An eye for an eye

On the 11^th February, 2013, as I stepped out of the train at 12.30 pm, I received a call from someone living in a village in West Bengal. She was in a state of panic. “Mita (name changed) has just got murdered by her nephew, at 12.15!”

At first, the words did not sink in. But once on the way to my Office, I called back again and listened to the events that lead up to the murder. The nephew, just married a year ago, was living in Mita’s house with his widowed mother, when recently, the family was asked to leave the house, because, Mita wanted to sell the house. Having risen from abject poverty, Mita, had made a living for herself, which fetched her enough money to own two small houses, one in her village and the other in Pune, Maharashtra.She also had a comfortable income and had become a celebrity in her village, because of the power of her pocket. People in her family vied with each other, to be named the nominee of her wealth. I suspect, no less, this nephew may too have nursed the same greed in his heart.

On the fateful day, Mita had returned from two days away from her house in the village and was countered by her nephew, as she entered her house. A spurt of violence ensued between the two and at 12.15, that afternoon, he picked up the vegetable cutter called ‘bothi daa’ and struck her neck with it, causing her to die instantaneously. Suddenly realizing what he had done, he hid inside the house, till the rest of the neighbours broke open the door and pulling him out, beat him to death, with their bare hands. In a span of one hour, two killings had taken place; the police were called in only later.

Mita was an exceptionally bright woman. In ’73, she came to stay with us, to look after me, when I came to Bombay, to stay with my maternal aunt. We were very close to each other, quite naturally. She learned her letters while staying with us and later went to Hong Kong, and earned herself a lot of money. In her early teens, she had been married to a transvestite, who tortured her and forced her to leave himher. She later took diksha from Asaram Bapu and lived in Pune, in her own flat. In all, she spoke 5 languages, English, Hindi, Marathi, Gujarati and her native tongue, Bengali. She taught herself to read the Gita, the Hindu religious book; she read English minimally and wrote it for Banking purposes. She was an enthusiastic learner and it was a joy to teach her.

Ashis Nandy, in his chat with Moushumi Bhowmik and Sukanta Majumdar (The Hindu, Saturday, February 16, 2013, The archive of separation) says, referring to the Delhi gang-rape, “I don’t see anything as disjunctive but as part of a continuity. Murders, the gang rape, the protests, all are part of a continuity. To me those youth at the India Gate shouting for death sentence for the rapist, suggesting death by torture, there is continuity. There is violence in the air in India, even those who were protesting displayed the culture of violence.”

A few years ago, Prof Amartya Sen, called Kolkata the safest city in India, based on a study of Government generated crime report, which showed that Kolkata seemed to have the least crime. Needless to say, as we all know, most crimes against women go unreported and hence, the above statement does not hold water. Furthermore, in cases like the one cited about Mita and her nephew, which is not a case in isolation, what are we supposed to believe?

Does violence exist as an integral part of our society? Can we take the law into our hands? Does, an eye for an eye, serve a purpose, without the intervention of law enforcing agencies? After all, if the Government’s machinery is slow to act, or indecisive, then can we say that acts of violence may best be met with violence, tatastu, here now?

The dreadful news has still not sunk in. I regret that there is futility in the conversation, except for only reasoning purpose.

And for coming to terms with the fact that Mita is no more. Does it really matter how she died?

Read also:

Violence Against Women in India: Three Things to Know

http://www.cfr.org/india/violence-against-women-india-three-things-know/p29784

Mission Junoon: Sanjna Kapoor talks of her latest passion

She is what dreams are made of: beautiful looks, elegant, mysterious with a mind that has inherited the best of both worlds, where east meets west and blends perfectly, creativity flows from theatre and cinema, and a vibrant intellect pursues what only passion, perseverance, imagination, rigor and discipline can achieve. Yes, her name is Sanjna Kapoor, India’s most loved diva of the world of theatre.

Recently, her resignation as Director of the very elite and intellectual Prithvi Theatre in Mumbai, caused a flutter in the industry, but as she says, she needed to move on to do something more, to add more fuel to her already existing passion, to impact the environment in more ways and to begin her own trist with destiny, Junoon Theatre. For more than 22 years she had carried the challenge of Prithvi Theatre, started by her parents, Shashi Kapoor and Jennifer Kendal. It was both her passion and her learning grounds. When she put the sceptre down, she felt it needed other eminent people to carry the work forward, while she took the experience of Prithvi Theatre, to hoards of Indians out there that wanted and dreamed of making theatre an integral part of their daily lives, as natural as taking a walk in the park.

Contemporary theatre, which is all of 200 years, exists mainly in urban and semi-urban areas. Inaugurated on February 29, 2012, Junoon Theatre, with a core team of four, wants to break that trend. It desires to create multiple platforms of creativity by using the large network of people in the field and make theatre accessible, welcome and engaging to a wider mass of youth, children and adults across India, through workshops, Plays, interaction, discussion and going beyond that space. Like what exists in many countries abroad, Junoon Theatre hopes to increase the total theatre ‘experience’ from booking to finale, and raise it to another level, never experienced in India before. It envisages involvement of masses by building capacity, through its network, so that the experience becomes a social movement, a junoon, as it were. She dreams of an India, where theatre is woven into the very fabric of society in a manner that it becomes a way of life.

This creative unrest to affect the total experience of theatre has its root in her grandfather, the late Geoffrey Kendal, whose Shakespeareana Company brought the bard, William Shakespeare to Indian schools, who had never heard of him before. For thirty years, the extraordinary theatre personality along with his wife Laura and daughters, Filicity Kendal, and Sanjna’s own mother, Jennifer Kendal, toured the country taking Shakespeare to schools, public halls, places of maharajas and every nook and corner of the country. It can be said quite accurately, that Junoon Theatre is not only a transition as Sanjna calls it from Prithvi Theatre, but an urgent compulsion of her genealogy to spread the fire of imagination across the country, widely.  

Sanjna Kappor, the theatre and film personality is an able administrator; she may have the fire of her grandfather and the history of Indian cinema in her DNA, but she is careful, diligent, patient, slow, but sure. Her footsteps are small and gradual, and while she has big dreams for Junoon Theatre, she is careful not to go, so fast that she can trip on her own ghagra skirt. Through the India Theatre Forum, of which she is a founding member along with six others from the same field, she undertakes, legal, copyright issues, food and nutrition, insurance, Policy decisions affecting theatre personalities.  

Going out to the theatre has become as lucrative as going for a movie, because nothing comes close to a stage performance, for both audience and dramatist - so intimate, so engaging and responsive, such a fulfilling experience is live performance. As buying power of the people increases, Universities, parents, children are looking seriously at making a profession of Management in Arts and Theatre.

Finance is always a concern though. Sanjna is working on a Sustainable Economic Model, which will cater to premium pricing, and go to make the 25% reserved for the masses, possible. While there will be ongoing smaller shows and workshops in schools, and Plays, the yearly major event will bring in the best talent from across the globe and India, and tour India in true Shakespeareana Company style.

Sanjna Kapoor admits she has no life outside theatre. Perhaps she means what Sheakespeare had said  - all the world’s a stage – for there is her 10 year old son Hamir, who is the apple of his mother’s eye, presently passionately engaged with Sports cars, a far cry from his mother’s passion for theatre or his father’s passion for tigers! Her husband Valmik Thapar, is a prolific well-known writer and tiger enthusiast, with many books to his credit.

In a way, both Sanjna Kapoor and her husband are engaged with the eco-system around them, the former with the world inside, the power of imagination of the human mind to create, sustain and evolve newer ways of evolving itself, while the latter with the preservation of India’s national animal, the tiger. And their little one is on a fast track, but loves drama and must approve all stories his mother tells the world outside.

Such a cute drama queen!

The article written by Julia Dutta was first published in the January 2013 issue of Atelier  Magazine. To buy  write to: Creative Nest Media Pvt. Ltd, M-66, Punj House, Outer Circle, Connaught Place, New Delhi - 110 001 Email: info@creativenestmedia.com

 

Rule of dynasty, never mind!

Cartoon from DiNNamani Newpaper January 23, 2013

It is often cited that in many countries and of course in India, the rule of dynasty is played to the hilt. So, why is only the Nehru-Gandhi family targeted when across states of India, the rule dynasty is prevalent? The answer is of course quite simple: except for a very short spell, they seem to be leading our country ever since independence.

The Nehrus are originally Kashmiri Brahmins, but their genealogy is now a pot pouri of many caste and communities from India and abroad. Hence, there is no reason to believe that the ‘purity’ of the original genes has remained, which the others may claim, in other dynastic families in India. Yet, the striking resemblance of the dynastic rule of the Nehru-Gandhi family, urges us to believe that it is similar to the Mughal period in India.

If we believe that the young, often compared to the Amul baby, Rahul Gandhi is pitched to be a Prime Ministerial candidate in the 2014 elections. If this is the case, we must look at one factor, that has gone unnoticed so far, in Indian politics, that being, the Prime Minister of the country, from the Nehru-Gandhi lineage have mostly been undergraduates, if not Metric pass only. In many cases, there is a controversy on the matter and even the RTI (Right to Information) body fails to do justice to questions about the academic qualifications of a few in the family.

Let us look at the qualifications of the esteemed PMs of the family. Nehru had been to Cambridge but did not finally get the degree, although his father, Motilal Nehru was a Barrister who was much favoured by the British. His only daughter, Indira Gandhi, too went to Cambridge and joined the Trinity College, but was a miserable failure there and had to return empty handed, making her then, only a Metric pass. Her son, Rajiv Gandhi, studied Engineering at Cambridge, but it is doubtful whether he finally came home with a Degree. He joined the airline services and flew aircrafts until his mother’s assignation in the hands of her own bodyguards. His wife, Sonia Gandhi, who took up the sceptre after the assignation of her husband, Rajiv Gandhi, is only a High School pass, although she went through some English learning course at Cambridge where she worked both as a salesperson and coffee shop waitress, until she caught Rajiv Gandhi’s eyes and a marriage with India’s so called first family, changed her life completely. It is a known fact that when she filed in her ticket for Ameethi, which was her mother-in-law’s captive ground of procuring votes without ever doing any work there for the people, Dr Subramaniam Swamy had challenged the candidature in Court. Please read below the links that lead to the facts on this case and others as well. Her children Rahul Gandhi though contested, appears to have a M.Phil from Cambridge, breaking the dreadful precedent of his ancestors of leading a country, without any education worth speaking about. Sonia Gandhi’s daughter, Priyanka Vadra (ne Gandhi) has a Bachelor’s degree in Psychology, in which she majored. Indeed, she has shown more promise in both emotional and spiritual quotient. She is the one, who finally made peace with her past with the jailed and convicted to be hanged assassin of her father, Rajiv Gandhi, by going to meet her and forgiving her, for her acts, thereby releasing herself from the burden of anger and guilt. She follows the path of Buddhism and Vipassana as taught by S N Goenka. In fact, it is worth mentioning here that it is after she met the jailed Nalini Sriharan, Sonia Gandhi intervened to convert the death sentence to life imprisonment, for the sake of Nalini’s 5 year old daughter (Readers are encouraged to look at links below for all data above).

So, this piece does try to look at facts, as they are – educational qualification has never been the forte of the Gandhi-Nehru family, until they came to the present generation. However, starting from the generation with Sonia Gandhi, the emotional quotient has shown an upswing and if Priyanka Gandhi Vadra is to be considered as someone who might finally followed in her grandmother’s footsteps, India would have gained by spiritual quotient too in Prime Ministers in India, although her grandmother too was in the habit of keeping the company of spiritual leaders, for reasons entirely different. She liked them as crowd pullers for which she paid with her life, finally.

In the last words of the emotional speech made by Rahul Gandhi in Jaipur,(see link below) only recently, after he was selected Vice President of the Congress Party, he recounted that many people congratulated him, but his mother cried in the privacy of his room. She had indeed in her heart a burden of many memories, good and bad, attached to the role her son would play in the 2014 elections. If he passes the test, then the dynasty would go on with business as usual, although he will still fail miserably to compete with the qualifications and experience of our outgoing Prime Minister, Dr Manmohan Singh. We can only hope that he will perform better in implementation. Dr Manmohan Singh sleeps on a peaceful, guiltless pillow each night, for lack of intent to act, on many issues based on the fact that his hands are securely tied by the dictates and the orders coming from ‘The Top’. The young Rahul will have to show more mettle by way of action, even if he continues to exercise his vocal cords.

To start with, he can push hard on a subject he has kept a deathlike silence on, the horrific rape and subsequent death of Jyoti, Nirbhaya on 16^th December, 2012. He can work towards looking at the Justice Varma Report and recommendation made by him and his team and affect change in Laws ASAP. He could make the revolution he so easily talks of by putting protection of rights of women, first on his agenda for a new India.

Let us see if his discourse on positive politics has women in India, from all sections, in mind. Or is it baby blabber, goo-gooo, gaaa, gaaa et cetera.

References:

Indira Gandhi passed her Matric from Pune University and then went to Shantiniketan, West Bengal. She received her college education at Somerville College, Oxford (http://wiki.answers.com/Q/Educational_qualification_of_Indira_Gandhi)

Rajiv Gandhi studied for Engineering but left without a Degree ( http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rajiv_Gandhi#Education)

Sonia Gandhi did not study beyond High School ( http://knowsoniagandhi.blogspot.in/2009/04/educational-qualification-of-sonia.html)

Rahul Gandhi M.Phil from Trinity College, Cambridge, (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rahul_Gandhi#Early_life_and_career)

Priyanka Gandhi holds BA (hons) degree in psychology and follows the Vipassana as taught by SN Goekna (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Priyanka_Vadra)

Priyanka meets Nalini Sriharan (http://articles.timesofindia.indiatimes.com/2008-04-15/india/27761825_1_nalini-sriharan-priyanka-vadra-rti-application0)

Speech by Rahul Gandhi at Jaipur: (http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/videos/news/Speech-by-Rahul-Gandhi-at-AICC-Chintan-Shivir-in-Jaipur-2013/videoshow/18111265.cms)

Up close: Another colour of the rainbow

The hurried exchange of addresses and stolen glances hid my destiny for the next sixteen years of my life - our lives.

In the first ever national three days conference held in Mumbai, 1996, in between, talking politics of love between same sex women, watching films, discussing, making new friends, I fell in love with a woman from Delhi. She was the sole reason why I left everything behind me in Mumbai, to start from scratch in Delhi.

Yet, it was not a fairy tale story right from the start.

Our letter crossed and in each, in indelible ink was written the same story in five words – I am attracted to you. Then onwards, our love was a journey fraught with difficulties, doubts and deliberations, in spite of over powering love for each other. At the end, having held the torch for over three years, in November, 1999, we met finally in Delhi. The physical sparks went off immediately and we were on the carpet, making love before the welcome lunch had time to settle in my stomach! After fifteen days of bliss, I went back to Mumbai, knowing I had to return, to the first major love with a woman in my life.

It’s now thirteen years that we have been together. There is no contract between us, no written or spoken document that says that we are in a committed relationship. I prefer, therefore, to acknowledge our same sex relationship as companionship; we are sakhis. We do have many things in common and lots where we are differ from each other.

A same sex relationship is different from a heterosexual one.

First things first, the sex is fantastic as long as the 18-months major invasion of hormones in your body is there and then you have to work at it. This is common to both. And sexual intimacy is not about penetration, but being there for each other, sharing, touching, loving, kissing, fondling and of course, the big ‘O’ which in the case of heterosexual sexual contact may just be one sided, or result in women faking it and men asking that dreadful question: how was it? However, I am told by some that many ‘hets’ do make it, to the orgasmic oneness, not one after another, but together. I must confess, I haven’t been able to match the ‘het’ claim to cosmic contractions, together in my same sex relationship. Nor have sexual encounters given rise to pregnancy, thank god!

In our relationship, the political power lies with Tamil Nadu, but if you ask her, she will say, that all Bengali Didis are dominating and hold the feudal sceptre as if they were born holding one. But I ascertain power politics in a relationship by the cuisine that dominates the kitchen. Ours is kapi in the morning, followed by sambhar, rasam, paparam.

Naturally we fight a lot! We suffer spouse deafness, malicious gossip sessions with our friends and family. It’s in fact just as ‘het’ as it can get! However,  the big difference is, there are no laws in the land that can save a drowning same sex partnership/relationship, and very little family intervention to save it too, in most cases. Thankfully, gender driven roles, don’t plague our partnership – cross dressing, emotionally and otherwise is highly appreciated.


Our relationship is governed by never sleeping on an augmentative pillow, talking things through, if possible, and if we don’t sound like all the utensils in the kitchen falling on the floor with a loud clatter, which is increasingly becoming a trend, by the way! No wonder then, we have taken recourse to yet another strategy, that being, maintaining silence on the subject of argument and making as many spiritual trips together.

For me, all relationships are part of a self actualisation process. We are constantly changing. In thirteen years, our needs have changed, our priorities keep changing. We have some commonalities which are timeless, but change is permanent and finally, even if we are like our bel tree rooted in one place and branching out in different directions, or do take our togetherness to another level, we will still say, we are sakhis, emotionally, physically and spiritually.


Julia Dutta is author of this piece and author of Until death do us part and other books available on Kindle version from Amazon.com

The article was first published in December 2012 issue of Atelier Diva

To buy write to: Creative Nest Media Pvt. Ltd, M-66, Punj House, Outer Circle, 

Connaught Place, New Delhi - 110 001 Email: info@creativenestmedia.com

Why is India unsafe for tourists?

People are streaming in. The Kumbh mela is just around the corner. Delhi is still burning with the question of what will it do to the six rapists. Opinions are divided – should we hang them? Or should we find some other way to punish them? Should we use chemical castration? Time is passing by speedily.  India stands still, in the midst of a severe cold wave sweeping over north India and other parts of the country. This wind is chilling metaphorically too; it has frozen the hearts of many across the globe. Yes, the capitol of the country can ill afford to show its face to the world and it needs to now hang its head in shame.

75 million people visit China yearly; only 5 million visit India during the winter seasons from other countries. Incredible India, the Government’s Travel wing, travels abroad yearly and sells India as a destination for travel, what with the beach, the mountains, the spiritual/mystical side of India, marketable to the gullible and the ill informed, as of now.

Why not? Only on the 31^st night, traveling on Tamilnad Express from Chennai to New Delhi, a Canadian woman, sleeping on the top berth, on the side, was woken up with a rude shock. A man, drunk inside the train, where neither alcohol nor smoking is allowed, had grabbed her private part and was rubbing her, as she slept. She woke up with a start and yelled STOP IT, where upon he disappeared into the toilet or some such place. Passengers and her Canadian companions asked the ticket collector to act; bring in the complaint book, but he refused to do either, asking them to go back to their berths!

This is not unnatural in India. The country touted to be spiritual is hardly one. It might be religious and bigoted, it is certainly not spiritual. Tens of thousands of people will descend on the Kumbh Mela in Allahabad, which is now a multi-dollar Event and think they are coming to a country known for its spirituality.

Indeed, India is a palace of illusions! One can be deluded and lose one’s way here, forever!

Renowned writer and poet Abha Iyengar, states in her Facebook profile: “I remember many years ago when I visited Germany and experienced the freedom of being able to lie on the grass, a young woman alone with herself and nature and of course, other scattered foreigners also embracing the sun's winter warmth, how free and delightful it felt. The point is, I was alone and a woman and young and a foreigner and I could lie in the sun on the grass without being stared at or accosted. As a woman in India I have never experienced this freedom. I think even now were I to lie alone on the grass in Lodhi gardens with a book , minding my own business, I would be stared at or accosted. I know I would not be comfortable. When will we women in India have this freedom to just be?”

The answer is never! Unless you wish to take things in your hands!

If you are visiting India, remember, your safety is in your hands! You may travel with your boyfriend, or a group of friends, or even catch an Indian ‘chokda’- Boy guide – while in India, but the woman’s body is not respected at all and do not be surprised if a man thinks and feels that your body is his possession without your permission. After all, he is a man! He is God! He can and will do anything to you as a woman, and you are supposed to lie low and not scream.

Chemical castration cannot make a man impotent. Even a fool knows that! Sex and power trips originate in the mind. How, is India going to castrate its century’s old habit of trying to save the linga, the penis in the head which extends like a canon between his legs? Especially, when women too have been worshiping it?

Therefore, if you are visiting India, do so at your own risk. Also, have no illusions about how long the hideous organ may be (not an orgasmic joy for sure, this one), how much it can take you for granted and how unsafe you can be in a country, better known for arm-chair thinking and lack of will to act. A million reasons may be cited for inaction, lack of implementation, thinking things over, etc., etc, even if it be over someone’s dead body! Even yours!

Take care! Ensure your own safety! Take charge!


Delhi women only cab: 91 931 384 4015

Police across India: Dial 100

Also read: Much ado about six inches stick of muscle:

http://juliadutta.blogspot.in/2012/12/much-ado-about-six-inches-stick-of.html

Follow dioscussion on Twitter.com: #AJStream, #DelhiGangRape, #RIPNirbhaya, http://stream.aljazeera.comstream.aljazeera.comstream.aljazeera.comstream.aljazeera.comstream.aljazeera.comstream.sstreamstream.aljazeera.comstream.aljazeera.comstrestreastream.aljazeera.comst

Much ado about six inches stick of muscle!

So why are we as a nation, so hung on a six inches stick of muscle?

When Reena Mehra, fresh out of college picked up a black stone polished symbolic icon called a lingum sitting on what she imagined to be a shallow tub with a drain out built in it and began to use it as an ash tray, her aunt in Delhi was horrified.  She shrieked,

“Reena! What are you doing girl? This is the holiest symbol in our lives – the Shiva Lingum!

Now, how can you blame Reena for her lack of knowledge? And how can you blame her aunt for her blind faith in anything that resembles a phallus?

Brought up on a diet of worshipping the shiva lingum, it was is not only a symbol of the “highest knowledge” which means salvation from the cycle of birth and death, it was a symbol of the union of purusha and prakrati, the feminine and the masculine energies, one an active force, the other a passive yet creative force. It is symbolic of the union of man and woman, for without this union, the world would cease to exist. It was her God. Such blasphemous acts as reported earlier on, of using a God as an ash tray, were unthinkable for her.

But Reena, poor soul, brought up in quite a different manner, could hardly feel with her aunt. She was a fruit basket she thought. Imagine using a stone for a God! In any case, what was God anyway?

The recent furor in Delhi, India,over the rape of a young girl by six men in a public bus, has caused as usual uproar of voices from different quarters. Politicians are using the incident to play up on the public mind, media is filling up its space with minute by minute report of the girl’s health and the Delhi Police chase to capture the culprits, etc etc. It is perhaps the worst time for the Delhi Police for the winter has now sat over the Delhi sky too, and while they would have had their time out with the “bottle” after collecting the “hapta”(bribe) for every other petty crime, they now have to chase the culprits, and in this they will not be paid, their hapta, or so we hope.

In all this you don’t hear a single loud resounding voice speaking on patriarchy, which is so deeply rooted in our society and cunningly woven into the fabric of our religion. The smart strategy was so well conceived that we cannot rise and rebel in the full, because we are preconditioned in one way or the other to let it pass; albeit after some hue and cry from all quarters. Up until today, India has not hung a single rapist, despite the fact, that where rapes happen almost every day, or week, and are reported, is the capital of the country.

Whether you think of Manu’s laws, or the state of Draupadi in the Mahabharata, one seems to wonder at how deep the roots of patriarchy must go, that text could be written to say that Draupadi, the wife of all the five pandava brothers, could be sold for the price of winning a game of chess by her own husband! It goes to show, that even if the Mahabharata was created by many authors over many years and lifetimes maybe, nobody seemed to object to women being always looked upon as commodities. If for five thousand years a text is read, re-read and read again, and the role of the pandavas are not questioned, if life after life, one reads about the unspeakable audacity of Rama demanding that his wife Sita, who was stolen by Ravana, prove her “purity”, which in other words means that she had not slept with him, and generation after generation is made to read such text and imbibe them at early childhood, what can you expect out of a nation full of phallic worshipers?

There is a serious problem here, in the way, we are handling our women and unless that undergoes change and is uprooted from its roots, we as women in India can never be free of abuse.

But then, who is going to bell the cat? Won’t our worship of a six inches stick of muscle come in the way?

Think while you enjoy: One Billion Rising Sri Lanka | Campaign Song (Tamil) | Rise Women, Rise Up!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GRdewaWtikg




Read more:

Nilanjana Ray like Justice Balakrishnan can’t see sense in hanging the culprits. They say it would not solve the bigger problem that rapes happen in India every day: http://www.thehindu.com/opinion/op-ed/executing-the-neighbour/article4218247.ece

How much cleavage must one show?

Hard bargaining is a way of life in India. If the cost of a product is X, then, in the buying process, the customer might start bargaining from exactly 50% of the price of the product, scaling up to 60 – 70% of the price and finally strike the final blow, by threatening to leave without buying the product if it can’t be delivered at that price. The salesman at this point agrees to the customer. He too, has marked up the price by 25% knowing that he will face a hard bargain come hell come high water.

This entire process has seen the customer and the salesman engaged with each other for a good 15 minutes, which can be said to be a waste of time.

Traditionally, the salesman arrived with his goods to the Indian home, threw it open to everyone in the family to choose from, then, it finally came to the head of the family to make the purchase. The process may have had the salesman, strike a large deal albeit having spent an enormous amount of time with the family, sometimes even sharing a meal with the purchaser. It was time invested in the family, knowing that there would be repeat sales here, over time.

In the present day scenario, when the purchaser must go to the sales outlet, it is upto the salesman to decide how much of cleavage he must show, to make the sales happen in minutes or let it pass.

The difference is between crass and class. In the case of the former, one might start on a high price and end up pulling it down sizably, thereby, showing a lot more than what was asked for. But, in the latter, one would put a price and not move from it, not allowing bargain at all. So the pricing becomes suggestive of a certain class which says politely this much and no more.

If a magazine whose only income comes from the advertisements it receives, says no to ads which are more than five in the magazine, it shows it belongs to a certain class. Readers will have more reading material than have to sieve through page upon page of advertisements, they did not pay for. This is classy. The advertiser may pay a higher price for the ad in such a magazine, but is going to be noticed and perhaps read and acted upon, than a magazine full of so many ads, that the reader thrashes all the ads, including most of the magazine.

This is the point of smart selling - less always mean more, while more is an often an underachiever in the long run.

Coming back to our point, how much cleavage must one show? Would you prefer to reveal just enough to keep the desire going, or would you reveal it all, and end the desire for more in a one-time sales, or repeat low-priced sales, is the question every salesman must ask? What is preferred - Class or crass? Can we afford to sell apples at the price of bananas?

Think while you watch:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iT44C7bNyVE

Photo credit: http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lz1ranKwTD1rp4mrmo1_500.jpg

Fuzz, fizz n finizz!

Courtesy: Google.com

Only very recently I put down a book I read with great interest called The Wave Rider, by Ajit Balakrishnan, who in the late 90s started Rediff.com when India had not really woken up to the idea of Internet. Ajit Balakrishnan drew a lot of examples from the US and Europe to show how the Age of the Information dawned riding past many others starting Iron Age, age of industrialization etc. The book did not however cover one of the fallouts of the Age of Internet.

Dear reader, a story I came across is presented here.


Title: What’s the good word in 140 characters?

“He’s coming! He’s not coming! He’s coming! He’s not coming!”

“What are you picking all those flower petals one by one for, as if you were Ophelia in Shakespear’s Hamlet?” Bharat asked.

“He’s coming! He’s not coming! He’s coming! He’s not coming!” Lakshmi continued

“Oh c’mon, who is coming?”

The dew fresh relationship between Bharat and Lakshmi had only just begun, after both found each other on Facebook. They had been on Orkut too.

Lakshmi worked at an Agency that provided content for Company websites and spent a sizable amount of time on Facebook and Twitter. After all, 140 characters did not need too much creativity to write. Or maybe it really did! But, it was easier to keep the engagement on, with a line, all the time. It bugged Bharat a lot. He had to know everything that was going on in Lakshmi’s life.

“Is he your boyfriend from Orkut?”Bharat asked rather irritated, to which she gave him a chilling cold look.

Two people who have recently fallen in love having Orkuted and Facebooked for a long time and were meeting for the first time, by a lake, would have been differently engaged with each other five years ago, but today, both met physically but continued their engagement with each other on FB. SmartPhones in hand, they stood next to each other at the lake occasionally looking up to meet each other’s eyes.

The virtual world had changed everything! People preferred to communicate via Facebook, Twitter, Orkut and other Social Networks, more than they liked to meet in person and socialize. In fact, both Bharat and Lakshmi had planned this meeting over days, trying to make it possible to meet in person, instead of virtually.

“But we are always talking to each other, on phone or on FB”, Bharat objected, but Lakshmi was keen to meet him personally. Who knows, maybe there was no Bharat at all? Maybe the virtual picture on his FB profile was not what he really looked like! There were so many questions on her mind.

But now that they met, the excitement lasted only a few moments, because, after the initial meeting, both went back to their SmartPhones and continued with their conversation by posting on their FB and Twitter accounts!

It was like the fizz in a Coke bottle. Bubbling over and fizzling out all at the same time.

“He’s coming! He’s not coming! He’s coming! He’s not coming!” Lakshmi doled out in a deadpan voice, her eyes glued to her SmartPhone.

“Ah now I know! You are talking about Salman Rushdie!”

“Nah! I don’t read at all, except messages. Do you?”

“I read some lines from his book on FB – hang on I will Share it with you by tagging you – here it is!”

Lakshmi read the first few lines and lost interest.

“It’s too long,” She whined. “140 characters are all I can read, like in Twitter.”

“Then I will write our love story on Twitter in 140 characters!”

“LoL” Lakshmi re-tweeted

“Lakshmi met Bharat @ Sujan Lake and Tweeted and FB each other. It was awesome - all Fuzz, Fizz and Finizz - Muuaah”. Bharat tweeted

A host of retweets began: From Dipti, Dilip, Sandhya, Sonu, Bunny and hoards of others, spiraling away, all over the net, when suddenly Lakshmi received a retweet from one Ms Sexy Samantha which read like this: Lakshmi met Bharat @ Sujan Lake? I will show you nicely Bharat when you come home tonight – your wife!”

Quickly Lakshmi retweeted by tagging Bharat and adding: @bharat She’s coming! She’s coming! Your wife is coming to get you!

“@lakshmi nonsense!” Tweeted Bharat, “I am single, ready to mingle! Me Samson, you Delilah”

“@bharat Awesome Dude!” Lakshmi tweeted back, “Look behind you, before you leap forward LOL”.

But, by then all hell had broken loose. Bharat turned sharply to the left as a burly woman in her mid-twenties came charging towards him, a Police baton in her hand.

“Amma!” Bharat wailed, but it was too late. In quick succession, Lakshmi lost no time to take to her heels as her mobile clicked several picture of a Bharat’s wife roughing him up. She uploaded the picture on her FB account and made a public posting with a catch line: Man gets beaten by wife who catches him on Tweeter, tweeting sweet nothings to his FB beloved.

Needless to say, that picture with message spiraled and was Shared 356 times! Aaaaw! And Oh man! ROLF, LOLzzzz, filled posts after posts on FB, the message, went viral over and over again!

It ended the virtual love between Lakshmi and Bharat, only till they made new profiles on FB, Twitter and Orkut, calling themselves, Neversaydie and Loveis4ever.

Shortly they received a Friend’s request from Kababmeinhaddi.

There are absolutely no prizes for guessing who Kabab-mein-haddi is!

-       The end

There you go, dear reader, sons and daughters of the Information Age, I believe the Internet Age may just go out like a bubble as easily as it came, in a fuzz, fizz n finizz, unless Ajit Balakrishnan has something else to say. Or like the lovebirds, the AoI evolves into another. If @ajitbalakrish is right, it will never say die!


Signed @Juliadutta


 Note: Today happens to be Ada Lovelace's 197th birthday Picture taken from Google doodles the evolution of computers

http://ibnlive.in.com/news/on-ada-lovelaces-197th-birthday-google-doodles-the-evolution-of-computers/309674-11.html

Biography of Ada Byron, Countess of Lovelace:

http://www.sdsc.edu/ScienceWomen/lovelace.html

Review: Until death do us part by Dr Madhvi Karol

 

“Untill Death do Us Part” by Julia Dutta

It is a book on a bold subject that deals with female sexuality. Unapologetic, Julia Dutta fearlessly traverses the murky waters hiding within its womb many situations that are kept under wraps for fear of social ostracizing. She writes without inhibitions exploring various relationships which are normally talked about only in hushed tones. Protagonists in most her stories push the boundaries till they break free.

A few stories deal with sexual encounters between adults and children and the coping mechanism they devise to overcome their guilt besides the usual reaction of Indian adult psyche to push every unpleasant situation under the carpet. In few stories people accept what should not be accepted, and in others the characters fight tooth and nail to be accepted socially.

The author has not minced words. Her expressions draw you straightaway into the intricacies of relationships and their eventual outcome. The book is a bold attempt to lay bare passions with impassioned clarity. The wisdom gained through years shine through in later stories, the last one dealing with meditation and vipassna.

It is a well edited book. I loved the language and flow of stories. They draw you instantly into their woven web. Do read it.

 

 

To buy the book: http://www.amazon.com/Until-Death-Do-Part-ebook/dp/B009X1DKYU/ref=sr_1_16?ie=UTF8&qid=1351623411&sr=8-16&keywords=xynobooks

 

 

 

Please note:
The Kindle for PC reader program is a legitimate application offered by Amazon. It's OK for people to use it to download and read books offered under the KDP free promotion program.

You can download Kindle for PC by going to Google search and writing: Free Kindle download for PC. Then wait for the next free Kindle download of the book which will be announce by me, Julia Dutta

Roll of Honour by Amandeep Sandhu

Front facing: The author with his books

Clearly there are three issues that make up the 242 pages of Amandeep Sandhu’s second book, Roll of Honour.

The first is the life of Appu, the protagonist in his last year in an army school in Jassabad, Punjab. Albeit a little surprised at the level of sexual abuse that goes on among the boys at an army school, the bullying of juniors by senior boys, if one has been a boarding school product, like I have, you realise that there is one thing or the other that does plague a boarding school, especially when the lights go out and the students find their freedom to go wild. But in the light of the goings on outside the school and in Punjab at large at that point, one wonders if the violence expressed inside the school, is not compounded by the disturbance outside.

Secondly, the book is set in the year is 1984. It is a year marked for state sponsored carnage against the Sikhs by the then late Indira Gandhi’s Government. The monk turned Leader, Bhindranwale fighting for the right for a separate state, Khalisthan, for Sikhs is killed and has now has become a martyr. His movement gathers youth and old alike towards the issue of a separate state. Just at that time, Operation Blue Star happens causing a tremendous uproar in the country. The Sikhs rise in rebellion, deeply hurt at the desecration of their place of worship, The Golden Temple at Amritsar. Indira Gandhi is assassinated by her own Sikh bodyguards. All hell breaks loose. Thousands of Sikhs are killed across Punjab and Delhi, indeed the entire country, in what can only be termed as the most inhuman acts of state sponsored terrorism on the innocent.  In this background, our protagonist relates the gory incidents that take place to his friends at school and outside. Yet, his desire to leave school is not entertained by his father, who is battling to keep his son away from home, where a schizophrenic mother, could ruin his sons’ prospect of doing anything worthwhile in life, that being join the army. The dramatic sequence of events is related, the text shifting from the present to the past and back to the present.

Be that as it may, clearly, and most importantly, there is a deeper and denser meaning that emerges from the reading of this book, that being, the underlining, loud voice that literally shouts out to the reader revealing an insight into the relation between violence and sex. Freud stares out of the pages smoking a thoughtful pipe, his eye brows perched high on his forehead, a knowing smirk on his mouth, pointing facts one can’t turn one’s face away from –

(a)    Give a man freedom to have sex, he may never be violent.

(b)   Allow him to love and be loved, by whomever, without any gender bias and he may never resort to violence.

(c)    Take sex away from him, restrict it, and subvert it, the force of the suppression will well up as violence.

(d)   Both sex and violence is about power, they are two sides of the same coin.

(e)   Throughout the book, the power play of both spread their fangs on each page.

(f)     For the reader with an interest in Freudian interpretations of sex, one longs for what Sudhir Kakkar, our renowned Psychoanalyst, from Delhi would say about this book.

Is the author listening?

Publisher: Rupa Publications India Pvt. Ltd
7/16, Ansari Road, Daryagang
New Delhi  110002
Author: Amandeep Sandhu
Price: Rs 206
Pages: 242
Buy: http://www.flipkart.com/roll-honour-8129120232/write-review/ITMDCFCZHFNKT5M2?pid=9788129120236

Read more:

Operation Blue Star
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Operation_Blue_Star

About the Author
Amandeep Sandhu has been a farm hand, a shop assistant, a tuition master, a journalist with The Economic Times, and now works in the IT industry. He has also lived in various parts of the country, and currently resides in Delhi. His first book Sepia Leaves (2008) was about life under the shadow of schizophrenia.

FREE! FREE! FREE! on 7th and 8th February!

My book will be featured as part of KDP promotional days on February 7th and 8th (Thursday and Friday) US times.

DOWNLOAD FREE Until Death do us part: Click on Link for Kindle Version: http://amzn.to/ReVgEw

What is Until deathdo us part about?

Until death do us part is a collection of stories which is pitched on this conviction that, no matter what the situation is, every person has something to take away even from the worst situation. In fact, as it has proved in the past, the worst is often the springboard of success.

It does not matter what social background they are from, and what support system they have with them, most so called victims, survive and do well in their lives. Until death do us part reiterates the fact and places the power where it belongs, to the protagonist of each story, who are women, placed in India. These stories are of love, in its different colours and images, which break the cast of how we, as a society have grown or learnt to understand the meaning of love. Or NOT love. It challenges us to look at human interaction and circumstances in a different light and forces us to believe that after all, as women, we are the Directors of our lives and hence, we will in one way or the other, make the best of our past and present.

The struggle to find one’s own identity as a woman, breaking out of a mould and series of expectations, has long been a difficult one to tread. Yet, women, across the globe have done it. In India, the social pressures are far greater to conform and there are ways and means by which society and family makes it mandatory to conform. Or get cast out.

The struggle, in the subcontinent has been therefore at two levels – one, to become aware of one’s own separate identity, and two, to see the actualization of it. The process has not been less fraught with problems especially that in many cases it might have turned out to be a lone battle. Yet, for those who took up the sword to severe the old ties with age old thoughts and practices, have gone ahead, not looking back at what they have left behind. For those, who on the way, laid back to return to the security of an identity bestowed by society and family, it has been a choice. The importance lies there – choice – the will to take our destiny in our hands. Whether this way or that.

Hence, it is possible to say that the victim story is long over. No matter what the situation is, every person has something to take away at every stage, where the only constant is choice, right from birth to death.

Read about Srividya, in Until death do us part, and many others in this collection, who executed this choice every time. Also in the manner the stories are arranged, the toughest situations are gradually overcome to finally settle on One, the last story, where the wandering self finally comes home to itself.

My first book of collected short stories

Download for free today 30th and 31st October, 2012

http://www.amazon.com/Until-Death-Do-Part-ebook/dp/B009X1DKYU/ref=sr_1_16?ie=UTF8&qid=1351623411&sr=8-16&keywords=xynobooks

Sindh – Stories from a vanished homeland by Saaz Aggarwal

First things first! If you have Saaz Aggarwal’s second book, Sindh – Stories from a vanished homeland, in hand, quickly turn to page 68 and begin your study of Sindh, geographically and politically.

Sitting on the banks of the Sindu (Indus) river, the land called Sindh was rich with art, culture, poetry and trade. For generations, even from Chandragupta’s time or just before Greeks frequented India passing through these lands. Writes Saaz Aggarwal, ‘The Sindh region was home to advanced urban Indus Valley settlements, most famously Mooan jo daro…’Having passed from the Maurya Empire to Darius I, to Persia, to finally Arabs, the land had seen many changes and adopted to it all. So there is was a land with people who belonged to the world, for how is it possible not to imbibe the cultures, arts, artifacts of kingdoms and people who come into your land and make it their home?

Now you can sit back and begin to google search the sites I have listed below. The maps will take you on a very pleasant sight-seeing tour but don’t lose your way, in the lost land. Return as quickly to read the stories of so many men and women who braved the India/Pakistan divide to make India their home. It is easier said than done, because, if you see what they left behind and where they had to start their life from, you wonder, where their steely strength comes from.

Wikipedia says: Hyderabad, around which most of the stories are based, is the 2nd largest city in the Sindh province of Pakistan. It is the 6th largest city in the country. The city was founded in 1768 by Mian Ghulam Shah Kalhoro upon the ruins of a Mauryan fishing village along the bank of the Indus known as Neroon Kot. Chandragupta Maurya’s Empire spread from east to west covering substantial land across the north western region (see map below)

Given this very rich, prosperous background, from as far back as 3^rd century BCE – and maybe earlier - all was lost as India became independent.  Accustomed to a life of opulence, abundance, high education and rich trade, when partition happened, they had to leave everything behind, to seek shelter in India, as refugees. Rich and poor alike, ran from Pakistan occupied Sindh, by ship and train to arrive in India, many times, even stripped of their last belonging on their bodies, women and children raped. Not only that, the Indian government overwhelmed with the aftermath of partition did little to see to their welfare. From rich and abundant kitchens, many had to bear the extremely pathetic state of refugee camps to survive with their families. Yet, the stoic community quickly got into the act of rehabilitating themselves and starting out all over again, as petty business men. Thankfully being a business community mainly with many scholars too among them, they had scattered all over the world, in Asia, Europe, Africa and America, Japan, China and Indonesia,   much before the exodus took place. Friends and relations did whatever they could to help the families, but a major chunk came to India, spreading themselves in Gujarat, Rajasthan, Maharashtra and trickling onto other states as well, to quickly make their life again. In the absence of any money, they had to use their mind and muscle to generate livelihood for themselves and their families.

They never looked back as they busied themselves with their new life.

Saaz Aggarwal has mixed her best in this book: On the one hand, it is a carefully researched historical novel and on the other it is a novel of real life stories from many individuals and families who have lived to tell their stories.  Mixed with a generous helping of Sindhi recipes, the book is written in such a manner, that it is possible to pick and chose what you want to read. If you are a history lover, then read the historical data presented, but if you are one who yawns at the very word called history, just skip those pages and devour the real life stories told by different people from a wide range of professions and homes. And of course the best part is hidden in the kitchen – Saee bhaji, Sindhi papad, dhodho, Sindhi kadhi and all those lovely delights, your mouth will water, as you read!

Although the book is about Sindhi Hindus, I was glad, not to have come across the word brahman till I came to page 270. But there, those chaps make their presence felt to perform rituals etc. In a community such as the Sindhis, where the brahmins have no other importance, I would have been delighted if the Sindhi brahmin performed a dervish, instead!

The book is heavy in weight and thought but Saaz Aggarwal’s gift for your grandparents couldn’t have been anything else, for they too had left everything behind in Sindh to start life from scratch, in Mumbai.

Sindh - Stories from a vanished homeland, deserves a place in every home, which has known pains, struggle and survival after partition. It must rub shoulders and spine with other books written about Sindh, in libraries, schools and colleges, where we preserve partition stories written from memory of those who are alive to write or speak of it.

And last but not the least, we need to rise and give a standing ovation to a “smart, courageous and emancipated people” – (Pg 227, Putli’s story) who have made India their home.

Saaz Aggarwal is a Journalist, writer, poet and painter. 

Publisher: Black-And-White-Fountain, 2, Flemington Terrace, Clover Village, Wonowari, Pune 411 040
Author: Saag Aggarwal
Price: Rs 400
Buy copies online: www.blackandwhitefountain.com
Feedback and inquiries: blackandwhitefountain@gmail.com

Watch video
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iD8xqC8YuSc

Maps and must reads:

Map: Hyderabad, Sindh: https://maps.google.co.in/maps?hl=en

Hyderabad ( Sindh) http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hyderabad,_Sindh

The Maurya Empire: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mauryan

Sindhi Passage to India map : http://maps.google.co.in/maps?hl=en&tab=wl

Recent findings prove that Indian merchants from Tamil region have been travelling to Arab nations, even as far back as 1 CE : http://www.thehindu.com/news/national/potsherd-with-tamilbrahmi-script-found-in-oman/article4038866.ece

Another man's wife by Manjul Bajaj

“ It was an old, old tribal custom and only hearsay now. If a girl spat on a boy’s face it meant she had marked him out as hers.” p 199, Another man’s wife.

We however are not talking about that, but let’s face it, if you ever henceforth pick a book by the author Manjul Bajaj, be sure you are going to tread on grounds, that make for some absolutely wonderful stories, from the very heart of rural and urban India, which not only tell a story well. In this sense, Manjul Bajaj is marked..

In her second innings, Another man’s wife, a collection of 9 stories, Bajaj, takes the reader through a series of issues deeply rooted in our Indian society, and makes a delightful combination with the hot and hungry inner climate of her protagonists. Call it the need to explore or actions following needs of other kind, all the stories, twist and turn, and surprise the reader with a plot that is well thought out and crafted with the reader in mind.

What is the price of displacement? Why must we leave our home and hearth in the villages, to earn our living in cities, what is the cost of this displacement? What are the boundaries of love or sexual communion, what are the consequences of actions, does love last or must it be fueled by fantasy to live on, or does raw intimacy revive distanced relationships, is there a right thing to do, or all actions have their own cycle to complete, is there a continuation of life which once blown out, returns again giving even a murderer a chance for redemption? The author grapples with you by her side, with all this, through a journey of words, stories that make you sit up and think and discuss, long after you have pun the book, down.

There is no shame, no need to tame language and make it polite. The raw rugged rage of thoughts and words come straight from the belly, with no lace, no veil to cover. .

All the stories have strong protagonists, whether male or female, and all cut out a story, you least expected they would when you began to read it first. The twists and turns, the surprises and the large heartedness, all come together, so beautifully, that at the end, although as a reader one might have had a list of ifs and buts coming up, occasionally and punctuating the flow of thought, at the end, one feels that all is right in love and war. Besides, even in the worst case of being wronged, there is an inclusive end and characters are not left out there in the dark, to make sense of themselves.

The editorial work is fantastic and in the title story, the play of emotions, basic instinct, the war of bodies and of minds is a masterpiece to die for, the perfect dance of writer and editor - so exquisite the beat of the drums and the blow of the conches, one might have been a spectator of the very kurukshetra itself, only it is happening in the bedroom and your fire too is rising blow by blow, as this animal display of an instinct called sex moves, caresses, urges, pleads, attacks your senses too, with words that are noisy and restless to penetrate your body and your mind. Well done, Manjul Bajaj.

In this book, there are no lose ends and no question marks left. Bajaj has tied up the stories beautifully and in all of them, she has found her solution, bold, benevolent, without borders or boundaries. So if in her first book, Come before evening falls, she did sit on the fence at times, in this one, she has resolved her differences and cast pearls of wisdom strewn all across the book, like little nuggets, you’d love to keep forever.

I, however, will keep the best pearl of wisdom held close to my heart, a story I would like to re-read again, that one story, I truly call the ‘Meet the author, story,” – Marrying Nusrat.

 Author: Manjul Bajaj
Edited by Nandita Aggarwal
Publisher: Hachette Book Publishing India Pvt Ltd
4^th/5^th Floors, Corporate Centre
Plot no 94, Sector 44, Gurgaon, India
Price: Rs 350
Buy: In bookshops across India, Amazon.com  &  Flipkart