Mayank Chhaya Daily

‘Walking slowly because of her generous buttocks..forever youthful’

My illustration of Kalidas’s image of Urvashi’s “deer-like” eyes

In May, I started reading one of Kalidas’s three masterpieces, ‘Vikramovarshiyam’ in Sanskrit with Hindi translation/interpretation/ dissection.

This is what I wrote in May:

Reading a great epic poet and dramatist whose vintage is traced to anywhere between the first century before the current era to the fourth century current era, demands that one declutter one’s mind of 21st century constructs. However, Vikramovarshiyam remains remarkably accessible.

The basic plot is about a king named Pururva residing in the ancient capital of Pratishthanpur who counts Indra, the lord of the heaven in Hindu mythology, among his close friends. It is magical right there because by definition Indra dwells in heaven, which is not earth, and requires some sort of celestial journey. Kalidas tells us that Pururva is a regular visitor to Indra’s court which would require us to imagine that he does back and forth between our world and the other world. I am sold right there.

But then comes Urvashi, variously described as a celestial nymph, or a celestial seductress, whom Pururva falls in love with during one of his heavenly sojourns. A major twist in the story is introduced by Kalidas here. According to the Hindi translation I am reading, either through a curse or because Pururva saw Urvashi naked that the two are separated. The curse means she is turned into a vine, Lata as it is called in Hindi. Some time later, because of the divine munificence, she is again turned into her original form and the two reunite. Urvashi bears Pururva eight sons.

The very first act of the play begins with Urvashi being abducted by a demon named Keshi from whom Pururva rescues her. Kalidas’ description of Pururva’s chariot, as its slices through clouds (Yes, the chariot is flying), is striking. He writes about the chariot’s wheels crushing the clouds and kicking them up like dust. He also takes care to point out that the chariot is going so fast that the spokes in its wheels appear to be one single piece as they revolve.

Kalidas is regarded, and quite rightly so, as the greatest poet in Sanskrit whose imageries were breathtakingly detailed, picturesque, erotic and stunning. I can read Sanskrit but barely understand about .00001 percent.

Having completed more than half of the book, I continue to be amazed by how detailed Kalidas is in his descriptions, particularly of the feminine form or things erotic. At one place he writes: “Keley ke samaan jhanghon wali wah sundari kahan gai hogi!” (I wonder where that beauty with thighs like a banana has gone). I am not quite able to picture a beauty whose thighs are like a banana. Does he mean as shapely or slippery? But it is a striking description.

Then sample this one about Urvashi. “Nitambon ke bhaari honey se dheere-dheere chalne wali….sada jawan rehne wali, patli deh wali, hans ki-si chal wali, harini jaisi ankhon wali devangna (Urvashi)…” (Walking slowly because of her generous buttocks..forever youthful, slender bodied, gliding like a swan with eyes like a deer.) The image of Urvashi with all these attributes is truly beguiling.

The poet dramatist is equally brilliant at other kinds of description. For instance this bit about a red glow emanating from the cracks in a rock in a forest.

“What is that red glow emanating from the cracks in the rock? It could not be a piece of an elephant’s red meat devoured by a lion. It could also not be a fire burning within because it has rained heavily in the forest. Oh! It is perhaps the a red gemstone like a the red Ashok flower that the sunrays are trying to grab.”

The Underwear Achiever

A fake cover of a fake magazine ‘Blah!’ with real Indian model/actress Sherlyn Chopra created by somewhat real Mayank Chhaya (Picture www.sherlynchopra.com)

This morning I am confronted with two weighty issues to write about and the question is which one I should tackle first—Indian model and actress Sherlyn Chopra asserting that she did not sleep with Hugh Hefner as part of her deal to be in Playboy or India’s Outlook magazine producing a tit-for-tat, tongue-in-cheek cover calling US President Barack Obama ‘The Underachiever’?

For those of you who may not keep up with such things Time magazine’s Asia edition recently did a cover featuring India’s Prime Minister Manmohan Singh where it called him ‘The Underachiever’. That created a minor tempest in India. So Outlook, a serious news magazine, thought it a good idea to examine the US president similarly. So while the content of the cover story is bound to be serious, the initial impulse certainly appears to come up with a humorous riposte.

Since it is Friday I think The Underwear Achiever trumps The Underachiever. I am not able to offer a full measure of the 28-year-old Chopra’s accomplishments because I genuinely cannot ascertain them. But let’s just say that she knows how to make the best use of her natural endowment. I have always been a great advocate of people leveraging their best talent, be it physical or intellectual. So there is zero judgment here about how Chopra has in recent years managed to build up her celebrity by riding a wave in the rather shallow media waters. So much so that she has now become “the first Bollywood starlet to appear nude in Playboy.” She just finished shooting for the November issue of Playboy. More power to her.

That brings me to her reported comment that she did not sleep with Playboy boss Hugh Hefner. The folklore is that potential Playboy Playmates have to spend time with Hefner in the manner of his choosing before they are featured on its august pages. Chopra has been quoted by The Hindustan Times newspaper’s Minakshi Saini as saying, “I did not sleep with Mr Hefner. No one at the mansion has till date made an indecent proposal to me. I love my naked skin. Felt quite comfortable displaying my nakedness … that is all.”

When I first read it my immediate question was “How would he know if anyone slept with him?” I mean the man is 86 and notwithstanding his legendary reputation in things amorous human body has its limitations. When Chopra says she did not sleep with him, she could also mean that he was already asleep. At his age neurons take forever to travel between the brain and the groin. By the time they complete the round trip, either the brain or the groin has lost interest. But I take Chopra’s word for it.

Speaking of Chopra’s word, in a tweet on July 16, on presumably returning to Mumbai from Los Angeles after the Playboy shoot, she wrote, “Since when has masturbation become a remedy for jet lag/insomnia??Does it really work???” We will never know, Ms. Chopra, we will never know.

***

Outlook, one of India’s most respected news magazines, is coming out with this cover in response to Time Asia’s earlier cover of the same theme about India’s Prime Minister Manmohan Singh. I am sure the implicit humor in it will not take away from the seriousness of the content.

The Indian media does not seriously scrutinize goings-on America in a sustained fashion. While there is a fairly strong Indian media presence in Washington, New York, Chicago, Silicon Valley and Los Angeles it is not reflected in the quantum of serious news coverage. It is essential that the Indian media take a greater interest because all broad trends in America do eventually have an impact on India.

The Outlook cover story is done by Pranay Sharma, Ashish Kumar Sen and Seema Sirohi, the last two being friends of mine. I have not read it yet because as of this morning it is not out yet. I would not be surprised if it was Outlook boss Vinod Mehta’s idea to subject “the leader of the free world” to the same exacting scrutiny as the leader of the fairly free world, namely Manmohan Singh, was subjected to.

A bit about Rajesh Khanna’s politics

Rajesh Khanna, center, campaigning during the 1992 New Delhi parliamentary by-election. To his right is his daughter Twinkle and left his estranged wife and actress Dimple Kapadia

 

The following piece appeared worldwide on the IANS wire. The attempt is to offer a somewhat different view of Rajesh Khanna, who passed away yesterday in Mumbai.

I remember the picture above vividly because I was standing in front of the vehicle to its right. As it rolled on he asked me, “How many votes will I win by?” I just smiled.

After the voting ended a couple of weeks later he called me to ask the same question. I said, “Probably about 25,000 votes.” He did.

 

By Mayank Chhaya

In an unexpectedly deep and thoughtful comment, Jatin Khanna once described himself as the "custodian" of his own movie screen avatar Rajesh Khanna.

"I am Jatin (his real name). I am the sole custodian of Rajesh Khanna. He works for me," he told me in 1990 sitting in his permanent suite at the Ashok Hotel in New Delhi.

For someone who had been past his prime by then for a while, Khanna still retained a lot of his raging charisma as he prepared for a new role, that of a politician. That year former Prime Minister Rajiv Gandhi, who was the president of the Congress Party, was looking for some unusual non-political names to join his party to create a buzz. Khanna's name was on top of that list.

Although he said he had always been a Congress supporter, Khanna had to think hard before formally joining active politics. "My advantage is that I have earned enough name and fame. Now if I can do my little bit for the country, it would be an honor," he said.

Khanna first contested against Bharatiya Janata Party stalwart Lal Krishna Advani in 1991 parliamentary elections from the New Delhi constituency, but lost narrowly to him. However, since Advani had also contested simultaneously from the Gandhinagar constituency in Gujarat and won there as well, he vacated the New Delhi seat. The resultant byelection in 1992 saw Khanna pitted against fellow movie star Shatrughna Sinha, whom he defeated by a little over 25,000 votes. He contested again in 1996, this time from the Gandhinagar constituency in Gujarat against Advani but lost.

While his career as a politician remained sketchy after some early success, he privately nursed a grievance that the Congress party used him for the limited purposes of electoral campaigning. He thought he had it in him to contest more elections and sharpen his skills as a full-time politician. "I have no vested interests in terms of making a name or making money for myself unlike some other politicians. I think I can be in public service for the long haul," Khanna said.

During extended conversations with this journalist before he finally decided to formally enter politics, one recurring theme in his observations was about whether his stardom would help or hinder his new career. "Being recognized is a clear advantage for me but that is just the first step. I doubt if the people of India would be taken in only my being Rajesh Khanna. To quote a line from my own film, 'Yeh public hai. Yeh sab janti hai'. (This is the public. The public knows it best)."

More than anything else what Khanna seemed to be grappling with most that one afternoon in 1990 was the real prospect of losing his standing as a superstar in case he failed as a politician. "I know these are two very different fields. Unlike the movie world, the problems I would be expected to deal with here are real. I cannot have the luxury of multiple takes in politics. It demands a great deal of diligence," he said.

Also, the fact that he was handpicked by Rajiv Gandhi seemed to put a lot of pressure on him. "He is my leader and I do not want to let him down," he kept saying. However, once he took the plunge in electoral politics, campaigning for him turned out to be remarkably natural. "One cannot deny that it is after all a performance. Addressing rallies and meeting people all require a certain amount of histrionics which I possess," he said.

Khanna's public rallies were a lesson in showmanship to those journalists watching from the sidelines. He knew exactly the kind of body language to use, where to take the pause before delivering a punch line and flash a meaningful smile. Once in a while he would pander to the popular demand of saying a line or two from his most famous movies.

At a particular rally in South Delhi, the crowd asked him to recite his popular line, "Pushpa, I hate tears" from the 1972 hit 'Amar Prem'. He did but quickly improvised saying in an undisguised melodramatic fashion, "Is audience mein jitni Pushpa hein aur jitni bhi mahilayen hein, unke aansu paunchhunga mein," (I would like to wipe the tears of all the Pushpas and other women in this audience). The audience was rapturous.

Notwithstanding his obvious appeal, Khanna's career as a Member of Parliament (MP) fell way short of its early promise and he was very conscious about that. "Winning an election is one thing and then using that platform to get the actual work for ordinary people runs into a whole new set of challenges," he said.

Despite his lacklustre performance as a MP, Khanna remained a steadfast campaigner for the Congress party in several parliamentary and state elections. Himanshu Vyas, a Congress party spokesman in Gujarat who managed his campaign during the 1996 Gandhinagar election, said, "Kakaji (as he was known) swung many elections single-handedly. I can testify to it having accompanied him. He had perfected his routine and the audiences loved him. He had developed political savvy to the surprise of many."

During this correspondent's last meeting with him about two years ago, Khanna reminisced about his earlier brainstorming at the Ashok Hotel and said, "I did become a professional politician but could not become a political superstar. Kismet kahin to kum karegi (Kismet has to hold something back)."

A custodian of his own famous avatar

Rajesh Khanna in one of his early hits, Hrishikesh Mukherjee’s 1971 film ‘Anand’

The phone rang at 3 a.m. some time in November of 1990. The decibel of the ring seemed to rise with every loop as if it was conveying the rising urgency of the caller.

Only one person called me after midnight throughout the mid-1980s in Bombay and then the 1990s in Delhi for no particular reason other than just wanting to chat. No one before and since has called me past that hour.

I knew it had to be him but it was late even by his standards. I answered.

“Bastard, kya kar raha hai? (Bastard, what are you up to?)” the caller asked.

“All civilized people, Mr. Khanna, are asleep at this time,” I said.

“It is 3 o’clock. Is everything okay Mr. Khanna?” I asked.

“I am updating my will and I need your help,” he said.

“Why are you updating your will at this time? Do you have a premonition? And what help can I possibly give you in your will?” I asked rapidly.

“This is the only quiet time I get…I want to conclude the will with one last memorable paragraph. Dictate it to me,” he said.

“Why don’t we talk later in the day? I will write something for you.”

“No, I need it now. I will call you back in five minutes,” he said.

I drafted a paragraph and dictated it to him when he called five minutes later. “Bastard, tabhi to terey ko manta hun (That’s why I think highly of you),” Khanna said. He liked what I had written.

Before he put the phone down I said jocularly, “In return, the least you could do Mr. Khanna is to leave your bungalow to me.”

He laughed and said, “Kuchh nahi milega tujhe. (You would not get anything).”

That Mr. Khanna would be Rajesh Khanna, widely regarded as India’s first superstar. Incidentally, early on during our 27-year-long friendship Khanna had let it be known to me that he reserved “bastard” only for those friends whom he particularly liked.

Twenty two years after that conversation, Khanna, who was then 48, died in Mumbai today of unspecified health complications. When I woke up at my normal 5 a.m. this morning and read the news of his passing, the very first memory that came to me was this conversation. In fact, some days after that conversation when he and I met at his permanent suite at the Ashok Hotel, he said, “I am sure whenever I finally die, you will write about our conversation the other morning.”

Incidentally, “Bastard, kya kar raha hai” and “All civilized people, Mr. Khanna, are asleep at this time” became a standard opening exchange of those late night phone calls.

Do indulge me for the next few days as I reminisce about someone who enjoyed such unnerving fame and adulation, albeit for a brief period, that no matter what how you qualify it, it would still sound improbable. He and I often discussed his reputation as an insufferable and arrogant star who did not know how to handle his outrageous fame. One of his favorite explanations was, “I was in my early 20s when I became a superstar. I thought I was god and the world made sure I was right in thinking that.”

However, in his more nuanced and genuinely personal moments he would say, “I am Jatin (his real name). I am the sole custodian of Rajesh Khanna. He works for me.”

Khanna was an exceptionally generous, attentive and gracious host. One of the abiding features of our many lunches together was his fondness for a particular kind of roti called fulka. These are thin, round, puffed Indian tortilla made from wheat flour. His cook specialized in those. After they were fully cooked, the cook would burn the rotis a bit, crumple them in his bare hands and then pour a spoonful of ghee on them.

"Kabhi thodi jali aur puri kuchli roti khayi hey tuney?" (Have you had slightly burnt and crumpled rotis before?), he would ask.

"I have, why?", I would say.
"I guarantee not as good as what I serve. Better than sex. But what do you know about sex?"

I can choose to write a straightforward obit but I knew him too well and for too long for that. All these years I made it a point not to talk about our friendship much at all. Very few people knew about it until now. There are so many stories which I may never tell but those which I do are hopefully engaging. For instance, once as he and I walked into the Ashok, a family of three, father probably in his mid 40s, wife in her mid 30s and daughter younger than ten, just froze in front of us. The man was stupefied and no sound came out of his open mouth, the woman just started crying and the daughter started jumping up and down with unbridled joy. We had to make them sit down in a sofa and calm the family with a round of orange juice. Khanna hugged all three and we carried on.

In the elevator, he told me, “If this happens well past my prime, you can only imagine how crazy it was at its peak.”

Just how crazy is underscored by a rumor that gained ground during the making of his 1971 hit ‘Hathi Mere Sathi’ (Elephants, My Friends). The rumor was that an elephant had deliberately pierced Khanna’s eyes with its tusks and as a result he had gone blind. On hearing the news some young female fans tried to commit suicide. They did not pause for a moment to reason that no matter how big Khanna’s head had become or how small the elephant’s head had shrunk, the tusks could not possibly have pierced him that precisely.

I told him about that rumor and he responded, “I told you people were willing to believe anything about me in those days.”

I occasionally asked him to consider writing an autobiography. “I would end up hurting too many people if I write an honest autobiography. I would like to call it ‘My Wicked Wicked Ways.’”

For those of my readers who are not South Asian and may not know about Rajesh Khanna, it might help to watch this brilliant BBC documentary on YouTube. Type ‘Rajesh Khanna Bombay Superstar’ in YouTube search. It is a nine-part video.

Note: I hope this post does not come across as if I am flaunting my friendship with him. I had to insert myself in for obvious reasons.

A real fake interview with Manmohan Singh from his Twitter feed

India’s Prime Minister Manmohan Singh (Photo:http://pmindia.nic.in)

Since India’s Prime Minister Manmohan Singh is averse to giving media interviews, I thought it might be a good idea to convert his Twitter feed into a pretend question and answer format. Think of this as a performance interview which has never taken place but is being performed on the basis of what he has actually said about various subjects.

I managed to get some interesting reaction from him about President Barack Obama’s comments in an interview with the Press Trust of India expressing concern over the issue of foreign direct investment (FDI) in the retail sector.

This is a world exclusive because Dr. Singh has not commented on Obama’s controversial comments anywhere else. Of course, his comments are mainly observations from the United Nations Conference on Trade and Development’s (UNCTAD’s) World Investment Report 2012. Nevertheless, I have managed to get something.

I also chose to ask him about the Mahatma Gandhi National Rural Employment Guarantee Scheme (MGNREGA or MNREGA), which has been described as “the largest social welfare program in the world.”

Here is my brief “interview” with India’s prime minister drawn entirely from his official Twitter page. Needless to say that the questions have been formed later to suit the answers in the glorious tradition of fake journalism.

Do note that I have quoted his Twitter feed verbatim even though I have changed its order to make it into a cohesive narrative.

Q: President Barack Obama has said India limits or prohibits foreign direct investment such as in the retail sector. How would you respond?

PM: India is the 3rd most desirable destination for Foreign Direct Investment (FDI)--UNCTAD (United Nations Conference on Trade and Development) World Investment

Q: But complaints persist among the investing community that FDI is increasingly harder to make.

PM: "FDI inflows to S Asia turned around as a result of higher inflows to India, the dominant FDI recipient in the region” UNCTAD World Investment Report 2012

Q: There is growing concern that FDI has declined significantly recently.

PM: FACT: "The two large emerging economies, China and India, saw inflows rise by nearly 8 per cent and by 31 per cent, respectively" : UNCTAD

Q: Since I am not getting a direct answer, let me change over to a subject that you love to talk about. As we approach the conclusion of your second term as prime minister, what would you say is your government’s single biggest achievement?

PM: The Mahatma Gandhi National Rural Employment Guarantee Scheme is perhaps the UPA Govt’s (United Progressive Alliance government’s) most popular and successful flagship program.

Q: Why?

PM: It is probably true that no welfare scheme in recent memory has caught the imagination of the people as much as MGNREGA has.

Q: Do facts bear your claim out?

PM: FACT: More than 120 million jobcards are issued in MNREGA each year and more than Rs 37000 crore (Rs. 370 billion or over $7 billion) is earned by villagers across the country.

FACT: MNREGA reaches and benefits 50 million rural households in the country - almost one in four families.

Q: What is your expectation for MNREGA?

PM: If the local bodies can rise to the challenge, the MGNREGA can very well become a ‘silver bullet’ for India’s rural renewal.

Q: What is the basis of your optimism?

PM: The MGNREGA offers the promise of entitlement, empowerment, security and opportunity to millions of our marginalized citizens.

Q: One hears a great deal about late payments for those who find work under the scheme.

PM: The problem of late payments has to be addressed in Mahatma Gandhi National Rural Employment Scheme.

Q: Is it true that no welfare scheme in recent memory has caught the imagination of the people as much as MGNREGA has?

PM: It is probably true that no welfare scheme in recent memory has caught the imagination of the people as much as MGNREGA has.

President Obama slips in retail googly

President Barack Obama (White House photo by Chuck Kennedy)

President Barack Obama should have known that foreign direct investment (FDI) in the retail sector is as politically incendiary in India as outsourcing of US jobs is in America right now.

So his choosing to mildly and indirectly advise India over the question of FDI in retail has not gone down at all well in New Delhi. In an interview with Lalit K. Jha of the Press Trust of India (PTI) in Washington, the president said, “They (the American business community) tell us it is still too hard to invest in India. In too many sectors, such as retail, India limits or prohibits the foreign investment that is necessary to create jobs in both our countries, and which is necessary for India to continue to grow.”

In a broader context, President Obama also spoke in favor another “wave” of economic reforms in India. “There appears to be a growing consensus in India that the time may be right for another wave of economic reforms to make the country more competitive in the global economy,” he said. Although careful in pointing out that it was “not the place of the United States to tell other nations, including India, how to chart its economic future”, he was implicitly doing precisely that.

FDI in retail is politically toxic for Prime Minister Manmohan Singh and his coalition government with a very vocal section of the political opinion strongly opposed to it. FDI in retail is seen mainly as retail American giants such as Wal-Mart coming into India and trampling to death millions of mom-and-pop retail stores across the country. Granted that it is a simplistic view but it has great resonance in the country. That purely political construct of FDI in retail is not quite unlike how Obama’s campaign managers are hammering his Republican opponent Mitt Romney on the issue of outsourcing of American jobs.

The insistence that Bain Capital, a fund that Romney owned and ran with manifest success, also invested in companies that shipped American jobs to India and China has greatly unsettled the Romney campaign in recent weeks. So much so that it is now threatening to define him in that narrow context unless he manages to counter it effectively.

That brings me to Dr. Singh’s dilemma. As India also prepares for a general election in 2014, his Congress Party too does not want to be defined in a narrow fashion by its vociferous opponents. Although FDI in retail will happen eventually, for now Dr. Singh would like to generally reinvigorate the reforms that he himself introduced some 20 years ago. He knows the FDI in retail is an important part of that new wave of reforms but he has to tread very carefully. I am not sure if President Obama realizes that by specifically talking about FDI in retail he is necessarily putting someone he calls his close friend in a politically awkward situation.

Just how stung the Singh government felt by Obama’s comment can be illustrated by what the country’s Corporate Affairs Minister M. Veerappa Moily said: "Certain international lobbies like Vodafone are spreading this kind of a story and Obama was not properly informed about the things that are happening, particularly when India's economic fundamentals are strong.” 

Obama knows there is something to be gained by pushing the interests of American retail giants, particularly barely four months before the US presidential elections. However, it is disingenuous that in the same breath his campaign is decrying one of the natural consequences of opening markets, namely outsourcing of jobs. If Wal-Mart has been able to sell goods so cheap, it is almost entirely because it has managed to source supplies from countries such as China and India. China is able to supply goods relatively cheap because many US companies have outsourced their manufacturing there and in the process outsourced American jobs as well. In the world of free market capitalism everyone is shagging everyone else. So there is no point complaining unless you are willing to get your hand out of someone else’s underwear. I am sorry but I had to slip that in.

I am not sure if the comments in the PTI interview were part of a deliberate strategy but they seem to have played into the larger narrative.

Speaking of the PTI interview, the wire service’s Washington correspondent Lalit has managed his second interview with the president. Lalit is one of those quintessential news agency journalists who quietly persist and produce stories without any fuss. I have known him almost as long as he has been a journalist. Not the kind to seek glamor of the profession the way some broadcast media types do, Lalit is dogged in his pursuit and remarkably distant from the more showy side of journalism.

I found it galling that many newspapers and websites chose not to give him a byline for the interview. That has been the tradition in the Indian media world where wire services are treated as merely feeders although more often than not they are the ones who provide the meat. I am sure it took Lalit considerable effort to get this interview and the least that could be done by those who used it is give him a byline for it.

Struggling to recover from popcorn-soda onslaught

Someone needs to explain to me why it is permissible in movie theaters for people to eat popcorn out of a bucket the size that could bathe an entire village if it was filled with water and drink soda from a cup the size of a small baby.

While at it, also explain to me why those who consume both do so with such feverish urgency and unseemly greed, as if they have discovered both for the first time in their lives and may be eating for the last.

As I grow older I find that the list of my pet peeves is so long that it can no longer be legitimately regarded as a list of pet peeves. I now only seem to have pet peeves. It feels like life generally is one giant pet peeve.

Ever since I became of movie watching age, I have detested the idea of people eating and drinking in cinema halls. It is as if the moment people enter a movie theater, their brains fire neurons that command them in echoing tones, “Get the popcorn, get the soda…get the popcorn, get the soda.” And most of them, particularly here in America, they do. They carry those trays with drink holding holes in one hand and giant popcorn buckets in the other with such purpose that you might suspect that they have unraveled some of life’s fundamental truths.

Some of the soda cups are so big that they no longer fit in the holder on the seat’s armrest. So people have to hold them between their thighs, which melts the ice much more quickly and in the process makes them feel a profound sense of deprivation. “What?! No ice?” is what they are saying.

Twelve hours after I watched ‘The Amazing Spider-Man’ with my son Jashn at a multiplex in Naperville, I am still struggling to recover from the popcorn-soda onslaught. Jashn and I were perhaps the only two people in the mostly full hall who made it a point not to buy any food or drink at all. There was an older lady who too did not carry any food but that was mainly because she was too frail for that.

It was my utter misfortune that another father and son duo armed with a giant supply of the beverage and the snack sat in the seats to my immediate left. As soon as the movie began my nightmare began as well. The father-son combo started eating and drinking at decibel levels matching and at times overwhelming the movie’s soundtrack. That’s another thing. Have you seen how many people grab a fistful of popcorn, some of which bursting out of all sides of their fists, and stuff in their mouths? “Fuck you popcorn if you thought you could just sit in the bucket and mock me. Yeah, I am going to chew you down like the rapacious Genghis Khan,” is what I hear them say.

They make this horrendous chomping noise even as their mouths greedily search for the straw in their soda cup. Then comes the liquid sucking sound caused by the soda having to rise through layers and layers of ice. It is a like a minor geological event unfolding right next to you. The combination of the saliva-rich chomping and sucking soda has to be one of the most galling sounds in the universe other than a tantrumy baby howling. (Tantrumy is not a word but under the circumstances you should allow me to use it).

To add to my profound discomfiture, annoyance, disgust and sense of defeat, 15 minutes into this routine the teenager next to me started stabbing the straw in many different ways to extract little remnants of the soda, droplets really, that may be hiding somewhere. His problem was that his obscenely large serving of popcorn had naturally outlasted his soda and he was beginning to choke on the salty and buttery popcorn. At one point he was peering down the giant cup against the glow emanating from the screen to see where he could drill with his straw to extract soda. In between all this he would say “That’s awesome” every time some cool gadget was shown in the movie. About 40 minutes or so after he had practically licked his soda cup bone dry, the teenager raised it again in the vain hope that somehow more soda had magically materialized merely because the Spider-Man was swinging from building to building.

I tried covering my left ear and blinkering my view of him to avert a possible heart attack but that was futile because almost the entire theater was doing the same. You can probably guess by know that I am rather anal about this. So I also know that this urgent and feverish and insistent and greedy popcorn-soda binge lasts about 20 minutes. After that there is deeply satisfied silence through the remainder of the movie occasionally broken by someone belching.

Whenever I have enough money I am going to build a mini theater for myself. It will have six big sofa size seats. The other five will be reserved for those who also share my disgust for eating while watching movies. No one will be allowed to enter with so much as a food particle wedged between their teeth.

Mauve splinters and blood red cream

The Black Ice Cube in Pink Viscosity by Mayank Chhaya

I like meaningless juxtapositions of words that sound so intriguing and profound that its reader will feel hesitant to judge. That’s been my lifelong passion, I mean lines that are clever but eventually utterly devoid of any cogency at all.

Hard as you may find to believe the following seven stanzas were written off the top of my head in about five minutes. And it shows how little thought went into them.

The illustration above was done by me a couple of days ago but given the title “The Ice Cub in Pink Viscosity” in keeping with the mood of today’s post.

 

Subsidies won’t subsidize

Unless rhapsodies rhapsodize

So let’s do what we must do

But do so without further ado

***

Don’t just stand there hands akimbo

Looking askance at the sinking sky

If you must look, look how owls do

As if the universe is about to fry

***

Lotus-eaters and navel-gazers

Are never hungry or without a glow

But those who relish humble pie

May also enjoy eating crow

***

Conceit without tintinnabulation

Humility without perturbation

Religion without supplication

Science without application

***

What often mars

Our search for stars

Are the lose gravels

In melting tars

***

Life is so much skullduggery

Full of ruses and subterfuges

Unless you are a funambulist

The ropes are but nooses

***

As dawn breaks

So does my dream

Into mauve splinters

With blood red cream

From dust to dust

The site of Curiosity's landing, the darker ellipse near Mount Sharp, is 20 x 7 kilometers (Image courtesy: NASA)

As NASA’s most advanced rover Curiosity approaches Mars and prepares to land on our nearest planetary neighbor early morning on August 6, I am struck by how elemental everything is about the mission. From dust to dust aptly describes the whole massively complex and breathtakingly brilliant technological enterprise.

I am not even remotely qualified to breakdown all that goes into forging the rover but let me just point to two crucial ingredients that are extracted from the ground, earthly dust as it were. One is aluminium which forms the primary frame/structure of the rover and other is plutonium-238, heat from whose decay is converted into electricity to power Curiosity. That is one part of dust in my “From dust to dust” perspective on the mission.

The second part of dust involves the actual work that Curiosity will do on Mars. It will collect rock samples, eventually dust again, and analyze its composition to better understand Martian geology and through it, the planet’s overall composition. So what begins as dust on our own planet and used to construct the rover eventually ends up on another planet to examine dust there. If that is not truly elemental, what is? Hence from dust to dust.

With that out of my way let me tell you a little bit about how complex the mission is and how those outside NASA often fail to appreciate the amount of work that goes into making it a success. My benchmark for its success is much lower than NASA’s in that the very fact that it takes off and travels this much distance in accordance with our calculation is astonishing enough. Speaking of the distance, the average distance between Earth and Mars is 225 million kilometers (about 140 million miles). I say average because of the peculiarity of the two planets’ orbits. Their orbits are asynchronous which means that Mars can come as close to Earth as about 55 million kilometers (about 35 million miles) and move as far as 401 kilometers (about 250 million miles) depending on where in its elliptical orbit it is in relation to the Sun and us. Therefore the average works out to be 225 million kilometers. It takes about eight months to travel from Earth to Mars.

NASA launches its Mars mission to coincide with Mars’s closest approach to Earth every 26 months. Curiosity was launched on November 26, 2011 taking into the account the time it would take to cover the distance that I just described. Here is how it works. Although the rover is launched when Mars is at its closest, it reaches the planet only when it is at its farthest or in opposition to Earth. The most important reason behind the timing of the launch is that NASA wants to use the Sun’s gravity to sling it around and bring it close to the red planet. Once Curiosity approaches the Martian orbit it is slowed down by firing the boosters in order to get it trapped around Mars. It then begins its descent maneuvers. Imagine the amount of precise calculations and convergence of complex technologies that have gone into this mission.

After all this the rover gets down and dirty in the red dust of Martial soil picking up samples to analyze. The idea that we have to turn our own dust (aluminium) into something as fantastic as a rover and the equipment that surrounds it and fuel (plutonium-238) that powers it only to get dusty elsewhere is quite poetic to me.

So, so like that as the Dalai Lama likes to say.

Dara Singh, 1928-2012

Dara Singh in one of his last films ‘Jab We Met’ (When We Met) in 2007

Growing up in the 1960s, unchecked masculinity meant Dara Singh. If someone told my childhood friends that Dara Singh could lift the earth with his left hand even while eating his breakfast of aloo paratha with his right, their only question would have been “How many parathas?”

Fussy boys who picked at their food were routinely told that if they wanted to be as robust as Dara Singh, they had to eat everything. “Dara Singh would have finished this instantly,” was a commonly heard expression among exasperated mothers.

Singh’s wrestling bouts, some of which took place in Ahmedabad, lent themselves to fantastic embellishments with every retelling of what happened in the ring during a particular fight. My memory is a bit hazy but a wrestler named Randhawa (his last name), who I think was his sibling,  was often Singh’s arch nemesis. People in my neighborhood disliked Randhawa because of the simple fact that he challenged Singh in the ring. They forgot that wrestling does require two wrestlers in order for it to be wrestling. I mean Dara Singh could have just strutted about in the ring alone for ten minutes and regaled his huge fan following but what would be the point of that?

One of the stories I remember about a Singh-Randhawa encounter with some memory gaps recalls how Singh just picked up Randhawa by his ankle, twirled him around and hurled him into the audience. Even as a suggestible child eager to believe improbable things about Dara Singh, I had my doubts about this one. For instance, why would he do that to his fellow countryman? The question had to do with the fact that wrestling was often sold to us an instrument of nationalism. Dara Singh was the premier specimen of that nationalism in those days. Considering India had been independent for less than two decades when I was growing up the cauldron was bubbling with all kinds of nationalist braggadocio. One popular legend being that global wrestlers ran from Singh with tails between their legs. “He could defeat King Kong with his little finger,” was frequently heard.

At six feet two inches Dara Singh was an unusually big presence for most Indians, particularly in Gujarat where the average male was mostly never more than five feet seven inches. His fabled reputation as the “world’s greatest Indian wrestler” found repeated reiteration in his dozens of movie roles, many unabashedly underscoring his physical prowess. The combination of his real life persona as someone invincible in the ring accentuated by his screen avatar made Dara Singh quite easily India’s most authentic action hero in the 1950s, 60s and 70s. In particular, his frequent turns as Hanuman from the epic Ramayan put him above all human frailties in the eyes of his millions of fans.

A handsome man who exuded none of the confected viciousness of a prize wrestler Dara Singh, in fact, had a naturally comedic face. In later years he did do some roles that tapped into that side of his. With close to 150 films to his credit since his debut in 1952 with ‘Sangdil’ (Selfish), Dara Singh successfully harnessed his iconic status as a wrestler and sportsman. What helped him in the movie world was his imposing presence as well as measured body language that came from his years training as a wrestler. His bearing lent itself naturally to showbiz. Not a thespian by any measure, Singh made up for that shortcoming by his sheer charisma. He was one of those actors whose presence was enough to make the average audience feel that things are going to be just fine.

A little over a year ago I had written about Singh in connection with a kitschy mythological movie called ‘Bajrangbali’ which featured Singh as Bajrangbali (Hanuman). There I had said, “What Sean Connery was to James Bond, Dara Singh was to Hanuman.” It was as if his entire life distilled itself into that one super powerful character. For someone who did close to 150 movie, it is a tad unfair to let just one character overwhelm his entire body of work. As Hanuman Singh had to be content with two and a quarter expressions because of the ape makeup. In one of his last movies ‘Jab We Met’ in 2007, where he played a patriarch of a traditional Sikh family, a man with tough exterior but gentle heart, Singh was charming.

Singh’s passing today at age 84 brings to a close perhaps the most celebrated athlete-actor combination in India.