not without my daughter

The year was 1989. I was nine years then. Not too interested in politics and world affairs…never read newspapers and ocassionally watched news. But my working parents had set a pattern for us. No matter what we would have dinner together everyday at 9.30pm. Of course the news would be on or sometimes some Hindi or Marathi serials…sometimes my favourite The World This Week (Pranoy Roy at his best for an impressionable mind like mine)…well what caught my attention and something that has stayed with me so long was the huge uproar over the kidnapping of Rubaiya, daughter of Mufti Mohd. Syed, the then Home Minister of India.

I don’t exactly remember the details but yes i do remember that India had to release some dreaded militants in exchange of his daughter’s safe return. at that time, I felt very sad that my country had to go through this and sadder for the parent who had to be party to such a negotiation against his will (i was completely convinced of Mr. Syed’s loyalties towards his country).

Circa 2008 and we have the same Mr. Syed (albeit older and senile now) rooting for Pakistani currency to be introduced in Kashmir alongwith the Indian currency. Not only this he also wants a safe passage for those terrorists-in-the-making to POK. Wow…what next…let Kashmiris have dual citizenship, passports, let there be dual elections and which ever government wins, rules…

Why? For What ? Money, Power…am sure Mufti has all of these and much more…after all he and Farrokh Abdullah surely are making hay while the Kashmir sun shines…Has he forgotten how he pressurised us for his daughter? Has Rubaiya forgotten that she owes her life to the Indian government? Can she not make her father see reason? If he feels so much for the Kashmiris (who according to militants are more inclined towards Pakistanis), please go…stay there…we won’t stop you…it is better to let go off such people than to have them burden us…we don’t want kafirs…we don’t want to mingle with the Hurriyats and Lonis of the world…we have our own internal battles to fight…we have fought till date and will continue to do so…

So Mr. Mufti Mohd. Syed, if you can’t help us fight enemies then please don’t go out of your way to create more troubles for us at least. And an afterthought, maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to support you in your time of crisis…as they say, “you never know what’s missing till you have it and you never know what you have till its missing”…you got your daughter and now you want the country to lose its troubled child. tch tch tch…lahaul vila quwwat…

adieu

Shakespeare once said, “Parting is such sweet sorrow”. I beg to differ. Last week, my best friend got married in Meerut and will be settling in Delhi. Which means she’s no longer going to be just a phone call or hop, skip & jump away if either one of us want to reach out to each other. Strange but the 8 years we spent together suddenly seem so less. Suddenly I feel like I have wasted those 8 precious years. If only I had known that one she would leave Bombay forever, I might have tried to spend more time with her.

Strange are the ways of life and stranger the way it makes people meet. Neelam and I met (or rather bumped into each other) first at KC College where I had gone with my mother to fill up the form for the Advertising & Public Relations course. She was there with her sister. From KC, I went to XIC for the Announcing, Broadcasting, Compering & Dubbing course and lo behold! who do I encounter…none other than Ms. Nervous. My first impressions of her…shy, gawky, hesitant, a little unsure…pretty, slim, lovely kohl lined eyes, thin lips, soft hair cascading below the shoulders…she was the classic Indian beauty…and me just the opposite….and we hit it off…whoever said, “opposites attract” couldn’t have been more true.

Thus started the journey of our friendship of knowing each other better, discovering each other’s personalities, natures, fears, inhibitions, hobbies, likes, dislikes, etc…and guess what we discovered that beneath her fragile exterior lay a steely determination supported by rigourous karate training over the years and for all my hatti katti, robust looks, I was a big phattu (chicken hearted). We are different…as different as chalk n cheese, veg n non-veg, oranges and apples…she would not hesitate to take on anyone who tried to act fresh with either of us…i would hate confrontations and prefer to sneak away from unpleasant situations…in short for all our Laurel n Hardy pair, she was my bouncer.

From 2000 to 2008, we stuck to each other like Siamese Twins. We did have our share of fights and arguments too…but she was one person with whom I couldn’t stay angry for long. I was dependent on her emotionally…she’s my anchor, my sounding board…someone in front of whom I could rave and rant and yell and cry and she would calmly make me see reason. I was her window to the modern world…she needed to transform from a shy North Indian girl from Kalyan to someone who would walk the talk. We started our careers with PR but she was always focussed on TV. She switched to Aaj Tak and spent 6 long years with them. All my fights, my prejudices, break-ups…she’s seen me through everything…stood behind me like a rock….held my hand when I faltered…

And then she met Ashish (I call him my saut – competitor). Innocent phone calls soon blossomed into love – long distance. I could smell danger from far…I even tried dissuading her…but I guess it was inevitable…and now she’s gone to Delhi belly…miles away from me…where I can’t even reach her…

As we both begin our lives afresh without each other, I can only think of this poem that Shelley wrote to his friend William Wordsworth:

 

 

pakhre

 

translated from marathi it means birds…flying in the sky, soaring towards heaven. I had written it during one those phases when I could feel my soul stirring, screaming, yelling, struggling to break free…free of this cage of bones and flesh, free of any bondages, free to fly high, roam wherever…

 

 

 

homeless in my land

a very powerful and heart wrenching story by Arjun Dangle on the plight of lower caste people by the upper caste feudal lords and so-called men of god. Though the story was written in 1992, the discrimination has been prevalent since centuries. So also the case of people being turned away from their own homes.

Circa 2008 and we have the issue of Free Tibet as the current hot topic. More so highlighted due to China hosting the Beijing Olympics and insisting that the Olympic Torch pass through Tibet (which they consider as part of China). But the Tibetans refuse to accept it. And rightly so. Just because you share the same characteristics and looks does not mean you can be made part of somebody without their will. Its a country for god’s sake inhabited by living people. People who feel for their motherland just as the Chinese would. People who are ready to die for it just as we did during the colonial rule. They haven’t put themselves up for adoption nor were they under a lease like Hong Kong which later merged with China. They are proud country and will not kowtow before anyone.

Why is power so blinding that it doesn’t let us see beyond our need to achieve. Conquer, Control, Possess…such strong words that demand equally strong actions. Have we forgotten the words brethren, equality and their meaning. Do we no longer believe in the live and let live philosophy?

China should leave Tibet in peace. They truly are peace loving. One look at His Holiness the Dalai Lama and you know that they mean no harm. Grow up guys. Don’t act like spoilt kids who find pleasure in snatching other’s toys. Be content with what you have. There is hardly any similarity between the two of you. They believe in freedom…you believe in suppression. They believe in democracy…you believe in autocracy. Their Dalai Lama is respected by the whole world…your Hu Jintao was ranked as one of the worst dictators. They call their dumplings Momos…you call yours Dimsums…need I say more?