deccan Queen Pune and Flying Ranee (Queen) to Bilimora!! These still exist. Nothing as a child was more imaginative than these names. I really thought the Pune train was for a queen & Flying ranee meant as if the train trudged at a flying speed!

Once at the station, it used to be amazing ride on the Kutcha muddy road to the Sardesai villa. The horse carriage owners knew who the family was & where we lived…as I child I always believed that all the people in this world lived in such huge houses as ours…see, every holiday either we would visit this town which was maternal home or Pune –where my baba’s sisters stayed. The eldest lived in a decently big house & younger atya in a bungalow. So, I thought all people lived in big homes.

The reason my grandparents had this sprawling villa was the family were partners of Guj Chem Distilleries & some other firm, none of this ever interested me. Today there are only acres and acres of flat land, with nothing on it. But as a kid my story was different…

Now here as we entered the vicinity, the first structure on the right was the Ganesha temple, exclusively for the family. Huge place…with a big porch, place for the priest & his family to stay & play. It was old tilted construction typical to a village. Then on the left was a mini playground a pit with loose sand & open space with slides and some metal jungle gym kind of thing & yes the first swing! There were plenty of trees that aligned a wall and a biggish garage. Though I do not remember seeing the cars parked there. Instead they would line up outside the door of the villa.

A little ahead the right ahead was a huge garden. It had a lawn wherein my dada ajoba (maternal grandfather) & we would take walks, have evening tea sometimes or sit as a family, when suddenly we would remember to have family bondings…There was NO television in those days even if there were black & white ones, this huge monstrous place had none.

There would be a fleet of cars lined up…9 cars, including one Impala & a grey Dodge! Where the cars went rest of the time I don’t know..i was too small to concern myself with these happenings. Often I saw no car & often all were parked there. I NEVER ever saw a petrol pump in that area as a child, so I would wonder who or what filled the fuel tanks of these cars..i always thought my grandfather, dada ajoba was a magician!

There was a small board that said, “Trespassers will be prosecuted & beware of dogs..” on the left was the entrance to the villa. It had metal criss cross grill across the door. On entry on the left was the wooden swing, some chairs & sofa. Right above the swing where my dada sat a stuffed head of a bear…its scary at nights when suddenly our eyes fell on it..as if roaring to get at us..it had powerful eyes though. I forget wc was the second animal! Then the walls would be covered 3-4 lizards when we all cousins would sit together to say our shlokas (Prayers) in the evening. Dada would ask us to forget they are on the wall & continue with our stories or shlokas. It tormented us kids why elders never realised it, i wonder.

Next to that was a secluded section, where we some 15 odd cousins were bundled together in the afternoons, so that all could fight, play or sleep peacefully. It was called the guest house..within the mansion…hehe..yeah it was secluded but also was always cool somehow. There was a big hall one opened into the guest room & the other was my ajoba’s study room, wt book cases, table, bed, all his carpets & yoga carpet.

Dada loved this room. He would do yoga, meditate & breathing exercises which amused us. He would lock us noisy pesky cousins. go inside to the courtyard jump & call out to dada ajoba. I remember the odd noises he'd make that amused us , then. The guest room was amazing…it had the first bath tub wc I ever saw in my life. It was bluish-sea green colour. It was something out of this world!

We once rebelled - according to my family under my leadership –considering I always got into trouble for rebelling & sticking my neck out I wonder how it was called leadership!! Now this guest house section would be converted into a getaway for uncles and aunties to eat non-vegetarian food –mostly fish & drinks. I remember sneaking there with the smells & have tried fish..ofcrouse that was rebelling, so got the usual beating for it .

Also, 1 imp factor to be noted is i felt my dada was a visionary or his forefathers were …coz nearly every room in this mansion had an attached bathroom, toilet in those times!! Wow! We were by ourselves usually as a result a lot of things happened among us. Fights, physical abuse & groupism... Not necessary in that order or always.

Nxt to this isolated space was a mango room. It was a semi-store room most often empty except when the mangoes from the farm or wadi as it was called. Yes we would go there, jumping around trying to pull down mangoes or steal fm neighbouring farm. This part of the house was where I was also beaten often by 2 of my cousins. One male – who has a son- another a cousin sister –who’s life has been on the downswing ever since I recollect. The beating had for years left scars on me emotionally that took its toll on my adult life for years till i came to terms with it. Which im glad b'coz i realised i am the maker of my happiness or enjoyment & no one can ruin it.

Next to this room was the god’s room, where my aai aji (mother's mom) spent lot of her time. She would make garlands, offered innumerable flowers, prayed and it was a sanctimonious room. I would ofcourse would choose a pretext to peep in & look at my aai aji, she was always a person of curiosity. We had little rapport & communication, but of immense curiosity for me. Ajoba was more like a teddy bear & we’d be all over him harassing him& he indulged in every grand child of his eeuqally…Aai aji was one tall, lean lady who like my doll aji (father’s mother) wore a nine –yards saree, lugda.

Me & the gods have not been in sync for over half my life me thinks…not really...but i avoid such prayer rooms seriously. Because twice a day I would be forced to go & say all the prayers in sanskrit, oh it was traumatic. They say the Hindus have some 3 lakh odd gods, if one had to see the numerous idols & photos that were in this room, they‘d think the gods had descended in this villa! More so the gods were pampered by this aaji. Freshly plucked flowers were offered twice a day, fresh garlands & the fragrance of flowers & incense did smell nice.

Then on the right was a dark dingy entrance to three rooms…now I am confused if they were 2/3. One was where we kept our bags –my sister / me & it was Sudha aunty's room. She passed away early, though I do remember seeing her. The other was shut & last was aai aji-dada’s room. Often they would sleep in the air-condition room where we would be bundled on the first floor. I think this was the only room which I’m told had an AC otherwise too it was pretty cool. There were 2 rooms that were led from this AC rrom, but were out of bounds for us. Then there was this Table Tennis playing table hall…

Again as only the men & boys were allowed. As if we girls weren’t capable of playing. Behind this huge hall were the rooms of my 2 uncles. They are weird. I strongly belive this was THE most dysfunctional family, till i saw the Forestors on the Bold and the Beatiful....well some aunts & uncles who are cousins had affairs, lots of the sex dramas unfolded in front of our eyes... aha...big fat indian joint family ha!

Adjacent to the stairs were my aai’s & nanda aunty's rooms..Interestingly each had balconies & 2 windows wt attached bathrooms. Above all this was the huge terrace. This was surrounded by tamarind, mango, amla & numerous trees. The fruits would fall on the terrace. Now the this terrace had a room actually could have been 2 rooms of my eldest uncle, again wt a toilet which was locked permanently! First because it was out of bounds for us in uncle's absence then later bcoz of the in-fighting between the brothers & their wives. We all kids would sleep here, since the rest of the town & that part of Gujarat would always be in darkness.

Now imagine we fm Mumbai, cousins lived in light all our lives. Here we’d come & every time the bloody electricity would be cut off, which was anyways was most part of the night & day. Imagine me, the scared one would want to pee, I’d be petrified of going down the stairs in the dark to the toilet, so would wet my bed till quite late stage in life. The next day fm morning itself i would be made the target of ranting & punishments. Now I am not exaggerating, because this part of my life was a harsh reality, then.

Right down on the ground floor, there was a huge hall. 2 wooden arm chairs wc had arms that would open out & aai aji & dada would rest their legs on those outstretched arms…they looked like one royal pair. There were 2 beds like sofas, telephone, radio, record player, 2 desks of my cousins, a black board & a long tale that was like mini bar cum beetle nut holders. The image of my youngest uncle was that he would always cut beetle nuts.

There were 2 doors fm here that led to the huge dining room. In the hay days there were opn an average 50 people living, talking, some 30-40 odd eating in that household. There were some 10-12 domestic helpers, cook, their families, the family that looked after the cattle & lived there…so it was a mini village by itself.

My aai aji would head the dining table. Dada sat on her right & brothers around. We little ones all around. The middle mama would be a terror. He always targeted his own son & me for taking out his anger on us, besides ofcourse killing the big black ants called as mungles. Everytime I sat to eat I remember being forced to eat brinjal, egg plant. I cannot eat that vegetable. I despise it. What is imp was that I always forced to eat Brinjal else was deprived of mangoes!

Now if there is anything that REALLY makes me sad is being DEPRIVED of eating alphanso mangoes. I believe I am born in the month of may, when it is the season for the king of the fruits. i consider it my birth right to eat alphansoes…I live the year round to eat this fruit…yes, nothing is more rejuvenating, motivating & inspiring than alphanso mangoes. We used to have a fridge but I don’t remember us kids being allowed to use it. So have NO memories of it.

Now the second most traumatic memory is of drinking the sad water of Bilimora. I was always falling ill. We kids fm Mumbai were used to the water which many allege is full of chemicals. But Bombay’s water is NOT hard, salty…its tasty. Here in Bilimora, the water was dammit hard & salty. I’d get stomach upset, loosies, stomach pained & I really would face trauma to drink that water…why NO one ever realised that instead of splurging on rubbish that the family did all they had to do was take care of the kids & give us Bisleri. Its NOT spoiling the children, it simply was depriving us of basic good drinking water.

The other memory was waking up to seeing women of the kitchen –wc did NOT include my mother making mango ras juice in the mornings. There was no limit to the amount we drank. In the afternoons we children would sit on the wall of the courtyard and my middle mama would bring us baskets of mangoes (alphansos) & chopped sugar cane…every afternoon. This was THE only time we were allowed to eat as many mangoes, there after NO mango could be eaten. Then at night if we our stomachs were good, we could have more ras…

The other was my aai aji feeding the first piece fm her plate to the in-house parrot. He knew all our names, would act very smart & was active full day as he'd talk to us. There were besides the kitchen 3 rooms. 1 that was devoted to making chaas, buttermilk. The churners were long ones tied to thick ropes on the walls. Huge vessels were put as we had cattle in the house. There then was a room besides these which had trinkets & heirlooms, wc of corz were NOT jewels, but ceramics, earthen pottery, etc.

Then behind the kitchen was a door where I remember as a child going there wt peanuts & chana then we would feed the Peacocks wt this food! Yes, it was a high point for me. I never thought or knew till I grew up that Peacocks were rare or exotic birds. All I knew that there were plenty of Peacocks in this part of India, like crows in Mumbai. Yes, even in my sister’s college, BITS, Pilani these darn peacocks would create a ruckus fm early morning, pick up lingerie & drop shit constantly all over the place! So I always though they were normal birds like crows & sparrows that are fed by people.

So, the life there was one pretty fairy tale for us kids. Well, I NEVER was a believer in those fairy tales...so i had questions even as a child, wc were never answered. What we weren't told were the fights within the family. Greed, possessiveness were the obvious causes. But what i always wondered was why and how these grandparents could not control their sons? Why weren't they made more efficient, hardworking & accountable? Why weren't we asked if anyone was bothering us, abusing us, especially girls?

Sometimes im surprised I never got into alcohol, drugs or prostitution or took to anti-social activities….yeah we saw a lot, experienced a lot around us. It did NOT disturb me that my mother's younger good for nothing brother did not welcome us when my cousin & I paid a visit. none of this surprises me. I feel vindicated. Even though he & my dead uncle were insane, NONE of this can ever erase the fond memories i have of this place. I am glad that my grandparents gave us a good childhood & with lovely memories. That they failed to reign-in their sons is a mystery they had to answer & something we’d never know. I’m glad I saw a world in early years that was soooo different, like a picture unreal….

Billimora trip

There are many memories when one is growing that are pleasant & many more that are worth forgetting. Most often as we grow older we forget the bad ones & try & hold onto dear ones…I’ve tried to clear my mind’s memory of most experiences- good or bad…however some stand etched permanently.

I went to Surat & then to Bilimora on this weekend. For most Bilimora is the station after Valsad on way to Delhi. Billimora is a far off suburb for the richie rich Navsari Parsis & Gujjus. There were industries & remaining were farmlands; it was a weekend getaways for the Navsariwalas.

Now Billimora is a town which is unique – gets hot in summer & really cold in winters. It has a some river side area …small compared to even any stream in the western ghats. The drinking water tastes awful. Its salty, terribly pathetic for Bombayites like me. it was rtaumatic to say the least. I'd get Nightmares & was always ill. My aai’s (mother’s) maternal home wc was actually a palatial villa. See, there are few secrets of the family which i can’t reveal..some I may just let out…but believe me when I say palatial its NO exaggeration. It is 52 rooms like old palace…No rickety stairs but many swings..remember ayega…ayega?? (Old Hindi film).

Ok so on the Gandevi road to the left comes this Sardesai villa –Lokesh Bhuvan. On Monday morn it was a mission for my cousin milind & me to make our trip come true! Our maternal uncle’s daughter made contact wt me She & her crafty, schizo husband called me one night persuading me to come to visit them. Now my last memories of this house was etched in my mind, wc was at least 28 yrs ago… a beautiful memory that was kept so till i saw the eventual reality. I NEVER wanted to go there after my grandparents 50th wedding anniv wc then i had got the power to say NO! Didn’t want to re-visit a place where I had memories of being abused. Physically and sexually abused.

Yet, my cousin Milind my mother’s sister’s son was my support. He & i have been buddies since childhood and we have shared our fears & problems always so he convinced me to go. We made a plan & I informed Sonali & her husband…they were all gungho, till they realised I wont be coming alone…they informed me –after I had made all the train bookings that “pl don’t come We won’t be in Bilimora, we have to go to Ahmadabad for an unlimited period of time.” I called Milind & he said I shld come to Surat & now only to prove a point we shld go to Bilimora.

Yes, both our instincts told us that this was all a BIG lie, no one was going anywhere…they did NOT want us to come. We both had our point. But u know what, NO one can deny us the right to visit our mother's maternal homes. Bcoz of our mothers all cousins till i was born were born either in Surat or Bilimora, bcoz Milind’s father was a fine gynac. I wa the first to be born in Bombay.

Now before i had left i had heard of ghostly stories about the place – it was in shambles, NOTHING of the past was around. The villa had become a shanty, the gardens, lawns had disappeared, etc. It wasn't the place of my childhood, yet I wanted to see with my own EYES…

Surat was fun as usual. Although my sister-in-law Mamta was unwell, she’d twisted her leg, she was her usual self…we had a good time. I realised Sonali & husband helped me save my money….i didn’t take any brownies frm Theobrama - the place to make Bombay's best brownies - that I had taken for Anav, Advay, Mamta & Milind.

On Monday morn, we embarked on our journey. First we met the bhaiyaji who had worked at my cousin's house since we were all small….an old man has now cataract but was his old self…who recognised my voice and name! we took his pics & saw the clouds clearing in the skies. We both looked at each other & said let's go & ruin their plans.

We crossed Navsari, the sister city of Surat & said we’d come later to buy our sweets…we discussed how we would be welcomed or not as we hit Gandevi road. We also were puzzled how would we recognise the place if it were no more like before. To our right few metres down the road, was the 3 and a half room shanty, that once was a 52- room mansion! The entrance was no more muddy, the playground was no more.

The blue ganesha temple is now re-painted in beige, but closed with a huge lock. Although exclusive Sardesai family temple, didn’t look like anyone’s ever gone there…the trees around were chopped or simply died. All plants around the bungalow too seemed to have died. The shock for me was that the garden was barren land! It was all naked and exposed for the world to see, like the lives of my surviving maternal uncle and aunty.

Some part has been leased out by my good-for-nothing uncle, so that he can sit on the arm chair & get money in his lap. The garden, thick lawn, trees are reduced to some green & muddy spot. The mud is still there…the house has the old grills, design…but as we approached I saw that after 28 yrs this is a concrete shanty wc is worse than the slums of Bombay.

How do i explain this place was straight out of fairyland! fleet of 11 cars, grenery that would make environmentalists proud! varieyt of flowering plants, trees, my dada ajoba wld talk to his plants. A board that said, 'Trespassers will be prosecuted, bewar of the dgos." mud playing mini maidan, huge compound, open space ahead and behind..it was sheer unbelievable the amount of land owned by my grand parents.

At the entrance the stuffed Bear’s face juts out, like the olden days, yet the lamp is broken, walls are discoloured, with patches & black spots all around…the rest wc used to be a guest room with bath tub, my dada’s room & the hall, all of it destroyed. The god’s room stands closed. Don't know what's hidden inside. Then a 30 -40 ft verandah is now reduced to 5ft where the 2 Labradors are tied...the dogs' kennels, playing gruond and compound no more. It looks as if this shanty is an encroachment on a huge mass of land that once belonged to that family.

The servant’s quarters, the 3 extra rooms of the kitchen, the store rooms, other rooms…all gone. we look to our right the entrance is still dark & dingy. Sudha maushi's room & aaji-dada’s room wt their toilet is there, rest, NOTHING.

It is NO surpirse we were NOT welcomed. What i noticed was the uncle's lordly fascinations keeping dogs still continues. The 2 Labradors barked their lungs out…the hall has the same black & white squared design tiles that my grandfather had built, were still intact. So was a lot of wood furtniture. Dunno how a lot of it was eaten by white ants. The 2 beds & cupboards, blackboard wt kids’s desks is there…one bed is turned up against the wall & aditya in his wheel chair. The maternal uncle was sprawled on the grand arm chair that were aai aji-dada’s. Behind the grand old dinning table cum store table exits. One gas range in the old place & the kitchen is now shifted outside. Behind the table the wash basin & grills remain . Rest behind is all vacant land! NO factory, no premises…new bungalow and houses are seen 1000 of metres away.

Milind told me aai’s & his mother’s rooms were intact…but it was out of bounds for us. My maternal uncle seemed terribly upset upon seeing us both. so the 2 villains were at their door. Mami who I feel sad for…yes despite her silent support to that man who is actually her brother-in-law but left my older abusive uncle for this monster, seems resigned to her fate- consequences for NOT making a change for herself & letting herself live in this strange house….I feel bad for her..she seems reconciled to her fate, happy in her surroundings…with the actions she has taken. Ok, he has been a monster with me, but has loved her always although it may be icnest. We both spoke after like 28 yrs??? it was my uncle's b'day a few days ago she made sweets & offered us. we both ate reluctantly…that man refused to acknowledge us or talk to us. He has NO idea that the most eccentric nephew & niece were on his doorstep, haha especially the niece…I can IGNORE people wt such elan he has NO idea…later some sense dawned on him & he stood up to talk to us.. he had worn a shirt wt 6-7 holes…his teeth discoloured & mouth filled beetle nut as usual.

My picture of this mama has been he would always cut the beetle nut with the cracker. His fingers stained as dark red-black as his teeth. Milind & I took pics, I played wt the dogs for a while. Dogs were besotted by me, seemed rather lonely. Milind smartly took sonali’s numb & called her in front of them. The colour on aunty's face ran off like the first rains washing the dirt on the leaves! She tried to tell us the same story…they were to go somewhere…sonali answered the call. We gave her no time to react, simply said we are on the way. Meanwhile mami said we cld meet Bondre kaku (the cook of yesteryear's) & her daughters as we left…the call fm Mapara household came instnatly as we were leaving.

It was a visit that churned so many people's emotions and memories. What struck me the most was that this family has NOT simply come to terms wt the FACT that what goes up can come down…and how! there are NO more landed riches, feudal lords, one has to work hard for one’s living..simple rule of life wc the men in this family NEVER understood. They wanted it all easy to the extent they would have even got us to sleep wt other men for fulfilling thier own goals. Thankfully the women had more brains. Especially my aai who got out from there rather early-college days.

The interesting part is the going rate is Rs 110 per sq ft in this part of India, (under 3$ per square feet!!) ..fm 52-rooms the shanty is down to 3 and a half..how much more evidence do these relatives need to learn that their party is OVER. Who would want to come & live here? acres and acres of barren lands...

The Mapara household was funnier Manish the husband my so-called brother in law, as he is one a crafty man...ran away like ‘catch me if u can.’ We were asked for tea but ofcourz were never served anything…we then went to Nandan Math. An ashram that once was promoted by my dada ajoba, grandfather... there we were treated better than our own ‘relatives.’ The former cook and her daughters recognised Milind & me, gave us tea & sweets!! Mostly they made us feel at home in their 2 room cozy chawl room. Although living in an ashram they were warm, down to earth. They related to us as if they were our real family. They are simple beings but more than 'relatives.' They know the family's secrets & truths far better than the 'players' themselves.

Geunine anger, but why do the jingo?

I was at the Gateway of India, as part of the protest rally. But what I saw was that although the poeple were genuinely angry, the protests were far confusing. The rally was for paying homage to the slained in the November 26, 2008 terror attacks. But it was a complete jingo, loud nationalist, slogan shouting exercise.

Ok, I am not really sure where to begin. I believe if we fail to find one strong leader or a person who has leadership qualities, then we get a sea of masses-means huge crowds of public which cuts across class and caste-with no specific direction or path.

Am I sounding harsh? Well then there were many people and instances on Wednesday December 3, evening that have made me doubt this very rally and its purpose. This controversy began on the Facebook, sms and all other virtual networking thingies from which the common public were disconnected. It has its own repercussions. There were hundreds of thousands of people who had simply ‘heard’ of this rally and had genuinely come from far off suburbs to pay their homage to the dead.

Among the various smses I got, one said that Manyata, a wife of a leading Bollywood star Sanjay Dutt – who in my eyes is still an alleged criminal (alleged is ONLY to be legally sound, else he still is) who has bought his freedom thanks to his family's political clout and money. Yes, I stand by what I say because he has admitted to the police and in the TADA court that a gangster deposited to his residence a Russian Army weapon (AK47) and a truck full of explosives, including RDX for ‘protecting’ his family from the Bombay riots of 1992. Interstingly when these arms were deposited the pogroms had already stopped in the city! I feel his father was a politician who could have called upon the police or national security but he sought the help of the underworld. Today he is a free citizen under the ARMS control act, while other Muslim accused are stuck in the jail under TADA for the rest of their lives.

Now his wife was to lead this rally, which she did by holding a torch. I am sorry, I took immense objection to this episode and aired my misgivings to the organisers. What qualifies her to represent the city & its people? Why did she dorn make up & come as if she was running a marathon? The other problems was the truck load of celebrities who were to make an appearance.

By afternoon, all television channels had set up their stalls across the Gateway of India since they had been given a list that celebrities like Manyata, Rahul Bose –who is at least doing good work with the deprived- Preity Zinta, Javed Akhtar, Farhan Akhtar, Adhuna, Farhan Azmi politician Milind Deora and scores of others who graced this occasion.

This whole episode reminds of a recent conversation I had with a Facebook friend, who is a writer and lyricist. I happened to ask him to write some poetry after the terror seige, since he has a way with words. Thought these tough days was the real time to write good poetry or some prose , which would inspire ordinary people. I was given quite a talk..because I am sure the person did not understand my purpose or predicament. He wrote... “this is not a time to write poems .....this is the time to make our actions into poems this is the time to feel not to express…” Point is as a journalist I have stopped feeling over two decades ago. Like a doctor I see, dissect analyse and report with a neutral bent of mind. I do not have the skill or inclination to write poetry, prose or a piece of writing apart from news report. This person has a huge fan following and his words are read carefully by them all. Yet, i realised he had 'avoided' really expressing his angst against the system, a fact that the rest of the public was atleast talking about.

I have been since then observing and trying to understand this whole thing about ‘feeling’ that every second Mumbaikar seems to be talking about. What is a good time to feel? What is it that people are feeling now that was missing earlier? May I request the readers to re-think. Most among the 2.5 lakh persons who attended this rally were under 20 -35 years of age. So if we make them rewind their memories or remember the incidents of 1992 , then it simply means most of these were teenagers & many still toddlers in the year 1992.

The reason I speka of 1992, is because there seems to be a ‘common amnesia’ regarding the first act of Hindu terror on December 6, 1992 when the Babri Masjid (mosque) was pulled down. Thereafter the second, pogroms Mumbai city in which scores of rich and poor Muslims were killed heinously gravely wounded and although officially 900 had died, many still are missing. Then we faced the 1993 blasts which again affected the spirit of this dear city of mine, Bombay. Since then I thought the restlessness and feelings would’ve have increased. Except for a handful who have consistently protested and are labelled 'activists,' I did not see this anger or feeling ever expressed so openly. These acts of crime were no less henious than Nov 26.

We again suffered a series of blasts on the trains and BEST buses, wherein middle class and elite members died. More importantly the bomb blast at the Gateway of India on August 25, 2003. That time the people who died were balloon sellers, photographers who shot pictures of tourists and some beggars. Sadly, at that time there was no mass movement or any celebrity who came forward to march on. Worse still this amnesia was reflected even last Wednesday evening, when no one paid a tribute these poor souls who lost their precious lives in that dastardly act.

The list goes on till the local train blasts 2005 and Malegaon. Yet, no one thought of coming out to protest or express their anger. I am happy a very delayed action of ‘anger’ and ‘feeling’ have taken over a complacent middle and elite class who now want to act.

However pardon me saying this, did I expect anything apart from lighting candles, speeches and shouting slogans? No, but I definitely expected some trouble. It was a sheer news instinct, considering the agitations and threats that were echoed by many, I expected some spats and may be stone throwing or altercation with the police.

Huge masses of people walked or were thankfully compelled to walk, as they had to abandon their vehicles in various corners. The police who should have been doing their duty of protecting the Gateway of India area, failed misreably in keeping crowds away from this spot. Meanwhile we reporters continued with our follow up work, which also meant going to CST station where 8 kg more of RDX was found! No one seemed to mind that security had been breeched and the police and authorities had succumbed to public pressure.

I wish this pressure was passed onto some more concrete action. I first went to the Radio Club side, where some celebs had paid their visit and argued among themselves how they needed to go to the Gateway of India side to share the platform with the other folks. Suddenly I heard people shouting “Vande Mataram”, “Bharat mata ki jai,” “Pakistan chor hai” and so on. There was immense pro-India and anti-Pakistan jingoistic. There were many who spoke of war - again most who were not even born when the 1971 war took place. Even as a tot I distinctly remember the dark nights wherein we had to eat and manoeuvre around our houses in pitch dark during the 1971 war. Yet, like forbidden sex, the war and loss of freedom seems to fascinate those born in this largest democracy.

Suddenly there was an announcement for more agenda. Meanwhile the crowds got restless and began hooting. So one uncle called upon his wife, an organiser atop a truck asking her to take another point on the agenda. “Enough of speeches, this is not happening. The crowds are angry and are turning awa, do something more,” said the loyal hubby. Auntyji heard and gave the mike to a young gal who screeched into the mike about why we need to boycott elections and no -voting. All around me were youngsters in hip tight low waist jeans looking sad and suddenly woke up to “Don’t tell us what to do,” “We know what to do. Shut up and give us action!”

Some metres away atop a wall of some compound people began lighting scores of candles. The melting wax fell all over; same scene took place on the pavement opposite the hotel Taj. India’s national flags made from all sorts of material were being pushed into the air. Then like in Karan Johar films the organisers felt they need to bank upon people’s sentiments and everyone broke out into the National Anthem. A young man who was an organiser was egging on people to sing loudly by shoving his fist into the air at the time of the anthem. A former armed forces uncle next to me to screamed, “Hey you rascal in the cap put that hand down, you are singing the national anthem. No discipline I tell you.” The jingoism in the air was too heavy by then.

Meanwhile, I met up with a Sikh army person. He has joined Trig Security and had volunteered to help the forces clear debris and bodies at the Taj hotel. As I walked away to see the mess the melted wax had made, two gals with a cloth flag shouting slogans walked towards the DNA photographer Kamlesh and correspondent, me. We were aghast and infuriated to see these chicklets holding the flag upside down. I was not in my spirits to give them some chaste abuse, which I normally would have, as I was upset with the whole drama. I told them at least hold the flag correctly, it is a shame…the gals sheepishly said oh, oops, sorry…and smiled into the camera!
By then the Sardarji friend was over the top and would have picked these two girls and thrown them into the sea. (I was hoping he would have). He told me this was a stupid fracas with aimless youth. As we stood talking across the road we noticed an old aunty walk with a plastic flag that was totally crushed. “Yeh to ab logon ka tamasha aur mazak ban gaya hai. Kyu ye sab shaheedon ka mazak udane,” said the Sardarji friend. (These people have made a mockery and drama of this whole situation. Why are they making fun of the martyrs & the flag?) He genuinely was disturbed. We decided to walk towards to the candles to take a break from this mockery, when in front of us a richie rich family came and stood near the candle-lit wall. The young man tore open the box, rushed his wife to open the candles and asked the son to hurry as they had to catch up with celeb uncles, aunties. The box which was torn open, its litter was thrown down on the road. The richie man and wife lit the candles in a super quick speed and rushed out from the spot.

The Sardarji led me to see the people walking in the rally. He said “You must report all this rubbish and turned to look at my expression. Sardarji friend asked me, “You will write this I pray.” He need not have asked me, because this is my commitment and job, to write exactly what I have seen. Thereafter for 15 minutes we both stood rooted with clenched fists. Every person in this famous rally was on their cell phone, either smsing or talking non-­stop.

May be seeing and experiencing harsh realities too frequently has made me a sceptic, however all these anecdotes and happenings left a deep mark on my mind. I saw the anger was genuine and I grant that. But I cannot fathom how indifferent in attitude and body the public was when participating. Sorry, this was no Olympic marathon or torch rally wherein celebrity women carried a fire torch with make up. This simply does NO good to anyone. Young children had lied at home some rebelled, as my colleague saw parents pulling down a college girl, “Stop it, enough is enough we have to leave now,” may be embarrassed by her guts, which I definitely appreciate more than the mass tamasha. I felt bad for all those ladies who had come a long distance braving the local train rush hour and the fear, considering the police had forgotten to detect the RDX (left behind by the terrorists eight days ago). I do not think such foolhardy events serve any purpose.
We media thought we had played a role in removal of the chief minister and like us the public too was delusional. Delusional I say, because the Congress Party and the leaders showed they cared a damn for us and for all those who died, but were more concerned with their 'power,' chairs and posts. These events without a concrete cause and mission are futile waste of public time, energy and cause immense security concerns. Not once anyone thought of letting the police do their jobs. Kamlesh and I had to run half way back to CST, because we had to get the story and picture of RDX being found. It was a nightmare to see so many countles stranded on the road and another sea of humans walking towards their homes.