PostIndia

a matter of shame for the youth of india

2010-04-20T19:17:00.000-07:00

this sunday i read an article in the newspaper the title goes like this
"AGE NO BAR TO INDEPENDENCE: This 101-yr-old woman is an NREGS worker"

the story had been hounding me since. hats off to the lady. in the entire country there will be a very few who could make it to this age or rather across the world. and to top it all she is still working for her lively hood. this must be a matter of great pride for the lady. but isn't it shameful that the society which is letting her do it or rather creating a situation where she has to go to work for probably daily wages as a labour. what is the youth of the country doing, in this case a 60 years old is also youth in my mind. what a plight in the same country we see beggars in there twenties and thirties.

isn't there one of us who could just take pledge of taking care of her needs. isn't there anyone who could make sure she gets food and other amenities without toiling in the sun for the same. is it that expensive a deal. probably one night at a bar will cost much more than her supplies for a month.

let's think twice. let's look around, and make sure that this is a one of it's kind.
and i hope someone sitting in madurai reads this post and look around for her and say "amma tu ghar chal main khaana laya hun".

Humara Bajaj

2009-12-09T22:18:00.000-08:00

Bajaj Scooters have been synonymous will transportation in India. One of my early memories are of the Bajaj ads with a Saradarji riding the scooter with his kids. I feel extreme nostalgia after hearing the news that Bajaj motors would stop production of scooters. I remember being a pillion rider on many variants of the Bajaj scooters, Super, Chetak and what not. I never actually rode one, because before I was above legal driving scooters went out of vogue but just thinking about them brings back fond memories. Those rides with the wind in the hair and a light in my spirit.

For generations, people referred to scooters as Bajaj. At its peak they were the symbol of ultimate acquisition. People would wait 6 months to an year for a Bajaj scooter, sometimes paying twice the market price to jump the queue. More often than not, prospective In-laws would ask the bride's family for a "Bajaj" in dowry. Many a girls would have fallen to the charms of the Oh-so-handsome guy who rode the Bajaj. They provided the perfect means of transportation for an average family, 2 adults and 3 minors. Men cared more about their Bajaj scooters than they care about their shiny cars. Learning how to ride them granted boys passage into manhood, and of course the title of the random errand guy around the house.

A wait so long...

2009-12-03T16:11:00.000-08:00

Apeksha Malviya is fed at her home in Bhopal, India on November 22, 2009. A quarter century after the disaster, many of those who were exposed to the gas have given birth to physically and mentally disabled children. (AP Photo/Saurabh Das) #

8 year old Annan is carried by Nafiza Bee, coordinator of the Chingari Trust clinic on November 27, 2009 in Bhopal, India. Twenty-five years after an explosion causing a mass gas leak killed thousands, toxic material from the biggest industrial disaster in history continues to affect Bhopalis. Annan suffers from cerebral palsy and receives vital rehabilitative support and care at the Chingari Trust Clinic. (Daniel Berehulak/Getty Images) #

25 years the Bhopal gas tragedy, the victims continue to wait and suffer while the Indian Government and Dow Chemical turn an apathetic eye towards those affected. Isn't 25 years time enough to put something right that was so blatantly wrong. Doesn't Dow Chemical have enough means to clean up Bhopal? The answer is most definitely yes, but the total disregard of human life and suffering is appalling.

I wonder why haven't the local constituents pushed for sufficient relief and sanitation of the affected areas? Are all our politicians so corrupt? And if so why are the citizens of this country so blatantly overlook the miseries affecting their brothers? While growing up, the Bhopal gas tragedy was one of the most recurring themes of discussion inside class and out of it. It's been a long time since I left school and the situation has barely changed.

It's a matter of SHAME. For ALL OF US !!

a city so beautiful.

2009-11-20T10:27:00.001-08:00

around 300years back a beautiful city was born. born somewhere in the northern part of india. people from far places in europe and asia would come to see the manifestation of luxury in form of a city.

people should not confuse luxury with richness over here, there would have been much richer places in hindoostan at that point but lucknow was luxury.

luxury reflected from lucknow's architecture, lucknow's music, lucknow's cuisine, poetry, dance, air, water, lifestyle, fashion everything.

the city fell victim to it's own beauty. the warm welcoming city with its youth and energy kept attracting people of talent and skill to be a part of its own skin. the process never stopped. not yet.

one may still see the remnant of the nawabi attitude as the old man smokes his hukka in a dilapidated house which would have been a once been a mansion. just that over the years the mansion had been divided and sub-divided into smaller and much smaller housing units. outside it still reminds one of it's days of glory. inside lies reality. and the old man is far away from reality in his fantasy he still lives the life of the his forefathers.

standing on the rooftop of the house of my childhood i could see so much being stuffed under the skin of the city. so many people, so many houses, so many rickshaws, so many cars... it seems to create an ugly texture on the skin of once such a beautiful city. it seems there are lumps in the skin which are about to burst and some greyish fluid will ooze out.

i just hope one day the warts burst and all the ugly things flow away with the flowing water of the ever flowing gomti. and leaves behind the flawless luxurious lucknow. lucknow of my childhood.

Dance dance

2009-10-25T21:07:00.001-07:00

Happy Diwali

2009-10-18T22:32:00.001-07:00

"Let your light shine. Shine within you so that it can shine on someone else. Let your light shine."

The festival of lights stands for the victory of the good over the evil, but I believe it should be celebrated as a festival of sharing and compassion. Until the unfortunate of this world are helped, the world will remain shackled by the devil. This diwali and ever after lend a helping hand, and then the victory of good over evil will be complete.

Some trivia about diwali:

Bhagwan Mahavir, the Jain prophet, attained Nirvana on this day.
Kerela is probably the only Indian state where even Hindus do not celebrate Diwali.
Lord Krishna discarded his body on Diwali day.
Diwali is also celebrated in Gkyena, Thailand, Trinidad, Siam, Malaya and Singapore.
Sivakasi. a small town in Tamil Nadu, is the biggest home to the fireworks industry in India. And almost all workers in Sivakasi are below employable age.

In the seventh heaven

2009-10-07T21:37:00.001-07:00

Income disparity in India

2009-09-13T14:35:00.000-07:00

Its interesting how the income disparity in India has shown a sharp increase since 1990. Incidently that was around the same time India opened up to globalization. Another interesting observation is that the income disparity actually decreases from a period of 1960-1990 indicative of the socialistic nature of government.

Tsongo Lake

2009-09-01T22:43:00.001-07:00

Tsongo lake, is one of the most sacred lakes in Sikkim. It is fed by the melting snow during summer and stays frozen during the winter. According to local folklore, polluting the pristine lake would be catastrophic for the world at large.

Ye hai Mumbai Meri jaan!!

2009-08-28T10:18:00.000-07:00

Only local train passengers in Bombay will know how helpful commuters try to be....... Last week, a hapless victim fell prey to the over enthusiastic Bombay 's local train commuters.

Our hero, a man from Pune, wanted to go to Matunga, but as luck and Trains would have it, boarded a fast train not halting at his destination. He panicked on realizing his mistake but by then the local had started moving. On seeing his plight, a sympathetic co-passenger decided to come to his rescue.

It seemed that he had been commuting by that particular train (6:03 pm Kasara Fast) for the past 6 years and had noticed that the train always slowed down just before Matunga station and crawled at a snail's pace while passing through it. He told the man to jump out of the running train as it slowed down and that with a little bit of fleet-footedness, he would make it safely on terra firma. However, knowing the man's inexperience, he added some words of caution:

"Keep running the moment you jump or you'll fall. Just keep running." He stressed the word "running" lest the man not know the laws of motion. The train d id slow down just before Matunga station and at the prompting of His mentor, our hero jumped out of the train and started running as if all Hell had broken loose.

What he didn't realize, of course, was that he was running parallel to the train instead of running away from it. Meanwhile, the train slowed down further, so that the man was running faster than the train. In the process, he reached the door of the next compartment and the foot board commuters there pulled him in thinking he was trying to board the train!

To his agony, the train picked up speed and sped past Matunga and his new co-passengers started to congratulate him on how lucky he had been, until he told them that they had actually undone what he had done with great difficulty.

Those standing at the door of his "ex-compartment" had witnessed the whole drama and just couldn't stop laughing at the poor man's situation, while he grinned sheepishly!!!

I had such a good laugh, cause I kept imagining this guy running.

Source: Mumbaikar.com

2009-02-11T22:16:00.000-08:00

I am frankly shocked to hear about this. Don't these people have a better way of fighting back?

Taliban in India

2009-02-05T15:32:00.000-08:00

Every citizen in India enjoys the right to chose his way of life. This is one of the fundamental rights provided by the Constitution of India. Any person or group of persons that goes against this right and tries to enforce "morality" of any kind is performing an act thats illegal by the law of India. What puzzles me is then how can some ministers in Bangalore can get away with dictating how people staying in that state should behave and conduct their lives. What's even more disturbing that the Supreme Court does nothing to prevent such a gross violation of the individual liberty that is granted in a democracy.
Why are people not thronging the streets and holding protests against this Talibanization of India? We have time to oppose the racial slur on Shilpa Shetty but are indifferent to events that would almost surely lead to the vaporization of personal choice and freedom. I hope the citizens of this country act before our lives are determined by Taliban style terrorist clad in saffron.

Republic Day

2009-01-25T12:34:00.000-08:00

Everywhere I look in India, I see apathy in the youngsters about their country. I guess this needs to change soon if India has to become a major power in the world. Something that almost everyone knew when we were growing up as kids was the preamble to the Constitution. Today, I don't think children know what the preamble is or why is Republic day even celebrated.

WE, THE PEOPLE OF INDIA, having solemnly resolved to constitute India into a SOVEREIGN SOCIALIST SECULAR DEMOCRATIC REPUBLIC and to secure to all its citizens:

JUSTICE, social, economic and political;
LIBERTY of thought, expression, belief, faith and worship;
EQUALITY of status and of opportunity;
and to promote among them all
FRATERNITY assuring the dignity of the individual and the unity and integrity of the Nation;

IN OUR CONSTITUENT ASSEMBLY this twenty-sixth day of November, 1949, do HEREBY ADOPT, ENACT AND GIVE TO OURSELVES THIS CONSTITUTION.

I want to get a hard copy version of the Constitution but can't find an offline/online bookstore that allows me to do that. If you have some information about this please let me know. Thanks and Jai Hind.

The state of FEAR

2009-01-21T19:36:00.000-08:00

How safe is India as a place to live in or visit? A lot of my friends and colleagues here ask me that question and I assure them that all is well. Infact a week before the Mumbai attacks happened a professor I TA for made the most striking comment. He said that he feels India is "THE" safest place to travel to in the developing world. I still agree that India is probably safe for foreign tourists, the worst that can happen to you if you are not stupid is that you will get robbed. But whats the state of the people who live in Mumbai or any other metropolitan city for that matter?

We have a defunct goverment at the helm that cannot prevent the succession of events leading upto the Mumbai events. Given that there had been 6-7 terrorist attacks within a span of 1 year, I would assume that the security forces would be beefed up and ready to go in almost any major city. I still think its very easy to target any city in India and get away without too much collateral damage.

Then there are element like Raj Thakrey who are a law onto themselves. Why is he not behind bars, I guess if the autorities were interested they have enough evidence to incriminate him.

As always there have existed people that harass normal hardworking people like the local mafiaso, people out to cheat you like "most" of the Bangalore autowallahs and sexually frustated people who will pounce upon any girl that walks a deserted street.

And more than ever there is this impeding threat of Pakistan and China flexing their millitary muscles.

It appears from here that the terrorist/fundamentalists/Raj Thakrey/sexual perverts are free to do whatever takes their fancy and the people who should maintain and uphold the law are busy twidling their thumb and giving lame excuses on the national television.

In the last few days somethings have emerged clearly. The acute lack of strategic leadership and the abscence of a consitent foreign policy. As a high level the Indian government needs to work on these two aspects.

Meanwhile how do people in India feel about these state of affairs? Are they willing to go out and live their lives normally? A friend of mine told me that a lot of New Year parties were cancelled in Mumbai, so definitely people do not feel as safe. And though the spirit of Mumbai as it is called admirable, why arn't the people of Mumbai taking action against the nincompoop government of the city? How do people feel in cities like Jaipur, Jamshepur and Jabalpur? Has the last one year changed their lives or has it changed only in the minds of a distant observer? Are people are at least more cautious and aware of their surrounding or is has the chalta hai attitude made them so indifferent that they are not even worried about their own lives? Why are people suing Slumdog Millionaire when they have bigger things to be worried about?

Brotherhood

2009-01-07T22:30:00.001-08:00

Let this new year start with a message of peace and brotherhood. A vow of protection for the innocent and a commitment to root out evil from this world. May the world be a safe place to live in once again.

Amen.

Chat with the man behind Story of India

2009-01-06T10:28:00.000-08:00

I received a mail from Amy Baroch, the senior project manager for PBS working on a series called Engage and she pointed out an interesting set they are doing with Michael Wood: http://www.pbs.org/engage/blog/five-good-questions-michael-wood

I am writing to let you know that PBS Engage is featuring Story of India documentary filmmaker, Michael Wood, as part of the ongoing PBS Engage series called “Five Good Questions.”

The series features a PBS celebrity or insider and asks visitors to send in questions to be answered the following week. The blog series has been very successful and we are thrilled to have Michael Wood as our feature this week.

This is a chance for visitors to ask him about his 20+ years as a historian, traveler, author, and broadcaster as well as his latest project, Story of India which begins airing tonight on PBS.

I apologize for the tardiness in posting at this website, but you'll seem more activity soon. Keep sending in your articles and stories.

Have a very happy new year :-)

Folk Singers of Rajasthan

2008-05-04T10:55:00.000-07:00

India @ Night

2008-04-25T20:11:00.000-07:00

A satellite image of India at night

A few days back I came across this recent aerial photograph depicting the night time imagery over India. This picture tells so many tales and you look deeper it shows more than it hides. You can see prominent blobs of lights around area where the major cities are located. Mumbai, Bangalore, Hyderabad, Chennai, Calcutta. Surprising the area around Delhi is heavily electrified maybe because of the complete electrification of the surrounding states like Punjab and Haryana.

But most of the country lays shrouded in darkness with no access to electricity. Most of such regions are the poorest in the country, Orissa, Bihar and of course the North East. Its impossible to imagine that the electrification of these places would come about in the recent future, especially when the metros are developing an insatiable desire for power. The solution is not building multi million dollar power plant but have these communities develop their own power using solar and wind energy. Thats the only solution that scalable in the short run.

On the longer time horizon only nuclear energy can quench the needs of this developing nation but for that we must wait.

-Vibhanshu

Hookah

2008-04-21T18:26:00.000-07:00

@ Mocha's, Chennai

Free Tibet

2008-04-18T11:55:00.001-07:00

I believe every person in this world should have a right to chose his beliefs and his religion. What irks me is not that the Chinese government is so repressive but a secular and powerful country like India is not condemning these brutalities. Whom does the Indian government want to be friends with? The same Chinese that try to infiltrate Indian borders at the first opportunity that they get?

India has long been a home to the Tibeteans in refuge and its time that the Indian government stands by these people who have become an integral part of the Indian diaspora. It would not only mean supporting a section of your society but above all a campaign for the most basic right, the right of individual freedom.

To a Free Tibet...

रंग birangi

2008-04-15T19:30:00.000-07:00

At a shoe shop somewhere in Rajasthan

A Nation of Hypocrites

2008-04-11T13:45:00.000-07:00

"We have lost a sense of individual agency in our thoughts and actions. Like children of overachieving parents, we seem overwhelmed by the legacy of great ideas in our society. It’s almost like we need to exfoliate these oppressive layers of crusted wisdom that have settled upon our consciousness, and discover our own morality for ourselves. To see the relationship between values, thoughts and actions, and agitate over the inconsistencies that we see in ourselves. To acknowledge that words like “honesty” and “caring” and “respect” are most powerful when displayed in action, not recited by rote."

A though provoking article by Ramesh Ramanathan of Mobius Strip fame. I agree with a lot of things he says, but he misses out on some of the stark instances of hypocracy. Even then its a good article. Go READ !!

Trip to Khajuraho - Part II

2008-04-06T19:13:00.000-07:00

...continuation of Sudip's travelog

We reached Orchaa and dumped our bags. As the evening was descending we started a short walk towards the Tikamgarh forest across the river Betwa next to our lodge.

The water level was extremely low and we could see the river bed at places. While crossing the bridge one can see a mirror reflection of the cenotaphs near the river. Luckily the flow was very static and Betwa served as a perfect mirror for the beautiful cenotaphs to flaunt themselves. For couple of moments we stood in awe and admired the temples. It seemed to have taken us back a couple of centuries a the least. People were wearing dhoti and kurta’s, cycle still being their main mode of transport. Certainly my father had a very similar childhood, but for me it was something out of a 50’s movie. As we walked back the naked bridge (it didn’t have any kind of railings or anything) we could see the setting sun giving an orange glow to the medieval architecture. We paid a short visit to the Ram Raja Mandir, walked around the temple complex buzzing with life. The locals worship Rama as their King and not just a mythical God. We had a hot glass of milk in the nearby market and tried to wear of our tiredness. The market was a nice mix of a small village market and as well as a tourist attraction. One can easily find restaurants selling Korean, Lebanese, Chinese and Italian food. In the same complex you can get the halwai i.e. the original Indian sweetshop selling some of the best peddas and laddus, the peddas in orchha are far better than the over hyped Mathura ka pedda.

Its was around 8 in the evening by now, we thought of going back to the temple and have a look at the Aarti. All we could see was a crowd gathered in the mandir courtyard and shouting-God knows what! Hope God does know what they were shouting. There was no point wasting in the temple. We pushed of to take another walk and back to our hotel. Time to start a drinking session and contemplating the state of Indian villages and small towns. As expected the conversation drifted towards the plight of value system in todays society. By now we were a couple of drinks down and wondering what these bunch of villagers doing on our hotel terrace sitting on the ground in one corner all equipped with harmonium, ektara and another couple of basic musical instruments. In a while we realized they were here to perform some folksongs for the hotel guest in the open air restaurant. We got the privilege to be their sole audience for a while, and get a closer look at their music and dance. We came to know that they are the “Bards of Bundelkhand” and that’s the way history had been kept alive, a word of mouth phenomenon from guru to shishya. It was an interesting evening as they sung in the local dialect, one of the guys kept translating things into hindi from time to time. At least that gave us enough dope to talk about.

We realized that the town had gone to sleep a long time back and it was time we retire too.

Trip to Khajuraho - Part I

2008-03-27T13:22:00.000-07:00

This is the first part of a of travelogue to Khajuraho by Sudip.

6 o'clock, Friday the 22nd of December 2007.

The trip to Khajuraho was chalked out in a span of half an hour as most plans are. We started driving towards NH-2 and soon left the noise and dust of Delhi far behind us. It took us a few hours to reach Agra. Leaving it in a jiffy as we headed for Gwalior that was about 130 kms away. The sun was now high up in the sky waking up the world from the misty stupor. Near dholpur we got stuck as an entire little village had gathered on the highway to performing the namaaz as it was the Eid-ul-Zuha. We spent almost an hour relaxing in the winter sun as it was a bit warmer than Delhi and a lot more pleasant. After the long hiatus we resumed our journey towards Gwalior on NH-3. The roads were excellent and hardly any traffic which is a rarely on most roads. No constructions on the sides of the road, no traffic signals, no jams - just the road to be cruised on. As we drove on farms growing mustards stretched out all the way to the horizon. The terrain started changing as we got closer to Gwalior. It was no more flat but small hills started to materialize. There was a small railway track by the side of the road, maybe it was the personal railways of the King of Gwalior at some point of time. As we had no plans of entering Gwalior, we preferred to take the by-pass. Jhansi was another 90 kms drive. The roads were narrowing down, so was the traffic becoming sparse. It was more than an hour past noon, hunger pangs had started interfering with the pleasure of driving. We knew about an MP Tourism's tourist motel in Datiya and we looked no further. We stopped there almost for an hour and feasted on the excellent lunch of dal-roti. Datiya fort provided a wonderful and royal backdrop while we savored our amazingly delicious feast.

As time was running past paid just a short visit to the Pitambari temple in Datiya, grabbed some laddu from the shop outside the mandir and back on the road to Orchha via Jhansi.

From a distance one could see Orchha approaching as the spires of the temple are way too tall for anything else to hide them. I never saw a place like this, straight out of some book which I must have read as a child. As Sambit stated "The temples of Orchha are straight out of the Amar Chitra Katha".

Gantantra Diwas

2008-01-25T23:43:00.001-08:00

जन गण मन अधिनायक जय हे
भारत भाग्य विधाता
पंजाब सिन्ध गुजरात मराठा
द्राविड़ उत्कल बंग
विन्ध्य हिमाचल यमुना गंगा
उच्छल जलधि तरंग
तव शुभ नामे जागे
तव शुभ आशिष मागे
गाहे तव जय गाथा
जन गण मंगल दायक जय हे
भारत भाग्य विधाता
जय हे जय हे जय हे
जय जय जय जय हे

जय हिंद

The Story of India

2008-01-20T15:53:00.000-08:00

I came across an amazing series by the BBC Reporter Michael Wood. He starts he story from the backwaters of Kerala and traces the origin of the natives to Africa. Story then moves on to the Indus valley civilization. The presentation is brilliant but it leaves huge gaps, as the story of India is not very coherent in itself. There exists gaps in the story eroded by time.

The IVC has always fascinated me and I would like to visit that place sometime during my lifetime. A fact not made easy by a divided nation and me being on the other side of the fence.

Time and again he kept coming back to Patliputra (Patna) during his second episode on the Iron age. Even though the mighty Gupta empire ruled the Indian subcontinent from Kandhar to South India from this seat of power, its prominence has faded over time. Now a synonym for lawlessness it difficult to imagine how the greatest king India ever had ruled from here. Most Indians remember the king but have forgotten the kingdom. This was the capital of Ashoka, The Great.

Its strange to see how a culture that is so advanced considered uncivilized by the western world. What the Indian civilization achieved thousands of years ago is still not matched in the modern world. Ashoka gave the world's first guidelines for governance and peace based on the fact that all men are created equal. "All men are my son." Sadly all this order lies buried in the chaos and cacophony that contemporary India has come out to be.

Some day this order will re-emerge and see the light of the day. Hopefully that day will be soon.

Mum-Bhai

2007-12-08T22:39:00.001-08:00

‘What we have are dreams of going back; making enough money to live in comfort. This is a city of dreams; every slum, every pavement is made softer by them. How else would we survive?’

Update: A comment thats goes well with the post.

Mumbai sends out a bigger message...it shows a larger picture..it shows how rich diamond merchants mingle with daily wage workers in the same cramped local trains...it highlights the secular character of our country...there are no caste bars, there are no racial bars....no religious bars..its perfect harmony...
just one wish...wish that those at the helm of affairs were a paer of this symphony that bombay is...that india is...

-Kinshuk, Mumbai

Yellow

2007-12-04T15:36:00.000-08:00

Bags

2007-12-03T16:54:00.001-08:00

Jholas, at some random market somewhere.

The Sun God

2007-11-28T15:58:00.000-08:00

Ladies praying during chatt.

One of the oldest festivals of India. A prayer to the sun god, reminiscent of the pagan origins of our culture.

The festivities...

2007-11-17T15:51:00.000-08:00

I miss home, especially around this time of the year.

Having grown up very close to the Bengali culture, Durga puja was an important part of my life when I was in Jamshedpur. Preparations would start well in advance, young boys went around collecting money to build the pandals and the competition would start to build the best in the town. Some would try to build Victorial Mermorial while others tried to be more modern and put up a space shuttle. While we would slog for our midterms the city would be getting dressed in pretty colors. One could even smell the festivities in the air. All these poor kids going to school would itch for their exams to get over so that they could have some fun. Statues of Goddess Durga would come up even in the most obscure part of the city and loudspeakers

DP, as it is lovingly called in Jamshedpur, would bring with it carnivals, food and of course lots of gaiety. People would shop and shop and shop till they became tired with walking around and tugging along that load of baggage. Relatives would start pouring in . Exams would get over and then kids would go crazy.

We would leave our house early in the morning and not come back till very late. Or sometimes not come back at all. The days were spent going around the various pandals that had been put up, appreciating the hard work, critiquing the craftsmanship and sometimes just trying to pull really crappy jokes at . One confession though, our adventures or misadventures were not driven totally by spiritual intent. The two thing that topped our agenda was the prashad that you got at the pandals and of course drooling at all the pretty girls. The order might change for different guys but this was pretty much the objective of our escapades. We were holy and religious and good fearing, but heck, you don't need to go to a pandal to pray. You can as well do that at home :-) Just to be safe, MOSTLY !! (Oh God, Please forgive me for I have sinned)

All the revelry would give way to bijoya and subsequently diwali. The night would start becoming colder and the air crispier. And then it would be time for Chatt. Chatt happens to be my favorite of these festivals. (I'll write about chat sometime soon(in grad student years)). This festival that pays homage to the Sun god marks the end of the season. Then winter started creeping in. Spreading its foggy arms all around, engulfing everything that came its way....

Quote

2007-08-31T14:44:00.001-07:00

"So far as I am able to judge, nothing has been left undone, either by man or nature, to make India the most extraordinary country that the sun visits on his rounds. Nothing seems to have been forgotten, nothing overlooked.”

-Mark Twain

Jashn-e-Azadi

2007-08-27T15:18:00.000-07:00

"It’s 15th August, India’s Independence day, and the Indian flag ritually goes up at Lal Chowk in the heart of Srinagar, Kashmir. The normally bustling square is eerily empty– a handful of soldiers on parade, some more guarding them, and except for the attendant media crews, no Kashmiris."

A documentry by film-maker Sanjay Kak that explores the search for freedom in the Kashmir valley. Repotedly this work has received severe resistance in India and several screenings have been forcefully stopped by the police. They have a special screening at the Cinema School at UPenn. I think I'll go and check out the movie and try to interact with Sanjay if its possible.

Meet the authors

2007-08-11T13:54:00.000-07:00

The book continues to be a collective effort and we thank all our contributors for their valuable suggestions and inputs. We sincerely look forward to your emails and letters, even when they don't arrive :-) And here is an attempt at some shameless self publicity.

अंकीता पाण्डेय

Ankita is the effervescent coauthor and the face of the book. She is the one who originally came up with the idea of this book. "Adventurous Ankita" as she calls herself is ever ready to pack her bags n hop along for a trip to almost anywhere. Her nutritional requirements are minuscule and are met by few cups of chai, which is quite convenient for her travel itinerary. She plans to join politics in the near future. Sometimes she might be seen chitchatting/giggling with kids at major traffic intersections. When not on the road, she work for Infosys, an Indian IT Major.

विभांशु अभीषेक

The illusive photographer and dilettante writer loves to shoot people and their surroundings, much to the chagrin of friends travelling with him. He also likes to sample local cuisines which sometimes turn into a gastronomical disaster. Occasionally he does weird stuff, like driving trains and watching foreign movies without subtitles. After realizing that clicking photographs wouldn't earn him enough money he went back to school. Now a PhD student at the Wharton School, he neither has money nor the time to click photographs :'-( But he hopes to complete the book soon.

Hoping to hear from you soon...

Innundated

2007-08-10T18:00:00.000-07:00

Every year rains play a havoc with the eastern part of India, and year after year there is no respite from the rain. Just the incompetent officials and their lame excuses.

Kashi

2007-08-10T00:43:00.000-07:00

"Benaras is older than history, older than tradition, older even than legend and looks twice as old as all of them put together".

Mark Twain

The book starts in Benaras, the city whose origin seems to be lost in time. Benaras has always existed as an indispensable part of the India story. Its a city that has always been inhabited, full of life and commerce.

Aryans first settled in the middle Ganges valley and by the second millennium BC, Varanasi became the nucleus of Aryan religion and philosophy.

Images of the Ganges, the pandas on the banks, the cacophony, colors red and saffron spring to mind all at once at the sheer mention of its name. A city with a million temple has varied layers of existance, some that date back to a time forgotten and some that represent a modern, throbbing city. Its a city of abject poverty and unbounded richness, of piety and of unmentionable sins. Its a place where people live in harmony, made evident during the recent blasts in Sankat Mochan Temple where the Mahant and the Maulvi stood hand in hand to prevent any riots. It wouldn't be wrong to say that this microcosm is by and large a good representation of contemporary India.

A more apt beginning could not be found.

This is a special request to people who have lived or visited Benaras to send in their views and pics about this place.

Aye, kya bolta tu??

2007-08-01T02:54:00.000-07:00

City Market, Bangalore.

This gentleman was kind enough to pose for me, when he saw me clicking the photograph. I simply love his expression.

Open Sesame

2007-07-31T07:15:00.000-07:00

Some of what the doorway hides. For Anki :-)

Doorway

2007-07-28T12:52:00.000-07:00

Door to King's chamber
City Palace, Udaipur

Light and Shade

2007-07-27T11:45:00.000-07:00

The sun playing hide and seek with the hills of Musoorie.

Brindaban Dharamshala

2007-07-26T21:42:00.000-07:00

Dharamshalas are found at every footfall in Haridwar and they have almost become synonymous with the city. Millions of devout Hindus flock to cleanse their sins and to gain purity at Har ki Paudi every year. These rest-houses prove the much needed shelter to pilgrims both rich and poor. Some of them even allows the travelers to stay for a week free of charge. Most of them are run by rich businessman from all over India and are extremely well maintained and clean tough austere. One place of noticeable mention is Shanti Kunj, a little outside Haridwar, which is an excellent place to relax and meditate for a few days.

Modern India- the oxymoron of our times

2007-06-10T12:43:00.000-07:00

India is alive, as much a person as any of us. She lives and breathes in every street corner, in every boardroom, in every classroom and also in every bunker on the LOC, from the icy heights in the north to the blue depths of the south. Ephemeral, elusive, she is everywhere yet nowhere, she suddenly looks at you from the window of a crowded bus. Surprises you at your most unguarded moment just when you think you have her figured.

She looks back with an enigmatic smile and completely contradicts herself. She is her people, she is every beggar at traffic signals and also every Ambani in their sea facing ivory tower, a bundle of contradictions, just one step away from complete chaos, a delicate dynamic equilibrium.

For everything I can say about this country someone could say the opposite and still both would be correct. Her beauty, her secret, her magic lies in her plurality and her toleration of opposites.

She could be a demure sari clad shy bride one instant and a vibrant coquettish bar dancer the next. She is worshipped in ancient temples in high mountains and also brutally murdered before she can even claim her first lungful of air at the friendly neighborhood abortion clinic. You may encounter her in a 6th century ancient text or find her smiling at you from a popular Tantric porn site online. She might choose to manifest herself through the nimble fingers of a Kutchi craftswoman or in the honeyed ersatz accent of the customer care executive from suburbia. She will reach into your bag and steal your wallet, or maybe lend you money if you forgot your wallet at home.

To assign her any adjectives is to betray her she has to be felt, encountered, confronted everyday under her hot fragrant skies.

Submitted by: Amrita Chang, Mumbai

Changes

2007-06-08T12:24:00.000-07:00

Hello Readers,

I hope you have been enjoying browsing through the posts @ PostIndia. It has been considerable time since I started working on the project and the support, though it has not been overwhelming, has been extremely encouraging. Lots of friends and sometimes even people I don't know personally have been contributing towards this blog. Thanks for all the help that you have extended and I look forward to more of that in the future :-)

The main reason behind this blog has been this book that I wish to write and the central idea has evolved significantly since I started. Of course its about life in contemporary India but the actual format of the book is a surprise that will be disclosed over time.

Very frankly I was not able to contribute a lot of time towards PostIndia, the excuses are numerous but I wouldn't like to delve on them. Now I shall start work in earnest towards this book and what better way than to start actually start writing the book. You SHOULD see significant changes on the blog (if not then feel free to hurl abuses at me) and the first chapter coming up before long. Hopefully I'll collect enough material to do a good job and I am EXPECTING LOTS OF HELP from you the readers to achieve this. What the chapter is about shall be made know in the next post.

Do let me know whether you like the changes. If you find me getting sluggish on the project drop me a line to wake me up from the slumber. Keep reading and keep posting to PostIndia.

Yours,
Vibhanshu

Just what the doc ordered....

2007-05-24T04:21:00.000-07:00

Make You Trip

The Plan

Each team consists of two members
Each person is allowed Rs. 1000 and a back pack.
Participants are allowed to carry extra money, but are not encouraged to use it unless they are in some deep trouble.
Remotest village in a state is a must visit.
Farther the distance of travel from starting point more the fun.

3,166,414 sq. km

500,000 villages approximately

1000 bucks per person

28 states

15 days

10 destinations

2 per team

1 race

Are You Game?

I am thinking I'll take part in this competition, not for the sake of winning but just for the travel. I guess I'll be able to collect lot of material for the book during the race. If you want to pitch in with me drop me comment with your email id/phone no and I shall get back. See you there.

-Vibhanshu

Bangalore Skyline

2007-05-16T14:56:00.000-07:00

Utility building and Mayo Hall, M.G. Road Bangalore

Utility building is one of the tallest builings in Bangalore, counting all the way upto 24 floors. The 24th floor had Topkapi. Though they called themselves a turkish resturant, I never found anything on the menu apart from Indian and bits of continental fare. Though it was a good place to visit just to have a breathtaking view of the city or to propose to your girlfriend. Last heard it was closed for renovation.

More about Bangalore in an upcoming post. I need to take my camera and head out :-)

Lost in Translation

2007-05-12T00:44:00.000-07:00

While searching for something I came across this amazing piece by Mallika Sarabhai, who also happens to be one of my favourite dancers. I wish I had written this article.

"[India is] a country caught in a time warp and a time spin--a country that lives simultaneously in the first and the twenty-first centuries; a country that is changing and changeless"

A young woman is a cleaner in a beauty parlor. This lowly job is reserved for only the "untouchables," She dreams of learning the beautician's trade and running a business herself. Over the years, as she climbs the ladder to become a beautician's helper and, later, a senior beautician, she has another idea. Why not start a home beauty business in which she could visit the homes of clients and treat them at their convenience? Today, twenty years later, with a loyal client base of forty women, she has earned enough to make the jump to India's middle class. Both of her children have finished college, and both are working.

Giri, an Adivasi woman, lives in a tiny village. The witch doctor has decreed that she has been possessed and is responsible for the death of a neighbor's cow. Giri is resigned to her fate. Tomorrow she will be hung upside down from a tree. Chilies will be rubbed into her eyes and she will be branded to warn people of her witchery.

A hundred miles away, outside the official Magistrate's court, a group of women sit under an ancient peepul tree. This is the nari adalat, the women's court. The women "judges" are illiterate but hold a moral authority that no one in the nearby villages questions. A woman wishes for a divorce because of the aggression and brutality of her drunken husband. He sits there, eyes lowered, uttering not even a whimper. After questioning husband and wife, the judges decide that a divorce is the only solution. The couple return home in a bullock cart with two of the women judges. The division of property is fair and instant. As is the divorce.

Across the wire fence, a graying man sits resignedly on the steps of the Magistrate's Court. He is a familiar sight, for he has been waiting for his case to be heard for nine years.

A young child serves in a tea stall. He should be in school but his family can't afford not to have him work. However, the tea-stall owner is kind and teaches him to read and write on an old slate. The child takes this as a temporary phase of his life. He wants to learn computers. There is a man in his village who has acquired a computer, and, whenever there is electricity, he runs computer classes. The child will go there once he has learned to read. He has heard of Bill Gates, and wants to be like him.

A young laborer toils in the fields of his master's vast property in the 113-degree-Fahrenheit heat. He thinks India is still ruled by Prime Minister Indira Gandhi, whom he assumes is the daughter of Mahatma Gandhi. He is not aware that bonded labor is illegal in his country. He was sold to his master to pay a ten-rupi debt that his father incurred, which grew to over 100,000 rupi under the usurous rates of interest charged in many parts of the country. He can't calculate what this sum means. All he knows is that this is his life and that his master can use his wife.

All of these are real happenings from a country caught in a time warp and a time spin--a country that lives simultaneously in the first and the twenty-first centuries; a country that is changing and changeless; a country in which villagers hanker after city life, and most newly urbanized people spend their days in a hovel or a slum.

India recorded one of the highest growth rates of any country at the end of the millennium. Its influential technicians and software engineers are making billions across the Western world. Multinationals are vying with each other for a piece of the pie and such generally "anti-immigration" countries as Germany are announcing special visa allocations to lure Indian engineers. At the same time, in India's rural and semi-urban areas, hundreds of girls drop out of school at puberty because the schools have no toilets. Hatred toward female children has lead to such a spate of abortions that the ratio of girls to boys is becoming significantly skewed. Despite many a fancy car and the burgeoning stock markets, most of India is at the mercy of the rain gods, and most of its people do not have regular access to drinking water or food. Whilst non-governmental and grassroots organizations accelerate progress, a frighteningly high number of politicians are criminals, and deaths by shootouts in broad daylight are too common even to raise eyebrows.

Yes, the country is in transition, but it is not a transition that affects everyone equally, nor a generally positive and beneficial one. In pre television times, many of the deprived were resigned to their fates; today, exposure of the country through satellite channels has lead to a great dissatisfaction and anger among the poor, which sometimes turns to crime, hatred, and violence. It also leads to fundamentalism, as religious groups fan the fires of bigotry by blaming all ills on certain castes or religions. On a positive note, television has allowed many who never dreamt to dream, and to achieve previously unimagined wealth and status.

Constitutional changes have also helped accelerate the pace of change. A few years ago, an amendment reserving 33% of all local elected officials' positions for women brought one million women into the political arena. Attempts are also being made to introduce similar bills for state and national politics. Otherwise disempowered or marginalized groups are stirring--with the disabled demanding a census and amenities, and the Dalits finding a strident voice.

Perhaps the one common thread that runs through the change and tumult of the last decades is the increasing availability of knowledge. Today, with television and the internet, knowledge cannot be kept away from the traditional "have-nots." Anyone can ask a question and find the means to have it answered. Respect for the teacher, and the teacher's kindness and generosity, are no longer factors in getting educated or finding information. And the realization that knowledge is available is spreading like wildfire.

The future is wide open. India has the possibility of becoming a rich and industrialized country. It also has the alternative of becoming a rich and developed country that remains spiritually and morally rich. Which path it chooses, or is forced to choose, only time will tell.

Article Taken from: Spectacular India
Photographs by: Sudip

Summer of 89

2007-05-10T02:37:00.000-07:00

The advent of the summer season marks the beginning of summer holidays in most schools. Summer vacations were a time of mangoes, ice-creams, milkshakes and also of boundless fun and frolic. These were days well spent even though the impeding danger of unfinished homework loomed close. We forgot everything in the revelry with our friends and cousins. Satya writes in with his reminiscences of those wonderful times.

These snaps are from my recent visit to my grandparents village, Choutapally in AP.

Along with my 6 cousins I used to be there for every summer vacation when I was in school. Two months of vacation used to blow past me like 2 days. We used to spend most of the time in the fields watching those sun sets, running down the green fields and around the palm trees. A canal used to run around the fields quenching the thirst of the parched land.

Lazing around in the rivulet all the day used to be our favourite pass time. The water was always cool and crystal clear. One could see the sand below. We spend endless hours splashing water at each other, soaking up to our bones in the cool water and of course being reprimand by our parent at the end of the day. But yet again, next day we were all back at our watering hole :- )

There used to be a mango tree in the backyard always laden with fruits when we arrived for our vacation. The fruits were aplenty to last us well over two months but even then we used to fight over mangoes. Somehow they seemed sweeter that way...

Guys played cricket in the shade of the trees in the backyard, while the girls used to run around with their dolls. Sometimes we hid their dolls much to their anguish. I can still see myself and my cousins running around shouting and screaming in all those pics. Lots of children were playing there just as we did a long time ago, the faces have changed and so have the names though the cycle is complete.

All of us have moved away, our lives entangled in the jobs we do but some part of us stays behind and will always remain where we spent some of the best times of our childhood. I always to be there...

Me too...
It would be great if some of you can send in entries about how you spent your summer vacation. I talked to Satya over mail and he shared some of his thoughts with me that helped me rephrase this post.

Submitted by: Satya (check out his pics, I am a big fan of them :D )

Sun. Sand. And Rhythm of the Soul

2007-05-04T12:44:00.000-07:00

Goa was supposedly our honeymoon. We realized it much after our travel booking that our honeymoon is shared by an international doctor's conference and all the hotels from 2* to 5* are booked! Got one hotel some 2 km away from Baga beach... Still thankful to the Doctor's conference else we could never have got the chance to sleep on the beach and biked at 3 am in Goa wilderness.

We had heard so much about Goa, however Rahul and I realized it soon that Goa is not just about its churches, beaches, natural beauty and night life, but it is about experiencing the lifestyle called GOA.

The Arpora night market made us feel like foreigner in own country. Most of the shops sell stuffs that you are seeing for the first time. The food served at the stalls was alien to us. We talked to an Israeli lady selling classy self-made plastic accessories who along with her family has settled in Goa because it has beaches and palm trees, and of course the security. Another one who was selling Bikinis from Finland, wish I could buy those Rs.1500 pair (the cheapest one), but didn't have the heart to do that. Yet another man, happy selling mosquito nets, as beautiful as you have seen one in Jasmine's room in Walt Disney's "Aladdin". People from far off places, settles in Goa and earning their living in their way.

That's about it.. Goa gives you this freedom to do just whatever you want to do in life. To get your body tattooed, to get yourself massaged under the sun and then go for a ride on water scooter, to go wild, to find a quite place and ruminate in thoughts, to be loud, to be rustic, to shop, to freak out, to dance on trance right on the beach till you drop dead, and open your eyes with the twilight of rising sun only to realize that what you experienced a night before was not a dream, but Goa.

It offers you peace, thrill, nature, people, life, enthusiasm, tranquility, leisure, freedom, all at the same time…. pick and choose what you need… we chose to kick start our married life in the land
without inhibitions.

Though we remotely spent the days there as a honeymoon couple should do customary, we could feel the pulse of Goa in us, and that's what made our honeymoon a cherished memory.

Submitted by: Shradha, Bangalore
Pictures by: Satya

A dash of red chillies

2007-05-03T04:13:00.000-07:00

The local kirana stores that will continue to live on forever...

Missing My Home

2007-05-01T15:52:00.000-07:00

Where the roads wide and empty
Snake around the small town
Carrying me over the hill
And pushing me down the incline.
Roads that never had an end
Where did they start?
Where did they finish?
We just moved on them
One road to go to school
The other to my friends home
Onto the one which leaked into
The cricket ground.

Some roads that made me happy
Some roads that carried my sulk
Roads that didnt have any names
But roads that were known to everyone

Walking on those roads
Shaded by gulmohar trees
I had promised one day
Oh i'll never leave...

Then in some years
The world came to me
I saw broader roads
Filled with cars and buses
Green, and yellow traffic lights.
In a new city
I found new roads
But lost the ones
Those that had my soul.

Missing my home.

Submitted by: Vineet Sharma, New Delhi

This poem aptly describes the feelings that most of us small town folks have to go through when we move to greener pastures. Good work Pintu :-)

Publicity Poster

2007-04-24T01:27:00.000-07:00

For those of you wondering what is this about, a friend of mine and I am writing a book. You can find more about it here. Put up this poster on your blog, on your office bulletin board, you college gazette and where ever it might catch people's fancy. You can get a high res version of the poster by clicking on the image or here. Any help shall be really appreciated :-) Drop me a line if you do so.

Golden Ganges

2007-04-20T06:34:00.000-07:00

Har Ki Paudi at Haridwar

Man's Best Friend

2007-03-23T03:55:00.000-07:00

Flowers Galore

2007-03-21T22:59:00.000-07:00

Cacaphony of flowers

You haven't been to Bangalore if you havent been to City Market. After spending close to 3 years in the city, I bumped into this hitherto corner (actually centre) of the city. Flowers of every possible varierty you could imagine, of every color and hue. Its a place bustling with people going about their errands. One thing that really stuck me was the water bearer, he went about giving water to everyone sitting in the shops. Some people mistook me for a reporter and tried to rough me a bit, but in the end it turned out ok. I took lots of great shots that shall get posted here overtime.

Holi

2007-03-10T05:50:00.000-08:00

A story about Holi for 5 year old kids goes as follows:

There was once a very cruel king called Hirnakashyah who had a son called Prahlad. Prahlad was very good and always prayed to the god Vishnu, which made his father very angry. The King tried very hard to make his son give up his belief in Vishnu.

So the King ordered his sister Holika to take Prahlad in her arms and for both of them to walk into the burning fire. The plan was that Prahlad would die and Holika would be saved because she was protected by the gods of flames. What the King did not know was that the gods' charm over Holika didn't work for one hour during the day. The hour chosen for lighting the fire just happened to be that very hour. When the flames leapt up, Holika died and Prahlad was saved by Vishnu.

Prahlad was so sorry for Holika that he promised to name a festival after her. So now we have the festival of Holi.

Wish you a very happy holi and a prosperous new year.

Golconda Fort

2007-03-07T04:13:00.000-08:00

Golconda Fort, Hyderabad

Empires rise and fall, all that stayes behind is haunted forts...

Cricketing Days

2007-03-01T07:57:00.002-08:00

The soothing heat of the winter sun brings back fond memories of my school days. Among the flood of thoughts , come together, a piece of willow and a tennis ball. Winter in jamshedpur is not as cold as in delhi or the other northern parts of the country, but there was always this mandatory snuggle into your best looking sweaters and jackets. The school closed down for a two-week Christmas vacation and cricket which was played only during the evenings, turned into a sport which occupied the better part of the day.

December months are a busy time for a fourteen year old cricket buff. The day starts as early as 5.30 am. Switching on the TV set , swiftly pressing the mute button, only to increase the volume just enough ,to hear the soft voice of Richie Benaud , needs the expertise of nimble finger work on the remote control. Waking up to some Mark Waugh magic, inspired constant repetitions of words like classy and beautiful shot. His back foot cover- drives made neat incisions in the packed off side field to reach the boundary. The morning dose of cricket on the television was unfailingly disturbed by the call of duty. A chance to play like a Tendulkar or bowl like a Mcgrath.

We named our small ground as MCG. It could have been Lords or Eden Gardens too , but for the fact that for all of us Melbourne cricket ground stood tallest among the cricket colosseums. The park was square in shape, more similar to Eden Park in Auckland, but still we called it the MCG. The straight boundary was as near as hundred and a score meters away from the batting crease and we used to hit sixes at will. Long before the competitive cricket world discovered twenty-twenty, we practiced our own brand of five sets of ten over matches. The mud track in the middle of the ground was our 'karmbhoomi'. The hard tennis ball generated hot pace and high bounce and we imagined ourselves playing on those sun-baked pitches in Perth. Not everyday, there was a game in the land of aussies, sometimes when it got dark and gloomy the cricket scene shifted to England. Suddenly the ball started doing all sorts of things and the batting became more circumspect. The nature of the pitch would change in accordance to the places we fancied playing at.

We had just one set of wickets, so the non-strikers end was represented by a lone standing brick. The bowler's end was a constant source of manipulation and disagreements, chiefly because of its ability to attract a spate of run-outs…both real or the ones manufactured by the fielding team. Unlike other situations , a game of cricket was never intruded by light-hearted talk or friendly banter. Cricket was serious business for us. We even sledged each other with choicest adjectives. All to get as close as possible to the real thing. A perfect cover drive or the sight of the middle stump cart wheeling to the ground would make the day for us.

The cricketing encounters would end around noon time . We walked back to our homes carrying our battle-scarred swords with us. The ball had a privileged place in the pockets along with the bails. As we trudged off the pitch, we discussed and deliberated upon the play of the day. Each individual boasting of his perfect straight drive or the in swinging Yorker. The talk moved on from an analysis of Dravid's batting technique to the field setting strategies required to trap the current Indian nemesis Saeed Anwar. Finally the day would end with joy for the victorious team and hope for the vanquished ones because tomorrow would bring a new chance. A chance to avenge yesterday's bitter defeat.

Submitted by: Vineet Sharms aka Pintu, reporting from New Delhi
Image from: Vivek's Blog

A land far away...

2007-02-17T00:05:00.000-08:00

Some pics from my recent trip to Jaipur and Udaipur. I went on a long journey, Delhi, Jaipur, Udaipur and then landed in Haridwar. More about the journey later. Enjoy the pictures.

City Palace, Udaipur

Mehandi ro rang choka

Birds at Aamer Fort

Jantar Mantar, Jaipur

Resting @ City Palace, Udaipur

Jaigadh Fort

Sandels, Udaipur

Paudi, Aamer Fort

Singers at Chokhi Dhani, Udaipur

My trysts with the autowallahs

2007-02-01T01:52:00.000-08:00

"Hi, I am Manju. I have been autodriver for more than 10 years now. Before coming to Bangalore I used to live in Belgaum. That was a long time back, I was in love with a girl called Kanti and her father married her off to some guy for money. I couldn't bear to live in the same place so I moved to Bangalore. "

"Sab log acche hotein hain. Sometimes people are rude, they think all autowallah are bad, but hamara bhi dharm eeman hota hai sahab. I know lots of auto drivers in Bangalore are terrible, they have rigged meters and are discorteous to their passangers. But they are not the only ones to be blamed. The entire system is flawed, you need to pay bribes to get your permit, and then every month the cops come after you looking for money. We hardly make any money after all this and its very difficult to survive. But if you think some autodriver is harassing you, you should definitely inform the police."

"Nahi sahab, I have given up the thought of marriage. I am happy all by myself . " [grins]

"Definitely, I'll take you home next time we meet. This is my number, give me a call when you need my services."

"Thank you, Sir"

I met Manju when I was coming back from the Canon service centre in Malleshwaram. Since I happened to have the camera with me I clicked a couple of snaps of his. During the tet-a-tet I realised that there was a very warm and gentle person behind the austere countenance. We broke into an easy conversation and discussed a couple of things.

Normally I am really weary of Bangalore autos, most of times they are out to rip you off, charging unreasonable amounts even for short trips. All the bickering takes its toll on me so I tend to keep away from them until its imperetive. Though, once in a while you come across someone like Manju who repose your faith in this tribe.

One might say that these guys represent the city in more ways than one. The autos in Delhi are the oh-so-sweet talkers but they more often than not would take you for a ride. On the other hand, the ones in places like Mumbai are really professional and honest. Autodrivers in Pune are in the same league as those in Bangalore though they tend to be a lot more courteous. By far I have found Hyderabad to have the best autodrivers, they are friendly and extremely honest. The city rubs on to them and through them it rubs back onto their passangers. The cycle of life continues...

Not to forget the StudBoy autowallahs, with all the dhinchak (flashy) lights and gelled and styled hair. More often than not they would be leering at their female passangers and passing comments on girls walking on the pavement. Luckily Bangalore dosen't have a lot of them.

And how could I mention the Vikrams of Kanpur. These huge autos, or rather tempos were our only link to the city apart from the occassional insti buses. You would have to wait for hours for them to fill up and then after you reach your destination your body would be in a state of shock from all the vibrations and the pollution. It seemed as if you just went through 9G. Though all of students of IITK have been fascinated by them, they were the first and the last part of our sojourns to the city and beyond. Some of them were so encanted they came out with a book called exTEMPOre, none other than the batch of 76. Mikky Pant, Arvind and all those guys.

These autos serve an important purpose in the India of today. With scarce public transport systems they are the only means by which a multitude of india commutes. So long live to the autowallah, their autos and the blaring music on their loudspeakers.

Gantantra Diwas

2007-01-25T23:43:00.000-08:00

Back in the old days, when kids were innocent and the skies were blue. The only channel that came on television was Doordarshan and telephone calls were far and few. In those days when I went to school, Republic day was an event of celebration. I still remeber getting up really early to go to the school for the Republic day function. The tricolor was displayed prominently en route to the school. Cars, trucks, autos and of course the rare bicycles all proudly displayed the Indian flag. When the vehicles stopped at the red lights, hawkers materialized with their flags. In different shapes and sizes, more orange than saffron. Similar songs blasted on the speakers, Vande Mataram, Meri desh ki mitti and my favourite, Nanha munna rahi hoon...

Standing in the queue, cracking silly jokes with friends on a cool winter morning. All of us trying to catch the warmth of the slothfully rising sun. It was camaderie unlike any other, not witnessed during the entire year, not even during the sports day. Introductions were made, friendships were forged. Sometimes one would steal a glance at his latest crush.

As the chief guest and the principal arrived, the hum drum died down and a pin drop silence ensued. After the initial courtesy the national flag was hoisted followed by the salute of the student council. My favourite part of the whole proceeding was the National Anthem. The whole campus reververated with the song for the next 53 seconds. It filled you with a strange kind of energy. Made you feel invincible, that you could conquer the world. I believe its one of the most inspiring songs ever if not the most. Roobaroo from RDB comes close :-) There were some speeches, the one by our principal was always invigorating, I personally didn't care much for the rest.

I still remeber all of us rushed home to watch the Repulic Day telecast from Janpath, Delhi. All the family would be huddled in front of the television set watching the tableau from Assam or the lastest missiles that India had acquired from Russia. While we were glued to the tv screen, mom would be busy cooking up a storm in the kitchen. Somehow that was a day that saw lots of guests and more often than not an outing or a picnic. As time went by we were no longer interested in the colorful drills and parades. The mermerizing charm that the tableaus held started to fade away. Our gosthi shifted from the houses to our usual hangout places, away from the family, amidst friends. From being one of the most eventful and exhilirating day it just became a day off from school and the grind. As more time went by even the gathering of friends degenerated and all that time was spent preparing for the myriad competitions. Though whenever I reminesce, I remember myself reading an Asimov book on all these days. A wierd coincidence.

Today I took a small walk around and it was strange that I didn't see one single flag anywhere on the road. It stood deserted, no music to be heard. If I hadn't checked the calender in the morning I would not have even realised that today was our Republic Day. A cornerstone in the fight for freedom that most of us have forgotten. It is sad to know that most of the youngsters do not even know what their National Anthem is or for that matter when or what is the Republic Day. It is sad that children know more about Kyunki saas bhi kabhi bahu thi than they know about their independence struggle. But I believe, not very far away in the future, all this would change. And it would change for the better.

Jai Hind

Submitted by: Vibhanshu Abhishek, Bangalore
Images: NIC

Yeh hai mumbai nagaria...

2007-01-21T09:22:00.000-08:00

Great moments from the life of Rajesh M, aspiring actor. “After one performance, I saw Mahesh Bhatt beckoning me from the other side of the (Prithvi) café. I started walking towards him, heart pounding, and it was the longest walk of my life.” Just as Rajesh reached the director, Bhatt’s phone rang. “He started talking, put an arm around me and we walked around the café. All eyes were on me, I could see them thinking, iski to nikal pari--—this guy is made.” Then, as they reached the edge of the theatre, Bhatt got into an auto and left, still talking on his phone. Rajesh still agonises over that moment which occurred years ago. “What if that call hadn’t come right then? Would he have given me a chance in some film? Would my life have been totally different?” Welcome to the Bollywood Struggle, a sub-culture held together by handshakes, inspirational myths and liberal amounts of wishful thinking.

The Struggle may seem chaotic and random, but scratch the surface and highly developed patterns emerge. Long before Orkut was thought of, strugglers had written the code. A new recruit, depending on his lineage (NSD, Delhi, FTII) and inclination, is almost immediately inducted into specific networks and communities. There are well-defined routes to the ‘break’, signposted for your convenience. There are even conduits, channelling frustrated talents in other directions. It is possible to build a wider network, even to switch allegiance to another circle. But, as actor Vinay Pathak asserts, “You have to be part of the system.”

The ‘system’ demands that connections be honoured. Work goes to friends, or friends of friends. To struggle is to leap over the six degrees that separate you from the person in charge. “I knew someone who had a friend at an office…” is how most stories begin. The Struggle is to gain that point of access. There are always people who got there before you, a crowd straining to catch up. The Struggle is a growth industry, with every success story inspiring hundreds more to board the train. Faces change, people move up or out, but the hang out joints, the addas and the route remains the same.

The road to success is called The Struggle.

PILGRIMS ROCK

When Shah Rukh Khan first came to Mumbai, so goes the story, he stood on the rocks at Marine Drive and yelled, “One day, I will rule this city.” Devotees who pay homage to the spot feel compelled to do the same, preferably in a dramatic silhouette against the evening sky. Variations to this theme include asking “Mumbai ka don kaun?” a la Manoj Bajpai in Satya. There is only one correct answer to that.

MAHURAT SHOT

As his train pulls into Mumbai, the struggler has just two words to guide him in the teeming city- “Andheri station”. This is where most arrivals get picked up by their ‘seniors’, old hands at the game. At the Irani restaurant across the road, they get their first taste of what will be their staple diet for at least the next few months— milky tea and gyan— information, gossip, phone numbers, lots of hope. The struggle has begun.

FOOD CHAIN

Where a struggler eats is an accurate indication of his market worth. Most newbies are found at roadside Punjabi dhabas, like National Restaurant, Bandra, where Dharmendra and Shatrughan Sinha used to dig into cheap chapatis. The action has now moved to Lokhandwala’s Guru da Dhaba. Scaling the food chain is important, but revisiting the haunts of your struggling days is permitted for purely nostalgic purposes.

MUSCLE CELL

The workout is purely incidental. In gyms like Barbarian or Sykz in Bandra and Andheri, more connections than muscles are being built. “Behind every actor on the treadmill, there will be five strugglers waiting for their turn, just so they can shake his hand and say hello,” says Rishabh Sinha, actor. Also developed is the fine art of greeting a celebrity like a long-lost friend, or at least a steady acquaintance, on the very first meeting.

THE HUNTING GROUNDS

The struggle never sleeps. In a one-hour conversation, Sinha exchanges fifteen handshakes, twelve nods and at least one conversation with each table. “This is all part of the struggle,” he explains. The fiercest networking is in small teashops. With success comes Barista and other upmarket coffee shops where writers and directors meet. It may appear otherwise, but the cappuccino-sipping horde is actually hard at work, waiting to be discovered.

COMFORT ZONE

In times of loneliness or celebration, strugglers seek out the sea, usually on Versova beach. If the mood for contemplation occurs during the day, coconut water suits the script. But at night, the ‘Rock Bar’ offers better comfort from the liquor shop nearby. The resultant bonhomie regularly prompts more optimistic members of the group to strike a pose on a handy elevation and declare, “Ek din apna bhi aayega doston. Our time will come.”

THE END

In the carefully graded hierarchy of locations, an invitation to the JW Marriott, by a director or producer is cause for celebration. “A guy calling you to Andheri station can only give you hope, a meeting at Barista can yield a number to call. But the Marriott can only mean The Break,” explains Sinha. This is when the credits roll on the ‘struggling days’, and the screen reads The Happy End. Or, as they say in Bollywood, The Beginning.

Taken from: Taran Khan, DNA
http://www.dnaindia.com/report.asp?NewsID=1075457

Perched

2007-01-11T07:51:00.000-08:00

A money basking in the sun. Nandi Hills, Bangalore

A very happy new year to all of you...

Vrindavan

2006-12-17T21:44:00.000-08:00

As the day passes by..
in the cosy sarai..
potentially waiting, for a cup of chai..
I heave out .. and.. sigh.

eras have passed it seems..
leaving this place untouched..
its the same old gali
the same old nukkad...

radhe radhe..says the little boy
offering me the magical words
along with a kulhhad full of chai

breathing through the vintage halls..
this city of magic.. the city of lords
brajbhoomi.. where Gods were born

the touch of 'now' is seeping in
tones of a bhajan..emanate..
as the mobile rings..
loudspeakers blaring the new hit remix

kajrare kajrare.. tere kare naina krishna..
.. :)

here i belong..
it is here that i am from..

Submitted by: Ankita vrindavan wali, from Mumbai

Writing the River

2006-12-10T01:03:00.000-08:00

It’s six in the morning and outside my window the sun's somewhere behind the haze that hangs over the Mula-Mutha river. Three hours I slept last night, yielding dream to mosquitoes and memories, and I've been awake since two and the river's in my head now, flowing chrome in a mist of braindust.

They tell me I live in a Buddha Field since my apartment shares this neighborhood with Osho's Ashram. In a Buddha Field, they say, you can see forever. I know, in this moment, I can feel Forever.

I'm going to build a future from this moment's past, but where am I now? I think I'm lost. Not lost to myself, for I am always where I am. I think I'm lost to my yesterdays and lost to my tomorrows. In Pune, in this Buddha Field, tomorrow and yesterday are stories I must tell myself. How should I tell them and when should I begin?

This is what India does to me. I come here, each time, to lay a concrete road of actions. I chart my mindscape, I timeline my intent, I raise my pickax and I strike. No impact. My axe pulls me through the soil of my beliefs, out the bottom and off the edge. And I cannot remember why I began.

But I can hear the koyel bird in the banyan tree, and a raven at the river’s edge, and a thousand sparrows, and human voices. Voices in language that molds the medium; that holds fast the reins, slowing time to a wistful walk.

A Parsi lady asks the chowkidar (night watchman) something she needn't ask, and the chowkidar tells her something he needn't tell. But I know it's not in the asking nor in the telling. For this is their ritual at dawn as the raven takes flight, and an autorickshaw whines in the distance, and last night a mosquito buzzes my dream.

I'm awake inside myself, but I'm asleep in India 's vision. And I cannot scream.

Submitted by: Roy P, Pune
Image by: Vibhanshu A, Bangalore

And loads of thanks to Divya for all the help and encouragement *hugs*
(who will henceforth be called Diya ;) )

I am India

2006-11-27T19:06:00.001-08:00

A lovely video I found on YouTube, closer to my heart because they show the TELCO assemply plant in action, I think it was shot in Pune. Did you know TISCO has set up the biggest cold rolling plantl in the whole of Asia in Jamshedpur. For me the Tatas are synononymous with the emerging face on India ever. Maybe an emotional post about them would follow in a couple of weeks ;) Till then I leave you with the video...

A little help...

2006-11-21T08:42:00.000-08:00

... goes a long way.

PostIndia has been evolving ever since the day it started and the goals have become a little less obscure. There has been a lot of activity offline, talks and discussions with couple of folks, travels and plans for future excursions. But online response has been extremely tepid, contrary to our expectations. We would really appreciate if you could spread the message of PostIndia through word of mouth. We also look forward to your contributions towards this projects. Send in whatever you have, talk to you parent and ask them to write letters to us if they want to talk to us about anything.

To publicize this project we have come up with a PostIndia logo. Please cut and paste the following piece of code in the links section if you believe in this project and want to promote it on your site.

Hampi and Hampi Utsav - A photographic journey

2006-11-20T11:30:00.000-08:00

Hampi, the seat of the famed Vijayanagara empire was the capital of the largest empire in post-mogul India, covering several states. The empire reigned supreme under Krishnadevaraya, the Emperor. The Vijayanagara empire stretched over at least three states - Karnataka, Maharashtra, and Andhra Pradesh.

Saint Vidyaranya established the seat of Vijayanagara empire in 1336 A.D, with the help of his devotee disciples Hakka and Bukka. The empire later became famous for its support towards renovation/reconstruction of temples through out India. It also became renowned for re-establishment of Indian culture, its support for music, art and literature. With the prime purpose of caring for the people and their welfare, this empire stretched physically covering Karnataka, Andhra and Maharashtra and became a by-word for golden rule.

Although in ruins today, this capital city once boasted riches known far beyond the shores of India. The ruins of Hampi of the 14th Century lies scattered in about 26 sq. km area, amidst giant boulders and vegetation. Protected by the tempestuous river Tungabhadra in the north and rocky granite ridges on the other three sides, the ruins silently narrate the story of grandeur splendor and fabulous wealth. The splendid remains of palaces and gateways of the broken city tells a tale of men infinite talent and power of creativity together with his capacity for senseless destruction.

The destruction of Vijayanagar by marauding Moghul invaders was sudden, shocking and absolute. They reduced the city to ruins amid scenes of savage massacre and horrors beggaring description.

Held in the month of November the annual Hampi Festival is an important cultural event. Admist rocks and ruins that dates back to hundreds of years the festival is a celebration of traditional music, dance, theatre and other artistic performances. With events for visitors of all ages, attractions and entertainment includes everything from children’s puppet shows to flamboyant parades. Finishing each day with a fireworks display, this is a lively event that attracts visitors from across the region

Submitted by: Mayur Channagere, Bangalore
All images are © Mayur Channagere

An evening at Charminar

2006-11-18T22:37:00.000-08:00

Charminar, Hyderabad

Dawakhana

Colorfully lost in time

"Chudiyan le lo", Bangles at Charminar

Camaderie - Afzal, Hussain and Rehan

The Charminar is as much the signature of Hyderabad as the Taj Mahal is of Agra or the Eiffel Tower is of Paris. Often called "The Arc de triumph of the East", Mohammed Quli Qutb Shah, the founder of Hyderabad, built Charminar in 1591 at the centre of the original city layout. Legends has it that it was built as charm to ward off a deadly epidemic raging at that time.The Charminar is a square edifice with four grand arches each facing a cardinal point that opened once upon a time into four royal streets. At each corner stands an exquisitely shaped minaret, more than 55 mt. in height with a double balcony. A bulbous dome crowns each minaret with dainty petal like designs at the base. A beautiful mosque is located at the western end of the open roof and the remaining part of the roof served as a court during the Qutub Shahi times.

Deepak and me took an autorikshaw to the Charminar and I was overwhelmed by the cacaphony of colors and riot of sounds. The shops are layed out in layers around the minaret, like leaves of an onion. The outmost shops display brightly colored chunnis and salwar-kamee overlayed with intricate lace and zari work. Then followed the lane selling the bangles and itar - the persian (?) perfume. I am yet to see a more gaudy and varied collection of bangles anywhere in the world. The penultimate layer had lot and lots of jewellers putting up their wares on display. The glitter of the jewellary added a shimmering magnificance to the fading day.

The Minar itself is flanked by lots of eateries and shops selling dry fruits all the way from Afganistan. We walked into a place that was selling faluda.It looked really old with murals made out of mirrors adorning the place. We didn't quite like what we ordered, but next time you are around just walk in to have a look at the glass work. One the left hand side of the minar is a mosque that's supposed to house upto 50,000 people at a time. The guard, Muhammad was kind enough to let us in and click some photographs even though it was much past closing time.

Then we chitchatted with a really old cloth peddlar called Karim. He told us about the davakhana and some tidbits about the place and its history. He also directed us to a placed called Sadab that apparently sells the best biryani in that area. We loafed around quite a bit and finally turned up at Shadab. The kebabs there were really good, I cant say the same about the biryani. To top it off we finished with Irani Chai, really sweet and refreshing.

Then we called it a day and headed home :-)

Why I love India

2006-11-13T11:51:00.000-08:00

I love India, because in some ways I am a lot like Her.

Focused in some areas, random and wild in others. Huge on safety in some, reckless in others.
Always under construction.

Here's some of what I've learned in my three months in Pune:

Agree in principle, then go out and do whatever you want. Hope in the face of hopelessness.

India is the last refuge of absolutes, so say, "Yes, absolutely," as often as you can. "No problem," works equally well.

"Come tomorrow," is the national chant.

Don't question why this works, it just does: Freely admit to failure, then shake your head in every direction, and smile; it's your ticket to success. 'Absolutely' avoid arrogance, unless you're at a party in Bollywood.

Plan for the future, but count on coincidence to see you though.

Take comfort in being the underdog; you'll create abundance in your everyday life. Laugh when you "should" be crying, cry when others laugh. They will consider you normal.

Pay close attention to what goes on under the table, or when the lights go out. It could be a mosquito.

Never disturb a traffic policeman at a busy intersection. He's increasing his net worth, and traffic jams are not his concern.

So, guess at what's in front of you when you're nearing the intersection, then lean on your horn and step on the gas. God lives in India, and you'll come out alive.

Say the word "Basically," before every sentence. For variety, use, "Generally speaking." Use "As a matter of fact," when you don't have a clue. When you're reasonably sincere, prefix your statement with, "To tell you the truth ..". No, this does not imply that at other times, you lie.

"At the end of the day," has arrived in India (it was in decay when I left America), and "Bottom Line" is making the rounds at suave dinner parties. My personal Indian favorite is, "Don't think you're too great," but I have not heard it in ages. I'll hug the next person who says it to me, or to anyone else.

Ignore road signs – they are only suggestions.

Now here's something that took me completely by surprise – nay, by shock. A normally risk-averse and conservative Indian will hop onto a two-wheeler and streak straight for the space in front of your speeding car. He/she will not look right or left, not look at your car, nor look at you. In an act of supreme faith, the person will entrust life and limb to you. It is therefore up to you to either blow your horn or slam on your breaks or swerve into someone else.

In India, rules are made to be followed, so don't follow them. Bend them when you can; but if you're smart, you'll break them. When caught, plead ignorance. When that fails, blame someone else. Finally, pay the bribe.

Never admit fault. I don't know if this one really works, because no Indian I know has attempted the opposite. If they have, they won't admit to it.

When everything fails, fantasize. In the midst of tragedy, break into a dance. And sing.

When a gutter overflows, imagine you're in Geneva, and when the temperature sizzles over 40, slip into a windcheater that says University of Colorado. Wear shades.

Never admit to being an NRI. Discover why, at your own peril.

Board an elevator seconds before a power cut; overtake on a blind curve; break for elephants, camels and cows.

Fall in love with India, regardless of your gender. She's the friend you never had, the lover you craved, the teacher you yearned for.

And she'll never leave you.

Submitted by: Roy P, Manhattan, Pune and now Goa

Ban of the Sundari Trees - I

2006-11-10T10:31:00.000-08:00

Sundarbans: A place so remote that it exists at the fringes of one's imagination. Someplace distant and shrowed in the twilight zone of knowlege and ignorance. Welcome to a land where the distinction between land and water seems to give way. Where imagination and reality are so entwined it hard to say whether one is awake or dreaming. Welcome to the land of the Royal Bengal Tigers.

Sundarbans is one of the biggest deltas in the world where three great rivers, the Ganges, Brahmaputra and the Meghna meet the Bay of Bengal. This region silted by these rivesr is the biggest mangrove forest anywhere in the world. The name comes from the Sundari trees that grow in this strange place where the distinction between the river and the sea is as inconsistant as a line drawn in sand. This marshy region stretches across eastern parts of India and southern deltaic parts of Bangladesh down to the Bay of Bengal.

It is a complicated network of rivers, channels, creeks and estuaries that are extremely difficult to navigate. Most of it is out of human reach, its inaccessibility adding to the charm and mysticism of the place . The magnificent flora and fauna of Sundarbans not only have made this place a rich biodiversity zone but serve to save the mangrove ecosystem and the hinterlands from uncertain natural calamities. The trees are the first deterrant that quell the rising waves and changes in the wind system.

The Sundarbans is best described as a combination of wetlands and jungle, its many deltaic islands are surrounded by highly saline water and characterized by their changing forms. This is a reqion that gets flooded twice in a day, with the water rising upto a level of 10-15 feet submerging islands during the high tide. The only thing that stands testimony to the fact that there exists land beneath the vast expanse of water are the tips of some of the tallest mangrove trees. Sometimes when the water receeds it swallows a part of the land and sometimes it throws up another piece that had no existance before the tide came in. Borrowing from Amitava Gosh, its a place where there is no history as it gets flooded and erased every passing day. Most of it. A flourishing island lies beneath the vast expanse of water, a commercial centre stands in the middle of a meandering river. What remains are stories of the lands, narrated by those that have lived to tell them. The stories of Bobbibi and Dakkhin Rai. Bonbibi is the benevolant goddess who protects the villagers from the atrocities of Dakkhin Rai woh manifests himself in the typhoons, the flashfloods and of course the tigers. These tigers are well-known for the substantial number of people they kill; estimates range from twenty and eighty people per year. They are the only man-eating tigers left in the world.

In terms of biodiversity, the Sundarbans contrasts the other large mangrove forests for its extraordinarily diverse wildlife and designated as a UNESCO’s World Network of International Biosphere Reserves since 2001. Apart from being the home of the Royal Bengal Tigers it is also the natural habitat of spotted deer, crocodiles, jungle fowl, wild boar, lizards, gangatic dolphins, rhesus monkey and an innumerable variety of beautiful birds. Migratory flock of siberian ducks flying over thousands of sail boats loaded with timber, gopatta, fuel wood, honey, shell and fish further add to the serene natural beauty of the Sundarbans. The alternating cycles of fresh and saline waters support some species that do not exist in any other parts of the world.

The only way of transportation in these lands is through water. One can reach Port Canning by taking the Canning Local from Sealdah station in Kolkata. From Canning hire a boat to Gosaba. Take a rickshaw in the island of Gosaba and go to Pakhirala. Cross the river by ferry and reach Sajnekhali Forest office and Tourist lodge. This is where your journey begins.

Event: I am planning to visit the Sundarbans in the beginning of next year. If someone has been there I would be really grateful for any tips. If someone wants to hop along I would be more than welcome.

Malgudi and Swami

2006-11-07T02:34:00.000-08:00

For decades the two brothers, R.K. Lakshman and R.K. Narayan have held a sway over the Indian intellect. The story of India can never be complete without the mention of the make believe town of Malgudi and the daily strips of 'You said it'.

Malgudi has come to be an El-dorado for the people of India, it is as fictious a place as can be though it rings true with as much reality through its people and its incidents. The story of this sleepy town is one that would depict very aptly the comings and goings of most towns in the southern parts India.

In Narayan's words himself: "Malgudi was an earth-shaking discovery for me, because I had no mind for facts and things like that, which would be necessary in writing about Malgudi or any real place. I first pictured not my town but just the railway station, which was a small platform with a Banyan tree, a station master, and two trains a day, one coming and one going. On Vijayadasami I sat down and wrote the first sentence about my town: The train had just arrived in Malgudi Station. "

For those of us who were in love with the televised version of these books, the mention of Malgudi evokes the memories of Swami, his friends and their pranks on the banks of Sarayu. The ratteling red bus that ferried people to and fro from this microcosm of Indian existence. The Kalighat Lane and the Grove Street. The Lawley extenstion and of course the statue of Sir Lawley that did rounds of the town. The various shops on market street, with the printer and the hunter who killed people with just the slap of a hand. The holy procession with the elephant that meandered through Malgudi.

Many a times I have passed a station with a banyan tree and I have always wondered if I ventured out beyond the station would I land up in another Malgudi ? I can hear the laughter of Swami, Mani and Rajam and the tune of 'ta na na nana nana na' wafting in the distance.

Rush Hour

2006-10-31T11:42:00.000-08:00

Howrah Bridge, Kolkata. 10:30 PM

Howrah Junction, Kolkata. 10:45PM

Kolkata busted with life when most cities in India go to sleep. This rich compositions exhibit the dynamic nature of the scene. The smiling girl, the hawker selling bananas, the populance all exude liveliness.

Submitted by: Debasish Mohanty, Durgapur

The Ganges

2006-10-13T02:13:00.000-07:00

Back at college I had planned an escapade with my roommate Rishabh. We had coaxed a fisherman to accompany us on the boat from Kanpur to Allahabad on the Ganges. The journey would have taken 4 days and 3 nights. Have u ever been on a river in the night? Its an amazing experience. Total darkness all around, and you are surrounded by water. The land is far enough for you to swim and reach and in the darnkness it becomes almost impossible to locate the shore. It has an eerie kind of enchantment. Anyways all arrangements were made and a day before we were supposed to leave Rishabh mother found out about it, and me acting like the nice guy as I always do, talked Rish out of the plan :-(

On the banks of Ganges in Varanasi
Image taken from Ramin

Some how I have this fascinstion for the Ganges, I lived for a couple of years in Calcutta when I was a kid, then I moved on to Patna, and then finally to Kanpur. I have stayed on the banks of the Ganga for almost half of my lifetime and for some reason I tend to keep moving closer to the source. Sometime in the future I would like to settle down in Rishikesh if there is anything like settling down for me ;-) Another things I liked about the All India Trip was the fact that I would intercept Ganges at so many places. The river meanering away in the distance dotted with small fishing boats. The sun setting on the horizon, painting the entire sky with a golden hue and reaching out into the river to quench its thirst. And once it has satiated itself darnkness breaking out. The dark sky daubed with orange puffs of clouds. The chants of the temples wafting on the river and countless diyaas starting their fleeing journey on the waves of the river...

Devī Sureśvarī Bhagavatī Gange,

The beginning...

2006-10-12T09:56:00.000-07:00

PostIndia is a book we wish to write that would delve into the Indian psyche and find the common threads the runs through the diversity of this magnificent nation. It seeks to tell the story of our great nation, its bustling cities, its myriad by lanes and of the people that inhabit it. A lot has been written about India, and a lot more will be, but we wish to explore what it means for you to be part of this country and some place you call home. Tell us about the place you come from, the place you go to work and the experiences that you have along the way. In a place as diverse as ours one could not help but be daubed with colors, black and white, saffron and green, and a multitude of colors along the way.

There is an India that exists in us, a very personal India that exists only in our hearts and minds. One that no one would talk about normally. PostIndia is a project to unravel that India.

Do write back with your views, experiences, photographs and grandmother tales.
You can send in your entries to:

Email:
vibhanshu@gmail.com