Puja, Pandal and Bhog

The sound of bamboos tumbling out of a truck's back inevitably had us springing out of bed. The uniformly sized sticks crashing happily together on the ground like a bunch of friends rollicking in the dust and bouncing up and down on each other before settling down and allowing the next batch to land next to them. Living right next to the open air auditorium, we rushed to a safe distance to watch the half open truck unloading its very serious ware. The pandal makers stood nearby sizing up the package received and indicating that they had received one bunch less. These besides the excited loudspeakers were the first important signs that week long Durga Puja celebrations could soon take over the neighbourhood.

The entire programme managed by the Durga Puja Sarbojanin samiti was always an exercise in excellent project management. I can safely say that I have never seen more unified efforts than by a group of people( employees of HAL where my father worked) from the Bengali community. Their visit to our homes a month before the actual festivities even before the bamboos struck ground usually heralded the oncoming festival season. They usually came in groups of four and being acquainted with father they usually began the banter with a “ Aur Ranganath Saab, tho kitna tickets “ and some light jokes and denied cups of tea later they moved onto jovially to the next house in the colony. Have never seen a more apolitical set of friends gathering public approval with so much ease.

Back to the bamboos then , which were followed by blue plastic tarpaulins and the bundles of jute. The workers usually arrived overnight and by the next morning an impressive structure networking a roof holding the blue tarpaulin spawning hundreds of meters appeared. In one important corner god began to take shape. Specially invited artists from Kolkata worked with delicate hands to put to life goddess Durga from her invisible omnipresence. We never tired of watching them through the night because it also gave us a legitimate reason to stay awake and outside our homes.

And not to mention the lovely mattresses which became our acrobatic ground. Jumping up and tumbling down, performing head over heels gymnastics with the friendly mattress cushioning our impact before the good natured uncles gently chased us away.

The celebrations were usually culminated daily with number of shows ranging from Sachin Shankar-Mamta Shankar with their outstanding dance shows to lovely Marathi dramas, a much awaited Orchestra either by Babla Orchestra ( Kalyanji anandji's younger brother) or late Manna De. We had the opportunity to watch Kavita Krishnamurthy, Sudesh Bhosle, Late Gopi Krishna, Hema Malini and even Johnny Lever.

Bengalis besides being extremely jovial and chatty are also amongst the most sweet people. No wonder then I have a host of close friends from amongst them and understand Bengali fairly well. It helps that my name also helps people mistake me to be one.

Having Bengali friends also meant that one got to partake of the best part of Durga puja, the Bhog. The special Khichdi which is made during the day at the pandal when beautifully dressed women in their rich red sarees, hands and legs hennaed a beautiful and the men in their light brown cotton collarless kurtas ( only from Kolkata with their flowery embroidery around the neck) came together in jolly celebration. I always had a standing invite.

Today as the festival progresses in India, I recalled the bhog and called up my friends Somnath and Jayathi to get a detailed recipe of the Bhog khichadi. Strong visual memories came rushing back and I had to make this East Indian version of the Pongol with a rollicking mix of Mung Bean and Rice frolicking around with roasted spices ranging from clove to star anise to cinnamon.

The result was good but still something was missing. I think it was the vibrant positive air at mass gatherings of happy humans that makes the cooking even more smack worthy. Well for now this should be a good second to anchor down the beautiful memories before they disappeared

Happy Durga Puja friends !

Air conditioned welcome - Claustrophobic Exit

Have you people ever noticed that when we go to a movie we enter through a glamorous entry door
with the most fanciful decor that the multiplex can afford and blasting air conditioners requiring you to reach out for your cardigans ushered in by the most polite staff this side of the exit door

Fast forward to the end of the movie and post the mandatory credits song number you look out for the smiling usher and face a stern cleaning personnel who glares at your popcorn burping face . You hurriedly deposit your carton and plastic cup into the yawning plastic bag and then look towards the shady hidden exit door next to the screen as she now stands blocking the door you came in by.

Yes sir . You cannot go out as you came in . You stumble out into a claustrophobic windowless unpainted tunnel that reeks of two decades old trapped air and seems to keep opening through mysterious dirty doors into even more darker dirtier pathways till you hit the final door

You either land straight out in the garbage laden footpath behind the multiplex or thrown out straight into a road away from the mall and the multiplex

I wonder at the marketing strategy of the mall and multiplex folks. Do they perhaps conclude that these margarine or caramel burping folks have hit rock bottom on their liquidity and there is no lurking customer within so no point in pampering him or her with a plush exit . Or perhaps they are ashamed of us . " How could you even watch this movie ? Sneak away please . We are ashamed of you !"

Of course I spend my silent tread back through the dirty corridor listening to the hushed critique of the patrons and wonder what was so " dhaasu" or "sahee" about the movie.

The most telling comment I have always heard is " This is a Dvd movie . No point in wasting time here "

I wonder if it meant we can waste time watching the movie anyway but no point wasting time walking through the dirty exits

Sorry Sindhu you lost the gold because of Me !

Sorry PV Sindhu. You lost because of me! I know I am as shocked as you are. But believe me I have convinced myself that you lost the gold because of me. So it started like this.

Post a hard day’s work I reached my home and proceeded to unlace my shoes outside the door. There was the faint sound of TV with those clucking shuttle sounds coming through the lizard gap at the bottom. Lizard gap ..What’s that you ask ? Let me not digress because that is another big story. So I push open the door with the friendly auto lock and I find an apparition. Well not an apparition really. But for want of a better word on finding my stunned wife staring wide eyed at the TV set. I looked at the vision on the Television and found you Sindhu playing with a slightly grim expression on your face. The score was around 15-10 I think.

My wife turned and glared at me with Hindi Soap opera eyes – ( what is soap opera eye ..you ask ? Well that is another story ) -

“ Why did you come ?”

I managed a “ Uh ! “ because she is thrilled whenever I come home late and I thought my involuntary attempts to come home earlier than usual could work in my favor.

“ Do you know what you have done ? “ She growled

“ No” I said meekly

“ She was one game ahead and now she is down and trailing “

“But ‘, I protested , ‘ she is trailing NOW .. so she must have been doing weakly since sometime ?” I asked probing possible exclusion from being insinuated with more serious charges.

“ No “ she said and stomped off to the kitchen.

I looked back at the screen marveling at the extremely competitive game in progress. Marin’s forehand was strong I told myself flinching that it could be the undoing for my compatriot . She kept slipping while my wife reappeared with hot scalding tea in a cup in her hands. She looked at the screen and glared accusingly.

“ Look what you have done!! She has lost her confidence now ever since you have come“ I stared back at the TV screen stupefied not sure of my till now, unknown super powers, currently not acting in a beneficial way for sure.

“ Look Mrs. There seems to be some mistake you are blaming me for the game for no valid reason . You cannot be doing this “ I looked hoping to find some look of possible relief abdication in blame.

But no luck. You PV Sindhu lost another point and that was that. The remote was seized from the table . The TV switched off. I walked off not too sure. I wondered when my wife had had morphed from a quiet invisible individual who mouths seventy words per week without emotion to a fiery and superstitious patriot. After a while I made the mistake I came back and switched the TV back on and you were doing well at 14 -10 . Well not too bad. And then 16 -12. Oh oh this was getting bad. I told myself . My wife wanted nothing but gold. And I had to work really hard. I tried focusing for you. But Marin was good. Soon it was over and we were delighted with the silver you won. Or so I thought when I heard a shriek behind me.

“ You switched it on again ? . Don’t you realize your being inside with the TV off was helping her gain ground . She was 10-10 and she won the first game reversing her bad game. You’re not being in the house helped a lot. The least you could have done for your country is to have stayed back at office till this match was over !!! “ Eyes fiery red looked at accusingly at me.

I shriveled. Horrified at how I had let my nation down.

“ But she won the silver for us . The first silver? “ I offered meekly as a consolation. But my wife could have none of it.

“ Just stop. You let the gold slip away. Poor girl had put her heart and soul into it” My wife stomped to the kitchen and returned with my food plate in her hands.

“ Now have your dinner” I looked at the TV set.

The TV anchor was announcing that you PV Sindhu had settled for silver. Settled ? Settled ? I mean like you fought for it. Why settled? I looked back at my dinner. Two Indian breads sabotaged to their sunny side in dark brown up stared back at me. Well the cook was angry for sure. I too settled to my dinner. The only silver lining in my day I guess.

But Sindhu O Sindhu. Congratulations You have done the nation proud ! Next time I promise to keep the TV switched off or stay back at the office .

Jai Hind !

Sorry Sindhu you lost the gold because of Me !

Sorry PV Sindhu. You lost because of me! I know I am as shocked as you are. But believe me I have convinced myself that you lost the gold because of me. So it started like this.

Post a hard day’s work I reached my home and proceeded to unlace my shoes outside the door. There was the faint sound of TV with those clucking shuttle sounds coming through the lizard gap at the bottom. Lizard gap ..What’s that you ask ? Let me not digress because that is another big story. So I push open the door with the friendly auto lock and I find an apparition. Well not an apparition really. But for want of a better word on finding my stunned wife staring wide eyed at the TV set. I looked at the vision on the Television and found you Sindhu playing with a slightly grim expression on your face. The score was around 15-10 I think.

My wife turned and glared at me with Hindi Soap opera eyes – ( what is soap opera eye ..you ask ? Well that is another story ) -

“ Why did you come ?”

I managed a “ Uh ! “ because she is thrilled whenever I come home late and I thought my involuntary attempts to come home earlier than usual could work in my favor.

“ Do you know what you have done ? “ She growled

“ No” I said meekly

“ She was one game ahead and now she is down and trailing “

“But ‘, I protested , ‘ she is trailing NOW .. so she must have been doing weakly since sometime ?” I asked probing possible exclusion from being insinuated with more serious charges.

“ No “ she said and stomped off to the kitchen.

I looked back at the screen marveling at the extremely competitive game in progress. Marin’s forehand was strong I told myself flinching that it could be the undoing for my compatriot . She kept slipping while my wife reappeared with hot scalding tea in a cup in her hands. She looked at the screen and glared accusingly.

“ Look what you have done!! She has lost her confidence now ever since you have come“ I stared back at the TV screen stupefied not sure of my till now, unknown super powers, currently not acting in a beneficial way for sure.

“ Look Mrs. There seems to be some mistake you are blaming me for the game for no valid reason . You cannot be doing this “ I looked hoping to find some look of possible relief abdication in blame.

But no luck. You PV Sindhu lost another point and that was that. The remote was seized from the table . The TV switched off. I walked off not too sure. I wondered when my wife had had morphed from a quiet invisible individual who mouths seventy words per week without emotion to a fiery and superstitious patriot. After a while I made the mistake I came back and switched the TV back on and you were doing well at 14 -10 . Well not too bad. And then 16 -12. Oh oh this was getting bad. I told myself . My wife wanted nothing but gold. And I had to work really hard. I tried focusing for you. But Marin was good. Soon it was over and we were delighted with the silver you won. Or so I thought when I heard a shriek behind me.

“ You switched it on again ? . Don’t you realize your being inside with the TV off was helping her gain ground . She was 10-10 and she won the first game reversing her bad game. You’re not being in the house helped a lot. The least you could have done for your country is to have stayed back at office till this match was over !!! “ Eyes fiery red looked at accusingly at me.

I shriveled. Horrified at how I had let my nation down.

“ But she won the silver for us . The first silver? “ I offered meekly as a consolation. But my wife could have none of it.

“ Just stop. You let the gold slip away. Poor girl had put her heart and soul into it” My wife stomped to the kitchen and returned with my food plate in her hands.

“ Now have your dinner” I looked at the TV set.

The TV anchor was announcing that you PV Sindhu had settled for silver. Settled ? Settled ? I mean like you fought for it. Why settled? I looked back at my dinner. Two Indian breads sabotaged to their sunny side in dark brown up stared back at me. Well the cook was angry for sure. I too settled to my dinner. The only silver lining in my day I guess.

But Sindhu O Sindhu. Congratulations You have done the nation proud ! Next time I promise to keep the TV switched off or stay back at the office .

Jai Hind !

Silver smiles

Three dozen mikes of channels were stuck into a gentleman's face . Actually just about his chest . The gentleman appeared to be standing up or possibly on a chair as he appeared to be straining to catch some spectacular event unfolding in front of him . But the 3 dozen miles did not appear interested in capturing what was unfolding behind their backs

The mikes almost wanted to transform themselves into cameras to capture every straining vein of the gentleman.
The anchor meanwhile guessed in soft tones . "Something really good is unfolding there "

True we were keen too , to know .

Finally the suspense ended. The gentleman broke into a huge dignified roar compounded with wide smiles

The anchor went " yes she has done it "
And the gentleman jumped down while the miles still on a coalition course with the gentleman s face

The anchor finally clarified " Silver medal assured . She is now into the finals "

A small picture appeared at the corner of the screen while one gasped finally understanding. PV Sindhu had finally gone into the finals assuring India of a silver at least.

Well this is television today . You can watch the actual match and the real protagonist in replays . For now the channels are concerned with the " fantastic " scenes with the friends and families . Sigh !

Applause PVS ! Will search the channels to really search your winning moment :-)

Remembering the Independence day. I think we should perhaps restrict it to remembering and acknowledging than gushing about how happy we are.

Good reasons for such strong words. It is a 70 year old story since the colonial masters left us to drive our own destiny. We do our token nods, listen to the mandatory speeches and then move on with our hill station celebrations of the extended weekend. Soam I grudging the celebration at the hill station? Not at all.

Just peeking back to look around us and wondering if everything we see around us is replete with something to be proud of. Let us stop taking credit for something like progress on industrialisation, literacy, modern towns everything that will come by default with very routine governance in a very large country successfully collecting taxes.

But even 70 years after independence we do still roll down your windows to buy your flags from little children dangerously running between the vehicles at the traffic light. We acquire a noble look at the gesture of having contributed to the economical upgradation for the day of a young tot. And by god we did not even negotiate. We did not try to rally any support for our give 3 for 10 rupees line. We let it go. How noble of us. We preen inwardly !

But how did we dismiss the thought that a country no matter its mechanical sojourns to Mars and the third largest army in the world still has children on the street. It is not something we can escape no matter how tinted our car windows become.

Recently we had a law passed which allowed a controlled participation by children in family occupations. I am sure the government has its own compunctions in allowing this to happen. Perhaps a long term plan to register and then act. As in every other laws impacting the country the current government is more trustworthy to come up with something that will protect the masses and especially children.

It may be a strong and spoilsport view but I think we should not gloat of being a powerful and progressive successful country till the last child is off the street and either in schools or in protected environment.

Alleviation of poverty in adults is still some distance away but maybe time to think if we need to gush on occasions as a nation while our little ones try to earn their money to survive.

And for the critics this is not a party dampener or a communist view but a call to our conscience to ask if we are really happy after 7 decades of independence if it does not include ALL OUR CHILDREN ?

pic courtesy:festival celebration blogspot

Bored Bourne Bummer

**

The director clapped his hands together to draw the attention of those milling around the set trying to look as important as they could on a Hollywood set.

“Guys, (Clap Clap) I know this is an extraordinary situation. We have a very low budget. And yet this should look like one of those big releases of the studio. Any ideas how we do this?”

After a deathly silence when one presumes everyone tries to remember the storyline of the previous movies of this series. Sigh. What was that about?. About a grim assassin who tries to remember “ The director tries to get sound bites back into the funeral like eerie silence

“Why was he born?”

“ No idea why he was born boss but sure know somewhere in Cambodia?”

“ Guys Guys focus , why was he Bourne ?. Like why and how did he remember he was Bourne”

“Boss we already addressed that in 3 movies since 2002. The movie goers have caught on . Maybe we should now just say he gets his memory back?”

The director glares back at his inept new recruits. The studios were really on his case with their low budgets. He had decided to shoot the movie straight on the sets without a script. He did not remember why.

“Ok so here’s what we do. We just erase the audience’s mind of the last ten years of the character and reboot them to remember that the hero has forgotten. Clear”

Well it was not clear but the crew nod their heads.

“Secondly, we head to Greece “

“ Greece?

“Boss why would Bourne go to Greece after he has forgotten ?”

The director glares back

“ Because it is the cheapest place on earth you idiot. Besides we get free demonstrations to show. Gives the movie a very serious political thriller look and keeps the audience guessing on what the demonstrations have to do with the story line. Makes for lot s of free action scenes”

The crew is in awe now. The director of photography raises his shaking hand. He has a case of nerves and has had unsteady hands. It always did that after 5 straight glasses. And besides he had agreed to do the movie for free ..Well 50 glasses actually.

“ Yes ?” The director raises an eyebrow

“ Do you think I should do something different “

The director is impressed

“ Well here’s the deal . I do not want to keep repeating ad nauseam about the budgets right. We need to make the audience feel there is a lot going on. So you need to keep it only to tight close ups with reactions of the actors. The people have to guess from the actor’s reaction the tremendous action that must be unfolding in front of the characters. Give your camera a lot of emotion. Remember you are the real actor. The man with the camera. Every time there is a blow thrown, shake your camera like dizzy”

The DOP smiles. “ Of course I can do that “

Raising his shaking drunken hand “ I can ask move the camera so fast through the iron piles at the scrap yard that people just won’t know what’s happening and I will run like crazy with the actors. I think 30 minutes into the movie the audience should be rubbing their eyes wondering if they were seeing things which indeed they will be “ ( breaks into a dizzy smile)

The director smiles back “ Yes you are now catching on. Remember I do not want the camera to be steady for more than 5 seconds at a time. Never should the audience guess that we shoot the main portion in the toy store in Greece. Well there is a huge cost of the toy cars that will be destroyed but I am sure the studios won’t mind losing 2000 dollars”

“Ok so I just thought up the story line. ( How brilliant am I) . Jason is in Thailand sorry Greece like Rambo . But times have changed . So he won’t be cutting trees in a monastery with a scowl to show off his well-toned muscles. Instead we will have a free kick boxing betting fight where he earns his money and every time his head is hit he will remember he acted in this movie before.”

“ Cut back to the home country. We will have the usual dingy room with no windows and important looking people walking around doing nothing while an aged Tommy Lee Jones talks to his new assistant who is a cyber expert. You know nowadays you have to talk a lot of gibberish about computers and show crazy graphics where each call is traced to the caller and one can see the label on their vest. Show a lot of monitors old and new and make sure we get that Snowden type character written in . If necessary make it sound like an Indian name because all these IT kids seem to come from out there.”

The director pauses looks around for compliments. He just had made up the brilliant script of most looked forward to in a quartet of series of an action thriller brand. He had even got a bored Damon back.

“ So do I remember now?”

“ Oh No you don’t . We are going to show the graphics of the windows screen from one of our spoilt monitors which just keeps vibrating to reflect the state of your mind. You just keep that scowl on your face going. You can imagine you got the script to this movie and how annoyed you are. The director wants to bump you off and his assistant will have to make up her mind”

Matt perked up “So does she ?”

Director is annoyed “ We will figure that out Matt as we go along. For now let’s get all these scenes at the toy store shot. “

Matt pipes up “ But what do I do now? “

Director “ Just give 2000 tight close-ups of all possible expressions you can give while trying to remember or stress before and after a fight. I know it is a tough role but remember we have a reputation to live up to “

Matt nods his head and looks towards the bored crew. They pick up their kits and start moving towards the toy store for the night. Their first shot is a spectacular scene where 200 cars are demolished on the street as an evil agent chases the good agent to save the secrets of the greatest nation on earth. It is good fortune that they do not have to explain what happens to the dead 200 drivers in 90 seconds of a car chase on the streets. That was worse than a terrorist attack. Lucky the audience never bothered with such details Two weeks later the shoot is over.

Matt sidles up to the director. “Hi just a couple of doubts” “Yes?”

The director says “ When we bash up more than 200 to 300 cars on the street in the chase will it not mean that many deaths in a night for no reason”

The director is annoyed. He has specially shot the scene in a Benhur parting the seas fashion where a SWAT car cuts through swathes of cars without a dent.

“Don’t cha worry. The Audience is either dumb or numbed out with the opening dizzy scenes” They will be too zonked out to question anything. They will be still trying to remember the gibberish explanations of the story three scenes back. So just rest friend”

Matt is still not at rest “ I want to know which part of the lift was I really hanging to when he escapes the people chasing him while the lift is moving.”

The director is angry “ Look that is not important. What is important is to make the scene look very very slick and give the audience a feeling of mysterious ways of working of the security agency”

“ Ok man, fine. DO I remember in the end ?”

“ Are you nuts. Don’t you want the money. Do you want me to make the next one with Jeremy ?”

Matt is suitably chastened and hastens to forget he even asked those questions. But he for sure was keen to know why would a man who forgot why he existed want to know why he turned into a trained assassin and be scrutinized by the agency and be upset about it. He only remembered he was paid handsomely for the movies before. Fine . He sighs and grimly forgets.

(Someone was shaking me hard. My wife is shaking me.

“It is over . Get up. Enough you sleepy head. Paying ten hard earned dollars to sleep in blasting Air conditioning.”

I am still trying to remember how I wrote that fictionalized account of a movie in the making. I am still trying to remember. I groggily walk out behind 300 other groggy members of the audience. Sigh who wants to remember this. But yes I remember I passed out in the first frame of a chase scene with a shivering camera. What a bummer! )