0
It's been quite a while since I last posted anything here. We can blame it on my oh-so-(non existent)-busy schedule. But then, since a bit of honest goes a long way (I hope it does), let my ever present procrastination be blamed. Having covered that part, let's move on.
It is a new year, so a happy very very belated new year. It might be 2012, but my mental calendar is still set at 2011. 2011 was a very very important year to me. Moved out of my nest, made new friends, re-discovered old ones in new lights, learnt that sometimes letting go is the only way and that sometimes, letting go is less important and more impossible. The timing of this post is very funny too, I'm ending my almost-year-long stay in Guwahati in literally a couple of days. Guwahati is a nice place to be in and has given me a lot of memories. Some of them'll last a lifetime.
Coming from a smalltown in a remote region of the country, live concerts've not been the most frequent presence in my life. The only one I remember attending before coming to Guwahati was a concert by Jal a few years back, where they sang their version of Vital Signs' cult anthem 'Dil Dil Pakistan', making it 'Dil Dil Pakistan, Jaan Jaan Hindustan' before it caused too much controversy in Pakistan and became too life threatening for them to sing anymore. Many more came, but none that I was interested in awfully. So the second live concert that I ever attended was Anoushka Shankar's at IIT Guwahati's 4 day long fest, Alcheringa. And to say that it was amazing'd be an understatement. I was always interested in World Music, but experiencing it live was another thing altogether! The lady singing with her in Spanish was so amazing, so were the accompanists with their instruments. An amazing night, it'd be remembered as. The evening after the next, a battle of bands happened and the sheer awesomeness of the bands from all over the country playing there was too much to describe that I'd let it pass. A friend almost lost his head head-banging. Another highlight'd be open partaking of...ah, *cough* grassweedtreeleavesseeds *cough* something on the institute campus, but that's for later.
The Quaff Theatre Group
On the evening of the last day, Quaff theatre group staged their awesome play-within-play play, 'The Real Inspector Hound' based on the play by multiple Tony and Oscar winning playwright, Tom Stoppard.
It was there I had my first 'oww-mai-Gawd-that's-a-Bollywood-isstar' moment, unless you think watching Mukesh Khanna blackmail kids to blackmail their parents to vote for Congress'd qualify for that, but then he was just Shaktiman and the coolest velvet wearing superhero ever. Like my previous long sentence may infer, I was very excited by it (poor my small-town self) and I should be, that was one of my most favourite actresses, Kalki Koechlin. The guy who played game addict Zubin Shroff in Shaitan, the ex Channel V VJ, Neil Bhoopalam was in the play too. I'm no high-brow theatre reviewer, unlike 2 of the characters in the play, so let it suffice that it was a riot, in a good short of way. The auditorium was full, which was a suprise considering what someone said, Art is not for the masses and all that. But that could also be accredited to the sultry Kalki Koechlin and her multiple onstage kisses. It was also around this time that I learnt the valuable life lesson of watching where you're seating but we won't be elaborating on that because of some painful memories of the blogger related to that. :|
Orphaned Land at Alcheringa. Hail my mobile phone camera.
Moving on, the closing act of the fest was Israel's top progressive-rock band, Orphaned Land. Steven Wilson is their producer, so obviously they had to be great. Which they were. Just that I found Anoushka Shankar far more entertaining and given a choice, I'd choose to watch her play again instead. But nonetheless, they rocked. I think I was going there with Porcupine Tree in my head and so boo to my unrealistically high expectations. The one track that I loved the most, pardon my not knowing the name, began with a traditional middle eastern stringed instrument. It was exotic and it was metal. Go youtube now!
The other thing that passed recently, well almost recently, was Republic Day. Now, in the calendar of an average patriotic Indian, it figures directly after Indo-Pak cricket matches, 'Lagaan' reruns on the TV and Independence Day in necessarily that order. Which was odd here in Guwahati because THE CITY WAS DEAD. We in the Southern Assam always used to hear about how on every Independence Day and Republic Day, all those myriad insurgent groups having all the abbreviated names in the world ban the said days in Northern Assam, especially Guwahati but to experience it first hand was strange. Partly because Independence/Republic Day have been permanently etched on my head with garish dances numbers on those same 5 or 6 'patriotic' songs (Rang De Basanti, Vande Mataram, Des Rangila et al) and people going about the town shouting out their love for the motherland and generally irritating my eardrums. This time, the roads were empeetee. And not because the people of Assam want secession from the Union of India and all that shit ULFA'd like you to believe. It'd because people fear being blown up by bombs by brother ULFA, even though the last bombing happened years back and ULFA is presently dying the slow death it deserves. The people of Assam, along with most of other Northeastern Indians, would very much like to belong to India only, thank you. I guess the psychological scars'd take years to heal. By night though everything was fine and people were again being their dress-like-a-catalogue-model self that most people here're and going for the late night show of 'Agneepath' (which was awesome in the 70s revenge movie way I must say, with two exclamatory marks!!).
Apart from that, nothing remotely exciting happened. At the time of typing this, the blogger'd just come back from the cheap 50 bucks morning show of 'Ek Main Aur Ek Tu' in the multiplex nearby. Detailed criticism and appreciation may follow later, but let it be a review enough for now that it's not a copy of 'What Happens In Vegas' AT ALL and I'd suggest you to watch this in the cinemas only if 1) You've a cheap Rs. 50/100 show option or 2) You're looking forward to spending some mushy quality time with your boy/girlfriend on the Valentine's Eve. The ending is not of a typical rom-com's, thank God for that, and at times it reminded me of '500 Days Of Summer', though not half as good. Not a bad movie at all. I'm just bummed that 'The Woman In Black' didn't release here. Very bummed. Also the fact that within a few days, there'd be no multiplex in the 300 kms radius around me is also positively daunting. This blogpost is already longer than necessary, so I'd take my bummed and daunting thoughts offline, while leaving you with the happiest-sounding song on my playlist. Hopefully the next post'd be soon. And then, I'd've long since left Guwahati.
The Passenger - Iggy Pop
PS: I know my small town hometown sounds like it's the monastary in Tawang on a mountain with tropical jungles around it, but it's not so bad really.
PS2: <3 you, Silchar, despite your short comings. I guess, that's true luuuuve.
It is a new year, so a happy very very belated new year. It might be 2012, but my mental calendar is still set at 2011. 2011 was a very very important year to me. Moved out of my nest, made new friends, re-discovered old ones in new lights, learnt that sometimes letting go is the only way and that sometimes, letting go is less important and more impossible. The timing of this post is very funny too, I'm ending my almost-year-long stay in Guwahati in literally a couple of days. Guwahati is a nice place to be in and has given me a lot of memories. Some of them'll last a lifetime.
Coming from a smalltown in a remote region of the country, live concerts've not been the most frequent presence in my life. The only one I remember attending before coming to Guwahati was a concert by Jal a few years back, where they sang their version of Vital Signs' cult anthem 'Dil Dil Pakistan', making it 'Dil Dil Pakistan, Jaan Jaan Hindustan' before it caused too much controversy in Pakistan and became too life threatening for them to sing anymore. Many more came, but none that I was interested in awfully. So the second live concert that I ever attended was Anoushka Shankar's at IIT Guwahati's 4 day long fest, Alcheringa. And to say that it was amazing'd be an understatement. I was always interested in World Music, but experiencing it live was another thing altogether! The lady singing with her in Spanish was so amazing, so were the accompanists with their instruments. An amazing night, it'd be remembered as. The evening after the next, a battle of bands happened and the sheer awesomeness of the bands from all over the country playing there was too much to describe that I'd let it pass. A friend almost lost his head head-banging. Another highlight'd be open partaking of...ah, *cough* grassweedtreeleavesseeds *cough* something on the institute campus, but that's for later.
On the evening of the last day, Quaff theatre group staged their awesome play-within-play play, 'The Real Inspector Hound' based on the play by multiple Tony and Oscar winning playwright, Tom Stoppard.
It was there I had my first 'oww-mai-Gawd-that's-a-Bollywood-isstar' moment, unless you think watching Mukesh Khanna blackmail kids to blackmail their parents to vote for Congress'd qualify for that, but then he was just Shaktiman and the coolest velvet wearing superhero ever. Like my previous long sentence may infer, I was very excited by it (poor my small-town self) and I should be, that was one of my most favourite actresses, Kalki Koechlin. The guy who played game addict Zubin Shroff in Shaitan, the ex Channel V VJ, Neil Bhoopalam was in the play too. I'm no high-brow theatre reviewer, unlike 2 of the characters in the play, so let it suffice that it was a riot, in a good short of way. The auditorium was full, which was a suprise considering what someone said, Art is not for the masses and all that. But that could also be accredited to the sultry Kalki Koechlin and her multiple onstage kisses. It was also around this time that I learnt the valuable life lesson of watching where you're seating but we won't be elaborating on that because of some painful memories of the blogger related to that. :|
Moving on, the closing act of the fest was Israel's top progressive-rock band, Orphaned Land. Steven Wilson is their producer, so obviously they had to be great. Which they were. Just that I found Anoushka Shankar far more entertaining and given a choice, I'd choose to watch her play again instead. But nonetheless, they rocked. I think I was going there with Porcupine Tree in my head and so boo to my unrealistically high expectations. The one track that I loved the most, pardon my not knowing the name, began with a traditional middle eastern stringed instrument. It was exotic and it was metal. Go youtube now!
The other thing that passed recently, well almost recently, was Republic Day. Now, in the calendar of an average patriotic Indian, it figures directly after Indo-Pak cricket matches, 'Lagaan' reruns on the TV and Independence Day in necessarily that order. Which was odd here in Guwahati because THE CITY WAS DEAD. We in the Southern Assam always used to hear about how on every Independence Day and Republic Day, all those myriad insurgent groups having all the abbreviated names in the world ban the said days in Northern Assam, especially Guwahati but to experience it first hand was strange. Partly because Independence/Republic Day have been permanently etched on my head with garish dances numbers on those same 5 or 6 'patriotic' songs (Rang De Basanti, Vande Mataram, Des Rangila et al) and people going about the town shouting out their love for the motherland and generally irritating my eardrums. This time, the roads were empeetee. And not because the people of Assam want secession from the Union of India and all that shit ULFA'd like you to believe. It'd because people fear being blown up by bombs by brother ULFA, even though the last bombing happened years back and ULFA is presently dying the slow death it deserves. The people of Assam, along with most of other Northeastern Indians, would very much like to belong to India only, thank you. I guess the psychological scars'd take years to heal. By night though everything was fine and people were again being their dress-like-a-catalogue-model self that most people here're and going for the late night show of 'Agneepath' (which was awesome in the 70s revenge movie way I must say, with two exclamatory marks!!).
Apart from that, nothing remotely exciting happened. At the time of typing this, the blogger'd just come back from the cheap 50 bucks morning show of 'Ek Main Aur Ek Tu' in the multiplex nearby. Detailed criticism and appreciation may follow later, but let it be a review enough for now that it's not a copy of 'What Happens In Vegas' AT ALL and I'd suggest you to watch this in the cinemas only if 1) You've a cheap Rs. 50/100 show option or 2) You're looking forward to spending some mushy quality time with your boy/girlfriend on the Valentine's Eve. The ending is not of a typical rom-com's, thank God for that, and at times it reminded me of '500 Days Of Summer', though not half as good. Not a bad movie at all. I'm just bummed that 'The Woman In Black' didn't release here. Very bummed. Also the fact that within a few days, there'd be no multiplex in the 300 kms radius around me is also positively daunting. This blogpost is already longer than necessary, so I'd take my bummed and daunting thoughts offline, while leaving you with the happiest-sounding song on my playlist. Hopefully the next post'd be soon. And then, I'd've long since left Guwahati.
The Passenger - Iggy Pop
PS: I know my small town hometown sounds like it's the monastary in Tawang on a mountain with tropical jungles around it, but it's not so bad really.
PS2: <3 you, Silchar, despite your short comings. I guess, that's true luuuuve.
0
The bus jerks and my eyes open in a flash. Before me lay a wide expanse of unspoilt natural beauty. Now, 'unspoilt natural beauty' is the to go description of any and every natural landscape bereft of a mobile phone tower, but the scene that lies before me, stationary while I'm moving with the bus, is that rare sight of gorgeousness that never fails to take your breath away. And in the region that I'm passing through while I travel to my sleepy small town hometown, such rare sights're not that rare after all.
If you've to travel by road from the state capital of Assam, Guwahati, in its norther part to the southern part of the same state, where my hometown figures, you've to pass several hours in transist in a whole different state altogether; Meghalaya. And though Assam and Meghalaya're neighbours, Assam being the only fellow Indian state touching its borders, the topography couldn't be more different. There's a marked departure from the plain and then semi-plain areas of Assam to the more hilly and colder areas of Meghalaya and then again you feel the surrounding landscape change as you again leave Meghalaya behind and enter southern Assam.
By now, I'm already half asleep again, the pills I took for my travel sickness (clarification: yours truely *had* road travel sickness as a child and continues the medication only as a habit, okay, only as a precaution :|) before the journey has strong effects, aided along by the soothing music that is the whole 'The Suburbs' album by Arcade Fire and the rolling 'unspoilt natural beauty' outside my plastic window.
Umiam Lake, photo taken from here
The Guwahati-Shillong route is one of the most beautiful routes ever. The sheer pureness and rawness of the countryside on view is a good introduction to Northeastern wilderness on offer in the rest of the region. The good roads help too.
The bus takes a particularly Physical-Laws-breaking turn and my wakefullness returns again. And this time, it is the famed Umiam Lake, also known as the Barapani Lake, outside. Now, everyone who knows will tell you how the lake is the perfect welcome to Shillong and how it is truely a sight to behold, but you don't really get it till you experience it for yourself. Imagine a wide expanse of silvery, or emerald depending upon the time you visit it, water surrounded by forests of pine and fir on all sides, revealing itself as the mist of clouds unveils its layers. And as you continue staring at the scene, you suddenly notice that you're crossing the dam and there's a 1000 meters (probably) deep gauge a few inches from the wheels of the bus and all your mind registers is the untamedness of everything.
The pleasantness of the drive continues as you cross that charmer of a town; Shillong, as you travel through the state, the hill ranges named after the different tribes, its million waterfalls, churches, graveyards, quaint little village-towns. The wise one'd stop his descriptions now and put a flowery end here. But since we've screwed wisdom long back with a burning sickle, we'd rather go on.
Somewhere between Shillong and Silchar
The bus takes a particularly Physical-Laws-breaking turn and my wakefullness returns again. And this time, it is the famed Umiam Lake, also known as the Barapani Lake, outside. Now, everyone who knows will tell you how the lake is the perfect welcome to Shillong and how it is truely a sight to behold, but you don't really get it till you experience it for yourself. Imagine a wide expanse of silvery, or emerald depending upon the time you visit it, water surrounded by forests of pine and fir on all sides, revealing itself as the mist of clouds unveils its layers. And as you continue staring at the scene, you suddenly notice that you're crossing the dam and there's a 1000 meters (probably) deep gauge a few inches from the wheels of the bus and all your mind registers is the untamedness of everything.
The pleasantness of the drive continues as you cross that charmer of a town; Shillong, as you travel through the state, the hill ranges named after the different tribes, its million waterfalls, churches, graveyards, quaint little village-towns. The wise one'd stop his descriptions now and put a flowery end here. But since we've screwed wisdom long back with a burning sickle, we'd rather go on.
Now I'm passing through a jungle and the leaves on the trees shading the road're hanging down with the weight of the dust. And you ask how so? Well, whether it was some decades or some months back that the forementioned road was last a hard solid road , it can't really be said. There're holes bigger than the whole of the bus throughout the road and at times, the road positively disappears. This state of the road starts appearing sometime after you cross the Jaintia Hills(hence, the last touristy tourist spot in the state) and continues deep into Assam. The road may become a road again at times, but halt your optimism, comrade, that is the rainforest version of a mirage.
If you reach your destination at a humane hour after facing the numerous jams (yes, on a highway) and the non-existent road, then congratulations and celebrations! You're a survivor! When the world ends and the brave ascent to Valhalla, there'd a whole contingent of people who had travelled Shillong to Silchar (yes, that's the hometown) atleast once in their lifetimes. And so, the moral of the story in 2 words for the naive, if ever the wind brings you this way: AIR TRAVEL.
1
I was never one for 'inspirational quotes' and stuff, but this one really rang some mental bells inside my head.
And the following people, I guess everyone knows about.
PS: Notice the Black & Whiteness of everything.
0
I wrote this one for the magazine.
***
Beware men. The next time you step forward to protect your women friends from getting sexually molested, be ready to be stabbed repeatedly, all under full public eye. And women, you were never safe to begin with. Just that the few good men ready to lose a few teeth and bones to save you may well lose their lives next time. That’s what happened with Keenan Santos and Reuben Fernandez and which could happen to others too. While the gathered crowd stared in sick pleasure, they were stabbed with choppers after being beaten with sticks by 20 men, all for trying to protect their friends from getting ‘eve-teased’.
Eve-teased. Such a charming word carrying with it images of bold dandy roadside Romeos loudly complimenting every girl passing them. No? No. What happens is that a creepy guy in the bus pinches you and all that you can do is glare at him with teary eyes and not complain. Why’d you complain too? You were just ‘eve-teased’. Chalta hain. And even if someone came to your defense, the irony’d be that it’d be your protector who’d get lynched. And justly so. Eves’re supposed to be pinched by every Adam in the world. No one should and can change that. And that’s what Reuben and Keenan learnt that night. The crowd watching them already knew that lesson. Why else’d they not come forward to help the young men while their friends kept on screaming for help. You can blame the ‘Bystander Effect’ for that. But we all know the truth.
The fact that it happened in ‘The Most Safest Indian City For Women’, Bombay (excuze moi, M. Thackeray) must be a pointer to the state of the world we live in. And no Delhiwalo, you may not rejoice that at last, some dirt got on the Mumbaikars too. We all know how safe you all’re from each other. If it happened in some remote outskirts of the big city, then it could’ve been blamed on the remoteness of the place, the very immorality and imprudence of boys and girls roaming around in secluded places. Then the whole of the city in particular and the nation in general could’ve gasped in collective self righteous horror.
Only this time those immoral, Americanised youngsters were out for a simple dinner at the restaurant they’ve always frequented, in a place very public. At the end of the night, two of those youngsters ended up dead, three sexually molested (oh be done with ‘Eve-teasing’ for Eve’s sake) and two others injured.
We live in a world with no heroes. No one to guard our backs. The sky isn’t going to throw up a caped vigilante to save us anytime soon. When you don’t care whether the other guy’s girlfriend gets molested or the guy gets killed, then you can scream all that you want the time you get screwed, no one is going to give you a second look. What happened to the friends that night shows our cities and their people at their worst. And the possibility of the worst becoming the norm is positively scaring.
***
Beware men. The next time you step forward to protect your women friends from getting sexually molested, be ready to be stabbed repeatedly, all under full public eye. And women, you were never safe to begin with. Just that the few good men ready to lose a few teeth and bones to save you may well lose their lives next time. That’s what happened with Keenan Santos and Reuben Fernandez and which could happen to others too. While the gathered crowd stared in sick pleasure, they were stabbed with choppers after being beaten with sticks by 20 men, all for trying to protect their friends from getting ‘eve-teased’.
Eve-teased. Such a charming word carrying with it images of bold dandy roadside Romeos loudly complimenting every girl passing them. No? No. What happens is that a creepy guy in the bus pinches you and all that you can do is glare at him with teary eyes and not complain. Why’d you complain too? You were just ‘eve-teased’. Chalta hain. And even if someone came to your defense, the irony’d be that it’d be your protector who’d get lynched. And justly so. Eves’re supposed to be pinched by every Adam in the world. No one should and can change that. And that’s what Reuben and Keenan learnt that night. The crowd watching them already knew that lesson. Why else’d they not come forward to help the young men while their friends kept on screaming for help. You can blame the ‘Bystander Effect’ for that. But we all know the truth.
The fact that it happened in ‘The Most Safest Indian City For Women’, Bombay (excuze moi, M. Thackeray) must be a pointer to the state of the world we live in. And no Delhiwalo, you may not rejoice that at last, some dirt got on the Mumbaikars too. We all know how safe you all’re from each other. If it happened in some remote outskirts of the big city, then it could’ve been blamed on the remoteness of the place, the very immorality and imprudence of boys and girls roaming around in secluded places. Then the whole of the city in particular and the nation in general could’ve gasped in collective self righteous horror.
Only this time those immoral, Americanised youngsters were out for a simple dinner at the restaurant they’ve always frequented, in a place very public. At the end of the night, two of those youngsters ended up dead, three sexually molested (oh be done with ‘Eve-teasing’ for Eve’s sake) and two others injured.
We live in a world with no heroes. No one to guard our backs. The sky isn’t going to throw up a caped vigilante to save us anytime soon. When you don’t care whether the other guy’s girlfriend gets molested or the guy gets killed, then you can scream all that you want the time you get screwed, no one is going to give you a second look. What happened to the friends that night shows our cities and their people at their worst. And the possibility of the worst becoming the norm is positively scaring.
0
Yes, as the title says, the magazine's launched! And I'm a bit late in announcing this here. But whatever. Compiling that one issue broke my back into a million pieces. But at the end of the day, it was more than worth the pain. :)
Take a look. Or look here if you're unable to open the flash based site.
Take a look. Or look here if you're unable to open the flash based site.
