[Dreams] Headlines from Chennai I'd love to see!

1) Robots to replace human waste workers in Kotturpuram
2) Dustbins empty for one year now in Korrukupet
3) Man arrested for felling a tree in Kodambakkam
4) Whoever you are, you can be a farmer too! - Farming workshops at Anna University
5) Health Minister opens a city park in the erstwhile Pallikaranai dump yard
6) Twitter abuzz with tweets of exotic birdsongs heard in Chennai
7) Government Museum, Egmore dedicates 2000 sq.ft for ‘Art from Waste’ from around the state
8) Corporation School, Saidapet sets up a recycling plant to make its paper
9) Heavy demand for moonlight cruises on Cooum this Valentine's day
10) Urban planning Alumnus of Harvard elected as the mayor of Chennai.

[Random] Pan to the Palate

On a red hot dance floor,

An empty pan sets the stage.

Through two doors,

Enter oil and butter on skates.

The same question on their faces.

With a raised eyebrow,

‘Why you too, when I’m here?

Overcoming their initial friction,

Losing one in the other,

Light up the dark stage. 

Ginger and garlic, the siamese twins,

Take the first leap in.

Moving left and right, all around,

Till they have worn down their young selves.

Five unique red-blooded tomatoes,

Conforming to the pressure of the blender,

Becoming indistinguishably one,

Join the siamese twins on the floor.

After a while, to heat things up,

Arrive, a dash of powdered red chillies.

They waltz and do their salsa thing

In the heat of fire and spice.

Until the skating oil having had enough,

Steps away from their merriment.

As if there isn’t enough show of strength,

The flashy cashews make an entry.

At first, they all get along well

Then the oil does its hermit trick again.

Things are getting a bit dry.

To lighten the mood, enters the water guy.

‘Let there be music’, shouts the crowd.

And there is, drum beats of green chillies,

Lilting guitar strings of ginger,

And the mellifluous singing of salt.

Now, the plot thickens.

Time for the party’s guest of honour.

Lady Paneer, dressed in gold sheer;

The whole party crowds around her;

Embracing, enveloping, electrifying;

The lady is now, one with all.

Delighted eyes watch this drama;

A watering mouth dreams of a closer look;

Nostrils echo a song of fragrance;

Ears, now hear the rumble of the stomach;

And a hand reaches out to the party floor.

The dancers are welcomed to a place within.

Beginning a journey deep down,

To the destination of their dreams.

[ Inspired by: http://www.vegrecipesofindia.com/paneer-butter-masala/ ]

[Books] Asterix and the Indomitable Spirit

In a direction, far away from the mess of a city mine is right now, I intend to transport myself to a different time and place, courtesy the legendary Gauls, Asterix and Obelix. Nothing like some Asterix comics to lift your mood like a bunch of helium balloons. This evening, to take my mind off of now, I decided to jump headlong into ‘Asterix and the Goths’. 

The deliciousness of Asterix lies in the details. So much to be relished if you relax enough to take in even those little panels in the background, not even connected to the plot of the story. One such in this particular book flashes by. A woodpecker pecks away at a tree and is almost about to fell it down and there’s an owl peering out of its hole in the same tree, tapping on its head with its feathery wings and looking down at the woodpecker, as if to ask, “Wood here?” 

The other thing I savor to the brim is the sheer ingenuity of the names. To sample a few: Rhetoric for a Gothic interpreter,  Valueaddetax for a British druid, Gastroenteritus and Arteriosclerosus for a couple of Roman soldiers. Like the mere glimpse of the face of a few movie actors, just this is enough to get you cackling away!

The remarkable fact is that, Asterix collection is a translation. Perhaps, it could be said there’s plenty of similarity between the French and English languages, but these Gauls would shake their head saying ‘No way!”

The way the plots are intertwined, with the history and geography of the places they travel to, as well as times then and now, is simply wow. This brings to my mind, a favorite author of mine. Asterix and Somerset Maugham stand connected in the way they both travel around our world, only at different times, offering different perspectives. 

Somerset Maugham is the man of details, sculpting and polishing his stories of people around the world to etch those exotic characters rather like an engraving in your mind’s frame. While that be so, our Gauls have the last laugh. Herein lies, a rich collection of comic commentary to the cultural details of countries. From another book, British fighting factions calling a time-out at 4 in the evening to have a relaxed cup of tea and biscuits, pops to mind. At this point, Obelix looks at Asterix and says, “These Britons are crazy!” This being Obelix’s standard line wherever he travels. 

The storyline generally follows this path: The Gauls stand strong against the all powerful Caesar’s army; In course of time, some trouble comes their way or they are invited to clear trouble for someone near or far and off they go, full of cheer to set things right. You know how it’s going to end, around a banquet table of roasted wild boars and glowing embers of the campfire, with stories of the adventures of Asterix and Obelix shared with the people of the village and Cacofonix, the bard, tied up to a tree and all well with the world. For a moment, makes you believe that all the troubles of now are transient and soon, we’d be in our own version of this banquet table, regaling tales of triumph to our near and dear. 

In some ways, no matter how much you may be sinking within, books such as this are the very magic potion to fill you with the indomitable spirit.

[Echo] Stream of Chennai's Consciousness

An elderly lady walking forlornly, a folded umbrella in her hand; A man smiling at a little child, as they both get off the bus, a just-born relationship in the journey they shared, scattering in the wind with that bye; A guy throwing a plastic bottle into a puddle of water and smiling with glee; A girl searching for mobile signal in the middle of the road; A man, moving ahead with a victorious smile, to fill his bike’s tank; A long queue in front of the ATM, the rich and the poor, united in their wait; Some chic youngsters talk to a lady selling tender coconuts, the fierceness of nature bringing out the tenderness of humanity; People’s eyes seem to peer deeply; Long queues and empty aisles in shops;  Looking up from his phone, a teenager looks intently at the person next to him. The man who has mobile signal strength, gazed with reverence, like a celebrity; A person looking at a packet of candles as if it were a pack of gold biscuits; A middle aged person shivering at the slightest gust of wind, in fear, with a question at the sky, ‘Have you got more for me?’; A lady walks around her house, lighting oil lamps, like a leaf out of the book of the past; Bus depots overflowing with people leaving the city they dreamt of living in, the city they left their homes to make a living; A lady standing in her nightgown and blouse, saying she left her house, just as she was, escaping the rising waters; An elderly couple refusing to leave their shelter in their home in the second floor, even as water stands at the first floor level, the reluctance of leaving one’s home, no matter how unsafe, resplendent in their hearts; A three-year old standing on a motorbike, in between his parents, with arms outstretched and face kissing the incoming breeze; A grandfather, father and son tasting some pakoras and bondas on a wayside shop; A man staring with disbelief at the piles of garbage, plastic covers of every colour and shape, strewn across the beautiful beach, he jogs on every day; A police convoy of jeeps respectfully guiding a suctioning truck; Hyundai and Honda owners getting on a lorry to buy groceries for their homes; Fishermen cruising on their boats inside the city, fishing for sinking human life; A shop-owner writing out a cash bill, his unaccustomed hands feeling the strain. A couple holding hands and walking together, cellphones forgotten, internet forsaken, just happy to be in the company of each other; A man taking shelter in a movie hall, where he saw a disaster of a movie, just days ago, reflecting on his city’s disaster, just then. A couple of thirty year olds listen to a wise sixty year old and therein, tales of past and visions of future unfold, on the stage of that strange present. 

[Experiences] Life of (Chenn)ai!

Hot and humid Chennai always had a soft corner for the rain lady. He would wait with dreamy eyes, eagerly looking at the ocean, waiting for her to float by. At times, she would arrive on time and be just right to quench his thirst. But at times, like now, the December of 2015, she becomes so fierce, so full of passion that our guy is simply dumbstruck!

The reality right now: Roads caving in; Lakes breaching; Streets flooding. Electricity turned off to keep people safe; Inverters long done with dispensing the last drops of current; Children holed up in homes with no way to exert their physical energies; On social media, float around, images of cars submerged in water, of water pipes bursting out from the roads and of people in neck-deep water.

While nature streaks havoc outside, humanity rises like a benevolent wave. Hear news of mosques opening their doors to people of all religion; Of multinational companies sheltering the homeless; Of reel heroes turning real heroes, wading in deep waters, rescuing people in the city. Trains running; Traffic cops working; Fisher folk rescuing people inland; The world rushing in, with prayers and relief support. Conservative Chennai opening its doors to strangers. In power-shut dark homes, people lighting up homes with smiles and kind enquiries.

Courage and compassion shines in unexpected corners of Chennai. Waters will recede. Hoping this spirit remains. Why should we come together only in times of disaster? Nothing has changed. We have not been given super powers overnight. We are the same people, bickering over pointless issues, just a few days ago. If we could turn this energy and focus, that is obviously inherent in us, even at good times, towards the community, can we not solve many such problems even before they arise? 

Scientists in ivory towers saying theoretically they have solutions for all the problems whereas it takes decades to reach the common man, always a little too late. We have umpteen engineering colleges and an IIT to boot but have roads caving in. We still don’t have renewable energy sources to get us back on our feet instantly. There’s something missing in the picture. We should build bridges linking these seemingly disparate worlds. Opposed to this culture of students being preoccupied about grades and placements, if their involvement in their communities is welcomed and encouraged, wouldn’t that be a more satisfying education to them? Wouldn’t they leave with a smile of having been of use even before they became productive workers? We are a ‘feeling’ city, no doubt. We empathize and go beyond our limits to answer calls of help. Shouldn’t we also work on becoming a ‘thinking’ city that foresees and prepares?

Opening my eyes, I seem to have started in a placid lake and drifted away to unchartered waters. Perhaps, my thoughts too are mere things moving on their own accord, in this gushing river of my here and now!

[Reflections] A long-lost love!

Why did I leave you long ago, amidst the whiteness of silence? Why did I shake your hands off and run away when there was so much life in us?

Those innocent, instinctive, instantaneous moments of magic we shared! I would simple decide to come near you and we connected; we bloomed; we flowed; we laughed with joy.

Do you remember the time when we sang about the breeze of bliss? Or that time when we painted the ocean of awe? Oh yes, that time when we danced to the crackling fire of passion? In spite of this euphoria, I kept saying we are not meant for each other. It seemed too good to be true. I kept running away from you, in search of something else. Nay! In search of you in something else.

Peering into the past, those decades ago, when we first met. In that moment we got to know each other, it felt so right. As natural as breathing. But, as if it were a powerful breath that could bring alive every cell within. As our fingers touched, we weaved new worlds. 

Still, I was not a loyal lover. I kept running away to have many an affair, it would seem. My excuse was those voices within that said, I must listen to what the world was saying. There it was, proclaiming, “Your love cannot be!” Shouting furiously, “There is no future in your love.” I am ashamed to say I let them convince me and so I kept running away from you.

Every single time, I tried to see you in others.

‘Yes, those eyes, right there. That will do.’

‘There’s a little of that smile. That will do.’

‘Don’t I see the shade of those hands? That will do.’

And so, I roamed, lost in the wilderness, searching, searching for you in everyone, and seeing not that you stood right there.

And that last one. It seemed as if there was a lot of you in there. It was almost a mirror image of yourself. “This is it! I have finally found you elsewhere”, I declared. Heart and soul, I jumped right in. Day after day, I kept moving towards that. But gradually, meaning was moving out of my life. It was not you. Turned out to be just a reflection of you… An illusion that pretended to be you. I shattered that mirror when I understood it was taking me farther and farther away from you. Making me lose my confidence in myself… In us. In what we could be. Why hanker after these bits and parts, when you are standing there, right before me? Why you in everything else? Why not simply you? Isn’t there a way to be one again?

Although I’m back here, it feels a little strange. All those years away making it different. I’m hesitant. I wonder often if I’m saying the right thing. I wonder if I can again, make you sing. I reminisce about our days, past. The way we talked. The way the world danced to our music. I worry about our days, future. Will I keep up with you, wherever this winding road leads? Will I take you places and let you touch hearts? The wise of the universe look at me and say, “Just be!” So, I dive into the entirety of this now, where we have dared to be together. Listening to the beat of the heart within and the beat of the keys without. I have decided to hold hands with this love of mine and waltz away. Yes, I have decided to write.

[Experiences] A Taiko Haiku at Auroville

Drums... The very word vibrates with life. I do believe that humankind’s creative energy must have been woken up by the sound of drumbeats. As the first men and women leaped to the beat of the drums, so must have their consciousness leaped ahead. The sense of this I savoured at Auroville this weekend, experiencing a Taiko performance. What is this Taiko, you may ask. To define, it’s a Japanese art form wherein different drums of various shapes and sizes are played upon, to create music and tell a story. At Auroville where I saw it for the first time, it was not just about different sized drums; it was about people from different parts of the world coming together to perform Taiko.

At first glance, on the stage, they were people with different facial features, skin tones and hair colour - A French, a Spaniard, an Indian, Africans and Japanese, but then they turned into magicians filling the air with the oneness of their music. An abstract and perfect introduction to what Auroville is, neatly sketching that spark of unity in diversity. This performance made me realise that art can sometimes make us understand complex concepts intuitively and instantly, that even pages and pages of explanation cannot convey. Personally too, those drum beats woke up the creative energy I thought to be lost within me. An exquisite, extraordinary thing that made me see, hear, touch, taste and sense an awakening. A thing that made every one of my cells leap like that first human.

The beat of the drums was set to the seasons of life. The rustle of the flowers yawning and waking up from the frost in spring; The fiery and fun sun in summer; The final dance of the leaves in autumn; The slowing snow in winter - These elements echoed in the language of drums. In the musicians, I saw their culture reverberating in the way they played their drums. The Africans’ raw emotion in swaying with their entire body as they beat the drums; The joy of the Latino beats; The spirituality of India; The mysticism of Japan - A delight to dwell upon. Truly, Auroville is a microscopic vision of what this world can be, if nations more often held hands than turn their backs to each other. 

Here’s wishing that like these drumbeats, hearts in different parts of the world beat together and echo the same music of hope for humanity!