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i like for you to be still Via the Plagiarist poetry archives,
indian muslims This post is directly inspired by/in response to Ranjan's post on Living in India. It'd help if you read that material before continuing. Growing up in what is one of the world's great cosmopolitan cities with a sizeable Muslim population I don't recall being discriminated against, I wasn't even aware of there being a difference between myself and my classmates except for the fact that we attended different houses of worship. I've always believed this was true not just for Bombay but for most of the country and I'm pretty sure I'm right in that regard, there are undoubtedly people of both communities who do not share this view but more or less it has been a large happy family. Till the day the riots begin that is, be it the organized demolition of the Babri Masjid, the horrifying series of bomb blasts in Bombay, the Godhra train burning and subsequent riots, or the bloody partition fifty five years ago, we as a people have demonstrated an amazing ability to metamorphose into bloodthirsty savages, worse than the wildest, filthiest of beasts. We have shown ourselves capable of an incredible degree of heartlessness, willing to sacrfice our brothers on the altars of the Gods we've chosen as our ultimate saviors. Coming to the statistics Ranjan cites, they seem to be more of perception than fact. First, India's population consists of approximately 12% Mulsims, rather than 20% (Source: CIA World FactBook), which, as an absolute number, is the third highest number of Muslims in any country after Indonesia and Pakistan. Second, that 12% is in no way evenly distributed, the Valley of Kashmir, the big cities, Bombay, Pune, Bangalore etc will themselves account for a fairly uneven portion of that percentage. If you took a sampling from Bombay and another from say a small village in Madhya Pradesh (or Orissa, or wherever), you are highly likely to see substantial deviation in the percentage of Muslims in the chosen samples. This may have accounted for Ranjan's not having come in contact with too many Muslims during his school days. Third, a statement I found most amazing, the idea that Muslims are being educated in Madrassas, this, without the benefit of any statistical backing at the moment, I can without hesitation assert, is an entirely mistaken notion. Madrassas are not a means of mainstream education for Indian Muslims, they are a source of Islamic education, which more or less consists of learning to recite the Quran, without even the benefit of understanding it, an issue that has rankled me in the past. Except perhaps for the state of Uttar Pradesh, even those Muslims who do not attend schools where the medium on instruction is English, go to schools which teach in Urdu. Fourth, the Godhra riots were not a one-off tragedy as Ranjan states, I'm suprised he says this in the face of incidents I've already cited, we seem to be capable of horrendous carnage, from trains filled with the bodies of men, women and children during the partition years to the train compartment being burnt down in Gujrat, such tragedies seem to have become a part of life, as if the tension is always simmering under the lid and bursts open like an angry storm every six or seven years. Obviously Ranjan has a vision of seeing the larger Muslim populace live up to its responsibilities as India marches toward a glowing and very promising future, and the enjoy the fruits of that prosperity alongside Indians of every creed, belief and leaning. I've never doubted the power of education in transforming peoples, and that is the tool I hope is used liberally in this struggle. Indian Muslims are having to grapple with not only their own social, economic and religious issues but also with the larger issue of Islamic fundamentalism and Islam's relationship with the West. There is a crying need for reform, a leadership that knows how to reconcile the Islamic identity with a citizenship of the world, not just of India and that leadership cannot be left to the mullahs or the imams. Thankfully, Indian Muslims have less suffered the corruption of that group than Muslims elsewhere but this is small consolation for the need for responsible and ethical leadership remains, like a festering open wound. One of my big concerns is the degree of ignorance I've had to face from otherwise well meaning friends, "So, does you dad too have two wives?" one of my friends asked me once, "Do you support Pakistan or India in this whole Kargil thing Ubaid?" asked another, questions I deemed too inane to merit a response. No, Indian Muslims do not believe in a special kinship with Pakistan, or any other Muslim country for that matter, the only brotherhood we have with them, as with anyone else, is the brotherhood of man. As Ranjan says, there are bothersome stereotypes that need to be dealt with as Indian Muslims stand up and do their part in our nation's march toward prosperity. Note - This post also appears on Living in India, here.
salman rushdie and the verses It is, in a way, unfortunate that Salman Rushdie ever wrote the Satanic Verses, for that one book has served to foreshadow his entire writing career, rather his life for the past fifteen years or so. A long time ago, as I read Midnight's Children in a train on my way home for engineering college I was accosted by a young gent, who somehow guessed I was Muslim and questioned me on the propriety of reading a book by the man who was so passionately hated by most of the Islamic world. Instead of taking sides I merely said I preferred to understand a situation rather than denounce someone on heresy. Midnight's Children was well written, especially the frequent invocation of what is called Bambaiya Hindi, Bombay's own lexicon, a large dose of colloquial Hindi liberally sprinkled with words from Urdu, Gujrati, Marathi, Punjabi and, of course, English. My scholastic responsibilities at the time were sufficiently heavy that the book was read in little bursts and quickly forgotten once finished, it was only last year that I tried reading the Satanic Verses from an HTML version, a format I confess I'm not quite used to, and did not get past the first three chapters. Some weeks ago, while browsing through the shelves of the local public library I chanced upon Haroun and the Sea of Stories, as well as The Satanic Verses and grabbed both, Rushdie was to get a third chance. His writing is like a floor strewn with shards of colored glass, to be tread on carefully, the colors recognizable from the city both of us have called home and grown up in, the glass pieces remanants of ideals shot down my an iconoclast. It is difficult to see how anyone who had a childhood in the city of Bombay would actually dislike what he writes, he seems to have the ethos down pat, perfect, and writes with a rare mastery of language, seemingly flippant but ultimately rather controlled. Haroun and the Sea of Stories is a great children's book, it is also full of references to censorship and a free society, an examination of the good and bad in both, a must read for anyone who enjoys writing that sparkles with imagination. As for the Verses, that's on my plate, waiting.
moving on In eight months I'm now ready to move to my third job. Eight months, two cities, three companies, two houses and a great deal of moving. When my current company offered a position back in November I was relieved, but not satisfied, for even though it meant I could continue living and working in the United States I wouldn't be in Computer Networks, the field I'd spent the last two years studying, sweating over, preparing for. It wasn't a career I'd envisioned but, as my reasoning went, as long as I'm not being forced to go back to India, as long as my shot at a career in the States is not ruined, I'd try and adjust. My search however did not stop and now, if everything works out, I should be starting in a networking position at a company that promises to help fulfill my career goals, from the first of next month.
i saw a starfish At the El Matador Beach, part of the California State Parks' Robert H. Meyer Memorial State Beach, and wanted to take it, as decoration for my office desk but wasn't sure if it was dead, so I just put it back into the clear cold water I'd plucked it out from. Besides offering spectacular views of the metallic blue water of the Pacific El Matador boasts of breathtaking rock formations all along the waterline, like sentinels on watchful duty expecting an armada to rise over the horizon any moment. I discerned a kneeling elephant, the head of a mournful feline, a shark fin and the sails of a yacht majestically frozen in rock as I walked down the beach, eventually wandering into the adjoining Li Piedera and El Pescador. El Matador is also known to have nude sunbathers because of its relative obscurity and the rather amazing fact that it does not seem to attract the kind of crowds you'd think it merits, perhaps because of the much more popular Zuma which is right next door. The drive to the PCH for me takes me through the Malibu Canyon road which is entirely enchanting on its own but is made all the more magical by the views of the Pacific it offers at intervals. For those living in LA County and looking for a quiet day at the beach I cannot sufficiently recommend this jewel along Southern California's stunning coastline, here's directions, Getting There - El Matador is at 32215 Pacific Coast Highway/CA-1, Malibu 90265. As you proceed northwards on PCH, look out for signs saying El Matador, La Piedra and El Pescador Parking - is $2.00 for the day Swimming - should be fun though I did not try it, the beach is rather rocky and there are no lifeguards on duty so venture with some caution Walking - is what I indulged in and were it possible I'd go there every morning for a long, quiet, peaceful walk Wildlife - Besides the usual suspects, the herons and the sea gulls, I saw little white birds which in the dimming light looked like strips of styrofoam being blown around by the wind and which magically transformed into little busy bodies pecking in the sand as I got a closer look. It was particularly funny watching them follow the receding water, snapping up at tidbits in the short reprieve and then quickly scampering back before the next wave came in to engulf their petite selves. Oh yes, I also happened to come across a seemingly recently deceased, rather stinky sea lion and an attractive stranger trying to get her bulldog puppy, Bruno, leashed as the little mutt was busy making me jump out of my skin in sheer terror. Now you know why I'm so single.
more spam The latest version of the Nigerial mail scam, via my inbox, GOODDAY AND COMPLIMENTS! Almost six months ago I received a letter by snail mail saying I'd won 70k or therabouts in a lottery in Spain of all places. Imagine my consternation on discovering it was all a hoax! |
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