Inane and pointless

Must be a psychological thing, this not wanting to write until there is an Internet connection. On paper, a laptop provides me with infinite possibilities to make good use of my writing inclinations but when confronted with the ample opportunities I conveniently sidle out, This post is going to turn out like so many of them that I've put down in my journal back home. It's all about how I want to write but somehow lack the initiative to do do.

Things can only improve from now on in and that happens to be my only consolation. Coming to America and all the associated excitement is too strong a influence to let me return to my lazy ways very easily. Though I have grown past the stage of doing a cartwheel whenever I saw a Harley roaring across the roads in front of my house, I have still managed to retain a sense of wonder about how radically different things are in America. The people here seem to be obsessed with size as everything around here comes in two sizes - big and super big! The system and order that prevails here is like some kind of an otherworldly experience for us chaos hardened Indians. The houses are well kept and neat, and in a neighbourhood like ours you could never tell that so many people live here but for the occasional car making its way out of the car park. It is an unique experience and worth thousands of times more than the money I get for working in the USA. 4th of July just came and went. It'd have been a great time for me to sample first-hand the high season for American patriotism. But as usual I wasted a long weekend, lazing around at home!

The great American dream

This is a strange land with inexplicable lure! We were on our way to Boston downtown and the parking gate attendant at the Quincy Adams subway station turns out to be an Indian from Bareilly. I wonder what had made him come here. Was it just the instinct for survival which made him search for greener pastures or just a mad wish for adventure or a little bit of both? After all, not every man from Bareilly makes it to the USA and doesn't even want to. The man seemed reasonably happy too. Or maybe it was the thought of interacting with fellows from a land whose feel he longed to forget was actually making him smile then.

I'll never know because one can never ask these kind of questions outright. It'll only come out as demeaning or highly intrusive, a far deviation from the innocuous purpose behind my curiosity. So I'll be content by imagining a million possible stories on how the man got here. The American dream that drove him thousands of miles from anything even remotely resembling home to a little glass box in the suburbs of Boston is pretty difficult for me to comprehend. But dreams are too personal a thing to comment on.

A room with a view

So it begins. The American chapter of my long-forgotten blog. A million toils lie ahead of me as I have ignored this old friend for too long. There's my sister's marriage to cover, plus there's the tornado of thoughts that rages through my mind in these, my first few days in 'the land of the free'.

I look out through the windows of my carpeted studio apartment to see a red Ford Mustang and an equally red Honda CBR600 parked on my driveway. Yeah, no prizes for guessing that they ain't mine, at least not yet. But just taking a cab from a house where these kind of exotics are casting their divine glow keeps me constantly reminded about where I am. U.S.A, or at least what I've seen of it thus far is an exercise in lavishness. Huge open spaces, huge SUVs rumbling down the roads, pretty houses spaced so far apart that you could build two houses in between and superstores that could house at least 10 Indian bazaars. But its simple, since they have it, they might as well flaunt it.

And as opposed to the big, brash image that the country seems to project as a whole, they are incredibly polite and amazingly disciplined people. It's my first foreign country but I don't think its possible to be more well-behaved than they are without seeming artificial. If first impressions are the last impressions then it'll be difficult to overturn this one. I did run across a few 'punk'ish teens on the train to Taunton, and they were hardly angels! But if every one were really the same, it'd be really boring.

Uh! What else? It's a really beautiful place. New England is an area which is considered especially beautiful and Taunton (the town near Boston where I stay) falls within this zone. It's lush green all around, overflowing with blossoms, perfect weather and a general sense of utopia. I feel a bit like a fool with all those sweaters and woolen socks bursting out out of my suitcase but I'm told by all my American friends that winter will be a reality check for thin skinned Indians like me. Right now, it's spectacular weather with a bright sun and a cool breeze. There are so many things to say and so many things to do, so I'd better break this up here. This sure ain't my last post!

Mithapur

Imagine a children's park late on a moonless night. The swings though unoccupied sway restlessly in the strong breeze. The silhouette of the slide is against the clear, star filled sky. Underneath is soft, yielding sand and beyond the streetlights which cast their light on the park, there is only the light pouring from the distant stars. In that region of darkness, I can hear the yelps of foxes who are not visible and evidently do not want to be. On another day and in another place, I might have been a little tense but this night is different and so is this place. The rules from the concrete jungles do not apply here. And that's because just beyond where the swings are, the sands have frequent visitors. Every few seconds, waves from the depths of the Arabian Sea are paying them a courtesy call. This children's park is right on a sea beach and the intoxicating rhythm of the gentle swell of the sea plays on. Of all the images worth retaining from my trip to Mithapur, this one was the most striking.

Mithapur is a small, picturesque little town located on the blue Arabian Sea (as is its colour is - in and around Dwarka) near Dwarka in the north west coast of Gujarat. It owes its existence largely to the Tata Chemicals Limited plant there around which the entire economy seems to centre. The 3 hour drive from Jamnagar is a great one too with gradually undulating, smooth roads running through acres of open, uninhabited scrub land punctuated in intervals by wind farms. Wind farms being of course the evocative name for dozens of huge windmills standing guard over these desolate areas as they go about their dreary but essential business of generating power. The Tata colony is an example of beautiful planning and whats more, its got two private beaches of its own within its vast boundaries and a toy train that ferries kids during the summer months for a day out on the beach.

The tiny, single-platform Mithapur railway station (I refer to the real Indian Railways train now) opens out into a square situated in the heart of the Tata colony and its shopping area. This plant and its associated colony was set up in the late 1930s, and back then it must have been even more magnificent, literally the last outpost of civilization in the desolation of north Gujarat. Its the typical plant colony with complete self-sufficiency and especially distant location. Its the aspect that I appreciate most about set-ups like this. The whole thought process and effort that goes into creating something exotic like this out of scratch is astounding. The insularity of the location may be stifling for some people who are used to crowds and more variety but its a really exhilarating place for a visit. It was May when I visited but the weather was shockingly pleasant with the sea breeze making vicious summer take off on a holiday! Its difficult to describe the remoteness and beauty of the place and what an incredible dimension the waters of the bordering Arabian Sea add to it. A complete soul searching experience for me if there was ever one!

Storm rider

It was about 9:45 yesterday night, when I was on the way back after dropping a friend home. Calcutta roads were their usual self with killer potholes and bumper to bumper traffic. So the summer evening breeeze decided that things were moving a tad too slow for its liking. It stepped up its pace a little bit and the reactions of all the vehicles around me indicated that emergency measures were being put into motion. People ran for cover and two-wheelers quickly parked themselves alongside the footpaths. It was time for some "tumool jhodd brishti" (Violent tropical rain storm in Bengali). A regular Calcutta feature, I am told in the summer months, when the humidity gets beyond what the already melancholic Calcutta resident can withstand.

My ride being the love of my life these days, my brand new motor bike - a blue Pulsar 180. Owning this machine was a long nourished dream and the dramatic way the bike made an entry into my life makes me covet it even more. So here I was doing the biker thing, riding full on with dust blowing into my face. Vegetable vendors on the roadside bazaars were frantically trying to bring disobedient tarpaulin sheets to account and all kinds of things which a stormy breeze can pick up were flying across the roads. The first little raindrops had already started pelting down with the sting of the rain becoming quite a discomfort now and I flipped my helmet visor down. Then there was calm as my face was now curiously insulated from the mayhem all around. A very eerie sort of calm which made me quiver with excitement for what was to come. I had revelled in such massive, flash Calcutta downpours from the confines of my house or on the road, but never had had the good fortune to catch one on a bike.

With a deep throated rumble of thunder, the rain came tearing down. I was drenched to the bone in a couple of minutes but I couldn't care less. The rain went sweeping in curtains ahead of me creating waves wherever it touched the ground. The flashes of lightning revealed what was already evident. The fact that I was the only madman out on a two wheeler during the most violent phase of the storm and that I had only a handful of hulking, slow moving buses for company.

That a few minutes of rain can cause such a massive influx of water is only clear when you are out on such a night. I gripped the accelerator and twisted it up a little more just so I could hear the engine groan louder as it pounded its heart out to get me through the rising water. There were places where I knew that if the bike stalled I'd have to drag my bike home on foot, hardly the most appealing thought. But I had made my choice and the thrill of the ride ensured that I wouldn't repent it. The way the bike felt as it roared through the deserted, semi-flooded streets made me forget just about everything else. The streetlights were mysterious orbs suspended in air when seen through the sheets of rain. The road had lost its existence for the moment and there was only water, below me and in the skies above. I love the rains and I worship the open road. Yesterday I got to live in heaven for about 20 minutes.

Benares

It's close to falling to pieces; it's so overcrowded that it defies belief; for the city's people, cleanliness is definitely not next to Godliness, and yet I love the place. I was on a trip to Benares in mid-March for a family function and I found that despite the place living up to all its negative stereotypes, it's hard not to appreciate the place. To know that this was already a city in the time of Gautam Buddha and has sustained itself ever since is in itself awe-inspiring. It's evident from the time you step into the city that this is a different kind of place. The narrow, cramped lanes, the innumerable number of ancient ghats, and the expanse of the Ganga which quickly takes up the hues of the sun- all make for a grand spectacle. The evenings are especially beautiful with the tolling of temple bells all along the riverside, and the lines of lighted 'diyas' carrying a wish or the memory of a loved one into the heart of the holy river. Early morning reveals the best of Benares, when the crowds are still stirring out of their sleep, and you have the history and legends of this extraordinary place all to yourself.

Some more pics from my Benares sojourn

http://picasaweb.google.com/anuranjan.roy/Benares

The Dark Knight

My first formal introduction to Batman was through the completely corny TV serial that ran on Star Plus in the early days of cable television in India. With the "Kapow", "Bang" graphics during the fights and 'Boy Wonder' Robin's frequent "Holy Cow", "Holy Horror" dialogues, it was highly popular amongst kids back then and I too was caught up in the frenzy. But only when I graduated to the more 'real' Batman comics and the really edgy "Batman - The Animated Series" on Cartoon Network, did I start appreciating the dark, combative nature of the character.

Here is a comic character not based on the fairytale that only good things happen to good people. Victory when it finally comes to the side of the good is not without its bitter aftertaste. All characters in the strip are in various shades of gray and it does lend a very morbid and brooding atmosphere to every story. But then that's what makes it stand apart. In every struggle against his inner self or his half-mad adversaries, Bruce Wayne a.k.a Batman finds himself more in touch with his darker side. Yet his justice is not one stained with malice or grim satisfaction for the injustices life has wreaked on him, its a course correction duty that he himself would love to pull out of. His optimism even when he is at his depressed best stems from the fact that if he doesn't do the job, who else will?

Being on the right side of justice has its own heavy price to be paid, but on the other side of the fence only means a lifetime of fear and eventual, inevitable defeat. Up on the highest skyscrapers of Gotham City atop a stone gremlin, with his silhouette framed against the full moon, he represents the trials and tribulations of an active conscience to perfection. Possessed by an unshakable belief in the invincibility of his cause and powered by sheer grit, the world rests easy because it knows that justice is now an ally of the night.