aditya kumar's weblog

Coming back from an unintended hibernation, I am surprised how non-reactive I have been to issues like (among other things) recession, Varun Gandhi (well not really), 80 year old chaps contesting elections, the heat waves across the country, the annual cricket tournament which lets you turn on the tv and put it on mute because you just cant afford cricket every single day for a month.

So here I am, making a very silent comeback while I also try to know how much of you missed me. Name the two movies these quotes come from. Even cheating would do, I am just interested to know who makes it reading here and cares enough to comment.

Also, I keep the right to post anonymous comments here to save embarrassment.

Quote #1 –

“There has to be a mathematical explanation for how bad that tie is. ”

Quote #2 –

Character 1: It’s finding the center of your story, the beating heart of it, that’s what makes a reporter. You have to start by making up some headlines. You know: short, punchy, dramatic headlines. Now, have a look, what do you see?
[Points at dark clouds at the horizon]… Tell me the headline.
Character 2: Horizon Fills With Dark Clouds?
Character 1: Imminent Storm Threatens Village.
Character 2: But what if no storm comes?
Character 1: Village Spared From Deadly Storm.

On the way to Delhi I find myself in the company of jaats, in fact a whole bunch of them. Now jaats are nice people but you don’t want to displease them because then they can be not-so-nice, at least thats what the general assumption is. This assumes more significance when they are wrestlers and there is a whole team of them. So while they freely chose to sarcastically comment, I continued to talk with a co-passenger girl who was an English Literature graduate student. Our talking mostly revolved around writers, writing and reading — as it happens when two aspiring writers meet. But as I later found out, she chose to change her seat for the rest of the journey, much to the dismay of her accompanying father, I assume. When I met her the other day, she quite predictably, blamed it on the jaats.

There was this one moment though when two jaats decided to push the middle berth back to its original place thereby making the lower berth a place for everyone to sit to (than to lie down). One guy had been already lying there and he chose to push the middle berth (hanging then) to its plying place without looking at the hook which was to hold it after the push. Obviously, the middle berth was not able to sustain itself and came back swiftly. The other jaat then quipped — Spiderman nahi dekhya hai ke? Jyada Taakat ke saath zimmedaari bhi aani chaiye (Haven’t you seen Spiderman — with great power comes great responsibility).

In Delhi, on a Wednesday evening I am in front of PVR Cinema, in Saket — The same place I once saw that journalist 13 years ago and watched an English movie first time in a movie theater. I am there to watch a movie and I have no idea what movie would be it. Valkyrie, looks good and I get a ticket to Audi 2, Row E, seat number 8. Before the show starts, I spend the little time I have listening to Robbie Williams on my iPod. As I enter the cinema, the security guard frisks me and my possessions quite thoroughly. So comprehensive that he wants me to show him my two cellphones and my iPod in “working” mode. I know the answer but I ask him why. So that we know these are not empty cases, he tells me. What harm could an empty case do, I am tempted to ask, that little wee bit of sarcasm and just to drag it a bit though I know exactly what he means. The glowing screens of my gadgets seem to satisfy him.

In the movie, just as another plot to kill Hitler is hatched — Intermission intervenes. You know its not supposed to be there but the cinemawalas need you to go get something to eat while they modestly show you their overpriced menu. I get myself a tea while I wonder how Tom Cruise looked the same, just as young as he is now, even during the times of Hitler. And while I try to make the most of the wide leg room at offer, my foot hits something hard on the floor. Its my iPod, lying there since I don’t know when.

Saturday evening I am at the exact same place at the exact same time and as it would later turn out the exact same seat as well (thankfully, not the exact same movie). I get myself a ticket to “The Curious case of Benjamin Button”. The security guard this time does not seem interested if I am carrying empty cases of what look like gadgets (And this baffles me — its a weekend so the “threat level” should be at a higher degree). And at Audi 2, Row E, seat number 8, this time I am left wondering how Brad Pitt who has been invariably looking the same since eternity has chosen to be born as an old man.

A little confused, I check for my iPod. Assured, I make the most of the wide leg room at offer.

While my Republic day was spent as I’d (once in a while) want it to — in a train on a cross-country ride that spanned numerous states and 2500 KM, The Hindustan Times Republic Day special, New Delhi late city edition, has something I’d want to be published a little more often. This newspaper, already 2 days old and living in a constant threat of being pushed in a pile of its older counterparts, has things I’d like to mention on my blog here. So before this forewarning becomes realistic any further, here I would like to take 9 names that spell Bravery, Heroism and much more. Most of these people mentioned below, have been awarded the country’s highest Gallantry Awards. In a country so short of heroes, here are a few. I am producing this as is, from the newspaper — Lest we forget.

1. Ajitesh Singh, Age 34

Chhattisgarh police inspector, veteran of eight encounters with armed Naxalities, the last on January 9, 2006, which left him with five bullet wounds. He survived, but three bullets still remain embedded in his chest.

2. B.K. Sharma, Age 50

Central Reserve Police Commandant whose 24 member platoon warded off an attack by over 100 armed Naxalites on August 22, 2006, as it was traveling through a forested road in Jharkhand’s Palamau district.

3. Gajendra Singh Bisht, Age 36

National Security Guards havildar, member of the commando team that descended down a rope from a helicopter above onto the roof of Mumbai’s Nariman House to rescue the residents being held hostage by the November 26 attackers. Killed by a terrorist’s bullet.

4. Mohan Chand Sharma, Age 41

Delhi Police Inspector. Shot dead on September 19, 2008, as her led the raid on alleged Indian Mujahideen terrorists responsible for serial blasts in the city, killing 26 people. In his 19-year long career, he had put to death 35 terrorists and 40 gangsters.

5. Muzaffar Ahmed Bhat, Age 21

Army sepoy killed in encounter with armed militants in Pulwama on December 4, 2007, as he tried to carry an injured colleague to safety.

6. Pramod Satpathy, Age 43

Assistant Commandant Special Operations Group, Orissa, who led the police team that chased a band of over 500 Naxalites which had killed 13 Policemen and looted arms at Nayagarh on February 15, 2008. Satpathy was killed in the encounter.

7. Raymond P. Diengdoh, Age 32

Meghalaya Deputy Superintendent of Police who led the raid upon a militant camp in the Paham-Umdoh forests bordering Assam on November 6, 2007. Hit early by a bullet, he still carried on with the operation, capturing two militants before he died.

8. Sandeep Unnikrishnan, Age 32

Major in the National Security Guards, killed while leading the team that flushed out the terrorists who had taken over Mumbai’s Taj Mahal Hotel on November 26, 2008.

9. Tukaram Omble, Age 53

Mumbai Police sub inspector who captured the sole surviving terrorist of the November 26, 2008 attack on Mumbai, Mohammed Ajmal Amir Kasab. Held on to Kasab until he died, despite being riddled by terrorists’ bullets.

I do not know how would I have reacted if I was in Bombay during (any of) the terror strikes. There would be a mix of reactions and feelings in my head and I wouldn’t quite know how I would be dealing with the situation. Would I be writing about it? Would I switch off my television, disgusted of whatever I see? Would I have prolonged discussions about it with people I can talk sense with? How would it be?

But I do have a certain idea of how I would not want to be. I would not be like Narendra Modi. I would not go there with my bunch of security guards around me and I definitely won’t talk to the press. All this while hostages and the commandos fight it out only a few meters away. I promise you that I won’t try to score a political point out of it, for deep inside I would know how shallow my words would be then, as they have always been and I would just not have courage to do it, no matter what. Perhaps I would fear that my doing it would show to the world how oblivious I am to the intensity of the situation.

I would also hate to be in the (then) CM’s shoes. After being ashamed of my deputy’s comments while trying to mellow down the mood of the public by telling that this was just a choti si baat in a bada sa shehar ( a small incident in a big city), what I would definitely say no to would be my son’s demand of accompanying me while I go (with my personal commandos of course) and inspect of what is left after the massacre. And even in the hypothetical case that I take him with me I swear to you that I would keep his friends out. No matter how good (or bad) a director you are, this is a ticket I can’t get you Mr Verma. I am Sorry.

Nor would I be like this man, who, I am sure, has quite earned the irk of of a few cosmetic companies apart from the womenfolk. It must be obvious that anyone condemning the lipstick should be prepared to be left “red-faced”. The ghosts would definitely come back to haunt when Mr Naqvi gets elected to some office in the Government (It may happen, who knows) and have a couple of women superiors to report to.

Lastly, I would hate to be this other CM and earn the wrath of the proud father of a brave soldier. I wonder, how much, if I may use the apt word, shitty, one can be to call a press conference and say it all, quite calmly, that “not even a dog would have glanced that way”.

Perhaps the most surprising impact of the Mumbai terror attacks has been the wrath earned by our politicians from the junta. It had been long impending. Today no politician can roam on the streets of Bombay or Delhi as a free man.

These are the leaders we elect and put on high places. Be scared because they come from you and me. Be worried because it is no one’s but our failure. All these years, we have failed to deliver one strong leader we can look up to.

These lines were captured on TV, while a mumbaikar took a printout and held on them:

Mr Terrorist: I am still alive, what more can you do?
Mr Politician: I am alive despite you.

I AM A MUMBAIKAR.

Its a pity that these come from the streets of Bombay, the pulse of what is the World’s largest democracy. What a shame.

Back in 1994, in New Delhi, my imagination was stirred by a Hollywood movie that I would later go on to watch 5 more times. Jurassic Park was the first Hollywood movie I watched that I completely understood. Maybe it was so because my first viewing of the movie was in Hindi. Besides, I had never managed to watch a complete Hollywood movie before.

Besides introducing a 13 year old boy to the science of cloning, it also introduced me to the rich experience of a Steven Spielberg movie and Computer Generated Imagery but the most profound and long lasting was the effect that Michael Crichton had on me. He was the author of Jurassic Park and there was a world out there to be read.

I had just started reading “The Three Investigators” and my insights into the English language and it’s literature were few. What I was not afraid of was, to pick up stuff that at first glance made little sense for someone my age. Nor was I afraid of picking books that were big in size.

I made my parents buy Jurassic Park, the book. It was a costly purchase, I remember. But more importantly, it was the start of a tradition that would serve me well — to buy books that are later made into movies.

I made myself a promise that from then on I would read every Michael Crichton book. I went on to read The Terminal Man, The Lost World, Airframe, Timeline, State of Fear and Prey. I started reading Sphere but during the course of it I once woke up to a terrifying dream. I could not complete the book. The back cover of “The Terminal Man”, the second Crichton book that I read, informed me that the author’s last name, “Crichton” rhymed with “Frighten”.

As you can see, the effect of Jurassic Park, the movie and then the book, was quite strong.

It has to stop now.

Michael Crichton, October 23, 1942 – November 4, 2008. You will be remembered as a writer who captivated minds. You fired my imagination.

And You will be missed.

I realized I had hit a reader’s block after I read about it somewhere. I was not aware of it’s existence, let alone being in one.

I read for sometime before I go to bed. At least I used to. Its another thing that my daily routine has gone for a toss since the past 6 months. Then I had time but I was not able to focus on a book for long. I had just completed Shantaram and quite honestly, the last part dragged. I was looking forward to read something else. But it persisted — I could not concentrate while reading.

I’ll cut a long story short. The problem, as I found out after much thinking, was Tolstoy’s War and Peace. I had started reading it and did so with all my sincerity and thought I was doing a commendable job too. (I still think that.) But one has to admit, the first thirty pages of a book thousand pages long and written in the 19th century, won’t be, by any means, an exciting read in modern times.

It was kind of okay and things were fine while I was content at flipping 2 pages (of fine print, I must mention) per session. Problems happened when I started to seek other books to read for my daily kick of “modern literature”. So everytime I read “something else”, it was as if Tolstoy was right there, staring at me, reminding me of the 1000 pages of fine print and what lay before me. It was quite overwhelming. Had Aditya, the ever insightful and accurate reader, finally found a match?

Okay, that last line was tongue in cheek.

A phone call to a writer friend eventually helped matters. She told me that I should not think of reading Tolstoy for now. Tell you what — I had this thing in my head for long but was not being submissive about it to myself. So I said it aloud — “Its okay to have a book and not read it for years!.” The already unread books notwithstanding, I went to the bookstore and got myself a Bryson’s book. (“A Short History of Nearly Everything”, highly recommended.) Now, Bryson is easy reading and I should do well not to think of my new found urge to read as a war won but yes, for now, I do want to read.

Oh and how do you judge if you “want” enough? Simple. If while doing things that you normally do when you are not reading (and those must be lots) you find yourself thinking about the book; your thoughts flirting with the subject or the plot — then you should know that you are the reader every writer seeks.

So, while I zip through the pages written by a new found author I intend to read every book of, I must keep in mind that there are books like Garcia’s “One Hundred Years of Solitude” and Ghosh’s “The Imam and the Indian” in my bookshelf and there is much pleasure still to discover as I yearn to go to stories told by writers who have made literature such an essential part of me.

No Goodbyes to all that.

May it bring peace, happiness and love to your home and this world. Happy Deepawali.