A date with Happiness!

What is true happiness? Wallowing in worldly comforts and living in an artificial utopia or minimal existentialism in the lush green nature?

This weekend experience was such that I was led to delve myself into this exaggerated philosophical drivel.

It was a spur of the moment decision. We were sitting and having our customary drink in the evening. Friday was a holiday. Saturday was Ganesh puja and Eid and Sunday was ,well, Sunday. The million dollar question was what do we do.

Suddenly a friend remarked why don’t you guys go to Srisalem. I had only a fleeting idea about it. But the moment I googled it I became hooked. The friend did warn that getting accommodation may not be easy and it would be prudent to book the Tourism guest house. Alas, when we called them, it was booked till Sunday.

But I was now hell bent. The lush jungles had captivated my heart. It is biggest tiger reserve in the country. I was willing to sacrifice anything to be in that natural habitat.

Srisalem is a sleepy little town about 250 kms from Hyderabad. It is famous only for its shiva temple. naturally only vegetarian food is served. The food is delicious but brace your self for some real spicy stuff. I could have done with a little less!

For the nature lovers, this trip is absolutely a resounding yes. Rains bring out the best in the nature. It has a very well fed and rich look. The green is a typical lush which can be seen only in the rainy season.

We were unlucky in that we didn’t spot any tigers. But monkey we did in dozens. There is also a deer sanctuary. You are allowed to feed them leaves which are sold by a young child for Rs.10 a bunch. Tony, our eight year old hero couldn’t feel satisfied. He must have purchased at least ten till the deers got bored. The monkeys got all our bananas apart from the peanuts that we purchased specially for them.

It’s a pleasure to watch the deers stand up lazily and come majestically to pick the leaves as if they are obliging you with a huge favor.

There was a bunch of godmen there. We definitely didn’t want to look racist or discriminating . So gave them a 100 bucks too. They all raised their hands in blessings. It was a picturesque moment. A dozen smiling , weather worn ,saffron robed men with snow white beard and long snowy tresses, their hands raised in unison. Unfortunately I missed it. That is the only picture which is hazy. Maybe they want you all to spend your money to admire it! That is why we call them god men!

The dam may not be very large (We have seen Bhakra Nangal before.) But it is captivating. I can even now close my eyes and feel the soothing gossamer spray of the water vapors against the skin.

The only downside is that there are not many hotels. Apart from the tourism hotel which is good, there are two other ones. But getting a/c room is impossible because of the queue. These run on donations and naturally the donors get priority.

I suggested we go to the forest. There are very pretty cottages in the forest too. But again even they were all booked. Finally we had to do with a very basic room inside the holy city of Srisalem. That too because we were Brahmins! Never knew that my caste would ever come to my rescue! Next time I may even try it in Boston. Haven’t you ever heard the phrase ‘ The Boston Brahmins’.

There is magic in the air which I think can be captured better by the pictures rather than by my slip shod prose. But if even they feel to capture the essence, remember, they were captured by me! it still doesnt take anything away from that paradise.

All I can say is that I plan to go much prepared next time I visit India and spend at least a week in the wilderness. This time I shall be careful to book the Air conditioned cottage.

After all there can be nothing more pleasing to the ears than the hissing of an a/c along with the chirping of the birds and a drink in hand would be better than two in the bar in Hyderabad.

And that drivel about minimal existentialism. Let us let it remain a drivel!

Through the Prism of an eight year old Picasso

I have known this artist for the last eight years. He is my favorite. Though I don’t know much about art but I rate him higher than Picasso. Picasso can never reach the heights this artist can. He can climb to the top of the hillock and leave me panting behind.

He is quirkier than M.F Hussain. While Hussain prefers walking bare feet, this artist prefers running around buff naked after his shower.

He has held no exhibitions so far. His art doesn’t sell for millions. But the happiness he provides is worth a million bucks.

He doesn’t carry any baggage. When I was booking my ticket for going back to USA, he requested me to stay back for the Ganesh Puja. When I shook my head, he bribed me with this wonderful sketch of Lord Ganesh. How could I say no!
It doesn’t matter if the cow is not red or the tortoise is not green. His is. That is final.

His interpretation is what matters. So when Lord Vishnu blesses his disciples, you can actually see the aura.

He has a hundred questions. Why do I need to go to USA? Don’t I have money ? he feels I am lying because he has checked my purse. It has enough to buy his cookies and candies. That is more than enough.

I promised him that when he grows up, we will hold his exhibition. He doesn’t know what is an exhibition. So I explain that lot of people will admire them. But he says he doesn’t keep them. He gifts them to his friends who make paper planes when they are bored with them.

So we buy him a file. He promises to draw many more till I return next year and save them in his file.
I am not sure whether he will sustain his interest next year. He has too many diversions. He loves dancing. Karate, playing organ. He is learning Spanish. Maybe next year there will be something else.

But I have to keep my promise. So Querido Tony ( his friends think that Tanmay is too long. So now he is Dear Tony!) I dont know what the future holds for you. but today let's celebrate your immense talent in a modest way.
With love and un abrazo ,
from your loving Tio ( That’s uncle in Spanish).

They save their Butts, we ours.

What a week!

Poor Salman Butt. He is smart. He is articulate. He is tainted. Only he is born in Pakistan If he was born in India he would now be an MP.

Better still, if he was Italian , he could have been elected unopposed as President of the largest party of India. So much for democracy!

Sonia Gandhi thanked her party men for electing her unopposed. Lady you can have all the party you want, but show me if there are any real ‘ men’ in your party!

The Janmashtmi was celebrated with its gaiety and fervor. There were dahi handi competitions everywhere. There was staggering money to be won.
Nationalist Congress Party (NCP) legislator Jitendra Awhad has announced the highest cash prize of Rs 65 lakh. Awhad's arch-rival, Shiv Sena legislator Pratap Sarnaik's Sanskruti Yuva Prathishtan will give away Rs 55 lakh, of which Rs 25 lakh will be handed over to govindas forming the 10-tier pyramid. Congress leader Ravi Phatak's Sankalp Prathishthan has also announced a total cash prize of Rs 25 lakh. NCP leader Devram Bhoir has announced a cash prize worth Rs 10 lakh.
I have one suggestion though. Instead of the dahi handi hang the corrupt officials of the CWG. With their coats and pants full of money ,more money would fall even if the Govindas are able to shake them.
I was chatting with a friend yesterday and he asked me why didn’t I comment on either the CWG or the match fixing. There is nothing to comment really.
We take hypocrisy to the level of art and shake our sanctimonious heads at the brazen corrupt Pakistan coolly forgetting our own humongous scams. What will happen?
Nothing much . There would be another edition of IPL.
The CWG will come and go. Lots of money would be pumped in the opening and the closing ceremonies. No one would even bother about the games. The games would be declared successful.
The government would pat its own back. The great scam forgotten.
Pakistan would go in somewhat similar lines. Blame India.reject the proofs. pictures can be morphed. our guys are clean. Pat on our back.
Pakistan would save their own Ejaz Butts and Salman Butts. The Indian Government would save Kalmadi’s Butt.
The channels would have found something more exciting and spicy.
Life would go one as usual. We are Teflon coated. Nothing really sticks.
Not even corruption. However brazen.

Green with envy.

I love the rains. Travelling in this season can be very painful as well as a very pleasant experience. Painful with all the potholes and traffic jams and pleasure to see the mother nature at its resplendent best. The greenery and the sudden burst of colors is a treat for the sore eyes.
It has always been my fantasy to live in such greenery far from civilization and the madding crowd. I am glad I could live it for at least a day.
Yesterday we went to a client’s upcoming unit which is about a hundred miles from the city. the road was lined with some remarkable trees. The emerald green grass, the black ominous clouds and the empty roads with a serenity, not found in the cities, created magic.
My friends suggested that we could stop somewhere on the road side dhabas for our lunch. I wasn’t that hungry. Suddenly I saw this pretty dhaba and screamed to the alarmed driver to stop. He was driving at a whopping 120 kms/hr. I am sure he cursed me under his breath as the car lurched to a stop.
It was my lucky day. appropriately even the Dhaba was called Lucky.
Earlier dhabas were food joints on the road specially meant for the lorry drivers. No chairs or tables were laid . instead you had charpoys made of jute where the drivers could rest till their food was prepared. Then a wooden plank was laid on the charpoy itself on which the food was served.
It used to be a very basic food joint. But the food served was hot and fresh. The funny part was when the driver and cleaner ordered tea. They ordered ‘ ek paav’ or ‘ adha kilo’ which meant that the tea was brewed in that much milk. No water was mixed. Difficult for someone like me who drinks black tea but people swear that it was the best tea they had ever had.
Over the years, the concept of dhaba has changed. Its not mere cosmetic changes, but even the clientele changed. In Hyderabad specially , they are now like family outings with camels, horses, henna, tattoes and other entertainment for the kids. Gone are the days when liquor meantt some earthy Bonny Scott or Aristocrat whisky was available. Now one can get premium scotch there.
Now coming to this ‘ Lucky Dhaba’, it was like walking into a veritable park. The walkway was a square with a beautiful fountain in the centre. The walkway was lined with ornamental hedges. The inside was lush green with Burma grass. There were separate green and white cottages with clean tables laid in.
That the food was delicious was a bonus.
But I just loved the day in the midst of such greenery. Everything looked so serene and happy.
I could swear that even the trees were smiling.
sadly all the pictures I took inside the Dhaba were shaken.Good in a way.

It will help retain some of the mystique!!!

When the Gods ran out of Cats and Dogs

3.30 am. I woke up with a start. The rains have come in torrents. The sound of the rain drops falling on the roof top is magnified at night. I looked out . couldn’t see much . its darker than what it normally looks like. I have a glass of water and try and to sleep.
4.00 a Once again shaken out of my slumber. This time it’s a ear shattering lightning. My friend too comes out of his room. we settle for a warm cup of tea. We go down for a walk in the corridor. The rain is incessant. It is all kittens and puppies yet. We try once again to steal a few more winks.
5.00 am. the door bell rings with a bit of an urgency. Strange. We never have a visitor at this ungodly hour. it is the milk man. He informs that the water level is rising in the cellar and if we have a car, to remove it from there. my friend and I rush.
We have a feeling that we are in Mumbai instead of Hyderabad. This is unprecedented.
As we reach the cellar, we retract our steps. the water has risen in cellar till the first step. All the cars are submerged in water. A few motorcycles are floating.
The water is is knee deep and muddy. We are worried about infection. But there is no option. The water level has reached the door. it takes some effort to open the door. but as soon as it opens, water gushes in. luckily the car starts in the first try.

5.30 am The situation is a bit chaotic now. Worried families are trouping in. the kids are enjoying. One man is complaining about the security and how they are useless and need to be changed. I know by the time his car has reached the safety of the road, he would soon forget about the security. India manages to go unchecked from one scam to another because of this mentality. The same government is elected again and again even though it is corrupt, ineffective and irresponsible.
A man is taking pictures. That gives me the inspiration. But the first step is to ensure that our car is out of the cellar.
My friend asks me to get a mug to remove the water. I get an opportunity to bring the camera.
It is dark. The pictures aren’t clear. The roads are also not visible as we see cars half immersed. The community has first class drainage. They fail because of the fury unleashed. When the nature gets angry, there isn’t much you can do.
6.00 am we go up, clean ourselves and try to sleep once again. The door bell rings. It’s the security informing us about the rain. They are like the police men in the bollywood movies. Always reach the site of the crime late. We thank him. My friend says it no use trying to sleep. So we venture out of the community. The main road is flooded. The cars are wading. We take a few more pictures. They do not look as dramatic now. The power has been switched off. there is nothing we can do. We decide to go to office early.

8.00 We wade to the office. The floor is soggy. I have a meeting. I am worried about my shoes and shirt.

8.20. need not worry any more. The car is stuck in the middle of the road. I have to go and push it. I remove the shoes and keep it on the seat since the floor is all wet. we plan to send the car for servicing.It feels more like a raft.
Good bye clean shirt. Forewarned is forearmed. There is a fresh one in the bag. Now only if we can reach office!

A lesson learnt. I always complain that Hyderabad is not a 'happening city' and that I dont have much to write. But I wouldn’t want another such adventure again.
Its better to be alive and blogless!

And the Indian Idol is ...... Amitabh Bachchan!

“ Uncle did you vote for Sreeram?” This was from a nine year old today morning when dropping Tanmay to his school. This summed up the mood. A state' upset last year because their favourite Karunya lost the race as there was not much awareness, and hence not much voting, came back with a vengeance.

Most of the Telugu channels were continuosly appealing to all its audience to support Sreeram. Our community had also a notice near the lift requesting everyone to send their vote. They had arranged for a giant tv screen showing the live show.

And when he won, was there a celebration! The whole Hyderabad erupted in joy. He was the first Winner from south. Is this the beginning of a more pan India appeal? (But should the winners be declared based only on voting? will the real winner always win? Your guess is as good as mine.)

Sreeram was a worthy winner. He should have won even without such a concerted campaigning. I haven’t watched the show much because of the timings.
But Sreeram shone through the crowd. He has made our city proud. Well done.!

We were able to watch only the end of the show as there was no power for most of the evening. It was raining mighty cats and dogs the whole evening. When the power came, the TV was on. So we just surfed out of habit before switching off. Boy. It was worth it.

To me the star of the show was none other than Amitabh Bacchhan. And not because he is the Big B. I was floored by the way he prepares himself and comes for any show and the dignity with which he conducts himself.

When requested to come and say a few words on stage, he recited a poem he had written specially for the occasion. As most of the readers may know, his father the late Harivansh Rai Bachchan was a great poet. He wrote the evergreen ‘ Madhushala’. I love it because I had won first prize in school for reciting it. This poem that AB wrote, used the same template. Wonder where does he get all the time. It was remarkably fluent. I have seen and heard him on many occasions and his preparations come across as truly professional. There is always a lot of thought that goes into his speech.

His modesty, too, is truly awe inspiring.

When Sreeram was lost for words, he went and wrapped his arms around his shoulders and helped him give a thanksgiving speech.What a man! They don’t make people like him any more.

To me he is the real Indian Idol!

Another show that caught my attention was again a snippet that we were able to catch just at the end of the show. There is a children’s music show where kids from India and Pakistan come together. A kid from Pakistan , who wasn’t even aware that there is a language called marathi, not only learnt the lyrics but sang the song in chaste marathi much to the delight of the Judge Legendary singer Asha Bhonsle. His diction was perfect and so was his singing. Real talent that one.

The PM’ independence speech didn’t disappoint.
He was truly uninspiring and boring. What a waste of talent.
Whoever said, truly talented men seldom make great Prime Ministers ( me I guess!)

Should we even celebrate Independence day?

Tomorrow is Independence day, a day for the illusionists. The government, like David Blaine, would try to create an illusion of well being against the backdrop of corruption of unbelievable proportion, rising prices, uncontrolled violence and inefficient governance.
The spin doctors in the congress are better in spinning than even our spin bowlers. But even they would find it hard to look convincing with a PM who can even put coffee to sleep.
India Today has come up with an opinion poll which shows that only 1 % people support the PM. show me those 1% and I will show you the reason why we have bad governments year after year. ( I was proud to see that most citizens considered Dr. Abdul Kalaam as their role model)
So is there really anything to celebrate? should we then put an end to this farce of celebrating our Independence day?
My answer is a resounding no. here is the reason why.
Long back I was in Lome, the capital of Togo, a small country in West Africa. My escort had done a real good job. So I wanted to take him for a drink.
I was shocked ,though, when they stopped him at the entrance of a five star hotel. No natives allowed. I pleaded in vain. Finally, we went to an African joint. The locals there were shocked to see a foreigner. But when my escort explained, there was a big cheer. I had a great time there and came out glassy eyed with all the beer those kind hearted people offered.
This story becomes poignant when you are celebrating your Independence day.
We may have many drawbacks. There’s a lot which needs to change. But thank our stars. We are free.
I am unhappy with my government. But I have freedom to protest. I can write whatever I want. I only understood the value of it when I went to Africa and saw what was happening in Kenya or Togo or Zimbabwe. Later when I went to Venezuela, I felt the same gratitude for living in a free country. one word against Chavez, the dictator, and you will be arrested.
But are we really free? No we aren’t. What does freedom mean to me?
For me freedom means being free from poverty, free from hunger, free from disease and free from illiteracy.
We are angry today. But does our anger give us the freedom to act irresponsibly.
Freedom brings responsibilities . My dad was smart. We never had any restrictions when we were growing. But we never ever crossed our limits. Not because we were angels. Far from that . we were little devils willing to try anything out. But every time we tried to say sneak out for a movie, or smoke with friends or had booze parties, some where something tugged at our heart strings.
We were outsmarted by a wise man I guess!
If it worked in a home, why cant it work in a country. if we are unhappy with a government, we have the option of choosing another one. Violent protests or trolling on the internet is definitely not the answer.
We got our independence thanks to the sweat and blood of a lot of people. we are where we are today because of the hard work of a lot of people.
The architects of our nation, the planners , the builders, our able defence officers , scientists, sportsmen , musicians, writers, actors and above all the unsung heroes, the common men and women of the country.
They withstood hardships, they withstood attacks but never gave up.
We bow our head to all.
Does that mean I will listen to our PM’s Speech. Yes I would. But only late in the night.
I am an insomniac. As I said , he can put even coffee to sleep.
Let him at least earn a day’s wage. Sounds cruel? It is the sad truth.
I am an atheist. But when I see this government, I want to believe in the power of God. It is His benevolence that we are still alive!

Greetings to all. Happy Independence day.