A L L T O U G HA Sentimental Pilgrim
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Name: A


Interests: Books, Heritage, Publishing, Travelogues, Palestine, Gujarat, Travel, Art History, Languages, Art Cinema, Documentaries, Hanif Kureishi, William Dalrymple, Naguib Mahfouz, Arundhati Roy, Alain De Botton, Paul Auster, Goa, Amitava Kumar, Bruce Chatwin, Haruki Murakami, Pondicherry, Iceland, Online Networking, Photography, Death, Solitude by the Sea, Ustad Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan, Sheila Chandra, Junoon, Switzerland, Cycling, Nutella, Obscure Music, Azaan
Occupation: Tourist, Photographer


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Member Since: 2/28/2003

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Monday, August 18, 2008

As I got home this evening, I had an envelope waiting for me. Snail mails really get me excited because they rarely come these days, all we get in the mail are bills. Nobody wants bills. I want beautifully hand written letters. The stamp said it was from the US. It seemed familiar. I never have the patience to open envelopes with an opener, I just tear it open like an over-excited juvenile.

I open it in a tearing hurry and out pops a beautiful leather bookmark and a handwritten letter. It is from dearest Randy in DC. But the bookmark was from Emma, who lives in Kenya. I am wondering how that happened? Randy's letter explained: She said, like me, Emma was also suppose to be in Switzerland this month, just like the four Gazans who couldn't make it because they didn't get exit permits from the Israel government. Emma couldn't make it but she sent this bookmark through her Dad. Her Dad gave it to Randy and that's how it got to me.

It is a wonderful coincidence that a bookmark as beautiful as this one comes to me when I have just started reading a book that is slowly growing on me. (Will write about it later). I want my books to shelter beautiful bookmarks within them. They are meant to be with each other, in holy communion. Bookmarks are very lucky, they get to spend so much time enclosed among words, especially beautiful thoughts. And most often they lie between concluding ones.

I have another one, which Anindita had given me, with her poetry inscribed on it. I don't want to use that now because I want to laminate it, so it remains protected from the elements.

I recently lost another bookmark, which Sharon had given me when we met in Caux in 2005. It was made of cloth and embroidered in Afghanistan. I had lost it on Mumbai's public transport and I was crestfallen for a few days. I still think about it lovingly. I couldn't bare to think a bookmark had made its way from the nimble fingers of a beautiful Afghani woman to Switzerland and then into all the books I had read in the last three years, and it went with me wherever I was travelling, and to finally be stamped on by a zillion feet somewhere on a dirty road in Mumbai. It breaks my heart. I hope it has found a new home in a nice vintage book on someone's oakwood shelf. That little bookmark from Afghanistan has carved a special place in my heart and left a mark in all my books.

I hope this little leather beauty from Kenya will seduce me but not so much that I forget the old one.

Thank you Sharon! Thank you Emma! Thank you Anindita!

You gave my books signposts and me the time to pause and ponder.


Saturday, August 16, 2008

I got an unexpected call and an unexpected expedition was planned in 15 minutes this evening.

R called to ask if I was free and would I agree to take him on a walking tour of Mahim. I had no plans for the evening. So I agreed. We had been planning this walk for months, since I last met him outside the Indian Merchant Chambers earlier this year. R is a journalist, a columnist and a writer. He has lived in Lahore, Toronto, New York and now, Mumbai. I had first started reading him when I was in school. He used to write a column for a tabloid in Mumbai. He was this cool hip Yankee columnist writing about the Asian scene in NY. Extremely well read, articulate and fun to read.

Years later, I saw him walk in and out of the editor's cabin at the same tabloid, where I was working. We never connected. In 2006, I spotted him on an Alitalia flight to Milan, as I was on my way to Geneva. We kept giving those all-knowing looks but never made any effort to go and introduce ourselves. The glint of familiarity remained. Neither managed to change the status quo, till I saw him at a lecture by Mahmood Mamdani in Mumbai. This was too much of a coincidence to keep popping up at the same places over the years. And after all, he was a columnist I had loved reading. I was obviously his fan. And he got about it when I told him at a dinner party at his place, last month.  By this time, I had killed all fear. The fear of approaching people. So after the lecture, I went up to him and introduced myself.  The Mahim walk germinated on the pavement outside IMC.

So we meet this evening. He is not alone. His sister has accompanied him. R is a fascinating guy. He is Pakistan born, Canadian-American bred, living in India for the past few years. Till very recently he was an editor with a newspaper in Mumbai. Currently writing a novel and a non-fiction work on the personal and political in the India-Pakistan context. S, his sister, is a scriptwriter in Indian cinema and used to host an Asian TV show in NY. We get talking about Amitava Kumar's book 'Husband of a Fanatic'. We were talking about how Amitava was married to a Pakistani and I had enjoyed reading his book. S tells me she had introduced Mona to Amitava. I remembered Imad telling me on this blog about Mona being his cousin. So we made all these connections and it seemed like a rather small world of mutual acquaintances.

I take them past Kashinath building, down Cadell road, to Topiwale Baba's dargah, past the picket fences, to the main dargah. R received a text and he had to rush to home to walk his friend's dog. So he excused himself and left S and me to continue with our tour. We went to the main dargah, walked in the bylanes behind the masjid, through the ghetto. We even went to the garbage dump, which we call Mahim beach to look at a shrine in the middle of the sea, where the Baba in the 14th century used to sit and read the Quran. We look at the corroded walls of the Portuguese fort in Mahim. We talk about the sweet water madness in the sea opposite Mahim beach, walk past a politician's house, which we discuss at length. Knock at an orphanage that has a beautiful facade, we are not given access. We walk past the building where the infamous Memon brothers lived. We gaze at the Mahim jail, walk inside the police station (which also happened to be where Baba Makhdoom used to live) and asked the constable on duty if we could have access to the room where the Baba's relics are kept. He doesn't show much interest and we don't persist. We come back near St Michael's Church, walked past Rediff.com and Hindustan Times' offices and walk through a Sindhi colony(where LK Advani lived) on to Mori Road, past the Parsi colony. Back at St Michael's Church.

It was nice to go revisit places, which I hadn't done in a few years, having lived in this area most of my life. We spoke about how we see some places everyday, zooming past on our way to work, and it is only when we take time out to explore it, do we realise the wealth that lies hidden to the naked eyes. So many communities, so many cultures, uneasily, sometimes happily, many a times uncomfortably, exists, adjust and make do with each other's idiosyncrasies in a megapolis like Mumbai.

Sometimes it takes an outsider to revalidate the richness we surround ourselves with.


Friday, August 15, 2008

I had two amazing conversations today and feel very enriched - one online and the other over dinner. I have this big wide smile on my face as I write this. The sheer energy and enthusiasm from these conversations has been a great source of inspiration and strength. It has also been calming for me. It said something to me that this is possible too.

Conversation I

I met V (will not disclose his identity as I haven't asked his permission) this evening for dinner. I wanted to meet him and personally apologise for a spur-of-the-moment decision I took about opting out of a trip a few weeks back that may have had financial ramifications on him. I also never had an opportunity for a fulfilling one-on-one conversation with him. So we met in a vegetarian restaurant this evening and we spoke at length about this journey I missed and the learnings from the gradual shift in the way he wants to live his life. Something he had shared with me on email a long time ago but always wanted to ask him how it was to practice it. His simplicity, his humility, his honest-to-goodness conversation from the heart and the courage of his convictions to practice what he believes in has ingrained a very warm positive feeling inside me.

Let me share what he wrote to me on email:

"After years of working the mainstream way, I have recently adopted a new economic model for myself which works solely on trust. It is part of my ongoing quest to live a life that is based on integrity and authenticity. How it works is like this:  I offer my skills, talents, knowledge and experience [...]to individuals and organizations. And they only need to pay me what they feel my work is worth. I'm not going to negotiate with them on how much they should pay me for the time and knowledge I invest in their projects. I'm going to accept whatever they offer, with love, trusting that they have my best interests at heart. There's just one condition and that applies only to me… I'm going to take on just those projects that resonate with me spiritually and ideologically. This would mean doing away with work that may pay very well, but may not mean much to me otherwise." [...]

After our meal and enriching conversation, as we walked towards the bus station, he spoke endearingly about Satish Kumar - a monk he had met on a training programme in India, and someone I was introduced to by Buma in Glasgow. This wise sage had lived in the same village home in Scotland (while on his walking pilgrimage of the UK) where I was incredibly lucky to have stayed on many long weekends as Buma's guests.

I loved the connection we had made in our own special way with a man who I had heard so much about and V's narrative and experience of this man only heightened my curiosity and I have promised myself that I will go to Devon in Hertfordshire this year and try and meet this great man.

Meeting V on India's Independence Day was like freeing the mind of all triviality, learning that you can make things possible by starting with yourself. An idea that I have constantly engaged with in the the last few years but I still need to make it a part of me to add more meaning. But I found about our conversation about Satish was this: I meet V. I meet Buma. They both talk about Satish. I have to meet Satish now.

Conversation II

I have a chat with my old friend Asad  after a long time. (I have his permission to write about it) We used to live in the same locality in Jeddah, 10 years ago. We have had our share of conversations after our daily walk to the masjid in the hot Arabian sun. I haven't seen him in a decade. He went off to Australia to study. I came to India. He got loads of degrees and certificates and finally took the plunge last Sunday. He got married in the holy city of Medina. (I stand corrected, it was Makkah)

As I congratulated him there was a beautiful love story waiting to be narrated. During his time in Australia, a friend was going through an online matrimonial website, he saw a profile, didn't make much of it, and recommended it to Asad. Asad saw potential in it, sent an email. It was acknowledged and a trail of words followed online for sometime. They decide they need to take it a step forward and meet in person. But there is a problem. They aren't in the same city. Not even in the same country.

Asad is not the dating-type guy. He was very clear about it since I have known him. He was going to meet a girl only with the intention of marriage. He operates in these matters rather differently. He involves the elders. So he got his dad to get in touch with her dad and fix up a meeting for them to meet.

She is of Pakistani parentage. Asad has Indian origins. The fathers agree. Asad flies from Australia to New Zealand to meet her. He spends six hours with her. He returns home. Within a week they decide they are meant for each other. They decide to get married. They inform their respective parents.

Parents are wary about it. But they agree to meet. In many Asian societies, you don't just marry a boy or a girl, you also marry their families. So the families agree to the marriage on the condition they meet each other first and then take it from there. Asad's parents live in Saudi Arabia. So the girl and her parents fly down to Saudi Arabia. Both families meet and get along like a house on fire. They bless the couple. Both the families go to Medina (Makkah) and got them married last Sunday.

Asad has moved from Australia and settled down in Riyadh. The Nikah (the religious ceremony for matrimony) was performed but his beloved is not with him. She has flown back to New Zealand to complete her psychology degree. The 'ruksati' (the farewell of the girl from her home and formally stepping into her husband's home) will happen later this year. They will live as a couple in a few months from now. Asad tells me he is unwell and he is being teased by everyone that no sooner had she left, he has fallen ill. We laugh. I tell him he is lovesick.

I could sense Asad's happiness. He was oozing profundity tonight. (He always behaved like that during our days in KSA). His marriage was also a sign of hope, but also despair - that my single status will also end soon, as my friends fade away into matrimony.  But it also made me very happy for my friend.  Asad says, his story is not as simple as I have narrated, there are still many twists and turns but says he will update me about it later. I think it is an interesting story - encompassing five countries. A truly globalised couple!

Yalla habibi, you are taken. Ma'asalaama (Asad, this is for you, if you are reading).


Wednesday, August 13, 2008

My Reading List

My reading list for the next few weeks. They getting me really excited. But how on earth am I going to find time to read them without being asocial? The first big task is to go and source these books. And that is killing my enthusiasm already. Lazy, lazy me.

Naomi Klein, The Shock Doctrine: The Rise of Disaster Capitalism,
London: Allen Lane, 2007.
This book is produced by the bestselling author of No Logo and argues that global capitalism has consistently exploited crises, whether in Iraq or New Orleans after hurricane Katrina, to make profit and transform places in ways more conducive to the operation of the big corporations. Klein identifies a phenomenon she terms disaster capitalism to describe the manner in which people reeling from natural or man-made crises have, in addition, been subject to economic ‘shock treatment’ and corporate profiteering.

Joseph Stiglitz, Making Globalization Work,
London: Penguin Books, 2006.
This is a popular and accessible book from a former World Bank insider and critic of globalisation. The book follows on from the best-selling Globalization and Its Discontents and outlines how the global economy needs to be reformed if we are to address the problems of the world’s poor.

Ha-Joon Chang, Bad Samaritans:
The Guilty Secrets of Rich Nations and the Threat to Global Prosperity,
Random House Business Books, 2008.
Ha-Joon Chang is one of the world's foremost heterodox economists specialising in development economics. Chang is not opposed to trade and markets as such, but merely argues that the current economic policies supported by the IMF and wealthy countries are hindering development and creating poverty. He bases this view not only on his very rigorous research into comparative development over his years as an economics professor at Cambridge University, but also on his direct experience of his native South Korea's development.

Rajiv Chandrasekarin, Imperial Life in the Emerald City: Inside Baghdad’s Green Zone,
London: Bloomsbury, 2007.
This is an accessible and eye opening account of America’s bungled attempts to reconstruct Iraq after the invasion in 2003. Written by a Washington Post journalist it details how the post-invasion policy was badly planned and badly implemented. Examples include the aide who based Baghdad’s new traffic laws on those of the state of Maryland downloaded from the web and the 24 year old with no experience of finance who was put in charge of revitalising Baghdad’s stock exchange.

Paul Rogers, Global Security and the War on Terror - Elite Power and the Illusion of Control,
Routledge, 2007.
This is a collection of essays by Professor Paul Rogers. Professor Rogers argues that the current post-Cold War security paradigm is fundamentally misguided and unsustainable. The book concludes with two new essays on the need for a new conception of global security rooted in justice and emancipation.

Chris Abbot, Paul Rogers and John Sloboda, Beyond Terror: The Truth About the Real Threats to Our World,
London: Rider, 2007.
This is a short and accessible book that examines the key threats to global security which the authors argue include climate change, competition over resources, marginalisation of the majority world and global militarisation.

Jonathan Schell, The Unconquerable World: Power Nonviolence and the Will of the People,
London: Allen Lane, 2004.
Jonathan Schell presents an alternative history of the world outlining the important role that nonviolence has played in bringing about transformative changes in the international system. Schell makes a compelling case for the continued relevance of nonviolent political action in a world seemingly dominated by actors more interested in solving problems on the battlefield.

Cynthia Enloe, Bananas, Beaches and Bases. Making Feminist Sense of International Politics, University of California Press (updated edition) 2001.
A groundbreaking feminist perspective on international politics variously described as a classic and the ‘magna carta’ of feminist international relations. The book explores the gendered nature of international politics and the numerous roles played by women that are nevertheless ignored by mainstream international relations.


Sunday, August 10, 2008

I have an unconscious habit of crossing my legs while I am in deep slumber. I never thought much about it. It is just a matter of comfort. In fact, you don't think of things you do when you are fast asleep, you just do them without much thought. The past few days I have Apa come in the early mornings during Fajr prayers and very discreetly lift one of my leg by a toe, uncrossing it, leaving it astride. And this unvoluntary action usually wakes me up (which is also often time for me to get up for the morning prayers). I kept my questioning for a latter part of the day when I am more mentally alert.

I cornered her this morning and asked her to explain her actions. She told me, our dear departed Nanima did not allow it. I initially thought the rationale would have to do with the sunnah - of following Prophet Mohammed (pbuh)'s lifestyle. But why? I asked. She said it was because crossing our legs when we are asleep hampers our social standing in our everyday life. This is so bizarre. This was serious old wives' tale, being perpetuated by a third generation woman of my family. But this was definitely not religion, but more of a culturally rooted myth. This will need to go too.

I will have to think of creative ways of sleeping now.
And in case you are wondering, my social life rocks!



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