Compromise

Main Entry: com·pro·mise
Pronunciation: 'käm-pr&-"mIz
Function: noun
Etymology: Middle English, mutual promise to abide by an arbiter's decision, from Middle French compromis, from Latin compromissum, from neuter of compromissus, past participle of compromittere to promise mutually, from com- + promittere to promise -- more at PROMISE
1 a : settlement of differences by arbitration or by consent reached by mutual concessions b : something intermediate between or blending qualities of two different things
2 : a concession to something derogatory or prejudicial

^ ^ ^

Ain't life one big enormous compromise ??? And not everyone wants to meet halfway....

Google Earth

If there is one software you should download - download this. It is mindblowing. The global satellite imagery is fantastic.

http://kh.google.com/download/earth/index.html

Guess the profession...

Ever wondered what job you'd be doing if your folks never emigrated from the sub-continent ? Would you be a farmer, tailor, doctor, subservient wife, teacher, writer, chai-walla maybe ? ;)

Let me see now...my father served in the military, as did my maternal uncles - who saw action in '71, so did my great-grandfather who fought in a Sikh regiment in France during the First World War. Hmm...wonder what I would have ended up doing ? :) No airy-fairy liberal arts studies for this nau jawan...

Some habits die hard...many years later in England, I remember my father used to drag me out of bed at 6.00am on a Sunday morning and insist we went out running and did sit-ups. Thing is though, I was only 8 years old.

Another time, when he became exasperated at my slow speed of eating breakfast (I think it was cornflakes) - he said to me: "Beta, you really should hurry up your food. If you were in the navy like I was, you would realise that anytime you could come under enemy attack!!!" ...and meal times were never the same since...I spent half the time looking over my shoulder and skywards than at my dinner plate.

...sometimes, changing countries can be a liberating experience.... :)

Life Chess

Life is like a game of chess...you just can't defer a move forever.

And sometimes your previously overlooked weakest piece is the one that is holding your entire game plan together...

End of chess lesson. :)

Of Greeks and Persians.

It's quite remarkable how your personal perceptions of any one individual can colour your views about an entire race or ethnicity. (I say that without qualification, because life is too short to delve into statistics that will disprove this sterotype - and right now, I don't care for any politically correct insights). In the past few days I've had business dealings with 4 individuals - 2 Greeks and 2 Iranians, none of whom knew each other. Without going into specific details, both Greeks tried to either renege on the deal or short change me, whilst the Iranians were willing to go the extra mile and put their personal credibility on the line...after all, personal trust still forms the basis for the wheels of commerce to flow smoothly.

I will never look at Western pro-Hellenic accounts of ancient Greek-Persian conflicts in the same light again...the phrase "beware of Greeks bearing gifts" has never sounded so true. The only Greeks I want to meet now are those who are either serving me in a restaurant or who are located on the other side of the TV screen....

...and I wish Iran all the best for World Cup 2006. :)

ps. just in case you were wondering - no, I'm ain't no drug dealer. ;)

Udham Singh

Asian Dub Foundation
Song: Assassin (a tribute to Udham Singh)
Album: Rafi's Revenge (1998)

Mohammed Singh Azad
Zindabad

No apologies
Not a shot in the dark
This is a warning
The Sleeping tiger awakes each and every morning
The time is now right to burst the imperial bubble
My act of revenge is just a part of the struggle.

A bullet to his head won't bring back the dead
But it'll lift the spirit of my people!
We'll keep on fighting
We've been a nation abused
Your stiff upper lip will bleed
And your pride will be bruised.

No apologies
Not a shot in the dark
This is a warning
The Sleeping tiger awakes each and every morning.

We'll keep on fighting
We've been a nation abused
Your stiff upper lip will bleed
And your pride will be bruised
The time is now right to burst the imperial bubble
And my act of revenge is just a part of the struggle.

Synchronise time
Vengeance will be mine
As I cross the curzon line into his mind
I will burn the trophies he owns
Symbols of a future postponed.

Mohammed Singh Azad
Zindabad!

A bullet to his head won't bring back the dead
But it'll lift the spirit of my people!
A bullet to his head won't bring back the dead
But it'll lift the spirit of my people!
I'll shake hands with the hangman
I'll wear the noose with pride
For unlike the British I've no crimes to justify
Pentonville will be my last place on earth
And death will return me to the land of my birth.

**************************************

On the 31st July, 1940, Udham Singh was hanged at Pentonville jail, London. On the 4th of June in the same year he had been arraigned before Mr. Justice Atkinson at the Central Criminal Court, the Old Bailey. Udham Singh was charged with the murder of Sir Michael O'Dwyer, the former Lieutenant-Governor of the Punjab who had approved of the action of Brigadier-General R.E.H. Dyer at Jallianwala Bagh, Amritsar on April 13, 1919, which had resulted in the massacre of hundreds of men, women and children and left over 1,000 wounded during the course of a peaceful political meeting. The assassination of O'Dwyer took place at the Caxton Hall, Westminster. The trial of Udham Singh lasted for two days, he was found guilty and was given the death sentence. On the 15th July, 1940, the Court of Criminal Appeal heard and dismissed the appeal of Udham Singh against the death sentence.

Prior to passing the sentence Mr. Justice Atkinson asked Udham Singh whether he had anything to say. Replying in the affirmative he began to read from prepared notes. The judge repeatedly interrupted Udham Singh and ordered the press not to report the statement. Both in Britain and India the government made strenuous efforts to ensure that the minimum publicity was given to the trial. Reuters were approached for this purpose.

Shorthand notes of the Statement made by Udham Singh after the Judge had asked him if he had anything to say as to why sentence should not be passed upon him according to Law:
Facing the Judge, he exclaimed, 'I say down with British Imperialism. You say India do not have peace. We have only slavery. Generations of so called civilization has brought for us everything filthy and degenerating known to the human race. All you have to do is read your own history. If you have any human decency about you, you should die with shame. The brutality and bloodthirsty way in which the so called intellectuals who call themselves rulers of civilization in the world are of bastard blood...'

MR. JUSTICE ATKINSON: I am not going to listen to a political speech. If you have anything relevant to say about this case say it.

UDHAM SINGH: I have to say this. I wanted to protest.
The accused brandished the sheaf of papers from which he had been reading.

THE JUDGE: Is it in English?

UDHAM SINGH: You can understand what I am reading now.

THE JUDGE: I will understand much more if you give it to me to read.

UDHAM SINGH: I want the jury, I want the whole lot to hear it.

Mr. G.B. McClure (Prosecuting) reminded the Judge that under Section 6 of the Emergency Powers Act he could direct that Udham Singh's speech be not reported or that it could be heard in camera.

THE JUDGE (to the accused): You may take it that nothing will be published of what you say. You must speak to the point. Now go on.

UDHAM SINGH: I am protesting. This is what I mean. I am quite innocent about that address. The jury were misled about that address. I am going to read this now.

THE JUDGE: Well, go on.
While the accused was perusing the papers, the Judge reminded him 'You are only to say why sentence should not be passed according to law.'

UDHAM SINGH (shouting): 'I do not care about sentence of death. It means nothing at all. I do not care about dying or anything. I do not worry about it at all. I am dying for a purpose.'

Thumping the rail of the dock, he exclaimed, 'We are suffering from the British Empire.' Udham Singh continued more quietly. 'I am not afraid to die. I am proud to die, to have to free my native land and I hope that when I am gone, I hope that in my place will come thousands of my countrymen to drive you dirty dogs out; to free my country.'

'I am standing before an English jury. I am in an English court. You people go to India and when you come back you are given a prize and put in the House of Commons. We come to England and we are sentenced to death.'

'I never meant anything; but I will take it. I do not care anything about it, but when you dirty dogs come to India there comes a time when you will be cleaned out of India. All your British Imperialism will be smashed.'

'Machine guns on the streets of India mow down thousands of poor women and children wherever your so-called flag of democracy and Christianity flies.'

'Your conduct, your conduct - I am talking about the British government. I have nothing against the English people at all. I have more English friends living in England than I have in India. I have great sympathy with the workers of England. I am against the Imperialist Government.'
'You people are suffering - workers. Everyone are suffering through these dirty dogs; these mad beasts. India is only slavery. Killing, mutilating and destroying - British Imperialism. People do not read about it in the papers. We know what is going on in India.'

MR. JUSTICE ATKINSON: I am not going to hear any more.

UDHAM SINGH: You do not want to listen to any more because you are tired of my speech, eh? I have a lot to say yet.

THE JUDGE: I am not going to hear any more of that statement.

UDHAM SINGH: You ask me what I have to say. I am saying it. Because you people are dirty. You do not want to hear from us what you are doing in India.

Thrusting his glasses back into his pocket, Udham Singh exclaimed three words in Hindustani and then shouted, Down with British Imperialism! Down with British dirty dogs!'

As he turned to leave the dock, the accused spat across the solicitor's table.

After Singh had left the dock, the Judge turned to the Press and said:
'I give a direction to the Press not to report any of the statement made by the accused in the dock. You understand, members of the press?'

Rest in peace Udham Singh.

A random thought

What or who created the world, the universe ? Apparently our universe, comprising of an infinite number of galaxies and solar systems, is expanding....but what is the universe expanding into ? What is outside of the box ? What existed before the supposed Big Bang ? ...and don't say nothing...coz I ain't gonna believe ya.

Guess the film :)

We're off to see the Wizard,
The wonderful Wizard of Oz,
We hear he is a wiz of a wiz,
If ever a wiz there was.
If ever oh ever a wiz there was,
The Wizard of Oz is one because,
Because, because, because,
Because, because...
Because of the wonderful things he does!
We're off to see the Wizard,
The wonderful Wizard of Oz!

...I bet you're still wondering which from film that song was taken from... :-))

Is God dead ? (a statistical view)

So I was having a shower this morning, wondering why in Canada you can't seem to buy shower gel bottles with a built in plastic hook that you hang on the shower head, when I all of sudden I had a flashback to a philosophy tutorial I was once in many moons ago.

It occurred to me that the 19th century German philosopher, Nietzsche may have had a point when he stated that God is dead. His underlying premise was his idea of "life-affirmation," which involves an honest questioning of all doctrines which drain life’s energies, however socially prevalent those views might be. Nietzsche’s atheism was voiced in reaction to the conception of a single, ultimate, judgmental authority who is privy to everyone’s hidden, and personally embarrassing, secrets; his atheism also aimed to redirect people’s attention to their inherent freedom, the presently-existing world, and away from all escapist, pain-relieving, heavenly otherworlds.

However, the 17th century French philosopher, Blaise Pascal, formulated a wager in respect of God's existence. He reasoned that you might as well believe in God because if he did not exist you would lose nothing, whereas if he did exist, believing in him might earn you a place in heaven (or hell for non-believers). Expressed symbolically using decision theory we have:

If you prefer A (agnosticism) to B (existence of God), and prefer B (God) to C (eternal hell and damnation), then there is a gamble between A and C (A with probability p, C with probability 1- p, for some real-valued p) that you regard as equally desirable as B (existence of God) for sure. Therefore, you are better off believing in God than no God.

LOL - how was all that for arguing with myself ! :)

Review: Jo Bole So Nihaal

Watched 'Jo Bole So Nihal' (translation: Blessed are those who call out God's name) to see what the political fuss in India was all about. My conclusion ? Overall a mediocre film, with occasional funny (albeit stereotypical) situations about Jats and sardars. Even the casteist subtitle to the movie - "No if's...no buts...sirf Jat!" portrays the low expectations this movie radiates from the outset. The key to being able to watch this film, without flinching at some of pointlessly embarrassing scenes, is to not view this as some kind of social commentary on the Sikh diaspora, but as an inane Bollywood flick where the interweaving of comedy within the themes of family village honour, terrorism, New York fast life and vulgar sexual innuendo results in a poorly concocted mixture which disappoint viewers at either end of the religious-secular spectrum.

Sunny Deol stars as 'Nihal' a Punjab village policeman (or Jat cop if you like) who through a combination of improbable circumstances, is transported to New York to chase down the notorious Romeo - a paid hitman who has a habit of killing priests after confessing about his murderous activities the previous week. Nihal makes it clear from the outset that his primary motivation for tracking Romeo is to restore his honour amongst his fellow villagers who mistakenly suspect he colluded with allowing Romeo to escape after an encounter in some fields. The message is clear - you can rob, steal or murder - but don't ever insult a Sardar Jat - the price is too heavy to even think about. The rest is all too predictable - apparently appealing to the gracious Waheguru (God) and shouting the Sikh war cry of 'Jo Bole So Nihal' every 2 minutes, allows one to defeat all and sundry and get out of the tightest of corners.

As expected from such a 'quality' production, the main female characters are there to provide little more than a fleshfest. I won't even bother mentioning who they were, as these days upcoming Bollywood starlets who are willing to strip are dime a dozen these days. Some might find the scene of Nihal finishing his session of fornicating with the culturally lost FBI Agent Suzanne (aka Satinder Kaur) a bit much, and which provides no added value to the storyline except to add further ridicule to the film.

After watching this film, I believe it should have been re-named something else. To evoke such a sacred mantra of words, and associate it with a commercial production which has no spiritual or uplifting content whatsoever, is to do grave injustice to a faith which shed much blood in it's history so as to have the right to say 'Jo Bole So Nihal'.

Film rating: 4/10.

Insane or Insaan ?

Why do 'insane' and 'insaan' look and sound so similar ? Given that both words probably have their roots in the same Indo-Germanic family of languages, perhaps somebody is trying to tell us something ?? :)

Mid Year Resolutions

Today could the perfect day to turn over a new leaf, acquire a new skill and step forward to a bright new future. Apparently, May 18 is the ideal time of year to make that New Year resolution you would not have kept if you had made it on January 1.

Psychologists say good resolutions stand a better chance when the sun is in the ascendence and the feelgood factor is on the increase.

All the auguries fit the formula M x O + Bh (H+R) x S, where M is for motivation, O for opportunity, Bh for proximity to a bank/public holiday, H for the increasing hours of daylight, R for reflection time and S, naturally, for success. It all adds up to May 18, according to psychologist Cliff Arnall.

Mr Arnall's formula is in the great tradition of wacky science. Experts have, in recent years, formulated the equation behind the perfect biscuit for dunking in tea; manipulated the mathematics of the ideal fried potato chip; explored the ideal geometry for stone-skimming across a pond; calculated the relative flatness of pancakes and the plains of Kansas; and even the established the variables in the formula for the perfect joke.

But behind the merry math ematics of good resolution, there is a serious purpose.
Mr Arnall is a lecturer in the department of lifelong learning at Cardiff University. Earlier this year he calculated that New Year resolutions were a bad idea because New Year's Day marked a decline for most people, who reached a nadir on January 24 - his mathematical model candidate for the most depressing day of the year.

May 18, however, marked a moment of maximum opportunity.

"It is really about encouraging people, motivating people. In terms of nature, you've got renewal, trees, flowers, longer hours, increasing energy.

"This is a really good time to take an excellent decision to really boost your confidence," he said.
However, there is no body of scientific evidence to back up the theory. Mr Arnall said he derived his motivational formula after observing people attending his workshops on those intangible topics of success, happiness and stress. "I see this on a day to day basis, and the difference it can make to people's lives," he said.

"There is no doubt at all that for people who are making decisions because they want to - rather than because of an external reason such as January 1 - it makes better sense. They are ready to make the change because they want to."

2005 Uefa Cup Final

Uefa Cup Final Result:
Sporting Lisbon 1 CSKA Moscow 3.

It's good to see an East European side win a trophy. :)



CSKA Moscow's Uefa Cup victory will herald a new dawn in Russian football, says CSKA coach Valery Gazzayev. Thousands took to the streets in Moscow to celebrate the 3-1 win in Lisbon that sealed Russia's first European trophy.

"It's is a great achievement of Russian football," said Gazzayev, who believes it is also proof a Russian side could reach the Champions League final.

"I'm proud of my players, I'm proud of our fans and I'm proud of my country."

The country's prime minister Mikhail Fradkov also joined the celebratory mood saying: "I would like to congratulate the CSKA players and coaches along with all Russian football lovers for a historic win."

Boris Gryzlov, speaker of the lower house of parliament, even suggested that 18 May could forever now be known as "The Day of Russian Soccer."

"People will be going to stadiums and seeing the appearance of new soccer idols," he said.
Gazzayev said it was a "landmark" for Russian football.

"Now every child in Russian youth football schools will know what to work for and what to dream about and will know those dreams can become true," he said.

"This...will give the nation the belief to go on and win more things at both club and international level. I hope the next medal I pick up will be a Champions League one," he said.

Powered by a £29m sponsorship deal with Russian oil company Sibneft, of which Chelsea's billionaire owner Roman Abramovich is still the majority shareholder, CSKA only just failed to make it into the knockout rounds of this season's Champions League.

Having come through a second qualifying-round tie against Azerbaijan's Neftchi Baku in July, CSKA were paired with Porto, Chelsea and Paris St Germain.

A 3-1 win over the French side in their final game did not prove quite enough - Porto's last-gasp win over Chelsea putting the Portuguese side through and leaving CSKA to settle for a place in the last 32 of the Uefa Cup.

As a result, captain Sergei Semak left for Paris St Germain and Czech midfielder Jiri Jarosik joined Chelsea.

The team also had to cope with the departure of homesick Brazilian striker Vagner Love, though he later returned, and it was his goals, capped by the third against Sporting, that helped CSKA seal their Uefa Cup success.

Since the fall of the Soviet Union, Russian teams have endured lean times. The national side has never advanced past the first stage of the World Cup or European Championship, while club sides have continued a barren run in Europe.

But there are also signs the growing financial muscle of Russian clubs means they can attract top players. Last week Dynamo Moscow splashed out £14m ($25.7m) to sign Porto pair Maniche and Costinha, who joined their former team-mate Derlei in the Russian capital. Spartak paid £8.2m (12m euros) for talented young Argentine Fernando Cavenaghi and Lokomotiv brought home Russia striker Dmitri Sychev from Olympique Marseille.

Feeling blah !

I'm finding these days I am increasingly finding myself in situations where the disincentives exceed the incentives, and I don't have the energy nor the inclination to explore either people, places, thoughts or a combination of all three. Stimulatory ROIs appears negligible and negative net present values abound. Life is increasingly taking on a monochromatic tone, where sound appears to be pressed on Mute permanently, there is a disconnect between the subtitles and action taking place, and literally everything appears to happen in slow motion.

And when is summer going to show her head ?

On umbrellas and superpowers....

How can China attempt to harbour imperial ambitions of superseding the US as the next global economic superpower when they can't even make decent umbrellas ??? Three hours later, I'm just about dried out after my new 'Made in China' umbrella broke on me during a raining lunchtime trip, leaving me drenched and silently cursing every slanty eyed oriental I came across in downtown Toronto. I had only bought it this very morning from a Shoppers' Drug Mart store for $4.99 CAD, thinking - vah ! - what a world beating competitive price those Cheenay importers are doing. In future, I'll stick to paying triple price for something made on this side of the Pacific....

Desi lunch

Just around the corner from where I work there's an eating place I only recently discovered by accident. It's a Pak owned dhaba style restaurant frequented mainly by Toronto's desi taxi drivers (the number of parked taxis outside gives a clue to the clientele base). I'd been there once before with a work colleague to get a lunch take-out and so I didn't get much time to admire the salubrious surroundings. :)

Anyway, yesterday I was in the area on a lunchtime errand when I decided to step in again and go for a taste of home (albeit from the other side of the LOC - haha !). Step through the doors and it felt like I was in a different world. A hybrid mixture of Urdu/Punjabi was being spoken by customers and staff alike (all brown, all male, and 90% had a moustache). Framed photos adorned the walls of various Pak entertainment celebrities standing with the restaurant owner, there was a notice in English saying "Do not shout your order to kitchen staff. Please order here", and various other signs in that squiggly undecipherable right to left writing you folks are so fond of... :-)). And to top it all, there was this gigantic king kong sized large screen TV which appeared to be precariously suspended in mid-air playing a series of copied Punjabi/Bollywood video songs with what looked liked, (if memory serves me right of Lollywood movies), of an older looking white faced Reema running around on stage as if her feet were on fire.....

Looking at the food on display and it was a case of meat, meat, meat, veg, meat, meat, veg, rice and so on. I ordered and sat by the only vacant table. Either side of me, animated discussions were taking place. To the right were a group of men talking in Punjabi about the Liberal government and how they should lose the next election because of the gay marriage issue. To the left appeared to be mournful looking desi talking in Urdu to his pal about what seemed to be his marriage problems. From what I could gather, his begum appeared to be a bit of a dragon. Oh well...

Twenty minutes later, I was outside in the bright sunshine heading back to the anglo-saxon corporate world. But I'm sure I'll be back again soon.... :))

Mother's Day

Yesterday it was Mother's Day (well in Canada anyway, in the UK it happens earlier). It occurred to me as I was watching the tv advertisements for Florists and un-subtle reminders of this 'special' consumer day, that parenthood appears to be happening later and later in many people's lives here in the West. Part of it is undoubtedly to do with the transition from an industrial to a knowledge-based economy, with a greater emphasis on an educated workforce meaning more years having to be spent in higher education etc. Scanning the job adverts in local papers, nowadays it appears one needs a university degree as a pre-requiste before even consider applying for entry level clerical positions. Many individuals do not enter the job market until their mid-20s, and therefore would not be in position to entertain thoughts of marriage (and subsequent parenthood) until much later.

The second part is more cultural. We have a whole generation that has grown up on a diet of American cultural media products such as 'Sex and the City' and 'Friends' (or 'Coupling' - the UK product - just to keep things balanced :) ), where the focus is at the atomic individualistic level, where it's all about (in varying degrees) hedonism, about instant gratification, about lonely pathetic individuals trying vainly to seek 'fulfillment' on a bleak urban landscape who equate sex with love, and love with shopping. It's all about the ubiquitous 'finding yourself' - which you can explain to your 30-something superficial dinner party friends, who no doubt will rejoice in this affirmation of being 'independent' (and childless) urban white collar warriors....

Carrying on this theme of 'finding yourself' last week I had a conversation with a gora work colleague who is 35, about his girlfriend (of same age) who was expecting their first child. After congratulating him on his impending fatherhood, he mentioned they had decided to wait because a) they wanted to be sure that they liked each other (after living with each other for 9 years) b) wanted to go on holidays 2 or 3 times a year and c) now they were sure, and next year they could get married....

..I did some quick mental arithmetic afterwards. If his future offspring adopted the same attitude as him, got married at 35, and say decided to wait a couple of years to have first child(37 years), he would be like, 74 years old when he becomes a grandparent...wow - what a thought.

Addendum:

LOL...I'm not quite sure what the point of my post was. I probably sound like some fundamentalist mullah (complete with obligatory henna dyed beard), or some puppet of new Pope Benedict drumming the beat for 'family values' etc. I don't know why I wrote all of the above...I think I'm becoming mentally unstable.... :)

Milkha Singh - the Flying Sikh

For the man who won 77 of the 80 races he ran, Milkha Singh has no medals. It has been some years that 'The Flying Sikh' donated his sporting treasures to the nation. No personal souvenirs line his living room walls, no trophies sit on the mantle. Instead, the walls make do with pictures of the surgeon in America who saved his wife's life and Havildar Bikram Singh, a Kargil martyr.
"I have given permission that my medals be transferred from the Jawaharlal Nehru stadium in New Delhi to the sports museum in Patiala," says the 72-year-old Singh. Strangely, the stadium gallery lined with many of India's sporting talent does not have a single picture of Milkha Singh. In a country where great sportspersons are few and far between, India has a strange way of honouring its stars.

Milkha Singh's achievements can do without such testimony. "The people of this country remember me. I may have started dyeing my beard but I am recognised at airports, railway stations -- anywhere. School textbooks have chapters on me, and somehow the sobriquet 'The Flying Sikh' has endured in people's memory," he says



Singh, however, has no complaints about the recognition given to him by the government. A Padma Shri winner, the legendary athlete who started his career on a Rs 10 wage went on to become director, sports, ministry of education in the Punjab government. "I have received more than I deserved."

It was a hard uphill climb for the refugee from Muzaffargarh in west Pakistan. The Partition massacres of 1947 took the lives of his parents and Singh was rejected by the army thrice. He subsequently enrolled in the army's electrical mechanical engineering branch in 1952 when his brother Malkhan Singh put in a word for him, and experienced his first sport outing at its athletics meet a fortnight later.

"That was the first time I saw a ground bedecked with flags," reminisces Singh. "I later participated in a crosscountry race with 300 to 400 jawans. And sat down after the first half mile before starting again -- that was my first race."

Determined to be the best and realising his talent as a sprinter, the jawan took to training five hours every day. Motivated by his coach Havildar Gurdev Singh, he left it to the elements to hone his craft -- running on the hills, the sands of the Yamuna river, and against the speed of a metre gauge train. He says so intense was his training that very often he vomitted blood and would collapse in exhaustion.

Every morning Milkha Singh still goes for a jog by the Sukhna lake in Chandigarh. Most afternoons are spent playing golf and he uses the gym in his house regularly. "Discipline. You have to be disciplined if you want to be world class," he says, "That's what I tell my son Jeev. I give him the example of Tiger Woods, and hope he would bring the medal I couldn't."
Jeev Milkha Singh, India's best golfer, was recently awarded the Arjuna Award and is striving to make a mark on the international golf circuit. Whether he does manage to bring the sporting glory that eluded his father, is yet to be seen. Till then, it is a disappointment that Milkha Singh will never forget. Forty years on, that failure in Rome still haunts him.

After clocking a world record 45.8 seconds in one of the 400 metres preliminaries in France, Milkha Singh finished fourth in a photofinish in the Olympics final. The favourite for gold had missed the bronze. By a fraction...



"Since it was a photofinish, the announcements were held up. The suspense was excruciating. I knew what my fatal error was: After running perilously fast in lane five, I slowed down at 250 metres. I could not cover the lost ground after that -- and that cost me the race."

"After the death of my parents, that is my worst memory," says Singh, "I kept crying for days." Dejected by his defeat, he made up his mind to give up sport. It was after much persuasion that he took to athletics again. Two years later, Milkha Singh won two medals at the 1962 Asian Games. But by then his golden period was over.

It was between 1958 and 1960 that Milkha Singh saw the height of glory. From setting a new record in the 200 and 400 metres at the Cuttack National Games, he won two gold medals at the Asian Games at Tokyo. The lean Sikh went on to win gold at the Commonwealth Games in Cardiff, and was awarded the Helms trophy or being the best athlete in 1959.

Three years before the Indo-Pak war of 1965, Milkha Singh ran that one race which made President Ayub Khan christen him 'The Flying Sikh.' His defeat of Pakistan's leading athlete and winner of the 100 metres gold at the Tokyo Asiad, Abdul Khaliq, earned him India's bestknown sports sobriquet. "It has stuck since," he adds.

Thirtysix years later, Britain's Ann Packer remembers him too. This time for his camaraderie. Jittery about her performance in the 800 metres against formidable French German and Hungarian athletes in the Tokyo Olympics in 1964, Packer clearly remembered her encounter with Singh in the lift they shared on the day of her event. 'Ann you vill win,' she recounted Singh's words to a The Sunday Times journalist at her home in Cheshire recently.

And vin she did. Packer clocked 2min 1.1 sec and set a new world record. Singh was among the first to congratulate her.

There are many who still congratulate Milkha Singh. "Sirji, I remember seeing you when I was a young recruit in the army," said Gairwar Singh as he chanced upon the former athlete getting into his car outside the Chandigarh Golf Club. Elated that Singh stops to shake hands with him, Gairwar Singh -- now a driver with a transport company in Delhi -- tells him about his interest in wrestling.

"It is appreciation from the people that helps me go ahead at this age," Singh had earlier said at his home in Sector 8. With two of his daughters married and one away in the United States, and his son travelling around the world regularly -- Singh says he enjoys the tranquility. Last year, he adopted the seven-year-old son of Havildar Bikram Singh who died in the Battle for Tiger Hill. The child is at a boarding school and Singh has taken on the responsibility of bringing him up.

"We owe it to those who have died for the honour of our country," he says, "Unlike our cricketers who have sold our country." Deeply disappointed with these ambassadors of India's most popular game, he firmly believes the guilty should be punished. "They cannot mock the aspirations of an entire nation," says Singh surveying the debris of many a fallen sporting icon.
Decades after he hung up his running shoes, one thing is for sure -- the Flying Sikh still stands tall.

******************************
Jeev Milkha Singh on his father:

Whenever I look at Milkha Singh, I see a dedicated and determined human being. He enforced strict discipline in me in particular and was very tough at times.

He wanted me to become a better golfer. There is no way I can match him in any manner. I have always looked up to him for what he has done for the country. He is a great motivator and if anyone takes his advice he is bound to excel in life.

I was not even born when he quit running. This is my biggest misfortune. Of course, I have seen him jogging on the golf course to warm up before a game. I have watched some of the documentaries made on him and I am really impressed. It was nice to see him in action. To realise that 'The Flying Sikh' is none else than my father. I wish I had seen him participate in a competitive race in a stadium though, than see him on film.

I was 11 when I went to boarding school in Shimla. I had hardly entered my classroom when I heard a boy telling another boy that I was Milkha Singh's son. When I heard this, I realised my father was a big name in Indian sport. Till then it had never ever dawned on me that he is a legend.

He is a frank human being, a no-nonsense man, who does not take no for an answer. At 72, he still has the same drive. When I play golf with him, he wants to beat me. The zeal to be better than his opponent is still there. Like great athletes he believes there is nothing in the world you cannot achieve provided you have the will to do so.

If I were asked to list five of his great qualities, I would say he is honest, focussed and knows his goals. He has the determination to achieve his goals and has great motivation skills. Even an ordinary player can be moulded into a good one under his guidance. Last, but not least, he is a very disciplined human being.

He says if you have achieved one goal, then you should set your eyes on higher goals and continue your drive to do better and better. "If you have become the best in Asia, then you should try to be the best in the world" is what he tells me all the time.

He wanted me to become an athlete. But I wanted to play golf like he did after giving up athletics. He told me he had nothing against my playing golf. But he told me, "Son it is no use playing golf if you are not going to be the best. Whatever game you may play, you have to prove that nobody can beat you." When I am not doing well, he encourages me to do well. He has been a great source of inspiration.

But even Milkha Singh has his regret. Even now, he cannot forget the 400 metres at the Rome Olympics where he finished fourth in one of the most competitive races -- all four runners broke the world record and finished the race in four minutes. He is going to die with this regret at the back of his mind. Sometimes he becomes very emotional about this.

Milkha Singh is born once in many generations. I am lucky to have been born in his family and watch him from close quarters as his son.

Sinbad was my first 'desi' hero

Who remembers the Sinbad films ? There were 3 of them - the 7th Voyage, Golden Voyage and Eye of the Tiger which were all released at the cinema.

Growing up as a child in the 1970s in England, there was very little by way of role models in the popular media for a south asian kid to look upto. We hadn't yet made an impact in mainstream British culture, the National Front was creating trouble in Southall, many of our parents worked overtime, and we were trying to establish a succesful foundation for ourselves.

And then came along the Sinbad movies from of all places - Hollywood. Okay - so the stories were set in the Arabian gulf, but this tough guy in his beard and turban, wielding his curved scimitar against villains and monsters alike, represented a lot for an impressionable 8 year old kid of Indian Sikh immigrant parents. The men who fought alongside him looked the same shade of brown as me, the buildings had more than a passing architectural resemblance to a gurdwara or mosque, and the olive complexion of the alluring veiled women looked a refreshing contrast to the anaemic pasty white faces I was used to seeing.

Status of Punjabi in Pakistan

As an outsider, this makes for interesting reading...

The politics of language in Pakistan
Punjabi yet to get due status, despite struggle
by Nirupama Dutt (The Chandigarh Tribune)

A recent literary column in The Dawn, the leading paper of Pakistan, by Mushir Anwar has caused ripples in the Punjabi literary and intellectual circles in Punjab for it once again defends the imposition of Urdu as the official language of Punjab. In response to the very provocative statement made by Anwar — "Punjabi is an undeveloped form of Urdu" — Maqsood Saqib, editor of Pancham, a Punjabi monthly published in Pakistan, argued in a letter to the editor responding to the column. The letter titled 'Punjabi is Punjab's mother tongue', Saqib says, tongue in cheek, that if Urdu is being described as the language of the people of Punjab, then by that logic it may soon also be called the language of Japan!

Saying that Urdu should be seen as the federal language of Pakistan, linking the Baluchis, Sindhis, Pathans and Punjabis, Saqib goes on to say that it should not be thrust upon the Punjabis. He further adds: "The demand for the Punjabi language as a medium of instruction in Punjab is as old as the birth of Pakistan and it is not a new thing for all of us. We should all endorse this demand, as the dropout rate of school-going children in Punjab is very high. One of the factors of this deplorable situation is that children are denied their basic human right to read and write in their mother language." However, the newspaper did not carry this letter as the politics of language in Pakistan is biased in favour of the Urdu language. Circulating this letter online, Saqib says: "I wrote this letter in response to that column but the paper has not carried it. The reasons for this are all too obvious."

When Saqib says that the struggle for getting Punjabi its due status in Punjab is as old as the birth of Pakistan, it is not an exaggeration. And the situation today is not happy for a language that is the mother tongue of the majority of the people in Pakistan. As the census figures go Punjabi (including Saraiki, Hindko and other varying dialects) is the "commonly spoken in household" language of 60.43 per cent Pakistanis, followed by Pushto for 13.4 per cent, Sindhi for 11.7 per cent, Urdu for 7.60 per cent and Baluchi for 3.02 per cent. In spite of this Punjabi has no official status either in Pakistan or in West Punjab. The medium of instruction in the schools in West Punjab is Urdu, and to a lesser extent English. A study conducted in 2001 shows that there is not a single Punjabi medium school in the country. On the other hand there are 36, 750 Sindhi medium schools in Sindh and 10,731 Pushto schools in the North-West Frontier Province.

While the people of East Punjab in India too have had to struggle for getting Punjabi its due official status, the situation has never been so bad. This so especially because of the Sikh Punjabis whose sacred text, Guru Granth Sahib, is in Punjabi in the Gurmukhi script.
If we are to study this phenomenon in the context here to East Punjab, Punjabi was often seen as the poor rustic cousin of Urdu and Hindi. Punjabi parents often speak to their children in Hindi and that is often the peer-group language. To some extent the Sikh identity has been able to reverse trends. In Punjab we find people choosing to speak in English and Punjabi and rejecting Hindi. However, the Punjabis living in metropolis, by and large still suffer from low self-esteem as far as their lingual identity goes.

However, it is heartening to meet a group of committed writers, artists, teachers and other intellectuals who have been working ceaselessly as language activists. In the forefront is the name of a senior poet-playwright of Punjabi called Syed Najm Hosain, who was the founder head of the Department of Punjabi in Punjab University at Lahore. Every Friday there is a Sangat held in his home on The Mall in Lahore and the practice has been going on for three decades. Writers, painters and others get together to read and sing Sufi poetry as well as the verses of the Sikh Gurus. Many of them have learnt the Gurmukhi script to bridge the Shahmukhi-Gurmukhi gap between West Punjab and East Punjab. For Shahmukhi is the name for the Persian script used to write Punjabi in Pakistan.

Zubair Ahmad, a Punjabi writer who also takes care of the Kitab Trinjan Trust that publishes books in Punjabi, says: " Punjabi language has never been encouraged by the media and the establishment but the writers have done their bit and are still doing it. We have had fine poets like Munir Niazi and Ustad Daman. Ustad Daman was a true product of the oral, a poet of baaghs (gardens). Put behind bars by all rulers for reciting his poetry in public places, his only book was published posthumously by his friends and pupils."

Punjabi fiction has some prominent names like Mansha Yaad, Fakhar Zaman of the World Punjabi Conferences fame, Anwar Ali and Ahmed Salim. And now Saqib has taken the lead and started printing books in Gurmukhi too.

The struggle for getting the mother tongue its due has been a long one and still very little has been achieved for there are forces that will even shy away from publishing a letter to the editor in favour of Punjabi. So when Eric Cyprrian, a Pakistani communist leader and an early language activist in Pakistan called Punjabis in Pakistan, 'A people without a language' he was making a scathing comment on the establishment. Otherwise, Punjabi continues to be in vigorous use in homes, bazaars, teahouses, mazaars of the Sufi poets and saints as well as the streets. When will the Pakistani officialdom wake up to this reality?

PSV Eindhoven 3 AC Milan 1

UEFA Champions League semi-final:



What an amazing game last night. PSV totally out-played and out-passed Milan, who seem unsure whether to attack or defend after their previous 2-0 lead from the first leg. Never seen PSV play before, but they can now me consider a fan of their style of play. It's a shame that they lost on the away goals rule, but to score 3 goals against one of meanest defences in Europe is no bad achievement.

Final: Liverpool v AC Milan (May 25th, Istanbul)

The illusion of platonic relationships

Why do people keep going on about the 'beauty' of platonic relationships ?? They should see it what is it really is - a mirage, maya, an illusion. And the worst part is when a friend of the opposite sex who persists in this charade start playing mind games and transgresses your personal boundaries - and then wonder why you've suddenly cut them off...

There is no such thing as a pure platonic relationship. Logically that would require both participants in the boy meet girl scenario to be at the exact same microscopic level of detached emotional /mental understanding. There will always be an inbalance or deficit between the two friends' levels of expectation. One person is bound to want more than the other - each one of us has a subconscious unwritten agenda, yes ? Our forefathers understood this concept centuries ago, and set demarcation lines regarding the level of casual interaction between the sexes.

Many of the so-called "platonic" relationships still carry on because there is an unwritten promise of a potential for something else to happen. One (or both) parties are happy for the charade to continue, because at some point in the future, there is the chance to be able to cash in on their investment in the friendship, and convert it into a romance, or at least a friendship with a sexual benefits package attached.

Hence a more apt term would be 'controlled relationship' as opposed to 'platonic'. Proceed with caution... :-)

SM
[Originally written in April 2004]

Under Another Sky

I wrote this back in March 2005:



Very shortly it will be my 5th anniversary of landing on Canadian soil. Five years ! I just can't believe how quickly time has flown by. Feels like only yesterday I was at Toronto's Pearson International Airport on a wintery day, waiting in line to have my landing papers scrutinized by an Immigration officer. Looking around the terminal I was surprised as to how many other new immigrant arrivals were here in the big country for the first time...each carrying their dreams and hopes of a new better life. Many people have different reasons for changing lands...some reasons are economic, others are emotional. I will not talk about my reasons, suffice to say that having accepted the challenge, the day I posted the application papers - than that became my Mount Everest, my aim, my peak to climb.....



On each anniversary of arriving in Canada, I open up a new page in my diary and write how I feel. This is what I wrote in 2001, one year after landing in my new country:

On the experience of emigrating...

As I live out my daily existence here in this urban landscape somewhere in Ontario, trying unsuccessfully to perfect my new North American accent (ie. putting a double 'R' sound into every word I say) and having to remember to drive on the other side, I sometimes get hit by waves of nostalgia for the shores I left behind. One misses the sights and sounds of a world that was so familiar, so intimately entwined in one's consciousness from birth to adulthood.

Changing countries definitely alters your perspectives on life. Initially, you judge everything by reference to the social and cultural benchmarks of your previous existence. Consequently, some things appear better, others worse. Some are more prepared for the initial disorientation, others less so. Personally, I've tried to alter my own mental parameters - the levels of expectation I assume from daily activities. Sometimes it helps to just "go with the flow", even if that flow appears to be edging towards a waterfall. I no longer ascribe value judgements to my new country's method of doing things....I just observe and try to understand....

Somebody once said something like "to discover new worlds you need to lose sight of the shore". This and other such profound statements I occasionally come across, help to rationalize and provide a positive insight to my own and others' reasons for being here.

Well, I'm starting to understand Canadian humour (I barely twitched a facial muscle in my first six months), and no longer mind getting tailgated at 120 kph - so things are definitely looking up....

Review: Step Across This Line (Salman Rushdie)

This is an amazing book. I've read and re-read this countless times. Okay - so I find Rushdie a touch arrogrant and lardy-da pretentious when I see his interviews on TV, but giving credit where it's due, this collection of non-fiction essays and personal reflections is the best collection of essays I have read to date from any author.

On the subject of the fatwa, Rushdie in an essay dated Feb 1999 writes: "Yes, all right, on February 14 it will be ten years since I received my unfunny Valentine." He describes the conflict between wanting to continue to his love of writing literature, and yet having to defend his right to live in the face of bigotry and ignorance.

Rushdie writes on a wide variety of subjects. His observations on that classic film 'The Wizard of Oz' with it's subliminal messages are sheer brilliance and extremely funny at times. On the creator of Oz: "Frank Baum did not make up the ruby slippers. He called them Silver Shoes. Baum believed that America's stability required a switch from the gold to the silver standard, and the shoes were a metaphor of the magical advantages of Silver". However, in later script changes, the shoes were changed from silver to ruby because the film was going to be produced in colour.

In other essays, he writes of his love for football (soccer), the political challenges of adapting Midnight's Children for television, the 9/11 attacks, the bible bigots who enforce the teaching of creationism in American mid-west schools, and the contrasting prospects for progress and modernity between India and Pakistan.

An excellent read. 9/10.

Review: 'Oryx and Crake' (Margaret Atwood)

Good book !

Set in a dystopian apocalyptic future, the novel revolved around a character called Snowman, who finds himself to be the last human alive on an Earth devastated by a man-made plague. Much of the novel takes on the form of a flashback narrative, as Snowman recounts the horrifying events that led to the apocalypse. What the book may lack in terms of technical hard core sci-fi setting, it more than makes up with it's dissection and probing of the human spirit through adversity.

The politician inside all of us

Slowly it is starting to dawn on me as to how politicized some inter-personal/social relationships actually are. By that I mean to say, it becomes obvious that over a period of time, that the actions (note: watch what they do, not what they say - no matter how charitable the sentiments) of any one person or persons are consistent with following an agenda which, like some classic textbook exposition of game theory, results in either a positive or negative outcome for either player. Like the dodo, in the desi universe it would appear that the affirmative win-win situation is well and truly extinct.

Unfortunately, life being what it is - about making choices, making decisions - means that invariably each one of us may run into opinions (usually vocally intransigent) which run counter to our proposed actions. Those who walk into this with their eyes closed, remaining in their comfort zone and unwilling to stand their ground are likely to remain a chamcha/serf to others for the rest of their lives. Conversely, the initial pain of conflict may prove to be a cathartic liberating experience for those who stand by their decisions. In this sense, I often think back to a quote attributed to Cato who wrote "Some men are better served by their bitter-tongued enemies than by their sweet-smiling friends; because the former often tell the truth; the latter, never."

I wish you all well in your political careers.... :)

Labour exploitation

Last night whilst channel surfing I caught the beginning of a documentary 'El Contrato' on TVO about Mexican migrant farm workers who work in Leamington, Ontario. It was a bit of an eye opener watching their lives, away from their families 8 months of the year, working 7 days a week at mimimal wages and abused/exploited on a daily basis by the farm owners and supervisors.

http://www.justicia4migrantworkers.org

Are you complaing about our cooking ?

Candle in the dark

There is something powerfully mesmerizing in seeing an image of a solitary burning candle in the dark. It stands for hope where despair abounds, knowledge in a sea of ignorance, and the courage to believe in one's convictions...

Of books, bookshelves and creaking hardwood floors....

At lunchtime today I was browsing in one of favourite bookshops, 'Nicholas Hoare', located on Front Street in downtown Toronto. Despite its location, step through it's doors and you feel you're in an oasis of serene calmness complete with a quaint wooden decor reminiscent of an old English library, with scholarly looking assistants on call. I've spent an occasional rainy afternoon in there just wandering....however it was sunny today - so no such excuses....

It has an interesting and varied collection of books not readily found in the larger bookstores, with many works imported from the UK. Today I couldn't decide what I wanted so I just browsed and flitted from the History section to Biographies to Popular Science, ending up reading a few lines from a book about flags of the world. Next time I'm there though, I might buy Gabriel Garcia Marquez's 'One Hundred Years of Solitude'.....the title and the cover intrigue me and he appears to write in a dreamy, surreal style.

Racial stereotypes zindabad...

I have come to the conclusion that Chinese drivers are the worst on this planet. Two days running I have seen incidents here in downtown Toronto involving Chinese car drivers who have nearly hit pedestrians crossing the road. Can they not see through their elongated eye slits ? If it's not Chinese exported SARS or Avian bird flu that will kill you, their drivers certainly will.

ps. I have no time for any politically correct crap. Live with it amigos.

Ever feel like you're being overworked ?

On Music

Is losing interest in music the first sign of ageing ? Even worse then showing the odd grey hair ?

Nothing appeals to my aural senses anymore....my CD collection - a ragbag eclectic mixture of Euro, bhangra, and filmi has lost its shine. Browsing in music shops - gora or desi - nowadays appears to be an empty gesture. The music is all the same in one way or another - mass produced tuneless cat-wailing....even so called 'radical' artists are legally owned by a group of suits somewhere.

I think I shall take up whistling instead....

On the Yellow Peril

This morning I expect some poor souls had car problems, traffic problems, maybe even money problems - but I had to have a banana problem....

Have you ever tried to peel a banana that was so green, so unripe, that when you stripped away the outer peel there was a still an inner peel stubbornly clinging on for dear life ? And to compound matters, as you attempt to perform what looks like open heart surgery on the intransigent banana in the office, an office colleague walks by and mockingly asks "Do you need a hand ?".

Let's see what the rest of day has in store for me...

The dying art of conversation ?

Why chattering classes have nothing to say.

Amelia Hill, education correspondent
Sunday February 20, 2005
The Observer

The art of conversation is dead but the artistry of chatter is thriving, with Britons overwhelmingly admitting they rarely talk about anything more serious than traffic and television. According to a survey of more than 2,000 adults, almost two-thirds of us admit to indulging in shallow chit-chat at the expense of weighty dialogue - even though we secretly long for more meaningful exchanges.

'Brits have lost the skill of conversation,' said Ronald Carter, conversation expert and professor of English Language at Nottingham University. 'Considered communication has been the first casualty of our rushed, modern lives.

'We can't exchange thoughts and opinions reflectively when we're in a hurry and so we resort to banal banter,' said Carter, who has published more than 20 books and 100 papers on different aspects of spoken language.

'We have got used to chatter and have stopped making the effort to reach any more significant conversational depth.' The survey, by Telewest Broadband, found that despite the cultural stereotype, the British weather is no longer regarded as an acceptable topic of small talk. Instead, we prefer talking about last night's TV, office gossip and traffic. Carter believes that considered opinions are the first casualty of an excess of small talk.

'Too much chatter means we keep our real thoughts to ourselves,' he said. 'We risk becoming rigid and thoughtless in our opinions,' he added. But Dr Jonathan Miller, the neuroscience researcher, TV presenter and author, disagrees. 'Conversation is not an art and anyway, big conversation bores me,' he said. 'Turn-taking in conversation is the important thing. I'm interested in how people watch each other when they are conversing, how they respond to various topics, rather than what those topics are.'

Lemn Sissay, named as one of the 50 key black British writers, fetes small talk: 'Talking about traffic and patio doors is the Western Buddhist mantra,' he said. It's a way we can find inner peace in today's society. Small talk can give away so much more about people, and be much more fascinating than big talk. I truly respect those who can sit around and discuss patio doors for half an hour and get something out of it.'

The survey also found that more than two-thirds of people believe the telephone is the best way to have intelligent conversations, although Ned Sherrin, presenter of Loose Ends , the Radio 4 comedy show, a lexicographer and author of 20 books, admits hating the telephone. 'I would rather see the contours of their face, the clouds and the flicker of their tears. I find the telephone irritating and unsatisfactory, and like to get them over with as quickly as possible,' he said.

Soviets in Afghanistan

On this day 16 years ago... (15 Feb 1989)

Last Soviet troops leave Afghanistan

Liz Thurgood and Jonathan Steele in Kabul
Thursday February 16, 1989
The Guardian

As the last Soviet soldier marched out of Afghanistan yesterday, apparently wiping away tears, Pravda said in Moscow that in future decisions to send troops abroad should not be taken by a small conclave but by the Soviet Parliament. Nine years and seven weeks of Kremlin military involvement ended five minutes before noon, when the Soviet forces commander, Lieutenant-General Boris Grosmov, walked across 'Friendship Bridge' linking the Afghan border town of Hayratan with Termez, in the Soviet Union.

Hours afterwards, the Kremlin appealed for an immediate ceasefire and an end to arms shipments by all countries. The statement said that the withdrawal of Soviet troops under last April's Geneva accords could provide a basis for restoring peace in Afghanistan.

But the absence of Soviet troops could now touch off a bloodbath between the two heavily-armed Afghan sides, poised for a decisive struggle.

The Afghan government confirmed its fear of a bloody struggle yesterday by revealing that it had considered asking Moscow to halt the withdrawal of Soviet troops.

The government said it would have been entitled to ask them to stay. It accused the United States of not only failing to end its support of the Mojahedin operations out of Pakistan, but said that Washington had actually increased 'the quantity and sophistication of weapons being sent across the border'.

This amounted to 'a brutal trampling underfoot' of the agreements signed in Geneva.

Kabul was quiet yesterday, with no new rebel rocket attacks after the ones which killed five people on Tuesday. People showed no signs either of panic or jubilation as the decade-long Soviet intervention came to an end.

It was a day of quiet, but without the peace which many Afghans a few months ago had almost miraculously expected to see by now.

The government sought to appeal for international support by saying its position had 'enhanced the UN's authority, which Pakistan and the US were undermining'. It also poured scorn on the shura (gathering) which is still limping along in Islamabad, saying that 'the real forces inside Afghanistan were not represented'.

In Islamabad, Afghan rebels said an interim government for their country was presented for approval on Wednesday to the shura. Mr Abdurrab Rasul Sayyaf, spokesman for the shura, said the proposed government would be headed by the US-educated engineer, Mr Ahmad Shah, a fundamentalist Muslim. Mr Sayyaf said that a new list would be drawn up if the shura rejected the proposed cabinet.

Kabul accused Pakistan of trying to annex Afghanistan under the aegis of a Pakistan-Afghan confederation, and described as 'ominous' Islamabad's purported decision to send armed forces into Afghanistan to aid the Mojahedin.

Afghanistan would take all necessary defensive measures, based on the UN Charter and the Soviet-Afghan treaty. this may have been a hint of requests for air strikes from Soviet territory on rebel concentrations.

General Gromov was the last of some 103,000 Soviet troops to be withdrawn.

Asked what he felt as he walked the last few steps on to Soviet territory, he replied: 'Joy, that we carried out our duty and came home. I did not look back.

'The day that millions of Soviet people have waited for has come,' General Gromov told an army rally afterwards. 'In spite of our sacrifices and losses, we have fulfilled our internationalist duty totally.'

The Soldier

The Soldier
by Rupert Brooke (1887-1915)

If I should die, think only this of me:
That there's some corner of a foreign field
That is forever England.
There shall be
In that rich earth a richer dust concealed;
A dust whom England bore, shaped, made aware,
Gave, once, her flowers to love, her ways to roam;
A body of England's, breathing English air,
Washed by the rivers, blest by suns of home.
And think, this heart, all evil shed away,
A pulse in the eternal mind, no less
Gives somewhere back the thoughts by England given;
Her sights and sounds; dreams happy as her day;
And laughter, learnt of friends; and gentleness,
In hearts at peace, under an English heaven.

Just had the most boring lunch ever..

...ever been so bored you could shed tears ?? Yep, happened to me today. Met up with a couple of insular academically inclined acquaintances. Of the 90 mins or so, 85 mins were spent with me listening to them talk about the structure and semantics of south asian diasporic literature in the 20th century, followed by a listing of the top 5 desi uni lecturers in cultural anthropology in north America...

...just wanna go home now and get drunk Devdas style. Man, after my experience today, I'm glad I have some Punjabi truck driver friends to do some serious peg-shegging with..just a shame they're probably all out somewhere in the United Snakes of America battling snow and ice on their way back...or maybe they're having a glassy or two at some rest stop.. :)

Review: Book of Dead Days

Recently finished reading this dark gothic fantasy novel by British writer Marcus Sedgwick.

The summary of the book starts off as:

"The days between Christmas and New Year's Eve are the dead days, when spirits roam and magic shifts restlessly beneath the surface of our lives. A lot can happen in the dead days."

Set in a fictitious city in winter, which seems forever beset by frozen snow, a magician seeks to escape a contract he made with the Devil years ago in return for his life. He enlists the help of a couple of young beggar children to seek a legendary book which apparently has supernatural powers to ward off the demonic spirits pursuing him.

The book is well written and very atmospheric. You can almost feel the bone chilling sub-zero temperatures and the crunch of the snow as they nervously explore various graveyards and deserted buildings in search of the Book.

I give it 8 out of 10.

Is breaking up hard to do ?

This is a public information announcement for all you lovesick Bloggers ! Judging by the number of poems you guys post in your blogs there seems like a fair few of you out there.... (LOL)

This relationship break up formula will now be discussed at length:

Frequency of interaction x Geographic proximity to each other x Emotional investment = difficulty/ease of closure.

Or

FI x GP x EI

Professor Spheric now proceeds to put on a white coat (and white hair wig) and adopt an Einsteinesque persona whilst narrating in a Bavarian-Hannoverian accent:

I vill explain zee formulaic variables above as such. In each case 1 represents the highest difficulty of closure and zero being the easiest:

Frequency of interaction = This is zee the number of times two courting individuals have seen each other in a specified period of time. If you see each other above a certain number of times, then psychologically it starts becomes a part of your personal time schedule. Zee higher the frequency, zee harder it is to break off.

Geographic proximity = Never a truer adage spoken than out of sight out of mind. It is much harder to get closure if two ppl are living very close to each other, as zee probability increases of bumping into each other.

Emotional investment = how much did you invest in that person during the period of the relationship ? If you were relatively independent of each other, and your daily thought processes were not coloured by the presence of that significant other, then it vill be easier to seek closure. If on the hand you could not make a decision without that person and your social status and acceptability was linked to that person, then it vill be harder.

Thus, in the example of a very close couple who have been with each other a long time and live near each other it vill look something like:

0.9 x 0.9 x 0.9 = 0.729 - high difficulty of closure - you will cry and spend all day listening to the catwailing of Naseebo Lal.

For a casual couple it may look something like:

0.6 x 0.7 x 0.4 = 0.168 - easy to get closure...time to open that bottle of Captain Morgan and mark another notch on that bedpost. :)

You have to assign your subjective variable values in zee formula based on how you perceive the relationship.

In true Looney Tunes Bugs Bunny tradition "That's all folks !" ...cue music...

Women & Politics

Days of the Turban

The following excerpt is from one of my favourite novels. Sadly it is out of print, and I bought my copy from a second hand bookshop in Gloucester, England back in 1994.

"The bus will take you there. Now. But before it was wild. Desolate. The backyard of Punjab. Here, in my village, the men carry guns and anger easily between their quotidian farming chores.

These are the men of the far North born out of the forerunners and morass of all civilizations that attacked India through the Himalayan passes. These are the men born out of and into the war.

They carry their bloodshed lightly between jokes and daily lawful living. They are men and women of the earth, as basic as that - as quick to yield harvests of kindness and goodness, as quick to dry up and turn sullen and destroy. These are my people".

From "Days of The Turban - A Novel" (by Partap Sharma)

The lost art of the handwritten note

When was the last time you ever received a handwritten note ? (And no, I don't mean one of those yellow Post-It with somebody's scribbles either). When was the last time you ever wrote a letter using a pen, or received one ?

It struck me the other day that we live in an age of de-humanized communications, where the medium reflects little about the person. We have the ubiquitous QWERTY keyboard at our fingertips, email and its many variants such as MSN Messenger, we have mobile phones, pagers and wireless PDA devices, we have Microsoft Word attachments, we can insert smiley icons, and we have fax and video-conferencing. Yes I agree, it's so very convenient and almost effortless to use what current technology has to offer, but have we lost something in the process ?

When I think of friends and family, both past and present, of passing acquaintances and strangers, I am struck by the fact that I hardly read anything by them that was actually handwritten....I kind of view this as a lost opportunity to see a uniquely personal facet of their character, of their soul, something that may have revealed to me some aspect of themselves which I never knew. There is something different about putting pen to paper - I can't quite figure it out - but it feels more personal, almost intimate, when you express yourself this way.

Thoughts ?

On marriage and the Oedipal complex

Do desi guys display a sense of attachment to their mothers more than other races, and vice versa mothers to son(s) ? If so, is this state of affairs unhealthy and what is the impact (negative or otherwise) on prospective future daughter-in-laws when dealing with her inlaws ? Do wives feel like outsiders, like being married to the mob ? The south asian psyche is littered with references to the joys of having a son, both in geet and fillum - and likewise, there is little idolization of daughter-in-laws, who at best appear subtly marginalised and at worst, are an unwanted participant in an emotionally intensive 'menage a trois' where the other two players are loathed to give space. Conversely, how difficult is it for guys to maintain the balancing act of spending quality time with their partners without feeling guilty about not interacting as frequently with parents as they did in a pre-married era ?

Review: Left Hand of Darkness

Imagine a world where freezing arctic conditions exist all year round, Machiavellian style politics and intrigue prevail, and the inhabitants have the capability to change their gender. These are some of the conditions that face Genly Ai, a lone envoy sent to the planet Winter to offer this alien world a chance to join a trade federation of other planets.

Le Guin's novel is not a new book. It was written back in 1969, but it is well regarded as classic of science fiction. I came across it recently by chance at my local library. The androgynous genderless nature of the near-human citizens on Winter, is one of the central challenges for Ai (and the reader) to cope with, as he has no initial reference point to determine the thinking of those he deals with, and those alien thought processes change as they transform into men or women during the process of 'kemmer' - the sexual reproductive cycle of the inhabitants.

Ai's friendship with Estraven, an exiled dissident on Winter, highlights many of the personal issues that Ai must negotiate. Late on in the book, Estraven metamorphizes into a woman during 'kemmer', challenging the previous platonic basis of their relationship. Estraven's untimely demise and the subsequent grief that Ai feels is one of the more poignant incidents in this novel.

'Left Hand of Darkness' certainly makes you think at many levels, and I give this a 9 out of 10.

Images of Kashmir

A compelling visual journey...check out this beautiful website:

http://www.kashmirretextured.com/

Hell on Earth

If India is able to facilitate the exchange of nuclear technology with the United States and launch satellites into space, perhaps at a micro-level they could improve conditions at their bureaucratic outposts around the world ?

Recently I had the misfortune to have to visit the Indian Consulate in Toronto. From the outside, it looks like any other normal building in Toronto, however, it is far from 'normal' inside. Entering the main area was a scene for which the best metaphor I could apply was 'hell on earth'. Your senses are assailed by a tidal wave of brown humanity packed into a room which was designed to only hold a quarter of the people there....jam-packed like Lahore station on the eve of Partition.

The walls are adorned with yellowing tattered posters exhorting the gullible (gora tourists no doubt) to 'Visit India'. You pick a 3 digit ticket to wait in line (eg. E-95) and yet the ticket counter clock is 2 digits in length (eg. 87), and you initially think this is great - not long to go - until you realize the person standing next to you is still waiting and they have B-22, and you still have all of 'C' and 'D' to go through. And the visa application forms on the web are different from the forms you pick up there. Apparently the web version is 'incorrect' and misses such vital details like 'Father's Occupation' and 'Mother's Maiden Name'. So you spend another 15 minutes jostling with Punjabi taxi drivers and emaciated Tamil types, re-filling the visa forms all over again. And it's like bad service has been magically transported from the homeland to Canada.

Signs which read 'Do not shout at staff' are testament to the exemplary service provided by those red tape worshipping baboons sat behind the glass counters.

Making friends too easily ?

Do we accord this status far too easily to recent strangers ? Is it a reflection of our fast paced disconnected society that somebody becomes a 'friend' after only a couple of email exchanges, or a cup of coffee or the odd random chance meeting at some social gathering. Do you feel you have arrived when you can fill up an address book (when you will never see 80% of contacts in a year anyway) ?

Obviously we may have close friends and we may have casual friends, and we each set our own qualifying criteria for promotion (and demotion) between the two categories. Even what constitutes 'close friend' is questionable as how many of us have actually gone through periods of real adversity and tribulation to actually test the 'all-weather' nature of that dosti ??
A recent study suggested that it becomes progressively harder to make new friends after the age of 25. Why is that ? Maybe because power, wealth and status relationships come into play, and you're no longer judged on who you are but what you are...

Is the actual reality that each person is an island onto themself, and that friends will come and go, and your real support network is your own blood family ??

4 more years...

So Kerry lost...so what ? The American people exercised their democratic right and chose their leader.

Okay, I admit I was a little despondent watching the results roll in last night. Me and my pal, Chivas Regal, were preoccupied with the state by state breakdown of votes...the map looking increasing red, punctuated by the odd blue for the Democrats.

What struck me was how polarized US society is with an increasing widening schism between northern liberals and an assorted array of coalition partners including anti-war, pro-choice types, and southern/mid-west rural conservatives - you know the types who believe Jesus would vote for Bush...(and what's with those Floridian Cuban-Americans ??) I'm still puzzled at the workings of the electoral college system...never mind, I have another 4 years to work that one out. Now, maybe if Hilary Rodham Clinton was to run for President in 2008..that might be interesting...

Okay, so right now we have another 4 years of Bush...but irrespective of Republican or Democrat:

- 9/11 would have still happened - the future 'clash of the civilizations' is still on the table

- Saudi Arabia is still on the brink of regime collapse

- Kerry's exit strategy from Iraq would be no different from Bush's (coz there is no exit strategy)

- The huge US deficit is still there, fuelled by the import-purchasing behaviour of American consumers, and subsidized by foreign investors

- US would still not ratify the Kyoto Accord on greenhouse gas emissions

- The Hollywood machine will still globally disseminate movies which venerate the cultural values of an anglo-centric imperialist empire.

So dosto, that's my political rant for the day (or year). I shall go back to my unquestioning shell and look forward to watching another superficial episode of 'Everybody Loves Raymond' tonight, as do millions of insular Americans each night.... :)

A tribute to Waris Shah

This poem from from one of Punjab's best modern day writers,Amrita Pritam, pays tribute to Waris Shah (1719 - 1790) - Punjab's poetic version of Chaucer and author of 'Heer Ranjha'. It is also the opening lines to the movie Pinjar - set against the backdrop of ethnic genocide during the 1947 partition of Punjab.



Aaj aakhan waaris shah nooN kito.n qabra.n vicho.n bol!
te aj kitab-e-ishq da koi agla varka phol!

I say to Waris Shah today, speak from your grave
And add a new page to your book of love

Ik roi si dhii punjab dii tuu likh-likh mare vaiN
aj lakkha.n dheeyan rondian tainuu.n waaris shah nooN kahaN!

Once one daughter of Punjab wept, and you wrote your long saga;
Today thousands weep, calling to you Waris Shah:

uTh darmandaN diaa dardiiaa uTh tak apNa punjaab!
aj bele laashaa.n vichiiaa.n te lahu dii bharii chenaab!

Arise, o friend of the afflicted; arise and see the state of Punjab,
Corpses strewn on fields, and the Chenaab flowing with much blood.

kise ne panja paaNia.n vich dittii zahir rala!
te unhaa.n paaNiaa.n dharat nuu.n dittaa paaNii laa!

Someone filled the five rivers with poison,
And this same water now irrigates our soil.

jitthe vajdii phuuk pyaar di ve oh vanjhli gayi guaach
ranjhe de sab veer aj bhul gaye usdi jaach

Where was lost the flute, where the songs of love sounded?
And all Ranjha's brothers forgotten to play the flute.

dharti te lahu vasiya, qabran payiyan choN
preet diyan shaahazaadiiaa.n aj vich mazaaraa.n roN

Blood has rained on the soil, graves are oozing with blood,
The princesses of love cry their hearts out in the graveyards.

aj sab 'qaido' baN gaye, husn ishq de chor
aj kitho.n liaaiie labbh ke waaris shah ik hor

Today all the Quaido'ns* have become the thieves of love and beauty,
Where can we find another one like Waris Shah?

aaj aakhan waaris shah nooN kito.n qabra.n vicho.n bol!
te aj kitab-e-ishq da koi agla varka phol!

Waris Shah! I say to you, speak from your grave
And add a new page to your book of love.

[*Quaido'n, a maternal uncle of Heer in "Heer Ranjha" is the villain who betrays the lovers]

Images of England & Southall

On a recent trip England....shots taken on my Olympus Stylus digital.

FYI: Southall is known as little Punjab and acts as shopping magnet for the Punajabi diaspora in Europe and beyond...

The Village

Whilst it's still fresh in my mind, we saw 'The Village' last night at the cinema. Directed by M.Night Shyamalan (Signs, 6th Sense, Unbreakable) - the film revolves around an isolated Pennsylvania village surrounded by dark forests. A sinister presence inhabits the woods, and the story revolves around the consequences of when the villagers transgress the boundaries of the forest.

In some respects this movie is the antithesis of 'Signs' where the power of faith gave one the ability to fight back; in 'The Village' unquestioning blind faith has a paralyzing effect on people in the face of adversity.

I give this movie a thumbs up. 8 out of 10.

The Box

Is there a modern philosophical equivalent of Pandora's Box ? Must we rely upon a tale from ancient Greek mythology to act as our only metaphor for describing that which we have all been tempted to open at some point ?

Why can't the act of opening be a positive moment, to be celebrated...rather than forever going on a guilt trip ? Or is part of life's bargain that the Box remains sealed ?

For every popular saying, there is a counter-saying..."many hands make light work" versus "too many cooks spoil the broth" or "curiosity killed the cat" versus "nothing ventured, nothing gained"...

LOL...my meandering ramblings don't appear to be going anywhere really.... :)

Getting stuck in your ways ?

Is there an age in life when you lose your behavioural elasticity and become routine based, and your personal preferences for even the most mundane of things like eating & shopping does not become a matter for negotiation ?

When you're at school or uni, life can feel like one big theme park and you can make new friendships daily and therefore become exposed to new vibrant influences which alters your attitude daily. However, once you start working or start a long term relationship, have a family, buy property etc - does your outlook slowly become more rigid and parochial ? Is there anything that can be done to reverse this degeneration of the open, flexible mind ? My curiosity is always piqued when I meet 20-something years old who act like 50 year olds, and vice versa....

Sikhs in Italy

Una numerosa comunità di indiani Sikh, attratta dalle opportunità di lavoro, specialmente nell'industria conciaria, si è stabilita nella cittadina di Arzignano, in provincia di Vicenza

Translated:

A numerous community of Sikh Indians, attracted from the job opportunities, especially in the industry of hides, has established itself in the small city of Arzignano, in province of Vicenza, northern Italy.

Here's the link with a great photo gallery. :)

http://www.dinofracchia.it/sikh/index.htm