Monday 31 December 2012

Festiwitti # 4 : Goodbye to 2012





Goodbye, 2012. You had us on a see-saw all year.

You kept us on tenterhooks for 355 days, wondering whether we’re all going to die. In the meantime, you showed us that Felix Baumgartner, at least, isn’t afraid to ! You took away Verghese Kurien,Yash Chopra, Rajesh Khanna, Jagjit Singh, Ravi Shankar, Jaspal Bhatti, among others. You gave us Gangnam Style, and made sure one billion of us participated in the viewing of that particular bit of madness. You gave us Hurricane Sandy , and you gave us Narendra Modi and Barack Obama – again ! You finally got Qasab his just desserts, but you left Nirbhaya’s justice for the New Year.

In 2013, what are you going to do for us ? What are you going to take away ? Please give us more hope, and less heartbreak; please ensure more hilarity, more humility, less hedonism, more humanitarianism, less haste…..please warm the globe less and our hearts and our hearths more…..please restore faith, and dispense with futility.

Happy New Year to all the people in my blogworld. Here’s hoping that the coming year brings you fun, freedom and fulfilment.

Sunday 30 December 2012

Salad #17 : Archimedes' Principle Revisited


In the mid-eighties, my preoccupation with the human mind, its complexities, its aberrations, its machinations and its unpredictability, bordered almost on the obsessive. Although I was barely 22, I was struck by the number of unhappy people I met, and of the degree of the absorption of those people in their own unhappiness. Out of those encounters and the accompanying conversations and resultant thought processes, was this article born.

I request the reader’s forbearance for what will probably be the longest post on this blog. The only reason that I am sharing this, a full 25 years later, is that I am convinced that it still continues to be relevant.

At some stage in my early adulthood, I actually did want to be a psychiatrist or a clinical psychologist; I abandoned that objective very quickly because it was prevailed upon me that to embark on that career was to invite a life of destitution and penury.

Read on, dear visitor. And do leave a comment at the end on this article’s relevance. Thank you !

“Archimedes’ Principle Revisited”
or
“Metaphysical Physics – With a Dash of Geography” (1987)


“ When an individual is immersed in self-pity, the volume of the individualism immersed is equal to the volume of self-respect displaced “

1.
       PURPOSE


I have mused, on many an occasion, about the precise connection between self-respect and self-pity, about where the former ends and the latter begins; and I have had little difficulty in convincing myself that the two are indeed directly an irrevocably linked, that the decadence of one leads to the nascence of the other, and that the second stage is not possible without the first.

The purpose of examining this basic principle from a metaphysical perspective and in the context of the late twentieth century, is to advance the suggestion that this is a real phenomenon, that every person experiences it at one point of time or another in his life, and that the concept deserves a judicious amount of thought.

2. DEFINITIONS


Self-pity
is a state of the mind characterised by the presence of a perpetual and lugubrious preoccupation with oneself, in a manner that seeks to explain that the protagonist has been severely and undeservedly wronged, and that all the other characters in the scenario are the villains of the piece.
Self-respect
, on the other hand, is a state of the mind characterised by the presence of an equable awareness of oneself as an individual who matters in the scheme of things; in a manner that precludes the possibility of extreme egoism or excessive superiority, but simply incorporates the acceptance of one’s virtues and vices – to the extent one has realised them – with satisfaction, and even a microcosm of complacence.


The equality referred to in the enunciation of the Principle above seeks only to be philosophical – and therefore is immeasurable and has no mathematical connotation whatsoever.

The principle is best explained by considering a diagrammatic picturisation. One of the causes of self-pity is paranoia: please consider the case-study “then diagram” just after the conclusion of this section.

A “then diagram” is a drawing of a mental state that can only be executed by a person who has experienced that which the drawing seeks to explain; and by the same token, can usually only be comprehended by a person who has had a similar experience (no presumptive aspersion on you, reader !)

A “then diagram” is distinct from a “when diagram”, which is a projection of a perceived future happening (I have done a couple of these); and from a “now diagram” (which is the picturisation by a third party of a current happening.



3. “THEN DIAGRAM” – THE ZONES

The Zone of Megalomania and Extreme Egoism is that area which obviates the possibility of any self-respect or self-pity, for the simple reason that they are not attainable. A mind that resides in this region is secure in the knowledge of its own superiority and untouchability; the person concerned can never feel sorry for himself – only for others…….and the question of self-respect does not arise, as the turgidity of the ego leaves no room for that noble feeling. The Revisited Principle therefore discounts this Zone.

The Zone of Self-Respect and Individualism is the perpetual residence of the thinking mind, and it is this Zone which the Revisited Principle considers in the first instance. A mind inhabitant in this Zone enjoys the feeling of living in a mental Utopia, with an approach that is distinctly positive but does not go to extremes.

When any of the conditions required for continuity in this Zone fall short of fulfilment, the mind enters the Zone of Self-Pity and Nihilism. In this area, rational thought does not exist, and the mind perpetually fights to stay on the surface of a seething quagmire of confusion, uncertainty and adverse attitudes. Success or failure in this schizophrenic battle determines the entry of the mind into the lower Zone.

The Zone of Perennial Vegetability – or the Kitchen Garden – marks the beginning of the end of the mental decadence initiated by the mind’s admission into the Zone of Self-Pity and Nihilism.

4.
       “THEN DIAGRAM” – THE LINES

The Line of Superiority is the metaphysical equivalent of the Arctic Circle, and separates the Zone of Megalomania from the Zone of Self-Respect; or, in other words, separates those who are normal thinkers from those who imagine that they are supernormal thinkers.

The Line of Inferiority  is the metaphysical equivalent of the Equator, and is the tightrope between mental equilibrium and neurosis.

The mind that lies between the above two lines is what is usually classified as a “normal” or an “average” mind.

The Line of Irreversibility is the metaphysical equivalent of the Antarctic Circe, and is the borderline between neurosis and the first tentative advances towards flaccid insanity.

The mind that lies between these two lines is unstable, but not irredeemably so.

5.
       CASE STUDY: ACUTE PARANOIA

These, then, are the stages of paranoia. The alphabets indicated are as in the diagram:

A:  The stage of distinction (“I matter !”)                   
 In which an individual is secure in the knowledge of his self-respect, and proceeds unworried along his routed course

B: The stage of disillusion (“So what ? Everybody else matters, too !”)
In which certain circumstances come about to make the individual stop dead and wonder whether his routed course is the right course

C: The stage of distortion (“Some of them matter more !”)
In which the individual convinces himself that the routed course is the wrong course

D: The stage of disturbance   (“I matter least !”)
In which the individual finds this conviction beginning to affect his mental equilibrium, and feels the first stirrings of pity at the fact that, while all men are unequal, some men do appear to be more unequal than others

E: The stage of disembodiment (“I don’t matter at all !”)
In which the individual loses control of rational thought and begins to draw several conclusions – all of them wrong – from the circumstances surrounding his problem.

F: The stage of disintegration (“Why me ?”)
In which the individual begins to cave in on himself, since the ramparts of his self-respect have proved too ephemeral and flimsy to withstand the continuing assault of self-pity

G: The stage of dissociation (“Who am I ?”)
In which the individual, having comprehensively abandoned his own identity, begins to search for it all over again

H: The stage of dysfunction
In which the individual discovers the he who seeks, does not always find; and succumbs to the forces that contrive to drag him into the no-man’s land beyond the Line of Irreversibility.


6.      ENDNOTES

The metamorphosis explained above is not entirely irreversible. The presence of latent willpower, a supportive soulmate or a genuine, concerned friend have been found to be invaluable in bringing the discomposed mind back to the land of the living, even as late as Stage F.

Beyond F, however, the rot is usually found to have been set in too deep.

At Stage H, the volume of individualism immersed is metaphysically equal to the volume of self-respect displaced (and replaced by self-pity). The mind that once reposed squarely between the Lines of Superiority and Inferiority, now reposes equally squarely between the Lines of Inferiority and Irreversibility, with a possible final extension into the Kitchen Garden.

QED.

The gradual reduction in size of the rectangles depicted in the diagram denotes the notional shrinkage in the intrinsic value of the mind as it passes through the successive stages.

Let not the facetious tone of the Revisited Principle (in relation to its enunciation, that is ) bias the reader in favour of the viewpoint that what s/he is reading is fictional. There have been detractions from medical exactitude, but these in no way interfere with the validity of the concept.


[ Reproduced in original and unexpurgated form from “Brain Waves” by O.D.Nanus © 1987]

Saturday 29 December 2012

Salad # 16 : Still Life

Still Life (1984)

Starry night
quiet
as the flow of a teardrop
down the laughter lines
of an aged face
That is the way it was meant
to be
but no, not here.
A night
that would be silent
broken
by the anguished howl
of a whelp in exquisite
torment;
by the monotonous
clang
of the watchman's baton
making contact with the weathered 
steel
of a telegraph pole;
by the abrupt wail
of a sleeping
child
writhing in the agony
of some meaningless
nightmare;
by the strident chirp
of a cricket, and
the sated burp
of a horned toad.
The clamour deafens me
I cannot sleep 
I am too alive.


Salad # 15 : Dire Straits

Like everyone in my generation, I was very taken with the music of Dire Straits in the '80s.......one favourite was the song "Where do you think you're going ?". I used to sing it to myself very often, until one day, an entirely different set of lyrics formed themselves, so I decided to put it down on paper.

Dire Straits (1986)

Where do you think you're going
Don't you know it's dark outside
Do you know what you are doing
or are you taking yourself for a ride ?

Do you understand the changes
that time has wrought upon your soul ?
Do you see your friends are all strangers
because your relationships were never whole ?

You think there is no reason
why you shouldn't go on as you are
You say this is the season
to hitch your wagon to a star

Where do you think you're going ?
You're living in the past
Your decadence is showing
Your indifference is vast

You're fast approaching the time when
your mind will start to rot
Your field of vision willl be blue, then
and the water will be hot

Where do you think you're bound now ?
You're almost ripe to be put on the shelf
There's still time - turn around now
Come back - and look into yourself

Friday 28 December 2012

Festiwitti # 3 : New Year ? Nothing new, yaar !

New Year ? Nothing New, Yaar !

Nothing new ? Is that so ? No, you're wrong. 2013 is a year that deserves special treatment.

Why, do you ask ?
Simply because, for a while there, the Mayans had us making like the Gauls, and believing that the sky might just possibly fall on our heads in 2012. And  that obviously didn’t happen, so it’s time to celebrate; to make 2013 a landmark year. By doing something (or possibly, many things) differently….or by doing different things.

To start with, let’s get the date right, huh ? Let’s not spend the first week of 2013 writing the date as xx/ 01/2012 and then saying “Oh, crap !” and scoring it out.

And then, take a look at which ones among this list of possibilities is yours to explore:



1.   Make a bucket list
The movie may have made this activity famous, but it’s been around for a while before that. You’ll be surprised how path-breaking and how liberating this activity can be. Sit down and make a list of the 10 (or 20, or 50) things you’d like to do, or the places you’d like to see, or the people you’d like to meet, before you kick the bucket. Make the list as extravagant as you like, taking care to ensure that each item on it is achievable , given the right focus. This will give a new fillip to your efforts, a new strength to the path you’re already taking.

2.  Tell your boss to go fly a kite 
Seriously. Once in a while, you need to have a little chat with him or her that isn’t linked to a performance appraisal. In all probability, there’s a lot you need to say. So flesh it out in your mind, and then just go say it. Check out how liberated you feel at the end of it.

3.    Explore your latent talent
Sure, you have talent – almost everyone does. It’s just that you simply haven’t tried looking at it, because you think your metier lies elsewhere. Step out of yourself for a bit and take a good look. Do you write ? Now’s the time to start a column, lots of people will want to know what you know. Do you like teaching ? The country needs you. Do you play a musical instrument ?  Upload a video on YouTube. DO something, don’t just let your talent lie there.

4.    Do something socially meaningful
Support a cause.  Financially “adopt” a child.  Donate to a charity. Join the “Teach India” initiative. Lend your skills to an NGO on an honorary basis. Do something that will make a difference. Merely because you wish to do it.  Merely because you can. And see how good it makes you feel.

5.   Rekindle the spark
Benjamin Disraeli once said that “it destroys one's nerves to be amiable every day to the same human being”. All equations between people tend to get frayed with time, either because of inadequate nurturing or for any other reason. Likewise, it’s possible that your relationship with your partner has been taking a beating in the recent past.  Treat each point of discord, each misunderstanding, each argument as a log of wood – pile the lot together and set fire to it. Bask in the warmth and use it to rekindle the spark between you. It’s never too late, but it does need one person to take that step.

6.   Pamper yourself
Tired of doing things just because they’re expected of you ? Of slaving yourself half to death meeting people’s expectations, whether at work, at play, or at home ? It’s a part of life, believe me – we ALL do it. So keep it in suspended animation for a while. Focus on the things you would like to do to make YOU happy. An expensive spa treatment. A trip to London.  A Bose stereo system. A week of lying back in your armchair and going through a pile of twenty books. Think of the five things you’ve denied yourself for the past five years, and gift them all to yourself this year.

7.   Test your will
A bad habit hasn’t been born yet, that can’t be kicked. If you have one, try getting rid of it NOW. Not as a New Year Resolution (that will ensure that you never do it !), but just to show yourself that you can, and you always could, but just chose not to, all this time.

The list is endless. If you decide to try this out, make sure you share your experiences in the comment box below !

And in conclusion, here's a final thought....



Hello, dear readers and friends
Pause and reflect, as another year ends
Whether you've done all you said you would
Whether everything that's happened has been good
Whether the stumbling blocks have given you food
for thought;
and if not,
whether in fact they should !

In 2013, it does behoove
all of us to greatly improve
on our resolutions of the previous year;
on the time we spend with near and dear;
on our efforts towards a good career;
and on the route that we must follow
to reach the end of the rainbow.

In the mad rush to achieve our ends
We'd do well to remember, friends,
that - although it's always great to gain
nothing's greater than being humane !

All the very best to you, readers – here’s hoping your 2013 scintillates !! Happy New Year !


Salad # 14 : Camouflage

Camouflage (1984)

Characters
in a masquerade
Cowards
who hide behind masks
fashioned at
home
Facades
of blank indifference
harbouring appalling
complexities
Insecurity
Inadequacy
Inconfidence
Such things cannot be
revealed
since jeering laughter
is unpleasant to the
ear
No one bothers -
would you ?
Like a rusted guard-rail
that few care to
electroplate
these people slap on
another
coat of paint
and go about looking
bright
and new
and false
until it wears off

Wednesday 26 December 2012

Salad # 13 : Poetry Redefined


In the ‘80’s, I wrote volumes of prose and verse on what I thought poetry was ! I put one in “ Candid Camera “ (Salad #1); here’s another sample…..



Message in a Bottle (1985)

Emotions
brewed by events uncertain
fermented by time
distilled in the depths of the soul
bottled within the heart
cased in a recess of the mind
displayed in the midnight of the eyes
sold to a senseless consumer……

That is poetry.






Raison D’etre (1986)

The urge to express….
The urge to depress….
The urge to impress ?
 Poetry – the urge
              - the surge
              - the purge
              - the dirge  

Monday 17 December 2012

WanderLust # 1 : Susegad

WanderLust

I was inspired by a friend to add on a new section this month - a travel blog. Why not, I thought to myself - even if I don't travel much, and even if I don't have holidays exciting enough to write about. At least I have something to say - and I insist on saying it, and can only recommend Voltaire's advice to you: that you may not agree with what I have to say, but you could consider defending to the death my right to say it !!

Chapter 1 : Susegad
A "private" beach

To tell it in Wikipedia's words:  "Susegad" is a concept often associated with the Indian state of Goa. Derived from the Portuguese word socegado ("Quiet"), it is normally mistaken for the relaxed, laid-back attitude towards life that is said to have existed historically in Goa, a former Portuguese territory. What Susegad actually means, according to most experts is a contented form of life existent in the state. Goa is described by a Sunday Times writer as "South Asia’s Latin Quarter: indulgent, tolerant, capricious, steeped in a tropical lassitude and wedded to the sea." The concept may also carry negative connotations such as "indolence" and in recent years it has been suggested that the relaxed Goan culture of Susegad has given way in the face of modern stresses.

Well, not everyone can tell it like Wikipedia. Goa, an hour away by air from Mumbai, is, not unlike Mauritius, a land of lavish hotel properties, wide open spaces, beaches of all shapes and sizes, and hordes of tourists.

I don't know much about the backpacker's Goa; I know even less about the fishing-village-visiting-resident Goa. But I DO know about the corporate Goa, and the hedonistic visitor's Goa. So.....here are a few do's and don'ts - not necessarily written in the traditional way.

Church of St. Francis of Assisi
  1. Assuming you're travelling from Mumbai - please, please don't try driving there. The roads are crap, the traffic is horrific, and you might like to look at topping up your life insurance and updating your will before you leave.
  2. If you're the wallow-in-the-sand variety, remember that there really is no such thing as an exclusive beach. The five- and seven- star properties do try and invisibly ring-fence their bits of sand, but it's not really allowed.
  3. Unless you want to be wrung out to dry, do not hire a car / SUV through the hotel at which you're staying. Bargain with the taxi guys just outside, but make sure you keep the hotel informed.
  4. The much-hyped Goa River Cruises still aren't expensive, but the VFM ("value for money") coefficient has taken a terrific beating in recent times. You can skip this one.
  5. Britto's at Baga Beach still serves up a mean set of dishes - if you don't mind eating with your feet on sand, in a  non-air-conditioned environment.
  6. To feel like a millionaire, stay at the Park Hyatt; to try and become a millionaire, stay at the Cidade de Goa (they have a casino); if you can't decide what you are but still like to live high off the hog, stay at the Fort Aguada; and if you're confused, there's the Kenilworth, the Marriott, the Renaissance, and any number of other fancy properties to choose from.
  7. You're welcome to try the watersports, but not if you're squeamish. There was this father of a teenaged daughter who sprinted back from the water to the hotel, yelling, "that guy sexually touched my daughter on the jet-scooter !" The purveyors of Goan water merchandise are all male, and some of them may be lusty. Keep your hair (if you're male), and your chastity belt (if you're female), on.
  8. There are beaches everywhere. Naturally, they all have sand, in varying degrees. They also have rocks, vendors, flea markets, con men, Russians, drugs, watersports, insalubrious elements and fishing boats. Define what you want from your beach, and visit only those that will give you the necessary levels of nirvana.
  9. Do see the churches - some of them are outstanding. They're everywhere, and many of them are World Heritage Sites.
  10. Finally - Goa is a place to relax. Try not to do too much. It's a lotus-eater's paradise. That's what "susegad" is about.
I'm not an authority on the place. For those who are Goaphiles, my apologies if I have inadvertently offended you - you're welcome to add your contribution.

Friday 14 December 2012

Salad # 12 : Elegy

Elegy (1985)

This is the tale of a woman who lived in sin
Walked the streets of town with a dissolute grin
Wearing rag-doll clothes and the scent of gin
Making pennies off the men she invited in

She was born at Christmas, on a cold, cold night
Came into a room that was devoid of light
Her father was a seaman whose ship had moved on
'Twas on the floor of a brothel that she was born

Her mother was careful to raise her child
Into a flaxen-haired temptress who'd drive men wild
When the girl came of age, she was turned out
Into the bold bad world, to see what men were about

No male she met felt anything but
the depth of emotion reserved for a slut
They didn't realise that she was just
a girl playing games with the force of lust

A decade went by, her hunger had grown
Fed by the indifference of the men she'd known
The only set of values that she'd ever seen
Rested snug in the pants of every man's gaberdine


Tired and old and ravaged by disease
Left to her by the men she had tried to please
She eventually turned over and fell asleep
In a hole in a churchyard, six feet deep

The men whose bodies that she had wed
Paid for a gravestone, the epitaph read
" Here lies a woman who spent life giving
Yet only in death has found the joy of living "


Thursday 13 December 2012

Festiwitti # 2 : Silent Night, Holy Smoke !

This article was published in the Telegraph magazine, Kolkata, India, on December 25, 1989. But i'm not posting it under the "Salad" section because I think this one is still, well, green.......

Christmas.....and all that ! (1989)

When we were very young, so young that we weren't even sure what age was all about, Christmas had no meaning: it was just another night during which the grown-ups were invariably out, and we were tucked into bed and told to keep quiet and fall asleep quickly if we didn't want the Indian equivalent of the bogeyman to come along and spirit us away.

Then we grew a little older and read about Dennis and Joey, and realised that Christmas meant snowballs and evergreen trees, stockings pinned up before a fireplace that wasn't lit, and a big fat red man who came calling on a reindeer-drawn sleigh with tons of gaily-wrapped presents in the boot. And we wondered whether we were being deprived, because we never saw the man; we never got any presents; our experience of snow was never allowed to extend beyond the visual; and the only stockings we had were kept under lock and key because they related to school and didn't merit the kind of cavalier treatment Dennis the Menace saw fit to mete out to them.

We grew older still, began to ask the right questions, and suddenly knew a lot that hadn't earlier occurred to us. We were introduced to a phenomenon called pneumonia, that dictated that snow and susceptibility must never be allowed to come together. We were informed that there are Christians and Catholics and Protestants and others, and that those 'others' were not privileged to receive the attentions of Santa Claus, nor were they bound, morally or religiously, to partake of the traditional festivities. We were taught that it smacked of cupidity to expect presents on days other than one's birthday, and refused to subscribe to the dictum that it is more blessed to give than to receive. And we tried and tried but could never quite tell the difference between reindeer and sambhar, until we were eventually informed that one has to visit the right country to be able to understand the distinction.

And Father Time watched all this with a growing sadness until, sick to his stomach with it all, he, like James Hadley Chase's Miss Shumway, waved his wand and brought us the kind of Christmas we were finally able to understand.

We know now that it isn't Christmas, the day, that is particularly important or significant, but more Christmas, the season. We know that this season means iridescent lights on Park Street. We know that it means cotton-wool beards on cardboard cut-outs in display windows. And we know that Christmas means that enterprising shopowners covertly hike prices by 50%, and then overtly reduce them by 25%, and then yell "Discount !" until they're blue in the face.



We know that the onset of the Christmas season means that we must get our black ties and pin-striped suits out of the mothballs and give them a thorough airing, since we'll be using them on and off for a couple of weeks. We know that we'll have to make out a mailing list and spend a small fortune on greetings cards, not because the fires of Bethlehem glow warmly in our hearts, but because a respected gentleman a few years back wrote volumes on something called "public relations", and we know from experience that he was talking sense.

We sing Christmas carols with an elan that we really have no right to feel, because the tune that is running through our minds at the time is either "Careless Whisper", or "Oye Oye", or the Moonlight sonata, according to taste. For most of us who are still in our prime, Santa Claus is experienced through a leather-clad performer on a decibel-packed stage, or a dinner-jacketed evening at a club, or an amber-coloured decanter that has no bottom.

We each do our own thing, singly or in groups, until the clock strikes midnight, and then say "Merry Christmas !" to each other in a manner that suggests that we wouldn't have minded saying "Happy Holi !" instead, had there been a logical enough reason for it. Nobody says "Yo, ho, ho !" any more, because he doesn't want people to think he's drunk. Very few people think at all of Jesus - "I'm an atheist, thank God !" they say, for Dumas made it fashionable. And those who do observe the midnight mass and the Christmas spirit whisper, sotto voce, to Our Mother of Perpetual Succour to gloss over the sins of their hedonistic brethren.

And then, as suddenly as it had begun, it's over, and we move in weary droves to our respective beds, ever mindful of the fact that New Year's Eve is yet to come and we need to conderve our reserves of energy. And as we tuck ourselves in during the wee hours, we fancy we hear a plaintive wail in the darkness:

Silent night, holy night
All is calm, some are tight
Divine decadence ?
Let there be light......




Festiwitti # 1 : Jingle Bills, Jingle Bills

It's back again ~ the Resolution Season, that splendid time of the year when we begin to ponder about what has been and what could be, and try and define parameters for what will  be.

Things have changed.

These days, our children inform us, with the extreme restraint that only the young can exercise in the presence of the hopelessly middle-aged, that "Santa Claus is for babies ~ he doesn't really exist". These days, garment store prices are marked up before they are marked down, and an animal called Cover Charge makes eating at restaurants an unviable proposition.

These days, there are fewer plums in the plum cakes, and the wines are so inadequately aged that one wonders how the grape grew to  fruition in the first place. These days, the party music is so loud that conversation doesn't reign, it pours; not that it matters, because any form of movement other than walking and running qualifies for the description of a dance. Those courageous enough to attempt conversation at social gatherings, speak into a mobile rather than to another human being.

These days, we have the "e-sentiment" - since email and e-greetings are universally free. These days, Santa Claus, had he been one of us, would have been tempted to say "Boo, hoo, hoo, and a Merry Christmas".

amidst the work, the food, the drink
do you sometimes pause, look back and think
 that another twelve months have blundered past
 leaving you musing, quite aghast
that you, again, have not quite met
 that long-awaited, elusive target
 of improving the quality of your life ?

 Good luck. Don't forget to hang up your Christmas stockings (mentally or otherwise) ~after all, it still remains true that it is usually when one asks, that one receives.

My best wishes to all of you for a joyous festive season. Here’s hoping that your 2013 is at least half-full rather than half-empty.



Salad # 11 : On Bombay

All of 33 years ago, I wrote a small essay inspired by a walk through a Mumbai (it was called Bombay then) side-street. The imagery that was brought out in this piece has continued to colour my writings right to the present day.

Bombay: A Jaundiced Perspective (1979)

Bombay. Undoubtedly, a beautiful metropolis. Again undoubtedly, a tarnished metropolis.

Bombay. Pockmarked all over with an awesome multitude of squalid lanes.......lanes that abound in repulsive sights, disgusting sounds and nauseating smells.

You pause at the head of one of these lanes. Dank, gloomy, but it looks safe enough, so you stride in , skirting a seated cow chewing the eternal cud. In the shadows, a long, undulating form glides noiselessly into a convenient hole. The all-pervading stench of putrescence hangs in the air.

You pause again, uncertainly. To proceed or not to proceed, that is obviously the question. Shrugging then, you take a tentative step forward. A dark cloud of mosquitoes rises, wraith-like, from a black pool of stagnant water ahead. You grimace, and tiptoe delicately over it. So far, not much sound to disturb the silence.

The mundane sounds begin a little further on. The discordant howling of a hungry infant sets your teeth on edge, and you wince on hearing the coarse bickering of two nearby women. The stink of garbage has vanished as if it had never been; instead, the sickly-sweet odour of animal excreta and dire poverty assail your sequestered nostrils.

You grimace again, and move on; A rabid mutt glares balefully at you in passing, and you give it a very wide berth indeed. All other sound is drowned out for a moment, by water from a Municipal tap splattering noisily into a steel pail.

An inconspicuous little shoplet tucked into the remains of a head-high wall, almost escapes your notice. The seedy proprietor, doubtless a dealer in doubtful commodities, eyes you with open curiosity as you sidle by. Raucous laughter from the depths of a doorway assaults your eardrums.......immediately after, a falsetto giggle pierces the air.

You are nearly at the end of the lane. With some relief, you increase your pace. A light, musty odour is the only smell that now prevails. Filthy urchins materialise from the gloom and fall in step behind you, following you for a few yards, dragging their feet indifferently on the pitted tar surface of the road.

A couple of long, purposeful strides. You are out of the street now, and exhale a long breath of relief. Bathed in glorious May sunshine, you pause for a moment to soak it in.

You have moved from black onto white.

Check.