November
2008 was a memorable time. The Delhi winter hadn’t set in. I was
getting ready to take a leap into the unknown- preparing for a year long
sabbatical to Australia with family. My job got a bit boring and I lost
faith in the policy making architecture of Indian bureaucracy.
Meanwhile, a coloured gentleman ran for the office of President of the
USA and won. My eyes were moist when I heard his powerful acceptance
speech. My joy was tempered with realism. Deep inside, I knew that this
change, widely celebrated as a historic moment, was largely symbolic.
For the rest of the world, the man at the top of the most powerful
nation in the world, made little difference. This time around it made
little difference to even Americans. The issues were largely symbolic.
Like who constitutes America.
When I watched the two gentlemen slugging it out at a debate, I soon
realized what a carefully choreographed event the US Presidential
election is. Much like a ballet, a fight sequence in a Jackie Chan movie
or mass gyration of pelvic muscles in a Bollywood movie. You soon
realize that you suffer from fatigue of word play. Then you start
paying attention to their shoes, the cut of their suits, colour of the
ties. There is very little to distinguish between them. The accents are
same, the vocabulary employed is same. There are references to private
affairs- Anne, Michelle, kids and pet dogs figure a lot in their
respective speeches.
Back to Indian television. Everyday brings a new surprise. Women
ought not be given mobile phones, said the smug Haryana politician. 71
Lakh rupees too small an amount for a Central Minister to be accused of
stealing said a candid but politically incorrect colleague Minister.
(well... he soon ceased to be a Minister too) One year old newspaper
stories were rehashed as fresh corruption allegations by activists-
nobody did their research. Petty corruption is OK said a State Minister,
and there was locker room humour alluding to prices for
girlfriends/wives. Rural women don’t make the grade in the looks
department and hence stand no chance of winning elections, said an
ex-Chief Minister. (I beg to differ). Our politics offer spicy
entertainment. Meanwhile life went on. Floods and cyclones came and
went. Some Ministers went, some others came in. But there is never a
dull moment. While the US politics is full of Media specialists, image
consultants, research analysts and campaign managers, Indians were
content with electoral arithmetic largely defined by regional satraps,
caste leaders and vote banks. The leaders come in all shapes and sizes.
Our politics is so much more fun. And in case you forget, we had
universal adult franchise even before US implemented it.
***************
Why
do I buy hardbound books 600 pages long paying a fortune when I can buy
a paperback few months down the line or even download the Kindle
edition free? Salman Rushdie is not everyone’s favourite writer. His
biting satire and lofty airs don’t help his image. His memoir Joseph
Anton was a very interesting read. As I waded through the book, Rushdie
almost appeared human, especially when his relationship with his
children Zafar and Milan are dealt with. The book is about his fatwa
years when he went under the protection of Scotland yard. A time when
many world governments were not willing to have him set foot in their
country, despite professing liberal democratic values. His ex-
girlfriends/ wives do not look good, especially Marianne. But then let’s
give the writer his due. Rushdie displays his skill at dark biting
satire. This is really a worthy read.
I
read Patriots and Partisans by Ramachandra Guha. Although the title is
misleading, Guha is an engaging writer. He has an easy style. He often
repeats himself or emphasizes things which we might consider of little
significance. As he says, he represents the liberal, moderate viewpoint
and presents it with intensity. But he represents an important
constituency....of people who are neither in the throes of communal
politics nor in the grip of the dogmatic left. Is he a congress stooge?
Not really. A great admirer of Nehru, he rues the state of the congress
which has, in his words, become a family firm.
This blog has become so infrequent that I have forgotten a book that
made an impact on me. The Ruins of the Empire by Pankaj Mishra is an
interesting new book on historical figures who shaped our thinking from
pre-colonial past. And the bundle of unread books near my bedside grows
bigger. I have Perry Anderson’s Indian ideology, autobiographies of
Andre Beteille and Bob Dylan (The latter presented by a dear old friend
on my birthday) and several other books in English and Malayalam. I
promise myself not to buy any more books until I finish reading what I
have already got. I then go ahead and cheerfully break my resolve while
browsing through flipkart.
*************
It is the music season in Chennai. The sounds of tampuras, Mridangam
and violin rend the air. Listening to Carnatic music can be addictive. I
went for concerts of Sudha Raghunathan and Sanjay Subramanyan. Getting
away from Office can be difficult. I work in the other side of the city
and all the action is in the heart of the city- it takes me an hour and a
half to get there. The audience are typically on the wrong side of 60s.
If you thought Classical music as metered, structured and complex, then
Carnatic music can spring a few surprises. There is a lot of
spontaneity during the Kutcheri session, that is rare in, say, Western
Classical music. This blogger is still in the early stages of the
Carnatic music appreciation learning curve. I can barely identify a
dozen ragas. And the sound of the Mridangam truly gives me goose
pimples. I could listen to it all day.
