Maybe the Wall has some answers.

Monday, January 19, 2009

Meanwhile...

I was here two weeks ago. I am back now.

In between, there has been Satyam, predictions of lower inflation rates in March, extensive coverage of Delhi's efforts to spruce itself up for the Games, more Satyam, panic over internal examinations, collective relief that they seem to be on their way out, fluctuating fortunes for the IT sector, the world economy and India Inc., cricketing euphoria, some more Satyam, airfare slashes and sales that cause more gloom than cheer. All along, of course, a winter that wasn't quite the real thing.

All of which makes for a fairly interesting life. Back to the newspaper for me.

Sunday, January 18, 2009

Best left unnamed

I wonder, every now and then, if you knew all along,

I wonder if you felt the same;

if the laughter and the talking were part of something larger

or simply the culmination of a game

of hide and seek, or peekaboo,

or a tentative, hesitant enquiring

into reasons and effects, opinions and dreams...

taking apart of emotional wiring!

Sometimes I wonder if you had guessed

why things happened like they did.

If, like me, you sought silence

when you were contentedly amid

tens of faces, a multitude of voices,

looking, every minute, every hour

for something you didn't quite know how to name,

endearingly elusive, so far.

I wonder if there'll be a second time,

I wonder if it will be the same.

No.

Some things are best left untouched, untarnished;

some things are best left unnamed.

Tuesday, January 6, 2009

I'm glad!

Glad, that our Prime Minister is an economist!

Sunday, January 4, 2009

Let's talk

Never apologise for showing feeling. When you do so, you apologise for truth.

Something that put the warmth back into a freezing January morning for me -

Teeth chattering, I found myself a seat on the train to Kashmere Gate. Wandering idly from the route map to an ad for cough syrup to the pane opposite - where I tried, for the hundredth time, to look for my reflection amid a myriad of blurred images - my gaze fell upon two passengers, right across the aisle from where I sat.

One was a tall, spare man, twenty five years old, thirty maybe. Tucking a pen into his lapel, he was drawing his beige jacket tightly about himself, pride written all over the gesture. Next to him sat an elderly gentleman with a turban and white whiskers, his head resting against the glass partition. Even as I sat there watching them, an animated conversation began.

"They kept asking me to hurry," the younger man was saying, proudly, "and I still managed to dress up! Look at this jacket! Let's have tea when we get there."

The older one smiled affectionately. "Tea can wait. Finish your paper first."

"But some tea would be nice! See how cold it is!" the younger man protested.

The turbaned gentleman pointed to his watch. "There's no time!'

"I'll drive us home!" the other was visibly excited.

His companion couldn't help another fatherly grin. "No, that's OK, I'll do the driving."

"I drive fast!!"

"No, I'll take care of the driving. Think about the paper. There will be lots to write."

The train stopped at Civil Lines. A neon-lit advertisement for a recent Bollywood release all but obscured the wall facing the duo.

"Look!" the younger one pointed eagerly, "This one? Shall we go for this one?"

"Write your paper first, let me drive you home, and you can go for as many movies as you please!"

The younger guy sat there, sulking. His companion patted his shoulder. Like magic, the smile was back.

"You will come with me, then? After the paper? Can I drive after the paper?"
"We'll see."

"Tea? Please? Five minutes for tea?"

The next station is Kashmere Gate. Change here for the Red Line. Doors will open on the right. Please mind the gap.

I cast the two a grateful glance and silently wished the younger guy luck with his paper, whatever it was. Cheerfulness, affection, patience, enthusiasm, understanding - things we could all do with a little more of - are independent of words, really.

This duo, for instance, seemed to be doing just fine with sign language.

The essence

For all sad words of tongue and pen, the saddest are these, "It might have been".
- John Greenleaf Whittier

Saturday, January 3, 2009

Collage

I think of pink blossoms on a branch stripped of leaves, the first thing visible through the window with the ancient wooden frame. Of sunshine filtering in through the lattice. I think of a series of closed doors, and a cold stone floor. Of laughter that faded away too soon, of tears that refused, first, to dry, and, later, to stream. Of hopes that knew no limits, of memories that are all that remain. I think of vacant pews, beige pamphlets and flagstone paths. Of yellow Post-Its and enormous armchairs. Of bright yellow flowers growing wild amidst a profusion of weeds, of long walks - sometimes alone, usually lonely. I think of steaming mugs of coffee and endless conversation. Of trudging to the dairy, autumn leaves crunching underfoot. Of hopes renewed, dreams resurrected. Of faith, understanding and belief.

All part of one life.

Friday, January 2, 2009

Looking back

I catch myself wondering, as I have so often, if we aren't putting the cart before the horse in our quest for development. Is there a possibility that we have got the equation all wrong? In a country of over a billion people, wherein the top 2-3% still likes to call itself the "middle class", and academicians, policy makers and MNC market researchers alike comfortably calculate the population above the poverty line with the aid of a definition that compresses standard of living and quality of life into one little figure (in USD, no less), in practice, at least; in a country where categorisation on "social" bases is not only par for the course, but also legalised, where "ownership" of land takes precedence over opportunities for employment, and where sweeping changes are made in the name of development without adequate measures for those who will bear the real cost...a country that is centuries old and has been an independent nation state for over six decades, but must still rely on stopgap measures for its security, and will spend months and millions "saluting" the spirit of her people, but will never actually get around to putting the required infrastructure into place...in a country where the homeless elderly crouch in the nooks and crannies of posh residential areas, how do you define terms like 'growth', 'development' and 'prosperity'? For heaven's sake, these terms have been the focus of decades of research and discussion; isn't it just a tad presumptuous to claim that we've got it right already?

Acres and acres of land may lie wasted in certain parts of the country, but it mustn't be used to set up a plant that could feed hundreds of mouths, create hundreds of jobs, educate hundreds of children, and (finally) put a region on the road to development. We will cling to our assertion that we are a primarily agricultural economy, never mind how (un)productive our land is, and that the land is ours. God forbid that someone should come up with a plan that will actually put a scarce resource to good use. We will cling desperately to our belief in what has always been, and our mistrust of what can be, because we are still busy dwelling in the past - culture, systems, ideology. The old may be crumbling right before our eyes - not that we aren't picking at it ourselves - but we will block the road for any new ideas and systems trying to make their way in.

Expressway after expressway, mall after mall, SEZ after SEZ, we are basking in the glory of a new, developed India. We're as good as anyone, anywhere...but don't tamper with the veneer of GDP-increases and sophisticated reports, please, or the poverty and the misery and the failed policies and persistent social problems will show. We have schemes for rural employment, we do. We have schemes for the girl child, plans and policies for all our social and economic problems. We come out with the regulation 200-page report on each of these every fiscal, and we highlight what we have achieved and brush the rest under "still in progress". There is no doubt that detailed plans are in place; they may or may not be sincerely intended (but we'll give them the benefit of the doubt); but between pious intentions and ambitious plans at one end and implementation at the other, something goes horribly, horribly wrong. Meanwhile, we're busy with the details of the facade that we present to the world. Make no mistake, we are a developing economy.

Except that the order of things is messed up. There's no dearth of money to spend (there shouldn't be, definitely not in these, of all times) on the part of the Government. It isn't only about allocating funds to one Plan or Policy and waking up to the fact that there was a Plan, 52 weeks later. It is about better administrative machinery, about greater transparency, about incentives to keep things above board (of course, the very fact that it needs incentives says it all). I do not know if it is the optimistic economics grad within me that says so, or plain lack of worldly wisdom...but then it does make sense to assume that, in an economy like ours, at least, development should be allowed to work its way up, rather than trickle down. The trickle down effect cannot exist here, in the state that we've allowed our affairs to work themselves into. Maybe it is time we realised that escalation of commitment doesn't do such a great job of covering up for errors - both those of commission and of omission.

One catches oneself wondering what it is, exactly, that the State has been doing, anyway. It was a private business house that took upon itself the onus of turning a luxury into a comfort for the common man, and barren land into an industrial hub in the process. Not for a moment is one saying that the decision was not guided by the profit motive - but if industrial and social development come with the profit, is there really anything to complain about? Again, it is the common man that takes upon himself the onus of guarding himself, his city and his country. One didn't see the State doing much in the face of terror - unless one takes into account the fit of social insensitivity and the sheer lack of humanity that overcame our politicians around that time, that is. As they callously, willingly, made gaffe after gaffe, leaving a bleeding city to its own devices, one stared in disbelief and dismay, which swiftly gave way to anger. Who deserves the misery and the tragedy? Who actually does? Or maybe we do, for having allowed them into power in the first place. Maybe this is the price we must pay for that mistake. Once again, the common man has gone back to rebuilding his life. How much, and how many times, can you rebuild using debris and shrapnel, really? Once, maybe, or twice. And then?

So much has changed between the last general elections and the upcoming. It's a series of half-measures and false starts. There have been good times, positive changes...sadly, they serve, more often than not, as security blankets. We'll remain couched in them and hope that the bad times will go away. That's the misfortune. They don't.

Thursday, January 1, 2009

Elusive, as always

I look up as your shadow falls on me,
a transversal on my ruled sheets.
I can't help a smile.

Most days, it is for you.
Sometimes, it is in spite of you.
But you're always the reason.

You remind me of light and darkness.
One word, a gesture, a half-grin,
and grim, protracted silences.

I can chase you away (most days, I manage).
Often, though, you refuse to go.
You don't budge; you simply stand there, smiling down at me

Willing me to understand that I can't defy science;
open windows mean that sunshine can stream in.
They also mean long shadows. That's science.

I settle for the next option:
Stay if you must (please, please stay),
but don't bother me while I go about existing.

You nod in agreement, far too readily
and my suspicions are aroused.
Why are you being so amenable?

Hands in pockets, you smile down at me.
Just knowing that you're there is so unnerving;
but you're oblivious to it all.

Chin up, I look you in the eye
Defiant, questioning, hopeful.
And the shadow melds into the sunshine. Nothing.

I smile to myself, then grin helplessly.
I think of you and sigh and laugh.
Now, I live.

Transition

I love how 2008 gave way, with so much grace, to 2009. Seamless, smooth, beautiful. I can't wait to see what morning will be like.