---

And then came the rain

for when the rain touched my soul
I stood in clouds
among droplets
cleansing...

the moist air caressing my hair and
weaving magic through it
lost in trance
listening...

to the hitherto unheard rustles
the twinkling of leaves and chirping of branches
cadence of trees and the lilt of my garden bougainvillea
seeing....

puddles reaching to make friends, looking again
water streaming in hurry to meet streams
and streams to rivulets
reaching.....

 

Ms. Ingrid Dachrydyle

I met Ingrid Dachrydyle in the summer of 1994.  She was in India under a scholarship at Delhi School of Economics (DSE) and I was fresher in Law at Campus Law Center at University of Delhi. 

She was looking for an accommodation and I, for nothing.  Education held no meaning then for me. I had a feeling of hopelessness and fatality. 

My meeting with Ingrid was accidental.  She lost her way on a Saturday morning to Law faculty and I, to avoid curious eyes of my parents had come to university to just to be away.  It was cloudy-sunny day, warm and humid, with mist of nothingness and hollowing pain. Ingrid asked me way to DSE and I could only have obliged.  Not very far from each other, the two campuses, she asked me if I could accompany her.  I never had such requests from a girl much less a foreigner.  I, with some degree of suspicion, walked alongside with her, only to realize few minutes later her reason for asking me to walk with her. 

Usual university elements....

Somehow, for no reason, I was much less contemptuous of her and vaguely liked the walk of barely ten odd minutes.  After reaching at the faculty shutter, she looked politely and thanked me.  I walked back, without realizing that more was to follow.

Three days later, I bumped into Ingrid Dachrydyle while trying to have morning breakfast in canteen of DSE, famous for its coffee and steaming idlis.  She was there with couple of other students on a table sipping coffee.  I briefly smiled at her, and at that mistake, she excused herself from the table she was sitting around and came and sat next to me.  Coming from a background where this act of mine sitting with a girl while the classes were on, would have invited the wrath of my parents, I continued sitting with her day after day.

Ingrid Dachrydyle, born to French American parents, was passionate about Indian food.  She would like to visit every chatwala, every chole wala around university and nearby places.  Her passion for pickles and spices reached to such a crescendo that I had to ask my mother to give away some pickles for a foreigner. I took Ingrid to my home and introduced her to my family as a student from US.  She would often come to my home and chat with my father who developed some sympathy for her.  Not because of fact that she was without a father, who died in a peacekeeping mission, but that she was in a strange land for education.

After a good 378 days, Ingrid left for Milwaukee to be back with her mother only to promise that she would return for her Ph.D. to Delhi and for more pickles.  She wrote regularly, send picture post cards, emails and an occasional CD of her videos.  I went on to appear for civil services exams perhaps on borrowed passion of Ingrid, who would goad me into doing something worthwhile.  She also brought a sense of way, perhaps making me realize that sometimes walking without any purpose also has a purpose.  My father also wrote to her and there would be an occasional query form my mother about well-being of ‘that firang'.

Ingrid went on to work in Somalia, Dilli, Burma on UN peacekeeping mission, charming everyone with her passion and smile.

Ms. Ingrid Dachrydyle, 29, died of cancer last month, only to leave behind a 1 year old daughter called Shashwati, my younger sister's name.  She also willed her jute bag to me which I bought from Delhi haat for her.  She in her last letter has asked my mother to knit maroon colour sweaters for her daughter, for it can be very cold in Milwaukee in winters.

I do not know if I should mourn Ingrid's death, or be happy for the life she lived.

Good bye Ingrid.

Hello Shashwati.

 

.

 

Bloodied Benaras

For all those of you who have not seen Benaras, it is a city frozen in time - ancient, medieval and modern, all together, waiting to catch up with modern India but tagging the past along with it; as if they want to carry the future to past.  It is like sedimentary rock, each layer visible yet forming a concrete whole.  It is a city sitting over wealth of civilization and every road and nook and corner waiting to tell on its own story.

The city known for its gay abandon, eateries, sweet shops, jalebi, kachauri, lassi, samosa, paan, silk, textile and weaving, has much to say. People who know Benaras from a distance call it Varanasi (Varuna and Assi are the two rivers that meet, thus the names- varuna bridge and assi ghat). 

And to plant a bomb in a temple when people were praying……..

It is a city where birth, deaths, marriages, exams, happiness, sorrows, joys and everything else is celebrated and the ghats of Ganga are like a living diary- a memoir of its own extension.  The waters of the Ganga, within its fold have many a stories of joy and happiness, of victories and losses.  The ghats have seen much water flow for ages and the fortunes of the ghats, have risen and fallen with the fortunes of an average Benarasi.

At Markandika Ghat pyres would be set one after another and barely few meters away at Rajendra Prasad Ghat newly weds would seek blessings from mother Ganga for the new life they have chosen. Mothers would be seeking blessings for their children and children would be praying for their old parents.  Fathers would come with their daughter before marriage to retell the affection they hold for her before letting her fly off, and daughter would come to tie rakhi to their brothers.  As if Ganga has to be witness to everything, answer all questions, seek everyone’s state and yet be vibrant and swell with pride and keep their sins in its wraps.

And to plant a bomb in a temple when people were praying……..

The ghats celebrate Dev Diwali for Gods and Ramzaan and Id.  Bismillah Khan Sahib has no qualms about playing Shehnai in Vishwanath temple and on the ghats of Ganga.  It was said “aye Ganga tere pani se vazoo kar ke main teri ghat par namaz ada karoonga”, and the average Benarasi had no problems about it.  Kabir did not miss the thread or tana bana of weavers of Benaras, and gave the city its metaphysical existence.  Gyanvapi Mosque and Vishwanath temple are barely separated. The sites of worship have co-existed for centuries.

And to plant a bomb in a temple when people were praying……..

Sankat Mochan is like a confidant, friend, mentor, guide, punching bag and everything else for people who believe in him.  It is not a temple for people who regularly visit the place; it is a friend’s place where one tells everything what one has gone through the day, week, month, even years.  Marriages, take place in the temple.

And to plant a bomb, when marriages were taking place, when newborns were initiated to a friend, when students were praying for a future, when father and mothers were praying for their children, when sisters were praying for their brothers and brothers for their sister, what could one do?  What message was sought to be given to people of Benaras and the country? 

Miniaturisation of Music

Are you still the one who cherish the LPs played on those systems, where every LP bought was cherished by the entire gang of siblings? Ha! This is so 70's. We belong to the generation of CDs and almost tempted to include DVDs. But hey! We are almost outdated. Portable Music is here. When Sony came up with walkman in 1980s, it was 'the' thing to have. It almost changed the landscape of music and contour of the face. Anybody who was worth anything had a walkman. If not Sony, then any other brand, but equally proud. It lasted for a while. Then came the CDs. It almost made a generation of music lover or fakes as music lovers. They dominated the scene till 2001. It seemed a panacea for all problems. 'Burning CD' or 'Ripping the CD' were the clichés used to show that one is in 'league' and technologically aware. In times, when anything to do with computers is called 'IT', the clichés created its own followers. The metaphor took over the material. An usurpation beyond comprehension, but complete. The entire generation bred on low cost MP3s widely circulated and internet providing the much needed boost. Napster grew big, Kazaa changed business strategy and when the regulators and copyright holders grew strong, Napster died. It is a multi million dollar industry. Paid sites came up; online music stores emerged to create a new paradigm for music lover and faker alike. And then Steve Jobs did the 'Apple trick' in 2001. He almost did not introduce ipods to markets. The inventor Tony Fadell first spoke to real networks and Philips. But he found the open environment, honey comb management style of Apple very appealing. The company famous for its design, but poor marketing, readily accepted the idea. Ipod was introduced and was an instant hit. It offered music lover to hear their own music, over and over again, compress them in tiny device and enjoy!! The music scene was never same again. It has given a generation of islands walking along yet islands. Immersed within the ipod, they are off to someplace where no man has gone before. The tiny device comes with a 5-60 GB hard drives capable of storing thousands of songs. Better still; IPod has come up with Video Ipod, Ipod Nano - a miniscule version of the original Ipod and IPod shuffle - the miny of the miniature Ipod. The domination of the music scene is complete in miniature! Many other companies, seeing the emerging market have come up with such devices. Sony, Philips, Samsung, LG, Creative have come up with such devices. But the design element of IPod and the advantage of first mover is yet to be shaken. The same companies have now launched solid state music player capable of holding 100s of songs and large amount of data are also here. Plug and Play, they are the pocket sized music generators. So popular has been its appeal, entire ranges of portals have sprung which now market music for these tiny devices. 'Pod casting' - relaying content over internet through Ipod is a big entrepreneurial/leisure activity. 'Pod DJing' is big thing now. 'Itunes' over internet is already popular music store for Ipods. A company called Numark has come up with a device, where two ipods can be connected and music can be played in club or lounge, mixed and all that. Devices build around Ipod have sprung up. Harmon Kardon, the speaker guys, has come up with woofers and tweeter shaped like lotus and other designs, to act as speakers for ipods. Seeing those alone are such a joy, listening is almost blissful. How small can we get? Sony Ericsson has launched walkman phones. These phones will let you talk and listen to music in full measure. No holds barred. With 60 MBs of solid state storage and stereo quality sound at the palm of your hand, these are small. Is the grand horizon of music going small, or are horizons being sucked into tiny new worlds so that bigger horizon is created! This is as good as it gets.

The new Bombayana

The floods and hovoc of 26-27 July 2005 of Mumbai is having its effect now. Probably in a different way. The idea is to dispell more water away or retain remains to be seen. The city is being dug up, for good, to retain water, Lord No!. The massive concretisaton project is on with a completion time of 12 months (monsoon exclusive - thats what the board says at each road!) Lane by lane more concrete is being poured into Mumbai Roads, all at the same time. From Colaba and beyond, a new way is being shown, literally! Mithi river will also be widened, so will the airport. It will be further widened when the airlines decide to buy the Airbus 380! the largest passenger plane to be commissioned in the year 2006 end. The confusion is obvious. First the signals; they keep indicating the same signals as they did dutifully earlier, without realising their uselessness. People do green when they see red! The scene is same everywhere. Also, the traffic policemen or policewomen (for the feministically inclined). Their hands are full in the mornings and evenings, when everybody claims ownership to roads, and traffic is chaotic, to say the least. The automobiles are so closeby that one is tempted to honk the horn of the other car! For those of you who have seen Delhi Metro construction, Mumbai road construction seems 'neanderthelic'. Amid this chaos, euphemistically speaking, Mumbai is touted to be another Shanghai. The din about shanghai was louder before the city was enundated with water. The din has been muffled by the sale of open spaces and Mill lands at prices which can put money to shame. Such numbing numbers, actually being paid! What for; residential and commercial complexes! The town planners have forgotten about the support social structures for these huge residential complexes. The sociologist have long aruged that adjacent to every skyscraper residential building, there will be a slum. All the support for those household comes from these slums. So much for urban planning and infrastructure. Yes, and the gray sea is watching amidst great anxiety and anticipation, as to when its much hyped 'beautification' of shore lines and beaches after dumping of tetrapods will take place. More on mumbai later, the city is coughing and sneezing with sudden dip in temperature, 11.6 degree Celcius, the lowest in some years!! Delhi, Lucknow, Chandigarh please dont laugh!! Or least dont have that snigger on your foggy faces. So long

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