History - Top Ten Places of Historical Interest (Part I)

I had mentioned in my last Blogmaster address that I would soon be posting a piece on this. However, as I have been writing it, I have realized that I have enough material for several blogs as far as places of historial interest are concerned. So this is Part I, where I cover the top three places of historical interest, which are Persepolis (Iran), the Parthenon (Greece) and Angkor Wat (Cambodia). There are many other places of historical interest I want to write about, and I will soon. They include Hagia Sophia (Istanbul, Turkey), Vijaynagar (Hampi, India), Carthage (Tunisia), Machu Picchu (Peru) and several others. Hope you like this one.

These are places that I have read a great deal about and would love to visit before I am summoned to that Great Gig In the Sky. So here goes:

• Persepolis (near Shiraz, Iran): Twenty-six hundred years after it was built at the foot of the Mount of Mercy in the Persian highlands and twenty-three hundred years after it was burned to the ground by the drunk Alexander the Macedonian, the mighty pillars of the Hall of a Hundred Columns still stand, bearing mute testimony to the greatest and richest empire the world has ever seen. The name still inspires awe among lovers of ancient history. Persepolis (Old Persian name ‘Takht-E-Jamshed” or “Throne of Jamshed”) was the center of the largest and powerful empire on earth – the Persian Achaemenid Empire (named after a mythical ancestor Hakamanush). It was the capital and nerve-center of an empire that stretched from the banks of the Indus River in modern-day Pakistan, to Thrace in modern-day Greece, from the Volga River in the Russian steppes to the Nile in Egypt. The King’s Royal Roads spread out from Persepolis to the far corners of the empire – to Taxila in India a thousand miles away in the East, and to Byzantium on the shores of the Mediterranean, a thousand miles to the West. The King’s Peace ensured that traders and travelers traveling across this vast empire were unmolested by bandits and thieves.

The first World Empire was not Roman, contrary to what most people think. It was Persian, and Persepolis was its capital, located high in the Persian highlands of the Zagros Mountains, in the south-west corner of modern-day Iran. It was built by Darius the Great and his son Xerxes, successors to the founder of the empire, Cyrus the Great. The palace complex on the mountain was quite simply an architectural marvel – the most magnificent collection of buildings in the world in its time (and for a millennium after that). The showcase of the complex was the Apadana Palace with its’ Hall of a Hundred Columns – a breathtakingly impressive building. The Apadana had a grand hall in the shape of a square, each side sixty meters long with seventy-two columns, thirteen of which still stand on the enormous platform. It was the only building in the world to have a portico on all four of its massive sides. The Parthenon built by Athenian leader Pericles on the Acropolis in Athens is but a pale imitation of the Apadana Palace, which was just one of many splendid buildings at Persepolis. Some of the other great buildings on the platform were the palaces of Darius and Xerxes and the Tripylon or Debating Hall.

Each of the seventy two columns of the Apadana Palace was nineteen meters high with a square Taurus and plinth. The columns carried the weight of the vast and heavy ceiling. The tops of the columns were made from animal sculptures such as two headed bulls, lions and eagles. The interiors of the palace were decorated with glittering jewels, silk curtains and intricate wall hangings.

And in the center of the great Apadana Palace, in the Hall of the Mountain King, sat the Great King himself on the Lion Throne, facing the rising sun and guarded by the Ten Thousand Immortals, receiving ambassadors from Mesopotamia and Egypt, from Sparta and India and dispensing justice to the subjects of his far-flung empire.

Unfortunately, the successors of Cyrus, Darius and Xerxes were not great philosopher warrior kings like their ancestors. When Alexander fought the last Persian Great King Darius III at Gaugamela in 331 B.C, he won when he should have lost. Darius III panicked just when the tide of the battle was turning and the formidable Persian cavalry led by the elite Ten Thousand Immortals was besting the Macedonian Companion cavalry. Darius III fled, Alexander suddenly became heir to the largest and richest empire in the world and in a fit of drunken rage and egged on by his prostitute friend, Thais of Athens, burned Persepolis to the ground.

And so the greatest and most sophisticated city in the world was destroyed by a bunch of drunken Macedonian goat-herders. Alexander was a great military tactician, but a poor administrator. The empire he inherited disintegrated into chaos and confusion within just fourteen years of his conquest, until the second Persian Empire of the Parthians came along a century later.

The Achaemenid Persian Empire bequeathed the world many things, including great engineering works, art and sculpture, an administrative system that was copied by the Romans right down to the last detail, a system of governance that was based on religious tolerance, the first Charter of Human Rights, a sophisticated irrigation system that is still used today, and the first monotheistic religion in Zoroastrianism – a religion from which the Old Testament borrowed heavily. Zoroastrianism played a significant role in the evolution of Judaism, and later Christianity and Islam.

But the ruins of Persepolis including many of the towering columns of the Apadana Palace still stand, a reminder of empire and greatness. Someday, I would like to walk through the Persian highlands and upto the gates of Persepolis.

On a cool spring day in the highlands when the skies are blue and the wildflowers are in bloom, I would like to sit at the foot of the Mount of Mercy and try and imagine what it must have felt like to watch Darius the Great seated in the Great King’s Sun Chariot on the ceremonial New Year’s Day of the spring equinox (“Navjot”), passing under the monumental Gateway to All the Lands at the head of the Ten Thousand Immortals, their lances raised in salute, their armor glittering in the sun, the trumpeters heralding the approach of the Awesome Royal Glory, and the Palace Guards Commander Hydarnes announcing “All hail the Achaemenid, the King of Kings, Lord of All the Lands”, with the Golden Eagle Standard of the Empire catching the sun and fluttering in the spring breeze.

The Awesome Royal Glory (as the Achaemenid Persian line of Great Kings was known) is gone forever, but faint echoes of its majesty and grandeur can still be found in the ruins of Persepolis, that most magnificent of ancient cities.

• The Parthenon (Athens, Greece): It is not possible to talk about the Persians without mentioning their ancient rivals - the Greeks. Of course, the term “the Greeks” is something of a misnomer since there was no single Greek state at the time (circa 560 B.C to 330 B.C). There were several different Greek states such as Athens, Sparta, Thebes and Thrace who were usually at odds with each other, except when it came to battling the old enemy – the Persians. The Greek speaking population that lived in Europe were called “Dorian Greeks”. The part of the Greek speaking population that lived in what is now coastal Turkey (Asia Minor) were called “Milesian Greeks”. The Milesian Greeks were richer and more civilized than their Dorian counterparts. Also, they willingly became part of the ever-expanding Achaemenid Persian Empire because for them, it meant political stability, security and access to huge markets for their goods and services.

Eventually, this caused increasing tension between the Persian Empire and the European Greeks, who kept stirring up trouble across the Aegean Sea (that divides Europe and Asia). Finally, in 491 B.C, the Persian Great King Darius I (Darius the Great) had enough and ordered an invasion of Greece. The Persians crossed the Bosphorus at Byzantium and entered European Greece. The campaign went well at first as the Persians advanced step by step towards Athens, subduing the various Dorian Greek states in their way.

The Athenians and their allies were in a state of panic. The Spartans refused to come to their aid. The Greek oracles at Delphi and elsewhere predicted a complete Persian victory. The Athenians and their allies the Thebans made one last desperate stand at Marathon, 26 miles from Athens (now you know why the marathon race is so named). The Athenian forces had a natural advantage over the advancing Persians – they were camped up on a hillside and higher ground is always a critical advantage in any battle. Higher ground in this case also meant that the Greek hoplites (heavily armored infantry) could negate the Persian cavalry who were lower down on the slopes. The Persian cavalry was a formidable military force, but their infantry (kardachi) was lightly armored and equipped.

The Athenians charged and while the Persians broke through the Athenian center, they got caught on ground unfavorable for deploying their cavalry. The Athenians outflanked the Persians, circled back in a pincer move and caught them in the rear. The Athenians won, though not by the margin that so-called ancient Greek “historians” talk about. It was a hard-fought battle, not a rout. This battle also highlighted the contrasting fighting styles of the Greeks (and later the Romans) and the Persians. Whenever the ground conditions suited cavalry warfare, the Persians usually won. Whenever the conditions suited infantry warfare, the Greeks (and later the Romans) won. The Persians were superb horsemen, while the Greeks and Romans were excellent infantrymen (the heavily armored hoplites and later the Roman legions).

For the next two centuries, the Dorian Greek states and the Persians fought many famous battles with no clear victor. The Greeks staved off the Persians in Europe, and though the Persian Great King Xerxes sacked Athens twice during the second Persian campaign, he could not hold the Greek mainland for any length of time, as the Greeks repeatedly attacked his long supply lines leading back to Asia. The Greeks in turn were unable to break the Persian stranglehold on the Greek states in Asia Minor (Milesian Greece) and Egypt.

But what the Persians could not win through military conquest, they won through diplomacy. By the time the Peloponnesian War broke out in 430 B.C or so between Sparta and Athens, the Persians had become the chief power broker in the region, playing off one against the other and ensuring that Asia Minor remained a Persian province.

Now coming to the Parthenon (finally, you say). The Parthenon is a temple dedicated to the pre-eminent Greek goddess Athena – the mother goddess of the city of Athens. The temple was built after the Greco-Persian wars as a token of gratitude to the goddess for having saved the Athenians from Persian domination. The original Athena temple on the Acropolis (the hill on which the Parthenon stands) was burnt to the ground by Persian Great King Xerxes during the second Greco-Persian War in 479 B.C.

The new Parthenon was built in approximately 447 B.C. by the famous Athenian general Pericles. The Athenians signed a peace treaty with the Persians in 449 B.C. Having beating back the Persians over the last fifty years, the Athenians were confident and believed that they were the leaders of the European Greek states. The Parthenon represents the high point of Athenian and indeed ancient Greek civilization. The temple itself stands on the Acropolis, a hill from which the entire city of Athens is visible. Twenty-five hundred years after it was built, it still dominates the skyline of the city.

The sculptures and friezes inside the Parthenon signify the high point of Greek art. While the Persian art at Persepolis is very classical in nature, the Greek art on display at the Parthenon is very individualistic in nature, signifying the supposed triumph of individualism over monarchy. The relief sculptures on the sides of the temple illustrate various stories from ancient Greek history, myth and legend. The reliefs on the south illustrate the battle between the Greeks and the Trojans. Those at the west end depict the contest between Poseidon and Athena for the right to be the patron deity of Athens. The eastern friezes show the birth of Athena from Zeus' head. This structure suffered badly when the Parthenon was hit by a Venetian shell in 1687 and the powder magazine inside exploded.

Over the last two thousand years, the Parthenon has been witness to the rise and fall of empires and religions in Greece. In the 6th century AD it was converted into a temple. In 1456, Athens fell to the Ottoman Turks and was converted into a mosque. The Ottoman rulers were respectful of the monument’s history and heritage and left it untouched.

The Parthenon still stands, a testament to a time when Athens and Greece shaped Western thought, ideals and civilization.

• Angkor Wat (Cambodia): Even ardent lovers of history sometimes forget that South-east Asia has plenty to offer. Countries such as Thailand, Vietnam and Cambodia have their own ancient Buddhist and Hindu history, culture and architecture that is fascinating. Tucked away deep in the jungles of Cambodia lies one such treasure – Angkor Wat. The word means “City Temple” in old Cambodian, which is similar to Sanskrit.

Imagine yourself as a character in an Indiana Jones movie, walking through a dense, thick, humid tropical forest only to suddenly chance upon a near mythical city full of exquisite art, sculpture and buildings –a magical ghost city deep in a tropical forest with bright eyed monkeys in the trees and many-colored tropical birds flying overhead. That is Angkor Wat. Would be fun, wouldn’t it?

Angkor Wat was designed as a temple complex dedicated to the Hindu God Vishnu. The construction of the temple complex was started in the middle of the 12th century A.D by the great Cambodian king, Suryavarman II, a member of the Khmer Dynasty. Unfortunately, the word “Khmer” has acquired an evil reputation because of the Khmer Rouge, a violent ultra-left political group that ruled Cambodia in the 1970s. The Khmer Rouge was headed by the psychopath Pol Pot, who in a decade of misrule, tortured and killed a quarter of his country’s population.

But the Khmer Empire itself was enlightened, erudite and sophisticated. The Angkor Wat temple complex is a feat of very sophisticated engineering. Angkor Wat combines two basic plans of Khmer temple architecture: the temple mountain and the later galleried temples. It is designed to represent Mount Meru, home of the gods in Hindu mythology. Within a moat and an outer wall nearly four kilometers long are three rectangular galleries, each raised above the next. At the centre of the temple stands a phalanx of towers.

One of the first Western visitors to the temple was Antonio da Magdalena, a Portuguese monk who visited in 1586 and said that it "is of such extraordinary construction that it is not possible to describe it with a pen, particularly since it is like no other building in the world. It has towers and decoration and all the refinements which the human genius can conceive of". It is generally agreed that the architectural design of the temple complex at Angkor Wat is as good as or even better than the ancient temples at Athens or Rome or the Sistine Chapel.

Unfortunately, in the last two decades, many of the exquisite sculptures have been plundered and sold to rich art dealers in the U.S. and other countries. Angkor Wat is a now world heritage site and a reminder of a great civilization and culture. A walk through a jungle to suddenly discover a magical, near mythical city that could keep me entranced for days? Oh yes, I could definitely do that.

Music - Third Top Ten List

Welcome to my third Top Ten music list. The first two were such a hit that I was under tremendous pressure to come up with a third!! Of course I jest, but yes, a few people did like the first two and said so, so here is the third. And yes, there will be some love songs in this list as well (for people who think that I don’t like love songs) – unconventional love songs perhaps, but love songs nonetheless. Not weepy sentimental stuff, but songs that have real intelligence, power, emotion and meaning.

This list will have songs by some artists you have heard of – such as David Bowie with his “weary android” voice (my patent – this description of old David’s voice), the Beatles and the Red Hot Chili Peppers. You may not have heard of some of the other artists or songs. Some songs are just a year old, others are fifty years old. Let nobody say that my musical tastes are anything less than eclectic. I also have enough stuff for a fourth Top Ten list which will be released soon.

So where do I start? Ah, yes –the Clash.

Maestro, drum roll please:

• The Guns of Brixton – The Clash (1980): The Clash who formed in 1977, were the biggest punk rock band after the Sex Pistols and they lasted a lot longer. They were a product of their environment – the turbulent and depressed England of the mid to late 1970s. The late 1970s were a particularly bad time for the UK – high unemployment, an economy in shambles (the UK was labeled “the sick man of Europe”) and race riots on the streets between extreme right-wing white youth on one side and the West Indian and South Asian communities on the other. Disillusionment and anger reigned. Race riots in depressed areas such as Toxteth and Brixton were routine. The punks, led by the Sex Pistols reviled the music of older bands such as Pink Floyd and Led Zeppelin, dismissing them as irrelevant, “corporatized money grabbers” and “boring old farts”.

The Clash were a little different. Their musical influences were some of the British bands of the previous generation (especially the Who) and reggae. By the 1970s, the West Indian community in the UK was making their musical and cultural influence felt far beyond the confines of their community.

The Clash wrote mostly political songs – they were left-leaning and supported the left-wing governments in the world at the time, including the Sandinista regime in Nicaragua. They also tried to build bridges across races and communities in the UK, and wrote about South American dictatorships and rebels in the hills. The Clash were the only punk band to make it really big in the United States – punk was largely a British phenomenon.

This particular song is about one of the more deadly race riots in Brixton. The song condemns the riots and has a hypnotic, snaky reggae backbeat. The lyrics are pretty chilling too.

“When they kick at your front door,
How you gonna come
With your hands on your head
Or on the trigger of your gun,
When the law break in,
How you gonna go,
Shot down on the pavement,
Or waitin’ in Death Row”

• London Calling/Brand New Cadillac – The Clash (1980): Staying with the Clash for a moment, these two songs are also great. “London Calling” is a pounding rocker that paints a picture of an apocalyptic future, where the Third World War has broken out and a nuclear bomb has been dropped on London. “Brand New Cadillac” is an amalgam of American Tex-Mex, rockabilly and Jamaican reggae musical styles and is irresistibly foot-tapping, with a sudden explosive guitar solo right at the bridge of the song.

• Because the Night – Patti Smith – (1976): When punk crossed the Atlantic, it influenced singers like Patti Smith. Unlike other female rockers at the time, Patti was not seductive or pretty. She did not sing weepy love songs about sad romantic relationships. But she had a great bellow of a voice and was a great songwriter. She was one tough broad. This song was originally written by Bruce Springsteen but Patti made it her own. Her version is about a woman obsessed with a man – her obsession is complete and frightening. The song is a great rocker and enjoyable (though a little scary) to listen to. The woman in the song has got a real bad case of the hots for the guy she is singing about. You may heard the version by the 10,000 Maniacs a few years ago.

• Turn, Turn, Turn – The Byrds – (1966): This song was originally written by folk singer Pete Seeger in 1962. The version by the Byrds came out in 1966, and quickly became a huge hit and a cry for peace and reconciliation during the divisive Vietnam War. The Byrds were the first super-group in the 1960s. They sounded very different from everybody else, thanks to Roger McGuinn’s ringing rhythm guitar that sounded like chiming church-bells. Actually, their songs sounded like poems put to song, sung by choirboys. Like one reviewer said, the Byrds brought Ecclesiastes to the charts. They pretty much invented folk-rock along with Bob Dylan. The tunes and arrangements to their songs were gorgeous, lovely to listen to. The incarnations of the band kept changing. Many esteemed talents played in this band, right from Roger McGuinn to David Crosby to the late, great Gram Parsons. This is such a beautiful song.

• Love, Reign O’er Me – The Who – (1973): This song makes one want to believe in romantic love again. It is one of the few love songs by the Who. Part of the band’s 1973 magnum opus “Quadrophenia”, it is about a confused young man growing up in mid 1960s Britain. His name is Jimmy. By the end of the album, Jimmy does not know where life is taking him. He is depressed and at the crossroads. The song is a desperate cry for someone to love, someone to care. The album was made into a movie in 1979 starring Sting as Jimmy, and launched Sting’s acting career. The movie and the album were a huge British hit, since both chronicled growing up working class in mid 1960s Britain – a country and world poised on the brink of a social revolution.

Roger Daltrey’s impassioned vocals, combined with superb lyrics and unusually lush musical arrangements by Pete Townshend make this song a classic. The song was also covered by Pearl Jam this year and has featured as part of the soundtrack for several movies. Eddie Vedder of course is a huge Pete Townshend fan, like me. The song is delicate, thundering, emotional and ballsy – all at the same time. A very rare combination indeed.

“Only love can make it rain
The way the beach is kissed by the sea
Only love can make it rain
Like the sweat of lovers
Laying in the fields.

Love, Reign o'er me
Love, Reign o'er me, rain on me

Only love can bring the rain
That makes you yearn to the sky
Only love can bring the rain
That falls like tears from on high

Love Reign O'er me”

This song can still move me to tears so many years after I first heard it.

• Blackbird – The Beatles – (1968): Anybody who thinks that Paul McCartney did not write intelligent, meaningful songs should listen to this song as well the whole of Side B of the “Abbey Road” album. Paul always gets a bad rap as the one who sold out, while John gets the credit as someone who maintained his artistic integrity. Rubbish. Paul could write songs with beautiful lyrics and lovely tunes, as this song demonstrates. Actually, this whole album ("White Album") is great – a glimpse of the Beatles fragmenting – artistically. They are preparing for the solo careers. The estrangement between John and Paul is becoming increasingly evident. John’s songs sound completely different from Paul’s. By this point, they are no longer collaborating but writing separately. George is coming into his own as a songwriter and guitarist and developing his own identity. By 1968, the Beatles were well along the way to breaking up. This is more than a song – it is poetry set to music.

“Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take these broken wings and learn to fly
All your life
You were only waiting for this moment to arise
Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take these sunken eyes and learn to see
All your life
You were only waiting for this moment to be free.

Blackbird fly, Blackbird fly
Into the light of the dark black night”

• Heroes – David Bowie – (1977): Tired of being labeled the father of “glam rock”, the relentless glare of celebrity, depressed and battling a crippling cocaine addiction, Bowie checked out of Southern California in 1975 and headed to Berlin, to get his mind, body and life back together. There he released three relatively low-profile albums which turned out to be the best in his career. The three were “Low”, “Heroes” and “Lodger”. These albums came to be known as his “Berlin trilogy”. The song “Heroes” (from the album of the same name) is about lovers separated by the Berlin Wall yearning to be together and willing to confront death to do so. The song also features Bowie’s trademark “weary android” voice and superb spacey, spidery synthesizer playing by the great Brian Eno.

“I can remember
Standing, by the wall
And the guns, shot above our heads
And we kissed, as though nothing could fall
And the shame, was on the other side
Oh we can beat them, for ever and ever
Then we could be Heroes, just for one day

Though nothing, will keep us together
We could steal time, just for one day
We can be Heroes, for ever and ever”

• Desecration Smile – Red Hot Chili Peppers – (2006): These guys have passed the longevity test. They have been around for twenty five years. Through singer Anthony Kiedis’s long, nearly fatal heroin addiction and guitarist John Frusciante’s mental breakdown and institutionalization, these guys have kept battling away. John Frusciante, in my opinion, is the finest guitarist of his generation. He has the “yaargh”, the creativity and imagination to come up with astonishing guitar riffs and licks. Check out the opening guitar riff to this song – delicate, haunting, simple and unforgettable. Kiedis has matured a great deal as a songwriter over the past decade. He is fit, happy and healthy and his voice sounds very good on the last few albums.

And what can I say about bass player Flea? He is one of my all-time heroes. He is just the best bass guitar player in the world apart from being a disarmingly honest, simple, unaffected human being who lives to make music. This man doesn’t do things in half-measure. He is the heart and soul of this band. Like Pete Townshend, he gives it everything when he plays – and nobody could ask for more than that. The 1990s were a bad time for this band. However, they look and sound like they are having fun again, which is very good news for the rest of us.

“Never in the wrong time or wrong place
Desecration is the smile on my face
The love I made is the shape of my space
My face my face”

• Under the Bridge - Red Hot Chili Peppers - (1991): I clearly remember when this song came out. I was living outside of Denver, Colorado. I guess that dates me. The Peppers were a fixture on American college campuses and a cult favorite before this song out. This song along with “Give It Away” which was also released in 1991, made them superstars. The song is about being alone, homeless and a heroin addict in Los Angeles. It is about feeling abandoned and completely bereft. It reflected Anthony Kiedis’s physical and mental state at the time. Pretty powerful stuff. Haven’t we all felt like this sometimes?

“Sometimes I feel like I don't have a partner
Sometimes I feel like my only friend
Is the city I live in, The city of Angels
Lonely as I am, Together we cry”

• Running Scared – Roy Orbison – 1962: Here is a real old gem. What a voice Roy Orbison had!! That soaring falsetto could and still does shivers down my spine. A simple, plain-spoken man with a great gift for conveying emotion through that voice. This song is a classic – you must get hold of this song – beg, borrow or steal it. It is about a woman who is torn between two men. The protagonist is one of these two men and he is sure that she will leave him for the other. Listen as Orbison builds the tension in the song – you do not know what is going to happen. And as that falsetto soars through the roof at the end of the song:

“Just runnin' scared, feelin' low
Runnin' scared, you love him so
Just runnin' scared, afraid to lose
If he came back which one would you choose

Then all at once he was standing there
So sure of himself, his head in the air
My heart was breaking, which one would it be
You turned around and walked away with me”

Don’t you love happy endings? I do.

Humor - The Revenge of Pheluda

A few weeks ago, I had posted a blog called “May God Bless Pheluda” (for those who have not read it, please go to my blog-spot and check out “Humor – May God Bless Pheluda”). Pheluda of course, is the fictional name of the middle-aged Bengali gentleman from Kolkata I had bumped into during my last trekking trip to Uttaranchal.

The blog was meant to (gently) poke fun at middle-class Kolkata Bengalis who travel all over India on vacation during the Durga Puja break in October. Come Durga Puja time, and the shawls, mufflers, monkey caps/ski-masks and bedrolls suddenly make an appearance. Never mind that temperatures in most of India in October are still relatively balmy. Pheluda is prepared for the worst as far as the weather is concerned. He has read about global warming but is still not convinced that its adverse effects have reached the hills of Uttaranchal and Darjeeling.

I love Pheluda and his breed, I really do – as I mentioned in that blog. And I am part-Bengali myself, though I was born and brought up in Mumbai, that most cosmopolitan of all Indian cities. So in case anyone feels that I have slighted Pheluda in any way whatsoever, let me say that he is doing well, very well – thank you very much. And he does not care what people like you or me think.

As a dedicated Marxist-Leninist, his mind is at rest because he knows that he has backed the right political horse, so to speak. Though he was one of the many angry young leftist ideologues who stormed the barricades in the 1960s and early 1970s, he is disturbed by the violent Naxalite movements in large swathes of North and Eastern India. Why can’t those fellows follow enlightened Bengal, he asks, and just vote the people with the right political beliefs into power? Why the violence and the endless class struggle?

He strongly supports Buddhadeb Bhattarcharya, the current Chief Minister of communist led West Bengal. “Clean man”, he says to all who will listen. “Not a whiff of scandal or corruption has ever touched Budoda”. This is true. He knows that the future of Bengal is in capable hands, with Budoda in charge.

However, even a committed Marxist-Leninist like Pheluda has his doubts about the world and his place in it, just like the rest of us. He is not sure about Budoda’s new industrial policy for Bengal. After spending decades on agrarian land reform, is Budoda doing the right thing by inviting the hated class enemy – the petty bourgeoisie, Indian and western capitalists, to set up manufacturing units – in places like Nandigram? And what will happen to the landless laborers that supported the Communist Party in the first place? Whatever happened to the slogan “Death to the capitalists and all their running dogs?” Pheluda loved that slogan back in the 1960s.

Pheluda does not have the answers to these vexing questions. But he does know that something needs to be done. His brother now lives in the US, where he is a respected astrophysicist and academic at a very well reputed American university. He loves his brother dearly and paid for part of his education in the US. He is very happy for his brother though sadly, he feels that he has been seduced and corrupted by the capitalist way of life. His brother sends pictures of his large house with its two car garage in an affluent, leafy American suburb and also of vacations in Europe. On their bi-annual visits to India, his brother’s children speak in a strange accent and Pheluda cannot understand them when they speak to him in English – a language he knows well.

His sister’s sons have moved out of Kolkata and live and work in call centers and information technology parks in Mumbai and Bangalore. Pheluda knows that Bengal needs jobs and employment. He is just not sure that inviting capitalists is the best way to do that.

On the domestic front, there are difficult issues to deal with as well. His daughter who has recently graduated from college wears tight, revealing clothes and watches too much MTV. Pheluda also suspects her of having a tempestuous romantic relationship with that young Marwari fellow who lives across the road, the one whose father Pheluda suspects of hoarding “black” money. Of course, Pheluda has no proof of this, and has not brought it up with her. She never discusses her life with him and never listens to him. She is just like her mother. He hopes that he has given her a proper Bengali upbringing, but he still worries sometimes. I need to get her married soon, he reminds himself, to a nice Bengali boy.

His son has a pony-tail and spends his spare time listening to strange music – he calls it “rap” and “trance”. These words have different connotations for Pheluda. A “trance” was something one went into when one smoked too much of that hashish that his old dealer used to sell outside Howrah station. Of course, Pheluda has not told his family of his somewhat checkered youth. No need for them to know – though he has fond memories of that potent hashish. Besides, what does “trance” have to do with music?

When he asks his son about what he calls “gangsta rap”, the boy replies that this is the way that the oppressed boyz in the ‘hood choose to express themselves. What boys and what is ‘hood? And if these boys are indeed oppressed and poor, how come they are driving around in expensive Mercedes Benz cars in those MTV music videos, with attractive, scantily clad girls writhing in their laps? By the way, Pheluda is a fair-minded man and will be the first to admit that some of these women in the videos are indeed nice to look at. And what do the mean streets of East Los Angeles have to do with his nice, peaceful “paraa” in Kolkata? More questions that Pheluda does not have an answer to.

His children no longer get their clothes stitched from the friendly “paraa” tailor, an old man Pheluda has known since his own youth. Instead, they go to one of the opulent malls that have recently sprung up in Kolkata, and buy brands with strange (and sometimes obscene) names such as Mango and FCUK (Pheluda has banned the wearing of any clothes with the logo “FCUK” in his home). He is a fair-minded man, but one has to draw the line somewhere.

Yes indeed, the world is changing, but Pheluda is a philosophical man. He has done the best for his family for the thirty years that he has worked. He has saved enough for his son’s education and his daughter’s marriage. None of his family members share his belief in Communism as a force of salvation. This disappoints Pheluda, but in the end, he loves them and wants all of them to be happy – even if that means his daughter marrying that Marwari fellow who lives across the road.

Trekking - Chasing the Rainbow

There is a lot of beauty in this world. One has to look for the beauty, but it is definitely there. Living in crowded cities sometimes makes one forget this.

What makes you happy? Personally speaking, I am at my happiest walking among the clouds, high on a sun-drenched Himalayan mountainside. I usually go in the month of November – the best time of year for trekking. The days are perfect for walking (though the nights are cold), there is no pollution and as you get off the main motorable roads, you feel a century away from the modern world.

These are memories I cherish, because they sustain me through the less-than-happy times. I have lived in the American Rockies - very nice mountains. I imagine the Alps are similar. They are beautiful, but the Himalayas are a different experience altogether. They inspire not just respect, but reverence. This feeling of reverence is easy to experience, but difficult to explain or convey. However, I will try.

Why is it such a joyous, life-affirming experience? Because when I am in the middle of a forest in the Himalayas on a clear day, miles from a main road and surrounded by everything nature has to offer, I am in my element. All my insecurities, jealousies and pettiness cease to exist. I am strong but compassionate, calm yet curious, fearless yet prudent, grave yet with my sense of humor intact, detached yet connected to everything around me in a way that I cannot describe.

At times, I enter the "Zone" - where for a moment, I become one with the earth below my feet, the sky above me, the trees around me and the mountains that dominate the horizon. I feel connected to everything that there is, everything that ever was, and everything that ever will be. It is a feeling better than money, sex or anything else this world has to offer. And I am not a New Age philosopher by any stretch of imagination.

These are the moments of epiphany, of enlightenment. In moments such as these, I become the man I have always wanted to be. I regain my faith in humanity and again believe that it is possible for me to leave this world a better place than when I found it.

I remember the lyrics to an old Bob Dylan song (correctly, I hope):

"Saw a shooting star last night,
And I thought of me,
Whether I ever became
The man I wanted me to be”

To get the opportunity (however brief) to glimpse one’s own full potential, to know what one is capable of, is in itself reason enough to undergo hours and sometimes days of rigorous, exhausting physical activity. It is chasing a state of perfection -I will never get there.

"I'd gladly lose me to find you,
Gladly give up all I got,
To win you,
I am going to run and never stop".

Far away, the dark clouds have dispersed and the rain has cleared on the high mountain ridges, and there is a rainbow. That is my next destination. I will chase that rainbow, though there is no pot of gold at the end of it. But the joy comes in the pursuit of the rainbow, not reaching it. And in the end, it is the journey and what one does along the way that matters and not the destination – in trekking as well as in life.

So, I am looking forward to blue skies, friendly apple-cheeked villagers, dark evergreen forests interspersed with beautiful flowers of a hundred hues, slivers of bright, clear sunshine, glistening ribbon-like rivers, purple valleys and above all, the mighty, high, silver Himalayas.

I am looking forward to the simple camaraderie of a trek with a friend, the tiny tea-shops along the way, the little wisps of cloud in an azure sky, the giant Himalayan eagles circling for prey in the valley far below, the feeling of being part of Mother Nature's universal and unique heartbeat and of being connected to something that has been there forever – nothing in the world compares with it.

I remember the lyrics to an old song by a long-defunct band called Canned Heat:

"I'm goin' where the water tastes like wine,
Gonna jump in the water,
Stay drunk all the time"

Who knows? Maybe someday I will become what the Tibetans call a sennin - a crazy old man of the mountains - half mystic, half madman. I doubt that, though some of you may say that I am already well along the way!!

People - The Meaning of Greatness

How does one define a great human being? He or she is reasonably intelligent, caring, compassionate, ethical, humorous, well-read and passionate about what they do with their lives. All of them touch and positively affect other people around them.

This is a short definition, and going by it, there probably are millions of people around the world who would qualify. However, you will agree that very few of us personally know many great human beings. There must be some intangible quality then that must be present in a great person that distinguishes them from the multitudes. These intangible qualities vary.

For example, the great Carthaginian general Hannibal was an exceptional military leader and motivator of men. Two hundred years before the birth of Christ, he led a multi-cultural mercenary army on a spectacular march across the Alps in Italy to defeat the much larger Roman armies in battle. This army was not composed of troops from his home country – Carthage (modern-day Tunisia). They were from all over Africa and what is modern-day Spain. So patriotism was not an influencing factor in their love for Hannibal.

Yet he managed to command their loyalty and devotion for sixteen long years, even towards the end, when he was finally overwhelmed by the numerically superior Romans and his army was struck down by disease and attrition. Contrary to much history written at the time, Hannibal was no barbarian. In many cases, recorded history has no relation to the actual events that may have taken place, since it is written by the winners. But that is the story of another blog. Hannibal was an extremely cultured, well-read man and probably the single greatest military genius of all time (apologies to Cyrus the Persian, Alexander the Macedonian and Julius Caesar the Roman).

Mahatma Gandhi was a great man who preached peace instead of war. Albert Einstein was a great man because of his path-breaking discoveries in the field of physics and because of his humility. Nelson Mandela is a great man because he preached reconciliation between the races in South Africa – a very difficult thing because of the history of hatred between blacks and whites in that nation. He forgave those who hated him and wanted him dead. He single-handedly prevented civil war in South Africa in the early 1990s.

One trait that distinguishes the great from the good is that great people keep doing what they love, irrespective of whether they are recognized for it or not. They do not care if the world views them as heroes or not. They are often ridiculed and threatened. They do not care if they look foolish or quixotic at times. They never give up in the face of huge odds that would daunt or discourage the rest of us. One such man is Baba Amte – someone who in my opinion has done as much if not more for the people of the Indian state of Maharashtra than his peers and so-called social activists, most of whom have been conferred many more awards and accolades.

Who is Baba Amte? He is a 93 old year old man who has devoted his life to eradicating leprosy, preaching environmental conservation and teaching rural children to read and write – all of this in the most backward parts of the Indian state of Maharashtra. He has never asked for money, recognition or public adulation. He resists all attempts to deify him. He insists that he is no saint – just an ordinary human being. He has done so much for so many and asked for so little in return. And he has a wonderful, gentle sense of humor to go with all his other qualities. He was recently described as a legend in a self-centred nation. That is about right.

The Dalai Lama is another great man with an infectious sense of humor. At a recent interview, he was asked how it felt to be a god-king and spiritual leader of millions. He threw his head back, laughed whole-heartedly and said “I am an ordinary Buddhist monk”. No false modesty here, just the truth. Incidentally, I am not religious but Buddhism is the one way of life I admire. Twenty-five hundred years ago, the Buddha proclaimed two simple principles:

(1) True liberation of the soul is achieved by relinquishing control not acquiring it – this is contrary to the basic principles preached by all other organized religions, which state that rules and control imposed by a Higher Being should govern our lives. This principle was path-breaking and truly profound for its time, and still is.

(2) Real happiness comes from within, not without.

But I digress. What are the other hallmarks of great people? Many of them have faced unimaginable horrors and seen human nature at its worst. Yet their souls are untarnished, uncorrupted. They are intelligent yet simple, consistent and possess a child-like innocence that cannot be touched. The core of who they are as human beings is not for sale or compromise. That is wonderful to see. What makes the rest of us cynical and jaded only makes them stronger and more committed. They thrive in the face of adversity.

Greatness has nothing to do with how one looks, or whether one is well-educated, wealthy or well-traveled. It has everything to do with being able to consistently empathize with those around you. It has everything to do with bringing out the best in those around you, without actually trying. It is about being able to ignite the spark of divinity and goodness that exists in us all. Great people make us want to be better human beings, consciously or unconsciously.

Many people think they possess these qualities – in reality, very few do.

Great people stand out like beacons during the bad times. Like lighthouses in the days of old, they guide you home when you are lost. There is an old blues song that goes “Nobody knows you when you are down and out”. Well, these people do. I know a couple of such individuals. I will not embarrass them by mentioning their names since they will have visited this blog-spot by now, and some of you will know them. Suffice to say, I have known both of them for many years now. They are my “go-to” people – those I turn to when there is nowhere else to go. For this, and for their exemplary patience, empathy, good humor and talent for telling it like it is, I will be forever in their debt. Being who they are, they do not view it like that and would be genuinely surprised and embarrassed if I ever brought it up. So I won’t.

We tend to confuse great qualities or attributes with greatness. They are not the same. Somebody could be a great scientist or athlete but not be a great human being. I like money as much as the next person, but all rich people are not great human beings. Therefore, greatness is not always visible and not always easy to identify or objectively assess.

As I mentioned at the start of this essay, greatness is an intangible quality. But more people than you think may possess this quality. So watch out because the great walk in our midst.

Environment - Save the Tiger, save India

The tiger is under threat - everywhere. Recently, the International Tiger Coalition, comprising 35 organizations working to save wild tigers including the World Wildlife Fund, assembled the world's largest photo mosaic of a tiger in front of the World Forum Convention Center in The Hague with the message "End Tiger Trade”.

Currently, the chief threat to the tiger comes from China, where tiger parts and bones are used in ancient Chinese medicine. Tiger parts and bones allegedly cure everything from cancer to impotence, though there is no scientific evidence for these claims.
While the Chinese government has banned the sale of tiger parts for the last fourteen years, there is increasing pressure from Chinese “tiger farm” owners to lift the ban. “Tiger farm” owners in China have bred five thousand tigers in the hope that the Chinese government will lift the ban on the sale of tiger parts and re-establish this extremely lucrative trade.

Lifting this ban would be a disaster because it would again mean an increase in the poaching of wild tigers. A majority of wild tigers live in India. In addition, there are about three hundred Siberian tigers left in northeastern Russia - in a biosphere near Vladivostok. Siberian tigers are the largest cats in the world, and can grow to be ten feet long and weigh upto six hundred pounds. There also are a few hundred tigers left in Nepal, Bangladesh, Myanmar, Vietnam, Cambodia and Indonesia.

Estimates of the number of wild tigers in India vary – the actual number is probably in the region of two thousand. These tigers mostly live in forest sanctuaries such as Corbett National Park and Ranthambore National Park. These sanctuaries serve as “islands” and are the last refuge of this majestic animal. The low numbers of tigers and the “islanding” of their population has already meant that wild tigers in India are susceptible to many diseases, due to inbreeding. We can ill afford further reduction in their numbers.

The Rajasthan High Court has come down heavily on the state government and the Ranthambore Tiger Reserve authorities who are to blame for the dwindling number of tigers in the park. Tiger numbers are dwindling in India and across the world as a recent survey of the Sariska National Park shows. There are very few or no tigers left within Sariska.

The High Court has observed that governmental and park authorities are more focused on obtaining domestic and international funds (supposedly obtained to protect the tiger) instead of actually taking concrete steps on the ground.

The tiger is more than a majestic big cat. It is our national animal and the symbol of India, and represents everything that is wild, beautiful and free in our country. If we lose the tiger, it will be a quick, slippery descent into ecological hell for India. In the long run, protecting the tiger means protecting our rivers and forests and the future of our children. The extinction of the tiger will eventually hasten our demise as a species.

The whole approach to tiger conservation in India needs to be revamped - by taking it out of the hands of corrupt governmental officials (who often swallow the funds sent by local and international aid agencies for tiger conservation) and placing it squarely in the hands of local people who live in the forests. A comprehensive awareness campaign needs to be developed and implemented to educate those who live within or near our forests. The campaign needs to focus on how saving the tiger and its environment can be both economically and ecologically beneficial.

This has been done successfully at Corbett National Park in Uttaranchal. The locals have realized that protecting the tiger is good for the local economy and their bank balances. The tourists who visit Corbett bring money with them. Locals in the Ramnagar area get job opportunities as hotel staff, drivers, guides, etc. They have an economic imperative to protect the tiger and the national park. It makes eminent sense for them to do so.

In addition, forest officers need to be well-armed and well-compensated. Currently, there are many of them who work in our country’s forest reserves only because they are dedicated to preserving and protecting our nation’s natural heritage. They are poorly paid and armed with vintage, single-shot rifles that do not work most of the time. Those who do not succumb to the lure of big money offered by the organized and rich poacher mafia take their lives into their own hands every time they do their jobs. They are outnumbered and outgunned by the poachers.

In the face of such odds, an extreme measure that some countries have adopted is to hand over the protection of national forests and endangered species to their armed forces.

Time is slipping away for the tiger in India. The inept Central Government has no time for real action - they only mouth platitudes. Recent governmental attempts to save the tiger have become mired in politicking, finger-pointing and bureaucracy. There are a few dedicated individuals such as Valmik Thapar and Bittu Sehgal who are in the forefront of the “Save the Tiger” campaign.

Join them. Do what you can. Every little bit helps. Donate money or your time. Spread the message. Raise awareness. Ask your friends to read this blog.

Save the tiger - save India.

Music - Cry If You Want

This is an old post - first written on August 29, 2006 - before the new Who album was released.


The Who is playing some relatively obscure songs on their current World Tour. Some of these songs are gems ("So Sad About Us", "A Legal Matter", "How Many Friends", etc). But for me, the one I really want to listen to live is "Cry If You Want".

"Cry If You Want" is the last song on their final album they made back in 1982. The album ("It's Hard") is by their high standards, insipid and characterless. The lyrics lack the wit, intelligence, humour and sarcasm of their earlier albums - it sounds like a Sting solo album (I now await the righteous indignation of Sting fans). The band sounds like they are just going through the motions here, and this is the only Who album that doesn't tell you a story or advance a well-thought out point of view. Musically, it lacks any sting or punch whatsoever. Though the album sold very well when it was released, it was a critical disappointment.

It was the sad story of popular music in the 1980s - a barren decade for good rock music. It would have been a great album by the standards of corporate rock bands like Styx or Journey or Foreigner that dominated the airwaves in the early 1980s. But by Pete Townshend's own high standards, it was a sad way to say goodbye.

The album was poor - all except for the last song "Cry If You Want". Just when the listener had despaired of ever finding anything worthwhile on the album, this song came on. The opening bars crackle with menace and tension, and then Roger Daltrey's voice - unapologetic and whip-like, suddenly makes an appearance.

The song is about looking back at youth from the vantage point of rapidly advancing middle age. In the hands of anyone else, this would be a nostalgic, weepy, sentimental song. Not when Roger is singing it, though. Instead, it becomes a clear-eyed look at a past that started out full of innocence and high hopes, and ended in hearbreak.

The song focuses on the disasters that occured along the way - the deaths of geniuses like Keith Moon, the sheer waste of young life through over-indulgence and excess, the breakdown of marriages and relationships and the way the whole brave new world of the 1960s was hijacked and distorted by drug-crazed radicals, a mercenary record industry and a ravenous media hungry for sensationalism.

The beauty of the song lies precisely in its refusal to look at the past through rose coloured glasses and the ability to look at one's own flaws and follies without giving excuses. This song challenges the listener - it is not friendly or forgiving, it is in-your-face and real. When Pete Townshend writes such brutally honest, intense songs, nobody can match him, except maybe John Lennon in his "Working Class Hero" days. Songs like this are not for everybody because they are uncomfortable to listen to. But for those who decide to stay, there is no other way to write (or listen to) modern music.

"Once there was just innocence,
Brash ideas and insolence,
But you will never get away,
With the things you say today,
You can cry - if you want"

And finally, right at the very end of the song come the staccato machine-gun bursts of electric guitar - the famous Pete Townshend power chords that are absent in the rest of the album. They will blow you away, I promise. Maybe this was Pete's way of saying goodbye to the band he created. Maybe at the very end of the first incarnation of the band, he felt guilty that had foisted such a mediocre album on the fans that had stayed loyal for more than a decade and a half. Who knows?

If the band's first album in twenty four years (about to be released) contains songs even half as good as "Cry If You Want", it will blow every single current band out of the water. Anyway, the old boys are back in business and playing this song at several venues of their current World Tour. For those who are fortunate enough to catch the band live - enjoy!!