A King called Ram and a Messiah called Jesus – Part 1

Note: This is the first part of a two part series on the lives of Ram and Jesus

Growing up as an Indian citizen in a Hindu household and going to school in a Catholic Convent, both Ram and Jesus have had a profound impact on my life and personality. Every Hindu child in some way or other gets to know the story of the great King Ram, revered as God and considered to be the ‘Maryada Purushottam’ – the most virtuous and best among men. Every girl is told to grow up like Sita and boy to be a son and brother like Ram. I too belong to the generation that left all other work and sat in front of the TV at 9 am on every Sunday to catch the one hour telecast of Ramanad Sagar’s ‘Ramayan’ and this indeed formed a lot of the moral values I hold close to my heart even today. If Ram was an important figure for me at home, Jesus became an all-encompassing one at school. I remember various moral science classes (yes, it was a subject in school J) when story reading meant reading a chapter from the Bible or being told a short story from the life of Jesus Christ. The nuns at school used to hand out Bibles quite freely to students and I remember carrying one such blue copy home and reading it back to back, though at the age of 12 much of what it said was beyond my comprehension. But, the story of the life, death and resurrection of Jesus moved me immensely. Luckily, those were times when students were encouraged to learn from different faiths and these simple acts of nuns at school would not be labelled as coercive conversions like today.

Ram and Jesus to me were uni-dimensional Gods who were placed on pedestals and prayed to using elaborate rituals but no attempt was made to understand them or their lives. However, as I grew up and delved more into the history of these great figures, I realized the several layers to their personalities that we miss out due to their divine status. It is in unravelling these layers that I learnt the most profound lessons about faith, religion and God.  Let me begin with Ram, the most loved and virtuous king of all times. There are many mythological stories connected to the life of Ram and most of them delve into great detail on his birth, bravery in killing several demons to protect the sages of the land, his marriage to Sita, his voluntary exile to keep the word his father had given to his step mother and the war he waged against the great demon king Ravan to rescue his wife, Sita. The greatness of Ram can be understood if we look at the times he lived in. It was an ancient time when men took several wives and kidnapping a woman to quench one’s lust was not an uncommon event. It was in times like this that Ram’s decision to be monogamous, to sacrifice his throne which was a birth right and to fight one of the fiercest battles in history to rescue his wife is unique and a sign of great strength. But Ram is revered as the greatest Kings and not only a great warrior. Hence, the time he spent in Ayodhya after his return from exile, in governing the country is a very critical period in his life and one that has been lost somewhere in the annals of history. I use the term ‘governing’ deliberately because it was Ram who established the founding principles of governing a state and his rule is often referred to as ’Ram Rajya’, a golden period in India when the citizens of his state were happy, prosperous and well looked after. Careful study of many historical texts reveals how important fairness and justice were to Ram. Hence, he toiled to create a state hierarchy which promoted merit. He is famed to have created the system whereby individuals got classified as per the potential and merit they showed towards a particular vocation. Unfortunately, this took the ugly shape of the caste system in India and is the root to many malaises in today’s society. But the intention with which Ram created this system was to ensure that every person got a life that he deserved and had the merit to live that life. He created strict codes of conduct for people and made monogamy popular in a society where the size of a man’s harem accorded him great respect and envy in the eyes of his peers.

Ram was a fair and just ruler and it is this quality that earned him the love and respect of people in his Kingdom. If one studies the times and the feats performed by Ram, while they were great and proved his valour, were also repeated by his brothers and several other great warriors in India in the future. But Ram stands out for the feat he accomplished not in the battlefield, but on the throne by calming an unsettled Kingdom and creating a moral code that governs life for many Hindu’s even today. However, in my eyes it is this penchant for fairness which was also the reason for much grief in Ram’s life. While Ram is a much revered God, one thing that my feminine mind could not reconcile with is the way he treated his wife by putting her through a trial by fire at the time he needed to be the most supportive of her. Ram’s suspicion about Sita’s piety and his offer to her to go and marry any other man in the Kingdom after he rescued her from Ravan’s Ashok Vatika is highlighted in several regional versions of Ramayan, though this particular incident is glossed over in the most popular version of Ramayan – ‘Ram Charit Manas’ written by Tulsidas.  Careful study of several folk based versions of historical texts reveals that Ram is portrayed as a great man and a brave warrior in the original Ramayan written by Valmiki, who unlike later authors got a chance to meet and interact with Ram. He was presented as a great man who perhaps also made a few mistakes in his life, specifically pertaining to his wife Sita in order to portray the right image of justice in his Kingdome. Valmiki’s Ramayan delves in to the cultural context of Ayodhya and the personality of Ram in a deep manner and explains why public perception was important to Ram. Having inherited the Kingdom from his father who was much loved by the people, Ram needed to ensure that he earned the same respect in their hearts and he needed to do this quickly owing to his being away from the heart of the throne for 14 years. This also explains his decision to be a just king rather than a trusting husband when an ordinary citizen raises a finger of doubt at his wife.  It was a decision that probably cemented his place in history as a great ruler but also caused a lot of sorrow and loneliness as being the man he was, he would never go back from the word he gave to his wife to always be faithful to her and never marry anyone else.  But, later version ascribed a divine halo to this great man, making him an incarnation of God and ridding him of any human frailties as Gods are not capable of doing anything wrong. Hence, by the time Tulsidas wrote his version, the incidents pertaining to the mistreatment of Sita and her banishment by Ram are explained in an insidious manner or glossed over completely and this is the version that became a part of popular literature and is followed by many Indians across the world.

This is the bane of History because just as the name suggests it is always ‘his- story’, a story told from someone’s perspective where one cannot distinguish between reality and perception. However, I do wish History had highlighted this aspect of Ram’s character too. Instead it focuses on Ram’s greatness and Sita’s submissiveness which may not necessarily be true as Sita was a strong woman who lived a life of her choice and even in those arduous times took on the responsibility of being a single mother to royal heirs. Sadly, this is not how she is viewed and her trial by fire in modern times has taken the guise of bride burning and Sati which continues to afflict several women in India even today. It is at times like this that I wish, we would learn to understand our deities’ lives and learn not just from their virtues but also from their mistakes. Instead, we continue to use them as a way to further divide ourselves into factions, making where they are born and how they died more important than what they taught us and what they stood for. Nothing proves this point better than the story of Jesus and the several myths and historical distortions that surround it. I will delve into greater detail in to Jesus’s life in the second part of this blog which will soon follow.

Important: The views expressed in this blog are personal and not meant to hurt or influence the sentiments of anyone.

Across the Bosphorus - Mission Istanbul

“If one had but a single glance to give the world, one should gaze on Istanbul. “

Alphonse de Lamartine

What can I say about Istanbul that has not already been said before? This fascinating city sits witness to most major civilizations of the world and has been influenced by religions and cultures of all kinds. Yet, it is not as popular as some of the other high profile European destinations and I wonder why. Because it is the perfect tourist haven with beautiful architecture, amazing food,  a rich culture that is an amalgamation of so many different sub cultures and above all  wonderfully warm people who by the way happen to love Indians (specially Indian girls from the looks of it J). Strangely, I got to discover Istanbul not as a tourist but as a working professional when I got a chance to travel there for a project. I spent several months in the city and am glad that I got to see this beautiful place slowly, a weekend at a time, at a pace all my own, instead of rushing from one splendour to the other and losing the essence of this place in the process. Because truly, the beauty of Istanbul does not lie in only in what is explicit and written in the tour books, but is truly discovered while moving across the Bosphorus and experiencing the people and their lives.

Istanbul, historically known as Byzantium and Constantinople is the largest city in Turkey and 5th largest city proper in the world with a population of 12.8 million. It is also a megacity, as well as the cultural, economic, and financial centre of Turkey. It is located on the Bosphorus Strait and encompasses the natural harbour known as the Golden Horn, in the northwest of the country. It extends both on the European (Thrace) and on the Asian (Anatolia) sides of the Bosphorus, and is thereby the only metropolis in the world that is situated on two continents.  During its long history, Istanbul had previously served as the capital of the Roman Empire (330–c.395), Byzantine Empire (c.395–1204 & 1261–1453), the Latin Empire (1204–1261), and the Ottoman Empire (1453–1922). This interesting geographical and cultural placement is what makes this city a melting pot in the truest sense and a fantastic place to explore and discover for everyone, right from history buffs to architecture aficionados to confirmed foodies and gastronomes.

Out of everything that I saw and experienced in Istanbul, what touched my heart the most are the people and the lives they tried to etch for themselves. Turkey is a country with a 98% Muslim population that tries to forge ahead strongly in today’s world on the pillars of globalization and modernization while still staying true its values and culture. It was the erstwhile president Ataturk who created a new order in this country and helped in its urbanization. It is his vision that helped Turkey adopt an English language script and encouraged women to play a critical part in economic progress. It is in this desire to progress and forge ahead as an economic power that the European side of the country gets reflected. Most youngsters in Istanbul do not like acknowledging the Asian precedents of the city and want to be known as modern and forward looking Europeans. But Asia lies just across the Bosphorus in Anatolia and comes out strongly through the close knit family culture that exists across the country.  In my effort to discover the place in a better manner, I used several modes of public transport including the ferry in Istanbul and observed the people and their outlook towards life very closely. By and large, the Turkish are a buoyant and resilient lot who do not want to get bogged down by religious fundamentalism and forge ahead, practicing their religion in their own way as they see fit. To call it as merely a liberal outlook towards life and religion would be over simplifying the hard won peace they have made with this even while extremist forces raise their head from time to time that the government and the people try to keep at bay. Yet the city is picture perfect and a perfect canvas for postcards and artists with its varied hues of architecture, minarets, villas and of course the Bosphorus that lies as a witness to major historic events.

What surprised me the most is that every time I said I was Indian, the warmth of people would double and they would ask several questions about India and its people. I remember, a colleague and I were stuck in a snow storm outside our office building and could not find any cab to get home. A waitress in a coffee shop of the building saw us struggling and gave us shelter for a few hours till things got better. When she heard that we were Indian, she plied us with free drinks and cookies and dropped us to our hotel in her car, saying all along that she loved India and was looking forward to a visit someday. On another occasion a Turkish man gave up his cab on a deserted road to help me and my friend who was also a woman to get back to our hotels while walking to his destination.  I felt it was this hospitality and warmth that was so common to both our cultures that made me feel so comfortable in a strange city so far away from home and family. Over a period of time, I realized that the commonality extended to language and food also. I discovered several common sounding words in both the languages and also hit up on the Turkish cuisine. Turkish food is full of Kebabs, dals and vegetables that are common to the Indian palate and make it very easy for people to travel across the country without pining for good food. I had the chance to go to some local eateries run from the homes of people in Anatolia where I enjoyed a delicious home cooked 5 course meal. More than anything the genuine hospitality of the locals even though we did not know their language filled my heart with much needed joy and good cheer.

The beauty about being a history buff in Istanbul is that all the greatest historical sites that one wants to see are congregated in the Sultan Ahmet district of the city, within walking distance of each other. I marvelled and enjoyed the fact that all the places I wanted to see were around a square and each one could be viewed from the gates of the other, providing a tantalizing site of treasures and stories to be discovered. The first place I saw on a quiet weekend away from work was the Hagia Sophia (pronounced as the Haya Sophia), one of the oldest historical monuments in Europe. This was built in the 6th century as a church, later converted into a mosque and now a museum. What struck me about this building was that with its domes and arches, it seemed more like a mosque than a church and I wondered about this architectural puzzle. It was on speaking to a few people that I realized that in the 6th century, churches were built with domes and minarets and this architecture was later copied by the Ottomans to build their mosques and gained popularity all across the world as the highlight of Islamic design. Now if only we could borrow so freely from each other’s faiths in the modern world and forge new faiths and cultures, our planet would be a far better place.

As I walked around the museum in jaw dropping awe at the size of the dome (touted to be the only one of its kind standing without even a pillar to support it), another fact I discovered is that for the longest time, this was the largest dome cathedral in the world. I marvelled at how clean and well preserved this old structure was and was grateful that the Byzantines and Ottomans did not destroy this sacred monument like so much else that they did in this city, to erase the marks left by old rulers and create new marks of their own. I was so fascinated by this timeless monument, that I kept going back every few nights to sit at a restaurant close by (it was convenient that it happened to be an Indian restaurantJ) and gazed at it, sparkling in the moonlight. I felt that if only buildings could talk, this monument would have so many tales to tell us about empires built, civilizations destroyed and faiths that changed, merged and started afresh. Sometimes, I felt it was whispering stories that no one around could understand and felt transported to a different era and time.

Across the road from the Hagia Sophia is another cultural and architectural splendour, the Blue Mosque also known as the Sultan Ahmet mosque.  This mosque was an Ottoman empire’s effort to leave an indelible imprint on the skyline of Istanbul. Though this mosque was built in the 16^th century, the resemblance its shape and architecture has to the Hagia Sophia is truly uncanny.  What surprised and pleased me the most about the mosque was that it was the oldest working mosque in the continent and yet it allowed people from all faiths to enter and spend time in it freely, including women. One was only required to cover their heads and carry their footwear in their hands to be allowed entry into the majestic building. I kept wondering, why it was called the Blue Mosque, but this mystery was solved, when I entered the dome and saw the walls inlaid with intricate and beautiful designs in blue mosaic all over. It could not be called by any name other than the Blue mosque. Turkey tries to be largely, a non-practicing Islamic country, but its love for the spiritual side of its religion was evident in the loving restoration of this centuries old mosque that the government was conducting. I thought this was a great testimony to the European penchant for order and organization helping in preserving the Asian affinity for culture and tradition. Everything from the mosaic on the walls, to the tiles on the floor, to the sprawling Turkish carpets in the prayer area gleamed anew and was witness to the mind-set of the Turkish to preserve not just history but also the best tenets of their culture and religion. It is this interesting co-existence of the yin and yang of life that makes Istanbul such a pleasure to discover and understand.

One can’t be in Sultan Ahmet and not visit the Grand Bazaar. This is one of the oldest and largest covered shopping areas in the world and truly lives up to its name. I was not so sure about going to this covered market as it is in a rather run down area of Sultan Ahmet and did not seem very inviting to me from the outside. But a friend dragged me inside on the pretext of buying Turkish carpets and I am glad she did. From the moment I entered the Bazaar I was lost in several sensory delights. The Bazaar was a colourful panorama of shops selling several uniquely Turkish knickknacks and smelt of cloves, cardamom and several other spices. As I visited a few stores and saw the way the shopkeepers and locals haggled, I realized I had hit up on an intensely Asian side of Istanbul, a side it does not readily acknowledge to a new comer.

Shopping at the Grand Bazaar is a lesson in Turkish culture and coquetry. Yes, you read this right, coquetry. If you are of the female species, no matter what you look like, the shop keepers will say you have a face like an angel and voice like a bird. They will try every trick in the trade to flirt with you and soften you so that you buy their wares. It definitely is a great ego booster for women and keeps them coming back to be beguiled by the sly and clever shop keepers. The market hosts everything from leather goods to knick knacks to carpets to clothes several of which are imported from Ludhiana in Punjab. I had the most delightful time haggling for a few stoles with a shopkeeper who had visited Punjab several times on business and wanted to know who the bearded man in the photos he saw all over that state was. Turns out it was Guru Nanak, the revered God of the Punjabis he was talking about, we had a heart laugh about that and I came away with a whopping discount on the stoles. Time slips away as you walk thought the tiled alley ways of the Bazaar and gain not just material things but also several friends and a unique glimpse into the arts and culture of this beautiful country.  It could turn even a non-shopper like me into an avid shopaholic and I am not saying whether I enjoyed the flirting or the shopping more J

 I have always felt that it is in aimless wanderings that we discover the most significant things in life. That is how I discovered Turkish baths and dervishes. It was a cold November night when I was returning from my regular visit to the Hagia Sophia when I spotted a large board called Turkish Hammam (traditional Turkish bath). I remembered that the Ancient Romans were avid users of the Bath concept and it is the Roman rule that left this imprint on Turkey. I was feeling adventurous that night and decided to try the Hammam after checking with local friends on the safest one. I was glad of my adventurous self as it turned out to be the most calming and relaxing experience I have ever had. It started off with the attendant leading me into a warm, humid room with a raised stone platform (goebektas) in the center, surrounded by bathing alcoves, in pretty coloured quartz tiles. The tiles remove static electricity from the air, and help to relax the mind and body. The light, diffused through glass in the ceiling was soft and relaxing. I was made to sit on the platform, which is heated, and work up a sweat. The attendant then gave me the scrub of my life, quite literally and after a heavy Swedish massage left me to sleep for a bit on the platform which was a warm shelter from the cold winds outside. I emerged from the hammam feeling refreshed and rejuvenated and ready to take on the world. I thought the Romans were quite smart to have hit up on this idea to relax and realized there were many such clever things that ancient civilizations had invented and sadly so many of them may have been lost as new civilizations destroyed the legacies of old ones.

Many Indians may have seen a whirling dervish for the first time in the song ‘Khwaja mere Khwaja’ from the epic Hindi movie ‘Jodha Akbar’. I was fortunate to have witnessed and seen an actual whirling dervish in another one of my aimless wanderings around Istanbul. Fortunately for me, the year in which I was in the city happened to be the 1000^th year celebrations of the death of the Sufi poet, Rumi. On one of my walks around the streets of the Sultan Ahmet district I saw the advertisement inviting everyone for a whirling dervish performance in the memory of Rumi and best of all it was absolutely free. I entered what seemed like a large hall and saw several foreigners congregated, waiting expectantly for the performance to begin. Everyone was curious to know the rituals of the whirling dervishes that are symbolic of a deep seated spirituality of the Sufi sect in Islam.

The rituals of the Rumi's followers (Whirling Dervishes) are among the enduring as well as the most exquisite ceremonies of spirituality. What I realized is that the ritual whirling of the dervishes was an act of love and a drama of faith. It possessed a highly structured form within which the gentle turns become increasingly dynamic as the individual dervishes strived to achieve a state of trance. The music that accompanied the whirling from beginning to end ranged from sombre to rhapsodical, its effect intended to be mesmerizing. Chanting of poetry, rhythmic rotation, and incessant music created a synthesis which, according to the faithful, induces a feeling of soaring, of ecstasy, of mystical flight. It is then that I felt that I had not just watched a performance but the dervishes own way of paying obeisance to their supreme God through their trance like state. The dervish performers also stayed back after the performance, answering question which ranged from the inane like how they did not crash into each other to the esoteric lie what was God to them. One performer I spoke to said that he had to train for 5 years to be allowed into the monastic order he belonged to and that this was not just a dance or a performance, but his way of offering prayer to the supreme Lord. I came away in a trance myself and felt extremely fortunate that I was able to stumble upon a well-kept mystical secret of this magnificent city.

Istanbul is not just about history, art and culture but is also touted to be the party capital of Eastern Europe. Nothing proves this epithet correct like the pathways full of pubs and interesting nightspots in Taksim square. I was very keen to see a belly dance performance, a form of dance that has become a very popular export to India and trolled the streets of Taksim to find an interesting place to see this dance form. However, while I enjoyed many a night spot in Taksim, I quite did not get to see the kinds of folk dances and specially belly dancing that I wanted to see, until I stepped into the restaurant on top of the Galata Tower. The Galata Tower was built in the 13^th century by the Latin rulers to serve as a lookout tower against the enemy during the crusades and is one of the longest standing and tallest structures to dot the skyline of Istanbul. What made this ancient tower even more interesting was a restaurant that had been built on the top most floor of the tower that showcased several dance forms from Turkey. It is here that I saw some authentic Turkish folk dances and also the sensuous belly dance performed by some pretty and accomplished Russians (apparently the Turkish men find Russian women more attractiveJ). I was a little mystified when the maître’ d asked us our nationality and placed an Indian flag on our table at the beginning of the meal. I forgot about it until a while later when the in house singer, Husein, came to our table, peered at our flag and started singing an old Raj Kapoor song – ‘Awara hoon’. Believe me, Raj Kapoor is still the most popular Indian hero in Turkey, even more popular than Amitabh Bachan and Shahrukh Khan and for the first time in my life, I danced to a Raj Kapoor numberJ. But it was Husein who blew our minds by singing songs in 20 different languages to cater to the people who had come from varied nationalities to share a meal and a dance at the restaurant. That night I saw another side to this city and was amused at how the icons we have forgotten are still remembered and cherished with so much love in this unlikely corner of the world.

 I am glad that out of all the chances I have had at glancing at the world, one of them was Istanbul. Even today when I close my eyes and think of the most beautiful place I have seen, the view of the magnificent city with its ancient minarets and multi layered history from the Galata Tower fills my senses and my soul. For those who have not been to this place, start saving from today itself so that you can take yourself on the adventure of a life time. Believe me you may come back poorer in money but you will be a millionaire in terms of experience and spirit.

The Invisibles

No one killed Jessica and apparently, no one killed Aarushi too.

There are a few crimes that capture the imagination of a nation and make people come together like never before. The Aarushi case is one such crime against an innocent 14 year old girl that has captured the imagination of this nation and definitely shocked, perplexed and confused several people including the CBI. It is a case I have followed very closely and feel that there are certain skeletons in this closet which may never come out if the parents of the girl themselves don’t come clean about certain facts. But, in all the hue and cry about Aarushi, the death of another human being went totally unnoticed. Hemraj, the 45 year old servant of the house who had served them loyally for years and became the easy target of suspicion initially when the murder was discovered has been laid to rest without a question or a mention in most cases. This was a man who apparently took care of the girl when the parents were not around, and in all probability got killed defending her (I don’t think I will ever subscribe to the absurd theory that the 14 year old Aarushi was having an affair with him that the Noida Police wants us to believe) and who even Nupur Talwar (Aarushi’s mother) unequivocally claims, loved the child as his own.

Why is it that while Aarushi’s death catches everyone’s attention, Hemraj’s goes unnoticed? I realised, there are so many Hemraj’s that live amongst us. They don’t lead very comfortable lives, but spend their time serving people like us and do it with a pride and happiness that we can never summon for our high profile jobs. They are all around us in the garb of the driver, the cleaner, the maid, the ‘chatwala’. But, sadly for these Hemraj’s all their efforts go unnoticed so much so that even their brutal murder and unexplained death does not merit even a mention on national news. How is it that people like Hemraj become invisible in the larger scheme of things? Why is it that their lives are not worth a protest when they get brutally murdered or run over by drunken stars that get away with it? I don’t intend to change the system’s apathy towards this class of people although I hope that someday our perspective on them changes. I only wish to highlight the quiet dignity and never ending optimism with which these people live their lives by highlighting a few experiences I had in the recent past with some people who I feel definitely merit at least a mention and a salute here.

I was recently very sick and had to undergo a surgery. As a part of the treatment process, I had to get regular injections at home. My doctor recommended a nearby clinic from where a nurse could come and give me my daily injections. That’s when I met her for the first time. She came in with a shining face and a wide smile, scampering away from my dog with a look of concern for my bed ridden self. She said her name was ‘Deepa sister’ and right off the bat assured me that I would be up and about in no time at all. She was brisk and professional at her job but somehow brought a brightness to the day and a lot of re-assurance to me on my recovery. Over the course of the next couple of weeks, I learnt that she was an orphan who worked as a maid all through her childhood in the day and got her nurse’s training in the night. She was the single mother of a teenage daughter and son whom her husband had abandoned years back. She was not sad about it but accepted her plight in a matter of fact manner. She had put her kids in a hostel so that they would get good education and be disciplined, because she being a working woman could not give them all her time. What amazed me about her was that she was not bitter or cynical because of the hardships she had faced in her life. She took pleasure in the simple things of life and would jump with joy at the thought of calling for Chinese for dinner along with the other nurses at the clinic who were on night duty with her. She did not curse her husband or God for making her life so difficult. She travelled an hour from Mahim to come to my place to give me an injection to earn an extra Rs 150 for the day but never complained. Not about the traffic or the inflation or how she got paid peanuts for all her efforts.   She helped me bear my pain with a lot more dignity because I didn’t have the heart to complain about my health or life in front of her effervescent, smiling face.

The second person I would like to talk about is Altaf. I met him when I went to eat chat at a small stall near my house. He was the boy making chat at the stall that day. He made some of the most lip smacking chat dishes I had ever eaten and if you saw him at work, you would think that he thought of himself as the master chef at the Taj kitchen. After stuffing my face with a few more ‘sev puris’ than I ought to, I wanted to get some dishes packed for a friend, who ran a boutique right next to the stall. Altaf heard me check with her what she wanted to eat and asked me not to bother with getting anything packed. He would serve her the dishes in her boutique itself. I paid him the money for it, but was not sure if he would be true to his word. But in 5 minutes, I saw him rushing into the boutique with the chat dishes that he laid down with a smile and said in broken English, “Enjoy please”. I saw him walking into the shop after a few minutes, this time carrying tissue papers with him and I realized that we would need them to clean up after we had eaten. He came back again in 15 minutes to check if we were done and also cleaned the table for us without us even asking for it. It was only after he left that one of the workers in the boutique told me that Altaf had become deaf in the recent train blasts that had rocked Mumbai. He ran the chat stall to support his family and was honest to the core. I realized, he did not hear me talking to my friend but read my lips and may be even my mind. When I see him now, whistling at his work, like he has won a huge lottery and carry his responsibility so lightly on his still young shoulders, I know that it is because of people like him that India leads in all the happiness and optimism polls that we read about irrespective of the reality of our lives.

The last invisible is Baldev Singh. He was Baldevji to all us young consultants who worked at my office and was the veritable ‘He-man’ of the office at 6.4 feet and 120 kgs. He was the office driver and responsible for carting all our consultants from one client to the other. When I first met him, I was a little intimidated by his gruff manner and earthy Punjabi tongue. But as time went by, I realised he was a gentle giant who not only cared about his job, but also about all the people he met with and carted from place to place. My family was always assured about my safety when they knew Baldevji was driving me, especially on those late night drives back from Puna or town. He kept us regaled with stories of how he has seen Bombay change to Mumbai and Shiv Sena’s metamorphosis from anti Udipi to anti UP. It was on one such long car ride back from Puna that I discovered that Baldevji came to Mumbai when he was a boy of 18 from Punjab and started his career as an auto driver. Through sheer grit, hard work and determination, he fought the local Marathi unions and got his taxi driver license and slowly became the owner of 3 taxis. I was surprised to know that he actually owned 4 cars that he gave to other cool cab drivers to drive and worked as the driver for my company because he liked the people as they gave him a lot of respect. He had put 2 sons through college with one of them actually working with an MNC Bank in Canada. I realized that he did not really need to work as a driver. But yet, when one saw him clean the car or perform his duty, he did it with a pride and contentment that we all envied. I remember, one day I was reminiscing that it had been long since I had homemade ‘paranthas’ and voila, the next day he actually had his wife make hot ‘paranthas’ for me early in the morning and made sure I polished them all off on our long ride to town. It was this empathy that he showed to us as people that made him Baldevji and not just Baldev to us.

The common link in the personalities of all these people is the grit, dignity and optimism they show in the direst circumstances in life. They live difficult lives and have only their hard work to fall back on to help them change their circumstance. They are the back bone of this country and give back much more than they take through backbreaking labour. Sadly, they are also the most vulnerable section of our society with nothing to protect them from stray terrorist bullets, irrational unions, train blasts or drunken stars running them over in their sleep. Their deaths and murders are but a by line in the papers and do not merit national attention. I guess it is the tragedy of India shining that if you do not belong to a high profile, hi flying, glitzy, glamorous sect, you are not worth the media’s or the nation’s time. But, in this New Year, I have decided, I will pay attention to these invisibles, I will understand the lives they live and fight for their right to live with dignity and die with honour. So, I am truly praying Aarushi’s killers are caught and fervently hoping that when they are, they are punished not just for brutally murdering Aarushi, but for also snatching life away from Hemraj. I fervently wish that the invisibles become visible and justice prevails for all, but above all that fairness irrespective of class is the new perspective we all gain.

This blog is dedicated to the invisibles in all our lives

The Palace intrigues and Nira Radia

Another new year, another new decade and once more the time has come for reflections and resolutions. 2010 will be remembered in history as the year of scams for India. From the common wealth games to Adarsh society to food prices to radiagate, it is a year that has made us question our politicians and their intentions like never before. No political party has escaped the scanner or come out spotlessly clean in this scrutiny. However, the scam that shook my convictions especially about media and the role it plays as the gate keeper of our social conscious has by far been ‘Radiagate’.

Being from the corporate world myself, I had never heard about Nira Radia until the tapes broke out all over Twitter and I went about searching for a copy of the Open magazine to find out what exactly was all the brouhaha about. I was fascinated by the guts, gumption, intelligence and influence of this lone woman who had powerful personas right from Rata Tata to Mukesh Ambani to Vir Sanghvi eating out of her hands. In certain instances, she was dictating their actions like they were school children waiting for the teacher’s instructions. Radia’s exploits have been much recorded and debated and she has shaken the foundation of Indian politics and media like never before. But, I kept wondering what egged her on? What did she want to achieve at the end of it? She stayed in the background, managed critical lobbying and snatched important posts for her front men through discrete phone calls and back end manoeuvring not once showing her cards fully. In this day and age, when powerful and ambitious women such as her wanted to be in the forefront of all action, how did she not give into the temptation of playing for power more explicitly and blatantly?  And then, I found my answer in the several parallels I could find between the lives of Nira Radia, Draupadi and Empress Nurjahan.

I know, these are three very different women, residing in different parts of history and living in cultures and times that were vastly different from what we see today. But all these women were powerful in their own right and were the driving force behind several wars and coups that changed the lives of millions of people. However, the exact role they played is often not captured completely in our historical texts. Had it not been for the Open magazine tapes, Radia’s role in the way politics and business is being shaped in India would also be obscured forever.  Let’s delve briefly into the lives of each of these women and see how they drove the events around them and became crucial parts of some of the most defining moments in history.

Draupadi – All we know about her is that she was married to all five of the Pandava brothers and performed her wifely duties with the utmost propriety to all of them that earned her an elevated place in history. However, I always felt that this was a uni-dimensional way of looking at one of the most complex characters in Indian history and mythology. Careful scrutiny of some historical texts throws light on Draupadi, the woman who loved one man but pledged her loyalty to five men and never swerved from her duty towards them. She prided herself on being the ‘Queen of queens’ and never allowed any of the other women her five husbands married, to step into her place thus maintaining her supremacy both in the Palace and in her husbands’ kingdom. One might look at this as the spitefulness of a jealous woman. But this was a well thought through political move which gave precedence to her and her children and nipped any political coups in the bud with the other wives never being able to step into the kingdom itself. When one reads the part she played in helping her husband turn ‘Khandavprastha’ into ‘Indraprastha’ and the vision she had to build the most beguiling palace of all times, one does not wish to begrudge her, the quest for power and kingdom. It is a tragedy that she also saw the downfall and destruction of all that she so lovingly built and nurtured.

Not many may be aware, but Draupadi had the power to stop the Kurukshetra war had she told her husbands to forget about getting revenge on her behalf. She held great influence over the five bravest warriors in history and could have got them to acquiesce to her wishes if only she said the word. Instead, she spewed vitriol for 13 years on the injustice done to her which was grave indeed, but one she could have forgiven had she been a different kind of woman. She deliberately accompanied her husbands on their exile, though she had the option to stay back at her father’s palace, an option that all their other wives took. But, she did not want the band of her influence over her husbands to be loosened and she accompanied them so that every day, she could remind them of the humiliation she had to suffer due to their inability. It is difficult for 5 men to live on revenge for 13 years but with one vengeful woman amongst them, they never had a chance to forget their revenge or her vengeance. She helped them forge key alliances during the war and held her men to the word they gave her in fits of anger and vengeance. She probably caused the deaths of millions of people and pushed several women towards widowhood while losing all her children in the battle. But, she was the veiled face, who stayed behind the palace walls and egged the greatest war of all times on. We might think it was her destiny, the task she was born to do. However, she never questioned her destiny and changed the course of history while staying behind her veil all the times and never letting the men even guess at the part she was silently and slyly playing.

Several of the Mughal empresses borrowed heavily from Draupadi’s ideology and if I may add fine-tuned the way she held her influence over the most powerful men of the land to great levels of sophistication. But, no empress did this better than Nur Jahan. Born as Meherunnissa, into the family of a lowly Persian noble who fled his homeland with 2 gold coins in his pocket, her rise to become the most powerful wife of Emperor Jahangir is the stuff of folklore. She overcame a failed first marriage that resulted in a girl child and several financial setbacks owing to the dishonesty of her father to reign supreme in the Mughal Kingdom in the early 1600’s. Those times were not easy for the women of the imperial family. The Mughal emperors were known for the harems they built and were in the habit of collecting women for these harems. Only one woman could reign supreme in the Imperial harem and she would be given the epithet of ‘Padshah Begum’. The politics that one needed to play amongst the women to become the ‘Padsha Begum’ would put today’s politicians to shame. Being the twentieth wife of an aging Emperor, known for his roving eye, Nur Jahan used all the political skill and machinations she could to reign supreme in the harem where she was a late entrant from a lowly family.  She borrowed from Draupadi, by slowly and steadily, enhancing her influence over Emperor Jahangir, the most powerful man in the Kingdom. History has it that, the King was so enamoured by her that she was to become the last wife he ever took. For 17 years, he never travelled anywhere without her at his side and took her counsel and advice on all critical matters.

 Jahangir is credited with having the vision to leave imprints of Mughal architecture all over his kingdom through the various tombs, palaces and other monuments he built. But, not many would know, that it was actually the vision of Nur Jahan who wanted both her and her husband’s name to remain in posterity. It is also believed that Shah Jahan, her estranged step son was inspired by the tomb she built for her father in his design of Taj Mahal but never gave her this credit. However, just like all ambitious woman, Nur Jahan also gave vent to her plans and greed by trying to place her dim-witted son in law Shahryar on the Mughal throne instead of the more eligible Shah Jahan. She was responsible for the bloodiest coup in Mughal times, whereby Shah Jahan killed all his brothers and caused his father’s death to get to the throne. Nur Jahan’s influence and her ambition were instrumental in Jahangir turning against his own son and had he lived longer, she may have succeeded in her plans. But his untimely death, sent her into exile and in spite of being the resourceful woman that she was, even she could not overcome the stigma of widowhood in those times to wrest power from Shah Jahan’s hands once again.

When I look at the way Nira Radia operated in enhancing her circle of influence around the who’s who of Indian business, politics and media, I can see that she is borrowing heavily from her illustrious ancestors. Modern times don’t require her to be married to a powerful man to wield her influence. But she did recognise the most powerful men and in some cases women in the triumvirate of business, media and politics and succeeded in winning their confidence. Her resourcefulness must be of gargantuan proportions as she got to handle the public relations of two differing and warring conglomerates like the Tata’s and the Ambanis. One can only guess at the balancing act she would have had to play to keep both the men happy with her work and gaining for them the political mileage they needed to succeed in their respective ambitions. Just like Draupadi and Nur Jahan, she fuelled the ambition and greed of some very powerful men to further her own agenda. I only wonder what was the goal she was leading towards and would have loved to know what was the ultimate vision she had but I realize that no good may come from that.

While the woman in me admires the guts, cunning, intelligence and ambition of all these women who have left their mark on history in some way or other, the citizen in me wishes that these immensely powerful women would have used their resources more wisely and for the greater good. I wish Draupadi had been more tolerant of the injustice of her time and avoided the death and destruction that came in the wake of her vengeance. I wish Nur Jahan would not have set the precedence of brothers killing brother for the throne. It was this precedence that got Aurangzeb to the throne after Shah Jahan and thus began the downfall of the powerful Mughal Empire. I wish Nira Radia had used her considerable connections and influence to push for more honest ministers for key portfolios. I wish she had pushed for good governance rather than a more convenient one. I realize it is naïve to think that these women could have altered the course of history singlehandedly. But the steps they took brought some key changes in our society and are probably instrumental in making us who we are. I hope that in the New Year, we can take some positive lessons from all these women and realize that we can yield immense power if we only wish to. However, it will do mankind a great deal of good if we remember that with immense power comes immense responsibility and responsibility well handled, can help us leave a better legacy for the generations to come.   

References

Palace of Illusions – Chitra Devakurni Banerjee

Mahabharata – Rajagopalachari

Twentieth wife, Feast of roses and Shadow Princess – Indu Sunderesan

Travels in the Mughal Empire – Archibald Timmins

Tolstoy Vs Austen

I am a great fan of the classics. I search every book store to get vintage copies of some of my favourites and while I am not very possessive about the books I collect, I guard my collection of classics with my life and don’t allow anyone to touch them, not even my husband. Jane Austen has been a personal favourite of mine ever since I read Pride and Prejudice as a part of my coursework in High School. I have read all her works, even the not so popular ones like Persuasions and Mansfield Park and appreciated the witty and satirical style she used in her writing which is not evident at first glance. When I read about her personal life in her biography, I realized how difficult it may have been for her to express her thoughts through her writing in England of the late 18^th century. Many would say that she was preoccupied with the efforts of Victorian women to get married and seldom swerved from this subject in all her books. But, I always felt that she understood the inner struggles and helplessness these women faced with a keen insight and a deep empathy which is evident in her books and expressed this in a style and perspective wholly her own.

Though Pride and Prejudice remains her most popular book and Elizabeth Benet and Mark Darcy the most romanticised couple, my favourite female protagonist from all her books is Lady Elinor Dashwood from Sense and Sensibility. I felt for this character, who with the passing of her father quietly takes up the responsibility of her mother and sisters on herself. She manages their accounts, steers their lives and tries to be there for them through their trials and tribulations, keeping her own heartbreak at bay. There was something incredibly brave, yet melancholic about her that always drew me to her. Her quiet ambition to do more but helplessness of the age and society in which she lived is evident in her conversation with her gentleman friend Edward Ferrars. When Ferrars expresses his search for a career in life and laments his joblessness, in her own inimitable manner she tells him, his joblessness is a matter of choice whereas hers is a matter of birth and gender that she cannot change. We as women of the 21^st century may question as to why she did not do more with all the skill she had, but if we understand the context of the late 18^th century she lived in, we will realize how remarkable it is to have a woman of her means even think on those lines. However, my only complaint with Austen regarding the character of Elinor is that she like all other Austen heroines, pines for marriage and settling down with the man she loves and undermines her own ability in the process. I always wished that some of these strong characters rebelled against the bounds of society, though only in fiction, the way Austen had done in her own life. But I guess there were some boundaries in her writing that Austen never wanted to cross. So I had to make do with characters such as Elinor as representing some real feelings and real women in literature.

It was only when I was introduced to Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina that I realized what the portrayal of a real woman in literature meant. Anna’s story beings where Einor’s ends and it is ironic, that the most layered, complex and yet truly human characterization of a woman that I have read so far came from a man such as Tolstoy, who forsake his own wife and children towards the end of his life.  Anna Karenina is a book that truly symbolized the life that higher echelons of Russian society lived in the late 17^th to mid-18^th century and created a scandal when it was released, so much so that it was banned from distribution for a number of years. It is mainly the story of the beautiful and vivacious Anna Karenina, wife of a high ranking Russian statesman, trapped in a dull and loveless marriage, who breaks the shackles of society and decides to choose her love for the rich, magnetic, handsome but confused Count Vronsky over the duty of a wife and even a mother. She is a woman who makes unapologetic choices even when her husband wants to take her back, in spite of her infidelity to give into love and lives a life of her own desire. She is cognizant of the sacrifices she has to make of her love for her son and her standing in society to follow her heart, and makes it in her own enigmatic and unique way.  

What touches me about Anna is not just her strength in following her heart, but also her vulnerability and guilt that finally leads to her downfall and death. Her struggle to live a normal life with her lover and their child whom she is never able to love as much as the son she left behind and her insurmountable insecurity about losing the lover for whom she forsake everything make her truly real and draw on my sympathy for her. She does everything in her power to keep Vronsky interested in her as she realizes, without a legally binding marriage, all she has to tie him to her is their mutual love and passion for each other. She becomes a master of farming, architecture, labour rights, Russian politics and several other subjects so that Vronsky is always dependant on her good advice in all his matters. She is truly a multi skilled and multi-faceted character with several shades of grey in her personality that is riveting, fascinating and also strangely repulsive at times. I always felt that had she lived in a different day and age, she would have had a flourishing career and a life other than the one tied to her lover which may have redeemed her spiralling descent into addiction and death.

As Tolstoy weaves the intrigues of the society in which Anna lived and creates characters that contrast with the choices that Anna made, you know that Anna’s end is an accomplished fact. Yet, as a reader I could not stop praying that this fascinating woman, somehow finds the strength to pull herself away from her debilitating suspicion and dependence on her lover and comes into her own once again. Though I didn’t always agree with the choices she made, I empathised with the life she led and wished that there was a better end for her. However, I guess Tolstoy could not show a fallen woman having a happy ending, which resulted in her throwing herself in front of a train in a fatal fit of rage to end her misery while drowning Vronsky in a lifetime of grief and guilt. In a way Anna wins at the end because that is what she always wanted, for Vronsky to never forget her though she achieves it in the most vindictive way possible.

Anna Karenina was the first time in literature that I felt an author had shown a woman in all her glory. He threw a light on not just her mystique, loveliness, accomplishments and love but also on the ugly parts of her nature. Jealousy, pride, ego, selfishness, rage and anger were as much a part of Anna as her fierce loyalty, keen intelligence and ethereal beauty. She is a character that I will not forget in a hurry. As Anna replaced Elinor as my favourite woman character and Tolstoy finds place along with Austen in the list of my favourite authors, I can’t help but be a sucker for happy endings. I wish Anna had found a happy ending like Elinor. But we cannot have everything we want I guess. However, it is characters like Anna that hold a light for us on what to do while following our heart and what not to do once our goals have been achieved.

There are only two tragedies in life. One is not getting what ones wants. The other is getting it.

Oscar Wilde.

My Mommy strongest

All women become like their mothers.  That is their tragedy.  No man does.  That's his. 

Oscar Wilde, The Importance of Being Earnest, 1895

God made mothers, because He knew he could not be there for everyone at all times. This is a truly emotional statement and as daughters while growing up, we put this statement to test innumerable times. I know I certainly did and my Mom always passed with flying colors. As I reflect on the relationship between mothers and daughters, I feel like while the vibes that fathers and daughters usually share are like the calm ripples in a serene lake, those between mothers and daughters are like tumultuous waterfalls, with sky touching highs and earth shattering lows.  When you reflect on your own relationships with your mothers, you will realize there have been several hues to it and it is a relationship that has changed in so many ways over time.

I was trying to look for a great way to define what I shared with my Mom in my growing up years, when I chanced up on this status message on a cousin’s Facebook page which summed up a mother daughter relationship perfectly.

“At age 4, we think: Mom knows everything!

At 8: Mom knows a lot!

At 12: Mom doesn't really know everything.

At 14: Mom doesn't know anything.

At 16: Mom doesn't exist.

At 18: she's old fashioned.

At 25: Maybe mom does know about this!

At 35: before we decide let's ask mom.

At 45: I wish Mom was here. She would know exactly what to do”.

These lines got me thinking about the critical milestones in my relationship with my mother. When I was a child of 4, I couldn’t stay away from Mom. I thought she was the strongest person I knew as she single handedly took care of my brother and me as my Dad was posted abroad, while also holding down a full time job. I couldn’t stay away from her and loved watching her go about her chores. I would fall asleep listening to the sound of her voice and even a few hours apart from her would be like torture. So much so that, I would constantly keep searching for her and scream her name from the balcony of our house that faced the school she taught in, much to her embarrassmentJ. I thought she knew everything and wanted to be like her in every respect. I would play teacher to my imaginary students and since I did not know English, the language she taught, I invented my own language of gibberish to imitate her.

At 8, I realized I was developing certain tastes different from those of Mom. I thought pink looked better on me than blue and she and I would argue about how much time I spent on playing and studying. But, in spite of these minor differences, Mom was the guiding force of my life and I heeded her advice in discerning the right from the wrong. I still wanted to be like her and wanted her to be proud of me. She sure knew a lot and was always around to help when I needed her the most.

At 12, I wanted my Mom to be my best friend. When I listened to my friends, speaking about their mothers and how they were involved in every minute detail of their lives, I felt pangs of envy and whished my mom was a full time mother too. I wished that my Mom were home when I got back from school like others mothers. I wished she would get involved in small things like how I should wear my hair in functions and sit with me when I did my homework. It was the first time I questioned my mother’s being the all-knowing force in my life. What I didn’t realize then and am thankful for now, is that my mother had set boundaries within which my brother and I would operate. Be it our play time, our study time or our TV time. She let us make small decisions by ourselves and helped us bear the consequences of our actions. She may not have sat with me for my homework but always kept a hawk’s eye on my progress in school and on my behavior otherwise. I knew she was not my best friend but she was the best mother a girl could have. What I realize today was she was not just bringing up a daughter, but was striving to bring up responsible and good human beings.

As the teenage years approached, my mom’s role in my life became even fuzzier. Friends became the all-important presence in my life and slowly, I saw the chasm between me and my mother grow wider. I started keeping many secrets from her, whether it was about fights with friends, which field I was truly interested in as a career, what I thought about boys and many more such thoughts. I thought she would not understand my point of view and preferred keeping quiet in her presence. She tried drawing me out a few times, but being the stubborn, pig headed person I was, I am sure I did not make it too easy for her. I was hell bent on turning into a regular rebel.

It was the guilt of my first visit to a discotheque and my first sip of alcohol in college that actually pushed me to break the barrier between us. It was an adventurous visit and we had gotten into trouble with a group of boys that truly scared me. I knew I had crossed certain boundaries I should not have and needed to talk to an adult about what I had done. I decided to test the waters with Mom. I asked her “Mom, what would you do if someone came and told you, we saw your daughter drinking at a discotheque the other day.” She turned her beautiful brown eyes to me, scanned my face, smiled imperceptibly and said,” I will say – Oh! Didn’t you see me on the next table drinking with her.” That inane remark from her broke down so many barriers. I realized, slowly but surely Mom was becoming a friend and maybe she was not really as old fashioned as I made her out to be.

I reveled in the new found friendship with Mom and soon it was time for me to move out of the house to pursue my MBA. I remember, while I was packing to shift to the hostel, Mom came up to me and said “From now on, every time you return, you will be like a guest in the house”. I was perplexed at this statement but it was so true. After that, I only came back at term breaks while in B-school and small vacations once I had started working. Today, when I look back, I realize that my Mom knew even before me that I was on the way to becoming an independent and ambitious career woman. She probably did know something about who I was and who I wanted to be after all.

My initiation into the Corporate world was not very smooth and one day, tired of the immense pressure, the bitchy boss and the snappy clients, I called Mom and told her I wanted to leave my job and come back home. I thought she would jump at the chance of me coming back home, as she never wanted me to pick up the job in Delhi anyways. But, there was silence on the other end and she just said “I know you. You will give back all the bitchiness and snappiness in double measure. So stop whining and be the woman I know you are.” It was shock therapy that worked quite well J and quite imperceptibly the flow of my relationship with Mom had changed again. I wanted her advice and looked forward to hearing her perspective on things. It was not like we did not have our share of tiffs, disagreements and arguments during this time. But somehow, along with being a mother I had started looking at her as a strong, independent woman with a unique take on life and experience to back her views

Today, at 31 Mom has become what she was not at 12. My best friend. And I thank God, that it is today rather than at 12 because I realize the value of what having her as my best friend means. It is funny but we spend a life time trying not to be like our mothers, but today I want to be more like her.  Though not like what I was at 4, but I am in awe of my mother again and wish that I can handle my life with the quiet strength and dignity that I see in her. This Christmas, I want to take the chance to tell my mother that I love her and thank her for enriching my life in so many ways and making me the woman I am. I tend to disagree with Oscar Wilde. It won’t be a tragedy if I turn out to be like my mother. It will be the biggest blessing in my life.

Merry Christmas to all you mothers and daughters. I wish that this holiday season, you take the time out to do something special for your mother and spread the holiday cheer.

“Chance made you my mother; love made you my friend.

Unknown”

(PS: Thanks for the quote and the thought Anu Vadina)

Viva Vietnam – Part 2 : Nature’s bounty

(This is the concluding part of the 2 part series of my recent trip to Vietnam. This part consists of my rendezvous with natural wonders and deep blue seas.)

Halong Bay

We reluctantly left Hanoi to get to Halong Bay, a UNESCO World Heritage site and not many would know this, one of the seven natural wonders of the world. The uniqueness of the bay is that it is a beautiful panorama of several little hills that crop up in the middle of the sea. You read right, in the middle of the sea like someone had sprinkled them over the bay and was a breath taking site to behold. We had decided to take a one night, two day cruise along the Bay. I had built this side trip into our itinerary, as I thought we would have a nice laid back time on the cruise reading books and doing nothing after all the tiring city hopping. But boy was I wrong. The cruise started off in a relaxed way  with some really great food. It was on the cruise that I realized the delicate flavours of Vietnamese food and the amazing choice that was given to the only vegetarian on the table, much to the chagrin of my meat eating friendsJ. Eating on the cruise was a gastronomic delight and after a heavy 5 course meal, I went up to the sun deck to lie down and read. I was rudely woken up by the guide Teddy, to go see some caves and follow it up with a swim on the beach. The swim on the beach was a great idea but no matter how I tried I could not explain to him that I did not want to see the caves. He just laughed and pushed me along on the steamer boat that was headed to the caves. Initially, I had thought it was a language problem, but then I realized it was his sneaky little way of dealing with troublesome foreigners who didn’t stick with the program. The caves were gigantic at 2000 sq mtrs and tiring to climb throwing my dreams of a laid back time out of the window. However, I discovered the local folklore behind the Bay. Locals believed that the little hills on the bay were actually spikes of a divine dragon that had immersed itself in the sea to aid the Vietnamese in another ancient war. The cutest part of the story was that they believed that the smaller hills were spikes of baby dragons that had come along with their mother for the adventure. However, after trudging across the caves a dip in the sea was a welcome respite and yes we did get to relax the rest of the evening or whatever was left of it.

 Unsuccessful attempts at lazing on the sundeck

 Panoramic views from the caves made it worth the climb

Mother dragon and baby dragons protecting the bay

We were woken up at 7 am the next day to be taken to a fishing village before we returned to the mainland. Again, I wasn’t interested in seeing a fishing village but Teddy would not have it. So I dragged myself to go with the rest of the group. Turns out I owed Teddy big time for dragging me on the trip as it turned out to be the highlight of the whole cruise. The fishing village was an actual floating village with school, temple, hospital and the works. About 500 people spent their entire lives in this floating village. The school was a two room boat, one for the elder children and one for the younger children. People’s houses looked like normal houses on land, except that they were floating and had boats tethered outside instead of cars parked on the driveway. It was interesting to imagine the locals  zooming or rather rowing away on their boats to attend a party or a wedding in a neighbouring villageJ. This way of life was supported by the Government who provided aid, education and required medical care to them. In return, the people of this village, kept the water around the village and the nearby lagoons which were popular tourist sites in a sparkling clean condition. It was here that I discovered the Vietnamese’s penchant for cleanliness, so much so that the fisherwomen carried trash bags in their boats that they would use to dispose waste they found floating on the sea. I wished for a quarter of this kind of cleanliness and civic sense in the Indian mind set before I was totally taken in by the beauty of the lagoon we had gone to see. We travelled to the lagoon in a 2 seater boat called the ‘sampan’ manually rowed by the local women of the village who seemed to be having a friendly race amongst themselves on who would reach the lagoon first. Needless to say our sampan won, aided by some shameless cheering by the passengers. But the cheering and hooting of the win was completely silenced by the majesty and the serenity of the lagoon we beheld. It seemed completely untouched and unspoilt in spite of the tourists and I wondered as to how these pristine surroundings were not yet discovered by Bollywood. Then, I sent up a prayer that it would not be discovered so that it continued to remain as pristine and untouched as when we found them. We left the bay humbled by the natural beauty we had seen and touched by the hard work and pride with which the locals lived their lives around this natural wonder, taking great pains to keep it clean and unpolluted. It could truly be a case study for us to preserve the many wonders we have in our culturally and naturally endowed country.

 The 'Sampan' race

 Peace and solitude of the lagoon

Floating schoolrooms

Nha Trang

No trip to Vietnam is complete without visiting the beaches the country is so popular for. We chose to visit the beach city of Nha Trang on the recommendation of a local friend. This beautiful beach town captivated me even before we had landed at the tiny airport. The collection of little islands, with sandy white beaches and plush green mountains that I saw as we were landing pushed my excitement to disproportionate levels and I could not wait to get out of the plane. As we drove away from the airport, towards the beach stretch, I had to keep reminding myself that I was in Vietnam and not in paradise. The road was completely bump free and thanks to the extra caution of our driver (did I tell you people in Vietnam do not believe in overtaking or driving over 40 MPH J), I had lots of time to take in the panorama of green trees, colourful flower displays, blue skies and clear waters that dotted the entire drive. We had a surprise in store when we got upgraded at our hotel and got to stay in the Presidential Suite, overlooking the sea. Words cannot describe what I felt when I got my first glimpse of the two shaded sea outside the room. All I could see was blue, green and white. But the best feature of the beaches in Nha Trang had to be the beautifully manicured lawns and the clean, cobbled promenades that the Government had built across the beach strip. What amazed me was that this was one of the busiest beach stretches in the country (though not as crowded as the Thai beaches) but still the promenades were so clean that one could eat food of the pavements.

 Beauty of the multi-shaded sea

Manicured lawns and wiped clean promenades that added to the beaurty of the sea

The first thing we did once we had settled in was to take an island hopping tour in a speed boat. My first speed boat ride was an exhilarating adventure and I also got to ride it for a bit while my friends held on for dear life. Of course they all lived to tell the tale. It was on this speed boat trip that I had a life changing experience – Snorkelling. It was my first time and while I had friends who were seasons divers, I put on a brave face, padded up with the equipment and got into the water. The first few minutes were the most terrifying in my life and I almost gave up until I put my head down and suddenly saw a colony of fish swim by. That’s it, I was captivated. I forgot my fears and discovered a whole new world out there. I saw multi coloured coral reefs, families of sea anemones, colonies of beautiful fishes and felt like reaching out and touching all of them. I marvelled at the completely different life that existed underwater and resolved to get my diving certification asap. These waters were some of the best or snorkelling and it is certainly an experience one should not miss when in Nha Trang.

 Cloudy islands and pebbled beaches

The trail we leave (on the speed boat)

The other big surprise for us in Nha Trang was the pub life. The beach stretch had only 2 pubs to boast of for foreign tourists, so we were not expecting much in the way of night life. But the 2 pubs made up for it my playing some truly amazing music, having bon fires by the beach and serving unique and delicious concoctions of drinks and shots that had us hooked. We sang and danced till the wee hours of the morning at the Sailing Club and were in truly high spirits when we realized that the actual action on the dance floor started after the music went off and the lights went on. It was hilarious to see youngsters trying to get the numbers of the pretty girls they were dancing with once the lights came on and flirting started in all its force at 3 am in the morning. We ourselves, missed being picked up by a few high spirited Australians, who mistook us for Bollywood dancers, I still wonder why (I suspect tipsy husbands were to blame J) and reached the hotel back intact, happy, high and hungry

The true party started only after the lights came on. Strange but true.

That was our last night in this amazing country and I we boarded our flights with hung over heads and heavy hearts. While introspecting on the flight back home, I realized that this had been such a complete holiday. We did everything one would want to do on a holiday, right from exploring history, learning about new cultures, trying amazing food, taking a cruise, enjoying water sports and life on the beach and partying till the wee hours in the morning. I could not have asked for more from a holiday and felt happy that my choice had been validated. For those of you who are wondering, I have not been paid to write this article by the Vietnamese Tourism Board. I simply wanted to share the wonderful experiences we had on this holiday with friends and family and make the world realize, how this small country is slowly but surely, finding its way on the world map and re-building its life with pride and a true vision.  I hope to go back to this great country and explore the Central region that we did not get a chance to see some day and hope to bring back many more heart warming memories. Untill then as they say in Vietnamese “Chuc Suk Khoe” – Cheers Vietnam