Saturday, July 30, 2011

To speak or not to speak


The Maharashtra legislative council members have suggested the government to consider a code of speech that will prevent retired police officers and administrators to leak sensitive information. This is in reaction to some sharp comments from former police officers and bureaucrats on several issues from bomb blasts, security, and infrastructure to various scams.

Today the governments in power are in constant introspection from the civil society, pressure groups and the media. The best fodder in such situations is the former officials in charge of the specific departments. The Indian media regularly features opinions of these officials, who often point out loopholes in implementing schemes or executing some projects. Those in power have began to see this as an violation of official powers where certain decisions and developments must remain classified even if the official is no longer in service. When I pondered over this issue, I thought isn’t it the question of ‘To speak or not to speak ‘in general?

Increasingly the world is becoming a small place with us individual’s donning different roles at different times and through different mediums. There are no strict boundaries or time limits to determine which role are we playing at what time. You are a friend, mother, daughter, son, father whoever and also a manager, politician, sportsman, actor at the same time irrespective of the time zone or geographical boundaries. So often you find ‘views expressed are personal’ on someone’s Twitter profile, making it clear not to link or interpret comments to their professional lives. Then how does one decide what to speak, with whom and when. How does one determine if the particular conversation is official or personal?

British Prime Minister David Cameron’s image comes to my mind. Few days ago he was defending his interactions with the News of the World’s editor Rebekah Brooks in personal capacity. In my brief career many times I have had to think before speaking when casual conversations lean towards your professional role. Importantly you don’t want to reveal things that are not supposed to be shared or spoken prematurely. If this is the genuine thought behind the proposal then the suggestion calls for a consideration. But the intention of blocking fair scrutiny or critical analysis of public issues will certainly be harmful to the democracy.

Tuesday, July 26, 2011

Rooting for The Lord @ Lord’s




I was looking for one chance to cheer for team India and Sachin Tendulkar as a compensation for having missed the World Cup celebrations in Mumbai. Since past few days my friend was subjected to some illogical, hypothetical and unimaginable situations created by me to just get a glimpse of The Lord who was in London for the last one month. But the thought of seeing him play at The Home of Cricket never occurred to my mind until my brother urged me to watch a test match instead of a one day international in London.

The 100th test match between India and England was high on emotions and expectations. The biggest of them was Sachin Tendulkar’s 100th international century on the ground that he has failed to concur during the majestic 21 years of cricket. Standing in the gallery capturing The Lord’s Cricket Ground, I saw Suresh Raina on his way for the net practice. Rahul Dravid followed soon and it was the turn of The Master Blaster. Showing the glimpse of an ace cricketer, Sachin stopped for few minutes at the pitch to get a hang of the wicket from the ground staff. This allowed me to quickly move towards the practice area where all other fans were expecting him. The sound of ‘Sachin Sachin’ became louder as he approached the MCC Cricket Academy Ground for the net practice.

Soon it was time to take the seats. VVS Laxman and Rahul Dravid were taking guard as need to draw the match was on every Indian supporter’s mind. Just as Rahul Dravid was out a group of Indian supporters near me were seen cheering and clapping. It was evident that they were hoping for more wickets to fall to watch their favourite batsman play at The Mecca of Cricket. The stadium was alive and crowds applauded the master’s entry as Gautam Gambhir’s wicket paved way for Sachin’s chance to score at Lord’s. Sitting under the hot sun me and my friend were wondering what must be going to through the mind of Sachin Tendulkar. Be constantly under pressure to excel in every match with expectation of more than 1 billion Indian fans. Concentrate on the task and not be bothered with the surrounding noise and mind games on the field. Recovering from the viral fever. Anticipation of that 100th ton during the 100th test between India & England, on the ground he was playing after 20 years with not even a half century under his belt. It would have been a dream, just like winning the World Cup at Wankhede stadium was. These thoughts reminded me of watching cricket matches at Wankhede with chants of Ganapti Bappa Morya booming in the stadium.

It was post lunch, Raina was hitting the ball well and it was a slow start for Sachin. He was seen keen on giving the strike to Raina and was stuck with 11 runs for long time. It was when I heard the familiar Ganapati Bappa Morya chants from the North Stand, full of Indian supporters. Sachin’s 12th run was cheered by every Indian fan inside the stadium. The dropped catch off Anderson’s delivery caught my breath as Sachin survived. But was trapped leg before on the every next ball. As the fall of another wicket sunk in, I realised Lord’s was giving standing ovation to one of the greatest cricketer to dwarf all the possible records in the history. I followed suite, cheering for the man I first saw at the Wankhede stadium, playing a Ranaji Trophy game for Mumbai and took his autograph. Two decades later I was as much eager to get a glimpse of Tendlya as he continues to inspire us.

Thursday, July 21, 2011

A tribute to a friend whom I shall meet only in spirit


As I signed in, my FB page listed today’s birthday but the birthday girl left us for her heavenly abode, leaving fond memories behind. No wall updates, no HB messages. My mind raced to so many birthday wishes and calls as we cherished the decade long friendship.

A casual meeting in the corridor on the first day of senior college had transformed into a formidable bond irrespective of the distance and time. She truly epitomised the phrase ‘friend in need is a friend indeed’ when I banked on her for notes during exams. Asking for her History notes was my birth right! The nervousness of appearing for exam disappeared with her assurance that I will do well. Remember the late evening when we both decided to visit the Kalina campus on knowing our graduation results were out. This was when results were not announced online, but pasted on a notice board in building somewhere in the corner of that deadly campus. We checked our results under a dim tube light accompanied by couple of other friends.

I enjoyed her company on the same campus when we both enrolled for post graduation. She failed to quell my restlessness to sit quietly and study in the library, surrounded by thick books on political science and economics. Hard to believe it’s the same me who prefers quite study zone to work on assignments at my university in London. That friendly pestering for missing lectures was not new. I was used to it since college as I visited cyber cafe in the days when personal computers were not so commonly owned. She introduced me to the world of making friends online when Orkut, Facebook were unheard of. Thanks to that I made some amazing friends through the Internet. I always admired her courage and positive attitude to face adversities with a smiling face.

Out of sight is not out of mind is so true for some relationships. Our friendship was one of them. Those long on-line chats were our focal connecting point when both of us were in different cities. The short mail with birthday wishes when we were across time zones meant a lot in the age of on-line wishes. It was yet another chat that turned to be our last meeting until the angels decided to choose my friend whom I shall only meet in spirit.

Wednesday, July 20, 2011

An outsider’s view of two parliaments – India and Britain



Last two days bought a renewed excitement for me. After a long time I was kicked about following current affairs than worrying about business stories and market trends. Watching Rupert and James Murdoch and Rebekah Brooks defending the News Of The World’s phone hacking scandal in front of a committee of MPs was first instance of my exposure to parliamentary committee proceedings. Live streaming of David Cameron’s defence in the parliament today was another such learning experience.

But as I watched these two developments, I pondered if joint parliamentary proceedings on a critical issue like this will ever be telecasted live in India? As of now Impossible seems the answer. Secondly I was amazed to see the discipline, assertiveness and an effort to discuss the current issue by the British MPs. Instead, I imagine in India the blame games and accusation within and against the government would have generated more discussions than the actual issue.

Indian politics and current affairs always fascinated me, which in a sense encouraged me to graduate in political science. Some of my early memories are of following election results and discussions on NDTV moderated by Prannoy Roy and Rajdeep Sardesai and eagerly watching the live telecast of union budget. I remember prime minister Atal Bihari Vajpayee’s style of speaking in chest Hindi supported by some nice poems. Arun Shourie, Pramod Mahajan, Yashwant Sinha and P A Sangma’s name comes to mind when I remember parliament debates. Though I keep abreast of the current developments, following it closely has its own charm. This was mostly in late 1990s when National Democratic Alliance was in power; hence recollection is restricted to that time.

As a common citizen with no access to political circle, what I notice is Indian politician’s inability to allow fair discussions. These days media reports of how tax payer’s money is wasted in adjournment motions are as routine as, reports of potholes on Mumbai roads every monsoon. Issues are the same, reports are the same, but no concrete action.Looks like walkouts, adjournments; MPs shouting and coming to the speaker’s well is the order of the day. No wonder eminent parliamentarian like Somnath Chatterjee was frustrated to be the Lok Sabha speaker.

In contrast, the British parliament today, gave me a glimpse how a sensitive and critical issue can be discussed in a professional and civilian manner. The parliament members were obeying speaker’s instructions, allowing fellow members to ask questions and the prime minister to reply. It showed the actual power of the speaker and how debate can be conducted in a dignified and measured tone. It also gives the impression, amongst all other reforms, its high time our representatives reflect on the ways to enhance the level of parliamentary proceedings and discussions with due respect to the institution.

Thursday, July 14, 2011

When the terror memories hound you....


As a 12 year old kid one day I was playing near my building, waiting to go with my mother for a relative’s wedding shopping at Dadar market, when she suddenly cancelled the plan. Reason: a neighbour who came from that side informed about a possible bomb blast at the Plaza Theatre. Yes, I did hear some noise, but had thought it to be sound of a firecracker from a wedding at the nearby church. Little did I know that ‘firecracker sound’ in 1993 will become a regular pattern in my life as I grow up in this buzzing city called Mumbai.

Yesterday again the terror struck at my backyard as I watched images of the very area I live in been cordoned off as a bomb exploded on the roof of a bus stop. The live streaming was showing the damaged bus stop in front of the school that my brother studied in, the foot path I have walked on umpteen numbers of times, the familiar Hanuman Temple, the Jesus Cross and the hardware shop that was damaged. It was the same time my mother returns from work and walks the very same foot path to buy vegetables. As I spoke to my father we both were relieved that the school children were safe. Mother was sad to know that old woman from whom she occasionally bought fruits lost her life.

Following the blast updates from my university library in London, I felt as if there is a set time table to blow Mumbai every two years. In 2005 I was returning home from work when I saw unusual traffic jam when a fellow passenger informed about bomb blasts in Mumbai local trains. A year earlier I had covered the bomb blast in a bus at Ghatkopar as one of my early experiences as a newspaper reporter. The Zaveri Bazaar and Gateway blasts followed with a horrific terror attack in November 2008. The terror attack, like 2005 floods, will never be forgotten by anyone. In fact most of the Mumbai citizens by now have some dark memory of riots; bomb blast, terror attacks, floods, and god know what is going to follow.

The famed ‘Spirit of Mumbai’ manifested its online avatar minutes after the blasts. Facebook and Twitter were flooded with initiatives to help people – a car lift towards suburbs, offer to host those stranded, phone numbers and addresses of nearby doctors or hospitals been shared or re-tweeted. This rubbished the cynicism of some who question this habbit of sharing helpline numbers on the internet. This same spirit has made us Mumbaikars strong and resilient. But I am not sure how much stronger can we be or should be as ‘the city gets back to normal a day after’.

Sunday, July 10, 2011

Have you wondered about your favourite bus route?


It was hot afternoon when we boarded our usual bus no 71 from busy Eden Street that my friend remarked, ‘I hate 111, 131 their routes are so long, 71 is the best, it goes straight’. This made me think, I am not the only person having peculiar thoughts about bus routes. Living at Dadar, I have mostly travelled by bus to school, college, classes, work, anywhere in Mumbai. These bus travels have developed certain notions and memories about particular bus routes in my mind.

When I think of Mumbai buses I remember bus nos 165, 164, 385, 81, 85, 324, 79, 33, 87, 91, 28 and the list can be expanded. I can associate some memories, incidents, people I travelled with or something or the other with each of these bus routes. Bus no 165 has been a permanent companion from childhood till date. The landmark for my house is ‘ building behind 165 bus stop towards Worli’. This will be amusing for Londoners who depend on tube and location maps to travel. I use to take the same bus in the opposite direction to catch those early morning lectures at college. The 7 am 165 use to be full with school kids, most of them disembarking at my stop, making way for us other regular travellers. The daily routine to see the bus conductor managing the school kids and his witty conversations were fun to watch. The same conductor knew his other passengers and we never had to mention the stop we wanted to get off at, the ticket would be ready in our hands.

There was something I liked about route no 81, but still can’t figure out what was it. So many time when we were engrossed in chatting on the bus stop, my friend would say ‘your favourite bust has come, will see you tomorrow’. Was it the particular seat I use to scramble for while travelling to French classes? But I know why bus no 324 was my favourite while returning home from a tiring day when I was working at Business Standard. Doordarshan was the starting point, I got the window seat and the bus stopped right opposite my house! Bus travels on routes 87 and 91 remind me of several visits to my aunts' house, 79 and 33 will always be associated with my first job at Andheri.

This saga has continued in London too. My first Red Bus ride was no route 131, travelling from New Malden to Fairfield Bus Station. One of the early experiences of travelling in London was the recorded tapes inside the bus – 131 to Tooting Broadway. The journey in 111 to Heathrow Central will always be remembered for my early days in London, horrendous travel time to reach my university campus and for many more reasons. And I cannot forget 85 to Putney Bridge, my all time companion while studying at Kingston University. Another day when I was boarding the same bus home, I heard a guy telling his friend ‘this is my favourite bus’. Have you ever wondered about your favourite or not so favourite bus route?

Friday, July 8, 2011

Shit Happens but All Is Well !!


Last weekend my FB wall was clogged, literally! Aamir Khan's latest movie Delhi Belly had stormed everyone’s mind, making it a must watch movie for Gen Next. So we decided to watch it in theatre here in London. And this is where our story began.

As me and my friends were waiting in the cinema hall to see what this fuzz is about, a technician informed us about possible delay of 10 mins due to a technical problems. Ten minutes stretched to 20, and we were told the problem should be detected in next 5 mins. This 30 mins delay lead to the obvious fear of not been able to watch Delhi Belly today. The general manager came just in time with the bad news and a compensation of one free ticket for any movie at any of the theatre chain’s branches in England. My friend’s first reaction was – Galti kar raha hai, Indians ko free ticket de raha hai. Yes, mistake it was. One woman mentioned about spending on food too, and the one free ticket offer was extended to 2 free tickets to each person present in that hall.

Happy to have got two free tickets each, we walked out of the hall thinking how can we catch Delhi Belly today itself. We thought of watching it at another branch of the same theatre chain at Feltham. That meant we had to travelling for at least 1 hr from Wandsworth in South London to Feltham in West London. Meanwhile enquiry with the theatre staff gave some hopes of movie been screened if the problem is solved. Now another option was to wait and hope the movie will be screened. My friend approached the general manager again who was curious to know why we wanted to watch the movie so badly when others were ‘ready to swindle me’. This persuasion helped as the problem was solved, manager ready to screen the movie. But Alas! No screen was available. There fades our hope again.

As we were about to pack off here comes the manager, again with an offer to reserve tickets for us at Feltham provided we reach there on time. With barely 1 hr to go for the show, no idea how we were supposed to reach Feltham from Wandsworth, we three set off to watch Delhi Belly again. Mind you London is not like Mumbai where you travel on three main railway lines and know station names and their order by heart. Frantic calls to friends to locate route map on TFL (Transport For London website –our all-time saviour), hoping into a bus headed on wrong direction, catching the national rail just in time, we managed to reach the Feltham branch merely 15 minutes before the show. Out trail from Wandsworth to Feltham was perhaps crooning the famous song Bhag D K Bose Bhag!

Once at Feltham we met a rude customer service executive on the ticket counter, his face saying ‘you free loaders don’t bother, my show is full’. Not willing to understand, we asked him to check with his manager. A smiling manager apologising to us with envelope of reserved tickets us made our day. It was an apt example of how good customer service can work miracles. He ensured we got the preference when the screen opened and choose the best seats. Finally we were entering the cinema hall ushered by the manager as 150 people standing in the line were wondering what the fuzz is all about!!

Saturday, July 2, 2011

The humble scrambled egg


When I was preparing to come to London one of my friend insisted, go and enjoy the English breakfast there. I always had fetish for hash browns, had tasted baked beans and of course the scrambled eggs. My first English breakfast was as expected, enjoyable and filling. Eating that lovely breakfast on the street side cafe under the bright sun was relaxing.

As always I did not to finish the scrambled eggs soon. Eggs have always been a part of my diet. Mother makes them in different ways, dry egg bhaji, egg omelette, half fry, egg curry and egg bhurji. Egg bhurji is a spiced version of the known scrambled eggs. My all time favourite is the simple scrambled egg. Don't know if I make it as per the prescribed recipe, but I love scrambled egg sprinkled with black pepper powder. Its my first choice whenever I go for buffet breakfast. On the other hand egg bhurji has its own place. I like to eat the hot bhurji made in iron wok or tava, as we call it, with hot chapati. The smell of tava bhurji been prepared on the roadside stalls in Mumbai mesmerizes you. The site of people crowding these stalls and hearing of clanging sound of the wok is common to us Mumbaikars.
Its the same with egg omelettes. I prefer plain omelettes instead of the spicy ones prepared with onion, tomatoes, chillies and coriander. Not to forget the yummy Tibbs egg frankie that becomes your saviour at the Churchgate station. Wrap, eggs, little of chat masala, soya sauce makes one of the yummiest frankies that I have ever eaten. I remembered all this I was relishing another filling omelette breakfast at one of the cafes in Kingston.