Entries Tagged 'SMALL WORLD' ↓

The Utah tourism board couldn’t have chosen a more brilliant campaign line. Just spent a vacation in the high desert visiting national parks and wilderness areas. This is a leave of absence I’d be content to do all over again, and again.

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Long time pending and I’m glad it’s finally done – in anticipation of the upcoming CD release, this website has been through a makeover and went live this weekend! Newer pictures of an older me

I’m sure a lot of us ponder about the mystery of coincidences pretty frequently. What were the odds of this or that happening; and yet they did. Take the couple who missed boarding the ill-fated Air France flight out of Rio a few days ago becuase they were late to arrive at the airport. The plane crashed into the Atlantic four hours after departure. The news media hailed it as a stroke of good luck or karma for the couple – and yet, ten days later, the two were in a head-on collision with a truck while touring Austria, the wife died, the husband was critically injured.

People miss planes frequently and car accidents are a dime a dozen. Plausible explanation for accidents such as these. Yet, the common response to this couple’s tragic story, is that the woman somehow cheated death the first time, but was meant to die the second time. (Remember the movie ‘Final Destination?’) Cruel as it may sound – it was her destiny, fate. But why would her life be saved the first time, and not be spared the second time? How does one explain the ten extra days she was granted as a bonus on this earth – did she have a purpose or mission to accomplish during that time? A better understanding of probability might explain why these train of events are more likely to be remarkable coincidences, rather than mystic or supernatural phenomena . Not entirely by chance, I came across this video:

I recently got back in touch with an ex-student of mine. Nicolitta, a teenager then, was gifted with facile technique, her performance bolstered by many years of practice and attention to detail while studying advanced works by the likes of Bach and Bartok. I recall visiting her leafy cottage in Bandra, and after a piano session over the obligatory cup of tea and snacks, watched her kickstart an old Bullet motorbike and take a cautious ride in the crowded, narrow winding lanes outside her house. That was the first time I glimpsed the hidden spitfire in her. In time, we parted. I moved to Canada, she went on to use her seamstress skills designing bridal wear and garments for export.

A passion is however hard to kill – Nicolitta is now a seasoned dirt bike rider, having come to terms with high altitude sickness, bike breakdowns and the fact that she can be regarded as somewhat of an unusual spectacle in rural male-dominated India. She has undertaken extensive trips to remote places and has shot some breathtaking stills on the way. Her latest adventure released on DVD with four other fellow bikers of the motorcyle club ’60kph’ was filmed by Gaurav Jain of Dirt Track Productions – a solo effort with no tech crew or support across a route that no GPS or map has recorded. I recently watched this award winning documentary - a beautiful film with geographical chapters unfolding a spectacular journey, sometimes raw, but always real. This is not your typical ‘bike tour’ with luggage being towed by an alternate form of transport and a Comfort Inn at day’s end. I can’t help but be proud of Nicolitta for chasing the dream against all odds to realize her passion. Here’s a trailer from the DVD:

The DVD was shipped to me in excellent tamper-proof wrapping and can be purchased here.

Some live by “Love thy neighbor as thy self.”
Others by first do no harm, or take no more than you need.

What if the mightiest word is love, love beyond marital, filial, national.
Love that casts a widening pool of light. Love with no need to preempt grievance.

In today’s sharp sparkle, this winter air, anything can be made, any sentence begun.

On the brink, on the brim, on the cusp — praise song for walking forward in that light.

[excerpt from the Inaugural Poem by Elizabeth Alexander]

I was in Mumbai (formerly Bombay, the name I find hard to discontinue using since I knew it as such for most of my life) during the month of November, on a vacation to visit family and friends. During this time, we visited our favourite haunts including the majestic Taj Hotel where we lunched at the Golden Dragon restaurant. I distinctly remember how impressed I was by the rich decor, classical ambiance and spaciousness of this century old structure. A few things were different I sensed, compared to my last visit seven years ago. There were more people for sure – milling in the lobby and at the entrance, with hundreds more just outside the periphery of the Taj, a spill over from the squeeze of visitors to the Gateway of India. Just outside the lobby, at the foot of the gleaming marble stairs, was a solitary narrow metal detector that visitors had to pass through before entering the hotel. It looked ugly, out of place in these surroundings, and hardly seemed effective. Once inside the hotel lobby, we tried to capture some video footage on our camcorder of the enormous room with the stunning chandelier and artefacts, but were politely asked to refrain from doing so, as we would be “offending guests”. (Had the staff been instructed to curb people from filming the interiors for security reasons, or was it truly because we might offend the sensibilities of guests and intrude their privacy, albeit in a fairly public place?)

A few days later, we were enjoying an exquisite Indian buffet spread at a restaurant in another 5-star hotel a few kilometres away at an area popularly know as the Juhu beach. There was an outdoor wedding reception taking place on the beachfront. We saw headlines flash by on the restaurants big screen TV - there had been shootings at the main railway station in Mumbai, then at the Metro cinema in South Bombay. Within minutes, the channel was showing raw footage of the aftermath of gun attacks at Leopold’s Cafe. We thought it might be gang-related, but Leopold’s was hardly the kind of venue for assassinations of this sort. It was essentially a tourist hangout, and its clients didn’t didn’t seem to be sort who might be involved in trouble of this nature. Within few minutes we heard that the Taj was under attack, and there were gunshots in the Oberoi hotel lobby. My brother, who was dining with us, and who also manages a luxury hotel property in Bombay was on his Blackberry pretty much the rest of the night asking his staff to secure the hotel gates, and to screen ID’s of all guests. It was difficult to swallow further morsels of food after this. Then the bomb explosions in North Bombay.  We knew at this point the police were on the street, and curfew had been imposed. Our hotel had closed its gates, but the restaurant staff were still on duty, serving guests and going about their duties, making sure we did not rush through our meal. However, we decided that it would be in our best interest to head homeward as soon as possible.

As we all know, Bombay was shaken by some of the most horrific terrorist attacks that night. The Golden Dragon restaurant we visited a few days earlier at the Taj was one of the venues targeted by the killers, the hotel as we all know, a major portion of it destroyed by fire. A couple from NYC (who incidentally had table reservations at the Golden Dragon) detailed their harrowing experience in a Forbes interview and in an interview with Charlie Rose, commended the Taj hotel staff, most of them who put their lives at risk and some who died in turn.

A saga that lasted nearly three days, it was a disaster in crisis management. The city is not used to guns and automatic weapons. It takes two years or more to get a license to own a gun, so most security guards do not carry one. The most common form of a weapon is a lathi or a wooden cane, still popular with the police force, mainly used as a crowd control measure. And if they do carry guns, they haven’t been fired in years. It was nerve wracking to to see a lone firefighter perch on a wall across the second floor window of the Taj trying to douse the raging flames with no bullet proof vest or armour, with no policeman or agent covering him, a sitting duck for the terrorists. Most Bombayites wanted to hear from Ratan Tata, chairman of the Tata Group that owns the hotel, and heads the vast Tata empire. Ratan, like his predecessors in the Tata family is known for his patronage of art and culture. The Taj had a treasure of irreplaceable paintings, old maps, artefacts and several modern works. Many were lost in the fire. Fareed Zakaria interviewed him soon after, and it was no surprise that he was frustrated by the slow response to this catastrophe.

And so, in some twisted way I admit was glad to have been there when this happened. At least, if nothing, an expression of solidarity with my city folk. Life is tough for most of the population here on just a normal day. Water shortages, traffic jams, dust and pollution, failures of the power grid, poverty. Now bring into this equation, a recession and terrorism – amounting to an incredibly challenging time that is going to test the city to its gills, and one that I hope the city manages to survive with grace and determination.

I’d mostly seen this ancient pipe being used by people in Indian villages, but it appears that it is a trend gaining popularity among college students in urban areas today. Hookahs are widely being offered in cafes and restaurants in Indian cities, with the tobacco offered in an assortment of flavors. Students come in groups and sit for hours peacefully gurgling communal pipes in casual surroundings. Here’s a hookah menu hanging at a popular ‘dhaba’ restaurant on the outskirts of Bombay. (This place also served served ‘emu tikka’ btw).

Incidentally, one of my upcoming performances (20th November) will be at a restaurant in Pune called the Shisha Jazz Cafe, ‘shisha’ being a common term for the hookah in the Middle East. For reservations call 20-65200390.

No really. At Boosey & Hawkes, the classical music business behind Stravinsky and Prokofieff.

Getting pronunciation correct, especially when it comes to names of countries, religions and personal names is a basic sign of respect for a nation and it’s culture, and not an ‘exotic’ endeavour. I’m glad this is being discussed here. As for our politicians – anyone who claims to remotely have anything to do with foreign policy should stop critiquing Obama. Sometimes, just the pronouncing of a country’s name correctly, can evoke a gush of goodwill from that nations’ citizenry. A basic step in good ambassadorship.

Most folks in the US wouldn’t be aware of this, but it’s nearly time for us Canadians to elect our new PM – Oct. 14th actually. In June, CTV and the Globe & Mail did a survey which stated that Canadians preferred Obama over their own leaders. In an article out yesterday, the Vancouver Sun reports that it is a case of Obama-envy with 42% (a huge increase in margin!) of them choosing Obama, well ahead of the 29% that current Conservative PM Stephen Harper garnered. Ouch. Inspired by this solid enthusiam of Canadians for the US candidate, there’s a ”Barack Obama For PM” website with spiffy T-shirts, complete with igloo and maple leaf logos.

Well, I wouldn’t wish it to happen, but after the results of the last US election there’s always a nagging fear of history repeating itself. So if McCain wins, at least we know that Obama can always head over to Parliament Hill in Ottawa So to those among my friends who I know are thinking of re-locating to Barcelona, Amsterdam or Auckland if the Republicans win, perhaps you may not have to move that far after all!