65. Ow is that, monsieur!

I have come to realize that my connection with the French goes beyond the gust of wind and the burst of fire, the proverbial reference to the deadly Mirage and the destructive Rafale. Perhaps, fashion and wines have better claim to the country's identity than its controversial defence deals. Even heroin smuggling from Turkey to Canada via France from 1930's through 70's dubbed 'The French Connection' has long been consigned to history. The country is now more proud of its perfumes and the Eiffel.  

For me, it doesn't end at just that. The stubble I support on my chin is called a French Cut, the widely accepted facial definition of being a suave man. It is one generic stuff that one can improvise to trim stubble to suit different face cuts for getting a dapper dude look. What's more, the French have been generous enough not to draw any patents on it. That the cut will inspire lingerie makers to invent French-cut panties is not easy for me to fathom. Not sure if they invented it but there is no denial by the French on it as yet!   

What surprises me most is the fact that quite a few things attributed to being 'French' have no French connection whatsoever. My order for a plate of French fries in a cafe in downtown Montpelier in south France had many eyebrows raised. 'There is no such thing as French fries'. Perhaps an attribution to the potatoes they didn't ever fry, I imagine! The story goes that stationed in Belgium during World War I, the American soldiers named it so after finding the French-speaking Belgian soldiers savoring it.

As you rightly guessed, next on my check list was to look around for a French toast. Surprisingly, it remained as elusive as the French-fries though back home roadside eateries whip it out in a flash. But why don't the French? Simply put, this sweet snack popular across the world has no French-connection. Traced back for its origin to the Roman Empire, the toast recipe seemed to have traveled with the early English settlers to America during the 17th century. And, it has been popular as a French recipe ever since!

I'm not done yet on my French connections. The cricket we play today is an English creation, but I can't forget having played French cricket as a child. Using one's legs as wickets and to protect them with a bat remains a fascinating challenge to fend every ball thrown at you from a number of players encircling the batter. Although historical records do indicate that a primitive form of 'criquet' did originate in France, the French are not making any serious claims on it. I wonder why aren't they claiming what is genuinely theirs?

Why should they when everything else is coming their way, anyway? Curiously, the etymology of the sensual oral technique is grounded in English but it is known the world over as 'French kiss'. 'Is that genuinely French?' I queried a French. When it comes to passionate romantic matters, the French are no shrinking violets. They seem to own every second of that deep-mouth exploration. Who else but the French alone could introduce such adventurism to the world! 'Ow is that, monsieur!'      

I'm done with my French connections. It's over to you!    

First published in Deccan Herald, issue dated Dec 26, 2020.

64. You are cordially not invited

Let it remain an intimate affair!

Much has changed since the faceless virus vitiated all civic life. Even the 'made in  heaven' tag couldn't save marriages from losing its sheen, with most guests falling under 'you are cordially not invited' list. A crash of $50 billion marriage market is the net outcome as marriages become sanitized affair with restrictions on regalia. The sky of uncertainty has fallen upon the age-old institution of marriage which continues to hold the divine tag ‘les mariages se font au ciel' proclaimed in France during early 16th century.
   
Even though the virus continues to pose an existential threat, the divine angle continues to pop up for good reasons. How else can it be explained that two people desperate for each other end up in different nuptial knots, and the other two unknown to each other exchange marriage vows? It is as trivial as it gets, with no easy answers. Ask those who could not tie the desired knot, and they will tell you in chorus that if some day they were to meet the person behind the divine proverb, they would try to get him/her for felony. 

Taking a potshot on the divinity angle, Hollywood legend Clint Eastwood had once quipped 'if marriages are made in heaven, so is thunder and lightning.' The virus has indeed struck like a lightning thunder. What matters at this stage is the manner in which families have worked past this unexpected thunder to forge safe alliances. Everything becomes negative if one of the couples or the family were to test positive! Trade-off between matrimonial compatibility was never so uncanny.

Marriages have now become more intimate and closed affairs, and for good reasons too. Come to think of it, the so-called social sanction alone had transformed marriages into big fat extravagant and wasteful. The turnaround has been dramatic with this being the best time for marriages though, as these events have less of 'market' in them, making them slim and smaller, frugal and sparing. Don't get me wrong if I say that the virus has inadvertently reinforced the often ignored fact that overt monetization had indeed transformed this pious activity for stitching new relationships into a market place for bargaining alliances. 

This had to change, and I am glad it has at least been forced to change. The trend of big-fat weddings set by the upper echelons of the society has been getting to the bottom billions, to emulate at enormous costs. On my visit to the US couple of months before the virus had unleashed its terror, an Indian graduate student had unabashedly told me that investment on his foreign education was sure to earn his parents back home dividends in the matrimonial marketplace. The impact of such trend on this cultural activity has been shocking, and obnoxiously too deep rooted.  

Had the dreaded virus arrived a year too early, it could have helped me plan an intimate and frugal wedding for my ward. For all those family members and friends who now sing paeans on the virus-induced lockdown and subsequent restrictions having cleaned the air and cleared the rivers had paid little heed to my humble plea on saving colossal personal and public resources during that wedding, or any other for that matter. Why control over how we spend our monies guarantee us unequivocal rights over common pool of resources? I continue to wonder why wasted food, splurged water and fouled air during weddings didn't count?  

Not sure how long will this newfound compulsion of frugal marriages may last. It will be unfortunate should this compulsive behavior not gain currency for frugality becoming the new normal for all future matrimonial alliances. I would expect prospective candidates to commit it online and offline, over and above their so-called class and status. The fear of virus is unlikely to lose potency in keeping the guests cordially uninvited. For once, be wary if you get cordially invited. Else, celebrate!

First published as a Times of India blog on Aug 27, 2020.   

63. The sorry state of apology

'You always say 'sorry', you better 'apologise' now!  

When you desperately seek it, it rarely comes your way. And when you don't, it flows like beer from a pitcher. Still at other times, you may not even notice when someone brushes past you while exclaiming 'sorry'. Not sure if it is a new form of greetings that we have yet to get used to, but it has come to mean that way. However, what surprises me most is the glaring omission by those who are liberal in saying sorry even when they sneeze but refuse to apologise when they hit a car. 

When in linguistic history apology and sorry became synonyms is beyond me, but I do know that apology has its origin in Greek and sorry comes from English. It's transition to English is conveniently attributed to Shakespeare as he was renowned as a creator/user of new words. Even if it isn't so, let's stay put with this explanation for now to let me conclude somewhat reluctantly that tendering an apology is a formal expression of admitting wrongdoing while sorry carries an informal tag of not admitting anything, meaning that I'm sorry for not doing it while you may think otherwise! 

I am not intending this as a piece of whataboutery, but trying to understand the trade-off that makes an apology such a keenly contested idea. No wonder, every so often a case of seeking an apology grabs news headlines and engages eyeballs on television, making heavy weather of not-so-ominous clouds. Although one would expect a well-turned and ingenuous-seeming apology to put a difficult issue to rest, in reality given its tactical nature none of the contesting parties is ever willing to go on back foot to rest the initiative. One is often reminded of Gandhi who would take moral high ground in such matters.

Whatever be at stake, experience shows that the possibility of getting an apology always remains remote. As I have understood, part of the problem is that no matter how heartfelt an apology gets tendered, there is a lack of genuine forgiveness at the recipient's end. With this being more often the case who would volunteer to make oneself vulnerable, be it the case of a court seeking apology for a contempt proceeding or a neighbour demanding regret for defaming his propriety,   

One reason people don't easily apologise has to do with psychological benefits of choosing not to apologize. Social psychologists have found that those who refuse to express remorse show signs of greater self-esteem, increased feelings of power and integrity. No wonder, it is easy to demand an apology than to deliver one. Even if it doesn't propel any such signs, refusing to apologise will at least ensure that in subsequent events of the kind it will not be held as evidence that you admit liability too soon. Apologies make tricky affairs!  

Tricky for sure but I think the word apology itself has been misunderstood. Even Plato, while presenting the Apology of Socrates, recorded it as a speech of legal self-defence at the trial of Socrates, and not an explanation of how Socrates admitted his transgressions. It is for this reason people don't tender an apology that easily because it is understood as 'something said or written in defense or justification of what appears to others to be wrong or of what may be liable to disapprobation'.

An apology could be a complicated matter, and it indeed is. Since childhood we have known that words once uttered can't be taken back, then how can an apology turn things the other way round? Given that an apology can get overstretched on the length and breadth of the internet, political strategists talk about the need to 'get ahead of' an issue. Given it is complicated, it is high time it is clear how the word 'apology' ought to be understood. Else, we will only end up feeling 'sorry' for it.   

62. For now, it is a question of answers

Any question? Keep it to yourself!

For once, this pandemic has forced all of us to be different, to seek answers and only answers on how to confront, control, and get over the dreadful virus. No one seems to be asking questions anymore, but everyone is waiting for a universal answer. All questions about its origin are painfully getting buried with those who unfortunately have succumbed to it.  Don't get me wrong if I may say that the conventional human trait of asking questions seems to have taken a backseat as the virus lurks around.
                   
To say that 'not to question is the question' does not provide any answer on our collective plight. Humans have always been in the habit of asking questions but rarely does anyone like to be questioned? Check this out! Students quibble on being questioned; teenagers resent probing wards; employees grudge questioning bosses and so on........because a question creates a situation when otherwise sensible people get temporarily stumped, feeling let down and somewhat insecure of themselves at that moment. The one being questioned can hardly escape being its victim, though.  

Given the present scenario, I wonder if we are not being rewired 'not to ask questions'? No one could be sure, but it may do a world of good for most of us should it were to happen. However, I have learnt that humans have not always been asking questions. Evolutionary biologists contend that humans were not born with this unique ability to ask questions, it was a cognitive add-on during the first millennium of human evolution. And once onto it, there hasn't been any looking back since then as the  psychological vantage to assert supremacy by asking questions gained social currency across all cultures. 

Many of you would want to question the evolutionary hypothesis but experience has shown that answers have always pre-existed questions at any time. In fact, I would imagine that it is the presence of 'answers' that gives rise to 'questions' in the first place. Whether to your satisfaction or not, more than one answer has always been there because a question alone can't survive. For every ying there ought to be a yang around. It is always two to a tango!  So, for any question on the anvil an answer is always discreetly around somewhere, for sure. 

If answers are lying scattered all round, should we not be searching for answers only? This is precisely what all of us are currently engaged in, seeking answers to finding a way of living life like never before, as there are not many who would care to address our questions. We all have to find our own answers. Sans questions, life is sure to ease out for teenagers, husbands, employees, bureaucrats and even politicians. The virus seems to be giving us an evolutionary back kick!   

Thank the faceless virus for masking us from the vice of asking questions. The only question we will still be asking is 'how are you', because it has an answer embedded in it.

First published in The Times of India on July 1, 2020. 

61. Geography of a rare encounter

The Incredible Col. Rinchen

Is there anything other than people, places and proceedings, in isolation or in combination, that plays on our memory? Perhaps, not. And, within each of these combinations are embedded stories and sub-stories. I recall one such from my first trip to picturesque cold desert town of Leh, which was considered incomplete without meeting Col. Chewang Rinchen, the living legend who had won the coveted Maha Vir Chakra (MVC) twice during his active military service, for his dare devilry during Sino-India and Indo-Pak wars. What is more, he bagged his first MVC at a young age of 17 - then and even now a rare feat! Small in gait but firm in built, Rinchen was compact and swift as a ‘desert goat’ in negotiating steep slopes and deep gorges in the high altitude cold desert. A ‘desert fox’ would have been an apt nickname for him, had it not been assigned to German General Rommel during the second World War.

Retired from active service in 1984 but served as Honorary Colonel of the Ladakh Scouts for the rest of his life, Rinchen had hair-splitting encounters to share with us as we sat on his first floor living room above an upmarket restaurant he used to own in Leh. One such encounter with the enemy in taking control of the strategic outpost of Turtuk during 1971 Indo-Pak war was worth mentioning. Engaged with the enemy in dreadful hand-to-hand combat through the night, it had shocked Rinchen at dawn that the enemy he killed was twice his size, an imposing six foot plus Pathan. It still sends shivers down his spine, as his expressions revived a long-dealt fear factor.

Rinchen had an image larger than his short frame, every new military commander to the region would consider an honor to meet the legend first. Rinchen had most memorable meeting  with Field Marshal Sam Manekshaw in a military party. While Introducing the most decorated living soldier, Manekshaw was accosted by an unusual question from his wife ‘what were you doing when this young officer was winning honors for the country?’ Known for his raw humor, the Field Marshal was uninhibited in his response ‘sleeping with you dear!’ It not only needs courage to laugh at oneself, but make others join in the process too. In highlighting human vulnerabilities, Sam's humor in uniform had portrayed the lighter side to a rather tough life.

Rinchen lived his life to the fullest, considered an inspiration for youth in the region. At an altitude of 14,650 feet in Ladakh, a 1400-ft-long bridge on Shyok River now stands in his memory although he fought battles at much higher altitudes. To me, the bridge is a testimony to his never say die approach to life. It reflected in all that he would do, I recall how despite being wavering under the influence of few pegs of drink, the incredible officer had driven us to our hotel after hosting a dinner for us. We may have been scared, but not him. Even in those small and insignificant moments his firm resolve would come to the fore - 'you only live once' he would assert! 

Days are meant to be gone, and so were those days. For those who visit Leh these days, a statue of Col. Rinchen at a public roundabout is all that is a reminder of the deeds of this valiant officer, and a gentleman. But I continue to cherish meeting the incredible soldier with awe and inspiration, because it is a sheer chance that the geography of a place creates sociology of a rare encounter. 

60. Connecting the celluloid dots

Ranjha Raaj Kumar in the backdrop of Dhauladhar mountains. 

In times of the pandemic threat which seems not too distant in future but uncertain nonetheless, reliving nostalgic moments provide much desired comfort. These are the times when indulging in nostalgia helps revive feelings, a kind of matter or some kind of energy that can destroy or cripple present melancholic moments. It is the involuntary unlocking of those eventful moments that allow trapped energy to spring back to life, giving fresh chance to revisit and reprocess life differently.

When going to theatre was a rarity, watching one-movie-per-week was a kind of God-send privilege. Thanks to my father tasked with running the cantonment theatre in picturesque Palampur town in the lap of majestic Dhauladhar mountains, learning the supply-chain of film distribution and screening came handy each week as aluminium cans carrying film spools arrived by road from rail head at Pathankot. Four such spools were glued in a sequence to run the film in four-segments, with three intermissions, on a single towering Westrex projector. 

A message on now obsolete telex machines would convey film title in advance, helping in drawing a screening schedule for the troops. One such highly clobbered message had thrown life in a tizzy as nobody could figure out the film title. Given my interest in films, the onerous task of decoding the title was bestowed on my young shoulders. Playing around with the words on offer in the message I had confidently pronounced the title 'Banke Bihari'. Embarrassingly, the first screening revealed it to be a 1969 film Bank Robbery instead. I had to live with that indignation for long.

Palampur had turned out to be poor-filmmakers' Kashmir, a perfect place to capture wide brush impressions on film making. Hailing from a nearby village, filmmaker Jugal Kishore had captured the scenic beauty of the place in most of his two dozen odd low-budget films. An award-winning producer of Punjabi films, he would descend every alternate spring with hordes of newcomers for outdoor shooting of his Hindi films. Bunking classes to throng the shooting location was preferred but somewhat boring pass time as a perfect shot would takes days to complete. But it didn't deter newcomers like Shatrughan Sinha, Anil Dhawan, and Yogita Bali from throwing star tantrums. 

Such tantrums must have been an ordeal for small-time filmmakers!. So it were for Jugal Kishore which only compelled him to make some serious compromises with the script. Taking liberties, he repeated his motorcycle dare devil sequence from Lal Bangla in his subsequent film Munimji. That had mattered least to the locals who often read his rags-to-riches story like a film script only. From among us a non-descript youngster is rubbing shoulders with the bold and the beautiful in the mad-bad world of film making was an oft-repeated adage to define this little-known film maker.   

No wonder, local support was to his calling. However, such favors did carry some intangible costs. I recall one such sequence, perhaps from film Munimji, wherein a villainous character was pushed into a small pool of water with the hero in verbal dual from the outside. The pampered lad of the local MLA, who also owned a tea estate, had insisted on being in the pool, and after long deliberations was let in with clear instructions to swim at a distance from the character. After the film release, the boy had become a laugh-of-the-town as his skill in swimming was nowhere seen on the screen.

              

For me, conversing with supporting actors was more meaningful. Relaxing on an easy chair under a garden umbrella for his shot, I had expressed my surprise at him (to actor Chandrasekhar) playing the lowly role of a police inspector in Sabak after having played the lead in many films including Street Singer. Flabbergasted, the actor had questioned my interest in such vintage stuff. My one- movie-a-week schedule was loaded with some old and many forgettable movies, I had told him. Now in his late 90's, Chandrasekhar had changed tracks subsequent to his acting career to assist Gulzar in the making of classics like Parichay, Aandhi and Mausam.   

Towards the end of the 1970's, Chetan Anand had descended with his Heer Ranjha troupe to Palampur to shoot just a verse from Kaifi Azmi's lyrics on a Madan Mohan composition to be rendered on screen by iconic Raaj Kumar - ae parbat rasta de mujhe ae kaanto daman chhod do. Such perfectionist was the eldest of the illustrious Anands, Dev and Vijay Anand being the other two, that it took almost a week to shoot the verse from one of the finest melancholic renditions by Mohd. Rafi. Those were the days, and perhaps the last of the major outdoor shooting schedule around Palampur.     

That place is no longer the favorite location for present-day filmmakers. But those years had impacted my sensibilities a great deal, letting my interest in studying various aspects of film-making flourish no end. What was then an interesting exercise to learn is today just a click away on any smart phone. As I relive those moments during the ongoing lockdown, I find my past connected to the present through aspects of film appreciation which has continued to this day -  in viewing, reading and commenting on films. It is no more a boring pass time, but a compelling engagement now!

First published in The Hindu, issue dated May 10, 2020.

59. Itna sannata kyon hai bhai?

'Why is there such a silence, O brother'
(A K Hangal as 'Imam' in 'Sholay')

During these corona time when all of us are forced into locked seclusion I wonder how would anyone respond to Imam Saab's innocent query itna sannata kyon hai bhai? Come on, don't ask me what sense does it make to respond to an innocent query raised decades ago on screen, in blockbuster Sholay. The unprecedented sannata leaves the blind old man baffled, wondering why human relations snap during such testing times? Ever the chirpy chatter Basanti is nowhere around. 

Once a hub of cultural activities, village Ramgarh today bears a desolate look. But for stray cattle and wandering chickens, the eerie silence enforced by a complete lock down had shocked the trio who brought back a sack of mixed emotions filled instead with thankfulness to the villagers. Despite social recession staring at him, Gabbar had gathered courage to thunder: kitne aadmi thay. The Kalia-led trio could only heave a sigh of relief saying sab bachh gaye saale. 

The iconic writer duo Salim-Javed deserve credit for giving us a quintessential script, which without losing any bit on its incredible popularity has only helped hone abilities of many like me to obfuscate comic relief out from it.  So flexible is the script that one can rephrase it despite its engrossing storyline being largely impregnable. Not without reason has the explosive script with its stunning characters outlived its screen presence, almost a folklore of sorts. 

As a vast majority recoils in horror, my cavalier approach instead has been to construct comic moments out from the script and multiply them faster than the virus. Thank goodness, Gabbar neither sneezes nor shakes hands. In fact, he has been averse to people with strong hands. No one else knew it better than the irresistible Thakur who was not only relieved of his two limbs, but spared from compulsive hand washing too. To kill a social vermin, however, feet worked better than hands! 

With life patterns thrown out of gear, an expansion of mental bandwidth to transform challenges into possibilities only springs hope. Aren't most of us hopeful like Thakur? Else, why do we go without reservation to our preferred restaurant on a saturday night with the hope of finding a table? As we all struggle against a sagging economy and sinking emotions, search for comic relief holds promise of staying sane in this emerging theatre of the absurd. Loneliness for once is a forced virtue!

As we all brace to confront the dreaded virus, ab aayega mazaa should echo our collective resolve to settle the scores. Nothing less than Viru's war cry chun chun ke maroonga will help in winning it over. Till such time, we all need to learn to live like Tom Hanks in Cast Away, who survived four years stranded on a remote island with only a volleyball. Social isolation does take a toll on humans though, but do we need to be reminded that jo darr gaya samjho mar gaya?  

(This write-up is inspired by many of the characters and dialogues from the Bollywood film 'Sholay').

First published in The Times of India, Mar 26, 2020.

58. Life starts with everyone clapping

The pun in his remark got me clapping involuntarily. Wonder, how else could anyone react to famous rapper and Grammy winner Jay-Z holding former US President Bill Clinton as the ultimate rock star, "people clap in a restaurant when he finishes dinner." And, he didn't stop at just that and added "I don't get that treatment. I get it when I walk onstage, but not when I have dinner." There is not much to read into it other than the fact that anything that induces clapping should be worth a cause. And, I mean it!  

I say so because I find clapping doing more than what it may have been known for.  You find people clapping in the park; yoga teachers induce clapping as an essential step; and acupressure technique counts on clapping to trigger a healthy body response. As old as human existence, clapping both hands is more than what we might ever consider it to be.  It is clearly more than a standard civic gesture to attract attention; to celebrate success; and to express admiration - as a sign of approval.  

Clapping gives an adrenaline boost to the one who gets the cheers, be it enforced at a political rally or voluntary during a public performance. Any which way, the reaction of the public plays a very important role. But it works the other way round too! Don't you recall deliberate clapping that has been often pressed to pull down a bad speaker or woo a poor performance - as an act of disapproval, Both ways, it holds immense value as a distinct means of communication that is race and creed neutral. 

It goes beyond, and my sense is that it is the musical aspect of clapping that has often been underrated. Be it classical or western music, clapping has been tried as an interesting musical interlude. While it is somewhat organic to qawali, in other genre it has emerged as a creative aspect that few music composers have been able to master with finesse. Who can forget several such compositions by noted musician O P Nayyar who had turned clapping as his signature tune for numerous Bollywood songs from the 50's through 70's. 

Clapping is after all the most common sound that we, as humans, have been using without our voice chords. Need it be said that clapping with hands is the first act that all of us have learnt as a child, with our parents encouraging us to persist with it during our formative years. However, it is only in later years that we become conservative in the use of clapping as a social gesture. Don't we? No wonder, we now find claquers filling the gaps in radio programs and television shows. Why clap when one could be paid to do so? 

But clapping must merit as a means of self-amplification for a healthy existence. If not for anything else, the signature clap of the transgender helps them stay fit. Mark my words, it is acupressure at work in each clap. Else, they wouldn't have been as fit. Have you ever seen a transgender with a weak eyesight, if I may ask! 

First published in Deccan Herald, issue dated July 22, 2020.