Sunday, August 29, 2010

Bam-bai: the year that was

Alright. Since I ranted on so much when I moved to Mumbai, it’s only fair that I evaluate and record my thoughts about this hard-to-ignore city now that I have decided to leave it.

One year and my perception remains the same (not!). Have I resigned myself to the unacceptable filth and the sheer number of people the place holds? Not really. Have I acquired the Mumbaikar trait of ignoring all this and getting on with things with the nothing-can-daunt-me attitude? Sort of. Am I going to miss the place?

....

The happy outcome is I don’t at all regret moving to this city. It’s clichéd to say Mumbai is an experience. But only because it’s true. There is no other Indian city that I could have moved to which would have exposed me to a life and lifestyle that was quite a bit different from the one I was used to in my home town of Bangalore.

Delhi is not an option, for obvious reasons (forgive me all ye Dilli loyals), Hyderabad and Chennai aren’t much different from Bangalore, Calcutta – let me not dwell on the other aspects, to start with I wouldn’t have found employment in the city. So Mumbai it was. Once you live in Mumbai, you obviously realise you are not the only one to have made this evaluation of the most eligible city. And that accounts for the hordes and hordes of people, most whom live in the most unimaginable conditions.

Which logically begs the question – why do people do it? Hang precariously from the locals, travel for up to two hours one way to get to work, live in dingy, one room houses in shockingly unhygienic environs? What’s in it for them?

Money money money money and money. The financial independence this city offers, irrespective of the nature of your job, is truly one of its kind. No matter how destitute you are, Mumbai holds the promise of a livelihood for one, for all. It’s arguably the richest city in India, after all.

And not to forget the physical security one enjoys, in addition to the financial one. Unless you have allegiances to the famous world that is under, Mumbai is safer than most cosmopolitan cities. People have no qualms about plonking themselves on the side of desolate streets and camping the night or travelling from “town” to their suburban homes located hours away at any given time of the day or night.

But funnily enough, the city never promises you permanence. Everything is make shift – your home, your grocery store, you laundry wallah and even your job and favourite pub. Things appear and disappear before you bat an eyelid. And that could very well be true of the island of Mumbai itself which hangs precariously amid the sea.

And the biggest advantage of living in a populous city like Mumbai is every locality is self sufficient. A Thanekar has no necessity to visit Bandra unless s/he wants to and a Bandra resident never needs to go to Colaba, unless of course Mondegar calls.

So, in case you haven’t picked up on the signs, my locality is Bandra, most recently that is. I completely loved living here and of course I’m going to miss it sorely. The sheer accessibility of it all – pharmacist, grocer, laundry on call, tons of restaurants and bars lined up with NO deadlines, autos at 1 AM that bring you home for 12-15 bucks and the freedom to wear what you like without drawing attention – oh how I shall miss it all, especially in Bangalore. Much as I love my city, the deadline sure as hell has screwed it up. And of course the autorickshaw guys there are running a cartel.

Sigh....

Now for things I will NOT miss.

FILTH. That comes from the stark poverty you see within five minutes of where ever you are, no matter how swanky the location. And the way it shames you. The sheer economic divide that only seems to be getting worse. People are enticed by Mumbai, they arrive and are willing to do all sorts of menial jobs. So you have real estate being sold at criminal prices while make shift tin homes continue to balloon within 100 feet of the swish apartments.

The WEATHER. Hell, no! That will not be missed! No more fungus growing on your leather bags and jeans.

The TRAFFIC. It’s much worse than Bangalore.

The RENT. I can live like a princess in Bangalore for the amount of money I’m paying to live in Pali Hill.

So there, a fair picture of this insane city. I have learnt a lot from this place, that’s for sure. A silly little jam on Koramangala ring road during rains is not going to be enough to upset me anymore. When you have to be at work by 8 AM no matter how hard it pours and walk back all the way home from work because it'll save you time, you really get on with life. Mumbai has changed my perspective for the better and it’s given me the confidence of being able to survive in any other place!

And since the city has the knack of inspiring extreme emotions, nothing I have said is something that has not been said before. But here’s my love-hate relationship with this city for posterity.

Thursday, July 01, 2010

Of late only minor shocks have been inspiring me to write. Not complaining - I could do with any kind of inspiration right now, honestly.

Anyway, it was just another day at the gym last evening when I was chit-chatting (yes, I do that from time to time) with a girl who works out around the same time as I do. Typical getting-to-know-one-and-other conversation until she popped the question:

“Which caste do you belong to?”

Um….I caught myself thinking that this is why I hate chit-chatting. I inhaled and popped right back: “Sorry?”

Bam. The same question again, without batting an eyelid. In all earnestness.

Instead of giving her a piece of my upper caste mind, I told her I belonged to what was considered to be a knowledgeable caste. (I figured I might as well give my caste credit for my expansive knowledge.)

But the real question is what made her ask me that? Why would an educated, aware person (who heads the marketing division in India for a popular international brand, might I add) ask anybody this question? Why indeed? Research, I reckon.

Did she want to make sure I got my caste right in case it is included in the census? Did she have a special list where she told herself that in order to be a secular individual she’d have to befriend a given number of people from all castes, creed and religions?

This has long been a favourite topic of mine. It’s amazing how deep rooted the caste system is in our society. I remember sleeping through most of the social science classes that provided a discourse on this hugely interesting topic. Perhaps that explains my amazement.

Nevertheless, the frequent naps in school notwithstanding, I did manage to understand somewhat that this is a big deal in this country. And like all other “educated” people, I blamed the lack of education for the continued existence of this virtue.

But is that it? Does being educated equate to being free of prejudices? Of course, the educated “class” is far too wise to be that naïve. So why is it still the excuse we use most often?

Just look around you. All of us have prejudices. We all discriminate. But I also think that despite the variety of prejudices, there are some things which are just not acceptable to the majority of the people.

My point is caste doesn’t figure in that list. Despite the shameful history India has when it comes to caste and the fanaticism it generates, educated people too are shackled by it. It’s so commonplace that it doesn’t shock anybody.

The only time people acknowledge it is when the dreaded word reservation crops up (which is once in three to four years, close to or soon after a major election). Parents want to know what caste their kids are marrying into; hell, even school applications require you to mention it. It’s all part of the process.

So are we alright with the process? Should we pause to think why it is still a part of our lives? Or think what we need to do to make sure it isn’t a part of our lives?

On cynical days I tell myself, this is India, what do you expect? On brainstorming days, I think the generations that have already got caste into their system should undergo selective lobotomy (Eternal Sunshine Of The Spotless Mind style) so there is no way we can pass on this toxic information to the next generation.

On realistic days, I feel that regardless of the fact that this is India, it has a sizeable population with brains that are largely in working condition and cross my fingers and hope that they will be put to use.

But today is brainstorming day.

Monday, March 15, 2010

Twitter, Blogger and Me

It's a curious observation I made today. My tweeting ability is inversely proportional to my blogging one. I see that ever since I became active on Twitter, I've not blogged AT ALL. Come to think of it, I wonder now that it took me so long to deduce something so logical. When one is trying to condition one's brain to a character limit, it's hardly surprising that the ability to express eloquently is stunted.

At the risk of equating eloquence to depth and lucidity, I can (speaking for myself) say that in my attempt to tweet, I've lost my ability to play around with words and think beyond five lines. It's quite sad actually because I love writing! If you asked me the reason behind why I chose my profession, I could wax eloquent... now I'd probably just say, I love writing, and smile.

But is that enough? Has expressing yourself, discussing an issue or voicing your opinion in more than 200 words really become so redundant? As journalists, we are taught early on in our careers that if you cannot tell your editor what your story is in not more than five lines, you don't have a story. But does saying what the crux of your story is eliminate the need to tell your story altogether?

On gloomier days, I think that is where, we as writers, and a large part of the readers are headed. It's all about sustaining attention after all. If you don't give your reader what s/he wants, then you simply lose the reader. If I can tell you all that I want to in six tweets instead of one blog post, which one would you rather read?

Blogs invariable tend to be lengthy as it is one forum where writers can express themselves freely, which just means that there is no editor breathing down your neck demanding why every word in the sentence is where it is.

But on more optimistic days, I think it's impossible to do away with the "essay" form of writing. That's saying that the newspaper business will be out cold soon. While many people argue that newspapers are redundant with Internet calling the shots, they are still a very significant part of our lives. And while I like seeing the Economist send me tweets about it's latest article, reading a line about what the article is, does not stop me from clicking on the link and reading the story. But it does save me the trouble of going to the Economist website and sifting through all the stories to find something I may wish to read.

The obvious challenge is to make use of both forms of writing to make life easier and free up yourself to write about things you really want to and make it worthwhile for the reader in the process. The other challenge is to stop thinking in tweets, Facebook status messages or blog posts. It makes life infinitely easier if we just go with an open mind and not feel that because an idea is expressed as a tweet, it does not warrant further effort to make something more substantial out of it. I think the set-thinking mode is a trap I fell into.

And lets face it, lethargy rocks! Why bother logging on to your blog and getting your thoughts together when you can shoot it out in two lines and forget about it? Considering that I started this blog post two months ago, believe me when I say it's easy to just let it be.

But, did I not choose to become a journalist because I cared enough to pick up a pen and put it to good use? (Metaphor not withstanding, I did use a pen and paper religiously to write through my college years!) . So anyway, as with the many dramatized ethical dilemmas of my life, this was one to share. Lets see which one gets the better of me.