Let me put in a few disclaimers – I am a big Aamir fan, I have always admired VVC’s vision, I can’t stop loving Raju Hirani’s knack for comedy and some of us have long appreciated Abhijat Joshi, the supposed dark horse. Despite some minor flaws, I loved ’3 Idiots’. I have not read Five Point Someone (or any other book written by Chetan) and for this reason, VVC might have questioned my right to even have an opinion. However, my solidarity with Chetan has nothing to do with VVC’s deranged outburst at the now-famous press conference. I am not letting it cloud my judgment in the same way that I am discounting Chetan’s melodramatic statements on the television – he has been supplying a lot of lowly grist that is the staple in most news channels now-a-days. I keep wondering if the writer in him is incapable of escaping cliches. Also, legally, Chetan’s gripes have no locus standi and he knows it well. The contract he signed with VVC & Co in 2005 is now a part of the dirty linen that is hanging dry in public. The contract has been abided by and nobody can even contemplate a lawsuit. That said, here is why I believe Chetan has been wronged.

All the pre-release publicity for the movie took pains to clarify that it was ‘loosely based’ on FPS. My wife had read FPS and as we drove back from the theater, she kept saying how several plot elements and situations were exactly the same as FPS. Since then, several people have closely analyzed both the book and the movie closely and the internet is awash with solid information on the similarities.

Of course, the whole angle regarding disappearance of Rancho and the quest of his friends to find him is quite central to the movie too and that has no link to FPS. But, the story’s pivot is the 3 friends and their travails in a college. The quest for Rancho takes over in the second half however could such a story progression or such a climax be built upon another story? For illustration, Aamir should ask himself – could we have transplanted the second half of ’3 Idiots’ into any of this other his movies and still walked away satisfied? Could it have fit well into a story about an eloping couple (QSQT) or terrorism (Fanaa) or a cab driver (Raja Hindustani) or short-term memory loss (Ghajini) or a troupe of rural cricket players (Lagaan) or even about a group of happy-go-lucky friends (Rang De Basanti or Dil Chahta Hai)? No, the shoe does not fit! Without the setting and the plot that FPS provides, the rest of the ’3 Idiots’ story would not take any meaningful shape. So, the first and foremost issue is – why not give the story credit to Chetan too, alongside Hirani and Joshi? Sharing it with a third person would have hardly hurt anyone. With the credibility Joshi and Hirani had established with the Munnabhai series, they could have afforded the inclusion of a third story-writer quite easily.

I have no basis for this but I strongly believe this chicanery was engineered by VVC. He bagged the story rights of FPS through a contract his company signed with Chetan on 01 Sep 2005, barely an year after FPS was published. While it had done well, the book had not yet attained the cult following it has today and it was the maiden effort of a white-collar worker who had no footing in Bollywood. Just the prospect of having his booked turned into a movie by stalwarts like VVC and Hirani must have sounded like a big deal.

With no precedent to lean on, he signed the contract which watered down his rights and pegged the value of his magnus opus at INR 1 lakh with another INR 10 lakhs payable upon ‘monetary success of the movie’ and that too, ‘at the discretion of the producer’. Today, it seems a joke that while VVC is laughing his way to the bank (’100 crores in 4 days’) and other major players would have made millions too, the guy whose imagination fired their success was paid a measly 1 million rupees. Of course, a J K Rowling and a Stephanie Meyer would have fared much better because the success of films based on their books was more or less assured by the mass following their books had developed. The usual Hindi-speaking audience of ’3 Idiots’ would have not heard of FPS – a book that was celebrated only by India’s English-speaking urbane lot. That said, INR 1 lakh for a story still sounds like peanuts and the discretionary payment of INR 10 lakhs is just slighly bigger peanuts. Legally, VVC also fulfilled another consideration – of putting Chetan’s name in the credits however VVC must ask himself – when the story is so heavily borrowed from the book, should not such a credit roll immediately after the story/script/screenplay credits?

The foolish part of the current histrionics is the denial from VVC & Co that they altered the story so much that it was unrecognizable (‘only 5% borrowed’ is the claim). The tragic part is that Aamir is left holding this bag – he has issued some very serious statements accusing Chetan of being ‘publicity-hungry’ and claiming that Joshi is the guy everyone should be thanking for the story. He is chipping away at his own credibility – if he just read the book, he would know how many times he has been putting his foot in his mouth. Also, Aamir keeps saying ‘categorically’ that Chetan himself told Aamir that the film script is very different from FPS – while Chetan has alternated between saying he was and he was not shown the script and that he was simply repeating to Aamir what Hirani told him. If the final script was shown to Chetan and he still did not speak up the truth, it makes Chetan spineless but such anecdotal evidence is still pointless if Aamir can himself determine how much of the book made its way into the script. So, Aamir, please read FPS and then make up your mind – stop being a mouthpiece for VVC & Co!!

At the end of the day, both parties could lend some more dignity to their claims and VVC & Co could stop being so stingy about sharing the spoils. With its message of magnanimity and high thinking, after all this is over, ’3 Idiots’ could still be remembered for this episode and despite earning millions, that would still make it a flop!

In India, film marketing has rapidly evolved from being informational to interactive. Until early nineties, plastering the walls of the town with the next Mithun-starrer was the only medium of giving everyone a heads-up, aside from trailers ahead of a show and music cassettes ahead of the release. Most of these posters were hand-painted and then, reprinted in millions of numbers. Then, they started printing posters with actual images from the films. Since they were mass produced for several cities, a crude note printed locally would be affixed somewhere on it that would tell the onlooker which cinema hall to go to: ‘Prem Mein, 20 May Se’ or ‘In Prem, 20th may onwards’.

When cable television began its astounding spread in early nineties, Zee TV began showing trailers of upcoming films on TV and countdowns of hit film numbers too. Other channels followed suit. When this became passe, Yash Chopra uniquely promoted DDLJ in 1995 through ‘Making of DDLJ’ on Doordarshan – a documentary-style short feature showing what went behind the scenes while filming the movie. People sat in front of their TV sets across the nation and watched Bollywood’s magic unfold. The impact was enough to provide a huge opening to the movie. Today, the ‘Making Of…’ features are staple for every production and major songs. Along side, every film worth its salt will have publicity tie-ups with a handful of TV channels, newspapers, FM radio stations as well as retail stores and consumer brands (product placement in reverse). In fact, the information feed to the audience begins even before a film is formally announced. A good example is ‘My Name is Khan’ – more than an year back, even before anyone shouted ‘Action’, the gossip sites were rife with how the first letter of Karan’s next opus was not ‘K’!! The first trailer came out yesterday – everyone’s bracing for a relentless winter of MNIK bombardment – so much that you will feel targeted and will drag yourself to the theater in Feb with the hope of being spared after withstanding what promises to be an unapologetic tearjerker!

In such a glut, how can one shine? In two ways, smarter dissemination of information and more interaction with the audience.

A great example of the former is ‘Rocket Singh: Salesman of the Year’. A minimal marketing campaign preceded the release. Leveraging the goodwill enjoyed by the director-writer duo (Shimit Amin-Jaideep Sahni) and the popularity of Ranbir Kapoor, the main lead, the production house released a single photo of Ranbir in the garb of a sardar flanked by Shimit and Jaideep about 6 months before the movie was released. For the urbane crowd, that put the film in the reckoning. Then, cut the chase to the pre-release publicity. It was the first movie in several years that did not have what is understood to be a typical trailer i.e. a quick synopsis of the movie that showcases some major characters, a broad or a delicate hint of the story-line, some songs and some major scenes. Rocket Singh’s television marketing included just a teaser, a second teaser and a promotional song. The teasers had just Ranbir Kapoor, in his sardar character, breaking the fourth wall and making an honest pitch to the audiences to come see his film. No other characters were revealed and the song showcased ‘Pocket Mein Rocket’ is not even in the film. Yet, the strategy worked well and for the low budget production it might have been, I am sure it raked in enough to cover costs and then, some more.

However, such a campaign may be risky for a big-budget mega-starrer where millions are riding on a solid opening. Such films need an implicit commitment from the audience before the release date. The audience should not only note and remember the film, it should become so engaged with the product that it should begin to pseudo-own the success of the film. Their imaginations captured, the people should promise themselves that they will watch it first day first show because if they do not, ‘their’ film will do badly.

Paa excelled in embedding that kind of ‘pseudo-ownership’ among the movie-watchers. The subject of the movie was endearingly universal (a seemingly sensitive portrayal of a father-son relationship) with progeria being the elephant in the room. Amitabh’s stunning make-up was used to good effect to create an unprecedented buzz when they literally removed the carton covering his look in the film. Then, his monkey dance to a playful tune by Ilaiyaraja was shown to have become a national pastime when a documentary-style video feature showed people from all walks of life imitating his moves. There was a plenty of interaction with the potential audience through Amitabh’s blog, the film’s blog and evocative stories in the media about progeria. No wonder that people lined up to check out Paa. In fact, I felt such unity with the Bachchans that I have refrained from seeing it free of cost on the net, as I do not want to rob it of its rightful price.

Just when we thought Paa had raised the marketing bar, Aamir Khan came along and lifted the bar to an even higher notch for his upcoming ’3 Idiots’. He has piqued everyone’s interest with his visits to Varanasi, Chanderi, Kolkata and now, Palanpur! Long before ’3 Idiots’ is released, the audience has become part of the experience and is living it up every step of the way. In a curious case of life imitating art, it is no longer possible to tell if the audience is holding its breath for do-gooder film star or Rancho or a shabby fan of Dada or a paan-chewing Banarasi babu??!! With every moment we devote to Aamir’s latest adventures, we unwittingly and subconsciously become vested in the success of the film. With so much at stake, come Christmas, we must not let the film fail!

Cliff Palace

The stones are stacked upon each other in a very ordinary fashion. Per se, nothing impresses except for the round sunken pithouses (called kiva) which have an ingenious ventilation system and a mysterious small hole on the floor (called sepapu). In a poor rural area of a developing country, the above-ground structures would easily pass off as present-day dwellings. However, we are in the richest country of the world where people no longer live like this. That partly explains the awe and admiration with which visitors around us react when they see these places. The otherness of these structures is pronounced by their provenance (700 years old), place of construction (under a rock overhang in a remote mesa) and our ignorance about the dwellers (the Anasazi left suddenly and left no records).

Mesa Verde National Park in Colorado is a curious American destination – unlike most other historical sites, it does not hark you back to the Swinging Sixties, the Gilded Age, the Civil War or the War of Independence. Instead, it takes you back much deeper into America’s past – the 13th century, about 700 years before Arizona even became part of the Union. That gives Mesa Verde an ambivalence that this nation of migrants took a long time of rationalize and assimilate. The question is how do you treat the relics of a people who were hunted and nearly obliterated by your own ancestors. Thankfully, by the time Mesa Verde’s ruins were ‘discovered’, such a denouement had ceased to vex the American people and their government. The Indian question no longer caused a furrow in the brow of the President and the frontiers of America had expanded beyond the lands envisaged by the doctrine of Manifest Destiny. Its citizens, derived from a multitude of European nations, sought to create national monuments that would evoke their rise in the Land of the Free. However, such a narrative would still be just over 100 years old and fall far short of the broad strokes of millennia of history they left behind in their ancestral lands. It was time to adopt another set of ancestors – not joined by a bloodline but by the footprints they shared on a land they chose to call home. Guilt and remorse were gradually channeled into a respect for diversity and cultural heritage – and a few sites that survived plunder were marked for preservation.

These ancestors went by numerous names – Dine, Hopi, Cherokee, Lakota, Mohegun, Chaco et al – some of them had survived sequestered away in reservations, some had been wiped out in the last 2 centuries and many had long gone at the beginning of the Columbian era. The Anasazi belonged to this last category. They had prospered in the mesas of Colorado and Arizona until the onset of the 14th century and then, they disappeared suddenly. They did not leave behind castles or scriptures – instead they left behind humble dwellings that were given embellished names by archaeologists, like the Cliff Palace and Balcony House.

Today the mesa tops as well as the alcoves are under the guardianship of National Park Service (NPS). White rangers from far-flung states like Ohio and North Carolina lead curious groups of tourists down the winding steps cut into the hillside and up the wooden ladders lined with metal chains. The rangers asked us to observe several precautions for our safety as well as the safety of the ruins. Black and white pictures of the ruins from early days of excavation suggest that the dwellings have been painfully restored to what might have been their full splendor when they were abandoned with lock, stock and barrel intact. Yes, that’s what they did. Apparently, one fine day around 1300 AD, the colony of cliff dwellers decided that it was time to leave. A very rare artifact that you can see on display in the Chapin Mesa Musuem near the Park Headquarters is an earthen pot along with dry corn that was discovered buried in the park a few years back. Aside from granaries that formed the top stories in their dwellings, the Anasazi hoarded excess food into the ground so that it was available in times of bad harvest. This earthen pot was left behind too.

They lugged only some bare essentials as the dwellings and kivas were full of ‘artifacts’ when they were excavated in the early 20th century. Cliff Palace has 23 kivas – round sunken rooms of ceremonial importance and also the place for people to hang around in the hot summer or freezing winter. The sepapu on the kiva floor symbolized the navel of the Earth from which the ancestral Puebloans were said to have emerged when they entered the world. In recent times, scientists have learnt that the Anasazi did not vanish into thin air, instead they migrated south and the Puebloans in New Mexico today are their descendants. When this was discovered, along with the mystery of their disappearance, even the name ‘Anasazi’ was also laid to rest. This Navajo word meant ‘enemy ancestors’ – the present-day Puebloans as well as WASP Americans looking to exorcise their Indian chindis chafed at the term. Now, the politically correct establishment uses ‘Ancestral Puebloans’ to describe the cliff-dwellers while ‘Native Americans’ has fast replaced ‘Indians’ in the vernacular.

The ranger told us that Mesa Verde was the only park where NPS does not like even the small controlled fires. While fires have been recognized as a natural tool of renewal in forestry management, they threaten the existence of the over 4000 archaeological sites including 600 cliff dwellings within Mesa Verde. On the other hand, when the pinyon pine and Utah juniper layer on the mesa burns, it sometime uncovers previously undiscovered dwellings and artifacts.

In the spring of 2006, all Native American human remains and associated grave goods in the park’s collection which were excavated within park boundaries were reburied. The reburial ceremony was a result of 12 years of consultation with the park’s 24 associated tribes, and was performed by both park staff and the Hopi tribe. Due to the sensitive nature of the event, and out of respect for the tribes, the reburial was closed to the general public and took place in an undisclosed park location. Out of sepapu they came and into the sepapu, they went.

Now, I must admit that I had not heard of Rob until I got the pamphlet. I have not heard of him since either – this is perhaps more a testament to my ignorance than his popularity. And, in writing this post, I decided to not research him and write just about the pamphlet. So, yes, I do not know if he won.

The pamphlet does a great job of playing to the gallery. It’s like any election pamphlet I have seen in India, only more slick and glossy. It fulfills the time-honored criteria of what a pamphlet should look like – evoke the tragedy of the present times, trash your competition, promise deliverance and paint yourself as the messiah.

So, on the top is a beaming picture of Rob Astorino in a dapper business suit with a chrome yellow tie. The twinkle in his eyes and the smile in his face are meant to assure you that he is wise yet warm. Underneath the picture, it says ‘Change is coming to Westchester’. This, I found tiresome – Obama used the word ‘Change’ so much last year that it is not only hackneyed by now, it has also begun to evoke some level of distrust after about 1 year of Obama in office, which he does not have much to show for. So, while Rob sounds like a Republican inside the pamphlet, the front cover tries nicely and foolishly to hitch him to the Obama bandwagon.

On the inside left cover, there is again a picture of Rob, jacket-less but with the same tie sitting in an office – you can catch glimpses of the window blinds, the American flag and a computer around him. He has two men sitting down facing him so we see only Rob’s face. He is animated, making a point with his left hand in the air, clutching his glasses. This is meant to project an image of a hard-working leader, who knows how to make a point. The picture has a blurb on it – ‘Lower taxes. Smarter government. Accountability to voters’. Underneath the picture, it paraphrases and repeats the same thing – ‘Rob Astorino will…Stop the tax madness, Consolidate government, Restore transparency and accountability’. This is where I got an inkling that he is a Republican, despite the repetitive ‘Change’ slogan.

There is a letter below the picture addressed to ‘Dear Neighbor’. That Rob will beat the tax horse to death is very clear by the first line of his letter – ‘As a Westchester resident, you pay the highest taxes in America’. Nothing attracts attention better than a scary fact, I guess. Then, using the tax hammer, Rob goes on to bludgeon Andy Spano, who it appears is the incumbent and perhaps Rob’s opponent in the race. It also appears that Andy loves increasing taxes and spending government money recklessly. Then, Rob pulls a neat one on Andy by saying, (as if all the above was not enough), ‘Now, he’s been caught defrauding the federal government by falsifying federal documents and misusing money’. I have no clue if this is true since Rob has not offered any details or evidence – but, in an average voter’s mind, this kind of sends the last nail into the coffin Rob is preparing for Andy.

But, Rob wants to burnish his Republican credentials further. He evokes how Westchester may soon become another ghetto by saying, ’750 units of subsidized housing forced into our neighborhoods, costing over $100 million, overcrowding schools, and driving our property taxes even higher’.

He makes his cause personal by saying towards the end, ‘I’m from Westchester. My wife and I are raising our children here, so I care deeply about this county’s future’. At first, I thought I read ‘country’, but no, he is indeed focused on the ‘county’, as he should be.

Just when the letter was ending on a glorious personal note, he props up Obama’s specter again by saying, ‘After 12 years of Andy Spano, it’s time for a change.’ This line is underlined too, meaning Rob wanted this one to grab most attention of the reader. He may not have the best creative writing team in town but he does owe a debt of gratitude to Obama’s.

The inside right cover lists his leadership credentials – all his singular achievements as well as the posts across various community bodies. His current source of bread-and-butter seems to be ‘Executive, Sirius – XM Satellite Radio’. Underneath, another picture, this time with a red tie, waving his hands purposely while speaking with someone (whose face is actually shown but not named) about something Sirius, I presume.

The back cover is the most interesting of all – a bit of Americana. The title is ‘The Astorino Family’. Here is the only picture of Rob without a tie – understandably, as the candidate must be portrayed as a family man also – not just all work and no play. Rob stands with his wife Sheila, both grasping one each of their two adorable kids, all of them looking genuinely happy. Such a portrayal is not just time-honored in the US, it is time-hallowed.

Yes, you want your leader to have a heart but, you do not elect someone for his skill at raising children. So, back to work and the pamphlet ends with Rob in a suit and tie, gesticulating and his lips pursed open to say, “Join me in bringing change to Westchester.” Ah, not again! Bring on some big money fella, not change!!

I thought the pamphlet was seeking only votes but the last blurb made it clear that Rob’s campaign would not mind your wallet alongside. It says, ‘To donate please make checks payable to: Friends of Rob Astorino.’ I wouldn’t have known why Rob’s friends need my money but for the fine print on the back cover that said discreetly: ‘Paid for by friends of Rob Astorino’ – all of them waiting to get their pound of flesh, if he gets elected.

Tintin visited Tibet in 1958, about an year before the Dalai Lama had to flee in the wake of the Chinese invasion. Tintin loved the country and wanted to revisit. Upset by the title of his memoir published in 1960 (‘Tintin in Tibet’), the Chinese government banned Tintin and Snowy from traveling to Tibet through a special proclamation signed by the Chairman himself. In 2001, China allowed the publication of a Chinese-language version of the by-then famous book with a slightly different title – ‘Tintin in China’s Tibet’. Most Chinese came to love Tintin for his bravery when he traveled to Tibet in 1958 to save Chang Chong-Chen, his Chinese friend. Yet, the Party still held a grouse, for it was Tintin who popularized the word ‘Tibet’ across the world. Had it not been for him, China would have succeeded in its sinister plan to re-name Tibet as ‘The Liberated Land’.

Very recently, the Chinese government finally relented and advised its Belgian counterparts that Tintin could go to Tibet, as long as his memoir from such a journey were titled ‘Tintin in China’ and that he specifically condemn ‘the Dalai clique’ for any dire situation he might face during his travel. Unsurprisingly, Tintin refused however, not everyone knew one of the reasons for spurning China’s offer – Tintin’s ancestry. He was born of Tibetan parents who had migrated to Belgium just before hostilities broke during the Great War. Only Herge and Blessed Lightning knew this.

Blessed Lightning (or Lama Dorje), the lama at the monastery of Khor-Biyong in 1958, who famously saw a vision of Tintin (who he called ‘Great Heart’), had abdicated to India along with the 14th Dalai Lama in 1959. Their party stopped at Tawang, the revered seat of the Gelugpa sect near the Indo-Tibet border. Lama Dorje decided to stay put at Tawang so that he could hasten back to Tibet when the Chinese left. He knew it won’t be soon but he could afford to wait as his blessedness made him immune to disease and degeneration. What Lama Dorje did not mention to anyone was his vision during their sojourn at the monastery – he saw himself welcoming the 15th Dalai Lama at Tawang sometime in the next century. He had seen the face of the 15th Dalai Lama.

At the turn of 2009, Lama Dorje saw portends of some event of huge significance looming large. It would be 60 years since he left his country, which he could still see from a mountain top on a clear day. He learnt of China’s overtures to Tintin and the latter’s subsequent refusal. He sent a telegram to Tintin inviting him to Tawang – he wrote that Tawang is the next best option if Lhasa is off-limits. Tintin was overjoyed to hear from Blessed Lightning and immediately enlisted Captain Haddock and Snowy for the trip.

Tintin’s 1958 visit was undertaken under very different circumstances and he was unable to take a detour to Lhasa. The Dalai Lama always regretted not having met the boy then who Tibet had grown so grateful to and he surely did not wish to miss the opportunity now. With China’s checkered history with Tintin, a meeting with Tintin would also serve well to bring the predicament of Tibetans into the limelight. Lama Dorje made the Dalai Lama aware of Tintin’s roots and invited him to Tawang on the pretext of a religious ceremony however Tintin’s visit was to be kept a closely-guarded secret whose knowledge was limited to only the innermost circle of the Dalai Lama. Everyone knew that if such a visit was confirmed, China would leave no stone unturned to scuttle the plan.

As 09 November 2009 drew near, Lama Dorje saw strange stellar formations in the night sky and unusually beautiful snowflakes from an early snowfall glistening in the daylight. He began to wonder if these were signs pointing to an imminent realization of the vision he saw in 1959.

In the meanwhile, China appeared to have intercepted some chatter that an internationally renowned personality was about to visit Tawang. Worried that it might be Tintin and unable to confirm the suspicion, China initiated a diplomatic offensive to forestall Dalai Lama’s visit to Tawang. The government went into an overdrive, summoning all its covert and overt channels to block the visit. It once again claimed Tawang (and the rest of the state of Arunachal Pradesh) as an ancient Chinese territory and accused ‘the Dalai clique’ of inciting violence and separatism. Alongside, it objected to India’s Prime Minister Manmohan Singh’s visit to Arunachal Pradesh. When neither of the tactics worked, it sought to drive a wedge between Tibetans and India by accusing the Dalai Lama of poisoning Sino-Indian ties. Alas, all conspiracies came to a nought.

The day finally arrived. On Monday 09th November, the plane carrying visitors from Europe landed without an incident near the big Gompa of Tawang. All the houses and the monastery were bedecked with prayer flags and thangkas. The Dalai Lama and Lama Dorje welcomed Tintin and his entourage near the monastery gate and draped traditional katas around their necks. As Dalai Lama cast a look at Tintin, he saw a radiant glow on his boy-like face and he had an epiphany. He had long known that China would not allow peaceful selection of his reincarnation after his demise. To avoid compromising Dalai Lama’s legacy and leadership, he had been considering naming his successor within his lifetime. Now, as he stood there at the foot of the Tawang monastery, he thought Tintin would make the perfect Dalai Lama – young enough to be ordained, sensible enough to lead the Tibetans credibly and famous enough to keep the Tibetan cause alive. With the concurrence of Lama Dorje, Dalai Lama proposed his succession plan to Tintin. Tintin, always full of valor and conscience, saw this as a lifelong mission in the service of the country of his parents and consented.

By evening, the news had traveled far. Newspapers, TV commentators and leaders across the world hailed the announcement favorably and sent in their congratulations for the 15th Dalai Lama. Unbeknownst to everyone, a Snowman watched the developments from a mountain top near Tawang and smiled for the first time.

Smiling Snowman

To answer the question fairly, one must consider some other questions such as:

Should the state government of Maharashtra make it compulsory for cinema halls to play Jana Gana Mana before every show and exhort the audience to stand up for it?

Should Turkey make it unlawful for women to wear scarfs as a symbol of their piety?

Should China continue to ban the practice of Falun Gong?

Several chauvinistic politicians and commentators have reacted strongly to the resolution adopted by Jamait-e-Ulema-al-Hind endorsing Darul-Uloom’s fatwa asking Muslims to not sing Vande Mataram.  I believe willingness to sing the national song or anthem can not be a test of one’s loyalty to the nation. Patriotism and piety are not mutually exclusive; they can co-exist. Singing a set of lyrics will neither a patriot make nor will abstaining make a traitor.

The more serious question is whether an institution (a body of clerics or a government) should be allowed to dictate how an individual ought to behave in personal matters. The thought policing that is inherent in such a fatwa is what makes it abominable. There is no difference between such an injunction and the forced observance of patriotism across cinema halls in Maharashtra or the draconian establishment of secularism in Turkey or the repression of followers of Falun Gong by the communist state in China.

Patriotism and piety have long masqueraded as an individual’s obligation to the collective – as a result, under the pretense of defending these on behalf of the people, governments often clamp down on freedom and justice. It needs to be understood that the absoluteness of an individual preceded the constructs of a nation and a religion. An individual should have the freedom to determine the right levels of patriotism and piety just as each individual should determine for himself or herself the right level of sugar in the tea or salt in the curry.

So, while a body of clerics has no natural right to dictate what constitutes a true believer, the believer in question should also have a right to abstain from singing Vande Mataram or Jana Gana Mana.

That said, one also pauses to wonder why Darul-Uloom would seek to enforce something like this. Their assertion is that the national song seeks worship of the motherland and contradicts Islam’s holiest tenet of monotheism. While that is a fair argument, it is worthy of consideration only when you believe in what you are singing. Words do not carry any weight of their own – just by singing Vande Mataram, a Muslim does not transform into a polytheistic pagan. Heresy is a function of thoughts, not words. If a Muslim infers ‘Vande’ to mean ‘praise’ instead of ‘worship’, clearly there is no conflict with Allah. Scores of devout Muslims in the past 60 years would have sung Vande Mataram in India – there is no evidence that any of them slowly degenerated into a bhajan-spewing idolatrous Hindu. I believe several famous classical Hindustani singers like Allauddin Khan sang thumris and paeans in the praise of Lord Krishna for their musical finesse – none of them turned into a pillar of salt. In recent times, A R Rahman popularised Vande Mataram by re-tuning it – he gave it full effect by using his own voice. I do not believe Rahman’s faith in ‘One God’ took any beating because of the millions of times Vande Mataram reverberated in his voice across the country.  Now, suddenly, Muslims across the country would fear singing the song so that they are not charged with apostasy.

Respected organizations like Jamait-e-ulema-al-Hind and Darul Uloom will be spending their capital more wisely if they sought to reform people’s thoughts by spreading awareness and education, instead of trying to micro-manage and mandate what words Muslims should utter. The latter almost sounds childish and fitful.

Macaulay

I went looking for the original minute on the net and found one here. Despite being portrayed as a villain by the nationalistic textbooks of India, he comes across as learned and well-intentioned. He notices that European languages had come to bear the code to modern knowledge and expecting the natives to master only Sanskrit or Arabic would be unjust as, while that will preserve the ancient rituals and texts, they will not be able to obtain the knowledge that is crucial for progress. He compares such a plan to restricting the Egyptians to studying hieroglyphics. It is not a good parallel since Sanskrit was still in use in India, hieroglyphics had become extinct centuries back. He also advances another faux argument when he compares English in India to Latin-Greek in Europe few centuries before. His essential point is valid but his minute smacks of presumptuousness about what other people think or what is true of India’s classical heritage.

Here is the basic tenet of his minute:

“All parties seem to be agreed on one point, that the dialects commonly spoken among the natives of this part of India, contain neither literary nor scientific information, and are, moreover, so poor and rude that, until they are enriched from some other quarter, it will not be easy to translate any valuable work into them.”

The question then was what shall that language be? Macaulay had no knowledge of Sanskrit and Arabic. He was basing is comments on his discussions with other scholars. He says in his minute:

“I am quite ready to take the Oriental learning at the valuation of the Orientalists themselves. I have never found one among them who could deny that a single shelf of a good European library was worth the whole native literature of India and Arabia. The intrinsic superiority of the Western literature is, indeed, fully admitted by those members of the Committee who support the Oriental plan of education. It will be hardly disputed, I suppose, that the department of literature in which the eastern writers with any Orientalist who ventured to maintain that the Arabic and Sanskrit poetry could be compared to that of the great European nations. But when we pass from works of imagination to works in which facts are recorded, and general principles investigated, the superiority of the Europeans becomes absolutely immeasurable.”

But Macaulay also thought India’s literary heritage to be of little value. His second-hand understanding may have played a part – also, by that time, the renaissance of India’s ancient wisdom had yet to happen. On a sort of high-handed note, he says:

“It is, I believe, no exaggeration to say, that all the historical information which has been collected from all the books written may be found in the most paltry abridgments used at preparatory schools in England. In every branch of physical or moral philosophy, the relative position of the two nations is nearly the same…..I doubt whether the Sanscrit literature be as valuable than that of classical antiquity. I doubt whether the Sanscrit literature be as valuable as that of our Saxon and Norman progenitors.”

Based on these arguments, he comes to the following conclusion:

“We have to educate a people who cannot at present be educated by means of their mother-tongue. We must teach them some foreign language.”

So, again which language? He does not mistake in naming which.

“The claims of our own language it is hardly necessary to recapitulate. It stands pre-eminent even among the languages of the west. It abounds with works of imagination not inferior to the noblest which Greece has bequeathed to us; with models of every species of eloquence; with historical compositions, which, considered merely as narratives, have seldom been surpassed, and which, considered as vehicles of ethical and political instruction, have never been equaled; with just and lively representations of human life and human nature; with the most profound speculations on metaphysics, morals, government, jurisprudence, and trade; with full and correct information respecting every experimental science which tends to preserve the health, to increase the comfort, or to expand the intellect of man.”

But, his argument becomes more practical as he says:

“In India, English is the language spoken by the ruling class. It is spoken by the higher class of natives at the seats of Government. It is like to become the language of commerce throughout the seas of the East. It is the language of two great European communities which are raising, the one in south of Africa, the other in Australasia; communities which are every year becoming more important, and more closely connected with our Indian empire.”

Macaulay, though a Christian, had a neutral stance towards religion. For him, the practicality and usefulness of a language was more important than any other use. He puts this point of view and his narrow understanding of Indian epics to further use when he says:

“We abstain, and I trust shall always abstain, from giving any public encouragement to those who are engaged in the work of converting natives to Christianity. And while we act thus, can we reasonably and decently bribe men out of the revenues of the state to waste their youth in learning how they are to purify themselves after touching an ass, or what text of the Vedas they are to repeat to expiate the crime of killing a goat?”

Finally, he concedes that it will be logistically difficult to educate the entire population of India in English so he suggests creation of a middle class that would form the interface between the English rulers and the masses.

“I feel with them, that it is impossible for us, with our limited means, to attempt to educate the body of the people. We must at present do our best to form a class who may be interpreters between us and the millions whom we govern; a class of persons, Indian in blood and colour, but English in taste, in opinions, in morals, and in intellect.”

He delivered the minute on 02 February 1835 and on March 7, 1835, Governor General William Bentinck issued an order that supported the position of Macaulay, with some slight changes. He mandated the use of government funds for learning in English language and stopped the diversion of funds for printing of ‘Oriental’ books, however decided not to abolish the ‘Oriental’ centers of learning.

Certain serious objections to the content and manner of argument and presentation found in Macaulay’s Minute were raised by another member of the Supreme Council, H T Prinsep (brother of the famous linguist, James Prinsep, credited with deciphering the Brahmi script) who was Secretary for matters pertaining to education. He took exception to the procedure adopted in obtaining the signature of the Governor General in some secrecy. He also objected to the various arguments offered by Macaulay in support of his position. His rebuttal can be found here.

If Prinsep’s arguments had been heard, perhaps I would have been a Sanskrit-chanting priest in India. I certainly wouldn’t be sitting here in the US writing this blog.

I am an avid fan of the West Wing. The show unravels the goings-on behind a typical day at the White House. Something like the President sending a message on Diwali does not happen impromptu – it is preceded by weeks of jostling, planning, debating and wrangling amongst the advisers of the President. So, guess why and how the Diwali greetings happened? Here is what (might have) happened….

Kalpen Modi (Kal Penn in his new avatar), Associate Director at White House Office of Public Engagement, had lunch with Valerie (Jarrett), Senior Adviser and Assistant to the President on Public Engagement, sometime after 15 August 2009. The President had just released messages congratulating Indian and Pakistan on their respective Independence anniversaries. Kalpen explained to Valerie how the messaging from White House towards Indian community needs to get stronger. The Indian-American community in the US could use some love from the Democrat administration – also, Obama’s appeal in India could be leveraged to further strenghen ties with a growing economy. Valerie wondered how. Kalpen mentioned how Diwali could be the right occasion – the festival of lights celebrated by the Indian community worldwide. Presidents had addressed the public for Thanksgiving, Christmas and other such festivals in the past. However, a President had never participated in a Diwali celebration before. Obama fit the bill.

In the next meeting with his top team, Valerie proposed the strategy behind Diwali messaging. Rahm (Emanuel) and David (Axelrod) supported the idea however suggested that Obama’s participation should be seen as inclusive of other communities also and should not be directed at just followers of Hinduism. Obama liked the idea and wondered if Valerie could speak with Jon (Favreau) and craft the right message.

Just ahead of the press briefing that day, Valerie saw Jon huddled with Robert (Gibbs) in the hallway discussing what to feed into the news cycle regarding Obama’s upcoming speech to the Congress on healthcare. Valerie indicated to Jon that they needed to speak as Jon headed back to office. Jon was busy giving some finishing touches to Obama’s healthcare speech but he agreed to stop by Valerie’s office later that day.

When Jon came over, Kalpen was already in Valerie’s office. Valerie mentioned her conversation with the President and requested Jon to work with Kalpen to create a suitable message.

Being buddies, Kalpen and Jon met over dinner that day near the Dupont Circle and talked about the Diwali message. Rashida (Jones), Jon’s girlfriend, joined them as well. Jon’s understanding of the festival was limited but Kalpen filled him in. In order to make the message more inclusive, Jon wondered if Diwali was a special occasion for other communities too. Kalpen mentioned how Diwali was significant day for Jains, Buddhists and Sikhs too. Rashida remembered several vivid details of the festival as well, thanks to her experiences in India and her dabbling in the past with Hinduism. She suggested that, aside from the personal message, the President should also light a ceremonial diya at a White House function with Vedic chants in the background. Jon and Kalpen loved the idea and agreed to take it to Valerie.

Over the next couple of weeks, Jon crafted a message to be delivered by the President with suggestions on the draft from Kalpen. Valerie approved Jon’s draft and the ceremonial diya idea. At the next meeting with the top team, Obama loved the diya idea and later, made only a couple of changes to the draft.

On the appointed day, Obama recorded the video message that had been fed into the prompter and then headed over to the East Room where he lit the diya while a Hindu priest chanted mantras. With the fun over, Rahm whisked Obama into the Situation Room to discuss some pressing matters regarding the war in Afghanistan where General Jones and Joint Chiefs were waiting for him.

1. Kumaoni Lunch: We thought of the best possible way of introducing my parents to our friends in CT and RI – a traditional Kumaoni lunch to be hosted at our place. Once the date was fixed, we worked together to create a menu. From that point, parents took over. We had about 7-8 items decided. For about 4 days leading to the lunch, papa and mummy were busy cooking. Several items were cooked in advance and some the evening before. From the mint drinks to the desserts, it was the Kumaoni flavor all the way. Friends loved the food and parents got to interact with them closely. It was a great afternoon.

2. Summer Fun at Mohegan Sun: At a trip to the Hamonahasset Beach, papa noticed about 6 small airplanes high up in the sky flying in a formation and releasing condensed gas in a pattern to create huge letters against the blue sky. We began to read every letter as it was being formed – eventually, it said, ‘Hot Summer Fun At Mohegan Sun’. Towards the end of their stay, we actually ended up going to Mohegan Sun for a day trip. Mom stayed back but packed dinner for us. It was a ‘Wild Wednesday’ so we got there on time to check out a farmer’s market, a vintage auto show, a cook-off, a tour of the huge casino, the hotel and finally, topped it off with some extravagant fireworks. The trip was an unexpected hit with papa, who on the way back, declared it to be ‘the best trip’ of his stay.

3. Lyman Orchards and Bathua: No other place that we visited enthralled my parents as much as the Lyman orchards in Middlefield, less than 15 minutes from our home.  The first time they saw rows and rows of strawberry and raspberry shrubs, they were just happy to finally see some form of  agriculture (ok, horticulture!). Until then, they had seen inter-states and towns and forests and lakes but never saw a farm. They loved the orchards full of trees laden with ripe peaches and then on the other side of the road, trees stooping with apples about to turn red. During the pick-your-own-fruit sessions we had at the orchards, my mom’s keen eyes discovered bathua, the wild grass used as a leafy vegetable in India for meals. She plucked nearly equal quantities of strawberries and bathua – for the next few days, we were eating bathua paranthas and drinking strawberry shakes.

4. Discovery of Tulsi: As the above example proves, my mom has an eye for trees and plants. From their evening walks, they would bring home some wild berries growing on roadside trees. When we alerted them that this may freak out the tree-huggers around, they brought home apples they found fallen on the ground near the Wesleyan tracks. When I took them on a tour of the university and reached Nidhi’s lab, my father praised the buildings and the facilities. When asked what impressed her, my mom very coyly just mentioned – ‘flowers’ – of all colors across the campus. On a tour of Stop & Shop, as we loaded our cart with the usual produce, mom’s eyes zeroed in on a rack that had some small plants in pots. She had been talking about tulsi (basil) for some time and there she had spotted the basil plant in a pot. Of course, it was not the holy basil variety that is so venerated in India but tulsi nevertheless! We brought it home and my parents had transplanted and created 4 new pots of tulsi in no time. All these pots were gifted to friends we visited, save the original which still sits on our window sill.

5. Nine Types of Pulses: Visiting the Hindu temples in the US was a unique experience for my parents. They were impressed by the mere existence of elaborate temples in the US – full with priests, rituals and regalia. Though we visited 4 temples (Shree Temple in Ashland MA, Balaji Temple in Bridgewater NJ, Shree Satyanarayan Temple in Middletown CT and the ISKCON temple in East Hartford CT), they visited the Middletown temple most often, given the proximity. Knowing that the temple had a pedestal with nine black statues of Navgraha (Nine Planets as per Hindu mythology), my mom remembered to fill small plastic pouches with different types of pulses and offered each one of the gods a pulse each (not randomly; each god was offered a certain pulse). When I pointed out that there were only 8 pulse pouches and that Ketu had not been offered anything, she asked me to offer some coins. But, I kept joking with her about how Ketu will be upset for being treated unfairly – surely enough, on the next visit to the temple, a pulse pouch was duly offered, only to Ketu this time.

6. The Lord’s Midnight Appearance: Talking of temples and festivals, the night of 13th August was the famous festival of Janmashtami, the birthday of Lord Krishna, one of the most popular Hindu deities. All 4 of us visited the Middletown temple in the evening and watched the Lord’s statue being bathed in gallons of milk and then adorned and embellished for puja and ceremonies. This was followed by bhajans sung by volunteers from the crowd – including my mom who sang 3 bhajans on a microphone for the first time in such a gathering. It was about 10pm and though it had been a good experience, I felt that the ISKCON celebrations in northern CT would be even grander. The venue was about half an hour away and after much cajoling, parents agreed to go. Nidhi went home and the 3 of us drove off to the ISKCON venue. It was thronging with people and as midnight came closer, the bhajan singers became more and more delirious – ‘Please clap! The Lord is going to appear in another 10 minutes!!’ The crowd chanted ‘Hare Krishna, Krishna Krishna’, some devotees began to dance in a trance and suddenly, behold – they removed the curtains and exquisitely decorated tiny statues of Krishna and Radha appeared. We ate some midnight feast, mom broke her fast, came home and crashed.

7. Papa’s Diary: My mother often chides papa for lack of interest in reading or writing. To make up for the lost time, papa finished reading a couple of books while in the US (‘Kumaon Ka Itihas’ and ‘Kasap’) and he wrote prolifically in his diary. He maintained the journal very diligently. We never got around to reading it but I remember that it started with his description of how they got the visitor visas for the US. He later accepted our suggestion of using the notebook to paste various pieces of paper accumulated over the course of the stay – from Liberty Island passes to parking slips to grocery receipts to the entrance pass to my office in Midtown. This journal, which he kept under the mattress allow all the pieces of paper to stick well to the pages, recorded his thoughts and events of almost all days they spent in the US.

8. Mummy’s Harela: One of the things my mom did not forget to bring along to the US was a Hindu calendar for the 2.5 months of their stay. The calendar listed all holy days – festivals, fasts etc. She used it to good effect and we celebrated, amongst others, the Harela festival. This is an important Kumaoni event that is closely tied to the harvesting season. Each family sows seeds of 3-4 different pulses or grains in a pot ahead of this day such that by Harela, the pot is brimming with saplings of different types. Mom was worried that we did not have the right type of grains or seeds to enable the seeds to drop anchor. But, her ever-improvising skills rescued the day – she brought some eclectic pulse grains together, put them into a small pot and drop anchor they did. On the appointed day, she did not forget to ask Nidhi to bring home a printout of Lord Shiva from her computer lab (like several others, including a ‘Hanuman’ to be stuck on the car’s windshield on the day of their departure to the airport). The printout was duly put on the wall in a corner of the kitchen, anointed and worshipped alongside the Harela pot and finally, the Harela leaves were put on our heads by way of a Kumaoni ritual that accompanies a series of blessings (including ‘May you go to defecate with the support of a walking stick’ meaning you live long to be an old dodderer).

9. A Medical Certificate: One of the biggest worries of papa as he entered the US was making sure his government office back in Bhimtal Uttaranchal was fine with his stay in the US. His initial sanctioned leave was for a month. Then, owing to some health issues and our insistence, he wanted to stay longer in the US but that would mean filing a leave application and a medical certificate with his employer. During the course of a couple of tumultuous days, we sent his application by registered USPS post as well as via a fax and email scan to his office at midnight (so that his office colleagues keep the fax machine up and running when it gets transmitted). The fax and the email went out after a lot of trials and errors. Then came the question of a medical certificate. Fortunately, papa was under the care of a doctor of Pakistani origin at a nearby walk-in and the latter agreed to provide a certificate. Though the certificate did not have the usual insignia of validity as per Indian custom (a letterhead, a round seal, a designation stamp) and it had the date written in the American format (month before the day), it was as authentic as an American certificate could get. I believe papa fretted over the look of the certificate up until it was finally accepted by his office upon his return.

10. The Airshow: One of our first outdoor trips was to Rhode Island. We first went to the Quonset Airport in RI where the US Air Force had staged an airshow. It was the first big gathering of people my parents saw in the US – so many white people all at once! The place had the look of a fete with umpteen families frolicking around. The primary attraction were the mighty fighter planes that took to air time and again in formations and performed acrobatics. On the ground though, the air force had also opened up some of the planes with huge hulls for free public tours into them and also inside the cockpit. Nidhi and my father sat on the pilots’ seat and looked triumphant. It was a fun trip for all of us, followed by lunch at the all-American Ruby Tuesday and a visit to the Elms in Newport. On the way back, papa happily filmed long stretches of the highway on video from the back seat, covering all possible angles. Till later, he would consider the wide well-kept roads to be one of the most impressive things about the US.

11. Mahabharata: The legendary mythological TV show from the nineties made a comeback in our home, thanks to the Science Library at Wesleyan University. Nidhi got each of the 16 DVDs issued in sequence. So much engrossed were they in the series, my parents would watch as much as 6 episodes on a single day. They watched all 94 episodes in over a month and repeated some of the story arcs. I got to watch a few episodes as well and enjoyed the nostalgia of the grand show replete with amazingly written shuddh Hindi dialogues but tacky special effects. Once it was finished, my mom rued that the Science library did not stock ‘Ramayana’.

1. The Greatest Show on Earth: The Evidence for Evolution by Richard Dawkins: His ‘The God Delusion’ was intelligent, witty and ‘consciousness-raising’. This one apparently tries to explain the premise of all his previous books – why ‘Theory of Evolution’ is not a theory, but a fact. However, for the creationists, here is another tall tale from someone they consider only second to J K Rowling!

2. Where Men Win Glory: The Odyssey of Pat Tillman by Jon Krakauer: I have thoroughly enjoyed all his ‘Into/Under’ books and am pretty sure this one moves effortlessly between Tillman’s unusual story and USA’s escapades into Iraq/Afghanistan. While there, its bound to make you think about glory, futility and everything in between. I am sure Krakauer dives deep into the cesspool of America’s ‘good war’ and asks some hard questions. For all the conservatives out there, this will be an imaginative / biased account written by a bleeding-heart leftist.

3. The Lost Symbol by Dan Brown: Although always panned by critics, Dan Brown’s fare is entertaining and quixotic. I loved all his previous ones (especially starring Langdon) and am sure this novel mixes little-known historical facts with a doomsday-cum-murder mystery. The jacket of the book is very inviting with all those symbols thrown in around the Capitol rotunda and the Freemasons’ seal. Except for conspiracy theorists and revisionists, this book will be belittled by everyone as a flight of Brown’s imagination!

Where on this fact-fiction continuum do you belong?