aditya kumar's weblog

The rain kept on pouring on the bus, in all forms. There were brief periods when the breeze had some private moments with the bus, but overall, the rain intruded most of the time. I could see the windshield and have the driver’s view on some occasions. The wipers kept working overtime.

The view on the Driver’s rear view mirror often revealed the grinning face of our driver. The smile showcasing the bright white set of teeth in the darkness. The smile that also managed to hold a lit bidi that was an important accessory with this man who had already driven us close to 300 kilometers. The same smile that probably had a few hundred stories behind it. Stories that were an important aspect of his life (and probably someone else’s life too), for they fuelled the fire in him to drive 17 hours a day.

I chose to turn my face towards the window. Droplets of water decorated the brown glass pane on my right. The city cars zoomed past, leaving behind a tail of colorful lights, owing to which, the droplets of water, for a moment or two, acquired the effect of hundred mini-rainbows.

And when not mini-rainbows, they were the stars. Small, silvery, glittering and existing within my hand’s reach. I was so much in my own little world. Isn’t that what everyone wants? Isn’t that what you want?

But then the bus stopped, and the imagery acquired a different shape. A beggar child, in the bare minimum of clothes, both hands on the window of a car. His workplace, this muddy, traffic congested road. His plea, in his eyes. His desperations, too many to count. His thoughts, he could not afford.

His hands on the window’s glass were taken to be intrusions into another world. His gestures were met with hatred. On an open window, the glass made way up, securing the world of someone inside. Nothing, but a pure matter of convenience.

If I could make eye contact with the child, all I had to offer was another pair of cold eyes.

The difference between his world and mine? A Glass Pane.

Then I noticed, it was only the breeze now — the rain had gone and so were the droplets. My world looked so bleak without those stars.

My little world now ceased to exist.

PS: Thank you, Mr.Nair, for your suggestions on this.

1200 Hours- Just off Mangalore, from the Mangalore – Mumbai Matsyaganda Express, Konkan Route

It was 7 in the morning when I reached Mangalore. The dawn reminded me, much to my disappointment, of Bangalore, the city I had boarded the bus from. The same grey sky, some drizzle and mist in the air. The plan had been to spend the day at Mangalore before going to Udupi by late evening and catching the train to Goa, my home, the following morning. But a first look at the sky and immediately I knew — my plan had backfired. What I hoped to leave behind, I had not. Gloomy morning was very uninviting and the sea, it was far away.

But hope remained. Something in me wanted to stay as per the original plan. And why not, I had waited for this trip quite a long time and had been looking forward to it. I managed to reach the nearest bus stop and asked for the bus to Ullal beach. Number 44, they said. I waited. Bus 43 came and Bus 45 went by. No luck. By that time the drizzle had transformed itself into pouring rain. Ah, I saw Bus 44 coming. It zoomed by me even though I had gestured for the driver to stop it. He gestured me to go away. Just go away. I think he even said that in Kannada.

The rain did not stop. I went back to the railway station, my base camp. Got myself a platform ticket. I prefer to eat at the railway canteen when I am alone in unknown cities. First, I can eat lavishly without thinking too much about the pocket. The food is never bad. Secondly and more importantly, I make it a point to strike up a conversation with someone from the canteen staff. They are the best people who can tell you about the city and since they talk to all kind of travellers, language is never a problem. As I ordered my tea and bread omelette, the canteen manager gave me, as I realised later, the most important piece of advice at that time– Take the first train from Mangalore to Goa, Matsyaganda Express at 11AM and GO HOME.

Cancelled my ticket from Udupi to Goa and decided to board the Matsyaganda express that was to start at 1100 Hrs and should take me home to Goa by late evening. And here I am, writing this on the train, leaving the edge of Malabar on to a journey to the Konkan Route, a known terrain to me.

1645 Hours — Just off Karwar, the last Karnataka station before the train touches Goa

A little after Udupi, sunshine welcomed me. Rather, I should say, I welcomed the sunshine. It was as if, the bus driver of route 45, the canteen manager and the rain gods conspired against me and made me come here. After being deprieved of sunshine for almost 3 weeks in Bangalore, it was a relief to see the Golden Globe. Droplets of sweat appeared on my forehead and I did not mind it at all.

Now, as the train goes through Konkan, the coconut tree count tends to increase, the tunnels, some as long as 3 Kms, come and go. My age old custom of switching on the lights of the compartment in the daytime, has been invoked.

The rivers are full of water. Greenery is in abundance. The Sun sprays it’s rays and the dust appears almost Golden. The train enters countless and seemingly endless tunnels and when that happens, the smell of dampness overwhelms me, and my new found friend, the future hotel manager who comes from Bengal. We continue to talk about topics ranging from Fish names to Ganguly’s woes.





Goa is an hour away. Coming to Mangalore and bringing along the rain with me was certainly a bad idea or not, I do not know. In fact, who cares, now I do not want to know.

Readers, Happy Deepawali.

Hope this year is great for the people of Blogosphere, for you all — The readers I know, the readers who post comments and the readers who follow this blog but prefer not to comment.

I am travelling right now, will post something on that soon.

I get to see the “Breaking News” banner (With a Red colour background) almost every other day on news channels. In earlier days, this was a rare sight, to see this flashing banner which almost covers half of the entire screen when on display. But now we have a “Breaking News” so often, it seems we are nearing the end of the world or something.

So, this evening I switch on the TV again, and I see the “Breaking News” flash again, and I decide on to hold on to this channel which was “Zee News”.

The news was about the Delhi Bomb blasts that happened yesterday. These were the “Breaking news” feeds:

1. Koi thos saboot ya suraag baramad nahi hua hai
(Police has got almost no evidence/clue till now)

2. bomb blast mein shaayad abc group ka haath, lekin is baat ki pushti nahi
(abc group may be involved in the blasts but it can’t be verified)

3. cyber cafe owners customers ka record rakha karen
(Cyber Cafe owners requested to keep record of the customers)

Most of the points mentioned above were “tentative” in nature. And this was Breaking news.

This news is relevant, yes, but is this “Breaking News”? I thought that phrase was used to tell about events that could shock me. Those events that could leave me stunned. But like many others, Zee News is cheap. Flash the red banners and the channel surfers are bound to go back and take notice.

A few days back we had similar news, a bomb blast and the news presenter was talking with a reporter who was at the site. A brief excerpt of what I heard:

News Presenter: xyz-ji, yeh bomb dhamaka kaafi zabardast tha, ab tak kitne logon ke marne ki aashanka hai wahan par?
( This bomb blast was a big one, how many people have died till now?)

Reporter: ji kaafi log ghayal hue hain, lekin kisi ke marne ki koi khabar nahi hai hamare paas
(Many are injured, but we are not aware of the number of casualties)

News Presenter: aisa kaise ho sakta hai, itna bada dhamaka aur ek bhi aadmi nahi mara? fir bhi aapka andaza kya hoga, kitne log mare hein, kuch to bataiye?
(Such a big blast and none dead? How is it possible? What’s your estimate, how many, do you think, must have died?)

And I wondered. Sitting in his air conditioned room, facing the camera how settled this news presenter was, while he actually hoped that someone had died there at the site. How convenient it was for him to add some more spice to the news. How thick skinned had he become after reporting the bomb blasts and the dead, and how he almost took a certain pride in it while he announced them on national television. How cheap it was, this human life, for him.

More from Rajeev Shukla, the congress MP from the Rajya Sabha, a respected media-man, as he wrote in his column published in yesterday’s Indian Express. Allow me to quote him here:

” Hard news are being sidelined even as peoplelike Kunji Lal, a non-descript astrologer from a remote village are able to take two national news channels hostage for hours. Lal predicted his own death at a precise time last week and our news channels went hysterical; putting all news on hold while relentlessly broadcasting what were deemed to be the last few hours of an otherwise healthy old man. Unfortunately for them, the man proved to be a fraud and lived past his deadline to the channel’s embarrassment”.

What do you say to that? I am so sad I missed that important “news”. I am sure this one was also accompanied by the Red coloured “Breaking News” banner.

Why are we treated with this trash? Or is the average Indian TV viewer too obsessed with the saas-bahu soap dramas that s/he looks for an element of drama even in the news? I do not understand, why would an astrologer’s prediction of his own death be relevant to me? When the police requests the cyber cafe owners to keep records of their customers, why does it become “Breaking News”? Why are the gory details of the dead telecasted live on national television?

Update: In the rare case the above post interested you, please read Alaphia’s post here.

I have been travelling. There are quite a few of unreplied emails and comments I know, but please bear with me.

Will update soon.

Yesterday was Blog Quake Day. I have been off blogosphere for the past few days and I missed. But it’s never too late to do a right thing.

My request to fellow bloggers is to link and tell about the earthquake and the relief operations. Do every little thing that you can. Link to the sites, spread word, request for donations, anything that you think can help in any way. Mind you, this is much worse than the Tsunami that happened last year.

DesiPundits page on the quake. Uma’s latest post on this. Sujatha’s effort here.

Online donations here. United Nation’s appeal.

More links here

Help.

I am not (yet) a fan of Vikram Seth, simply because, and forgive me for this, I have not read his work. But yes, over the years I have seen his books in almost all the bookshops that show some interest in the prose of Indian authors. One of them, “The Suitable Boy”, is the longest novel written by an Indian (The author took a decade to write it) and according the Wikipedia, its the 7th longest novel ever. But frankly, length of any book has never impressed me — infact, to me it is of the least significance.

For Indian writing, two events of prime significance happened earlier this month. Salman Rushdie’s “Shalimar the Clown” and Vikram Seth’s “Two Lives” were published. Seth’s new work almost made a silent debut amidst the fanfare Rushdie received.

But now, it appears, with all the interviews that Vikram Seth has given, add to it, his sense of humor and timing, I have a feeling he would end up impressing more people than any Indian author has done so in a long, long time.

The author launched his book in the 5 major cities of India. Starting from Chennai and ending it in Delhi, covering Bangalore, Kolkata and Mumbai in between. He gave interviews and came up with interesting and funny quotes like “I’m a slow writer and I respect trees” (when asked why he spent six years writing his latest book) and, here is more, “I will pretend to read from the book for a while and you take your photos,” (when asked for a photo session) and the best quote of all, here:

“what is important for a writer is when a reader is gripped by a book and delays his dinner to read a few more pages.”

That is just so true.

I have always believed that reading is something that helps build a better society, it is much more than just a way to ward off boredom. I hope the efforts Vikram Seth undertook will make people get up, take notice and read. We need more authors coming out, talking to people and signing autographs.

We need more of this.

Postscript: If this post interests you, I suggest you to please check out the links above.