Watching change from a distance

The visit of an old friend from India over the weekend, and a discussion about developments in the Indian media among other things got me thinking, about whether someone who does not live there any more, truly understands what is meaningful and important for the people over there. 

Apparently there have been a lot of changes in the media since I left. I have had some sense of the changes, from what I have seen during my visits. I think the most fascinating change has been in the proliferation of FM radio. There was very little FM when I left, and even when I do go back I do not get an opportunity to listen to radio. What little I did hear, when we were driving down to Kanakavli from Mumbai was the exuberance, the fluid bilingualism or often trilingualism of the young hosts. It seemed however a very upper class thing though - anglicized yuppies. Apparently, radio has become very regional, and mostly aquired by the Times. The radio not only is a new foray for the newspaper giant, but also reflects a change in its approach to the paper.

Made me think about technology, particularly Information Technology and the kind of changes it brings about. When video cameras became commodity, it broke through a lot of monpolies. So, the commoditization of media technology is all a good thing, as it then becomes a means for expression for all. 

What you hear and see though, is that the authentic voice or is it mimicry? Does it take a while for the true voice to emerge. Perhaps we will have to wait and see. May be there is a form this will take that I cannot foresee

Waiting for happiness

I did watch a movie Wednesday night. After scouring through a whole long list of movies that one could watch online at Netflix, I settled on "Waiting for Happiness".

It turned out to be a fantastic discovery - (the excitement of stumbling upon something new).....in so many ways - just as most good films tend to be. It was complex, nuanced, layered, visual, non-linear and pushed the envelope of imagination in ways that other media cannot too easily. Of course this is a statement which can easily be challenged, so let me just say that this is true for me.

The film seems to have come into being around the story of a young man in his late teens, Abdullah, who has returned after having been gone for over 15 years to this little village in Mauritania. It is presumably somewhere in the Sahara, and the film makes good use of the stark beauty of the desert landscape.

Abdullah does not speak Hassaniya, the local language any more, and therefore cannot communicate with any one. Often lying in his bed, with its small square window, he whiles time away watching life outside, and little seems to register or interest him. However, even through that small aperture into the village, we see a lot of interesting little details, including one shot of a TV being carried. There is life outside, the times are changing and modernity is creeping in to this remote desert as well. We could easily believe Abdullah's version of the world - boring with little to make life interesting, till we get to know some of the people in that world.

There is the electrician, Maata, who cares for an orphan boy who is also his apprentice in the trade. We do not know where Maata came from, but he does not seem local. We do not know about the boy's roots either. They obviously have no one but each other. Their relationship is full of love, caring and respect for each other, as they hang on to each other in their rather fragile existence. Maata's parenting is somewhat comic, but genuine and touching, and it is charming to see the boy accept this rather clumsy effort.

Then we see the little girl who is learning to sing from an older teacher who obviously seems as interested in passing on something precious to someone who she seems to think is a worthy keeper of the art. Here again is a pure relationship, with art and with another person, a relationship that transcends any sense of selfish interest.

The village prostitute, was once in love with this Chinese salesperson, who sold gadgets and trinkets on street corners. We do not see Vincent speak, but we later learn she loved him a lot, and even had a child with him. She once traveled to Europe to find Vincent and tell him in person that the child did not survive.

We see all these and many more nuances of life there, the loss of tradition, the trying to retain the precious, the resolve to be happy in the most trying of places, the joy of togetherness and company, the longing for the basic human needs of love and connection, and the longing to be with one's own people elsewhere (for those who have come here and stayed). Maata seems not to be originally from here and reacts rather sadly to talk about leaving.

And, there is the desperate effort to bring that outside world to the people who find its ways strange. Maata the electrician is trying to electrify Abdullah's room so he could watch TV. When we see a TV program in another context it is running some French show. Abdullah makes weak attempts to connect. He interacts occasionally with the little boy (Maata's assistant) and tries to learn some words. A group of women who invite him to tea find his attempts to learn the language very amusing. But they all have tried to accept him and tried to make him one of them. Like so many others before him, as we see through the obviously different races there, people have come before and stayed. And while this coming and going on of people goes on, there remains a wonderful little world of rich humanity in the middle of that wilderness, where we would not look, where we least expect it.

I discovered Oumani Sangare, the Malian singer. What a lovely voice. I had not seen Mauritania before, now I think I have had a small peep.

The valet at the hotel who got me a cab the next evening is from Ethiopia. I mentioned the movie to him. He told me that he thought "Mother India" (Nargis), was one of the best movies he had seen. The cab driver also from Ethiopia, heard us talk and told me later that he too had seen 'Mother India' several times and in that corner of the world, where English and Hindi were equally strange tongues, the people chose to watch Bollywood. Just like I have been surprised by its reach in strange corners of the world, I was somewhat ashamed to hold my own country's industry in low regard. Perhaps what it doles out make meaning to a lot of people not only within the country but around the world. I am not sure, but the evidence does not agree with my own thoughts. I will leave it at that.

I did meet people who had brought that liking with them to another part of the world, where in its strangeness and perhaps coldness, they had each other (Why are there so many people from North Africa in Columbus OH?), and films from another strange land whose language they did not understand, but made them happy.

The patience lesson

D2li left this morning for Boston to participate in Model UN. She is representing Kazakhstan - UNHCR. I am not sure if K'stan is dealing with refugee issues, but who knows. There days every country in the world is making conditions unbearable, real or imagined for someone or the other. She was telling me that the sessions go late in the night. If those negotiations take time even in these mock sessions, imagine what they must be like for real. There was a tinge of frustration in her voice about how the UN processes seem to take forever. It is seemingly challenging to accomplish anything. Well, if W had learned his lessons at Model UN he might have figured out that you do not change nations overnight.

In less than a year she will be moving off to college. Time for her to take on the next stage of life. 

I sketched out ways I might rearchitect my life. It would be interesting. The uncertainty adds a pinch of uncertainty to life. And of course there are so many other things to think about. Really important ones.

I wish I could watch a movie tonight. Perhaps I should try and watch something on Netflix on line. Speaking of online, I discovered this nice routine for the morning. Listen to BBC World Service in the morning while doing other things. It gives me a sense of being at home. It is a pleasure to listen to sports around the world, and they even cover the NFL and NBA!

Catching up on lost time...

It has been almost a month since I was here last. It has indeed been a momentous month. I think I got distracted by the excitement of the election. On the night of the election, I fell asleep when the count was still short. B called to tell me we were over the magic number. I had known it would happen, but it still was unbelievable in some ways. It felt good to have felt so much and having been in some ways, however peripherally a part of a potentially pivotal moment in history.

There is perhaps not a facet now left unexplored, so there is not much to write after such a long gap. The immediacy of that emotion has drifted away. My memories do not have new words, so they must remain personal.

Everyone is now watching the appointments to see if somehow the dream will end. I wonder if we have lost our ability to judge people. We do not seem to know how to recognize a person who can be trusted, in whose capabilities we can have confidence. Or is that just me hoping? I am still confident that this person can be trusted for the very same reasons I have mentioned before - because he has a heart, a beautiful mind and a soul.

If there is something however, that still surprise me was the extent to which his election had touched people across the world. My mother for one. When I called her that weekend, it was the first thing she mentioned. She was excited and she was happy. She was hopeful for the world. It is amazing that one person should have so much power to make the world a better place. To create so much hope. How often before, has that power been conferred to others, just by them being given a position to impact the lives of so many, and how often have those opportunities been badly mauled. And in spite of those layers upon layers of disappointments, people are willing to catch on to that first wispy sliver of hope.

In this last month since the election, the news has continued to be gloomy with the economy. The system is teetering gaping into the mouth of chaos, ripe for radical transformation. Maybe it is a good thing. Sometimes when structures become non-functional, there is nothing better than having something like this happen, instead of doing a 'deliberate dive into chaos' (Snowden). We could possibly get a clean start - an opportunity to fix structural issues for new times. the only issue as usual is managing the inevitable collateral damage. I could be on that list. It is so easy and so close. I have to make structural adjustments myself. The middle-class dream is really over. One just has to wake up now.

If the economy alone was dysfunctional, I guess we could deal with it. But, the economic mis-alignments which we have been living with and in fact pushing in the name of globalization and progress, have perhaps been seeding some other malaises as well.

Mumbai got some unneeded attention with the terrorist attack. Over the thanksgiving weekend, in Paris, this event, perhaps understandably became a focus for more reasons than one. The familiarity of all the places involved, where I tend to take my nieces every time I visit, the places I often have to visit myself such as CST, where I spent over five hours the last time I was there, and so on. I kept telling myself, that none of my people had any need to be there at that time. As if that was a consolation. Whatever was happening to whoever, it all felt very like a very close and personal affront. I felt deeply sad for all the people who had to lose their lives.

And, like so many others, I realize that the security systems in India are woefully inadequate. I do not know if we can ever put in place anything that can protect a country so large, when it is not strucured for the most part for the modern approach such things demand. The crowds, the congestion, the poorly paid and equipped police - the list is endless. Even the special forces the flew down from Delhi, seemed incompetent. Seemed.

I felt that I had to look inside to find where we might have been responsible for leading to this situation. It seemed like we had done all the right things. In practicing secular democracy, for having learned to look without the traditional lenses, for having opened our hearts and minds to a new India, for having willingly signed up for it. Perhaps, we unwittingly bought into the dreams sold by innocous -looking systems of malevolence. I felt guilty somehow for having let myself be deceived.

Yet, when the tragedy was over there was something redeeming in the way the people reacted. My worst fears, that people would exploit the opportunity and retaliate along religious lines did not materialize. There seemed to be a new maturity in the country, something which has always existed I believe, but seemed to have momentarily lapsed in the recent past. I took proud note of the fact that we had a Parsi air-force chief, a muslim chief-of-police for the city, and that there was an unambiguous public committment to transcend the petty lines which a new generation of 'colonialists' were trying to draw.

Oh well, the city has once again drawn on its famed resilience. I feel hopeful that I can draw on its energies - it must run in my veins too somewhere.

Columbus was warmer and wet today. I finally slept well last night since returning frm Paris. What a jet lag!