The memory of the citizens' struggle to free the pavement from the clutches of 'Sadguru' was just beginning to fade when the same citizens of TPS 111 were called upon to thwart the efforts of a restaurant from grabbing the pavement in front of its premises, a stone's throw away from the previous venue of ill-fame. Is there no rest for the wicked?
By now experience has taught us that like the proverbial mice that play when the cat is away, illegal activity is let loose during any public holidays, BMC’s official days off. So on 25th January, hours away from the celebration of India's Republic Day, as dusk was falling the worshippers returning from the evening service at the nearby church were aghast at being driven to the center of the busy main road because their pavement was vigorously being dug up by a group of men supervised by the restaurant manager.
For some time now the citizens had patiently turned a Nelson’s eye to the 24 hour noisy renovation of the premises, erection of a 9-10 feet high wall in violation of law. The inconvenience of supply vehicles blocking the road, bags of cement piled on the pavement, noise pollution in the night and even the rubble generated by the renovators thrown around the locality had nearly pushed them to the edge of sanity. Live and let live, said the peace-loving citizens. But this was the last straw- grabbing their pavement! Do they have to fight to live, walk and even breathe when the country was known to be run by a government 'of the people by the people and for the people'?
On questioning, the restaurant manager, a hefty chap with shifty eyes and a condescending attitude revealed that they were "repairing a leaking gas pipe"! The news spread like wild fire and the alarmed citizens began rushing to the spot to gauge the situation. Questions flew around- Where was the work order? Why did the Mahanagar Gas company that strictly abides by its own work ethics permit these unskilled labourers employed by the restaurant to tamper with the gas pipe? The public ire soon turned into a rage and messages flew around to the Ward Corporator and the local police station....the Corporator sent her PA and the police sent two unwilling and lethargic personnel least interested in heeding the public call!
Money can buy loyalty, even leading to crime- the photographic proof of the men digging up the pavement did not deter the manager from issuing a statement that a truck had damaged the pavement! What? Do the citizens looking on in dismay resemble invisible aliens to this man? After much noise, arguments and timely action, the battle was won...not the war though.
Ultimately a lot of pressure tactics in this election year were needed not only to halt the work but to persuade the police to take heed of the complaint. Two of the labourers were randomly picked up to be taken to the police station, while the renovation work inside continued unhindered under the benign gaze of the police! The pavement was haphazardly repaired and saved....till when?
Many questions arise here- Is the politician-builder nexus rapidly growing in strength for the lack of any action by an elected government? Are the police serving the rich and the famous and ignoring their duty at the cost of such rampant lawlessness? Is it time for the rest of the snoozing citizens to wake up and save their city from being siphoned off from under their very feet?
Jago re....Jago!
- Vera Alvares
Friday, January 28, 2011
Saturday, November 6, 2010
Rape Manual for Cops
I am happily borrowing the great columnist Roberts Clements' byline in the 'Indian Currents'.
TOI recently reported that ...."Soon a manual for cops to handle sexual assault cases...." will be ready. I dread to think how the hardened individuals in the police force will interpret the new manual according to their own leanings and preferences. You can give a cop Kakhi but you cannot change the baaki ( rest of him).
Well, close encounters with the battered women through women's organisations have made me cynical and I can truthfully reproduce scenes from the stage they call the cop station. The cases of domestic violence are invariably brought before the Mahila Mandals and routinely referred to the cops. The poor complaintant receives predictable treatment by the keepers of the law.
" Kashala aali ikde, tula laaz nahi vatthe ? Maarla thar kaay zala...tuja pati parameshwar hai na tho? Kai thar chook keli aslel, monon maarla asel......" drawls constable Pandurang propped up with his legs on the table without even pausing to look up at the bleeding woman, busy scrutinizing the stuff he has unearthed from his broken teeth with a piece of a broom stick! Though before him stands a badly bruised victim his jaundiced eye can only take in the sight of a nonconsequential bai with chapped hands and an old saree daring to rebel against the lord and master who maintans his woman and provides her shelter in his zopdi. Being a man, is he not entitled to a drink or two and roughing up his woman once in a way?
That the said woman works herself to the bare bones from dawn to dusk in 4 houses scrubbing floors and utensils only to hand over her total earnings to the man of the house and gets beaten up for her troubles is of no concern to the Pandu who would probably do the same thing if given a chance!
How will such a macho man respond to the manual that dictates to him the terms of 'rape'?
" Aisa tho har jaga hota hai, apun pictur madhe bagithla nahi ka? Aisa patela sadi pahanke kuch nakra karegi tho koyi na koyi thumare oopar toot padta hai ki nahi?"Judgement has been passed at the very first stage of the law-keeping process.
So they have to compile another manual to decide who broke the law under the circumstances, rapist or the victim because the cops will be undecided as long as Patriarchy reigns supreme in Lalu land! Manual or no manual.....
TOI recently reported that ...."Soon a manual for cops to handle sexual assault cases...." will be ready. I dread to think how the hardened individuals in the police force will interpret the new manual according to their own leanings and preferences. You can give a cop Kakhi but you cannot change the baaki ( rest of him).
Well, close encounters with the battered women through women's organisations have made me cynical and I can truthfully reproduce scenes from the stage they call the cop station. The cases of domestic violence are invariably brought before the Mahila Mandals and routinely referred to the cops. The poor complaintant receives predictable treatment by the keepers of the law.
" Kashala aali ikde, tula laaz nahi vatthe ? Maarla thar kaay zala...tuja pati parameshwar hai na tho? Kai thar chook keli aslel, monon maarla asel......" drawls constable Pandurang propped up with his legs on the table without even pausing to look up at the bleeding woman, busy scrutinizing the stuff he has unearthed from his broken teeth with a piece of a broom stick! Though before him stands a badly bruised victim his jaundiced eye can only take in the sight of a nonconsequential bai with chapped hands and an old saree daring to rebel against the lord and master who maintans his woman and provides her shelter in his zopdi. Being a man, is he not entitled to a drink or two and roughing up his woman once in a way?
That the said woman works herself to the bare bones from dawn to dusk in 4 houses scrubbing floors and utensils only to hand over her total earnings to the man of the house and gets beaten up for her troubles is of no concern to the Pandu who would probably do the same thing if given a chance!
How will such a macho man respond to the manual that dictates to him the terms of 'rape'?
" Aisa tho har jaga hota hai, apun pictur madhe bagithla nahi ka? Aisa patela sadi pahanke kuch nakra karegi tho koyi na koyi thumare oopar toot padta hai ki nahi?"Judgement has been passed at the very first stage of the law-keeping process.
So they have to compile another manual to decide who broke the law under the circumstances, rapist or the victim because the cops will be undecided as long as Patriarchy reigns supreme in Lalu land! Manual or no manual.....
Saturday, October 30, 2010
Monday, October 25, 2010
Recipes from home...
A recent trip by my cousin sister to Mangalore has not only provided my grandma with a pleasant surprise and heartwarming happiness, it has also brought up a topic which I suspect we are all very passionate about; food. As a family, we have in our midst in the form of our parents, expertise in the art of cooking that we should all be grateful for. While some of it is being passed on to the next generation with a reasonable level of success, I fear the future generations will lose out if we do not act now. Roushelle's idea to collate as many recipes as we can find is one that I whole heartedly agree with.
I have been invited to lunches and dinners at other Mangalorean houses and have come away with nothing more than a brief memory of unsavory tidbits. All too often, they have been more misses than hits.
Having lived away from my parents for the better part of my life, without a doubt, one of the things I missed the most is my mum's cooking. And I am pretty sure; my cousins will have similar cravings for good home cooked food rustled up by their mums in a jiffy. I know my mum had sorpotel ready three days in advance of my touching down in Bombay on every trip I made. Dad took care of the beers.
On every trip that I have made to my cousin’s place in Doha, we have invariably spent the Friday afternoons cooking away, in the hope of replicating a recipe or two that our mum's cooked for us. If these attempts do not prove our passion for good food, then what will? I rest my case.
On another parallel, food plays an important part in our Mangalorean culture, indeed in any culture. Losing out on recipes will erode our culture for future generations, for our children. Let this not happen.
An idea sparked off by my cousin sister to create a recipe log of dishes we hold dear is something I whole heartedly support. I do hope the family will help in creating this recipe log which we and our children could share for many delicious years to come.
Bon Appétit
Sanman
I have been invited to lunches and dinners at other Mangalorean houses and have come away with nothing more than a brief memory of unsavory tidbits. All too often, they have been more misses than hits.
Having lived away from my parents for the better part of my life, without a doubt, one of the things I missed the most is my mum's cooking. And I am pretty sure; my cousins will have similar cravings for good home cooked food rustled up by their mums in a jiffy. I know my mum had sorpotel ready three days in advance of my touching down in Bombay on every trip I made. Dad took care of the beers.
On every trip that I have made to my cousin’s place in Doha, we have invariably spent the Friday afternoons cooking away, in the hope of replicating a recipe or two that our mum's cooked for us. If these attempts do not prove our passion for good food, then what will? I rest my case.
On another parallel, food plays an important part in our Mangalorean culture, indeed in any culture. Losing out on recipes will erode our culture for future generations, for our children. Let this not happen.
An idea sparked off by my cousin sister to create a recipe log of dishes we hold dear is something I whole heartedly support. I do hope the family will help in creating this recipe log which we and our children could share for many delicious years to come.
Bon Appétit
Sanman
Monday, October 11, 2010
The Planet of the Apes!
No, the National Geographic has not recruited me to advocate their cause, nor have I joined the cast of 'Star Trek'.
But from that morning when the family had breakfast of vada-pao and bun-maska under the Jamun tree in the garden with a long-tailed magpie and a couple of butterflies as the honoured guests, the urge to push the cause of these mute yet magnificent creatures of God has been lingering at the back of my mind.
The other day when the crow population around that vast green expanse we call the Mehboob Studio flew into a frenzy, the cause of it happened to be a couple of langoors, out on a slow stroll, indifferent to the curious eyes around as though they knew a piece of this paradise belonged to them- man or no man!
All shooting in the studio ceased, cameras came to a standstill. Spot boys stopped in their tracks, chaiwalas froze in the action of pouring tea.. And those who have to pay a packet to hire emaciated animals to feature in their films, stood dumb struck by the sight of these two cavorting on the columns yet soooo out of reach of humans....
Are we as a human race of intelligent beings, the custodians of the living planet heading in the right direction? Look at the larger picture. Jumbos mowed down by the juggernaut of locomotives and not one eyebrow is raised or a tear shed for these lovable losers. The ocean becomes the graveyard for the poor marine creatures that considered it their only home and none is held to ransom for the massacre of marine life on a such a large scale. The killers of the voiceless, go scot-free...
Can you hear that silent scream, the miserable moans from the mangroves that are being hacked mercilessly by money-hungry monsters? How can the miniscule kingdom beneath the Arabian coast stand upto the might of the politically powered land mafia?
Reptiles in the drawing rooms, leopards on the loose, all homeless because man wants more space, more and more and....
On the one hand the numbers of the born-free creatures are steadily dwindling and on the other hand, the tentacles of greedy humans are creeping in all directions denuding the planet, stripping her of all her glory- flora and fauna while the rulers are aiming at the moon for development, progress and power! Missed the trees for the would-be my friends?
Before it all ends, I suggest our schools include more field trips in the Curriculum lest the next generation grow old without having breakfasted with a butterfly or seen a magpie fly.....
But from that morning when the family had breakfast of vada-pao and bun-maska under the Jamun tree in the garden with a long-tailed magpie and a couple of butterflies as the honoured guests, the urge to push the cause of these mute yet magnificent creatures of God has been lingering at the back of my mind.
The other day when the crow population around that vast green expanse we call the Mehboob Studio flew into a frenzy, the cause of it happened to be a couple of langoors, out on a slow stroll, indifferent to the curious eyes around as though they knew a piece of this paradise belonged to them- man or no man!
All shooting in the studio ceased, cameras came to a standstill. Spot boys stopped in their tracks, chaiwalas froze in the action of pouring tea.. And those who have to pay a packet to hire emaciated animals to feature in their films, stood dumb struck by the sight of these two cavorting on the columns yet soooo out of reach of humans....
Are we as a human race of intelligent beings, the custodians of the living planet heading in the right direction? Look at the larger picture. Jumbos mowed down by the juggernaut of locomotives and not one eyebrow is raised or a tear shed for these lovable losers. The ocean becomes the graveyard for the poor marine creatures that considered it their only home and none is held to ransom for the massacre of marine life on a such a large scale. The killers of the voiceless, go scot-free...
Can you hear that silent scream, the miserable moans from the mangroves that are being hacked mercilessly by money-hungry monsters? How can the miniscule kingdom beneath the Arabian coast stand upto the might of the politically powered land mafia?
Reptiles in the drawing rooms, leopards on the loose, all homeless because man wants more space, more and more and....
On the one hand the numbers of the born-free creatures are steadily dwindling and on the other hand, the tentacles of greedy humans are creeping in all directions denuding the planet, stripping her of all her glory- flora and fauna while the rulers are aiming at the moon for development, progress and power! Missed the trees for the would-be my friends?
Before it all ends, I suggest our schools include more field trips in the Curriculum lest the next generation grow old without having breakfasted with a butterfly or seen a magpie fly.....
Monday, October 4, 2010
Door se Darshan
Who would have believed a few years ago that the passing decades would change me into a typical Bharatiya Nari....sitting glued to the TV watching the maipulation of Hindi plots in affluent households inhabited by dumb and dolled up females? Wardha university may have nurtured my love for the Rashtrabhasha but it was Tripathi sir who tended it into a devotion. So TV se ye rishta kya kehelata hai- pass time or wasting time?
I shy away from watching the Bal Vivaha types because I am afraid I may be thrown behind bars for breaking the law,by attending under-age weddings.You see I have never had a chance to rise up the ladder to make muscle or money power and I fear I may be targetted easily by the second set of laws existing in this country, meant for common people like me .....
Back to my favourite serials. Once to the manor born is now building a Pavitra Rishta with the gutsy lass Pratigya, waiting for Jansi ki Rani to walk in the Raja ki Barath. Joot tho main bolti nahin, lekin, ye Bidaayi hogi kab?
So back to my favourite characters in my favourite serials. Does the mirage of another India projected in these serials blindfold you that you fail to see the crafty creators of these serials laughing all the way to the Swiss banks ? Our teaming millions are transported into this India of many a dreams for those few hours, leaving behind the reality of corruption, hunger, illiteracy and poverty. I am one of those clinging to my happy reality while simultaneously getting hitched to this glitzy wagon....
Gopi bahu with the chubby cheeks and dimple chin, an empty skull and nothing within....nodding her head to the clues thrown by the flashing eyes of Kali, sorry Kokila..
Ragini, i have a fixation on this Tammy's Mammy for her fixed crowning glory, fixed smile, fixed sari ....fixed everything. So sterilized, cut and paste. The whole serial is filled with sleep-walking fixtures except the dear old Alek babu who I am afraid may not be able to shake off the caricature....
Sumitra Singh, aka Thakurayin, standing tall and proud as a symbol of Patriarchal tyranny, plotting to eliminate any female that refuses to fall in line with her 'Aurat mard ke paavn ki joothi hoti hai' philosophy! Can you see the Yaadav trivumvirate in the cow belt smiling contentedly at this eliminator, a one woman army spreading their message of mardangee?
Archoo, the channel's idea of women's emancipation, in her pretty ethnic wear is pitted against man's pride and glory- three men and their collective self glory (ego?) ....Who would divorce the man that one loved so passionately, even if the Director told her to do so? And now at odds with her own convictions, how could she meekly give in to the machinations of three egos? For all her firm assertions, what a poor judge of people! Even a 10th pass with Diploma have not prepared her for the game of 'passing the buck'.
And the whole of India is being coached on this, our Indian culture....!!
I shy away from watching the Bal Vivaha types because I am afraid I may be thrown behind bars for breaking the law,by attending under-age weddings.You see I have never had a chance to rise up the ladder to make muscle or money power and I fear I may be targetted easily by the second set of laws existing in this country, meant for common people like me .....
Back to my favourite serials. Once to the manor born is now building a Pavitra Rishta with the gutsy lass Pratigya, waiting for Jansi ki Rani to walk in the Raja ki Barath. Joot tho main bolti nahin, lekin, ye Bidaayi hogi kab?
So back to my favourite characters in my favourite serials. Does the mirage of another India projected in these serials blindfold you that you fail to see the crafty creators of these serials laughing all the way to the Swiss banks ? Our teaming millions are transported into this India of many a dreams for those few hours, leaving behind the reality of corruption, hunger, illiteracy and poverty. I am one of those clinging to my happy reality while simultaneously getting hitched to this glitzy wagon....
Gopi bahu with the chubby cheeks and dimple chin, an empty skull and nothing within....nodding her head to the clues thrown by the flashing eyes of Kali, sorry Kokila..
Ragini, i have a fixation on this Tammy's Mammy for her fixed crowning glory, fixed smile, fixed sari ....fixed everything. So sterilized, cut and paste. The whole serial is filled with sleep-walking fixtures except the dear old Alek babu who I am afraid may not be able to shake off the caricature....
Sumitra Singh, aka Thakurayin, standing tall and proud as a symbol of Patriarchal tyranny, plotting to eliminate any female that refuses to fall in line with her 'Aurat mard ke paavn ki joothi hoti hai' philosophy! Can you see the Yaadav trivumvirate in the cow belt smiling contentedly at this eliminator, a one woman army spreading their message of mardangee?
Archoo, the channel's idea of women's emancipation, in her pretty ethnic wear is pitted against man's pride and glory- three men and their collective self glory (ego?) ....Who would divorce the man that one loved so passionately, even if the Director told her to do so? And now at odds with her own convictions, how could she meekly give in to the machinations of three egos? For all her firm assertions, what a poor judge of people! Even a 10th pass with Diploma have not prepared her for the game of 'passing the buck'.
And the whole of India is being coached on this, our Indian culture....!!
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Little Girls Made of Sugar and Spice
Yesterday I was treated to a pleasant surprise…so pleasant that the sweet taste of it is still lingering in my mouth! Little Zoe-anne all of 9, with the able assistance of her sister Gia Isabella, waiting in the wings to step into her 9th year next week .......worked their magic in the kitchen and came up with a whopper!
And this, when modern gals need a road map to locate the kitchen in their own house and cannot tell the difference between jam and jelly....
When kids have begun to believe that an inch of war paint on their faces can enhance the beauty much more than the warm glow of innocence and sincerity.....
When tiny tots are growing up with one and just one aspiration- to be the Miss Universes or Miss Worlds like the Sens and the Rais who have missed their way to Mother Theresa's ashram......
When little girls long to be seen and appreciated on the small or silver screen, hanging from the ceiling in dance shows or prancing around as child brides in some old melodrama tearjerkers.......
The whopper that came out of the warm oven in the kitchen was the best chocolate cake I ever seen or eaten in my life…..I have yet to taste a tastier and softer cake with the syrupy chocolate icing oozing out of the layers.....because the magical cake that came out of the kitchen yesterday was sweetened with Zoe's tender love and softened with Gia's zest for life!
As any fond Nan would tell you, I prefer to overlook the contribution of the mother and the maid... however small it was because I AM proud to be their grandmother….!
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