Australia’s countryside offers some spectacular visions. Roads are wide, clean and with clear road signs and indications. On either side the Australian countryside whizzes past. There are gum trees, eucalyptus, brown earth, distant hillocks and a patient blue sky as you drive by. I have spent all my time in the South Eastern hub of civilization. This is a vast country and we hope to visit middle Australia sometime in September. The drive from Melbourne to Great Ocean Road by the sea coast is great. The drive from Canberra to Sydney of about three hours and the drive from Melbourne to Canberra of about eight hours are uneventful. While one could drink in the pictures of the country initially, it gets very repetitive as you progress. There is hardly a soul on roads. If you have seen the first ten kilometers, then you have seen it all. One might as well start counting the number and model year of Toyota Corollas that whiz by. My love for long drives remains. I intend to take one more long drive, from Alice Springs to Uluru. That is the heartland of outback Australia.
I drive an eighteen year old Nissan Pulsar car, which was given to me by a kindly soul who was going home in a hurry. I have always driven first-hand cars kept in spanking good condition. I am skeptical about taking this old car out in the night or going on long drives. I don’t want the car to die on me. Initially I was driving it Delhi style. That is the old Punjabi might-is-right school of driving. My friends warned me that I could soon be cooling my heels in an Australian jail. So I did some serious study of Australian road rules and familiarized myself with lane driving, right of way and other such irritants of polite road behaviour. Still I can see some drivers raising their fists and muttering at me for breaking the rules. I am trying to sell the car at the earliest since the University is a parking disaster zone. I would be better off travelling in public transport.
But I miss the road journeys back home. India is a great place for long drives. The roads are pot holed. The weather is often oppressive and keeps changing from bright sunshine to intermittent rains. There are check-posts, processions and hartals to break your stride. Road works, toll booths, accidents, stray dogs & stumbling bullocks cramp your style. But the landscape offers a collage of colours, smells, languages and diversity as we drive by. From verdant greens to desolate stretches of barren earth, from winding mountain roads to breezy seaside roads… Dress patterns, languages and dialects change. Road side motels offer vastly diverse cuisines as we move from one state to another- all this in an interval of 200 kms lasting a short four hour drive. You are richer by the experience. Can’t wait till I get there. But I need to buy a car back home. I sold the last one.
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Books read : Stranger to History by Atish Taseer. The author is all of 29 years old. He is the son of Tavleen Singh. He is the product of her rash romantic interlude with Salman Taseer, (presently Governor of Punjab province in Pakistan, ex PPP member) in the eighties. It is an intense personal narrative of a boy’s quest for his roots. His rootlessness springs from being raised without a faith or a father. I found it moving. As they say, one doesn’t become a father by impregnating a woman… but by investing in your child’s days- spending time with him, playing with him etc. In cyberspace one could see that the gentleman father is not exactly a popular guy. The antics of his legitimate children frolicking in violation of puritan Islamic code is splattered all over. In the eighties he apparently advised the journalist mother not to abort his seed and then made his glorious exit.
“Who are we: Challenges to America’s national identity” by Samuel Huntington presents a controversial thesis. Huntington (of the clash of civilizations fame) says that the embrace of Anglo protestant values is the way forward for America. He talks of it as a culture no more exclusive to a people endowed with light skin. Well I am open to the idea as we can see the results here. Indians boast of a civilization 5000 years old but don’t think twice before boorish public behaviour. Australia has not very proud antecedents, but they have built a highly livable, law abiding country. Huntington has a point there but his narrative on Hispanic intrusion in America’s mainstream is controversial. His arguments have a tendency to become prophetic. We will wait and see…
Trying to read : Master of Go by Yasunari Kawabata. When we were young we would read the reviews of great literature by M Krishnan Nair. He would criticize a short story by some poor unsuspecting soul in a Malayalam weekly and then go and comparing it with Marquez, Kawabata, Yukio Mishima, Gunter Grass and other worthies. The unequal and rather contrived comparisons notwithstanding, it aroused curiosity in us about great writers during our years of innocence. I started reading Sartre, Camus and other existentialists after having read about them in his columns. Many of the great works went over my head. I never found Kawabata in bookshops. I am still looking for Snow Country which is supposed to be his classic. Shall post my impressions of “Master.. if I comprehend it and manage to finish it.
I have not been listening to much music. I always loved to hear the rich royal sound of Mridangam, a percussion instrument widely used in Carnatic music.
Naino Mein Badra Chaye by Lata Mangeshkar is an all time favourite. Also Kuch Door Hamare Saath Chalo, a Ghazal by Hariharan. These songs give me goose pimples and I hear them again and again. I have lost touch with Mehdi Hassan Ghazals of which I had been a great fan. My friends up north tell me that I haven’t enjoyed a tenth of it if I don’t know Urdu.
I have been out of touch with Malayalam songs too. But I love some old ones. Try this.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cIHFt9Skoxc
The women back then had large heaving breasts and were generously proportioned. They had thick natural eyebrows, not shaped thin. Mallu men liked them that way in the seventies. And the men? They took great pains to shape their moustaches pencil thin. And their unruly hair was tossed, shaped like a bird’s nest. Their faces had cakes of makeup and had a rather unhealthy glow. Look at them and laugh all you want… But the music? It is divine. Straight from heaven…The poetry is incredibly romantic and the voice of Yesudas uplifting.
Friday 28 August 2009
Saturday 1 August 2009
Friendly neighbours
Even sane journalists and defence analysts of India these days advocate the strategy of keeping Pakistan on the boil and tying them down to their Western frontier. Forget peace overtures with that country, they say- in peace times they are busy destabilizing us. Keep them busy fighting a war on the west of their own making. Let us get on with the business of development. I have friends here who belong to the Pakistan Civil Services. The cab driver who picked us up from the airport was a Pakistani- a post graduate from Australian National University who decided that driving cabs lets him be in control of his life- a remarkable attitude to life. They are no different from us. They speak chaste Urdu (for a South Indian like me it is basically Hindi with some additional strange sounding words) and are quite affectionate towards Indians- (it is hard to believe how much). Although I have been a keen Pakistan watcher, I hadn’t really met a Pakistani in flesh and blood until I reached Australia. They are just folks like us. One people divided in the name of fuzzy religions.
But it surprises me how much animosity exists in certain parts of Pak media towards us. Things aren’t very different with Indian media. But they reach a crescendo during brazen external interventions like Mumbai attacks, Parliament attacks and Kandahar hijack. Then they sort of die down and get busy with gory tales of rape and murder in Indian hinterland, tinsel town gossip and displays of wealth by the nouveau riche. But what explains this animosity in Pakistan? I was listening to talks by this guy called Zaid Hamid in Youtube. His theories are strange to say the least. I am told (with a wink and a nudge) that he is an “Agency’s Man”- the “Agency” being a hushed reference to the ubiquitous ISI of Pakistan. Hamid has many interesting theories- that Mumbai attack was orchestrated by Indians…even that Ajmal Kasab’s real name is (clutch your stomachs now) none other than Amar Singh. He is a Pakistani patriot who believes that Pakistan should be ready for the next Panipat war which kick-started a thousand years of rule of Hindustan by the “righteous”. He also declares that the Swat agreement is a result of disillusionment with the English justice system and if Pakistanis want instant justice; let there be Sharia. There are such many more amusing nuggets that I shall not care to recount all of them. He seems to be heard widely and is favourably commented upon by Pakistanis. If this is the Agency’s man then may his God save his Agency.
It is this elitism/ chauvinism that supposedly lost them East Pakistan - A belief that the Bengalis are not sufficiently infused with religious and martial fervour and subsequent refusal to transfer power to them in spite of Mujib winning a legitimate election. The scope for forgetting the past and moving on with development appear pretty slim right now. But a peaceful subcontinent busy working towards development of its’ impoverished populace can make a lot of difference. What divides us in the trajectory of development in post colonial era? I do not hold many strong beliefs or convictions (except for a few naïve beliefs like vodka martinis go well with crab fajitas and that Bengali women are beautiful) But I subscribe to this theory about democracy. The beauty of democracy is that it enables a generational shift of power from the elite to the underclass. Watch the shift of post-independence breed of Oxbridge intellectuals, maharajahs and landed gentry of India who dominated politics to the present lot of politicians among whom there are cowherds, tailors and school teachers. Most of India’s states are today presided over by ordinary people who spent a lifetime in politics. This imperceptible shift has occurred during our life time. We sneered at it in the beginning. Today there are a lot more seasoned politicians from the masses who are holding or have held high office. Yet one might say, don’t we still have dynasties? Yes, we do. But many dynasties are sprouting without the baggage of the past. I believe this transformation is what prevents India from breaking up or fighting too many internal wars. But dangers lurk in every corner, let me hasten to add.
This transformation could never take roots in Pakistan. With democracy interrupted by bayonets periodically, even today, the leaders of mainstream parties are from the elite. There really was no leftist movement representing the Aam admi cutting across regional affiliations. The leader of the Mohajirs (so called under-class of Indian muslim migrants) sits in UK, reluctant to face politics at home. Take a reality check. The Bhutto family, the Sharif family, the Chaudhries of Gujrat, Imran Khan… They are all riding on family wealth and connections. For a young bright Pakistani, joining the Army appears to be a more legitimate method of wielding political power eventually. Can you think of a Pakistani who rose through the ranks of the dust and grime of electoral politics?
Do you then blame the disgruntled common man for gravitating to the mullah with piety in his eyes and fire in his heart? Do you grudge him for following the preacher who leads a life of modest means and constant prayer? I suppose not. In similar circumstances, we could be also swayed by these pious worthies instead of wealthy politicians riding in Toyota Prado with gunmen for protection. Maybe two or three generations of power shifts to the underclass through democratic elections could see beginnings of change. Let us wish them that. Instead of wishing them a million wars of their own making…
But it surprises me how much animosity exists in certain parts of Pak media towards us. Things aren’t very different with Indian media. But they reach a crescendo during brazen external interventions like Mumbai attacks, Parliament attacks and Kandahar hijack. Then they sort of die down and get busy with gory tales of rape and murder in Indian hinterland, tinsel town gossip and displays of wealth by the nouveau riche. But what explains this animosity in Pakistan? I was listening to talks by this guy called Zaid Hamid in Youtube. His theories are strange to say the least. I am told (with a wink and a nudge) that he is an “Agency’s Man”- the “Agency” being a hushed reference to the ubiquitous ISI of Pakistan. Hamid has many interesting theories- that Mumbai attack was orchestrated by Indians…even that Ajmal Kasab’s real name is (clutch your stomachs now) none other than Amar Singh. He is a Pakistani patriot who believes that Pakistan should be ready for the next Panipat war which kick-started a thousand years of rule of Hindustan by the “righteous”. He also declares that the Swat agreement is a result of disillusionment with the English justice system and if Pakistanis want instant justice; let there be Sharia. There are such many more amusing nuggets that I shall not care to recount all of them. He seems to be heard widely and is favourably commented upon by Pakistanis. If this is the Agency’s man then may his God save his Agency.
It is this elitism/ chauvinism that supposedly lost them East Pakistan - A belief that the Bengalis are not sufficiently infused with religious and martial fervour and subsequent refusal to transfer power to them in spite of Mujib winning a legitimate election. The scope for forgetting the past and moving on with development appear pretty slim right now. But a peaceful subcontinent busy working towards development of its’ impoverished populace can make a lot of difference. What divides us in the trajectory of development in post colonial era? I do not hold many strong beliefs or convictions (except for a few naïve beliefs like vodka martinis go well with crab fajitas and that Bengali women are beautiful) But I subscribe to this theory about democracy. The beauty of democracy is that it enables a generational shift of power from the elite to the underclass. Watch the shift of post-independence breed of Oxbridge intellectuals, maharajahs and landed gentry of India who dominated politics to the present lot of politicians among whom there are cowherds, tailors and school teachers. Most of India’s states are today presided over by ordinary people who spent a lifetime in politics. This imperceptible shift has occurred during our life time. We sneered at it in the beginning. Today there are a lot more seasoned politicians from the masses who are holding or have held high office. Yet one might say, don’t we still have dynasties? Yes, we do. But many dynasties are sprouting without the baggage of the past. I believe this transformation is what prevents India from breaking up or fighting too many internal wars. But dangers lurk in every corner, let me hasten to add.
This transformation could never take roots in Pakistan. With democracy interrupted by bayonets periodically, even today, the leaders of mainstream parties are from the elite. There really was no leftist movement representing the Aam admi cutting across regional affiliations. The leader of the Mohajirs (so called under-class of Indian muslim migrants) sits in UK, reluctant to face politics at home. Take a reality check. The Bhutto family, the Sharif family, the Chaudhries of Gujrat, Imran Khan… They are all riding on family wealth and connections. For a young bright Pakistani, joining the Army appears to be a more legitimate method of wielding political power eventually. Can you think of a Pakistani who rose through the ranks of the dust and grime of electoral politics?
Do you then blame the disgruntled common man for gravitating to the mullah with piety in his eyes and fire in his heart? Do you grudge him for following the preacher who leads a life of modest means and constant prayer? I suppose not. In similar circumstances, we could be also swayed by these pious worthies instead of wealthy politicians riding in Toyota Prado with gunmen for protection. Maybe two or three generations of power shifts to the underclass through democratic elections could see beginnings of change. Let us wish them that. Instead of wishing them a million wars of their own making…
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