The Photograph

He didn’t let anyone tell me about it when they visited me in hospital for he knew it would spoil the effect. It was waiting for me in the living room sofa as I entered my home after a four day recovery from Dengue fever. I felt like I had stepped into a machine and travelled twenty four years back in time. In front of me was a photograph so beautiful, haunting and personal that it took my breath away.

The photograph had been taken by none other than Sunil Gupta (www.sunilgupta.net ) and it had a twenty five year old man sitting on a bench in a cold winter afternoon at the central park at Connaught place. The photographer had captured the bench in perfect symmetry which gave the scene a three dimensional feel. The boy was sitting in tracksuit top, tight jeans flared at the boot and low heeled boots. A mop of curly hair and thin moustache adorned his intense intelligent face. His profile showed angst, passion, confusion and all that one usually experiences at the juncture when one steps into adulthood and makes choices that determine one’s life. In contrast there were two Caucasian girls lying on the grass at a distance without a care in the world and three older men slouching in the sun gazing into the horizon. At the forefront was a barren tree with its limbs stretching out and in the background the sky was a clear blue with a spattering of white clouds. One can almost smell the slight Delhi fog in the air when one looks at the photograph and one can imagine the smell of roasted peanuts and sweet potatoes emanating from the vendors standing in the park.

The young man in the photograph is my brother who was asked to pose twenty four years ago, in the year 1986. He had just finished his engineering and was going through the motions of working in a job he found rather boring. He had heard through mutual friends that his photograph had become famous, had featured in a book and had been exhibited in London. Being the relaxed, unassuming and non vain individual that he is, he never tried to seek the photograph. He heard that his friend in Washington, a Jewish professor, had recognized him when he saw it exhibited in London and had bought the photograph for a large amount of money.

What my brother did not know was that the person who had introduced him to Sunil had insisted on a copy to be made for him. He had since then shifted his base to Lucknow and had carefully kept the piece of art wrapped in his attic. Little did my brother know when he decided to go to Lucknow to meet his friend after ten years that such a gift awaited him. To receive a work of art that represents friendship, memories and beautiful transient inspiring youth at the thresh hold of turning half a century is truly a blessing from forces that guide destiny.

Dealing with Designers

“You may want to consider muted earthy shades for the wedding apparel to offset your daughter’s dusky complexion. Did you see Anoushka Shankar’s nuptial photographs? She looks fantastic in Green. Vermillion red is so passé and middle class. You may also want to consider her joining the spa; they would plan her diet, change her skin tone, make her exercise and also do some non invasive liposuction. ” The designer gave her monologue while sipping her green tea and purred in satisfaction since she had managed to get all her concerns off her chest without the bride to be snarling at her. She found these confident young educated girls very difficult as customers. They truly seemed to believe that men were attracted to their brains and their talents. Being the most highly regarded designer in India and having dressed the powerful and wealthy she knew the laws of attraction very well.

Mrs.Mehta quickly diffused the tension in the air before her daughter could react. “We see your point my dear but the groom and his family are old school. They like the lovely curves the bride possesses and the colour red.” She matched the tinkle of her fake laugh to the designers smirk. There was no better way to silence everyone in north India than to bring in the groom’s family. They represented all the deities rolled into one during the wedding season. The designer sighed and said “I suppose you will now be ordering shiny gold jewellery and not giving it an antique finish as I has suggested? Well, Lara Dutta looks good in the D’damas advertisement so it can’t be too bad.” Sneaking a look at the bride’s purple face which looked like she was going to have a coronary, the designer beat a hasty retreat after giving Mrs.Mehta two air kisses.

“Mom, why do you pay people so much money and listen to their insults? I find this woman abominable. Let’s buy a Kanjeevaram from Nalli’s. My medical school friends will be disgusted at this horrendous display. Do you know the furniture designer has refused to incorporate a bookcase into the living room? She says the multiple colours of the books will clash in the colour scheme! She refuses to look at natural cotton fabrics and wants only beige silk with zariwala cushions! I refuse to have dry flowers in the room and please do not buy the art she recommends. She insists on either sad people with large eyes or cows outside a temple, all in shades of brown and black to match the colour scheme!!! I want a home not a hotel.”

Mrs.Mehta sighed and rubbed her temples. She had worked hard and saved money to give her daughter a designer wedding to remember but she found that spending money seemed to make life tougher rather than easier. Wedding consultants worked well if the customer was convinced about their inadequacies and handed over the mantle of their decision making which could not be considered with her tempestuous daughter. She picked up her cutlery and sat down to eat her unappetising salad lunch since she was attempting to lose her love handles for the occasion. She looked at the fork and knife which was a Diwali gift from her best friend. It was from the Africa series of a very elite design establishment but to her eyes they strong resembled tongs that should be inserted in her hair to keep her bun in place. A long bamboo stick ended with a tiny appendage from a Barbie kitchen.

Weren’t designers supposed to incorporate aesthetics with utility? Why did they most often work at cross purposes? Mrs. Mehta stared at her refrigerator as a case in point. The freezer which is opened to retrieve non vegetarian raw material twice a day is at the most convenient location at eye level. The water shelf and the vegetable/ fruit tray which is used multiple times by everyone is at the bottom of the fridge which made most people with back problems go into an absurd squat position. Why are name plates in office complexes placed at the end of the corridor, after the lifts? Her office designer would rather have her take anti allergy pills than take out the carpet in her room. Every designer hated storage place for accounts books, box beds for storing the quilts and bookshelves in the house.

As a doctor Mrs.Mehta was aware that putting the young girls through a crash diet and a slimming centre was the worst curse that a mother could give to her nuptial bliss for all physiologists know that absence of fat in the body would necessitate artificial lubricants. Yet the slimming industry thrived on the marriage market. Her daughter wanted a real Shehnai player to play at the entrance to greet the guests while the wedding planner wanted Vijay’s band along with a few nautch girls splashing Ittar on the guests. The bride wanted marigold decorations and the florist wanted white lilies Hollywood style. And here she was ignoring her patients and playing referee to trivial conflicts with a perennial migraine and a hollow stomach.

Mrs.Mehta decided that she should think positive and document her experiences so that she may consider an alternate career by writing a book on “Dealing with Designers”.

The Games

The Commonwealth Games held at Delhi this year was very reflective of the way in which our government functions. Great Macroeconomic planning by erudite people educated in the best colleges internationally, large outlays of funds, a complete lacklustre execution with the objective of the plan being out of focus and yet a 9% GDP growth rate which exists alongside abject poverty, lack of health, water, sanitation and education. We ended the games with a result that is praiseworthy and the event passed without any major glitch which was evident to the international media. As a person who has witnessed the games with participation from family and friends let me narrate a few observations about the games.

The participants of the opening and closing ceremony and the volunteers need to be truly applauded. They needed to take leave of absence from jobs and their education to practise for up to 12 hours a day for over two months for the event. The support from the organising committee in providing good food, medical and transport for these people were rather lacking but the opportunity that these youngsters faced made them overlook all encumbrances.

Having met the mother of a member of the Indian shooting team I was told that the residential facilities and amenities given to the athletes was one of the best in the world. We pampered the visitors and any negative reporting to the contrary should be ignored.

The tickets for the games events and passes for all the cultural events was a nightmare. My daughter visited the CWG booth at Dilli Haat and Qutub Minar on three occasions and my driver visited them on two occasions and no one had any idea about the passes for the cultural programs. We had booked tickets for the sports events on the internet using the credit card and faced no issue. The stadium was virtually empty for the athletics day during which both the 100 meters and 200 meters finals were being held. Tennis and hockey attracted full stadiums while other events had large pockets of empty seats, especially in the reserved category. The food at the stadia was awful, limited and very difficult to access. Drinking water and toilets remained an issue. Being a spectator needs resilience and courage.

Mr.Kalmadi was booed when he spoke at the opening and closing ceremony and many people felt it was in poor taste. However it is undeniable that the CWG officials were not a polite and cooperative bunch of people to deal with as a participant, spectator or vendor. They were arrogant and patronising. The government lost enormous revenue by not managing to get stocks of memorabilia and souvenirs available at the venues or CWG stands. One enquired for T shirts and caps at many venues and was turned away.

The excitement of the games has permeated sports into the masses. My physiotherapist has a sister who was spotted in a government school in Haldwani and is now part of the national team in steeplechase running. He tells me that the government made her athletics career possible and offered her a job in the railways when she was eighteen and now the Police force at twenty one has permitted her to train and run for her country. Krishna Poonia and Saina Nehwal are both within the top five in the world in their sports. Let’s hope this impacts the status of the girl child in Indian society.

The nation salutes all our sportsmen and women who have done us proud in the past two weeks. You have changed the way our future generations will evolve in the years to come with your success stories.