Sitting in the bay, one is often made to forget where you actually are. All around, one sees shops, restaurants and people who will conveniently make it appear that you are back in India. The grocery stores, the chaat houses, the fusion restaurants, the floating languages, the constant cricket, everywhere you look there is something to remind u of India.
But this is not India. It takes a trip to India to figure that out. It takes a trip to Bombay to realize what you remember is not India, its Bombay. The smell of salt. Humidity which makes u sweat as soon as you shower. The walks by the sea. Watching the sun disappear into the vast expanse of blue.
Then there are the delicacies. The Chinese food here is simply amazing. In spite of the gazillion south Indian restaurants in the bay, one always misses Spring Dosa! Fresh lime soda, is another treat yet to be exported.
Sitting here and looking there, at the bay, one wonders, what is it that I reminisce about. Is it India, or is it the city that I came from?
Monday, May 11, 2009
Sunset and the Sea
He would always visit whenever he could. Every evening, he would steal out of the house, and make his way to her. He would walk besides her, silently. Sometimes he would listen to his music, other times it was just her crashing into the world around. He was always in awe. The moon had a crazy influence on her. Depending on the time, there would be a steady breeze as they walked, or there would be a deep calm in the air.
It's been a while since he walked next to her. Yesterday he sat and just watched. Finally, after two years he saw a complete sunset. The sun slowly reached down to her surface, and she swallowed him whole in a span of minutes.
Saturday, May 2, 2009
Disenfranchised
It is considered to be one of the biggest undertakings in the world. Seven hundred million people come together to make a decision. A decision that drives one of the greatest gatherings of humans on this planet. Five days spread across a month, resulting in a select few people chosen to rule and govern the second most populous country here on Earth.
It has been five years since the last such exercise. Five years in which a jumble of people with mixed ideologies, and different sets of promises fought together for their way of doing things. Given recent scenarios, five years, although the stipulated term, was indeed a long time.
Normally, such events pass by the average person, as he looks on with apathy at the state of affairs, and has no hope of inducing change. Normally, the choice is between a rock and a hard place. Normally, this choice just doesn't make sense. This time around, there was a drive. A desire. Something had shaken the people, and there was a determination in participating in this electoral ballet.
I too had decided to help in making this decision. This being the second time in casting the ballot, and the first one having gone smoothly, I expected no trouble at all. As usual, this country decided to surprise me. Much to my dismay, and frustration, my name had been deleted from the voter's list. More so, I was not the only one who suffered such a shock. Half the buildings in the colony where I live, suffered this same fate. Don't get me wrong. My name was present on the annexure, but, it was also graced by a mark in red, deleted. A reason could not be determined. A complaint was lodged to the overseer of the elections in the area, no less. Yet there was nothing to be done. Reading a news report later, it seems this will be rectified in time for the local elections in a few months time.
A day after this exercise, the media is afloat with shock and dismay. "The city which was angry at its treatment, sleeps when it matters", they say. "A long weekend, coupled with a heat wave, keeps city slickers away", says another. When rural India sends 60% of its population to the polls, there is no excuse that a city as educated as this one, should send only 40%. Even the celebrities were in a state of shock. They had flown back to the city to cast their ballots, and yet the common man had let them down.
If only, there were a voice stronger than the individual common man. This voice would let it be known, that an interesting play with lists of names could very well be the cause of a low turnout.
It has been five years since the last such exercise. Five years in which a jumble of people with mixed ideologies, and different sets of promises fought together for their way of doing things. Given recent scenarios, five years, although the stipulated term, was indeed a long time.
Normally, such events pass by the average person, as he looks on with apathy at the state of affairs, and has no hope of inducing change. Normally, the choice is between a rock and a hard place. Normally, this choice just doesn't make sense. This time around, there was a drive. A desire. Something had shaken the people, and there was a determination in participating in this electoral ballet.
I too had decided to help in making this decision. This being the second time in casting the ballot, and the first one having gone smoothly, I expected no trouble at all. As usual, this country decided to surprise me. Much to my dismay, and frustration, my name had been deleted from the voter's list. More so, I was not the only one who suffered such a shock. Half the buildings in the colony where I live, suffered this same fate. Don't get me wrong. My name was present on the annexure, but, it was also graced by a mark in red, deleted. A reason could not be determined. A complaint was lodged to the overseer of the elections in the area, no less. Yet there was nothing to be done. Reading a news report later, it seems this will be rectified in time for the local elections in a few months time.
A day after this exercise, the media is afloat with shock and dismay. "The city which was angry at its treatment, sleeps when it matters", they say. "A long weekend, coupled with a heat wave, keeps city slickers away", says another. When rural India sends 60% of its population to the polls, there is no excuse that a city as educated as this one, should send only 40%. Even the celebrities were in a state of shock. They had flown back to the city to cast their ballots, and yet the common man had let them down.
If only, there were a voice stronger than the individual common man. This voice would let it be known, that an interesting play with lists of names could very well be the cause of a low turnout.
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