Telangana

K Chandrasekhar Rao of the Telangana Rashtriya Samithi goes on a fast unto death for the formation of a separate Telangana. On the 11th day of his fast, with violence and unrest mounting, the Center takes a decision overnight to 'begin the process of a separate Telangana state'. People are dumbfounded. Ministers and MLAs resign (100+ so far); people all over Andhra and Rayalseema start an agitation; Hyderabad is much sought after, much like Krishna caught in the fight between Rukmini and Satyabhama in Sri Krishna Rayabaram! Now the announcement from the Center that Hyderabad would of course be the capital of Telangana, simply because it is_in_Telangana.

Noise and unrest everywhere; unpredictability; disruption in normal life...the children have already had three unexpected holidays because of bandhs...oh, I pine for some quiet and peace.

I really do not know what to make of all this. Of course, the Telangana agitation is a very old one, so there really is no need for anyone to be surprised by this (as is the reaction of many, especially young people). Telanganas have been a downtrodden lot, and they deserve some resources and attention. But I am not sure if carving out a separate state is the answer, especially because I don't see a smart leadership. KCR has neither the strength nor the charisma; TRS fared very badly in the recent elections; so what are these jokers going to do, being in power, heading a state?

I am very much a Telanganite...well, half Telangana...my father is from Warangal and my mother from Bangalore. But I love my language and the culture I have grown up in. Telanganas are very large-hearted and simple people. They are not shrewd and smart...which is perhaps why they have ended up likes this. But then, I am married to an Andhra and I have blended well into Vijay's family. So I find it very difficult to shout "Jai Telangana". What for? Can't KCR and company ask for a better deal without a separate state? Maybe not, when I see the thugs who are running this state.

I'll stay out of the politics. I just feel very sad that this is happening. I basically hate partitions. I still feel sad about the India-Pakistan partition. Nothing to do with the shape of the map or anything, but the whole idea of a separation. Does it have to be this way?

We wait and watch as events unfurl before us...but I do feel that 2009 has been very bad for AP. The elections with the unexpectedly disgusting results (Congress won by a huge majority); YSR's gory end; the no-rain, then too-much-rain-and-flooding where hundreds of people lost their lives. And now this unrest all over the state.

It has also opened a pandora's box, and the effect is showing in many other parts of India too. And all this when we, as human beings, should come together with just one agenda: not to abuse the Earth further...

This, I am told, is being idealistic, and it is not good to be this way.

Weather watch...Hyderabadi winter

About 5 years back, I used to take out the 4-5 waist coats I have, around September, and wear them on and off. In the recent years, I haven't been able to do that for it has been too hot for waist coats. Come November-December, I would be able to live in silks and the few synthetics that I have. Cottons made me feel cold, and I kept them away for the always-on-time summer. This has been my measure of the post-rainy and early winter weather.

Since some years, no waist coats at all till November. This year, it has been pleasant and cold since Nov, as it should be, at least early morning and night. The minimum temperature has reached 15 degrees centigrade. Daytime is as usual, hot (30-31 degrees C).

One funny thing, though. The Tabebuias (the yellow ones) are a perplexed lot this year. I saw the ones on the Necklace road flowering fully in Jan-Feb (right time for them to flower) last year; then I again saw flowers on and off in July-Aug (surprise!), and now, in December, they are flowering again...not turning yellow completely, but some yellow peeping out from the green...it truly a confused tree, poor thing...and it doesn't even know about Copenhagen!

The Jasraj show in Hyderabad

This year, Jasraj threw his US sishyas at us unsuspecting Hyderabadis. Even Chowmohalla could not rescue the situation. And Durga Jasraj seems to be at an all-time low in confidence levels. Some of the other programs they put together were also not good.

I pine for Sawai Gandharva...yes, I plan to go...New English School, Shanivarpet, Pune, 7-10 Jan 2010.

What's beetroot called in Telugu?

I have to record this dinnertime conversation for posterity because it is very funny, very Maloo. But you need to know Telugu and Hyderabad to understand it. Any explanation will spoil the spontaneity.

Vijay asked whether Maloo knew the other Telugu name for potato.

Maloo: The other name for potato? Alu gadda?
No?
Ulli gadda?
No?
I know...erra gadda!

We start laughing.

And Maloo says...."Sorry...erra gadda is beetroot, right?

Great logic there...we are in splits now!!

A refreshing day

The other day, on an impulse, I set off to the University of Hyderabad, one hour away from the city, to see some chalk art by Tracy Lee Stum. Took a ride with my friend Usha, who teaches there. The ride was great, the weather perfect (cool and cloudy), and I enjoyed chatting with my friend for an hour.

However, when she dropped me off at the auditorium where the chalk art had been done, I discovered that the art work had been washed away in the previous night's rain!

I now had to either sit under a tree and read the book I was carrying, or go to my friend's department and sit in the library, or head back home. I decided on the last option, but in an unhurried way. I decided to take the train instead---I had been wanting to take the MMTS since some time, but hadn't done it. So I walked back about 3 km to the gate, took a shared auto to the MMTS station, then the train to Hyderabad for Rs 3 ! As I walked down the lane to the station, I was rewarded with this photo-op.

The MMTS ride was great, and I got off at our very own picturesque Necklace Road. Then, again on an impulse, went to the multiplex to see a children's film (International Children's Film Festival was on). I was again rewarded---saw a very good film---Siri Raja Siri (Sri Lanka). All in all, a great day! I am now inspired to take a train out of town on an unplanned rail adventure :)

Dream coming true...

This is why I was happy on Deepavali! My garden is thriving (see background post 'Dreams'). We not only have trees, but some shrubs and creepers as well. Some are even flowering now. We also painted a few walls with jaju (geru in Hindi). The place looks attractive and children and some adults come every evening to water the plants or to just walk around.

And what's more, we also have a table tennis table in our complex. We play every day...sport is back in my life! At one time it was my life...what I am today is because of sport...a post on this later when I have some time, for this topic is very close to my heart, and it is emotionally draining to write about it. One day I will.

In the meantime, have a look at these pictures.

This is how it was when we began

Children painting the drab wall

The little ones had a great time!

Children sowing dhania and methi

The completed wall

Cordia has begun flowering

...and so have some others!

Inauguration of the TT table

The inaugural match: Champ vs champ. We have ex-Champ---Coach Nagender Reddy--- and his son (Vighnay) who is the State no 1, living in our building

Perfection

Three years back, I lost my watch. It was a watch I had chosen and had for a very long time. I loved it; it seemed just right on my hand. But over the years, I got used to its simple beauty, and began to take it for granted. I even wished I would lose it or something so that I could buy a new watch. Of course, I did have a second (and a third) watch gifted by my family, but I wore this one as a matter of choice.

And one day I lost it. It just fell off from my bag into which I used to carelessly stuff it. Very bad...I know. But to be honest, I was a little happy that it was gone. This too is very bad, I know.

And then began my search for the perfect watch. Titan was my first choice. I looked closely at what they had to offer...the heritage collection interested me. But I was disappointed. Nothing seemed good enough. Then I looked at FastTrack. I liked just one among those, but I had bought that for my daughter two years back, and she loved it and wore it everyday. I couldn't buy the same thing. This search soon turned into an obsession...I couldn't pass by a watch shop without going into it; every mall I went into, I headed towards the watch section, and looked for one that I might spontaneously like. They were good...but there was something lacking. If they had the right look, one couldn't read the time. If the readability was okay, the look wasn't right for me. Too much gold, too much steel, too black, too messy; if the dial was good the strap was steel or gold, and I wanted leather; if the starp was good, the dial wasn't.

I then looked at Citizen, XLS, Omega, Christian Dior---at one point I thought expense was not the criterion; I must find a watch that was just right for me.

It was only then that I began to understand what my old watch had meant to me. I did not even have a photograph...I went back and described it to the Titan showroom guy and asked him if that model was still available. He said no, the old models didn't come any more.

In the meantime, my brother Gautham gifted me a new eco-drive watch, that had no battery...it charged automatically with light! I liked new technology and I liked the watch too...but somehow it didn't seem like my watch. My wrist was still unhappy.

Last month I went to a watch shop in Warangal to buy a watch for my sister-in-law Deepthi. I looked at all the models to pick one she might like. And as my ever-searching eyes looked, my eye fell on one model...it seemed soothing to the eye; there was something delicate and special about it...it seemed just right. I asked them to show it to me. And...believe it or not...it was the very same model as my lost watch, whose value I had realised over and over again during this time. I could not believe my luck! With great happiness, I bought it for Rs 750, wore it in the shop itself, and was on cloud nine the whole day...just floating happily, looking at my just right! Here it is, photographed for posterity...and no, I will never lose it again.

This watch, I think, illustrates a quotation from one of our printer friend's emails:
Small small things make perfection
But perfection is not a small thing.

Baby caterpillar walk

This little fellow was taking a walk on my keyboard. I rescued him from being crushed by the keys...!

Happy Deepavali

It has been a very special Deepavali for me. I am very happy. I will write about this soon. Have been a bit too busy for my liking...what to do?

Since I am posting this after Deepavali, hope you had a great day, dear reader.

Weather watch: This is what's been happening

As they say in Telugu: ativrushti, anavrushti...either we have too much of something, or too little...I feel very sad to see the plight of millions of people suffering and homeless because of the floods. Can we ever learn to deal with the eccentricities of nature?

Painting the wall red

Lens and Sensibility: 3 years, 133 posts old!

I've done 3 years of blogging, and am very happy I haven't given up! It makes me as satisfied as it made me in the beginning. Only, I have become more casual about it...while in 2006 when I began blogging, it was still not so common, now everyone blogs, from Big B to Sadhana Ramchander.

I have made some interesting friends because of my blog...Anita Vaccharajani, a writer from Mumbai, who wrote a lovely book on India "Amazing India: a state-by-state guide"; Lakshmi Prabala, a very talented photographer from Hyderabad; and Mayank Bhatnagar, an artist from Jaipur. Their friendship has crept out of my blog's comments box, into the in-box of my email, and in one case, to my phone. I hope to meet these people some day, hopefully soon.

This exercise in writing has kept me in touch with people who I care about, and has also enabled all kinds of people to get to know me better (including my own parents). I recently bumped into Mrs Lakshmi, an old friend who now lives in Sri Lanka...she warmly gave me a hug and one of the first things she told me was that she regularly reads and enjoys reading my blog, and that she knows much more about me now! I was somewhat embarassed, but it felt very good!

Apart from this, Lens and Sensibility has also been a weather watch, especially in the rainy season, when the worry of the lack of rains gnaws at me and then I refer to the previous years' blogs to see how the pattern has been changing (no newspaper database for me!). I inherited this rain-obsession from my father who has always been very conscious of the importance of a good monsoon.

This space has been a travellogue too, as I always write about the new places I go to. And there are always those times when I express disappointment, anger, anguish, and many a time, happiness. So, Lens and Sensibility continues to be a mirror to my life, emotions, optimism.

I thank all my readers for visiting this space, and invite them to keep coming back. There is much to talk about and much to reflect; much to hope for and much to change.

As says children's writer Shel Silverstein, in Where the Sidewalk ends:
"If you are a dreamer, come in,
If you are a dreamer,
A wisher, a liar;
A hope-er, a pray-er;
A magic bean buyer...
Come in!"
...and walk with me as I enter my fourth year of this virtual journey, which, at one end is connected to a very real black keyboard on which type my very real fingers, signalled by a very real brain that three years back, conjured up the words L-e-n-s a-n-d S-e-n-s-i-b-i-l-it-y!

Shakespeare evening at Antu's

With Antu (my cousin) being in Hyderabad, can Shakespeare be far behind? We read Midsummer night's dream Sunday evening and it was great fun. Felt good to read the bard after many many years. Used to have a play every year in school...I was in primary school when we did MND and played one of the fairies who is called to scratch the ass's head! In this photo, Antu as Bottom (turned into an ass) and Kobita as Titania who is smitten by the ass because of a love potion smeared on her eyelids as she sleeps.

The kids had a ball, with Maloo playing lion, Rahel the wall and Esha moonshine.

Did we find a pitcher plant?!

Kobita and I went to KBR Park with the children to look for an insectivorous plant we had found same time last year. It is called Sun Dew. No luck...BUT, while looking for this one, Kobita found another plant, a creeper, with flowers that look exactly like the pitcher plant (see photo above)! WOW!

The photo below is from the internet, of a pitcher plant from Mt Ampaca in the Philippines.

Very similar, no? So, did we find a pitcher plant? Yipppeeee!!!!!!

Note written on 8 Oct 2009: Kobita discovered that this is called Aristolochia indica, and it is not a pitcher plant. Common names are: Indian birthwort, हुक्का बेल Hooka-bel (Hindi), Isvaberusa (Kannada), Isvaramuli (Tamil), Esvaraveru (Telugu), Arkmula (Gujarati), Sampsun (Marathi), Garudakkoti (Malayalam). More on this plant at http://www.flowersofindia.net/catalog/slides/Indian%20Birthwort.html

Flower at Naimisam

Maloo took this photo at Naimisam, the Jiddu Krishnamurti retreat in Ghatkesar, an hour's drive from Hyderabad, where we had a blissful time listening to rustling peepals and bird song, and playing with Sai and Lucky, the two dogs who stole our hearts!

YSR's chopper crashes in Nallamalla forest

We have been watching the news channels continuously for 24 hours ever since we learnt that Chief Minister YSR went missing. I woke up thrice in the night to see what happened. Alas, the drama in real life ended in a tragedy. Goodbye CM. Bad decision to move out in a chopper in such weather. Condolences to his family. Also to the families of the four others who died.

One, two, three, four, five...

...six trees planted. Three more to go. Ah...the feel of wet earth!

Dreams

The autorickshaw driver might dream about buying a Nano. The slum dweller might dream about a small house made of bricks where he and his family would not get wet when it rains. The rich person living in a posh house with a garden might dream about growing that exotic plant, or owning a BMW. Just as there are as many realities as there are people, there must be as many kinds of dreams as there are realities.

I dream of justice. Many years ago, my family of gentle, genteel people were cheated out of a beautiful old house by a cunning builder. We faced tragedy and disappointment, we were denied what was rightfully ours. We have been living in a flat on that very land, trying to forget what happened, and getting on with our lives, putting the past behind us. Our children, who never saw the old house say once in a while, "Oh, we could have had beautiful birthday parties in the old house...why did all this happen?"

Many trees were cut down when the old house was replaced with this complex. With heavy hearts we allowed it to happen. But to the left of the building, there were still some trees remaining when we moved here...huge, old trees, one Alphonso and three sapota trees, all bearing the tastiest fruit one would ever find...and tender memories going back a few generations, associated with them. We could still see the birds and the bats from our balcony, and hear the insects at night. Then one day, a few years back, the axe got them too, and soon they were gone, leaving behind stumps, and some more memories.

The pain will never go away. The agony of what could have been gnaws me time and again. Others in the family are luckily more philosophical and spiritual, and believe that perhaps it was meant to be this way. But I am still angry and restless on and off.

Now suddenly an opportunity to do something in the place where the mango and sapota trees had been (last year this time, this had seemed impossible). I waited and watched, hesitated a great deal, and today, I put forward one little step. I got some saplings to plant there, of my choice---tree jasmine, cordia, tulip tree, tabebuia, sampange (the old house had one). Maybe I'll get a bakula too.

To me the planting of a tree represents hope.

A minute part of a dusty old dream is returning, and I tread very cautiously towards making it happen.

But I am afraid of this dream.

It rained! It rained! It rained! It also lightning-ed and thundered! Thank you, God.

Independence Day 2009

Flag hoisting on our terrace, flag hoisting at daughter's school, and then in the evening, a building get-together for some fun and games with I-Day theme. Did a lot of research on the internet while putting together a quiz for the evening. While at it, I discovered some great music for the audio round. Here's a link to one version of Vaishnava Janato.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VS1QkpPltNw&feature=related

Do listen to it...it is lovely.

While searching for the songs on the net, I also came across many proud-to-be-Indian comments by NRIs, especially on YouTube. Ditto with comments on FaceBook.

My simple brain cannot understand why, despite such a deep sense of belonging with India, they cannot return to live here, the land they grew up in, and the land where their ageing parents and other family still lead a happy life. Writer Jaya Madhavan in her column in the Indian Express this morning, talks about her life in the US, before she retrned to India, when she felt, "In the land of seagulls/the crows try to merge with the snow".

They go for a purpose, I understand that. But why do they not return?

The rain, it does not come

It has not been raining at all. There are clouds...there have been clouds ever since the rainy season began. But it does not rain. It rained on 7 June as though to keep a promise, but practically nothing after that. Drizzled one day a few days back, raising some hopes. But once again, dry clouds. It is as though the clouds have forgotten how to rain. As though humankind is being punished for the way they treat nature.

The yagnas didn't help this time. Nor did the frog weddings, or the cloud seeding.

It truly is a dismal time. More than 170 districts in India already declared drought-hit; farmers committing suicide. Swine flu making big bad news every day. Terror threats, of course---the new world's malaise. Prices of commodities have already been high (tur dal Rs 108 a kg)...one can expect further price hikes. It is depressing. Maybe I should stop reading the newspapers or watching news. But even if I do that...how can I escape Yahoo's smooth news capsules? And I definitely cannot ignore the clouds...no technology needed there.

There have been years like this in the past. I tell myself it will pass. It has to pass, and there have to be better times.

My ever-optimistic mother says we still have the rest of August, and the whole of September. It will pour...and we will at least have ground water. I hope she is right. As they say in Hyderabad, "Aapke mooh mein ghee shakkar!"

Mother, daughter, grand-daughter

I dream of being able to paint, sing, dance, act. I can do none of these, but attempt to do them nevertheless! I present here, rather shyly, some colours from my amateur brush...

Butterfly on water

River Krishna in Vijayawada. This butterfly looks cool and happy...but in reality it was struggling to fly away. The water seemed magnetic, pulling it in...

Something philosophical about this scene.

Skipping stones

Childhood...whenever we went on a picnic and found a small pond or a lake, we looked for small flat stones and for the next one hour, all we did was throw the stones close to the surface of the water so they went zip...zip...zip...zip! It was addicting, and a lot of fun.

Did this at Shamirpet yesterday, after many years. For my children, it was an introduction to this fun outdoor pastime. A friend we met there told me this was now a 'sport' and had a name---'skipping stones', and that there were championships too, and that the world record was 40 skips, and that the French had manufactured a machine to determine the size-weight-velocity ratio of the stone that resulted in ideal skip...or something like that!

So I came home and googled 'skipping stones', and among other things, found this interesting info:

• Virtually every culture has a term for stone skipping. The English call it 'ducks and drakes', Danes call it 'smutting'; in France, it is 'ricochet', in Ireland, 'stone skiffing'.
• Eskimos skip rocks on ice; Bedouins on smooth sand.
• Currently, the Guinness Book of World Records accords the title to Jerdone Coleman McGhee, a Texas engineer who in 1992 scored an incredible 38 skips on the Blanco River.
• The grandaddy of all such skip-offs is held every Fourth of July on Michigan's Mackinac Island.
• It was here in 1977 that John Kolar earned the all-time Mackinac record of "24 plus-infinity"---his stone vanished ominously into fog after two dozen skips!
• There's also a book on skipping stones, called The secrets of stone skipping, by Jerdone Coleman-McGhee.
• And what's more...someone seems to have come up with this quote: Skip stones, not school!
• Shakespeare wrote about skipping stones in the original version of Henry V.

Whatever...I am happy I introduced this 'sport' to the kids yesterday!

Image from http://www.yeeha.net/nassa/blife.txt.html

Kabir

I always liked Kabir dohe in school. And one doha that I firmly believed in, and which always guided me, especially during my growing-up years was this:

Dheere dheere re mana, dheere sab kuch hoye
Maali seenche so ghara, ritu aaye phal hoye
(O mind, go slow; things happen at their own pace
A gardener may pour a hundred buckets of water, but the fruit arrives only in its season)

And now I am watching Shabnam Virmani's Kabir Project videos . While the videos are honest, meaningful and aesthetic, I wonder if it is because they deal with Kabir Das, and his ideas, which, now that I finished school (!) I realise, appeal to free-spirited and creative people. However, I must give Shabnam---and Shrishti school of art and design--- great credit for this research.

I was especially touched by 'Koi sunta hai', the video that intertwines Kumar Gandharva's life with Kabir's...both geniuses in their own right. Now I not only know the meaning of the songs in Nirgun ke gun, one of my favourite Kumar Gandharva albums, I also know how he sang them with so much feeling...it came from all the suffering he went through in his life, because of which he discovered Kabir.

Inspired by this video, I delightedly listened, on YouTube, to Kalapini Komkali (Kumar Gandharva's daughter; ah! she really sings like him!) and Bhuvanesh Komkali (his grandson).

And inspired by the Kabir Project, I also pulled out a book I bought a long time back, and began reading it. Written by Jaya Madhavan for Tulika, it is called 'Kabir, the weaver poet'.

Kahe Kabir suno bhai Sadho*!

(My mother sometimes calls me Sadhu!)

Michael Jackson

Why am I feeling so bad about MJ's death? I was never a great fan, just a curious onlooker, looking at his life from a corner of my eye. Yes, 'Beat it' and 'Bad' were part of my growing up, but that's all.

I would like to remember him as he looks in this picture, not the ghost he had become. Why did the people around him let him become that ghost? What were the doctors doing? And why is the media constantly harping over the bizarre aspects of his life, instead of simply celebrating his talent? Just let him be. Just let him go.

Celebrities, especially those who belong to your generation often become a measure of where you are in life. Even though I did not hum MJ's songs or follow closely, the twists and turns of his life, he was there somewhere, doing his thing in his own style. Something typical of my generation, or so I like to think. Perhaps that is why I am grieving so much.

My children have now begun to look at his videos, and listen to his songs; they think he is awesome. Something tells me he will become, posthumously, a larger-than-life icon for generations to come. Here's a link to Black or White, a video I discovered with my children. This is the only way I can say goodbye to him.

Kaale megha, kaale megha paani to barsaao...

I will not...

I will not accumulate stuff in the house.
I will not accumulate stuff in the house.
I will not accumulate stuff in the house.
I will not accumulate stuff in the house.
I will not accumulate stuff in the house.
I will not accumulate stuff in the house.
I will not accumulate stuff in the house.
I will not accumulate stuff in the house.
I will not accumulate stuff in the house.
I will not accumulate stuff in the house.

Vijay just went to give away a whole lot of stuff we did not need. And what a lot that turned out to be! I am ashamed of myself and promise that it will not happen again.

All cupboards and drawers are hereafter going to be half empty. Honest...

Nature rejoices the first rains!

It is only us human beings who are not easily satisfied about anything, constantly cribbing about the weather---if it is summer, it is too hot; when the rains come, it is too sultry.

Plants and animals, on the other hand, are not only easy to satisfy, they express their happiness in beautiful ways. I took these photos inside the Hyderabad University campus soon after the first rains. Wild flowers ask people to smile, laburnums pose against the rocks, and a strikingly coloured insect takes a leisurely stroll on the cool, damp earth. And yes, I could finally show birba buddis (red velvet mites, about which I wrote in one of my first posts), to my children!

Goodbye Habib saab

Habib Tanvir, one of India's greatest dramatists passed away on 8 June 2009. I saw his famous play Charandas Chor a long time back, and was fascinated by it. I saw it again just 3 months back, and was fortunate to see him in it for the last time.

Habib Tanvir's theatre is original, very genuine, and quintessentially Indian. I also saw another sensitive, gripping play based on the Bhopal tragedy, a few years back.

Here's a good article on the grand old man of the Indian theatre, who we will miss terribly.