A Tale of Two Cities

Through the ages, whenever a discussion on the documentation of the French Revolution in classical literature ensues, “A Tale of Two Cities” comes to mind. It shows in grim, deterministic detail the foremost cause for the original revolution, i.e. the victimisation of the peasants by the aristocracy and the famine and suffering faced by them, which subsequently resulted in an uprising and the downfall of the nobility. However, it speaks more of the anarchy that was an outcome of public “awakening”, as the avenging revolutionaries grew to be as depraved as those whom they overthrew. The Revolution and the following reign of terror was an event that gripped the imagination with its atmosphere of suspicion and conspiracy, class antagonisms, its lurid prison massacres and death cart tumbrels. The movie brings home the horror and lawlessness of it in every living room even today.

The plot also reveals the conflicting emotions in the mind of the author. From the perspective of an Englishman, the French Revolution is portrayed as barbaric and fuelled by bitter revenge, rather than by an innate need for freedom of body and spirit. He shows the utter irrationality of the Jacquerie, particularly Madame Defarge, who will stop at nothing, including the murder of innocents, in order to exact their revenge. In contrast, London is made out to be a haven of peace and stability. At the same time, he appears to sympathise with the abject poverty and class injustice prevalent, with an insurgency arising out of the soil of oppression and growing in an environs in which cause and effect knit together irrevocably like the names in Madame Defarge’s “register”. The scene of the wine spilling in the street is especially poignant. The eagerness with which the impoverished peasants lap up the muddy wine shows the extent of the hunger and scarcity faced by them. The wine is also symbolic of the blood that will be spilt in future years by the same peasants in their revolution against the tyranny of the aristocracy. The attitude of the Marquis St. Evremonde when a child is crushed under the wheels of his recklessly driven carriage clearly demonstrates the callousness of an arrogant and indifferent ruling class and their disdain for the life of the lower classes and for their suffering. The subsequent murder of the Marquis foreshadows the coming revolution and is a veiled warning to other members of the nobility of what the future might hold if they persist with meting out inhuman treatment to the bourgeoisie.

The movie awakens in the viewer questions about whether the Revolution was indeed a time of equality, fraternity, and liberty, or a ruthless reign of terror where, consumed by revolutionary fanaticism, the populace who first demanded equal rights for all citizens turn into perpetrators of the very ruthlessness from which they hoped to free themselves by spilling the blood of many innocents.

CHEERS!

Footprints

Over the years, I have had some of the best friends a person could ever have, but have never gotten around to thanking them, atleast not publicly. And so, I decided that by writing about them, I’d let more people know just what wonderful people I’ve been lucky enough to have by my side. So here goes.

Lee

Name at birth – Priyanka Gulrajani. Popularly known as Lady Lee. Also known as Aphrodite, Roman goddess of, as she put it, “carnal pleasures”. Not to be confused with Greek goddess of love. Lol. Crazy, impetuous, in the words of many obscure men, “hot”, most unconcerned about public opinion, as my mom put it, a confident girl with a sunny disposition. I’ll never forget the numerous times I’ve been totally embarrassed by her plonking herself down in the middle of the road to put Band-Aids on her feet, or, for that matter, her uncanny knack of hip hopping to any sort of music, no matter where she is, revelling rather than being embarrassed by the continuous attention she attracted because of this habit, it was always left to the rest of us to field the not so very approving glares that were directed at her. Pest! Endless classes, Sparks, pool, lunches, shopping, movies, Jade(ugh), lunch in Kadai and nearly dying after it, being thought of as lesbian lovers, we certainly have a LOT of memories. And oh yes, how can one forget her inane habit of naming everything she uses, from her phone (Trystan, followed by Gareth Woolf), her car (dear old dysfunctional Sandy), the computer in college (PINKY, now wasn’t that imaginative…..), an endearing but WEIRD habit. Chica, I really don’t know how I’d have made it through these years without you around for constant entertainment.


Pavi

Name at birth – Pavitra Sazawal. Splitting image of Priyanka Gandhi. Biggest cricket fan in India. Kashmiri and exceptionally proud to be one. Whole family’s got something or the other to do with media. Not particularly secular, generally not quite complimentary about the race of Muslims, but totally in love with Waseem Akram. Lol. Self righteous, frank and rather indignant about everything, she is one of the two people I know who can deafen you even if you’re almost a kilometre apart. Also excellent at emitting piercing whistles at the drop of a hat. Solid fun to have around, but obsessed with perfection. An exacting taskmaster when she chooses to be one. Very very scary when she’s on the warpath, so people tend to automatically do whatever she wants them to. The sole reason why our documentary happened despite all our procrastinating. And then she lost her air ticket and couldn’t make it back from Delhi for the screening of it. Sigh. Rather prone to sending people viruses and then claiming to have absolutely no knowledge of how they got sent. Also very prone to wearing starling orange t-shirts by which she has come to be known now not only by friends and family, but by some very unsavoury characters too. Suddenly very obsessed with perfection when it comes to her looks, always perfectly groomed and still whining about being a defective piece and not being fair enough and blah blah blah. A unique and totally amazing friend to have for life…..Pav, I just know you’re going to make it big.


Shakuntala

Name at birth – Nongmaithem Jyoti Devi. Known as Shakuntala for her graceful performance in the play of the same name. The typical northeastern beauty with skin like milk that stays that way no matter what she does or eats. Sigh. Loads of fun to be with, talks nineteen to a dozen, with firm and unchangeable views on almost every topic in the world, always laughing, rarely loses her temper, way too rational. Created major havoc during our documentary because half the racers fell in love with her. Idiots. Awesome lunch pal. Also a totally awesome roommate to have because she loves washing clothes and dishes and giving people massages, and is generally quite the efficient housekeeper. OBSESSED with chicken, will absolutely not set foot in any food joint that does not serve it. A big time movie buff, with a major soft spot for sob stories. The horoscope queen, who won’t move a foot unless Bejan Daruwalla or Linda Goodman ordains it. One of those people who are always perfectly turned out with matching clothes, perfect jewellery, and permanently done eyebrows and painted nails and the like. A friend nobody would regret having.


Newmie

Name at birth – Naomi Thommy. Innocent looking but positively evil brat, who claims to have Chinese ancestors. She’s a weird mixture of Malayalee and Sikkimese! Mom makes the yummiest momos and is the sole reason why I’m hooked onto them. We go back a long way, known each other since we were in school. She was quite a tomboy and tormentor then. Then Sandeep came into the picture and Naomi became sweet and considerate and angelic and the epitome of feminity (is that a word?). Plays the bass guitar for our college Indian music team with awesome skill. Great sense of humour, occasionally perverted. I pity her kids because I’ve heard the names she plans to inflict on them. Was off to Poland to drive some poor Polish people crazy by trying to teach them English for a while, but is now back and polluting the atmosphere of Mudra in an attempt to be the next sensation in the advertising world. And she will be too.


Cherie

Name at birth – Shree Srinivas. Tall, well built, good looking and the rock of gibraltar of our class. God I really don’t know how our batch would have survived without her…..actually, how the whole college would have survived. I bet there’ll be continuous calls for her to do all work pertaining to the computer for all inspections and presentations! Has a fatal attractions to cows…..from kissing one and literally inspecting the contents of its nose and mouth at very close quarters, to getting thrown of her bike by one, they just can’t leave her alone! Married and in America now, and well…..she’s the biggest darling ever.


Palli

Name at birth – Anjana Shankar. This is one person I will probably never be able to express my actual feelings about, which is why I’ve left her for last, but never ever believe that she ranks least in my esteem. My big sister and closest friend. My favourite lunch pal. We go back a long long way, right from the time we were three and she broke my dad’s nose (I know I shouldn’t bring that up in a public forum, but there’s been no better form of blackmail in all these years!) Jokes apart, she’s been there for me right through every moment of my life, my most ardent supporter, and the one person who has believed in me no matter what. At the same time, one of my most severe critics. Classmates for a large chunk of our school days, we’ve gone from building tents with chairs and bedsheets to play house-house in with her collection of pretty dolls, to studying maths together in Pre University, to gossiping for hours on end about friends in later years. I’ve spent a large part of my summers right from school in her house, troubling her by insisting on playing games that bored her immensely. Incredibly intelligent, and even more talented. Awesome cartoonist. The biggest Calvin and Hobbes fan around. Terrific sense of humour, although sometimes a bit sad. Known to borrow books from the library and keep renewing the same book for over a year because she hasn’t got around to reading it! Way too patient and tolerant for her own good. I think I’ve misused those qualities of hers most by moaning and groaning for years on end! She never ever told me to buzz off though, and I can’t be more grateful for that. Out of the country to study now. Needless to say, I miss her terribly.

Shall be continued as and when I have the time. Till then, enjoy.

Children of Conflict

I’m probably one of the last people in the country to watch “Blood Diamond”, but I finally decided to get my act together, and watch the movie everybody has been raving about. And now, I regret not watching it earlier. I can’t believe the critics gave this movie just two stars. I’d give it more than ten!

Most of you would know the story, but for those who don’t - Set against the backdrop of Sierra Leone, where a fierce civil war has killed thousands of innocent civilians, and driven more than a million people out of their homes and villages and into refugee camps, Blood Diamond is the story of Danny Archer, a South African mercenary, and Solomon Vandy, a Mende fisherman. Both men are African, but their histories as different as any can be, until their fates become joined in a common quest to recover a rare pink diamond that can transform their lives. While in prison for smuggling, Archer learns that Solomon, who was taken from his family in a rebel raid and forced to work in the diamond fields, has found and hidden the extraordinary rough stone. With the help of Maddy Bowen, an American journalist whose idealism is tempered by a deepening connection with Archer, the two men embark on a trek through rebel territory, a journey that could save Solomon's family and give Archer the second chance he thought he would never have.

The first thing I did when I got home was to look up the history of conflict diamonds on the net, to see if the situation was really as grim as they made it out to be. The first website I saw began with a picture of a seventeen year old who lost both hands to rebels’ machetes, currently at Waterloo camp, Sierra Leone. As I went through the rest of the articles, I began to realize just how dire the situation is even today.

As armed conflict proliferates around the world, ever-increasing numbers of children are exposed to the brutalities of war. At any given time, over 300,000 children are actively fighting as soldiers with government armed forces or armed political groups in more than 85 countries around the world, including Sierra Leone, Mozambique, Angola, Southern Sudan, Uganda, Afghanistan, Liberia, Burundi, Colombia, Democratic Republic of Congo, Cote d' Ivoire, India, Pakistan, Nepal, Sri Lanka, and East Timor. While most child soldiers are in their teens, some are as young as seven years old! Many are abducted or recruited by force, while others are volunteers seeking to avenge harm done to family members, seeking refuge from social and economic desperation, or seeking parental surrogates or group membership. Some are seduced by promises of money and clothes. Yet others are simply too young to know any better. But the majority join simply to protect their lives. Easily intimidated and vulnerable, they are often compelled under the threat of death to commit grievous acts, many of which they are unable to comprehend because of their extreme youth.

Child soldiers deal with horrific acts of violence on a daily basis. These young soldiers “play” with weapons like AK-47s on the front lines of combat, act as spotters, observers and message carriers, and even take part in suicide missions. In Sierra Leone, thousands of children, abducted by rebel forces and forced into becoming members of their groups, witnessed acts of unbelievable violence against innocent civilians, including beheadings, amputations and rape, often against their own families or communities. In Colombia, children as young as eight are recruited by the government-backed paramilitary troops. In Asia, child soldiers exist in Afghanistan, Indonesia, Sri Lanka and the Philippines, where they are mainly associated with armed opposition groups, or groups composed of ethnic or religious minorities, especially in Sri Lanka, where thousands of children are believed to be in the ranks of the LTTE.. Stories abound of children who are forced to take drugs that inhibit guilt and fear before being sent out to fight, and who are forced to commit atrocities against their own families as a way to destroy family and communal ties.

Girls too also used as soldiers. They are frequently used for sexual purposes, commonly assigned to a commander and at times gang-raped. Hundreds are taken as “wives” for rebel leaders in African countries plagued by civil unrest. The risks to these girls of sexually transmitted diseases or unwanted pregnancies are enormous.

Child soldiers are frequently subject to extreme abuse and manipulation during training and combat, and generally suffer higher casualty rates than adults because of their immaturity, vulnerability and lack of experience. These children are denied a childhood, something that most of us take for granted. They aren’t given a chance to develop basic civic and social skills. Even after conflicts are resolved, they are left physically maimed, permanently handicapped, addicted to drugs, and psychologically traumatized from exposure to danger, violence, and carnage. With no formal schooling except in the art of war, many former child soldiers turn to a life of crime. Once a child has been taught to kill, it is extremely difficult to remove the violent mentality. Their language becomes aggressive. Many of them are trained to inflict sexual violence, and hence are dangerous in society and around women. Without intervention, they could grow up to become a lost generation of migrant professional killers, and become constant threats to social and political stability within their countries.

I’m still in a state of shock. Currently, all I can do is quote the most famous line of Conrad’s Heart of Darkness - “the horror, the horror”.

Angikaar

The word ‘secular’ is a cliché used feverishly by the powers that be at international congregations to depict the quintessential Indian and the attitude of acceptance that is characteristic of our nation.

And yet a sporadic outbreak of communal violence is the most accepted excuse for violence in our country. Over the last century, India has time and again been rocked by incidents of communal, caste, linguistic or regional violence. Tormenting images of hatred, persecution and violence come to the fore, as the “demons” within us become life threatening genies, and emerge from their bottles to wreak havoc. We console ourselves by fuelling the conviction that a citizenry so diverse in composition must occasionally be diverse in interests. It is then but natural that a conflict of interests should lead to violence as the “rational” means of settling these differences.

It may not even be communalism that fuels these acts of violence. It is common knowledge that communal incidents are rarely spontaneous. They are quite often incited and organised, and take place in the backdrop of hatred and suspicion spread against religious minorities. Religion and poverty sustain politics. If poverty was eradicated and religious disparity suitably decoded, politicians would have to run their campaigns on basic integrity, a quality that is rather elusive to minds accustomed to corruption, exploitation and bribery. The rampant inequality and discrimination in the employment sector should unquestionably justify one community’s envy of another’s wealth and status sufficiently. The caste divide exists despite the unending battle against it, the world is nowhere close to being classless. The fight for a just society is also a fight against the stiff upper lip. The recent name change from Bangalore to Bengaluru springs from the perception that the haves live in Bangalore and the have-nots in Bengaluru. The violence that accompanies the manifold campaigns against the screening of non Kannada films in the city is another classical manifestation of herd-instinct. The “sons of the soil” would not think twice before killing a few “outsiders” to ensure that they retain the sole right to make the oh-so-important decisions of what the city and its streets and airports should be called. More important than finding gainful employment for the beggars and better infrastructure that could at least accommodate the traffic of the city.

Each of us can do our bit in eradicating communalism, by living out our lives alongside our neighbours in perfect harmony, by accepting the fact that there is a need to know and trust each other, and place this need above any other possible bias, by overlooking the religious aspect of a festival and viewing it as a celebration, by embracing others during a tragedy, not because they are of our religion, but because they are human.

(Dedicated to the person without whose valuable inputs, this article would be just blah)

Puzzle Master

A prize for anyone shall be given to whoever solves this correctly. Think carefully.

Three hawks have been killing a farmer's chickens. One day he sees all three sitting on the roof of his chicken coop. The farmer has just one bullet in his gun, and the hawks are so far apart that he can only hit one. He aims at the hawk on the left, shoots and kills it. The bullet doesn't ricochet. How many hawks are left on the roof?

Deathly Hallows

All those of you who would like what might or might not be a pre-released/stolen copy of the 7th Harry Potter, let me know.

I'm hoping with all my heart and soul that it is only a fabricated version, because I read all of one page and it isn't very good, and besides, it isn't fair to the author to circulate something she's toiled over for ages without ensuring she gets a slice of the pie.

Anyhow. You know the drill. Let me know. Will mail it to you.