Colors of Fall

Colors of Fall

Random Musing #1

Why is it always that things that you want the most are the ones that you cannot have!

Is it because you cannot have them that you want them, or just that since you cannot have them, you feel that they are the ones you want the most ;)

Maybe, it is true that once you get something, the value of it in your eyes reduces!

On the same note: The fun is in the chase, not in the capture... Its the process which is fun, rather than the result.

Same reason why every job gets boring after a while. Initially you are learning new stuff, getting to do new things, however, as we spend more time on it, even the most interesting task becomes mundane, and we execute it like its a burden on us...

The Dream

The rain came down in thin streaks. The hooded figure continued to move forward through the darkness. At times, disappearing under the cover of darkness, at times illuminated by the yellow glow of the street light. Not once did it turn and offer me a look at the face inside the black cloak.

I continued following the figure - fascinated, transfixed - by the mystique, over the smooth pavement, across streets branching off to the left. The dark river gushed along the road to the right. Its gurgles strangely amplified by the silence of the dark night, sounding more eerie than ever.

The night was strangely windless, although the rain came down at an angle, its falling drops looking like tiny silver arrows in the halo around the street lamps.

The black figure continued silently through the night. Silent. Quiet. As fascinating as ever. Unquestioningly I followed. A strange warmth glowing inside my heart.

Then suddenly it disappeared. I searched the streets around. As I searched, I saw in the distance a figure, slumped across the steps to a dark green colored door, with a golden doorknob. I rushed there and turned the crumpled body. A scream of horror escaped my mouth as I saw the face behind the hood. It was a ghostly white, contorted into a smile, a mocking, cruel smile – not unlike the clown in a circus. No, this could not have been that.

Just as I gave up hope and turned back, I saw the swish of a black cloak vanishing behind the corner. I ran in that direction, leaving behind or caution, or premise of it, splashing through the muddy puddles created by the rain, running through the equally muddy rivulets of water – towards the street along the river. The rivulets were ominously flowing in the direction away from the river.

As I turned the corner, I caught sight of the figure again walking steadily ahead at a distance. It did not seem to notice the noises that I made, mindlessly walking its own way, pace steady. The urge to see the face behind the hood irresistible, I hastened even more, catching up with it at long last. Somehow, I did not have the mind to peer into the face although I was now walking along with it now. I was content, walking up the hill, not speaking a word, not caring where the hood was taking me.

At the top of the hill, I could see a house. It shone bright in the wild night. A lamp hung outside, steady and warm in the night air. I could feel its warmth despite the distance.

Then the hood suddenly crumpled to the ground. Then there appeared the full moon in a half clouded sky, and the hood rose and made its way towards the heavens. As rigid as if made from rock, as smoothly as a ghost ship sailing into the sky. And I was left in the middle of a small clearing in the woods, the house-light still shining in the distance.

And as we wind on down the road
Our shadows taller than our soul.
There walks a lady we all know
Who shines white light and wants to show
How everything still turns to gold.
And if you listen very hard
The tune will come to you at last.
When all are one and one is all
To be a rock and not to roll.

Partition - and Indian History in General

This article appeared in the Times of India - written by S A Aiyar, who at times I feel is the only saving grace of the tabloid that the newspaper has now become.

I guess, we will never conclusively know what actually panned out. The sad part is, our politics still cant accept a scholarly book without getting bitter about it. Its sad that today, children in India learn history only till 1947, that is when it ends! Did we as a nation stop making history that day? Nothing about the Indo-Pak wars, nothing about our achievements in space technology, nothing about the changes in every field that the country has undergone till now.

Sad.

We keep pondering over our Shivajis and Chandraguptas while continuing to ignore our very recent - and ten times more relevent past.

Anyway, please find the article below for convenience.


Jaswant pays price for telling the truth S A Aiyar Sunday August 23, 2009

For decades, Congress and BJP have jointly nurtured the myth that Britain teamed up with Jinnah to impose Partition on India, to institutionalise divide-and-rule even after leaving. No, says Jaswant Singh in his new book. Partition was largely due to Nehru and Sardar Patel, who insisted on a centralised India and vetoed the loose federation favoured by Jinnah.

The BJP has expelled Jaswant, and, outrageously, banned his book in Gujarat. He wonders why the party is upset by his expose of Patel/Nehru. He should have known that his expose would damage the anti-Muslim ideology of the BJP more than that of Congress.

Historically, India was a land of a thousand warring kings, along with divisions of language, region and religion. Division was a fact of life: the British did not have to invent it. Rather, as Maulana Muhammad Ali said to the British, ‘‘We divide and you rule.’’
British rule consolidated a hitherto fragmented India. Even so, British India covered only half the area and two-thirds of the population of the sub-continent. The rest lay with 600-odd princely states. Had Britain wanted to continue divide-and-rule — and Churchill certainly did — it just had to stand by its treaties with the 600 princes, who wanted independence. But the Labour Party that came to power in 1945 was against such imperial games. Mountbatten, the last Viceroy, told the princes they must join India or Pakistan. This helped create two countries out of 600 princedoms.

Jaswant portrays Jinnah as a secularist wanting a loose federation of states, each with substantial autonomy. A loose federation was initially proposed by Mountbatten but rejected by Nehru, who said it would Balkanize India. Nehru wanted a strong federal government for unity. Jinnah said this was a cloak for Hindu hegemony.

Jaswant is perhaps too soft on Jinnah, who had a communal streak as well as a secular one. His insistence that only the Muslim League could speak for Muslims was pure communalism. At one time he favoured a loose federation, but ultimately insisted on a separate Pakistan.

The interim government of 1946-47 included Congress and the Muslim League. Jinnah quarrelled daily with Congress on issue after issue to deny it legitimacy.

Liaquat Ali of the Muslim League was finance minister in the interim government, and had the power to block any expenditure. He constantly queried and blocked spending proposals of Congress ministers. Patel said he could not even appoint a chaprasi without Liaquat’s approval, which took ages.

In February 1947, Liaquat presented a socialist ‘‘poor man’s budget’’. This imposed a 25% tax on business profits over one lakh rupees, doubled the corporate tax, imposed capital gains tax, and doubled the export duty on tea. It also proposed a commission to unearth tax-evaders.

Socialists in Congress supported these proposals. But others like Patel were outraged, claiming that Liaquat was really attacking Hindu businessmen (like G D Birla) who had long financed Congress. This was a Hindu communal interpretation of a budget that equally affected Muslim and Parsi industrialists. Hindu businessmen also feared that Liaquat would selectively target them for tax evasion via the new commission, a fear some Congressmen shared.

This reflected, in part, an unwillingness to accommodate the agenda of a prickly coalition partner. Ironically, the Congress of Sonia Gandhi would in 2004-08 swallow more humiliations from a prickly partner than it did in 1946-47. But in 1947, Congress saw itself as the natural party of rule, not a mere coalition partner.

Liaquat’s tactics were stunningly successful. They convinced Patel — and later Nehru — that working with the Muslim League was impossible. Alan Campbell-Johnson says in Mission with Mountbatten that Nehru and Patel accepted Partition because ‘‘by conceding Pakistan to Jinnah they will have no more of him and eliminate his nuisance value; or as Nehru put it privately, that by cutting the head we shall get rid of headache.’’

This supports Jaswant Singh’s claim that Congress opted for Partition rather than share power with Jinnah. Pakistani historians like Ayesha Jalal argue that Congress was unwilling to make the compromises necessary in a diverse democracy, and this led to Partition. Other historians blame Jinnah and Liaquat for sabotaging any chance of a unified India.

Either way, we need to abandon the myth that the British imposed Partition on India, though Mountbatten saw it as desirable and helped promote the Jinnah-Congress agreement on it. The clincher was Liaquat’s budget and obstructionism, which drove Congress from opposing Partition to becoming a fully consenting partner in it. Jaswant Singh could have been tougher on Jinnah, but has correctly highlighted Congress’ role in Partition

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Also it hurts that the BJP is running around like a headless chicken, not proving to be a worthy opposition to the government... Blah :x

Chamonix

We took the TGV { :D :D :D } from the Gare de Lyon in Paris to Lyon, and then changed three regional trains to reach Chamonix by 4 30pm. By then we were in a disastrous state. One wheel of the big strolley bag that Minu and Payal had, had come off, and it was barely possible for two people to struggle along with it. The fact that we did not know the directions to the hostel seemed a minor blip on the radar. Eventually, we got out at the main Chamonix station, walked to the tourism office, and got to know that the Youth Hostel was 2 train stops before town. Now for very dumb reasons, and due to the shut down that our brains had undergone after a very hectic last 48 hours, we got onto the train back, and got off just 1 stop later! As a consequence, we were hauling up a hill, around 9 heavy bags, sacks, one with a broken wheel. We tried catching a bus, but nothing worked. Eventually, we reached up to the hostel at 7 20 or so, after cursing the hill we were climbing, and were more than happy to go and crash in our rooms.

An awesome journey this was, not to say, hilarious in light of posteriority.

And now, today is Sunday, the 19^th, when I sit in the Chamonix hostel room, too tired to coax myself to move from bed, content to sit and type onto my laptop the happenings till now.

On this Sunday, the others went hiking into the mountains, as a result of which they had some pretty pictures to show. I contented myself to sit and type into this journal for the entire morning, stretching well into the afternoon. We discovered that, we could travel free in the train till the end of France – to a place called Vallerene on the France-Swiss border. Having nothing better to do with our time, we decided that going on this 40 minute journey was the best thing that we could do with our time at hand. Climbing down from the hostel to Les Pellerines train station, we took the train to Vallercene. The travel was really scenic, with Mont Blanc and other snow clad peaks constantly in view. The Europeans have build so many cable cars, and to such heights that I keep getting astonished at their engineering. Cable cars reach upto heights of 3800m to a place called Augere du Midi. Apparently, this place is 8km from the Mont Blanc peak, and offers stunning views of it. However, being on a shoestring budget, we contended ourself with seeing the cars from Chamonix – from a height of 1095m, from the comfort of our train. During the 40 min journey, I was invited to showcase my singing skills by Minu and H, and needless to say, I grabbed the opportunity, my newfound confidence in my voice egging me on. Since then I have been singing a lot on the trip. :P

Vallercene was quite a disappointment. We were hoping to have dinner here, but were disappointed at the lack of eateries here. So we took the same train back to Chamonix. We were in Vallercene exactly for 10 min – from 5 50 to 6pm. :D In Chamonix, we headed to Elevation 1904 – a place recommended by the Lonely Planet guide. 1904 did not disappoint. The nice cool bar, with the friendly barman, was enticing, and H and I decided that this might be the best time to get high. We started with some Vodka and Tequila, and by the time we were done, we were 12 euros lighter in our pockets, and more light in our heads. The best thing about getting high is that you speak things as soon as they come to mind. You do not stop to think about whether what you say might sound stupid, and this was great fun! We took the bus back to hostel. H and I then played pool, which again was good fun, despite our obvious lack of judgment and concentration! We headed back to our room, me quite sleepy coz of the alcohol. Chamonix was the first place where all of us were in the same dorm. After chatting for a while, I turned in at 12 30 am or so. Irritatingly for me, H and Minu were chatting right across from my bed.

After a sleep punctuated by short gaps of “Shh…” we had to wake up early, taking the early morning train from Chamonix to Lyon. We had a short 1 hr 20 min or so gap at Lyon before our connection to Marseille. After packing some lunch from Subway, I went for a short walk around the station. I moved from the back of the station, from a blatantly office district, from under a under-rail bridge into the main Lyon downtown. Without any particular plans I entered ‘Carrefour’ the famous mall chain that I happened to spot. There were plenty of ‘Soldes’ (Sales) on, despite which, the prices were mostly unaffordable to me. I found a shop selling 3 euro tee shirts, but still I got a feeling that the cost should have been 2 euros each, and I did not buy anything. :P

People and cities

Paris is perhaps the most beautiful city on earth. It has so many monuments by the French, who are great lovers of art. As I said before, every building is a postcard of its own, having its own history. The French are also very proud people, and do not like it when you talk to them in English. At times, I also found them plain rude – they will tell you they do not know English even they do! Being proud is good, but the French pride borders on arrogance. It seems they are proud of their history, much like the Indians like talking about Vedas, and ancient glory. It is high time that France woke up to the new world order, where they are not the rulers of the world. They would do well to remember that they had their asses saved by the Americans when Hitler was in town. De Gaulle himself sounds more of an opportunist rather than the great leader he is made out to be.

I may be wrong on this count coz of my lack of reading on French history, but this is the opinion that I have formed till now.

The French are more the painters, the artists, the connoisseurs than engineers, fighters or anything dashing. They have had their moments in the limelight when Napoleon was the emperor. They would do better to wake up to the new world. However, their architecture, museums are definitely worth admiring. Also at one level, I hope that Indians learn to be proud of themselves, their country, and what they can do, (rather than the pride at their history and mythology). India still has not completely shaken off its colonial yoke of her back.

Germans on the other hand are technical people, and like you would expect them to be, their systems work like clockwork. To give an example: all trams in Bremen were accurate to the minute, unlike Paris. Also all of them were functional. In the two days in Paris, our metro stopped a stop before its intended destination, and once we had to run to the TGV station to board our train in time coz of this. Also, all announcements are in French. In a city like Paris, bustling with tourists, you would expect the announcers to be bilingual. Ticket vendors, tourist info centres, lack proper English speakers, people at best can talk broken English. Irritating.

I found the Netherlands much like India. It’s got a huge population density, like India, and traffic signals are taken to be suggestions rather than rules by the public!

Paris II - the most hectic day on the trip!

Next morning, all the others went to get the Free Tour of Paris, while I headed to the Musee D’ Orsay – the French National Museum – which houses French painting and sculpture from 1840s to 1910s. Again, needless to say, I was visiting it for Van Gogh. It also houses his French contemporaries, including his friend Gauguin, Renoir, Monet, Pissarro etc. Gauguin’s art comes a bit close to Van Gogh, but is nowhere as near to him. There was also Neo-Impressionist art, which is the evolving of Impressionism into an exact science, with studies made into the effect of putting opposite colors into the same frame, so as to accentuate the effect. I loved that too.

Due to the lack of time, I left the Orsay without visiting the first two floors – the sculptures. I headed from there to the Palace de Louvre, home to the famous museum. I joined here, the free tour which the others were taking. We walked along the famous 7km long road in Paris, which is the most interestin part of Paris. We saw no less than 8 different palaces, the Eiffel, the Arc de Troimphe, the Obelisk from Egypt, the Grand Palais and the Petit Palais, the cathedral at Sacre Monte etc. Totally worth it! We then headed to the Eiffel Tower – which he had not gone up – at 4 30. After a short wait, we were on the elevator to the top. And it was a breathtaking view on offer! We could see Paris from end to end, all of its glory, from a height of 58 stories! A tip: Carry your woolens to the top! Its real cold up there. Brr!

Tired as we were, we straggled up to the Louvre, and forced ourself into it, to see the one thing we knew inside, the Mona Lisa. Friday evenings offer a free entry to students, and that was the deciding factor for the visit. I also managed to crawl and see a few Greek, Roman, Carthage-ian sculpture. I saw a few Renaissance furniture too, before it was closing time. I must say that I could relate more to the Orsay than to the Louvre. Again, it must be said that it is huge, and probably impossible to see the entire museum with anything less than 3 days in hand.

On the way back to the hostel, we took the wrong metro, had to get off, and climb on another one back, and we were as dead as logs by the time we reached the hostel. We had to leave early next morning, and we did not even bother to look at the directions to the next hostel, which then caused a lot of pain in Chamonix.