Bozoical Aspirations 2015

It isn't easy being a Mumbai's leading blogger dog.  Like Bozo. 

You keep hearing all kinds of news, as you watch television and peer into the newspaper held by the chronicler of your life, Deepak Amembal.

What an almighty fuss about lions, and tigers.   And some other folks come to mind too .

And then I think,  that I too must get involved.   (I have all the requisite qualifications   I come from a very ordinary background,  and grew up in a very law abiding set up, respecting 2, 3 and 4 wheelers, not to mention bipeds, in a suburb, where politics and power are inseparable. I have mastered selective barking, and internal growling.  Some say, I photograph well, and give statesmanlike intellectual poses).

Makes you think na ?   Hmm.   Ah. Something just came to mind .....

Suddenly,
Lions rule the day;
as an Transformer avatar,
in Hanover Messe
and Tiger loyalists
complain and fight
despite
enjoying their own "Save" project;
Cows recall
the time
they were an election symbol,
and
Olive Ridley turtles
saved from certain infanticide
now grateful ,
that they are in Velas.

The powerful
of the lot,
probably inspired
by the
politics of divisiveness,
planned favoring of some,
and encouraging unbridled stoked passions.

And I sit,
the cool floor calming me,
in my house in Bandra
and ruminate
on what the world has come to,
when
we simple apolitical fellows
take all these things
in our quadruped stride,
and yet
end up listening
to biped folks
saying,
" Gosh,
This place
has really gone to the dogs.."

Hmm. Maybe its time
to ask
for a nomination to someplace
they call the Dog Sabha?

Avial Heroes

Unsuspecting innocent folks trying out culinary experiments often get shocked when they suddenly receive a poem  as a comment  on their post.

My friend Ankur Pegu, discovering the joys of simple traditional vegetarian food ,  posted this photograph of some Avial made by him. Although he actually ate it with brown rice , he fantasized about having it with steaming white rice.

And then he apologized about the presentation.   I wanted to let him know, that with such food(of the Gods)  presentation doesn't matter. At all. 

And so I wrote this.

The lady in white
freshly bathed,
steaming impatiently,
hot,
and sometimes,
exchanging notes
with a ghee
melting in admiration.

And then the
rustic brinjal hero,
nudging an elderly drumstick,
minding its own,
next to
an agitated cauliflower,
as the
beans and peas junta
keep finding places
and the potato loses itself
in the
Avially paste,
trying to keep
all the heroes under control.

When the movie
is about the
Lady in White
and her Heroes,
the presentation doesn't matter;

Wherever the movie runs,
it is a Superhit....

Lawn Lifetimes.....

There cannot be anything more wondrous than walking, early one morning, on a cool wet lawn , strewn with fragrant flowers.

I think my friend Zephyr Nag did just that, and clicked this  photograph.

She made it her cover photo.  

See what I did !

(photo by Zephyr Nag)

Lawn Lifetimes.

A wondrous emergence
amidst a careful
nurture
by someone
in empathy with the green.

A coming up
in a dicey world
populated with
mindless machines riding rough shod
cutting others down to size.

A renewed effort,
amidst
an awareness
of the ways of the world;
an indulgent sheltering
by trees, shrubs,
a careful conserving
of what little remains,
and
a mindful growth
in balance
with movers and flitters
of the green.

Then
one day,
an early awakening,
eyes wet with dew,
and
the beginning of a new life
for the troubled lawn,
amidst the fragrance
of the jasmine
gently applauding
her effort
to face the world.

The Spokesman ....

With so many clever folks, doing birdwatching of unusual birds , in the wooded campus, it was odd to see a photograph of the common crow, on a closed gate,  by the lakeside, clicked by a young girl, out for a ride on her bicycle.

As she says , " As I was relaxing near the lake, this guy decided to give me company. In return I clicked his pic ......."

The fellow is clearly  political. He is making a statement of sorts, and performing for the camera.   

Like so many others we see and know.   So hear....hear ...

What shall I crib about ?

Let me count the ways .....

I am the original Akash Putra
now fighting for my rights;
it isn't easy
with the Page 3 Kingfishers,
junta style pigeons
crowding every place,
and Neta vultures and kites
gliding around,
swooping every now and then
on spying something
they simply must have...

The Guava Trees
have special reservations
for the parakeets
and the Babul trees
have been encroached on
by the Weaver Birds.

The sparrows
have impressed someone
so much,
that people research
their disappearance.

I remain,
scavenging a chapati here,
a ball of rice there,
fluttering in frustration
on balcony ledges,
cawing away,
trying to plead my case.

I guess
I need to form
a Political party.

ACP.
Aam Crow Party .

What did you think ? CID?


 

Ambadi in the time of Rice and Bhakri

One of the things that has happened since cable television , is that many stories that we heard from our grandmothers in our childhood, are now being shown as daily mythological soaps, where personalities are greatly emphasized.  In one such that i occasionally watch,  it has confirmed my opinion of Narad Muni, a sage, who specializes in triggering crises by disastrous information flow, and mindless information management ,  to say the least.

When Shruti Nargundkar, my friend from Melbourne, did  this recipe post about Gongura/Ambadi Pachadi,  Narad Muni suddenly came to mind.    With great respect to his learning and position as the guru of the gods, it occurs to me, that there is a bit of a proletarian touch  to Narad Muni, given his widely ranging travels, activities and participation,  much like the Gongura/Ambadi/Red Veined Sorrel leaves , which have great popularity across the country and elsewhere as comfort food for the ordinary man....   

स्वर्गात जर कधी अंबाडीची भाजी झाली तर त्याला वेगळेच नाव देतील … अंबाडी नाही, गोंगुरा नाही , पण नारद भाजी …. देशभर अनावरोधित वावर , कधी पठारावर, कधी डोंगरावर कधी सनातनी दाक्षिणात्य रागीट लाल बुंद देठे , कधी महालक्ष्मीच्या सानिध्यात शांतताप्रिय हिरवीगार देठे , सुरवातीला सुरवातीला निष्पाप अक्खी पाने, आणि अचानक किशोरवयात वेगवेगळे मेपल वाले आकार …। वरून दिसायला निरुपद्रवी, सर्वांना धरून, एकत्र गठ्या गठ्यात राहणारे , साधे वाटणारे , पण आतून आंबट लबाड , जरुरी प्रमाणे प्रसंग बघून रंग बदलणारे, कधी लस्णाला वाटत आपल्याशी बोलतायत, तेव्हा ज्वलंत लाल मिरच्याना कळ लावत असतात, तेलात वावर, आणि काळ वेळ बघून विविध डाळीन्शी युती. कान्देरावना वाटत, त्यांच आपल्याशिवाय अडलंय , तेव्हा मोहरी मेथी अप्सराङ्कडे बघून तेलात पडतं घेणारे नारद , आणि वातावरण यथेच्च गरम आणि एकजीव झाल्यावर सर्वांमध्ये ढवळा ढवळ करणारे नारद , स्वर्गीय भाताकडे , आणि वाट पाहणार्या भाकरीकडे , अतयंत निष्पापपणे नझर टाकतात आणि म्हणतात , "अरे संसार संसार , अंबाडी भाजी चुलीवर , नारायण, नारायण म्हणे, आता छान लागे भाकर…. "

If greens could be named after celestial personages, Ambadi/Gongura poshly known as red veined Sorrel , would qualify as Narad Muni. Unrestricted access across plains, plateaus and mountains, raging red stems in the orthodox South, a bit more accommodating green stems, intimidated by the power of Goddess Mahalakshmi in her lands, an innocent misleading roundness to life leafs, transforming into shapely maple like attitudes at puberty.. It's about safety in numbers, with an innocent face, a scheming, mischievous plan souring inside, an appearance changing to suit the heat. A smitten Garlic thinks its about her, while He is actually instigating the fiery red mirchis; He pretends to mix willingly with the elderly daals, as the onions think he is lost without them. And the all pervading, instigating Narad, finally succumbs to the charm of the cracklingly smart Mustardy Fenugreeky Apsaras, and falls straight into the oil. The tense stirring finale, the coming together, a unity of sorts, unbeliveable for a celestial Naradiya Green and when the excitement has died down, he takes a deep steamy breath, climbs onto the ladle, glances at the heavenly rice and bhakri hot in anticipation and says , "Narayan, Narayan , Life is all about the charms of Ambadi in the time of Rice and Bhakri ...."

2014 Inner Space Odyssey

My friend Sangeeta Khanna has the good fortune to live in a place where she can garden.  She also has the requisite knowledge of the needs of plants and humans, nutrition, traditional foods and cooking methods.   To top it all, she has green fingers, and  excellent clicking fingers.

This is a picture clicked by her a year ago , (so FB says) ,  in the part of her garden where she grows Roquette and Arugula Lettuce.

Kind of brought back memories, of  space, rockets,  machines, propellers , and things drifting silently in space.   Looked for the famous 2001 Space Odyssey music to include here, but then realized, that there is music in her name itself... 

 

Floating
in Green Mindspace
Fuelled by the
bees and moths
a proboscis in honey
piston powering,
as the white propellers hum.

Leaving behind
the Bokeh memories..

2014 Inner Space Odyssey

Closed Doors, Open Eyes....

The folks at "Know Your Bombay"  have a page with interesting photos that highlight Bombay or Mumbai , depending on how you think.  The spirit and quirks of the city do not depend on what you call it.

This wonderful photo, of the closed door, at the International Driving Permit section of the RTO, was clicked at 10.30 am by Akhil Kapadia. The notification on the  wall  next to 139 says that applications are accepted between 10 am and 2 pm.

The closed door probably means one of two things :

1. They've opened a window round the corner, and forgotten to notify.  Or the fellow in charge of telling people has gone for tea.

2.  It represents the ethos of what Bombay/Mumbai has become, and that I need to write something about it.   

(photo by Akhil Kapadia)

So traditional
in Mumbai
(and possibly elsewhere)
to keep eyes wide shut..

Way back,
the RTO-IDP Man
proud of the rules
permanently inscribed
on the cerebral forehead wall,
followed them to a T,
with open doors,
eyes and minds,
particularly
when exporting folks.

When you unknowingly
authorize folks
to
park illegally,
spew sulfur fumes,
overtake from the left,
meander across lanes,
use helmets as bike decoration,
speed at 100kmph,
and sometimes
treat driving as a a sport,
the only option left
is to shut up
or shut down
before you certify.

The forehead
red in anger
and the rusted hinges
creaking
at having to bear
this heavy load. ..

Orthogonal Minds

My friend Mukta Atrey recently reposted this photograph of the innards of a building , on the campus of IIT Bombay.  This photograph, was originally clicked by Akhil Kapadia and posted on "Know your Bombay".  

  It is not important to know which building, but what comes to mind is a sense of unwavering rigidity.

I have lived here since the time where open green areas exceeded the land occupied by buildings.   40 years.


A closer look indicates this to be a photograph which is part of a "Know your Bombay" series.  

Don't now about "knowing", but ,  now on the wrong side of 60 (mine),  some questions come to mind ...


(photograph by Akhil Kapadia )

Severely Orthogonal
mindsets
trapped between
ambitious vertical climbs
and
sometimes
lateral horizontal moves,
allowing in
Nature's illuminations in
just so.

Did no one get inspired
by the lake,
the trees,
and
the undulating landscape
to create
a circular winding staircase
to soften those
unrelenting ambitious edges ?

And why is it,
that structures
like hugely tall
community water tanks,
a shared resource,
never climbed
by teachers and learners,
always have spiral staircases ?

Is education
all about
straightening out folks ?

Right to Education....

Elephanta Island, with ancient caves , on the eastern seaboard of Mumbai, is populated , amongst other things, by a huge amount of Simian folks. This is a capture of a mother and child, watching the hordes coming in, now that school vacations have begun, and people go on trips before the monsoons latch on, making the catamaran trip to the island infeasible. This was clicked by a young girl, out on a day trip to the island, with her friends.

This is also a time for seeking school admissions, a complicated, anxiety ridden procedure in Mumbai. There is also , now  the Right to Education(RTE) Act.

It might be instructive to know what the mother in the photo thinks.

(photograph by Pankaja Date)

They have
a Right to Education
on the mainland
just across the Sea.

A right to attend
schools
with no bathrooms for girls,
streets with
no security for them,
backpacks full of
loads of restrictions
and sometimes
no help
if you get hurt
playing,
or being unknowingly played with.

I think
I will keep her here,
and let her learn
to respect the greens,
other monkeys,
and folks who offer food.
She will learn
history from the caves,
geography at the island,
physics wile taking a leap,
mathematics
when counting bananas swiped,
commerce while observing shops
and Phy Ed,
as she swings from tree to tree
and lands on a step.

I don't need anyone
to give me a right;
I already enjoy it here.

The Sun has No Answers....

Those of us who grew up in Pune half a century ago, rue  the loss of the old qualities of the city,  which had to do with greens, playgrounds, clean air, excellent schools and colleges, history, tradition, and a quirky pride, often misinterpreted by outsiders.

My childhood friend Vidya Vartak Joshi, just posted this capture , possibly from her terrace/balcony.

It is an essay on how things have changed.  Under the guise of "progress" and "new technology".

Can we wait for solar panels that absorb CO2 and emanate O2 one day ? 

कुणी मुक्तहस्ते द्यावे , आणि क्रुतद्न्यतेने आपणही आपले उत्तरदायित्व समजून सढळ हस्ते सर्वांना अगदी समजून वाटून टाकावे … लहान पणीचे गाव , रम्य हिरवाई , बगीचे ,खेळ , सूर्याचा प्रकाशसंश्लेषण करण्याला सहर्ष पाठींबा , स्वच्छ असामंतात धावणारी किरणे उमलणारे प्राकृतिक सप्तरंग , सेंद्रीय फळे आणि जबाबदारीने , वृक्श्वल्लीन्मुळे विहार्णारा प्राणवायू . आज हिरवं हि चाललाय हवेतलं स्वछ्च हि चाललाय , आणि तरी सुध्धा सोसा सोसाने गढूळ हवेतून किरणे येतच राहतात , सौर फळ्यांवर पडतच रहातात , कोंक्रीटचे लीडर उर्जा ओरबाडतच रहातात , आणि एक दमलेले पण विचारी चाफ्याचे झाड , उगवत्या सूर्याकडे बघून म्हणते , " हल्ली सगळाच कसं बदललाय नाही ? मन सुद्धा … सगळच गढूळ , मिळेल ते ओरबाडा , त्याला काळे -पांढरे रंग द्या , अजीर्ण होई पर्यंत खा, आणि मग डोक्यावर खोटे खोटी सौर टोपी घालून नेते म्हणून मिरवा… अरे, कोणी आयुष्यात सत्याचे रंग दॆइल, का रंग ? ."

A very generous celestial solar outpouring, and a grateful receiving by so many willing greens freely committed to the Philosophy of Giving. My childhood place, adorned in greens, gardens, and woods, an enthused Sun, conducting the Photosynthesis Symphony, with its rays, Flowers in C minor, Sweet Fruits so sharp, and a meandering Dhun in Oxygen Major, emanating in the atmosphere. Today, the greens remain starved, the air doesn't qualify for MNREGA, and yet, some dedicated rays find their way through it all. In shock at the loss of green, they fall majorly on hefty solar panels, posing just so, to grab the power and transmit it to their mindless, avaricious concrete Lords. Way up in a balcony, a mindful, hardworking Champa tree, looks up woefully at the rising sun and asks, " See how everything has changed ? Even the minds ? Pollute everything, Grab everything, Curse it black and white, Swallow the black, and then wear a fake concerned solar hat to play a leader who worries about you .... Can someone return to me,  my world of truthful natural color ?"