Abs' Aberrations: August 2005

Planes, trains & automobiles

Bus to Madras tonight. Back on Thursday morning
Fly to Delhi on Thursday night (1 September)
Drive to Agra on Saturday morning ( 3rd September)
Fly back to Bangalore 6th morning
Train to Calcutta on 11th evening ( not the best date for travel....)
Back to Bangalore on 28th

And just like that...September's gone. However, regular updates from Delhi, Agra & Calcutta along with more images than I can fit on my 128 MB Nikon memory card....I suspect the Taj itself will command one whole round of memory, especially if we can make it there under the moonlight.

Around the Sun

Every so often thanks to genius that is beyond my intellect but not beyond my understanding, comes along a sublime person or group of people who elucidate a common, shared passion in a unique art form...a book, a piece of writing, most often by way of song. One such group of individuals call themselves R.E.M. Although I had the tremendous good fortune to watch them full throttle, it was before they came out with their latest manifestation of the common bond that R.E.M & their fans (me) share - "Around the Sun" which was released late last year but which I have only fully absorbed lately. The album received terrible reviews & accussed Michael Stipe of a lack of creativity & dearth of the usual R.E.M magic. However, to me once again his words echo the need of the times. A piece from the album below. And for the R.E.M fans, if you want to hear a completely new experimental composition check out "The Outsiders" from the same album.
The entire album: eminently listenable; with piercing lyrics from time to time.

Final Straw from "Around the Sun"

Now I don't believe and I never did
That two wrongs make a right.
If the world were filled with the likes of you
Then I'm putting up a fight. I'm putting up a fight.
Putting up a fight. make it right. make it right.

Now love cannot be called into question.
Forgiveness is the only hope I hold.
And love- love will be my strongest weapon.
I do believe that I am not alone.

For this fear will not destroy me.
And the tears that have been shed
It's knowing now where I am weakest
And the voice in my head. in my head.

Then I raise my voice up higher
And I look you in the eye
And I offer love with one condition.
With conviction, tell me why.
Tell me why.
Tell me why.
Look me in the eye.
Tell me why

EB reunion

Java City...truly the soul of Bangalore for me: good times with great friends and what better place than Java city?

From Left - Right: Me, Adi, Kiran & Aneesh: a pleasant EB reunion

Moth Smoke

I woke up wondering this morning why it is that anarchy seems to have such a powerful hold over me. Like a moth to a flame almost....my fascination & attraction for the character Agastya Sen in "English, August" has not diluted despite having read the book at least 20 times & that too over a 4 year period. My mind refuses to accept reality as I see it...urging me, pushing me, taunting me into committing acts which completely change my surroundings...point in case being this whole LatAm fascination. But I digress as always:

I have been voraciously reading over the last 5 months to make up for the forced holiday from books that the dear Communist Party welcomed me with when I set foot in China. However, no character, until now, has caught my fancy as has Darashikoh Shezad: a young, Pakistani struggling to find meaning amongst the dusty, corrupt & dangerous streets of Lahore. Very similar to my dear August Sen but August turned out to be infinitely more intelligent or cowardly whichever way you look at it (sometimes they're the same thing)...a trait that Hamid has ensured Darashikoh is not blessed with. I haven't finished the book yet but the only disappointing thing about it so far is the lack of a more philosophical angle within the characters. Maybe Ernesto Guevara will prove more interesting still. However, one of the best reads in a long time. Pick it up on Amazon as I'm not sure about how widely circulated it is:
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"Moth Smoke" by Mohsin Hamid

Hamid subjects contemporary Pakistan to fierce scrutiny in his first novel, tracing the downward spiral of Darashikoh "Daru" Shezad, a young man whose uneasy status on the fringes of the Lahore elite is imperiled when he is fired from his job at a bank. Daru owes both the job and his education to his best friend Ozi's father, Khurram, a corrupt former official of one of the Pakistan regimes who has looked out for Daru ever since Daru's father, an old army buddy of Khurram's, died in the early '70s. As the story begins, Ozi has just returned from America, where he earned a college degree, with his wife, Mumtaz, and child. From the moment they meet, Daru and Mumtaz are drawn to each other. Mumtaz is fascinated by Daru's air of suppressed violence, and Daru is intrigued by Mumtaz's secret career as an investigative journalist; the two share a taste for recreational drugs, sex and sports. But their affair really begins after Daru witnesses Ozi, driving recklessly, mow down a teenage boy and flee the scene. Daru decides then that Ozi is morally bankrupt. But as Daru becomes more dependent on drugs, the arrogance he himself has absorbed from his upper-class upbringing stands out in stark contrast to his circumstances. Daru's noirish, first-person account of his moral descent, culminating with murder, interweaves with chapters written in the distinctive voices of the other characters. One in particular comes vividly to life: Murad Badshah, a sort of Pakastani Falstaff, officially the head of a rickshaw company, but kept afloat by drug dealing and robbery. Hamid's tale, played out against the background of Pakistan's recent testing of a nuclear device, creates a powerful image of an insecure society toying with its own dissolution.

Pondicherry & Auroville

One of the most perfect weekends ever. Where do I begin? I guess from the start. Let us chronicle these good times well:

Day 1 – Saturday morning

We (Vijay, Aneesh, Kiran & me) reached Pondicherry at 10 AM after an overnight journey by bus from Bangalore. Pondy was hot, humid & sunny. We immediately made our way to our hotel called Hotel Mass. Not wanting to check in this early ( since it was a 24 hour check out) we decided to hit the only place any of us knew in Pondy called Café Rendezvous. We partook in our first cerveza there at around 11 AM along with a delicious breakfast.

Following breakfast we then hopped down the road to another great café run by a French Aurovillian called Pierre. Here is where we discovered Satsanga. Satsanga has to be experienced. We could easily have been anywhere in Maastricht or Brugge relaxing over our pints & snacks. Simply brilliant. We spent 4 hours at Satsanga and then headed to check in to our hotel.

After checking in to our hotel around 5 PM, having showered etc, we ventured out to buy “a few drinks” for the evening. We also got in touch with an AIESEC’er from Pune who was living in Auroville now. She was at NLDS with Kiran & Aneesh. A masterstroke of luck if there ever was one. So Sharwari and her friend Meera came over to our hotel in the evening and over a few drinks invited us to a party at Auroville. So we headed to Auroville in a cab around 9 ish but not before a few more drinks and Aneesh, Kiran & me swallowing a nifty little pill called Party Smart.

Reached Auroville and headed to Sharwari’s house where we met a few other young Aurovillians & learnt more about the Aurovillian philosophy, their reasons for being here & their views over a few beers. Post that, we headed to the party which was in a house with around 60 people and the people just kept on increasing as the night progressed. Great music, they’d also set up a projector which screened old 80’s music videos. Simply mindblowing evening. We finally headed back to our hotel and ate piping hot dosa’s on the road at 3 AM before crashing.

Day 2

Sunday saw us wake up by around 11 and head out once again to meet Sharwari & Meera for breakfast. A great south Indian breakfast at Surguru later, we moved to Casablanca for some Auroville handicrafts & other shopping. That done, time again found is in Satsanga where we were joined by Vijay’s friend Lisa, another Aurovillian.

The evening was a rocking room party where we were joined by the two girls again and yet again party smart did the trick!

The next day was a lazy wake up and heavy lunch as we bid adieu to Pondy.

Many things came out of these three days: my fascination for Auroville and the people’s philosophy, “party smartisms”, meeting some really interesting people. Satsanga..I could go on. Amidst all this was of course the thrill of riding in the front of an auto, walking around Pondy at 5 AM with Aneesh hunting for dosas, sitting on the roof top of an Auroville house at 4 AM in the cool, crisp breeze talking about life & its many questions over an equally crisp, cool beer....I could not have asked for more. A special thanks to Sharwari & Meera for being great hosts.

My first time but I’m already planning my next!
All in all Pondicherry could be summed up by saying its as rocking as a polar bear's first date!
(if you didnt get the above sentence, you need to start taking Party Smart!)

Truly my inspiration

From the time I was around 13 years old I begun to follow this man's every move. Admittedly he has had his pitfalls & his faults as do all men. He has continued to rise above them and keep doing what he was born for.

Probably one of the most exhilarating moments in my life when I got to spend 2 days on the field with him. This was in 1998:

A tribute to the man.
Endless columns will be written about you but this is my personal thanks to you mate. Thanks for being the inspiration that is you.

Cricket needn't be turned into a carnival

First off, I have to say that I will eat my humble pie with a generous dash of whipped cream & cranberry sauce. The Poms (read Flintoff) did what I didn't think they could, albeit by 2 runs. Without rendering long homilies about either teams' performance, suffice to say that Andrew Flintoff has grown in stature through these last 5 days. Flintoff's self belief, confidence and consequently performance will now have peaked. He is today, now, the most dangerous all rounder in world cricket...probably the most dangerous since Ian Botham. Freddie Flintoff take a bow. The poms, a pat on the back. Old Trafford beckons next & with it, interesting times for my boys in baggy green. Its Freddie's home turf so expect more fireworks is what I'll say.

The Edsbaston test in being the most thrilling encounter I've ever witnessed goes to prove a point that is taking on increasing stridency in the recent past. With the advent of twenty20, many doomsayers predicted Test cricket & even the one day game losing audiences & hence relevance. I've consistently said that test cricket is test cricket and I think the dispute stands settled. While twenty20 is good, wholesome fun with buxom cheerleaders, bands, beers & bonhomie all around, the 10 year olds watching the game will not be inspired to take up cricket with the burning desire to play for their countries by watching cricket interspersed with scantily clad women titillating their Dads next to them holding their pints of lager. What will inspire them is the sight of Warne bowling 30 masterful overs unchanged, Flintoff bowling, Flintoff batting Flintoff celebrating, Flintoff putting on 70 runs for the last wicket, Glenn Mcgrath getting his 500th and on and on. These are the sights & moments that spur an aspiring cricketer and for so long as there will be aspiring cricketers, a ticket to an Ashes contest will be dearer than any cricketing contest on earth. More power to twenty20 I say but cricket as it was meant to be played & watched always will be so long as we have games like the Edgbaston one.