Tuesday, April 26, 2011
India's human power
Thursday, March 24, 2011
No one stole Mamma's laptop

Times have come to naught it would seem!
This apathy factor of everyone around us― we are just not bothered about others….whether someone lies bleeding on the road or a robber runs away with stuff or someone guns down a person in broad day light….what are we doing as spectators and why aren’t we moved enough? Why? Why?
I have donned the task of a ‘cop’ going around the sultry summer sun in the busy market place, questioning onlookers or even hawkers, trying to find out who stole my laptop…..
The day was full of activities...the housemaid didn't turn up on time so I set about completing my household chores trying to meet the deadline. Like an automaton I managed to complete washing, swabbing and cleaning on time. As soon as I procured the car keys from inside the drawers, hung my laptop around my shoulders and my lunch box and went down the steps two at a time to my car...it was already 10 AM and I had to be in office by 11!
I decided to call office to inform that I would be in late and lo and behold! the cell wouldn't respond! I tried all tricks to get it working but Satan was upon me....Not the person to give up so easily I decided to get down near the mobile repair shop which was down the road.
Thankfully the shop was open and the engineer was there! He checked my cell while I talked to my project manager. After disappearing into his workshop the guy could not repair my cell and decided that I needed to change my old toy...
Seeing sense in his observation, I decided to visit the ATM to get cash and buy a new Smartphone for myself! I went to my car to get my purse....then went to the ATM to get cash...then went around paying and selecting a new model, signing the invoice....The shop had begun to crowd...there was the morning beggar, the tea- wallah boy...the college-going student who must have thought to just drop in to have a look. I looked at my watch...it was already time. Having purchased my new toy, with the black heavy box in my hand, my brow dampened with sweat and a big grin on my face I started for work....
I opened the car door only to realize that someone had dropped in some big glass sheet on the co-driver’s seat...no wait the realization dawned suddenly that it was not a glass sheet but my window pane had caved in. I banged the door shut and went about the parking space searching for the vehicle which broke my window pane...but wait this was not some vehicle that scratched against my window pane! Suddenly I comprehended that I must look for my laptop...and yes of course it was not there!
The whole realization stuck me and shook me like a lightning bolt...that some rogue must have broken the window pane just to grab the laptop!
The next few hours were nightmarish....I went running to the Sentry standing near the gate of the ATM to ask if he had seen anyone..."we only guard the ATM," he said...I scampered to the cobbler who was right next to the car, thought he would have seen some one. He feigned ignorance too...I dialed 100 from my new cell...no one picked up....no one seemed to have seen anyone who broke opened glass window and went away with a laptop!!
I found myself in the Police station waiting endlessly...going over the turn of events again and again preparing myself for the myriad of questions that would come my way...
The crime detection branch wanted to see the state of my vehicle...I went with the plainclothes men to the site where my wounded car stood the onlookers' scrutiny.
The men hardly went about their job of enquiring the people around...they just waited and saw the broken car…it was a busy market and to have a thing stolen at 11 in the morning was atrocious...I stood there with the men asking people, talking to the crowd which was pretending to be ignorant seeing the police bikes....It was in vain..
After the unfortunate day when I returned home wounded and feeling defeated my son asked me, “who stole your laptop?" and I replied..." No one stole Mamma's laptop, coz Mamma's going to find out that one day."
But wait I am still looking for my laptop. The office charged me dearly for losing it since it was issued in my company's name. All the hard work was stolen!
It’s sad that no one will ever bring out candles at midnight in memory of my laptop so that the media can take a note and start investigating...the people around the market will not commit to nothing and the cops? Oh they have earned their bread by typing a long FIR so that I can claim it some day...isn’t that enough?
Not one to be let down...I am still on the job..silently watching every move the people around the place is making and will one day break this case even....
Monday, November 2, 2009
The Class Act

THE CLASS ACT
A paramount part of her life was spent here in Pune. She did her Pre-University from Wadia College, and went on to complete her degree in Applied Arts from Paris when her father was sent there on an Ordnance mission.
Anupama Singh is one of the eighteen artists in India to be chosen by United Nations Development Project (UNDP) to work with a plethora of artisans spread far and wide in remote places of the country.
A rare combination of pen and sword has guided her through life’s journey. Anupama Singh’s father was a celebrated Army Officer and mother, Prabhjyot Kaur is still a renowned Punjabi novelist whose writings are inspirational and find their markings in every Punjabi literary record. Anupama’s artistic talents came to the fore at a very young age with her parents encouraging both the sisters to pick up fine arts. “At a young age my sister and I had been encouraged to hone our skills in every aspect of art and crafts,” she reminisces. “Although my father had a strong persona, his heart lied in the finer things in life,” she points out. One of her first exhibitions of Paintings was on display in RSI when she was only a teenager. That was a good three decades back.
The doting wife of one of the most powerful men in the Indian Army, Lieutenant General J J Singh, Anupama is an artist, an entrepreneur and an inspirational first lady of the Maratha Regiment. In addition to having the much-coveted degree in Applied Arts from Paris, she is proficient in French, which she taught for eighteen years at the Spicer College. Anupama diverted from her creative career while she was busy rearing up her kids. “I diverted into teaching so that I could spend more time with my two children while my husband was away,” she explains. “Nothing gives more pleasure than to see your children prosper in life,” the mother feels and flourishing, they are. While the son is in Paris excellling in Engineering , the daughter is an accomplished fashion designer based in Delhi.
Clad in a flowing, chiffon, brocaded peach saree designed by her daughter, Anupama Singh moves across the dining room where she meets the crowd, - a gathering hosted in her husbands honour in the Maratha Unit. A brilliant flash of smile on her countenance and a child like exuberance that is infections, an enrapturing aura that is very enduring to young and the old, she mingles with old and young. At fifty, Anupama’s jubilance is like an enthusiastic sixteen-year old’s with a hint of an awe-inspiring quality. No doubt she snatches the limelight in every army gathering.
Her art speaks of contemporary yet century old human issues, which has a classic appeal. The paintings are hues of subtlety yet eloquent. The delicate stroke of the brush creates a statement, which is both animated and has a venerable approach to it – like the damsel in distress
Of her work with the UNDP, she explains, “We help the artisans in remote villages to make a living out of making handicrafts and export their talents to the West. There are no middlemen involved in the export of these products so that we can boost their standard of work. Many such craftsmen have been motivated by the government to improve their craftsmanship in order to uplift their living standards”. Under such projects she has already worked in Sikkim , Salavass, a remote village in Rajasthan, Moradabad and in some places in Madhya Pradesh.
Her work sees her travelling through the length and breadth of the country. The artefacts designed by Anupama are made of metal, wood, glazed pottery, marble that are distinctive in having a traditional character with a mix of superior supplies to give them a global appeal.” We see to it that there is no compromise on the quality of products. They are of International standard and are in much demand in the West, mostly in Paris , UK, other western European countries and the United States,” she offers.
“Earlier the Indian government exported carpets depicting Persian themes and motifs but now we are making carpets having Indian designs”, she says of one of her works. One of her creations and contributions to this project are the inimitable carpets she has designed. They are a unique blend of three Indian forms of art whose manifestations are taken from the Jamavar Shawl, Kalamkari Prints and Kundan Jewelery. The fusion of all these three forms offers an attractive semblance to the monotony of these carpets that are becoming a rage in Paris, Belgium, Britain, U S, and many commonwealth countries.
Resting in her husband’s laurels is not for her. An ensured deference and a protected existence failed to tie her down. Working incessantly against all odds of domesticity, sundry social afflictions, and a vagabond existence that come with a regimental life style, she created ‘Renaissance International’, an export house dealing in handicrafts, life style products and home furnishings. Her products are global in appeal and, ethnic in essence sculpted by her Indian Artisans. ‘I ensure that my products are upmarket and trendy. In addition they are of high quality and have the quintessence of the spirit of rural India’, reveals the prudent entrepreneur. No wonder then that, adorning the walls of The White House and some studios in LA are some of her creations. From wall hangings, paintings, candle stands, vases, pottery to purses, carpets and upholstery, statues, bric-a-bracs all are very painstakingly given minutest and meticulous attention to give them very stylish and a chic facade. “I draw my inspiration from the work culture in Paris”, she says, who has spent six years of her college life in Paris learning art and culture. Now she goes there to visit her son and to market her trendy items.
“Undoubtedly there is a vast market out there waiting to be lured into the mystics of traditional India. We just need to exemplify and package our products in order to market them.” An artist at heart she has an eye for the rare and the irreplaceable. The uniqueness of her handicrafts is reflected in the sedate yet urbane artistry of her creations. The metal ,wood and wax used to mould crested drawers engraved with intricate designs come with an eye to detail and knowledge of the artist’s contemporary sagacity.
Accompanying her husband on almost all-important visits throughout the country, the wife devotes time in studying art, background and living style of the people around the place. She studies the culture and the heritage of the far-flung villages to get pioneering ideas that she transforms into her creations. The blending of colours; sometimes subtle sometimes bright, relevant to the place and the artifact coupled with the flow of design come naturally to her, as she moulds the raw talent in these artisans to create world class tour de force.
In a different picture of life, whilst on tours to batallion Headquartes, she kindles warmth and hope in many a desolate hearts of our Jawans’ wives, who wait for the safe arrival of their husbands from the border areas fighting insurgency and terror. She finds time to meet the needy and the disgruntled families, who come to her for solace and help as she makes her every effort as the first lady of the regiment to look after them. “We need to educate our Jawan’s children and their widows and get them settled in life,”is her prime concern. Like her handicrafts that speak of esoteric ethnic value with a universal character, Anupama Singh is a woman of decorous upbringing and strong traditional values, a persona that complements the modern eon. Her parentage and indoctrination are reflected in her soft demeanour and affability. “My mother used to quip that what you are, reflects in your creations, art is mere manifestation of one’s true self.” Anupama’s skill truly speaks of her as an artiste, who is class apart!
Class Arts : Designs taken from Kundan Jwellery, Kalamkari Prints and Jamawar shawl.
Anupama Singh : The mother, wife and the artist. (Indl Photo)
Snap No 5
DAMSEL IN DISTRESS : One of her many paintings.
Snap No 7 :

A TIMELESS EXCURSION
The land of Sandalwood, Elephants and Coffee ! the Deccan heartland holds many topographical and natural wonders. As my hired car sped past the Western Ranges, I wondered at nature’s miracle. Thick foliage on both sides with small springs rising from small cracks and crevices on the rocks, interspersed at regular intervals. The road looked down menacingly down on the right. I was headed towards Hampi – my destination, a 350 Km drive from Bangalore, the ‘Silicon valley’ of Indian. Learing behind the hub ub of modern civilisation. I was heading for an excursion back in time. Hampi has been declared one of the world heritage Monuments of India. The 14th century capital city of the Hindu Kings called Vijaynagar Empire lies in the plateau, in the state of Karnataka. The ruins, excavated recently spread over an area of more than 26 Sq Kms, protected by the tempestuous Tungabhadra river in the north and by rocky granite ridges on the three sides. A terrain such as this was excellent for a Capital city that needed to be vigilant. It is believed that it may have been military shrewdness that made the god-conscious kings to settle for this fierce landscape. The city is said to have been founded in 1336 and later annexed by Muslim Kings in 1565. The heartbreak of 1565 defeat can still be seen in the ruins of the imperial city. Workmen seem to have fled abandoning their tools by the side of the river.
From a distance I could see the sentinels of time looming large in all their splendour. ‘We’ve arrived’, announced the guide, voicing my anxiety. Unable to quench my thirst for explanation we headed straight for the
largest temple in Hampi, the Virupaksha temple. The ride was dusty and dotted with potholes but it was worth the effort when we approached the majestic structure built on a long street, once the site of the famous Hampi Bazaar. The street runs between the temple and the foot of the Matanga hills, referred to as the Chariot street. It is a reminder of flourishing trade & commerce in this part of the Deccan. Now, under debris the paved road is being restored brick by brick. As I looked around, the old and new excavation sites, I realized that this 26 Sq Kms capital city waits to be discovered, along the banks of the river amidst the giant boulders, underneath the wild vegetation, there are secrets and treasures still unknown. As the sun dips behind the Matanga hills, I retire to my guest room, drowsy & fatigued, surrounded by visions of Kings & Queens, Courtmen & Courtesans, soon I was drooping into a dreamful sleep.
One of the most exciting aspects of visiting Hampi is the possibility of discovering something new, an excitement that one can share with the dedicated archaeologists who live on the site. Next morning, my last day in this historical place, I headed for ‘The Queen’s Bath’, it is a large square structure, bath the size of a room surrounded by arched corridors and projecting balconies, truly a bath for a queen, Near the Queen’s Bath is the ‘Hazara Rama Temple’ which was probably the kings private shrine. Carved horses, elephants, dancing girls & infantry adorns the walls of the structure.
The city is a town planner’s dream. The ‘sacred centre’ with its many temples lies along the South bank of the river Tungbhadra. It was mid afternoon, the August sun beating down on these glamourous marvels of architecture and I had no option but to start board the bus back for Bangalore, evening I will come for more – for every stone here has something to tell and teach. They beacon the traveler with their mystery.
(Fact File):
Easiest way to reach Hampi at Bangalore, book at any State Tourism Department counter for the special Hampi tour catch the night train to Hospet. A state Tourism bus will take you for a wash and breakfast at the nearest Hotel. Lunch will be served at Hampi. If you want to return the sameday (which is not recommended) then board the same bus back to Bangalore or you can book at the following hotels in Hampi for a longer stay:-
(a) Mallige Tourist Home.
(b) Inspection Bunglow, Hospet
(c) Hotel Vishwas.
(d) Hotel Mayura Vijaynagara
(e) Hampi Power Guest House
Bicycles are available for hire. Should one take a train the nearest railway station is 13 Kms away.
The best seasons for visit are October to March.
ENDS
Friday, October 9, 2009
All my sons creations.....


...Aaditya (tiger)
The sun seems far away from my dreams..
the moon is yet to be and yet so near, I have heard of its conquer!
what about the ball obscure? ...the yellow one that is so far off? The ball that looks oh so puny?
Pluto you said? came from comet says my book so tiny..
i wonder at the blue one that is my house colour and is called the Jupiter! my favourite of all
But where is life in all these wonderful rings? I wonder....
but mom says we will find in them
one day we will and that day is yet to be as I soar above
with this wonderful solar system and put wings
to hop from one to the other!!
Sunday, September 6, 2009
Rukshana Nanji stumbled upon a female human skeleton as old as three thousand five hundred years, while digging a site in Navadatoli in Madhya Pradesh. Back in the early nineties this was a stunning discovery when historians believed the Harappen Culture to be existent around the Indus. A masters degree in Archeology and Ancient History from Deccan College Pune, Rukshana is one of the few women in the country to have worked in new and ancient sites like Harappan port city, Padri, Samrapur, Daulatabad, Hampi ,Sanjan ………….. . A bizarre turn of events strikes the life of the young Archeologist. Mysteriously her discovery containing data and log books get stolen from her study in Pune. The chapter of the buried Chalcolithic woman buried deep in the heart of a big civilization clasping an herbivore molar tooth in her palms remains unsolved.
The whole episode was heart ranching for Rukshana so much so that she left archeology to look after her family business. “ I did not have enough fund to open up my trench again”. She explains. “After all, I had funded my dig. It cost me Rs 60,000/- to excavate and I did not have the heart to go back again”, she laments.
Rukshana feels that it can only be passion and Indiana Jones kind of a drive that coerce one to carry on excavating for the past. “Archeology cannot be a full time paid job. It is a vocation,” is her claim. She has been lucky to have an earning. Many others have resorted to banking, financing, and Auto sales or even travel agency to pursue this bizarre passion. Although the picture is not as bleak as it appears to be. Archeology is an umbrella field for such specialized subjects as museology, conservation, archeo-chemistry epigraphy and iconography.
After eight years of nursing a scarred heart, Rukshana is back to where she loves it the most – digging. A broken engagement to a schizo- phrenic, paedophile, half-Parsi, half- French fiancĂ© was the ultimate salt on Rukhsana’s already healing wound. She was crestfallen to find him the lunatic when disastrous facts unfolded before her when she visited him on her engagement day in Rome.
“Sanjan is a ‘benchmark site’ and it will create International history”, exclaims Rukshana. Lately she has been working here with a group of five excavators in rural parts of Valssad, in Gujarat. Preliminary but concrete evidence of thriving trade and commerce between the Persian Gulf and China have been unearthed. Working incessantly on the fields for three long months, the group has found ornate wares and urban pottery. Suggestively a very cultured and stylish lifestyle existed in rural Sanjan way back in the 7th centaury AD. “Glazed coloured pottery, coins and other artefacts in addition to a sophisticated drainage system bears testimony tom the affluent times in this part of the western coast.
A group of Zoroastrians fled persecution by Arabs in Iran to land on Sanjan way back in the 4thy centaury AD. The then monarch of the region refused asylum to the foreigners and sent them a bowl of milk instead. The travelers returned the milk after adding some sugar and a small gold ring. The king was instantly impressed at their wisdom and offered a part of the Greek.
The story has it that the sugar suggested that they would always spread sweetness and the gold coin indicated integrity. True to their word, the flock of wise men has contributed to the country’s Socio-economic status. Thus this excavation is an evidential story of eons back right at the heart of a mid-civilisation being told and established in the trenches of Sanjan. A find, not reported earlier.
“Life on the site is fun”, exclaims Rukshana. Make -shift tents, mess and dining arrangements are part of the exercise of the group. Local hands, draftsmen pullers, cooks and diggers form the group. A lot of study, research and brain storming go in before an excavation. Sometimes they are lucky to come upon a priceless statue or even remains of an ancestor who has lived, ate sung and danced. Sometimes there is nothing at all. A lot of patience, grit and determination are required to keep again. “Life itself is a big question -mark”, Rukshana preaches. And since I am a cross-word puzzle maniac I, find the whole thing quite interesting.
When not digging, she conducts workshops for school children on History and Archeology. She lets them handle pottery and wares from the digs. “It is a pleasure when the children glow with adventurism” she enthuses. In schools history texts have not been updated with modern finds and concrete evidences that will make history a practical subject.” She laments. Some of the well known excavated sites like Dhoulaveera in Kutch - Punjab region and Inamgao in Maharashtra otherwise well known in archeological circles have gone unmentioned.” Surprisingly, these Chaliohithic finds have found their mention in text books in the West.
Like her many tell-tale finds, Rukshana’s life has been full of events. A Kaleidoscopic image of bizarre happenings on and off the field and to beat it all she plans to adopt a girl child and settle down to being a single parent. Thanks to her mother and brother who have nudged her on, some day she hopes to publish her work too.
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
I find greatness in the tree that grows against all odds
"Because we all spring
From different trees
Doesn’t mean
We are not created equally
I find greatness in the tree
That grows against all odds
It blossoms in darkness
And gives birth to promising pods"
These striking lines like the scenic locale of the SOS village, Shillong is the evocative poem written intrepidly by Gustav, a volunteer from Sweden on the red notice board at the entrance of the counselor’s office. This sums up the lives of the 124 children blossoming here into talented young individuals; away from the nearness of their innate homes and parents.
The SOS villages were set up during the World War II in 1949 to provide homes to thousands of children rendered homeless all over the world by Dr. Hermann Geimner, a Swiss philanthropist. They have 34 such villages in India too. Headquartered in Vienna, Save Our Souls villages possess an ambience and the environment of the disciplined, systematic coordination of its headquarters. These villages are lesser known for their charitable discourses, and are funded by their headquarters, local churches and NGOs. Quite nondescript and veiled by long and high compound walls, these villages are hidden from the public view. The children staying here have the best of facilities of modern comfort and a comparatively comfortable childhood enjoyed by their counterparts residing in the neighbourhood.
What makes the SOS village in Shillong, one of the four such villages in the Northeastern region of India, so inimitable, is its pictorial location on top of the hillocks amidst dense green pines overlooking the picturesque tranquil waters of the Umiam lake; generally mistaken for a resort from outside its precinct The volunteers of SOS who come from over all parts of the world are so taken in by the unexplored and undisturbed environs of the premises is that they are reluctant to leave at the end of their tenure. Says Gustav, “time is running out and I do not want to leave so soon.”
Inside the village the brightly painted red thatched roofs and yellow glazed walls with small gardens growing their own vegetables and having clothesline at the backyard represent a distinct picture of the countryside cottages. As I trek up the innumerable well preserved steps made of stones, I look down the hill with the lush green manicured grass and the vegetation swaying in the morning breeze. The green water of the lake flows calmly without breaking the silence of the environment and I am unable to take my sight away. It is special to the deprived children who never feel anything but the warmth and closeness of home growing up together and sharing a family.
After I pass the family quarters I finally arrive at the office of the village. The boyish looking volunteer who looks after the all round development of the children explains, “ what we try to give the child here is the warmth of the mother, the nearness of his home, brothers and sisters and the sensitivity of community. That is why we call our establishment a village so that the children are not deprived of the feeling of one’s own identity.” “ We hire mothers who are volunteers working for our establishment. Each mother takes care of ten children and they have a home where they eat, sleep, play, help their mothers and go to local schools. We have seven such homes and these homes make a village,” offers the counselor who is full of enthusiasm and his eyes have a special gleam when he speaks about the little children aged 3months to 12 years. It is a special feeling for a visitor too to be able to share the enthusiasm and the zest of life present in these little beings as they accept the packet of clothes and toys. It is a great feeling to be able to share such simple joys with these children who need love to nurture them. A day spent with these children amidst such natural splendor and away from the pandemonium of urban life, one tends to forget the worries of life.
The government has social responsibility towards such noble organizations too. It should not only encourage the local populace to help find homes for hundreds of helpless souls but also create awareness among the population. It should have provisions where it should help these young children to recognize their talents and help them acquire jobs in institutions of repute so that they are the examples to more such children who are struck by fate and desperately require the care and warmth.
Digging the Past Glory
- vacations (1)