Sunday, December 20, 2009

Revisiting an old post ...the sentiments being the same again :-)

We visited another world last week.


It was dense with tall, green trees, the earth was red and pebbled, the horses hawed and neighed and galloped all the time, and an army of monkeys walked along chirping continuously. The majesty of the mist-capped hills held us spellbound, the gentle nip in the air teased and titillated, the snowy sky dropped dew even as the moon slithered away with practised ease.

We came back to earth every few hours for replenishment. And the lavish Gujarati thali seemed to soften the blow.

Afternoons were spent on nowhere land as the peace and quiet within and without grew to lull us into a satiated slumber. A sharp zing of ginger in the tea, sipped on a swing, would equip us for another road of discovery. Each time we walked to an end, the visual tapestry unfolding before us would hit us anew. Mostly, it was the ridged terrain that compelled awe in our highly unyielding selves. Sometimes, it was a quaint, old dam that defined one side of the green waters framed by lush trees, or an ancient temple which was all yours for all the time you need.

I have been a virtual resident of this many-splendoured land in my childhood, when a week-long vacation was a must for the family every few months. We travelled first class, stayed in the best hotel in peak season, rode horses like maniacs till the horse tired of us, and, then, ran with their hooves till dusk broke to dawn.

When we did walk, we locked arms and blocked the road, chanting in sync, ``I left, I left, I left my wife and 48 children in the ....'' (for the penultimate step, you took a step backward, and psyched everyone around out of their wits.)

All the while, we would be bathed in the red dust that continually rose and settled on the stony paths all leading to some panoramic points. Echo Point, Monkey Point, Sunset Point, Sunrise Point, Charlotte Lake, Louisa Point, Rambaug Point, and some ten others-- each sharply rivalling the other in the regalty of the view it proffered.

As kids, we had to reckon with the monkeys hanging close to our rooms, waiting for a half-chance to swoop on the mangoes in the crate that inevitably accompanied us in the summers. Outside the hotel, they hopped around you, and, making a mockery of your self-belief, scratched and snatched that peanut packet you had held in a tight fist. I firmly believe that we have a huge hand in the continuation of this ancestral tribe.

Riding was a high that has never since been breached. Our loyal horseman would pick some thoroughbreds, who were either preparing for the Mahalaxmi race track or were done with it, and we'd set off for a wild run, winding up on at least one occasion each time with a heart-pounding gallop on the deserted race course of the place.

At times, the horses got moody and wanted to nick at you. Mine tried that once mid-trot, stopping right in middle of the bazaar and turning its long neck to have a go at my legs. Even as I tried reining him in, someone cut across the road and took charge of my wayward ward.

I am loathe to be back in this concrete hell even though I no longer sit on horses, or do I covet monkeys as much (I see enough of them in the city). What I do miss are the red soil, the imprints of hooves on it, and the smell of horse and horse shit in the air. I miss the easy ambience where nobody cares what you wear because it all looks red anyway. I miss the lazy walks and the tread along the edge of endless cliffs. Most of all, I miss watching the sunset without feeling guilty for doing so.

In case you still dont know which place I'm talking about, it's called Matheran.

Thursday, December 03, 2009

Are we ever going to live down Vinita Kamte's book or Hasan Gafoor's alleged inefficiency or the mystery behind the three officers --Hemant Karkare, Ashok Kamte and Vijay Salaskar --taking off in one police car?

Vinita is an amazing lady. She made it a point to show everyone why exactly her husband went in the same car after having some seriously gross and unthinking people question her about it. I assume the book is based on facts as I know she worked hard on it. But one must remember she lost her husband. It is possible, and she is legitimately entitled to, that she sees things differently. She may be right about Rakesh Maria and, then, she may be wrong.

I would tend to give Maria the benefit of doubt. It was an unbelievably chaotic night and he was being hemmed in by calls from all directions. He directed Kamte allegedly to his death, according to Vinita, at a time nobody had a clear idea of the scale of the attacks. Rumours were floating in thick and fast, panic frenzy had set in even among the cops, and everybody wanted to find a way to checkmate those demons.

I would think we are complaining with the benefit of hindsight. Mistakes take place in an abnormal situation, particularly when the administration has completely dispensed with the crisis management plan. The state and the city of Mumbai have separate disaster management plans. But both lie in cold storage. No minister has ever bothered to keep it active by training officers and men and carrying out periodic mock drills. Had that been done, the police rank and file would have been better tuned in, would have responded better, with the command and control lines being clearly drawn.

This, according to me, is where Vilasrao Deshmukh failed. This is where the political machinery took our lives for granted and this is where the officers were betrayed. One needs to look at the larger picture.

Vinita's book is a worthwhile effort and must be read. What I am tired of this media projection of a battle. Each day, the papers go on and on about her charges, Maria's justifications, quotes from has-beens.

Sure, the channels and the print media have perfected the art of smelling a controversy out of nowhere, conjuring up clashes, and living off it for a week till it is well and truly spent. In the process, nobody goes beyond the given and the issue gets trivialised. The reader/viewer gets what he read/saw yesterday and the day before with a few tweaks here and there.

Ditto for Gafoor. Poor man. He was a simpleton who did not build his camp in the police force and paid for it by losing his job. I know he was not inefficient and he was made a scapegoat. Yes, he could have done better but then, so could have everybody else including us.

Why are we not talking about real culprits? Gafoor, Maria etc. are being blamed for what happened at the spot. Why are we not attacking those goons in white who kept security matters on the backburner for years? These guys laughed at coastal security, ignored the crying need to reform the police, neglected disaster management preparedness, and were busy filling their own coffers by inking large business deals and selling off coast to corporates for hefty haftas.

These politicians are the real crooks, guys. They need to be hanged.

Until we do that, we are merely nitpicking, completely mistaking the wood for the trees. And worse, there is no telling if we are safe from a second attack if they do nothing even NOW. Who's to make them?
I know nothing about cricket and am immune to the fuss over Sachin Tendulkar. (God! have I committed blasphemy!)
Still, to get it out of the way, here goes:

"Nothing bad can happen to us if we're on a plane in India with Sachin
Tendulkar on it."
- Hashim Amla, the South African batsman, reassures himself as he boards a
flight.


"Sometimes you get so engrossed in watching batsmen like Rahul Dravid and
Sachin Tendulkar that you lose focus on your job."
- Yaseer Hameed in pakistani newspaper.


"To Sachin, the man we all want to be"
- Andrew Symonds wrote on an aussie t-shirt he autographed specially for
Sachin.


“Beneath the helmet, under that unruly curly hair, inside the cranium, there
is something we don't know, something beyond scientific measure. Something
that allows him to soar, to roam a territory of sport that, forget us, even
those who are gifted enough to play alongside him cannot even fathom. When
he goes out to bat, people switch on their TV sets and switch off their
lives."
- BBC on Sachin


"Tuzhe pata hai tune kiska catch chhoda hai?"
- Wasim Akram to Abdul Razzaq when the latter dropped Sachin's catch in 2003
WC.


Sachin is a genius. I'm a mere mortal.
- Brian Charles Lara


"We did not lose to a team called India ...

we lost to a man called Sachin."
- Mark Taylor, during the test match in Chennai (1997)


"The more I see of him the more confused I'm getting to which is his best
knock."
- M. L. Jaisimha


"The joy he brings to the millions of his countrymen, the grace with which
he handles all the adulation and the expectations and his innate humility -
all make for a one-in-a-billion individual,"
- Glen McGrath


"I can be hundred per cent sure that Sachin will not play for a minute
longer when he is not enjoying himself. He is still so eager to go out there
and play. He will play as long as he feels he can play,"
- Anjali Tendulkar

"India me aap PrimeMinister ko ek Baar Katghare me khada kar sakte
hain..Par Sachin Tendulkar par Ungli nahi utha Sakte.. “
- Navjot Singh Sidhu on TV


He can play that leg glance with a walking stick also.
- Waqar Younis


Sachin Tendulkar has often reminded me of a veteran army colonel who has
many medals on his chest to show how he has conquered bowlers all over the
world. I was bowling to Sachin and he hit me for two fours in a row. One
from point and the other in between point and gully. That was the last two
balls of the over and the over after that we (SA) took a wicket and during
the group meeting i told Jonty (Rhodes) to be alert and i know a way to pin
Sachin. And i delivered the first ball of my next over and it was a fuller
length delevery outside offstump. And i shouted catch. To my astonishment
the ball was hit to the cover boundary. Such was the brilliance of Sachin.
His reflex time is the best i have ever seen. Its like 1/20th of a sec. To
get his wicket better not prepare. Atleast u wont regret if he hits you for
boundaries.
- Allan Donald


On a train from Shimla to Delhi , there was a halt in one of the stations.
The train stopped by for few minutes as usual. Sachin was nearing century,
batting on 98. The passengers, railway officials, everyone on the train
waited for Sachin to complete the century. This Genius can stop time in
India !!
- Peter Rebouck - Aussie journalist


"Sachin cannot cheat. He is to cricket what (Mahatma) Gandhiji was to
politics. It's clear discrimination. "
- NKP Salve, former Union Minister when Sachin was accused of ball tempering


There are 2 kind of batsmen in the world. One Sachin Tendulkar. Two all the
others.
- Andy Flower


"I have seen god, he bats at no.4 for India "
- Mathew Hayden


"Commit all your sins when Sachin is batting. They will go unnoticed coz
even the GOD is watching"
- A hoarding in England