India: Bombay Meri Jaan

Bombay Meri Jaan (which in English roughly means “Bombay, My Life” or “Bombay My Love”) is a very famous old Bollywood song from 1956. The song is sung by a character who is a petty thief, and he sings about how tough life can be in this City of Dreams, this modern-day Babylon – a city where millions of people come with stars in their eyes and the hope of making it big.

I am attaching the youtube link to the song. Most Indians would know and love this song. If you haven’t seen this video, I recommend you watch it. It has English sub-titles for those who do not speak Hindi.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6INOamqU7xs

Fifty three years after this song was written, Bombay has lost much of its luster, though millions of people still come here from thousands of miles away in India’s hinterlands, seeking a livelihood and a respite from the desperate poverty in their villages. This huge migration of people has caused the city’s population to swell to twenty million, and put a huge strain on the city’s infrastructure which was designed to cater to five million inhabitants.

65% of the city’s population now lives in slums. The overcrowding in the city has also started causing tensions between “locals” and “outsiders”. India’s political parties, who never miss a trick, have started encouraging and exploiting these divisions for votes. Still, Bombay is the only truly “Indian” city in the country, with every single one of India’s states represented (and probably every district as well).

Citizens of Bombay are famed for its toughness. They are known for their intelligence, street-smarts, sass, tolerance, hardiness and sense of humor. It could hardly be otherwise. People live in tiny, one bedroom apartments in the far-flung suburbs, and often commute one hundred kilometers a day or more, packed like sardines in sweltering train compartments. You need all of the qualities mentioned above to cope.

You may not like Bombay; it is no longer a beautiful city. But you cannot deny that the city has a character and personality of its own, and how many cities of the world can you say that about?

I no longer live in Bombay, mainly because of two reasons. Firstly, I am not as young as I used to be. Pretty much everybody who works in Bombay is a workaholic. No matter how smart you are or how hard you work, there is always someone younger and smarter snapping at your heels. As I settle into comfortable middle age, my competitive spirit doesn’t burn as brightly as it did ten years ago. Secondly, Bombay is a chain of islands, and since there is no room for growth, the price of residential real estate is astronomical. A decent 1,000 square foot apartment in the area I grew up in costs in the region of US $ 400,000. I am not willing to mortgage my life to buy an apartment in a city that is already way too crowded, polluted and noisy.

But Bombay is still the city I was born in, the city I grew up in, the city that shaped the man I became. And there will be many others just like me; people who escaped Bombay to live in less stressful places. But ask them how they feel when they see a picture of Victoria Terminus (as in the “Bombay Meri Jaan” video), or Marine Drive or the Gateway of India, and wherever they may live, and however long it has been since they last saw Bombay, chances are they will look at the pictures and think “home!!”.

There is so much more I could say about Bombay, but for that, I would have to write a novel. So I will cease and desist!

Tomorrow (November 26th) marks the first anniversary of the terrible terrorist attacks on Bombay. This is my salute to everyone who lives in Bombay. People like the accountant I knew in one of my workplaces many years ago; a woman who lived in Kalyan and commuted every morning by train to Fort (a distance of about sixty kilometers one-way). A woman who woke up at 5 am every morning to cook breakfast for her family, feed and dress her kids for school and then come to work. A woman who returned home only by 10 pm every night, to cook dinner and then help her kids with their homework. She was super-efficient at work too, and accomplished more in a day than most people do in a week. I was in awe of her. And Bombay is full of millions of men and women like her.

So I would like to dedicate this blog to her and the millions of other hardworking residents of Bombay, that western-most of India’s cities. You deserve so much better.

India: The Many Indias

Having lived overseas for more than half of my adult life, I have often been asked the question “What is India like?” I always find this question difficult to answer, because India, unlike many other countries in the world, is very difficult to categorize.

There is nothing homogenous or uniform about India. When people want to categorize India, I often tell them to think of India as Europe – if Europe had been a single nation. India has fifteen (or is it sixteen) different languages (each with its own unique script), thousands of dialects, and dozens of ethnic groups. Culturally, ethnically and linguistically, Hungary and Iceland have more in common than Tamil Nadu (a South Indian state) and Uttar Pradesh (a North Indian state). Western India is more economically prosperous than Eastern India, Southern India is better educated than Northern India, and then of course, there are the “seven sisters”, India’s North-eastern states, beautiful but distant, with warm and hospitable people but populated by separatist groups. Culturally, the North-eastern states have more in common with Tibet and Myanmar than India.

This same diversity applies to India’s urban and rural areas. Urban India has its face to the West, and sophisticated Indian cities have some of the finest restaurants, entertainment and nightlife on offer anywhere in the world. Parts of rural India on the other hand (especially in economically backward Northern and Eastern India) are as backward and poor as sub-Saharan Africa. Real estate prices in Mumbai and Delhi are among the highest in the world; on par with cities like Tokyo and New York. An Indian corporate magnate recently constructed one of the most expensive buildings in the world, and converted it into his residence. He is among the fifty richest men in the world, I think. Yet, barely a hundred kilometers from where he lives is one of India’s poorest districts, where malnutrition and hunger cast a dark shadow on the lives of the rural poor.

Is India a rich country? Yes. Is India a poor country? Yes. Are primary education standards in rural India abysmal? Yes. Does India have some of the finest universities and scientific research institutions in the world? Yes. Is a large percentage of the Indian population illiterate? Yes. Does India have the largest English speaking population in the world? Yes. Is India’s government venal, corrupt and inefficient? Yes. Does India have some of the best-run private sector companies in the world? Yes. Does caste and religious discrimination still exist? Yes. Are some of India’s most distinguished people (including the country’s Chief Justice as well as former President) from these communities? Yes. Does religious bigotry exist in India? Yes. Are all religions equal under the law in India? Yes. Is India one of the most densely populated countries in the world? Yes. Are parts of India among the most sparsely populated places on the planet? Yes. Is India a hot country? Yes. Is India a cold country? Yes.

You see how difficult it is to categorize the place. All this diversity causes huge problems that would daunt many nations. Yet somehow India endures. I would like to say that it thrives, but that would be too strong a word to use. It is my fervent hope that India can and does start thriving soon. In school, we were taught that India meant “unity in diversity”. That cherished idea is still alive and well, despite many organized attempts to kill it. India can and should thrive, because no other country in the world is as diverse, as unique and as flawed. But this diversity also means unlimited potential; a latent ability to show the rest of the world how so many different cultures, races, ethnicities and religions can co-exist and prosper. It is an honor for me to call myself Indian. To paraphrase Nobel Prize winning Indian poet Rabindranath Tagore, may India thrive and “into that heaven of freedom, My Father, may my country awake”.

Environment: Are You An Environmentalist Yet?

Many years ago, when I was a university student in the U.S., I had a Native American friend from the Shoshone tribe. Like me, he was getting a degree in Business Administration. We became good friends, and one year during Thanksgiving, he even took me up to an American Indian reservation where his family lived. I do not know of too many Asian Indians who have visited American Indian reservations. But that visit (or what I remember of it after so many years), will have to be the subject of another blog.

I was curious as to how Native American tribes viewed the American Gold Rush, the “discovery” of America and the West by people from Europe, and their view of American history. While talking about land ownership rights, my friend said something that has stayed with me all these years later: “Native Americans do not believe that people own the land they live on. Instead, we believe that the land owns us. We are only temporary custodians of the land we live on, and it is our responsibility to take care of it and nurture it for future generations”. I thought that this was one of the most profound things I had ever heard.

As a citizen of one of the most densely populated countries on earth, I have seen first-hand the devastation caused by overpopulation, greed and environmental degradation. Thirty years ago, Bombay (Mumbai) was still a scenic city, with the sea on one side and green, rolling hills on the other. The population of the city in the late 1970s was about eight million people. Today, thirty years on, all the open spaces are gone, filled with buildings or slums. The population has risen to twenty million people, though the infrastructure of the city (roads, public transport, electricity, water supply) was designed to cater to only about five million people. The beloved city of my youth is gone, forever.

When I go up to the Himalayas every year, I am distressed by the increasing vehicular pollution, the sprouting of ugly concrete houses on the hillsides, and the trash generated by uncaring tourists. It is infuriating to watch city tourists in their gas-guzzling sports utility vehicles defile the calm of the mountains, with their blaring Indi-pop music and their amazing capacity to generate mounds of garbage. The least they can do is to respect the sanctity of their beautiful surroundings, but I guess that is too much to ask for.

I usually head out into the wilderness very quickly to soothe my soul. The fewer the people I have to deal with, the better. Luckily, there is a growing awareness of the environment in India’s Himalayas, as locals also realize the economic value of conservation of trees, as well as the value of preserving and replenishing traditional sources of fresh water such as springs, etc. But India’s burgeoning population means that environmental conservation is always a challenging task, as the competition for finite sources of water and energy (such as firewood) intensifies with each passing year. There is much that the government can do in terms of environmental awareness and education, but then there is much that the government can do in all spheres of public life which sadly isn’t being done.

The Native American tribes were among the world’s first environmentalists because they revered the land they lived on, and took care of it. They learned to live in harmony with nature. There is much that we could learn from them. In this day and age, as global warming and climate change begins to manifest itself, there are simple things we could do to stave off a catastrophe. Plant and care for trees where possible, use public transportation where safe, clean and efficient public transportation options are available, judiciously use electricity and water – to name a few. If we don’t, the land we live on will continue to exist (in some form), while we will become extinct as a species. The pertinent question to be asked therefore is not are you an environmentalist, but are you an environmentalist yet? Because if you do not care for the land you live on, pretty soon it will not care about you. And that would be the end of the world as we know it.

Home: A Place Where Birds Nest

As someone who has spent more than half his adult life living away from home, every piece of news and information about it is valuable and precious. I make it a point to read all the latest political, economic and sports news about India very regularly. I incessantly e-mail friends to find out what is happening back home. Even the most seemingly trivial piece of information is most welcome.

Which is why I was thrilled to learn that a family of songbirds has made a nest in our little terrace garden back in Pune, India. There is nothing grand or magnificent about our Pune home. It is a spacious, bright two-bedroom apartment in one of the nicer parts of the city, surrounded by lots of trees. There is plenty of natural light that streams through the house. The main attraction of the place is the little terrace garden we have, which is being looked after (quite well, it seems) by our maid. One of the distinguishing features of the place is the continuous sound of birdsong, in part due to the little lawn we have. Birds of many varieties come by, looking for worms on the lawn. I have spent many a lazy afternoon, watching them as they visited the lawn. Once they figured out that this unemployed guy wasn’t a threat, they became completely unafraid of me.

Apparently, a family of songbirds have taken a fancy to one of the bamboo trees we have in the garden, and built a nest there. I like to grandly call it the “bamboo grove”, but in fact, it is just four bamboo trees, that we planted last year and which have now grown to over seven feet tall.

We spent a lot of time last year looking for a nice home. I have a marked tendency to over-analyze, and would probably still be searching for the appropriate home if it hadn’t been for Deepali. She took one look at the open space that eventually became the terrace garden and decided that this was the place she wanted to live in.

It was a great decision in hindsight. Both of us love the place. We have made some good friends in the neighbourhood. When we do live there (which is not very often lately), we often have friends over. People we know seem to love the place as well. I flatter myself, but I do believe that the place gives off a relaxed, positive, cheerful vibe that attracts visitors (including feathered ones).

It is great to know that a family of songbirds has found our home a fit enough place to raise a family. Home after all, is where birds come to nest, isn’t it?

Travel: Old Is Nothing

Deepali and I just returned from what is billed as the most spectacular train ride in the world; the Whistler Mountaineer from the city of Vancouver, Canada to Whistler, a ski resort in British Columbia. I haven’t been on all the train rides in the world, but I can well believe this claim. No other railway in the world takes you up through the spectacular British Columbia coast, with the sea on one side and evergreen forests, gushing white-water rivers and snow-capped mountains on the other. These areas are prime breeding grounds for killer whales, bears (grizzlies and black bears), salmon and bald eagles. We rode past Howe Sound, which is the southernmost fjord (glacier-carved sea inlet) in North America, through the hamlet of Squamish, considered the recreation and outdoors capital of Canada and up into the ski resort of Whistler.

I will be posting photos soon. Photos of course do not do justice to the awe-inspiring beauty of this train ride. I now have to admit that in my book, British Columbia is right up there with the Himalayas as the most beautiful place in the world. While the mountains here are lower, one also gets a view of the ocean and fjords at the same time.

We had a memorable ride on the Whistler Mountaineer. The train had a “Glacier Dome” compartment, one that was completely encased in glass and offered a 360 degree view of the natural beauty on offer. Since we paid an arm and leg for the trip, we were pampered with local Okanagan Valley wine, smoked salmon sandwiches, Glenfiddich scotch whiskey and lemon tarts. I must say it was a dining experience like no other.

What astonished me was the number of senior citizens on board the train. At least 80% of the travellers on the train were aged 65 and above. Many of them were in their 70s and a few of them were in their 80s. Older people in the West are so active and still have so much zest for life. I find that admirable. Here in Vancouver, the number of older runners and joggers outnumber their younger counterparts. I consider myself quite fit, but some of these elderly athletes put me to shame.

It is heartening to see so many senior citizens going mobile. But it is not surprising, considering the facilities that are always available for them, right from wheelchairs, clean and easily accessible toilets and medical staff. It is a pity that such facilities are not easily available in most places in India. Senior citizens often have worked a lifetime and have cash to spend, and would be an ideal market segment for tourism. Unfortunately, despite the so-called “Incredible India” tourism campaign mounted by the Indian government in the last few years, very little has changed on the ground as far as travel is concerned. Buildings are not easy to access for those who are disabled or elderly, medical care in smaller cities is not good and public toilets in India are few and far between (and indescribably filthy when you do find them).

India, along with the United States of America, has the most diverse natural attractions on offer – right from snow-capped mountains to beaches to deserts. We also have some of the most historic tourist sites in the world, from the Taj Mahal to the ruins of Hampi and so many forts, palaces and castles. We have an ancient civilization that rivals Rome, Greece, China and Persia. But we get so few international tourists, and even fewer elderly tourists.

We need those tourist dollars. The money could be spent to provide livelihoods to millions of people and give a major boost to the rural economy that would be a godsend in places where employment options are few. A carefully crafted and delivered tourism strategy would lift millions out of poverty. But is anyone in the government listening?

Coming back to those senior tourists I saw on the train, I salute them and their enthusiasm for life. Getting old doesn’t mean that one is waiting to die. The whole world is out there, waiting to be explored. And what better time to do it than when one is retired, the kids are independent and one has both time as well as money to spare? To paraphrase the punch-line from a running shoe commercial; “Old is nothing”

Up On Crank’s Ridge: Where It’s Always 1969

Memory is a funny thing. There are some places one has visited that bring back fond memories. Then there are a few places one has visited that one would rather forget. Lastly, there is a special category of places where one feels like one has somehow gone back in time. This blog is about a place that is as much a geographical location as it is a state of mind. I blogged about it in passing a couple of years ago, but this particular blog is fondly dedicated to Crank’s Ridge, the old hippie hangout tucked away in the foothills of the Indian Himalayas, where it always feels like 1969.

Every time I go back there (and I try and go back every year), the old hippie song “Something In the Air” starts playing in my head. Crank’s Ridge, six kilometres above the Himalayan town of Almora in the Indian state of Uttarakhand, is known by several names; Kasar Devi (the traditional name), Crank’s Ridge (a tribute to the assortment of famous eccentrics from across the world who have lived there) and Hippie Hill (from the time in the 1970s when it became a haven for hippies and mystics).

There is something special about Crank’s Ridge. Apart from some of the best Himalayan views anywhere in the world, there is something about the quality of the air here – a sort of golden, hazy sepia-tinted glow that I have never seen anywhere else in the world. Standing by the side of the single lane tarred road that passes through the ridge, one can see the Himalayalan foothills roll away into the distance, and beyond them, three hundred kilometres of the mightiest mountain range in the world, with the summit of the 25,600 foot Nanda Devi Peak front and center. The view is breathtaking, and I guarantee that no matter how jaded a traveller you are, it will leave you speechless. The great Himalayas shimmering in the distance, sunlight glinting on a butterfly's wing, rolling meadows and tall, evergreen trees. As a nature lover, you could not ask for anything more.

Yet Crank’s Ridge is not just about astonishing natural beauty. It has a reputation for being a spiritual “power centre” and has played host to a number of famous (and occasionally eccentric visitors). This is as good a place as any to mention some of them. The first was Indian mystic Swami Vivekananda who lived and meditated at the Kasar Devi temple up on the ridge back in the 1890s. In the 1920s, it became a haven for Buddhist mystics, famous artists and poets. D.H. Lawrence spent two summers living here as did artist Earl Brewster, Buddhist scholars Alfred Sorensen (a.k.a Sunyata Baba) and Lama Govinda (a.k.a. Ernst Hoffman). Lama Govinda was the world’s foremost authority on Tibetan Buddhism. Indian Nobel Prize poet laureate Rabindranath Tagore, Uday Shankar, dancer Zohra Sehgal and sitarist Ravi Shankar also lived here in the 1930s and 1940s.

In the 1950s and early 1960s, this remarkable and remote place became a haven for beat poets such as Allen Ginsberg and future hippie guru Timothy Leary. Timothy Leary lived here for several years in the 1950s and wrote part of the book “The Psychedelic Experience” here. But the true boom in Western visitors came in the 1960s and 1970s. Crank’s Ridge is supposed to be a deeply spiritual place. The marijuana plant also grows rather liberally on the lower slopes of the ridge, which is also a big draw for many. The 1970s saw many celebrity visitors – including Cat Stevens, Bob Dylan and George Harrison. There are unconfirmed rumours that all of the Beatles may have made it here back in 1968 or 1969. This is very possible, since they spent substantial amounts of time in Rishikesh, on the other side of the mountains. Also, the Beatles were very good friends with Timothy Leary, who lived on Crank’s Ridge.

Western tourists came in droves in the 1970s, as many people (not all hippies) came up to Crank’s Ridge as part of their spiritual search. Apart from the hippies, there were many distinguished visitors as well. Dr. Robert Thurman, noted Buddhist scholar, professor of Buddhist Studies at Columbia University and father of actress Uma Thurman came and spent a summer on Crank’s Ridge in 1971 to write his thesis and study with his guru Lama Govinda. Thurman brought his family with him, so the infant Uma Thurman also probably lived here!

Another distinguished visitor was Dena Kaye, the daughter of Hollywood actor and star Danny Kaye. She opened a state-of-the-art hospital in this beautiful rural part of India, named the Dena Hospital. The Dena Hospital is still very much in existence, and is staffed by doctors from Mumbai and Delhi. The last time my parents visited the area a few years ago, they were astonished to find that some of the doctors at the hospital were their students from the G.S. Medical College in Mumbai (Bombay).

Much has changed in the last thirty years I have been visiting Crank’s Ridge. In the 1970s, there was only a dirt track that wound its way up through forests of oak and pine, from the town of Almora a thousand feet below. There were very few houses, no electricity and almost no tourists, except for the visiting hippies who had “freak-outs” and dances on summer nights.

Today, there is a tarred road, several expensive hotels and a four-star resort that have come up there, offering everything from local treks to exotic Indian Ayurvedic massages and power yoga. There also is a settlement of Tibetans who live here and a serene Buddhist monastery. The tiny local restaurants now offer pizza and burgers as part of their menu. There are several Internet cafes, and the locals rent out their village homes to visiting Western tourists in search of nirvana. There are a couple of hundred aging Western tourists who came here in the 1970s and decided to live here permanently. There is also a settlement of Israeli kids, who come here to relax and unwind after serving their time in the military back home.

But the aura of the place remains unchanged. The Himalayas still watch over the little town, silent yet awe-inspiring sentinels. And every time I visit, I still walk up to the top of the windswept ridge, where Swami Vivekananda meditated a hundred and twenty years ago, where one can still hear the eloquent roar of the blessed mountain silences.

For me, Crank’s Ridge still conjures up visions of flaxen-haired hippies in tie-dyed clothes dancing joyously in the meadows to the strains of “Something in the Air”. To quote the lyrics of the song:

“Call out the instigators
Because there's something in the air
We've got to get together sooner or later
Because the revolution's here, and you know it's right
We have got to get it together now”

I was never a hippie. The whole hippie thing always seemed too naïve and well-intentioned to work. The promised revolution came and went and very little in the world changed. But somehow, up on Crank’s Ridge, everybody pitches in and everyone seems happy. So call out the instigators, because the revolution is here and I am going back up to Crank’s Ridge where it still feels like 1969.

Care to join me?

Adaptability

“You can’t always get what you want
But if you try sometimes,
You just might find
You get what you need”
- Mick Jagger and Keith Richards (1969)

I often ask myself the question: Why is it that all things being equal, some people succeed and others fail? There are of course, many unknowns that contribute to individual success and happiness – luck, determination and ambition are a few that come to mind. Also, some people are naturally gifted or more intelligent than the rest of us. But the operative words in the question posed above are “all things being equal”.

By success and happiness, I do not necessarily mean economic wealth, though that is important. I mean contentment, a sense of modest achievement, a few friends, basic levels of comfort. In the course of a moderately interesting life, I have travelled extensively and met many different types of people. I have met reasonably intelligent and talented people who are happy. I have also met exceptionally intelligent and talented people who are miserable. I have come to the conclusion that true happiness is fleeting and momentary, and not a permanent state of being. There is no “happily ever after”, only the present. And the present keeps changing, often in unpleasant ways. Those who stuck in the past or dreaming about the future are doomed to remain unhappy.

Happiness is based on the ability to adapt to an uncertain and rapidly changing world around us. Like an American friend once said to me: “Never get too comfortable with any particular situation, because life will throw you a curve-ball when you least expect it”. The one thing about life that is certain is its uncertainty and fragility. The moment you start taking any particular situation or person for granted, the rug suddenly gets pulled out from under your feet, and you are right back to Square One.

Darwin’s “survival of the fittest” principle is as applicable to individuals as it is to entire species. The happiest people I know are the ones that are able to rapidly adapt themselves to changing situations. This means realizing that life and people can never be perfect. To expect a given situation or person to be perfect is setting yourself up for disaster. When I was younger, I was frequently disappointed when things did not work out like I had envisioned them. I spent considerable periods of time trying to figure out why things didn’t work out exactly as I had planned and hoped for, and was frequently unhappy.

Nowadays, I realize that while planning, hard work and sincerity are a good start, it is important to be able to land on your feet when things don’t work out like you want them to. That is the secret to true happiness. Because very often, you can’t always get what you want, but if you try sometimes, you just might find, you get what you need. And smart people learn to be happy by adapting to changing circumstances, while realizing that getting what you want just doesn’t happen sometimes. There will always be the enviable few, the beautiful people, who possess a rare combination of luck, good looks, intelligence and ability. I do not belong to that select group of individuals, and chances are that you don’t either.

So if I ever have grandchildren, I will give them this advice; “Learn to roll with the punches, if you ever want to be happy”. This may be contrary to many of the things we are taught as children, but it is true.