The Chaperone

I was in Mumbai doing my masters at the turn of the millennium, and unexpectedly I adopted the role of a chaperone for a bunch of friends and acquaintances who chose to fly out of India via Mumbai. I have never understood whether it was coincidence or my capabilities that began to draw more people to transit via Mumbai. At the beginning, I was taking this role less seriously, but soon I realized that it was giving me the opportunity to learn about the nocturnal life of the city that never sleeps. I could not resist throwing away this chance to explore the streets of this ancient city, where everything was a fascinating tale that had connections far back in time.

I used to live at Matunga, this is near the centre of the city - Dadar. To reach the airport at Andheri, I had to catch a train from Dadar or West Matunga or Kings circle station. These stations were equi-distant from my hostel. I would take turns in giving each of these stations a visit in order to avoid the redundancy, which is a habit that I have avoided cultivating. To walk to Dadar station, I would pass through the infamous five gardens, where one can get lost amidst the amorous couples entangled in acts of passion. Reaching Matunga west involved crossing a bridge that seemed to run over the land of Mordor, all we could hear was clanking of metal and sparks from the blacksmith's foundry. The King's circle station was hidden behind a string of duplex houses, which seemed to be standing on their last legs, shuddering continuously with the fear of collapsing, everytime a train would pass by. Once I would reach Andheri, I used to hire a auto rickshaw, a ride that would last for nearly 40 minutes, through different terrains - some laid, many unlaid.

As the flights were timed to leave or reach Mumbai few hours past midnight, I would end up rushing to the Andheri station to catch the last train back home. Strangers, who lie in the shadows of our mind during the day, were basking in limelight in these wee hours of the morning. The stations would be still filled with people, I have always wondered what their destinations were. An odd silence would be on the streets during my walk from the station, I could feel the city still alive, but like a light sleeper, ready to wake up at the sound of silence. The stars that can be rarely seen in the mist of smoke, steadily glowed until they were bright and colorful, making themselves, finally at home. At the hostel gate, I used to make my final stop, to have a cup of hot chai. How did this chaiwallah decide that this is the best hour for business has been a unresolved mystery to my mind . I am still glad that I got be a part of all of this. Luck never knocks twice, they say; I have never been part of a similar adventure since I left Mumbai.

The day I scored 5 goals

It happened many years ago, on a hot summer evening, in a football field in the suburbs of Chennai. Although, cricket captures the imagination of most of India, there are few of us in those billions who thrive to match the football fanaticism more observed in other hemisphere's of earth. There were about 12 of us who shared an interest to kick the football around, and we decided to make it a daily event. The teams were decided for the season, which lasted for may be less than a month, and it was a matter of pride to be there and win the games.

I had played soccer in a much bigger environment than this, and considered myself technically superior to the rest. But, little did I foresee that the physical strength of my opponents would put rest to my skills. We were down 5 goals to nil by the end of the first hour; considering that the game used to go on until the sunset, which was more than hour away, it gave my team ample to either make a triumphant comeback or be thrashed to oblivion. A moment of provocation by a good friend, a fiery opponent at that moment, instigated me to use my head, literally, to break the shackles. A long throw in, I rushed in to the near post, and smacked a header to the top of the invisible (cause we used two stones as the goal posts) net. We celebrated as though I had scored the winner, rather it was relief that we were not going to be white-washed, and may be a hope that we might emerge out of his hole unscathed.

Realizing that the ariel route had its potency, a couple of more set pieces from corners and throw ins, resulted in a hat trick of goals for me. Then, came a couple of moments of brilliance with my foot and we were even at 5 goals each. By then game had lasted for nearly 150 minutes, nobody cared anymore if I scored 5 or one dozen, exhaustion had descended up on us with soothing stillness . Though this instance will never ever occur in my footballing career, which continues to last, the memory of it is bound to repeat itself more often. Today, when BBC wrote about Ferenc Puskas and Co. illuminating Wembley nearly sixty years ago with a 6 goal barrage, tongue in cheek, I decided to blog in my mark on history too.

Idol Worship - The Essence of India

Being from India, and born as Hindu, the concept of the Brahma-Vishnu-Shiva trinity and their influence on daily life cannot be ignored. Growing up, we were told mythical tales of good overwhelming evil forces, and its impact on the routine of life. Upanishads, Mahabharata, Ramayana and many other scriptures contain tons of these tales and describe thousands of gods, whose idols can be found in temples across the India. These temples are undoubtedly architectural marvels, which unfortunately is not going to be part of this narrate. Furthermore, colloquial versions of these mythical tales have been construed and passed on by pedants in order to capture the imagination of the millions.

Although, the modern generation, circa 1990 and beyond, who were born after India globalized, when the multinational investors brought the big bucks to commercialize our trinity, disown themselves to these ancient mythological feats. They are still addicted to the concept of idol worship. Alongside, the Indian genes for heart ailments and diabetes, a sequence for idol worship seems to have gotten a place in our genome .

However, this new-found gene seems to have mutated, the worship continues, but no more of immortals, it is of mere mortals, who are transformed to god status and ultimately manifested in the form of idols. This has gained such high popularity that the past may become convoluted soon. I should give due credit to Darwinian principles for this affect, though the influence has been negative in my view.

There has been a rapid growth in these modern idols and also their followers in various arenas such as sports, politics, religion, business and entertainment. These idols seem to have their own type of temples, which have sprouted up at a alarming rate. Soon, we might not be categorized anymore by caste or economic status, but allegiance to a idol. Now, the confusing part arises, how do we incorporate these modern day idols in to our ancient history. I believe that we need quality researchers to set a taxonomy that would enable lesser minds such as your truly to make the appropriate and most accurate choice. Many would presume that these pursuits should stall with the higher educated ones, strangely, they feel that they should join the rest of the herd and become part of this new forming society.

With this my commentary concludes; I have provided the state of the art on the progress of idol worship in India. As a scientist, I am curious to see whether these newer directions will continue to evolve or devolve and can I contribute somhow. If the field progresses much faster than expected, a review will be provided again.