Not that this blog was meant to be mallu-centric, but I couldn't resist this one!
http://www.indianpad.com/story/86694
Enjoy!
Friday, September 14, 2007
Monday, September 3, 2007
Jamshedpur's Century
I didn’t believe that my grandfather knew of any place further away than he could travel on his cycle. Yeah, sure, he’d told us stories of his trips to various places: countries, provinces, but they were just that – stories. Right?
So, a couple of decades ago, I didn’t expect him to know much about small town I was going to. I got ready to explain to him; “Hmmm… I’ve got my admission to XLRI”. Casual opening, like. You know. Whatever.
“XLRI?” cries the old man. “Jamshedpur? Bihar? Thugs! Rapists! Murderers! What do you want to go there for?”
Obviously, he was expecting to see the reaction that he did; he was rocking with laughter the next second. “Got you! Congratulations, of course, but remember where the institute is; Jamshedpur will be spotless, but Bihar waits just outside”. Too true. Bihar waited just metres from the gates of Tata Steel, where the smooth road of Jamshedpur crumbled into lawless rocky paths.
The simple explanation is that Bihar* is thousands of years old, but Jamshedpur is new. Just a hundred years old, now, in 2007. When I saw it for the first time, it was much younger, of course and I believe, not as well known as it is today. And I say that with conviction, because, during the first 15 years of my life, Jamshedpur came to my attention for just a couple of reasons. Keenan Stadium and Gerald Durell. It was Durell who caught my attention first: for a boy, Corfu and Jamshedpur were but a couple of pages away from each other. It must have been a great city, Jamshedpur, if a kid born there could get to find and keep such exotic wild animals!!
But then, it must have been a small city too; proof in the way Gordon Greendige and Sir Vivian Richards baptized its cute little cricket stadium with a blaze of 4s and 6s. No big city would dare have the revenge-seeking West Indies play in a stadium that seemed to be built for friendly matches between local school teams.
As I grew up, Jamshedpur grew, too. The animals went away and were replaced by images of molten steel being beaten into the shape of trucks, under the hungry eyes of wannabe managers. But when the Bokaro Steel City Express from Madras stopped at the Tatanagar Junction on a wet July day, all images were mixed up together, wild animals, towering sixers, steel rods, trucks and entrance-exam flash cards.
On the way from the station to XL, new images slotted in; a sign saying ‘Hotel Boulevard – Sunset Bar’, followed immediately by one opposite saying ‘AT Daw & Co., Gunmakers’. My grandfather’s words came rushing back. Such things! Right on the main road!! But then, all those thoughts were wiped away in the thrill of meeting new people. Those insouciant worldly-wise Bombaywallahs, the brash, loudmouthed Delhiites, the snooty Calcuttans sniffing disdain at those of lower intellect….. In the middle of all that, one thought. “Jampot has brought us together”.
In the two decades since, Jamshedpur has become much more famous. As the staging ground for the takeover of Corus. As the birthplace of Maddy and Priyanka Chopra. As the latest destination for Air Deccan. For the only ODI that India has won at the Keenan. For continuing to keep the state outside its doors. For being South Asia’s representative in the Global Compact Cities programme. At least, now, there is no reason so trivial that it cannot catch my attention.
But above all that, there’s the one thought: “Jampot has brought us together”. And that’ll stay on for ever, Jamshedpur bringing together all those guys who spent just two years living there, but left their hearts behind for ever, for all the centuries to come!
[*Yes, yes, Jamshedpur is in Jharkhand. I know. But this was a couple of decades ago, remember? Not only has Jamshedpur grown up, it has grown out!]
So, a couple of decades ago, I didn’t expect him to know much about small town I was going to. I got ready to explain to him; “Hmmm… I’ve got my admission to XLRI”. Casual opening, like. You know. Whatever.
“XLRI?” cries the old man. “Jamshedpur? Bihar? Thugs! Rapists! Murderers! What do you want to go there for?”
Obviously, he was expecting to see the reaction that he did; he was rocking with laughter the next second. “Got you! Congratulations, of course, but remember where the institute is; Jamshedpur will be spotless, but Bihar waits just outside”. Too true. Bihar waited just metres from the gates of Tata Steel, where the smooth road of Jamshedpur crumbled into lawless rocky paths.
The simple explanation is that Bihar* is thousands of years old, but Jamshedpur is new. Just a hundred years old, now, in 2007. When I saw it for the first time, it was much younger, of course and I believe, not as well known as it is today. And I say that with conviction, because, during the first 15 years of my life, Jamshedpur came to my attention for just a couple of reasons. Keenan Stadium and Gerald Durell. It was Durell who caught my attention first: for a boy, Corfu and Jamshedpur were but a couple of pages away from each other. It must have been a great city, Jamshedpur, if a kid born there could get to find and keep such exotic wild animals!!
But then, it must have been a small city too; proof in the way Gordon Greendige and Sir Vivian Richards baptized its cute little cricket stadium with a blaze of 4s and 6s. No big city would dare have the revenge-seeking West Indies play in a stadium that seemed to be built for friendly matches between local school teams.
As I grew up, Jamshedpur grew, too. The animals went away and were replaced by images of molten steel being beaten into the shape of trucks, under the hungry eyes of wannabe managers. But when the Bokaro Steel City Express from Madras stopped at the Tatanagar Junction on a wet July day, all images were mixed up together, wild animals, towering sixers, steel rods, trucks and entrance-exam flash cards.
On the way from the station to XL, new images slotted in; a sign saying ‘Hotel Boulevard – Sunset Bar’, followed immediately by one opposite saying ‘AT Daw & Co., Gunmakers’. My grandfather’s words came rushing back. Such things! Right on the main road!! But then, all those thoughts were wiped away in the thrill of meeting new people. Those insouciant worldly-wise Bombaywallahs, the brash, loudmouthed Delhiites, the snooty Calcuttans sniffing disdain at those of lower intellect….. In the middle of all that, one thought. “Jampot has brought us together”.
In the two decades since, Jamshedpur has become much more famous. As the staging ground for the takeover of Corus. As the birthplace of Maddy and Priyanka Chopra. As the latest destination for Air Deccan. For the only ODI that India has won at the Keenan. For continuing to keep the state outside its doors. For being South Asia’s representative in the Global Compact Cities programme. At least, now, there is no reason so trivial that it cannot catch my attention.
But above all that, there’s the one thought: “Jampot has brought us together”. And that’ll stay on for ever, Jamshedpur bringing together all those guys who spent just two years living there, but left their hearts behind for ever, for all the centuries to come!
[*Yes, yes, Jamshedpur is in Jharkhand. I know. But this was a couple of decades ago, remember? Not only has Jamshedpur grown up, it has grown out!]
Monday, August 27, 2007
The Dai Bus. Or, why Rowling must be a Malayali
"Edai!" - I heard the scream and felt the push and as I flew off the path, I saw a low-slung, pink contraption with bunny-ear-mirrors screeching to a halt exactly where I'd been standing. How could I have forgotten this modernised means of transport for the average Malayali? It has been a while, for sure, and now I couldn't resist.
Trying to retain stability, I hung on to the overhead handle with both hands. But my concept of stability did not account for differences in acceleration between the floor and the roof of Bunny-Ears. At start, my feet rushed ahead of the rest of me; a nice 40-degree angle between sole and crown poured out any feeling of dignity I had left. Thankfully, when the roof decided to catch up, I was somewhat ready for it and came back from about the 110-degree mark itself. Hmm, just slightly out of habit, that's all.
Yank!! 810 degrees round the middle. Or what used to be the middle, it seemed to be on multiple axes and multiple planes at the same time. Anyway, it wasn't a swerve I had experienced in any bus ride, anywhere, ever. No wonder the people of this region swing all possible ways, election-time or otherwise! I wasn't sure what was left of my right - or even where it was. And I'm the only one who is shaken up. My fellow passengers do not seem to realize they had come within 2 paint-coats thickness of being footnotes in a bus-collision report. Oooh, the driving! Wait a minute, I've seen something like this - Prisoner of Azkaban! Hold out your wand-hand, now!! But The Knight Bus, if you remember, changed its contours and Ernie had an easy time of it in his armchair, with no worries about actually pranging his vehicle.
However, this here isn't wizardry, just absolutely top-class driving skills. Skills that cannot be measured by any normal driving tests, but are unerringly spotted by every RTO in God’s Own Country; for without them, there will certainly be many more prangs than vehicles on road. Even so, getting off Bunny-Ears was a relief!
And oh, Joanne, a very Happy Onam to you, too!!
Trying to retain stability, I hung on to the overhead handle with both hands. But my concept of stability did not account for differences in acceleration between the floor and the roof of Bunny-Ears. At start, my feet rushed ahead of the rest of me; a nice 40-degree angle between sole and crown poured out any feeling of dignity I had left. Thankfully, when the roof decided to catch up, I was somewhat ready for it and came back from about the 110-degree mark itself. Hmm, just slightly out of habit, that's all.
Yank!! 810 degrees round the middle. Or what used to be the middle, it seemed to be on multiple axes and multiple planes at the same time. Anyway, it wasn't a swerve I had experienced in any bus ride, anywhere, ever. No wonder the people of this region swing all possible ways, election-time or otherwise! I wasn't sure what was left of my right - or even where it was. And I'm the only one who is shaken up. My fellow passengers do not seem to realize they had come within 2 paint-coats thickness of being footnotes in a bus-collision report. Oooh, the driving! Wait a minute, I've seen something like this - Prisoner of Azkaban! Hold out your wand-hand, now!! But The Knight Bus, if you remember, changed its contours and Ernie had an easy time of it in his armchair, with no worries about actually pranging his vehicle.
However, this here isn't wizardry, just absolutely top-class driving skills. Skills that cannot be measured by any normal driving tests, but are unerringly spotted by every RTO in God’s Own Country; for without them, there will certainly be many more prangs than vehicles on road. Even so, getting off Bunny-Ears was a relief!
And oh, Joanne, a very Happy Onam to you, too!!
Thursday, July 26, 2007
My sister, the President?
Hmmm... so it is Prathibha, after all. As Balakrishnan was swearing in, I was, like many others, swearing at.
Would have been foolish to have expected it to turn out otherwise; yet, one hoped. Now, the hope turns in another direction. I'm hoping that she doesn't take it to her head to visit a few places that she hasn't been to and demonstrate her unique conversational abilities. No, not even Africa, they won't be impressed with such tricks at all, their jujus are much more sophisticated, even technologically.
My mother, however, wants her to be well known. Her reasons are simple. If her daughter's name is popularised, then maybe they'd stop calling her Prat. But I secretly hope that if the former happens, the latter runs the other way! Prat the President!! Yay!!!
Would have been foolish to have expected it to turn out otherwise; yet, one hoped. Now, the hope turns in another direction. I'm hoping that she doesn't take it to her head to visit a few places that she hasn't been to and demonstrate her unique conversational abilities. No, not even Africa, they won't be impressed with such tricks at all, their jujus are much more sophisticated, even technologically.
My mother, however, wants her to be well known. Her reasons are simple. If her daughter's name is popularised, then maybe they'd stop calling her Prat. But I secretly hope that if the former happens, the latter runs the other way! Prat the President!! Yay!!!
Monday, June 11, 2007
The Launch
Ah, well, that wasn't too difficult, the first few words.
Having used many free sites for many things over the years, I have developed the foresight to understand that the handle you pick stays with you for a long time. With this refined understanding, I thought that I had become a better handle-picker. Unfortunately, it appears that many other people also use the internet and their foresight appears to be twenty/20 times better. So, no more handles, only names.
And then that Aussie had to happen. No, not Greg Stephen, the other Greg, the Roberts chappie. Seems to be bent on popularising my name all over the world. Having Johnny Depp assist in this certainly helps. But then my niece had to say that she doesn't like Depp, what with his kajal-lined eyes and long skirts (? - but then she watches more movies than I), so now I'm wondering if I would indeed like such associations....
So much for this ramble. Will have to get back later.
Having used many free sites for many things over the years, I have developed the foresight to understand that the handle you pick stays with you for a long time. With this refined understanding, I thought that I had become a better handle-picker. Unfortunately, it appears that many other people also use the internet and their foresight appears to be twenty/20 times better. So, no more handles, only names.
And then that Aussie had to happen. No, not Greg Stephen, the other Greg, the Roberts chappie. Seems to be bent on popularising my name all over the world. Having Johnny Depp assist in this certainly helps. But then my niece had to say that she doesn't like Depp, what with his kajal-lined eyes and long skirts (? - but then she watches more movies than I), so now I'm wondering if I would indeed like such associations....
So much for this ramble. Will have to get back later.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
