The Courtesans Of India

According to some the Courtesans of India are the unsung sheroes of the freedom struggle of India though there are no documented mention of their active participation in history.

Almost in line with the Geishas of Japan the Courtesans of India were institutionalized since ancient times in Indian social fabric. They were the product of the feudal patriarchy and thrived on elite and royal patronage.

Written by Shudraka in 2nd Century BCE, the Sanskrit play Mrichhakatika is the story of the beautiful and talented Vasantasena who was a well known and well reputed Ganika or Courtesan.

In 500 BC in the Republic of Vaishali (now in Bihar) was another very well known and well reputed Nagar Vadhu or Royal Courtesan called Amrapali who enjoyed the patronage of none other than the king himself.

Amrapali From Vaishali

The elevation to the stature of Nagar Vadhu from ganika was not easy. The aspirant had to labour hard to perfect the arts and go through stiff competition from other aspirants in the presence of the king to prove her merit and mettle. The one who won was awarded the title of Nagar Vadhu by the king himself.

The Courtesans were well read and well versed in language, literature, poetry, social etiquettes and contemporary politics. They were also poetesses as well as patrons of poets. Enjoying the royal patronage, they were also extremely wealthy and paid huge taxes. Above all, before being introduced in public, they spent years in mastering the art of music and dance. Their years of rigorous, dedicated, disciplined riyaaz (practice) and taaleem (training) made them connoisseurs of art. They also mastered the art of conversation which indicated that they were not only well informed but also conducted themselves with dignity and poise. They enjoyed a special position which was not available to women in general in the then guarded society. In modern parlance, they could very well be termed as professionals in their own right.

Tawaif From Lucknow

The Courtesans prospered in stature under the Mughal rulers. They came to be known as tawaifs in Northern India ( Baijis in Bengal and so on and so forth) who epitomized tameez and tehzeeb, i.e., social manners and culture. It is a recorded fact that scions of royal families were sent to be under their tutelage to learn how to conduct themselves in society and perhaps learn the art of love making too. The tawaifs resided in kothas which were palatial abodes of opulence and grandeur. The kothas were frequented by the patricians and regents of the society where mehfils (soirees) were held every evening and continued till wee hours of the night.

Interestingly, the tawaifs followed a matrilineal system of inheritance passing down from the mother to the daughter which led to sibling squabbles and bequeathment battles.

Kothas were also the electrifying spaces wherein tawaifs reigned like queens. They enjoyed their freedom of choosing their patrons or sometimes consorts, sired their illegitimate offsprings, were privy to secrets of the highest echelons of society and also at times took active part in the palace and political conspiracies to further their and their patron’s vested interests. It is also said that some of them were imbued with the fervour of nationalism and sheltered and monetarily assisted those who rebelled against the East India Company and later the British colonial rule.

In this context, the name of Azeezan Bai who had a prominent role to play in the Mutiny of 1857 against the fast colonizing East India Company comes up. However, Azeezan had an ulterior motive of restoring the reign of the Nawabs so that the kothas could have a sustainable backing in the face of the encroaching colonial rulers and was not exactly driven by the larger perspective of fighting against invasion by the firangis or the Englishmen. Its sadly one of the reasons why the Mutiny stopped short of a revolution – the lack of unity of purpose.

The kothas had strict but unwritten codes of conduct for both the tawaifs and the patrons. Breaking these rules were akin to transgression of spatial sanctity which was not viewed lightly and resulted in punitive actions against either of the Parties including debarment of the patron from entry and subjugation of the errant tawaif through means which could range from corporeal punishment to being temporarily grounded to total ostracization to other more drastic measures. Thus, the guild functioned within the bounds of self codified laws which were difficult to overstep. In a way, the tawaifs were prisoners within the bejeweled cages of riches and glamour. Some espoused this life without having any other alternative for livelihood, some inherited it by birth. But once embraced the option of breaking away from this “embellished bondage” was neither permitted by society nor by the institution. This was the dark side of tawaifhood.

During the era of Mughals, the shaayars or Urdu poets had great fan following amongst tawaifs. In fact, it worked both ways. If a shaayar’s shaayari (poem) was sung or quoted by the tawaif  it augmented the popularity of the poet. Therefore, the poets in a way wanted their poems to be read out or sung in mehfils so that their names and works became known and circulated in the high society thereby making way for garnering acceptance, accolade and patronage.

The kothas had great commercial significance as well as mandis or markets thrived around them and became centres of regular trade and transactions. The footfalls of the community of the rich and famous were perhaps one of the catalytic factors of buoyancy of commerce. Thus, the social, economic and political relevance and significance of the courtesans of India remain an indisputable historical fact though not very properly and widely documented in the annals of history.

However, having said that it is also to be mentioned that though the courtesans were ace and respectable entertainers of their times, which did not have theatres, cinemas and other vehicles of creative expression as of today, there was an unerasable line of demarcation in so far as social sanction and their acceptability in honourable society was concerned. The courtesans were only excellent companions but could not be taken in or included as part of the household. Perhaps it is their availability to a number of patrons, their gender fluidity and sexual freedom which opposed the so called sense of familial honour and respectability of that era.

The British Imperial domination not only brought undivided India under the colonial clasp but also surged the colonies with the sensibilities of Victorian ethics, principles and morality. To add to this the social reformists of the then Indian society, gradually awakening to Western thoughts and concepts, brought in a wave of “chastity for women” which was antithetical to the gender liberties and fluidity celebrated by the courtesans. It is the British who disparaged the tawaifs as “nautch girls of India” and blurred the demarcation between courtesans and prostitutes leading to gradual decimation of the age old tradition. It was during British rule that the kothas came to be defamed as red light areas.

In a great endeavour to adapt to ‘new wage’, some of the erstwhile courtesans leveraged technology and became recorded artists and the first generation of film stars with the decline of tawaifhood. Gauhar Jaan was one of them who earned crores (though she died a pauper) in those times and her voice became a household name. So was Begum Akhtar or Akhtari Bai who is revered even now as the ghazal queen of India. Classical, semi-classical , ghazals and thumris were the forte of the tawaifs. Many aspiring musicians and dancers from respectable families became their shagird or disciples to learn the intricacies and nuances of the various genres of performing arts. The classical Kathak dance of India was nurtured and elevated to a higher form of recital by the tawaifs who were danseuse and maestros in their own rights. Inarguably, the tawaifs were torch bearers of the cultural heritage of the country.

Gauhar Jaan

Begum Akhtar

Heera Mandi or Heera Singh Di Mandi was established in the Shahi Mohalla of the walled city of Lahore (of undivided India) as a grain market in the 1840s by Heera Singh Dogra, son of Dhian Singh Dogra, the trusted general of Maharaja Ranjit Singh, in order to facilitate local economy. It was close to the royal court and housed the courtesans or the queens of Lahore as they were called. Soon Heera Mandi became an important economic centre and the quarters of the tawaifs became more and more popular.

Similarly, Bowbazaar housed the Baijis in Calcutta. The rich Zamindars or Landlords were their patrons. Banaras,  in Uttar Pradesh, was another city known for its gharanas of music and dance. Gharanas can be loosely called the art guilds having their individual style of singing, dancing and playing instrumental music. The gharanas maintained and guarded their respective trade marks and passed them on from the patriarch or matriarch to their offsprings or next of kin. Outsiders were seldom allowed in. The disciples, if they did not happen to be part of the family, had to serve the guru and gain his or her ‘blessings’ to perform in public.

The Dancing Girls Of India

With changing times, the social demography and behaviour have changed. The tawaifs are extinct now. With them has gone the era of kothas and mehfils and mujras (dance recitals), the lighting of shamaas or candles in intricately carved stands during sun down, the sound of ghungroos or anklets which made the nights magical and mesmeric and the parwanas or the patrons who were ready to burn out hovering around the swirling helmlines of the lusty performers.

Baijis Of Bengal

Source :Wikepedia and various articles and posts on internet and social networking sites

Images: Google

An Honest Tribute To Growing Up

I am not into reading autobiographies and biographies. But somehow I knew instinctually that Deepti Naval’s memoire “A Country Called Childhood” will be an excellent read. 

The book covers the growing up years of the veteran  actress in Amritsar, Punjab until the family shifts to America. It also chronicles some of the landmark historical events of that time period  intricately twined with her genealogical trajectory. The exodus from Burma to Calcutta, the Indo-Sine war of 1962, the India-Pakistan war of 1970.

Giving a very honest commentary, the writer refrains from sketching a larger than life persona of herself. Rather, it’s extremely down to earth narration whips up  the fragrances of the 60’s and the 70’s so vigorously that one gets transported in time.

Those who are brought up in the Northern part of the country will enjoy  more  the sights, sounds, colours and thoughts conjugating into familiar visuals. The  simplicity of life,  the little joys nurtured forever, the interception of unhappiness now and then which are humbling and leading to some bigger truths and the conflicting emotions evolving into maturity. 

The authoress lovingly sketches her childhood in a  middle class family, her father’s struggling days, her mother’s talents and quiet sacrifices – a source of constant inspiration and creative growth. Her dream of becoming a Bollywood actress – an unabashed digression from  her familial background deeply entrenched into academics. Her foray into stage performances, dance recitals and choir singing snipped short! Her love for poetry, literature and the canvas – an artist in the making.

Inarguably, the entire narrative is through the eyes of a painter poet. The walled city of Amritsar comes alive – its lanes, bilanes , gullies, mohallas, the maseet (mosque), it’s white dome in the shape of a budding lotus,  the sound of the azaan breaking into dawn, the playing of dholak late unto the night in  mochistaan adjacent to Amravalli – her residence, the big phaatak of the house – a lakshmanrekha for the mochi boys playing danda gulli outside, the cinema halls and tailor’s shop in Bhandari Bazaar – words become pictures of throbbing, vibrant  living!

Deepti’s narration awakens the mochistaan of my memories – a neighborhood where I spent years of dreaming, growing and sedentary living quite oblivious of the hustles and bustles of a world which is to become more and more competitive in days to come.

Though I never had one but I love her new found revelry of cycling days playing with the wind at the same time keeping the rising helm line of the frock in check or the chiffon dupatta within manageable spree. Those were the days of keeping your eyes down and walking past any embarrassment. Those were the days of ‘eve teasing’ and avenging the slight in one’s own way without drawing attention – the elbow crusade!

Her occasional truants from school and  ‘the great escape’  from home comes in sharp contrast to her life full of warmth and care in Amritsar. Taking a night  train  to see Kashmir on her own and getting miraculously saved from the darker experiences of life are an interesting voyage of hidden desires intersected by divine intervention. It’s apparent she is not the one to be bound by routine. She is the one who wishes to soak life in all its shades – glitters and gloom.

I love her adventures of jumping off the school wall, sitting next to the unknown deity and watching the sun shining suffusing the school building with varied shades of ochre. I love her thirst for journeying unto the unseen, the unbefriended on a bullock cart lying on a haystack , the breeze on her face, the old sardar driving the cart has a knowing smile allowing her to trespass and dropping her off at the Punjab Roadways bus stop while waiting quietly for her to make a safe journey back home. I find myself in her the only difference being I was never able to cross the line of bondage unto freedom. That was my making. I remained chained lifelong!!

“A Country Called Childhood” triggers nostalgia. It makes you relive your past, revisit your roots and pine for those days which are now history. Written with lot of heart it’s a book to be savoured. There are pages where the past gets infused with the present. To captivate memories Deepti lets passages of essays and anecdotes imaginatively intrude into the narrative perhaps deliberately intermingling facts with fancies.

A lingual treat the narrative is a novel intermix of Hindi, Urdu, Punjabi and Indian English – the language of the soil. It is never too colloquial nor too prosaic.

After a long time here is a book which satiates  literary thirst and tickles reveries into something which is not given to banishment by time.

A classic for the keeps.

Shared on Mouthshut.com and Goodreads

Netflix-ing

Although I have reduced  screen time considerably and binge watch sparsely I managed to watch a few movies/web series in the meanwhile.

1. Mrs. Harris Goes To Paris (2022 Movie)

A feel good movie wherein Ada Harris, a war widow and a cleaning woman by profession , dares to chase her dream of owning a Christian Dior haute couture dress she falls in love with. Though socially it’s not her stature to own one but her dogged perseverance, in the long run, results in opening out Dior to the masses.

Great story line but the only hitch being Ada turning into a messiah for the employees of Dior on strike to the tongue tied lover/accountant Fauvel and the bored model  Natasha and also the conservative Mrs. Colbert who is the second in command at Dior. Too many garments to mend for Ada. Ain’t it?

2. The Gentlemen (2024 – Web Series)

Edward (Eddie) Horniman, the younger son of the Duke of Halstead is surprised to inherit the property from his father. On death bed  his father extracts a promise from Eddie  to take care of his elder brother, Frederick ( Freddie), who is the black sheep of the family and habituated to get embroiled into  one  scrape or  the other. Freddie has also not taken kindly to this deviation from  age old family tradition whereupon the inheritance automatically passes on to the elder son. He is submerged in debt. The debtors are dangerous people. Eddie has to rescue his brother before the goons catch hold of him.

But there’s more to resolve when Eddie comes to know the property is being misused by drug dealers to run an underground operation of cultivation, refinement and transportation of cannabis. The clandestine business is going on for years with his father’s consent whereby the deceased Duke is to earn a hefty sum annually.

Eddie weaves an intricate plot to oust the criminals off his estate. But before cleansing the property he has to take care of a murder, ruthless drug lords and the hawk-like Mr. Stanley Johnstone who is hell bent on laying his hands on the grounds. Eddie is a soldier and an aristocrat – a true gentleman –  who is oath bound to his father to save the family name. The antidote to poison is poison itself. In order to prevent further insurgency, Eddie has to take the help of Lisa, the daughter of the drug don,  who is operating the business on behalf of her father, a jailbird,  at present.

To decriminalize it is imperative to understand the tricks of the trade itself. As is customary , Eddie finds himself inextricably enmeshed in the power game of the underworld so much so that the status quo of greed, gore and lust starts to appear more and more lucrative. Inspite of himself, it is as clear as broad daylight that he is cut out for the vengeful trade itself.

I would have been happier if Eddie were to prove otherwise.

3. Maamla Legal Hai ( It’s A Legal Matter 2024 – Web Series)

If you happen to visit Patparganj Sessions Court, you will meet accomplished negotiators ( Sujata Negi),  Court Assistant (Vishwas) who is infatuated with a “principled” lawyer looking for a break (Ananya Shroff) ,  sundry lawyers who have taken to other professions (beauty parlour etc. ) in the absence of ‘profitable’ cases, petitioners who throng for the ‘next date of hearing’, piles of cases that will never see the light of justice and above all two contesting advocates aspiring to win the presidentship of the Bar Association of the lower court.

It’s a spoof on the current lamentable condition of the Indian Judiciary letting out  much  hoots of laughter for the audience who wish to watch ‘clean content’ on OTT with family.

However, the forced endeavour to make home the nobility of the profession falls on deaf ears as in general viewers are more taken with the sarcastic narrative of the series rather than the dwindling nobleness of the profession in actuality.

4. Wedding Guest (Movie – 2018)

Faizal Zamaan aka Asif aka Jay meticulously plans to kidnap Sameera from  Youganabad, Pakistan on behest of Deepesh, a Londoner. Things go a bit awry when unintendedly a guard gets killed while Faizal is dragging Sameera out of the house in the dead of the night.

Though the duo reach India, as planned, Deepesh is reluctant to meet Sameera because he is scared after the killing which has made headlines now. He tells Faizal to dump her back in Pakistan. Sameera refuses to go back because she is not ready to get married and settle down to an unexciting life. Obviously, she is party to the whole (mis) adventure.

So , in an untoward bend to the narrative, Deepesh is killed by Faizal and both Sameera and Faizal run away to Goa with the ‘fake’ jewels stolen from Deepesh’s person.

Interestingly, both the kidnapper and the kidnapped are birds of the same feather and soon suspicions give way to an unusual bond between the two.

However, the movie has a touching and unexpected end which leaves scope for fanciful ruminations for the viewers.

I am happy to note that I have moved away from dark and stark  investigatives , murder mysteries and police procedurals. All the above movies/ series are of variant colours. From feel good to thriller to comedy to soft romance I am finding solace in different genres which is a welcome change in itself.

If you find the plots interesting and to your liking do watch all or any.

Till then Tudloo…

PS : Forgot to tell you all – at present am watching Monk which is a mix of Comedy, Drama, Thriller, Police Investigation. The Serial is named after the ‘defective detective’ Mr. Monk who has not yet gotten over the sudden death of his wife four years back. He has been moved out of his Office as unfit because he suffers from acute anxiety disorder, fear of height, lack of confidence and a horde of other disabling syndromes. But his sharp observation gets him called as a consultant in various cases. He is accompanied by his nurse, Sharona, a single parent to Benji,  who is as enthusiastically involved in the cases handled by Monk as the detective himself. The livewire bond between the two is amusing as well as speculation worthy.

Monk has eight seasons. I am into the first. Let me watch all. I will come back on it thereafter for sure.

Pics from Google

Today’s Gyaan

Gyaan is a Hindi word meaning knowledge. Knowledge can be of many kind – technical knowledge, operative knowledge, domain knowledge etc.

Experience increases practice knowledge. 

Convention is a storehouse of accumulated knowledge from ancient times which assists in safe and reliable decision making.

Wisdom is born out of theoretical knowledge conjugated with experiences and conventions.

Experience + Convention + Wisdom = Pragnya – a deeper and  superior knowledge which enables you to position your thoughts viz – a –  viz reality in a better and more intelligent way.

Prangya is a stepping stone to Supreme Knowledge – the realisation of the Absolute Truth!!

Colloquially, gyaan can also have a derisive connotation indicating uncalled for advice!!!

However, I , with my limited cerebral scope,  have a single and simple suggestion not gyaan to impart.

Input courtesy WhatsApp from my former senior colleague.

Yo! Yo! Rediscovering Myself!

Describe one positive change you have made in your life.

My sis said, ” Watch out! At sixty you will find so many changes happening!! You will have to know yourself all over again.”

My reaction: a mix of disbelief and anticipation of a new kind of adventure.

What change?

Soon, I was introduced to it – an entire overhauling of constitution triggered by a bout of viral (twice within a fortnight).

Implication: Easy to read – immunity gone sub-zero resulting in victory of viral followed by non-acceptability of all kinds of food I was used to and salivated over.

Aftermath : A constant process of elimination to figure out the trigger of non-acceptance. I have let go off chicken, fries, spicy and oily stuff, tea and coffee, outside food – Sob! Sob! 😭😭

Trivia – Yesterday my lunch group from office called up to invite me for special lunch on Friday – vart ki thali – a platter for days of fasting!!

It’s Nav Ratri now which means nine days of fasting. But fasting does not mean giving up on food. It means self control. Some vartees literally fast and stay on one meal a day. Some pledge to give up certain items they are fond of. Some do not have onion and garlic. I do not have non- veg these nine days.

However, a platter for fasting does not mean ascetic meal. It’s a special course which is super tasty and has a yummillicious variety. As it is rich on ghee, given my health condition, it’s simple no-no.

Till I received the invite I was super satisfied with my state of existence of rediscovering myself.

Now I am in throes of depression.

What has life come to? I cannot even have a platter for fasters!! Such a pity!! 😔😔

On other fronts too, at sixty coupled with retirement, I see a lot that I do not require any more like clothes and shoes and accessories.

The process of elimination, that is, decluttering, has begun in those fronts as well.

By the end of the season, I hope to have a less messy, cleaner and decluttered wardrobe.

Coming to routine : The pace is becoming more and more sedentary and cool. Oh boy! It took quarter of a year to zone in from one mode to the other.

With so much positivity, sans the temporary melancholy, I am so much of an improved version of myself!!! 😁😁😉😉

Yo!Yo! 😎😎

That’s the last chicken I made with lots of coriander paste which I did not even taste but am sure turned out  well by the amount of consumption 😉😉.

Well! The positive side to renunciation is that I am making new recipes which suit my palate.

So, not that bad life is!!!!!

After all… there’s something to look forward to….

Saying goodbye to Mutton Rezalla and Prawns….if that is positive. It sure has added to my strength!!!

Who Else ?

What animals make the best/worst pets?

Doggos of course!

They are the bestest buddy and cutest of companions.

I have had pets since childhood.

I am a dog person.

Though I love all kinds of animals I generally do not understand cats or cows.

But dogs…..they know me and I know them inside out.

They come to me for their regular feed, in need of treatment and for shelter during extreme weather conditions.

One of my unfulfilled dreams is to own a dog farm.

Constitutionally, I am habituated having dogs around and outside my gate, in the balcony and even in the drawing room. I don’t mind them having everywhere and anywhere.

They complete my sense of security and safety. Around my flat dogs are available in all shapes and sizes. They have their names. I know their genealogy. In turn, they understand me perfectly.

Mostly they adopt me as I am the perfect fit for all their wants and demands.

Julie

We had Julie, a Dachshund, when I came into this world.

She was like a golden sausage. A very gentle and loving soul, she guarded our house and loved us fiercely. Sadly, she died an untimely death.

Badshah

A German Shepherd mix, he was playful and mischievous. He would have grown into a big burly fellow but lack of space compelled us to part with him for his own good.

Jojo

A cute fur ball of a Pomeranian mother, she loved to nibble on human toes. She had black spots on a snow white body. I loved to  cuddle her. Again she had to be given back to her mother because we had to go to Calcutta quite suddenly upon hearing about my grandmother’s demise.

Mr. Snow Boot

A traumatized infancy made him insecure and anxiety prone. But we endured all his tantrums and loved him nonetheless. He was with us for ten years and left us as suddenly as he had come in our lives.

Rinky

A true blue Labrador she invests her restless energy and bagful of intelligence on how to eat, play, get pampered and laze at its best.

All my attempts at character building has come to naught because she instantly turns a deaf ear to all moral teachings.

She is particularly interested in vegetable peels which make us secretly believe she was a cow in her previous birth. Once during her morning sprints a mother cow actually took her to be a calf and came to lick her.  In her early years she loved to throw her weight around literally in a fit of exuberance. Even now she orders us around and we have to obey her commands for peace sake.

She has an inherent hatred for the canine bourgeoisie (other breeds) and loves the proletarian strays. She lets in all other animals, like rats and squirrels, in a fraternal mood. All her watchdog instincts get waylaid by the aromas filtering out of the kitchen which is her favourite spot for rumination.

Certain Misnoomers

Don’t think canines cannot be judgmental just because they cannot voice their opinion.

They are silent critics and can make you feel worse than humans.

Mr. Snow Boot would look at me censoriously if I happened to keep the lights and TV  past 10.00 PM.

He would pinch my sister if she got distracted while teaching my nephew.

They are intellectuals too.

Mr. Snow Boot loved to hear Didi’s tutorials on Economics.

They are the strictest disciplinarians.

Rinky can bring down the roof if she is not given her meals on time.

Not only her own but she also reminds us of our meal time if we shoot past the usual time.

They have their own witticism and sense of humour. You just have to understand it.

And aren’t they bossy!

As I said before, Rinky  had great pleasure throwing me down on roads or  parks, wherever she felt like,  standing on top of my supine self victoriously wagging her tail in supreme delight.

Now she is a grown up,  wise lady who makes it her duty to bark out gems of advices for all and sundry who happen to walk by.

I am sure we would have had it if only they could talk in human language.

Rinky not happy with her Elizabethan Cap.

She loves to read her daily news paper.

That’s the look I get while making her aware of her canine sensibilities.

When I Met Him

I met him in the hospital. He was recovering from a failed suicide attempt. The cause of failure was the ceiling fan from which he had intended to hang himself. Courtesy lack of maintenance in Government Offices, the fan broke off from the ceiling, at the nick of time, saving a life – his life. The hilarity of the situation was overshadowed by the suddenness of the offence.

Why him? An honest, upfront, industrious public servant.  His stern pecfectionism had earned him the homegrown nickname Kadak Singh (The Unbending One)!

Fortunately, he was not into depression as it happens so often consequent to such failures. Rather, the quirky joviality at finding himself indispensable to this mortal world was indeed peculiar and bewildering for those who knew him to be a no-nonsense guy.

Yet …

He suffered. Doctors said it was Retrograde Amnesia or selective memory, most probably, on account of the fall. He could not recognise his elder daughter but remembered having a five year old son who was now seventeen actually! However he failed to forget his boss and mentor, Mr. Tyagi.

He had visitors – colleagues, peers and superiors from the Department of Financial Crimes, his elder daughter, his girlfriend, his subordinate. He heard their side of the story that led him to the ICU. He was sceptical. Piecing together his past , making memories, seiving out the relevant from the junk and soliloquising what could actually have been in front of a singular audience – Sister Mimi Kannan, whose first name matched his wife’s. She died in a freak accident years back. It was embedded in his memory!

Sister kannan nursed him day and night, spectated the way everyone wanted to make him believe what actually went wrong , quietly fact checked their statements and loudly cribbed  how she wanted a change from the present assignment. His subordinate was convinced that he was too much of a perfectionist to even fail in an attempt to take his own life!

So what provoked him to such a drastic step? Finding his daughter in a compromised state in a sleazy joint or vice versa? If that was not the trigger there was only one another possibility left…..murder.

Someone wanted him out of the way. The suicide was just a guise.

Why? Had he identified the mastermind behind the financial scam he was investigating?

If yes, it would also mean that those who wanted him out of their way would try once again?

The danger was not yet over.

And when they did who came to his rescue?

Of course! The surprisingly agile, quick and strong Sister kannan! Who perpetually regretted being on such a dangerous mission...

It didn’t take him long to complete the jigsaw puzzle. Threading through the disconnects of the fragmented versions supplied by his visitors for his auditory and recollective benefit.

His concluding statement, “The nation runs in the hands of a fistful of honest public servants”, a merciless pronouncement of all that was wrong stitched with the forgettable, marginalized rights in the fabric of contemporary society.

Was he one of the minority?

Wasn’t I one with him?

That’s it….

A partially disjointed narration ensuring pride in a few of us for being truly us…

Happy to draw a line at this juncture without much ado…

Trivia : Pankaj Tripathi as A. K or Arun Kumar Srivastav aka Kadak Singh sleep walks through the role. Parvathy Thiruvottu as Sister Kannan, undoubtledly, makes us aware what craft is all about. So does the suave Dilip Shankar as Mr, Tyagi.

One small advice to Director, Aniruddha Roy Chowdhury – a thriller needs to be as much lapse-free as possible!

Epilogue : In brief, knowing Mr. Kadak Singh was a pleasure and a hope raiser.

Its futile to dwell whether it was truly an amnesaic lead to the truth.

The answer is hidden somewhere in Kadak Singh’s cerebral maze decipherable perhaps only by Sister Kannan.

Its really incredible that noone else, even the closest to him, suspected otherwise!!

I don’t know whether he will ever de-mystify the narrative.

If I were him…I won’t.

More so when life is blossoming into something unexpectedly fragranceful with new memories. The truth of today is far sweeter than the bitternesses of the past and the doubts located somewhere in the future.

Honestly!

Shared on Mouthshut.com

A Random Outing – Part II

Those who have missed Part I can read it here.

I said we had a single destination in my last post. But we were led astray by sis who wanted to satisfy stomach’s call. No, she did not have a running tummy.  But outings can never be complete without satiating the taste buds.

So, we landed at Nathu’s in Bengali Market.

Bengali Market is famous for street food like chaat.

This one is aloo chaat , made of boiled  potatoes, which are later roasted till crisp and brown. The chutney is mixed when the potatoes are ready. The dish is tangy and crispy and delicious. Chutney or the sauce is made up of Pudina or mint leaves ground to a paste with ginger and chillies. The spice level of the chutney is as per individual palate. The garnishing is of ginger, radish, carrot and beetroot jullions. It’s lip smacking, I tell you.

However, we started with chhole bhature. I was craving for these fried puffs for long. Chhole is the side dish which is nothing but chickpeas cooked with lots of spices. And it’s yummy. The dish is supposed to be had fresh and the bhatures right out of the hot oil filled wok. You cannot have bhatures alone. It has to  be paired with the chhole. Bhatures are crisp fried flour balls but the making is entirely different. It can be stuffed with paneer or cheese or daal ki pitthi , that is, certain lentils boiled and  ground to paste with spices.

A few seasons back when I was on a diet spree I used to have mid-diet yearnings for chhole bhature. It was a surprise for the dietician. Being a carnivorous Bengali she had assumed that my on-diet cravings will be for chicken tikkas or fish cutlets. 

But no! It was always chhole bhature!!

One great or not so great thing about street food is that you cannot stop at one. So, the next was aloo tikki – potato chops fried crisp served with spicy curd, chutney or chhole. We preferred chhole.

In between B-I-L ordered malpua with rabree – a desert.

Salivation over, there were takeaways for home.

Oh! I forgot. Before leaving, we also tasted a plate of Dahi Bhalla – a digestive, even recommended by gastros! Bhallas are made up of ground lentil served with curd or dahi. It’s served cold.

The chutneys are ubiquitous.

Nathu’s is a food chain found all over Delhi. It was established somewhere in 1939.  A humble beginning in Bengali Market which soon spread all over the city and today boasts of experience of four generations. However, quality differs from place to place. I have a liking for Bikanerwala – another local brand for street food.

Bengali Market is situated in Central Delhi and visited by celebs and plebians alike.

Uniqueness Is Personal

Which aspects do you think makes a person unique?

My first thought as a reply to the prompt was mental acumen. It’s the cerebral qualities of each person that makes them unique.

However, the uniqueness emerges from inequity. There is inherent disparity amongst human beings in terms of abilities and aptitudes.

It is difficult to ascertain a particular quality which can bring forth uniqueness. Every individual has different core competencies. A person may have leadership skills. Another may have kindness of heart as his/her USP. I was always told I had great interpersonal skills.

One may have more than one qualities or skill sets. I used to admire one of my colleagues for her level headedness.. I admire those qualities in a person which I lack. One of my bosses had the unique capability of calming me down when I got carried away. He was a great balancing factor in my life. He made me see reason. Though it was his reason but I got an alternate perspective which was very important. 

On hindsight I believe my mother had great absorption ability. It’s this ability which enabled her to endure sorrow and move on. My father, on the other hand, was much ahead of his time in thoughts and deeds. Though I guess he was not very pragmatic but yes, of course, undoubtedly, he brought in the flavour of liberal mindedness in a conservative Bengali family.

However, uniqueness  graduates to greatness when humans suffer for others. Great reformers have given their lives for their convictions. They have had the strong will to pursue their higher aims for greater good.

Crucifixion of Christ is the greatest example of self sacrifice for his faith and people. Pandit Ishwar Chandra Vidyasagar hailed from very humble background. His willpower carried him forward. He lived the life of an ascetic and fought for social reforms like women’s education and equality. He was one of the pillars of Bengal Renaissance. However, the orthodox Bengali society did not take to his efforts kindly.

There is a very funny story about Vidyasagar Mahashaya. He was once told by one of his acquaintances about Mr. X  mouthing bad words about him behind his back. Vidyasagar Mahashaya replied innocently, “Why ? Have I done any good to him?” This was his greatness!! He was stoic to ill wills and criticism overcoming petty mindedness and envisioning and striving for a better social system.

Today we have evolved as a civilization because of such great men and women whose uniqueness transcended the narrow limits of thoughts and deeds and brought about orbit shifting changes for an improved world.

Do we have the unique ability to sustain what they gifted us against all odds ?

Point to ponder 🤔.

Bollywoodization Of Indian Air Force

A narrative which could have been great but failed to be so due to mishandling!!

On my sister’s recommendation I watched the movie “Fighter” on Netflix yesterday. Its a Siddharth Anand (SA) movie who seems to be making come-back films for forgotten heroes. Remember Pathaan!!!

Squadron Leader, Shamsher Pathania or Patty (Hrithik Roshan – HR) is the best fighter pilot in the Indian Air Force (IAF). He comes to join a special Unit of the IAF called Air Dragons to combat at LoC. The Commanding Officer (CO) of the Unit is Rakesh Jaisingh aka Rocky (Anil Kapoor) who has a bias against Patty. He also meets Squadron Leader, Minal Rathore or Mimie (Deepika Padukone – DP) in the same Unit. Mimie instantly gets attracted to Patty who at first appears to be an arrogant loner. Gradually, he opens up to Mimie and confesses that he is not good for people he loves. Its later , post a botched up combat, that Rocky tells Mimie how he lost his younger sister, Naina Jaisingh, another ace fighter pilot, because of Patty’s miscalucation and pushiness.

Rocky tries every possible means to keep Patty away from direct combat. However, under Patty’s leadership, Project Bandar, a counter attack on terrorist outfits in PoK, succeeds. Subsequently, in another mission, two fighter pilots of Air Dragon and Patty’s friends, Sartaj Gill or Taj (Karan Singh Grover) and Basheer Khan or Bash (Akshay Oberoi) are ambushed by Pakistani Air Force, held as war prisoners and tortured inhumanly. Consequently, Patty is court marshalled. Though he is not directly found responsible for the mishap but nonetheless transferred to Hyderabad as Flying Instructor of the Air Force Academy.

Patty is demoralized. He also feels guilty of not being able to save his friends. He expresses his wish to put down his papers. To give him an opportunity to think over, he is told to take leave and review his decision on his return. Patty comes back to Jammu where he resides with his father (Talat Aziz). Before leaving he wants to meet his friends in the Unit. It is also the time when Pakistan announces that Bash and Taj will be handed over to India. But instead, in a shocking twist to the tale, Bash’s body, brutally cut into pieces, is brought over. Taj is still retained by Pakistan.

From the very beginning, it is made clear that Pakistani Military is a mere puppet in the hands of Jaish, a terrorist group. The mastermind of Jaish is one Arnold-schwarzenegger-type-villain, Azhar Akhtar (Rishabh Sawheny) who perpetrates bloodbaths with a dead-pan face, has a quaint red coloured eye, smokes expensive cigars and gatecrashes into the offices of top military brass of Pakistan with super ease as though it were his personal boudoire. On top of it he calls himself the messiah of mujahideens and is as cold blooded as a cadaver. His vindictiveness looks more personal than based on any broader political or military agenda.

How Taj is brought back home, how Air Dragons take revenge on PAF (Pakistani Air Force) for their unethical stand of murdering Basheer Khan, a war prisoner and how Patty regains his erstwhile Group Captain Rocky’s faith and appreciation comprise the last half an hour of the narrative. In between there are parallel tracks like Mimie’s reunion with his father (Ashutosh Rana) and mother (Geeta Aggarwal) who had cut off all ties with her since she joined IAF. The reunion is courtesy Patty who in order to get a seat in a totally booked Jammu Flight comes across the Operation Manager, Abhijeet Rathore, puts two and two together and delivers a long lecture on gender bias and how great an officer Mimie is. Of course, he knew beforehand that Mimie was estranged from her family.

The romantic track between Patty and Mimie is absolute Bollywood sizzle-wriggle. The song and dance sequences, Mimie in skimpy clothes and Patty suddenly breaking into the typical HR-ish gyrations and moves look like a deliberate attempt to throw-in a Bollywood style glamour quotient to a way of life which is far removed from it. Though the screen play is written in collaboration with Ramon Chibb who has a Defence background, Bollywood, I believe, cannot restraint from putting in their home grown masala into a script which could have had a more thrilling and edge-of-the-seat tenor. Moreover, I have never heard such insipid songs in a war movie which are thorough ear sores and fail to be blood boiling (in contrast to the old classics both in terms of war film and their patriotism invoking music). There is also another track of one secret RAW agent called Zareena Begum who flits in and out of the frame in a Burqaa and Pakistani Intelligence does not have an inkling that (s)he is a double agent! How convenient..

Unfortunately, the movie has all the ingredients of being a memorable one which it has not turned out to be. But alas! SA proposed to make a Big Budget Venture and establish himself as a high revenue grossing Director like his earlier experiment (with Pathaan). How these balderdash movies become super duper hits is a different story alltogether.

The romantic trail between Patty and Mimie and their decision to part ways could have been more touchingly walked through rather than converting it into a Jumping-Jackass-Song-and-Dance-Sequence! The last ten minutes of the “direct combat” between Patty and Azhar(Arnold)Akhtar was so over the top intercepted by patriotism oozing dialogues that the current sensitive issue of discordial relationship between India and Pakistan, which the narrative capitalizes on, degenerates into a mockery of complex border realities.

The SAs of today forget that Indian viewership is now exposed to OTT releases and series which are more meaningful, hard hitting and presentable content wise. (Reference may be drawn to Meghna Gulzar’s latest biopic “Sam Bahadur” which is a heartstealer). The actual competition lies there. Since, SA is determined to make a “planned serial action franchise”, hope he will pay heed and dish out improved versions of war mongering in future.

To give the devil its due, Fighter has a few very good air combat scenes. DP’s collection of Pullovers is enviable. Understandably, the entire focus is on Hrithik Roshan and he fits into the role like a pair of well-stiched gloves. Deepika’s athletic body is an asset to such roles. Her character should have had more meat than just used to portray woman’s stature in the IAF. Ashutosh Rana was grossly underutilized. Just don’t know why he agreed to play such a miniscule role to deliver “progressive lines” on “equality of women”. Siddharth Anand’s direction is, needless to say, flawful. The DoP is good to certain extent. The song and dance interludes are total pace breakers.

Yet I reommend this movie wholly and solely because of Hrithik Roshan and Anil Kapoor who put in their best to make the most of a lopsided narrative.

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