Thank you for the music MJ…
I still can’t believe MJ is no longer with us in this world. As I listened to all my old time favorites of the genius, nostalgic memories of my childhood came to me. Right from Bad to Black or White to Billie Jean to Thriller to Dangerous to Remember the Time and so on and on right upto Blood on the Dance Floor, these songs are still as likeable and addictive as they used to be around the time they were released.
MJ was and is and will always be one of my favorite music & dance icons. Most of my school and college life was devoted to listening and watching his various albums. Endless hours were spent copying his music from different sources and making umpteen number of cassettes all with his songs only.
It hurts to realize that there won’t be any more wonderful music from him! The present generation will not be lucky enough to enjoy any more of his genius. Guess I need to be thankful that he was there for me during my growing up years. His lyrics and music helped me and many others during our turbulent teen years and he was always a positive role model for me.
Yes, the accusations and the black marks he accumulated in his later years were all very hurting. Though I will never know the truth in those accusations, all I can say is that I pray for his soul. May he find the peace he was always searching for.
I will always love you Michael…
Transformation
Dear Mr. L,
Greetings !!
Let me begin by saying that I admire your work and am in complete awe of you and your life experiences.
That was how I began my mail in response to an Ad in Craigslist.com for an internship with a very well renowned world traveling artist, photojournalist, director, writer & poet. This was sometime in the second half of April 2006. I had seen the exact same Ad in Craigslist sometime in May 2005 and had been so impressed by the way it was worded that I went on to check out his website. After reading an Essay on the website called “The Art of Seeing” I was so impressed that all I wanted was an opportunity to learn from this Master! Since I was still a student then I was not too sure whether I would have the time to commit and therefore I did not respond to the Ad. However I did make a note of the address and actually went there one day just to physically check out the place. I almost rang the bell at the entrance on seeing his nameplate but then decided against it as it was not professional to visit without making an appointment first. I did walk up to a phone booth round the corner near his office and called to see if he was around and whether he could see me but it was not to be. Nobody answered and I went back home.
Strangely enough I happened to see the same Ad once again almost a year later and this time I had completed my course. I was interning in 2 places already and was wondering whether I had the time or not but decided to mail him. I was called for an interview the very next day and I reached the same office promptly and this time I did not hesitate to ring the bell. On reaching the office, I found the door slightly ajar and knocked lightly. A young man opened the door and asked me to remove my footwear and sit inside. Upon entering I was amazed to see a fairly large apartment with all the walls adorned with huge blow ups of various photographs and other digital artworks. The office consisted of one hall and 2 rooms with a small kitchen and a bathroom. The hall was large and airy with a huge table and a flexible lamp hanging from the ceiling, right above the table.
In the far corner of the hall I could see him sitting in front of his computer surrounded by books and photo prints of various sizes. The first thing one noticed was his shock of unruly hair which was spotlessly white. He was wearing the typical photographer’s jacket over a white shirt and khakhi shorts. Soon enough I found myself sitting in front of him. He had a piercing gaze but I looked him straight in the eye. He had a strong voice but he spoke in a kind tone and started off by saying he was quite impressed by my mail and that it was one of the few really promising mails he received in response to his Ad. This immediately put me at ease and we spoke for quite a while touching on many topics ranging from his essay, his works, travels to my life, work and dreams. Finally he told he that he would be happy to have me as an intern and that I could decide when and how I could make it. There was no looking back after that.
I did intern there and my days with him would certainly qualify as the most creatively fulfilling & exciting phase in my career and growth as an individual. When I had to return to India after a couple of months, the only regret I had was having to end my internship at HLS but I promised myself that I would surely go back and meet the Master someday.
We still do keep in touch and he still fondly remembers my first mail!
Here is an excerpt from his essay “The Art of Seeing”:
I conclude Part III of The Art of Seeing with the optimistic and passionate belief and assurance that nothing is impossible. We who possess self-tuning minds may seek and find that which makes our short lives on this fair planet not only enjoyable, but a kaleidoscopic journey to the stars. It is within the power of everyone of us to transform the dream into a reality !!
Land of the Rising Sun – Part I
Finally we were on the plane to Tokyo. After all the speculation and confusion, it was the four of us who had made it to this stage. A senior Ph.D student, a lecturer and two of us from the 2nd yr Criminology Dept. It was August 1999 and all of us were euphoric!
It all started when the Head of our department called me one morning to his cabin and told me that Prof. D had sent him a special message. Prof. D was a good friend of our HOD and had visited our department only couple of months back as a Guest lecturer in Victimology. He was an American who taught at the Tokiwa University in Japan. We seemed to have impressed him a lot and hence this call inviting few representatives from our class to attend the 2nd Asian PG Course on Victimology & Victim Assistance, scheduled to be held in Tokiwa University from Aug 30-Sep 10 1999. Our HOD also informed me that Prof. D had offered to sponsor our stay there by organizing Home stays so we needed to arrange for our flight tickets only!
Would I be interested? Hell yeah. Even in my wildest dreams I had not imagined going to Japan and here was an opportunity I did not want to miss. It took quite some effort to get a green signal & the tickets from my dad but I managed it. How I did it is another story - will write about it another time!
As the date of departure neared, myriad emotions including anxiety plagued me but the fact that Prof. D was there to assist us kept me reassured. It was my first trip outside the country and perhaps my first trip without any family member. The four of us going for the Course were not really very close and a feeling of traveling with strangers persisted somewhere in the recesses of my mind.
So there we were, four strangers on a flight to Tokyo, with nothing more than burning excitement and blind faith. None of us knew the language or what to expect but we believed this would be a life changing experience for each one of us. Prof. D was supposed to receive us and take us to Mito. We arrived early evening in Tokyo and the Tokyo airport simply overwhelmed us with its vastness & sophistication. Later as we all sat in Prof. D’s car, the strangeness of the place and the completely new sights & sounds kept us all in a quiet & contemplative mood.
Soon Prof. D started to give us an intro on the course & the other participants, and also what to expect. He gave us tips on how to handle our hosts and a list of do’s and don’ts. This was interesting as well as unnerving in many ways.
Number one rule was that we needed to address our hosts with respect at all times (this could be achieved by adding a ’san’ to their names… for eg. Suzuki-san). We could also call them Mother (Oka san) & Father (Oto-san) if we ever reached that stage of intimacy. Another rule was that we were expected to accept any gifts they offered and before leaving, offer a return gift to them. These two rules seemed perfectly normal to us and we were prepared.
The next rule was different. Prof. D told us that if the hosts ever offered us the “first bath” we should accept it graciously. He went on to explain that this was only for special occasions and in such cases, the water would be treated with special herbs & medicines and would not be changed till everyone in the house had taken a bath! Now this was weird and I asked him if we could politely decline the offer and take a shower instead and he said that it was not advisable. I started making a mental list of all the things I needed to clear with my host family right at the start so as to avoid any confusion later on. The shower vs bath issue was first on my mind!
All the host families were members of a socio-cultural group that worked with the University to offer low cost or free accomodation to international students. They were doing this on a voluntary basis and most of them had children who had left home to pursue further education and they would offer their children’s room for students like us. When Prof. D started to give each one of us an envelope with the name of our host family on it, it suddenly hit us that we would not be together. He kept my envelope for the last and started talking to me before he handed mine to me. He told me that my host family was the Suzuki family but since their daughter would be leaving for her college only after 2 days, they were putting me up in their friend’s place till then. So I was the only one who was fortunate enough to experience staying with two families! I was not too sure whether that was a good thing or not but I had no choice in the matter so I smiled weakly as I received my “Suzuki” envelope.
It was already dark by the time we reached the University and as we drove into the sprawling campus, I felt a sense of joy coupled with anxiety welling up in me. We were heading towards the parking lot and we could see four vehicles lined up in the otherwise empty lot. As we neared, the occupants of each car came out of their vehicles and towards us. The four couples were all talking in a very animated fashion and none of us had any clue what they saying! They shook hands with Prof. D and with each of us and their broad smiles and kind faces put us at ease immediately.
When I realized that there was no way to communicate with my friends unless we exchanged numbers of these families I asked Prof. D to explain to them and we quickly noted down the numbers of each family and also who would be staying where. Soon it was time to leave and I found myself in the backseat of a luxurious car and waving out the window at my friends in each of the other vehicles. As we drove off, suddenly I felt very alone.
Music connects…
It happened on a rainy chilly winter night in New York City. I was attending a panel discussion about the culture of the Indo Caribbean communities in New York City and beyond, organized by the members of SAJA (South Asian Journalists Association). It was one of the first events I went for and this invitation had come to me from an online friend I’d known for years but whom I’d never met!
In fact, I was looking for a change from my usual routine of classes, cleaning, cooking, and commuting, more than the discussion as such. As it was a particularly dreary evening, it took quite an effort for me to get ready and leave the comfort of my apartment. Anyway I put on all the different layers of clothing hoping it would be enough to keep me warm during the evening and after rechecking my train route options and the weather forecast, I gingerly stepped out of my cosy apartment around 6.30pm.
The event was scheduled to start at 8pm and we were expected to be there by 7.45 or so. Since it was a new route I looked forward to the subway commute and was not disappointed. I had to take a train to GC station and then switch to another train to reach this place in Manhattan. The second train was new to me and it had a different feel to it altogether. This was a relatively posh locality and the difference was so obvious. The trains were better lighted, majority of the commuters were Americans and there were no beggars. I began to feel slightly out of place but given the fact that New Yorkers don’t look you in the eye if you’re a stranger, the feeling did not last long.
Soon I was walking towards the venue and I realized it was still early. I had almost 15-20mins to kill and so I walked aimlessly through the streets. Thats when it started to drizzle and I could not help but break into a wide grin. I love the rains and it always cheers me up instantly. Most people often find rains a nuisance, especially if they are outside & traveling. It is quite understandable especially when its already cold outside and everyone is covered in layers of clothing!
For me its different though. I’ve always loved the rains and often I’ve felt as though the skies were sending me a message gently reminding me that I’m cared for. Like as though a Guardian angel was watching over me. This may sound crazy but there have been several times in my life when I’ve felt pained/hurt or lonely/depressed and suddenly the rains have come rushing to my aid filling me up with good cheer & joy.
Soon it was almost 8 and I walked back to the venue and proceeded to the first floor of the building where the discussion was scheduled to take place. There were already quite a few people and I looked around curiously wondering whether my friend was among them. She was not. So I chose a chair in the 3rd row from the front and started to observe my surroundings.
The venue was a large longish hall which also seemed to be a gallery of some sort. There were a few paintings displayed on the back wall of the room and I slowly walked over to see who the artists were. It seemed to be part of a show that had just ended a day before and the artists were expected to collect their works before the coming weekend. Most of the artists seemed to be Asians and I guessed it was some kind of Art Show promoting perhaps a particular group of Asians. Some of the works were amazingly detailed and exquisitely colorful. I was lost in one such painting showing a semi naked woman in the arms of her lover when someone tapped on my shoulder.
It was my online friend. We had known each other for over 3 years in the online world but now we were actually meeting each other for the first time. Somehow there seemed to be a familiarity we shared and soon we were catching up on our lives as though we were bosom pals meeting after a long break. As the discussion was about to begin, we exchanged our contact numbers and promised to meet again before getting back to our respective seats.
The discussion was quite interesting and the topic was completely new to me. I was rather surprised to learn that the Indo-Caribbeans are the largest ethnic group in Guyana, Suriname and Trinidad and Tobago. They are the second largest group in Jamaica, Grenada, Saint Vincent and the Grenadines, Saint Lucia and other countries. There are populations in Anguilla, Antigua and Barbuda, The Bahamas, Barbados, Belize, French Guiana, Grenada, Panama, Dominican Republic, Haiti, Martinique, Netherlands Antilles and Guadeloupe. There are also small groups often called “mulatts” who are of Indian descent in Haiti.
The panel had an interesting mix of personalities ranging from the owner of RBC Radio, a historian, film director, community organizer, journalist, documentary photographer & a social entrepreneur. Each of them had interesting personal stories to share combined with a little bit of funny trivia and some facts. Later everyone was invited to sample some of their cuisine but I excused myself as it was quite late and I had a long day ahead of me.
After saying goodbye to my friend, I was walking to the subway station when suddenly I heard the light, soulful strains of a violin and I realized it was coming from the station. I hurried towards the station so as to hear more of the lovely melody emanating from there. As I entered I noticed a tall thin Chinese man on the other side of the station, leaning against a pillar and playing his violin with a casualness I could only envy!
His music was so enchanting that I missed a couple of trains just to listen to him some more. Finally when he finished his piece, I broke into loud applause even though there were only a handful of people waiting in the otherwise silent station and this created a kind of stir among the others. Slowly the others joined in and soon the near empty station began reverberating with the sound of our applause. The Chinese man smiled & humbly bowed in our general direction but he saved a slight wink for me. I grinned back in acknowledgment as I stepped into the train that had just entered the station. As the train gained momentum, I looked back at my Chinese friend one last time and waved. He waved back.
I never had a chance to go to that station after that night and never saw my Chinese friend again but his melody will always remain with me. Music had connected two strangers that night in that near empty subway station in Manhattan!
Spirituality, Silence & Smoke…
Sometimes it is in silence we learn so much about ourselves & sometimes a little more about others.
How often is it that one can share a silent moment with someone else? A silence could be uncomfortable, awkward, annoying, embarrassing or simply very spontaneous, calming & surprisingly intimate. If we really analyze our thoughts during those moments of solitude in company, what would it show? When a moment of silence is shared, what actually transpires between the two people? Is there some kind of an unconscious, subliminal exchange happening between the two souls? Does it enhance the relationship or destroy it? Why do we feel so comfortable & at ease with some strangers while we remain always uneasy around some we have known all our lives? And does familiarity really breed contempt? Go figure…
Someone told me that as long as there were people in this world, there would be wars! Also that “Wars” would include interpersonal conflicts, arguments, discrimination, abuse, suppression. I can understand where that comes from. But I don’t want to believe it. Is it better to be an optimist or a realist? I don’t know. What am I? Sometimes a realist rarely a pessimist and quite often an optimist. So I would like to believe that it is a choice. After all, defining right and wrong was a choice. Laying out rules of conduct for society was a choice. So a world without wars is also a choice, right? Will every single soul on this earth make that choice? I believe so. When? I don’t know. But I believe. I need to.
….tbc
Fish Mollie Vs. Chilly Fish
She never was a “fish” person. Though she had quit eating non vegetarian foods for almost 5yrs now, she did recall her earlier ‘chicken-centric’ style of eating. Her craving was always linked with chicken and she could eat only that for every day at a stretch, without tiring.
Her Dad however loved fish. Loves it rather! And in all those years of childhood, she must have eaten fish mostly with him or for him. And of all the different styles of fish, it was the chilly fish that she kinda liked and stuck to. She was not much into experimenting with foods anyway.
So coming back to the present vegetarian status. It was a Sunday and she was just out of a nasty bout of flu and “sick” days. Looking at her tired and haggard face, mom asked her in a whispering tone – “Why don’t I make you an omelette? Just this once?” She was too tired to protest and suddenly she remembered her short-lived liking for Chilly Fish. And given the fact that she loved to surprise others, esp. her parents, she exclaimed loudly “Not Egg Ma. Why not some Fish Mollie?”
Now why she said ‘Fish Mollie’ instead of ‘Chilly Fish’ is something we will never know. What was interesting was the fact that one was a kerala dish and the other was a chinese one. And her parents definitely preferred the former anyday. So what happened after her melodramatic statement, was a big flurry of activity which included mom & dad exchanging a list of restaurants before deciding on one where they could take her to for the best fish mollie in town! Sensing their enthusiasm and joy, she did not have the heart to tell them that 1. she was kidding and 2. if at all she wanted something it was chilly fish…
So within a matter of less than an hour, the three of them were sitting in one of the famous Kerala restaurants called ‘Kumarakom’ and ordering for the ‘Fish Mollie’. Funny thing was that by this time she was feeling squeamish and could not, for the life of her, understand how she had ended up there. Even her parents were doubtful whether the momemtum would carry this adventure through but they were valiantly optimistic. To their credit though, they did order for a veg. stew (just in case).
The meal consisted of Fish Mollie, Fish Masala, Appam, Kappa & Veg Stew. They certainly had more than they needed! But they all managed to finish it off in style. She did eat a considerable portion of both the ‘fish’ dishes and also appeared mildly satiated. All along she kept trying to find a similarity between what she was eating and what she had been dreaming of.
So finally all she knew was how Fish Mollie tasted and how different it was from Chilly Fish. She also knew she will have to satisfy her craving another time, and that too without her parents. Maybe it was their craving she was fulfilling this time!
She did however think of taking up acting as a serious career, for she thought she definitely had immense potential 
(Pls find pasted below both the fish recipes [taken randomly from the internet], just in case 
Fish Mollie
Ingredients
Fleshy fish- 500gms
Onion – 4 nos
Tomato – 3 big
Ginger – 1 inch
Garlic – 10 cloves
Green chillies – 5 nos
Tamarind – 1 lemon size
Coconut – 1
Mustard seeds – 1 tsp
Turmeric – 2 tsp
Chilli powder – 3 tbsp
Coriander powder – 4 tbsp.
Garam masala – 2 tsp
Pepper powder – 2 tsp
Coconut/vegetable oil
Curry leaves – 2 sprigs
Salt to taste
Method
Cut the fish into 1.5inch cubes. Avoid bony fish. Make a paste of 1tsp turmeric, 1 tbsp chilli powder, 1 tbsp coriander powder, 1 tsp pepper powder, salt and juice of 1 lemon or 2 tsp vinegar. Apply it to the cut fish and refrigerate for atleast an hour. This can be done a day before too. Medium fry the fish pieces and keep separately. Chop the onion and tomato into small pieces seperately. Grate the ginger and garlic. Slit the green chillies. Add the tamarind to 1/2 cup water. Extract coconut milk so that you have one cup of thick coconut milk and two cups of thin milk.Take a heavy bottom vessel with lid. Splutter the mustard seeds in 2 tbsp oil. Fry the onion till golden brown. Add the grated ginger and garlic and chillies. Add the tomato and fry till dry. Add the chilli powder, coriander powder, masala and 2tbsp water. Fry till the masala is fried(be careful not to burn it). Add the two cups of thin coconut milk and the tamarind extract and cook covered. When it starts bo! iling reduce the flame, add salt and the fried fish pieces. Stir carefully so that the fish pieces do not break. Cook covered for 5 minutes in the lowest flame. Turn off the flame. Add the thick coconut milk and stir slowly. Check the salt and spice. Add if necessary. Garnish with curry leaves. A good accompaniment for rice, chapati and bread.
(Sreedevi Pillai, http://www.123kerala.com/recipes/non_veg_11.html)
Chilli fish
Ingredients
1. 1 kg of small pieces of boneless fish
2. 200 gms Ginger cut into small pieces
3. 300 gms Garlic cut into small pieces
4. Coriander leaves
5. 1 Onion cut into long pieces
6. All purpose flour – 200 gms
7. Egg – 1
8. Bell pepper – 1 cut into small pieces
9. Agin-o-motto – a pinch
10. chilli powder, salt, black pepper to taste
11. Vinegar – 5 tablespoons
12. Green chillies – 10 cut into small pieces
Preparation:
1) Mix the all purpose flour, beaten egg, ginger garlic paste, salt, chilli powder to make a paste.
2) Add the fish to the paste and let it for 45 minutes
3) Heat some oil in a pan and deep fry the chicken.
4) Heat a little oil in a pan and fry the onions, bell pepper, ginger and garlic pieces, cut green chillies.
5)Add the vinegar
6) Add the fried fish pieces to the boiling mixture.
7) Add the agin-o-motto and coriander leaves.
(http://www.hotdishes.com/chilli_fish.htm)
A human, A leaf, A yellow carton and A plastic straw and The First Footstep of A Bus…
She looked out the window at the squirrel running from branch to branch with an urgency which she was only too familiar with in her own life. “Was the squirrel also in a mess like her?”, she wondered. As she watched, the squirrel rushed to the tip of a leaf where a huge drop of water was waiting ready to drop and gulped it down in one quick motion. Suddenly she realized that her throat was also parched. Sighing deeply, she walked to the dining room to get herself a drink. Someone had stocked the fridge with some fresh juices from the juice shop round the corner and she reached for one which said Lime Mint Cooler. As her hands reached for the dark blue plastic straw from a nearly empty pack of brightly colored straws she recalled the day she had bought them. It was an ordinary day a week ago and she was walking her dog in the park as was her routine. Most people from the neighborhood frequented this park as it was pretty big and well maintained so she was familiar with most of them but she noticed him not just because he was a stranger but also because he was sitting on one of the isolated park benches with an odd looking yellow carton next to him which he was holding with one hand in a strangely protective manner. She remembered the often repeated messages made by the city police department about precautions and safety and how people needed to report mysterious people and objects and then quickly decided she was being paranoid. As she turned away from the odd man, she noticed the small boy who sold balloons and small knick knacks around the corner and felt like seeing what he had that she could use. He greeted her with his usual sweet shy smile and she asked him if he had anything for her. He scratched his head in his childish way and then pulled out this pack of brightly colored plastic straws and offered it to her. Though she normally did not buy plastic straws she did not have the heart to refuse him and so ended up buying the straws. Funnily enough, the entire week had been busy with many guests at home and she had found the straws very useful. Now she remembered the boy and smiled. Sipping on the juice, she walked back to the window and looked at the early morning rush on the street below. She loved looking at the morning rush from the comfort of her cosy apartment. The usual view included harried parents holding on to energetic kids and navigating the busy street, street vendors setting up their stalls and catching up on the latest gossip from their neighbors, the usual crowd of school kids and office goers at the bus stop waiting impatiently for their bus. Though it was another normal day, somehow today seemed different. She was not sure why but she felt as though she was at the threshold of something. Her instincts had always guided her in her complicated life but she was not able to put her finger on what was bothering her today. Then she saw it. Turning round the corner was the bright red school bus filled with a noisy bunch of kids of all ages and her eyes fell on one small boy who had a blissful expression on his small chubby face and realized that he was standing unnoticed on the first footstep of the bus. As she watched in frozen disbelief, the boy leaned out…
How do I explain?
Today I feel better. Its been 5 days since my operation and finally the stitches are beginning to dissolve! Energy is slowly seeping back into my bones and I have only my Mom to thank for it. The past few days would have been hard for her. Already her advancing years has slowed her down a bit and then her menopausal agonies that never seem to go away and now this – her 30yr unmarried daughter who needs a lot of care and attention and more. The only prayer I can ceaselessly repeat would be thank god for mothers
So there I was resting (after another day of doing nothing!!) and watching Pulp Fiction on TV (which does not happen on my ‘normal’ working days) and it was getting to the interesting climax scene. Mom starts her evening puja preparations and decides to involve me in it – ‘atleast today’ according to her!! TODAY, of all the days…. Sigh!
She asks me why I could not (like all other normal ‘girls’) wash up and stop everything else I was doing and join her in the evening puja?! Why not, indeed? Well for starters, its not something I have ever done (unless for her sake) and I don’t believe in that ritual. Maybe its because I’m usually in office and can’t possibly stop everything else and do an evening puja. But hey, we do it in our office every Friday. Not me though! I don’t think I am religious. I can’t say I believe in religious customs, or even follow them religiously. Don’t get me wrong here. I don’t mock religion or religious traditions. I simply don’t believe in them.
So how do I explain to mom? What do I say? That I’m not like her? That I don’t believe in exactly the same set of principles and values as she does? That I believe in a “power” but prefer not to call it “God”? That I am not at all like her in many ways? That I could be different and yet we could share so much together? That it doesn’t mean I don’t respect her or love her any less? That I could give my life for her but can’t live it the way she wants me to?
How do I explain all this to her? Do I really need to explain? Will she understand? Or maybe I’m the one who hasn’t really understood her? Does she know it in her heart?
Perhaps I will know the answers someday … just not yet!
My Likes
I Like
- parallely moving vehicles
- driving along a moving train
- driving under a bridge with a train passing overhead
- amazing coincidences
- a full rainbow
- the sound of rain
- the smell of wet earth
- the sound of waves
- breeze caressing my face
- holding hands
- hugging tight
- kissing passionately
- loving with abandon
- smiling
