Nahin chalta hai

I have watched a city of a million dreams held hostage by 20 or so men who have purged from their souls every trace of humanity – let’s not confer on them the dignity of a religion – and I have felt the blood drain out of me.

I have felt a sense of paralysis and rage. My family and I are safe at home, none of my friends were in the hotels or at the other attack sites; but I am numb, not with fear or personal loss, but something far deeper: a sense of overpowering bleakness.

Thus writes Sambit Bal (Editor of Cricinfo) in his post (unrelated to cricket) - An overpowering bleakness. He has captured the essence of what I too have been feeling for the past 36 hours. Like Sambit, I’ve had a job to do through out the day – which I did, but in a highly unproductive and distracted way. In between scanning the Twitterverse, Rediff, CNN and NDTV, and lunch conversations with colleagues, my heart and mind was flitting between Nariman House, Taj, Oberoi, CST Railway Station, and zooming out to morbid visions of The Clash of Civilizations. 

I started writing this post Thursday night partly to stop incessantly reading Twitter/Web coverage of the Mumbai terrorist attacks but mainly to channel my rage, outrage and deep sadness. After 12 hours of following news coverage, I realized that I had stopped referring to Bombay as ‘Bombay’ and started calling it ‘Mumbai’. How is this relevant to what is going on in Mumbai currently? I could not answer this yesterday so I stopped rambling. Today I may have an answer. I had long resisted the switch to ‘Mumbai’, ‘Chennai’ (old name Madras), and ‘Kolkata’ (old name Calcutta) as my personal protest to the wave of regionalism sweeping Indian states. I am part of the unique story of India – we can’t even agree on what to call a city! According to Google Trends, most of India (and the world) has already switched to Mumbai – as far back as 2004. Yesterday marked my personal pledge to Mumbai – not “the city formerly known as Bombay”. This might seem trite or banal to some of you but indulge with me the symbolism for a bit. If this kind of terrorist event does not galvanize the nation’s psyche into united action, nothing else will. 

Coming now to the title of the post – nahin chalta hai (Hindi phrase translates to “it is NOT ok” or “we won’t stand for it”). Essays can be written about the various nuances of the Indian chalta hai attitude but here’s the crash course version. When the city’s roads are a maze of potholes and the motorists put up with it without taking the municipality to task, that is chalta hai in action. When a traffic cop demands a bribe from a motorist and he just pays up because that is how the Indian system works, that is chalta hai. When a city like Mumbai which has had a record 14 terror attacks in the past 15 years and, following the customary mourning, outrage and media attention that follows the aftermath of each attack abates and the incredibly resilient Mumbaikars ‘move on’ and not demand more from the government, that is also sadly chalta hai.

Well, dear friends, Mumbaikars & fellow Indians! it’s time for us to declare to ourselves (and the government) that yeh Nahin Chalta Hai. Let this be the last major terror incident on Indian soil. Let us admire the resilient Mumbai spirit but please let us NOT forget the carnage, outrage, pain and humiliation. Jagadish Santhanam has this exhortation to Mumbaikars: 

Mumbai, please stop getting on with life. Cry! Become angry! Riot! Do something to let those in power know that they can’t go off to sleep and let another terrorist attack happen, knowing well that the Mumbaikar’s resilience and spirit will ensure that they don’t get blamed in the end.

I agree with everything Jagadish has to say except the rioting bit. I was talking to my childhood friend and classmate from Bokaro (who has been living in Mumbai for the past 10+ years) last evening and was encouraged by his words. His words were: “this time it’s different. there’s a lot more anger among Mumbaikars about the brazenness of the attacks.” He expects a citizen backlash (more like “citizen action”) that will hold the state and central government accountable.  

You may or may not agree that the current Mumbai terror attacks are India’s 9/11 but it’s hard to refute Vir Sanghvi (Hindustan Times) in The Longest Day:

..India is now part of the global terrorist battleground. If the international jihadi network decides to treat us on par with Israel, England, America and other countries that are seen as enemies of its twisted version of Islam, then the Bombay attacks may only be a beginning. Worse may follow.

No more anger. No more promises. It’s time to act..

WHAT CAN WE DO?

There are all manners of experts and citizens opining on this subject. My 2 cents on the subject are:

1. India needs a national plan to combat terrorism. Should be a cabinet-level position. Even if we had a competent home minister (and god knows how useless the current one is), an anti-terrorism (or overall intelligence czar) is urgently needed.
2. Secure the borders please! This includes naval & land borders with all neighboring countries (since none of them are India well-wishers). 
3. Start a national Nahin Chalta Hai campaign. We have been a nation of ‘chalta hai’. I say Enough is Enough, damn it! Let’s get the Bollywood stars to produce an entire series on how “we the people” will not tolerate this nonsense anymore. We need a collective change in attitude. Thanks to my friend Shanthala for alerting me to a Hollywood-stars-produced video inspiring young Americans to vote in the presidential election (youtube video embed at the end of the post).
4. As Prem Panicker rightly commented on Twitter, let us drop this national obsession (by our Prime Ministers) to win a Nobel Peace Prize. It is more important for India to take its national security seriously than for it improve diplomatic relations with Pakistan. 
5. I also agree with the prevailing sentiment on the Twitterverse that it’s not just the government that needs to do the work. My friend Mekin tweets that we citizens CAN do, is not let anybody forget this. Life is not the same again & we need to tell each other. Moving on … basically makes these events fade away and the precautions & paranoia that we need to have evaporates. 

There’s a lot to be learned from the experiences of other countries that have borne the brunt of terror attacks (namely US, UK, Israel). The world wants India to be safe and successful so let us be receptive to any help extended to us in this regard.

And a final request, could we please have the Prime Minister or Sonia Gandhi or Vilasrao Deskmukh (heck, all three of them) make a slightly more impassioned speech to give some semblance of confidence to the Indian citizens? Show some spirit, spunk and fire in your belly, people! I have a zillion reasons to detest the current American lameduck President George W Bush but… when he gave the speech in the aftermath of 9/11, most Americans felt united and emboldened (even if you discount his Texan-style “we’ll smoke them out” comments).

An example of a celebrity produced (in this case Hollywood stars) video inspiring young Americans to vote in the recently concluded USA presidential election.

The Auto Rickshaw Diaries

Indians have a love-hate relationship with the auto rickshaw. The love comes from the incredible convenience afforded by the 3-legged black-and-yellow creature. In just about any city, one can very easily hail an ‘auto’ (as it is fondly referred by most Indians) and be on your merry way to whichever part of the city you wish to go.

So where does the hate come from? It’s complicated. In several cities, it has become routine for auto drivers to demand a fixed (marked up) fare even though the city regulations expressly forbid it. This is particularly annoying to visitors or residents who are new to the city. Due to the peculiar (or, as some detractors might say ‘insidious’) curvature of the auto’s front, a skilled auto driver (believe me, they all possess this skill!) can weave in and out of the narrowest gaps in traffic. The end result is that they are a major source of traffic problems. Years ago, I used to think they were the sole cause but I now believe that SUVs like Toyota Innova and Mahindra Scorpio are bigger culprits.

My personal tryst with autos began in 1983 when we had moved to Vizag from Bokaro. On some popular routes, the Vizag autos even had a per-passenger fare in order to maximize their fare. In the 80’s, I don’t believe these autos even had meters installed but it might have changed now.

I expect this to be a living breathing post so I will be adding more anecdotes and media pertaining to autos. For starters, check out this short video of a Good Samaritan auto driver helping out another auto whose engine’s potency has been adversely affected. Sunil (our driver) tells me that this towing (really “pushing”) technique is not uncommon.

My friend Soumya (who returned to India from America 8 years ago) sent me the following picture of Vicky Baba’s auto in Bombay. Some sixth sense seems to have alerted him to the fact that someone was taking a picture of his beloved dhanno (name of Basanti’s horse in the timeless Bollywood classic Sholay). Soumya writes an interesting and witty travel blog at http://soumya.org.

Baap Ka Baap (that

Apparently Soumya and I are not alone in our fascination with the Indian auto rickshaw. Priyanka Khot from Delhi waxes eloquent on “the first love of her adult life – my hero – the Auto-Rickshaw in her blog post I Miss Auto-Rickshaws.

Stay tuned since this is merely the beginning of The Auto Rickshaw Diaries.

Diwali at Raheja Residency and Mantri Classic

Our first Diwali in India (after a gap of 16 years) was definitely memorable. One of our Bay Area friends (Smita) responded to a tweet requesting me to record some of the Diwali audio action. Fortunately, I recorded some Qik videos a few nights before Diwali. The two Diwali nights were tough because the kids got spooked with the super high decibels.

This video was shot from our balcony and has some ‘anaars’ and ‘bhoomi chakras’ in action with some low-intensity bombs – the boys were not yet spooked. The eight buildings of Raheja Residency were looking very festive with the Diwali lights.

The second and third videos were Qik’d at Mantri Classic – a smaller apartment community where our friends Rajnish and Meena live. You can hear the little one’s voice in the background – he had a great time watching the visual fireworks. The sounds (very sedate compared to Raheja Residency) didn’t bother him.

Memories of an American Life – 4 years in Chicago

I originally wanted to start a post called “Ten little things I miss about America” and then realized it should more on the lines of ‘memories that I treasure’ (true true!) rather than a life that I miss and crave (at least not yet!). Sixteen years of American life were spent in 3 cities (Houston, Chicago and San Francisco Bay Area) so this is going to become a three-part series. I’m going to allow my stream of consciousness to flow with little filtering (P often wonders whether I have ‘any’ filters) – the only exclusions would be grand tourist sights like Grand Canyon, Yellowstone National Park, Golden Gate Bridge, etc. So here I go in no particular order…

• Running along Lake Shore Drive between Diversey and Navy Pier often times at 10pm and not being the only soul on that stretch
• Dining in umpteen multi-ethnic restaurants in Lake View/Lincoln Park neighborhoods
• Riding the different L trains between Lake View, Downtown, Belmont, Park Ridge, and Evanston
• Driving north on Lake Shore Drive and continuing on Sheridan Avenue through Evanston, Wilmette, Highland Park all the way to the Wisconsin border
• Walking on Michigan Avenue (aka “The Magnificent Mile”) during festive Christmas time and in sub-zero bone-chilling wind chill conditions (ducking in and out of stores)
• Summers in Grant Park (Taste of Chicago, concerts, jazz festival, oh.. so many events)
• Listening to Fareed Haque mesmerize the audience at The Green Mill with a custom-built guitar-sitar
• Experiencing the young trumpet genius Nicholas Payton at The Jazz Showcase
• Watching Jethro Tull at Tinley Park following a loud warmup session from Emerson, Lake & Palmer
• (Dating days with P) Watching R. Carlos Nakai perform the native American flute at the Field Museum of Natural History
• Zipping around Greater Chicago on my rocket (ahem, 1985 Suzuki GS-700ES) – thanks for protecting me, oh guardian angel
• (Dating days with P) Out of the world performance by Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan – the pride of Pakistan
• (Dating days with P) First Dave Brubeck concert at the Orchestra Hall (I think)
• Riding my Suzuki from Chicago to Omaha with a gas tank cap held tight with tape. This is a blog post all by itself (maybe someday after I retire)
• Returning to Chicago and getting caught in a thunderstorm. Riding an hour in soaking rain before stopping at a motel close to Des Moines, Iowa
• Bungie jumping in Wisconsin along with Ganesh – childhood buddy who intersects three of my place circles (Bokaro Steel City, BIT Ranchi, and Chicago)
• (Dating days with P) After training for a Chicago-area Half Marathon for 3 months, woke up late on race day and missed the start (by one hour). Oh well! apparently the auspicious time hadn’t arrived for me to run marathons
• My first Starbucks coffee – in an obscure Dominicks location – next to the Park Ridge offices of SEI Information Technology
• Meeting P for the first time in a Chicago art gallery. What on earth was I doing in an art gallery?? As the wise old men say “it was meant to be”
• Watching Big Daddy Kinsey, Junior Wells, and a host of blues luminaries in Blues Etc and Blues Chicago (didn’t mind the smoke-filled ambience those days)
• Playing disc golf during lunch time with a group of like-minded fanatics at an ‘object’ course in Park Ridge
• My first winter morning in Chicago. Icicles formed on my wet hair as I vigorously scraped the ice off my 1984 Volkswagon Jetta
• Watching Jean Luc Ponty perform at Navy Pier
• (Dating days with P) Watching Ian Anderson perform, as a guest artist, at the National Flute Convention in downtown Chicago (Grant Park? I think). He had the cheek to poke fun at the flautists’ “puckered lips”
• A glorious year at Old Town School of Folk Music (on Armitage Ave). They made me feel special even though I had little talent for playing the silver flute. Thank you Judith Johnson Brown.
• Watching Ulele at their CD release party on Morse Ave (North Shore) with Michael and Marilyn and two of their friends (Deidre and Ms. X).
• My first veggie Thanksgiving at Anthony Clarke’s Arlington Heights apartment. Anthony & wife were fellow bikers (from Maryland) who took my apartment sub-lease (while I moved to my Lake View apartment).

The Coconut Seller’s Daughters

A few weeks ago we were parked opposite the Raheja Arcade – li’l A, Sunil and me in the car while P and S had gone to the bank. A was watching the perpetually interesting traffic while my attention was drawn to the various actors on the pavement. By ‘actors’, I mean the usual foot traffic that’s typical of Indian pavements.

A coconut seller (probably in his 40’s) had laid anchor on the stretch of pavement close to our car. He had a standard wooden cart laden with fresh green coconuts. He also had other sackfuls of coconuts – one of which his wife loaded on her head and headed off (presumably to sell at a wholesale rate somewhere). She didn’t return for another 15 minutes – during which time I sat transfixed watching the rest of her family. A drama began to unfold in front of me – not quite the Shakespearean kind but more the slow, poignant and inexorable kind that Satyajit Ray is famous for.

The coconut seller had his two young daughters with him – the older one was probably six and the other close to three. The older girl was dressed in a bright colored South Indian traditional outfit and the younger girl was a bit more shabbily dressed. The girls each had an orange-yellow plastic bus toy tied at one end with a piece of string. The 12′ x 8′ section of the pavement trisected by two trees was their ‘playground’. In between their playing, the kids ’snacked’ on one of the coconuts which their dad lovingly cut for them – what a doting look he had. The six year old’s facial expression was mostly inscrutable but I could detect a resigned look one usually sees on older countenances. The three year old was more playful but she was clearly missing her mother. The mother’s return was celebrated with glee.

The above sequence I observed would be repeated throughout the day for all 7 days (don’t think the family could afford taking a day off). The girls would probably take a nap (if they did) right next to their father’s cart. For my non-Indian readers, I need to mention that the concept of public toilets hasn’t really taken off in urban India. This was a grim and sobering sight. The depressing part is that there are tens of millions of such families. Want to hear something even more depressing – there are hundreds of millions in India who are worse off than the coconut seller’s family.

A few closing stats:

• India ranks 66th on the 2008 Global Hunger Index of 88 countries.
• India has 828 mil (75.6% of pop) below $2 a day. Sub-Saharan Africa is better – 72% of pop (551 mil) are below $2 a day. Source: World Bank.

(Jan 22, 2009 Update)
Hope, optimism and dreams are powerful things. This morning I read this article Born on the road, she aims for Miss India and I was uplifted – ever so slightly.

Congratulations President-Elect Barack Hussein Obama

What better way to celebrate Obama’s victory? Not just for America, but for the world! Thanks to my friend Fred Johnson for posting this on his Photography by Frederick Van blog.