Rights and Rituals

My free-wheeling rebellious ways were the bane of my Mother's life ever since I learnt to crawl around my childhood apartment. Went exactly where I was told not to go, never ate anything I was fed, read books that weren't meant for me, watched stuff on TV I was definitely not meant to watch ^_^ , kicked up a fuss every time I had to pray or go to the temple - you get the drift.

So rules, instructions, traditions and rituals were not for this disobedient child. And that's how it remained for a quarter of a century.

Till suddenly, a certain time of day meant waking up daily for a transcontinental phone call. Tuesdays meant that agnostic me visited a certain temple on someone else's behalf. For two weeks each year everything else (including the CEO of one's company) would be dumped in favour of quality time with someone. GTalk Video Chat (yeah, Hangouts didn't exist back then) is where I went on dates every weekend.

My Mother would have truly been proud of my new found ability to suppress the rebel in me and happily dance around all the various rituals that came to pepper my life with structure and stricture.

But you know what the funniest part was? I honestly didn't mind. In fact I actually looked forward to many of those rituals. They brought a new stability to my flitting-floating existence. They brought me and the boy closer.

And now we have made up some new rituals - some silly, some sweet - but each of which makes the love run deeper every day. The goodbye kiss every morning, the "What's for Dinner" joke each evening, the much-debated-over TV shows post dinner - each of these rituals adds another shade to the rainbow we're painting together.

With that the rebel casts aside her fear of rituals and rules and walks into the sunset with her Mr. Right (rite? right?).

When art meets function, urban design is born

Art inspires. It soothes the senses, it evokes awe at raw talent, it opens up new realms of possibility. If architecture is but applied art, then all the cement and steel structures around us must be cousins of the Sistine Chapel ceiling. Or are they? 

The dwellers of Harappa and Mohenjo Daro designed the first drainage system in the world over 4000 years ago.

An artist's recontruction of the Harappa sewer system 

The Vedic Age saw temples with mind blowing intricate carvings and sculpture dot the landscape from North to South India. The Mughals built among other architectural gems the Taj Mahal, Fatehpur Sikri, the Red Fort and more. The British gave India lovely colonial buildings and turned humdrum rail stations into landmarks like the Victoria Terminus. 




And what did we build in the last 67 years of independence? Millions of concrete monstrosities that bear a close resemblance to cereal boxes?

Why do we not aspire to leave behind a legacy that's deeper than layers and layers of tar that we pour onto our potholed streets every few months? Or has national poverty become an excuse for aesthetic poverty too? 

So when a well designed, eye-catching structure sprouts up from our urban squalor, you are pleasantly surprised; to say the least. The new Terminal 2 of the Chhatrapati Shivaji International Airport is just that and more! 

Delhi International Airport Terminal 3

It seems to have taken a leaf from the Terminal 3 at Delhi International Airport in terms of blending beauty and utility. 















The lovely peacock feather motif is that is the symbol of the Mumbai Airport is interpreted into structural themes like pillars and walkways. 

Check-in counters @ Mumbai Airport Terminal 2

Bright colours and modern design blend with traditional motifs like the diya to create a stunning travel ecosystem.  

Departure lounge @Mumbai Airport Terminal 2

Wall of diyas near Immigration @ Mumbai Airport Terminal 2

Over 7000 pieces of curated Indian art from the 10th century till date adorn the walls of this swanky addition to Mumbai's skyline. 

  After seeing all these pictures, I think I'll be as excited to land at the new airport in Mumbai as I will be to meet up with my family when I finally visit home! Yay!!!

*Deep breath*. Coming back to the point, now that all that gushing is out of my system; I certainly hope that these are the baby steps that the new India is taking towards leaving behind it's own architectural mark on history. 

'Coz won't it be a pity if future archaeologists in India find just thousands of ugly Sulabh Shauchalays from the post-independence period! 

Public Toilets or Sulabh Shauchalays

Tujhe Dosti ki Kasam!

The other day, the most random thing had me pondering over friendship and it's many avatars.

Much against the boy's strenuous protests, I decided to watch Sanjay Leela Bhansali's latest magnum opus. The reason - a couple of my acquaintances  had worked on the movie and hey, it was a Bollywood movie! In this land of goras that I'm stuck in thanks to the boy, a dash of Bollywood every now and then helped keep me "Indian". 

I had pretty high hopes from the movie; after all, these friends of mine had received such glowing praise from THEIR friends all over Facebook. In fact I felt kinda guilty that I hadn't taken the time out and watched the movie earlier. 

It started off with the usual blindingly colourful frames, grandiose sets, OTT costumes that are signature Bhansali. However, instead of the lyrical romances that you've come to expect from Mr. B, here was a tapori Gujju drama that was trying simply too hard to be funny. Or make any sense whatsoever. 

Out of respect for my loyalties towards my friends, the boy gnashed his teeth through a full 25 minutes of the movie. But when the 3rd song and dance routine in 25 minutes came on (set to a terrible music score), all his finer emotions went flying out of the window and the boy fled the room, making the lamest of lame excuses. 

I sat through the rest of the 2 hours left of the movie, wondering all the time about what all those people meant on Facebook when they called this movie the best thing to happen to India after vada pav (Yeah, I miss Mumbai.)

This got me thinking of the various sub-species of friends that we cultivate over the years. 

Jai & Veeru - Chaddi buddies personified

There are the Office Friends - you bitch with them about all that's wrong with your workplace, share your lunch and a few wisecracks with them, but you know when you walk out of the building they're are filed away till the next dreaded day of work. 

Then there are College Friends. You shared memories, beers and innumerable assignments with these guys. You meet them rarely these days, but each time you do, you make a million promises to 'do this again soon'.

School Friends occupy a more sepia toned space in your head. It shocks you each time you see the present version of your skinny, unkempt school buddies - they are (with very few exceptions) at least 10 kilos heavier, their head is lighter by at least 10 grams of hair, and they often have a wailing, attention seeking appendage in the form of a baby (or a spouse, in some cases). 

City slickers would have Building Friends or Colony Friends who were your partners in crime in the evenings after school, but these days bump into you only during Annual General Body Meetings, in line for the free food during Navratri or Ganesh Chaturthi or at the local barber's where a face to face conversation could cost you half an ear lobe.

If you live in Mumbai, you definitely have some Train Friends. You exchange notes on the latest movies, together you haggle with canny vendors peddling random crap on the train,  you save a seat for them when you manage to jump on board before them, heck; you even sing along with them all while you make your daily hour hour long commute to work and back. 

Then there are your Chaddi Friends. These guys have known you since the time you were in your chaddis, they've bailed you out of seriously sticky situations with your parents, they've endured your mopey periods of heartbreak, they've been happier than you were for your small successes, they've cried with you and called you names, they've emptied their wallets for you when the need arose and hung around even when you shooed them away. This the the sub species that inspires sing-alongs on motor bikes with side cars attached, these are the guys who play starring roles in that magical motion picture that has all the requisite Bollywood ingredients - drama, emotions, humour, bad hairstyles and larger than life set pieces - our most cherished memories. 

Dear God, grant me an extra day with this honest-to-God, bitchy, tell it like it is sub species than having to put up with 528  'FB Friends' who don't even know my middle name. Any. Frigging. Day.