The Yo Yo phenomenon

Nowadays anyone can be a star. So many have their five minutes of fame. But the question arises, for how many, this 5 minutes last longer. Yesterday, I had been to a birthday party. It wasn't the usual birthday event. The birthday girl had invited her friends and family for the concert of the most recent phenomenon in the Indian music industry, Honey Singh, or should I add YO YO to his name as he is known among his fans. Wherever you go these days, to clubs, pubs, weddings, the event is not enough if they don't play Honey Singh's songs.

Personally, I had heard his name before and his songs too, but they never appealed to me. I was aware of his fame which in my opinion has been contributed majorly by the Punjabi crowd. His songs are mostly Punjabi songs. But it was only yesterday that I witnessed how popular a star he has become. The club which has never seen so many heads in the premises before, was flooded with people. Even if there was no space inside, people were ready to sneak their way in just to get a glimpse of the YO YO Honey Singh. Young girls, boys, kids, uncles and aunties were swooning to his numbers. Not to my surprise, all of them had learnt the songs by heart to sing along with their recently-got-popular star.  We waited outside the entrance since it was actually a herculean task to get in, I heard this girl who had convinced her friends ( who seemed disinterested in the star) to come with her so that she could have a glimpse of the revered YO YO. As soon he was on his way to enter the club ( and we were right there at the entrance with this girl) the girl could have almost fainted. Thanks to her friends who were with her while she was dazed. Nevertheless, she wasn't the only one, with her their were hundreds who were dazzled by the sight. 

The Yo Yo performed for an hour or so and left the crowd wanting for more. While many would have been disappointed but I had a sigh of relief as it started getting less suffocating. People scattered here and there, some left, some still danced on to the songs played by the DJ. This was my first Yo Yo experience, but I just wonder for how long can he retain his popularity, I guess at least till the time Punjabis are there, he would anyways have a following. 

Here's a piece from the rapper Yo Yo

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZqSL0QgfTQ0

So here I am in the middle of a conference. The prominent theme is Interculturalism. There are experts from all around the world who have come to participate in the sessions. What sews them together is the curiosity to know about the Other's culture and eventually to present theirs.The other link can be the French language too because it is in this language that the sessions are being presented. 

When one comes across the term French, he abounds himself with the images of Eiffel tower, french wines, croissants and crepes. In other words, someone who is ignorant enough allies himself to France the moment he hears french. 

However, the language has no more remained a sole property of the land of its origin. Ever since the French set upon the task of colonising other countries, they propagated their culture and language to these newly discovered lands. While they retreated to their nation during decolonisation, some of them stayed back and they left however an indelible trace, their language. From then on, many countries of the world lay claims to the language. 

French, eventually in all the francophone countries evolved and got mixed up with the local cultures and their native languages. French in Quebec in Canada, in Belgium, in Algeria and even I can proudly say in India ( though a minuscule percentage) has its own colours added to the original langauge. One thus finds out that one cannot ignore this phenomenon of inter/ pluri or multi culturalism which manifests also in the language that we speak. 

I happen to stumble on pleasant things all the time. Today on a poem written in french which very beautifully summarizes the idea of fraternity and says that even if we belong to different countries, we have different colours, races, but above all we are human beings, that's what makes us one. Here it goes

J'ai frappé à ta porte

J'ai frappé à ton coeur 

Pour avoir un bon lit

Pour avoir un bon feu

Pourquoi me repousser?

Ouvre moi, mon frère.

Pourquoi me demander

Si je suis d'Afrique

Si je suis d'Amérique

Si je suis d'Asie

Si je suis d'Europe?

Ouvre moi, mon frère.

Pourquoi me demander

La longeueur de mon nez

L'épaisseur de mes lèvres

La couleur de ma peau

Et le nom de mes Dieux?

Ouvre moi, mon frère.

Je ne suis pas un Noir

Je ne suis pas un Rouge

Je ne suis pas un Jaune

Je ne suis pas un Blanc

Mais je ne suis qu'un homme

Ouvre moi, mon frère.

Ouvre moi ta porte

Ouvre moi ton coeur

Car je suis un homme

L'homme de tous les temps

L'homme de tous les cieux

L'homme qui te ressemble.

                             René PHILOMBE

Post Cards and make people happy !!!!

Little things in our mundane lives can become source of immense joy. Each one of us derives pleasure from different things. For me it could be a simple receiving of a postcard from far off places. I love the whole concept of sending a postcard to a stranger and receiving one from them. Writing whatever you want to make them know about you, your country. The fact that it goes to someone never seen, never known, fascinates me all the more. 

It was some two years back that by sheer luck I got myself to the webpage of postcrossing.com. I always liked writing letters. When I was in school and my sister had joined university, we used to write elaborate letters to each other, sharing the happenings of daily lives, gossiping about people. It used to be almost like a diary maintained of a week, sent to her, with all the intonations intact. Excitement would drown me completely while waiting for her letters. Then came the age of emails and now we have social networking sites. Communication is done so much more faster, who has the time to wait for a letter? Whatsoever it may be but no emails, no text messages can replace the lovely feeling of receiving or sending a handwritten letter or a postcard. It implies that the sender has at least taken the pain to write it, which makes it so much personal, find an envelope and then get it stamped at the nearest post office. 

So I stumbled on this website where complete strangers exchanged postcards. Wow, I thought. I could send postcards to people from countries I have never visited and tell them about my story. I could not wait to get myself registered on it. I had much appreciation for the founder of this website. What a wonderful idea! It is not surprising to see that there are plenty of people who still believe in the traditional old ways of contacting people. This however doesn't mean I would not want to have postcards or letters from my near and dear ones. 

Yesterday while I was busy with my regular work, a postcard got slipped under my door. The swooshing sound of the card made me know instantly that someone in the world had addressed to me his/her postcard. And the yesterday's one was that from Russia, depicting the various types of Russian bread they eat. I was delighted by the new postcard in my collection. I am waiting for many more moments of happiness sent from around the world.

An evening in Paharganj

Having been stayed in Delhi for so long, I still haven't been able to discover and explore the whole city. Yesterday lady luck was on my side and it so happened that I discovered one of the most preferred locations by the tourists (for food and accommodation). And it had only been for our French friends that we stepped into the bylanes of Paharganj at the hour we generally prefer to avoid stepping out alone. It was so much fun. The whole alley bustling with life. Shops, small eateries by the sides, juice shops, the cafes and the people of course, had everything moving.

In the evening, I got a call from my friend to come to CP to hang out with her French friends. I agreed with the plan, thinking all this while that we would be frequenting a bar or a restaurant in CP. Well, I had been taken by surprise when I heard we were heading towards Paharganj. And what a pleasant one! Excitement rushed through me. I had heard so much about the place; both in negative and positive terms. 

Well, we got down at the metro station and walked through to reach our destination. As soon as I got into the area, vivid memories of my Chennai-Pondy-Mahabs trip came alive. It felt as if I was strolling through the  Triplicane High Road in Chennai which is also near the railway station. Or it could be identified with the Mahabs main street where we have all the hotels, restaurants. It all made me feel like a traveller in my very own city where I have been staying. I enjoyed the very feel of it. 

If you are a traveller, you happen to know more about the place than the residents of the city. We had an advantage of our French friends, who love exploring the city as it is without any prejudice or bias. As we were moving ahead, I still had no inkling where we were heading to. We finally stopped ourselves at Sam's Cafe, which it seems is quite popular among students and tourists. We climbed the stairs all the way to the fifth floor to make ourselves comfortable on the rooftop restaurant. This kind of arrangement is generally done in Indian cities to cater to the tastes of foreign travellers, but I would say it panders to every traveller's tastes be it from any region of the world or the country. 

Settling down comfortably in our chairs, we ordered food. In the meanwhile, chats, conversations, giggles ensued. The dinner cam after a very long time. Though we didn't mind that at all, having been engrossed in ourselves. From where I was sitting, I could see a not-so-full moon rising above in the sky. It seemed so beautiful. I savoured this sight along with the pizza I had ordered. After having finished our dinner, we then decided to head to a bar.

We descended back on to the street leaving Sam's Cafe behind. We walked a bit further ahead and I saw something I had never seen before. A shabby looking guy came up to the French guys asking them to get their shoes polished without anticipating any monetary returns. When he seemed to sense they were really not interested, he came downrightly to the point he had been wanting to make. He asked if they wanted to buy hash from him. Had I been alone, I would have got a bit nervous and scared to see these kinds of people. Since we were in a group, I was comfortable. After a bit of hassles with this guy, we finally decided to go to some place, I don't recall the name very well. We sat in front of the TV screen, football playing on it, Arsenal vs Swansea and the male friends automatically got glued to the screen for a while. We got our drinks , bouts of laughter came along. It was getting late for us ( my friend and i) so we decided to leave the French friends and get back to our place. 

What an evening it was! It brought my traveller's spirit alive. It felt so not the Delhi, I have experienced so far. A big thanks to the French group who made it possible for me. I am certainly going to Paharganj again with my group whenever I feel the lack of travelling in life. At least, it would boost up my spirits in a way. 

The wind that blows,

Touches my face,

I think of you and your embrace.

Deep in my heart,

Emotions stir up,

Memories of you, it has enveloped.

Why is the weather so harsh on me,

When all my heart wants,

Is your company.

I wish I could,

Have frozen the time,

When we were together, simply forever..

Morning glory

Rising up early on a chilly winter morning is an uphill task. Lazying inside the cosied up quilt comes so naturally. Snoozing up the alarm every five minutes is unknown to no one. But when you have to catch a train in the morning, you got to keep aside your sublime pleasure of being wrapped up in the wee hours of morning. Today was such a day for me. I had to put myself through the process of getting up early.

However, making up one's mind is the only and the most difficult part. But the moment you get up and step out of your bed and walk out of the house, the first chilly breeze that brushes past your face, refreshes you at once, gets deep inside you and makes it all worth the effort.

On my way to the train station, I see a few cars moving on the roads. We cruise on. It is still dark. The buildings are lit up. I take time to have a keen look at them. Gradually, we approach Connaught Place. We come face to face with the mighty Gyarah Murti led by Gandhiji. 

We then pass by the Bangla Sahib, standing gloriously on my right, beautifully lit up with the backdrop of the dark morning sky. People have started thronging the Gurudwara as today is Guru Purnima. Everytime I see it in the morning, so charming, my heart wishes to stop by and relish the beauty of the moment. We are now in CP. The lighted white columns teeming with people during the daytime is empty. Though it does not appear  abandoned at all. In fact, the emptiness is so fascinating and inviting, I wish I could get out of the car and stroll along. But my destination is calling. So I leave aside my urge and move on. However, I have resolved. I am going to experience Delhi, its enchanting beauty in the morning. The whole idea is tempting. So here I go to discover a city I have known only during the day. 

pleasant memories of Europe

While waiting in the parlour, I had carried a few magazines to pass my time. I happened to stumble on an article that featured Yasmeen Premji, wife of Azim Premji, who according to the article is reticent and keeps away from the media. It's so rare to find these days, someone who still believes in " my work speaks for me". In and around, I see people boasting of themselves even if have no talent.She has many philanthropic ventures to her name. While I am now digressing from what caught up my eye in that article was the fact that when she was in her early 20s, she had gone backpacking to Europe. Could have people imagined at that time a similar thing?  She has come to the fore of media attention because of her debut novel Days of Gold and Sepia.

Backpacking to Europe, brings back pleasant memories of my travelling experience in Europe, specifically France, Italy and Spain. It was not a backpacking trip though. I had never ventured out in India alone. My family had always been there to accompany me or should I say, protect me. But going to foreign shores and that too by myself, was an exciting, liberating and enriching experience, all at the same time. I too had been in my early 20s as Yasmeen and I guess that was the right age to have stepped out on my own.

While I sat on the international flight for the first time, I had no nervousness, neither the pain to leave my family and friends back for a period of 7 months. However, the moment I touched the French soil , I suddenly felt a pang in my heart and as my fingers dialled my sister's number, to whom I am the closest, tears started flooding my eyes and dropping onto my cheeks. The feeling was unimaginable. I did not understand why had I been travelling without anyone I knew. However, this was the initial stage of uncertainty. This faded away after a few days. I started enjoying and relishing the moments I had been witnessing.

I came across a section of people who had been so generous and kind that I had never ever seen before. In the first month as I was searching for an accommodation, the family with whom I was staying was no less than my own family. They assisted me selflessly in everything as one's family would do. They took me everywhere they went, for dinners, art exhibitions, meeting relatives. With such open arms, they had embraced me, it is indescribable in words. Another instance is more than surprising. While travelling across France, I couchsurfed with my friend. We were new to the concept of couchsurfing. We did not know what to expect out of it. Fortunately, it turned out to be such a gratifying experience. It was unfathomable to see people leaving their houses on complete stranger's responsibility to make us feel comfortable. Undeniably, we couldn't imagine ourselves doing it back in India. 

In addition to the people, I discovered the novel landscapes, very distinctive of what India has. I had got an opportunity to view the world through my own eyes. I saw the Alps, the Mediterranean Sea, the Atlantic, the rivers, the cities like Paris, Cannes, Rome, Milan, Venice, Barcelona, to name a few. I had only known about them through school books, newspapers, on websites. To be there was like a dream and I was living my dream. I experienced the Mistral, a wind that blows in the city of Toulon where I used to stay. It was the strongest wind I have ever known of. It actually made me realize how powerful nature is. It is so strong that you feel blown away. I discovered other things such as food, drinks, ways of living of the Other. Most importantly, I came to discover myself, my capabilities, a new vision towards life, a new perspective to see things.

This is the time when I had also been bitten by the travel bug. It has impacted me so deeply. After having seen the  other side of the world, a wish surfaced so profoundly to explore the richness of my own country. India has so much to offer to everyone. I have since then been taking up travelling quite seriously. It is a medium to enrich oneself with first hand experience.  

I have taken this train once before. I didn't have a pleasant experience back then either. This second time, I am planning to write off this train from my list. I am talking of the very Gomti Express. The name is quite duplicitous. Far from being an Express train, it appears to be a passenger train between Lucknow and Delhi. Iopted for it a second time since I had no other choice at my disposition. We appear to be stultified by following the rules and getting our seats reserved. We have confirmed tickets so that our journey is comfortable and  hassle free.

However, the truth unveils itself while we get on board. The seats are all occupied by those who have booked their tickets like us. But, a few others have a general class ticket and still they happen to be in the AC compartment. They, it seems, are the regular travellers with the train. Or to put it in other words, they are the daily, routine passengers. 

It is surprising to see that in our AC compartment, people are standing as if travelling in a local bus for short distances. The entrance is jampacked. There is no space to set a toe. As the train approaches a station, we see an equally crowded platform and people ready to swarm in. There is a sudden transformation of our AC compartment into a general one. One cannot even dare to pass through the sea of people to use the toilets, at least I cannot. 

I am wondering if this a special day where people have thronged this train or does it happen daily? Whatever the case be, I propose that IRCTC should have a link for passengers' reviews, so that one can rate and bring out the experience which might prove to be beneficial for those who might plan reserve trains. I know it seems a bit unreasonable given the condition of trains and the population. In any case, I am certainly not going to take this train anymore.