Australia Apologises

Tomorrow the 13th of February 2008, will be a great day in the history of Australia. Prime Minister Kevin Rudd is going to apologise formally on behalf of the Australian government to the Aboriginal community. This apology will be for the policies of Stolen Generation which were in place for almost a century from 1869 to 1969.

This is great news, not just for the aborigines of Australia but for every Australian as they shake off the stigma attached to their past and now move on.

Full text of the speech is here.

History being made and I am present here, I feel very lucky.

Qtrax - Update (Don't bother)

Looks like I got excited 'bout Qtrax very early. With reports from the blogosphere not very encouraging and Wired giving it a miss. I tried to download the player but keep getting 'page not found', so won't bother with it till encouraging reports come up.

So, for now it is back to hoping for a really free music downloading source. Till then check out Lifehacker's list on ways to download and listen to music on the web (free of course).

Qtrax - 25 Million songs for free download

Starting tonight, Qtrax is putting up 25 million songs for listening and downloading for free. This is an ad-supported site with a peer-to-peer network for downloading music.

This is great news for music lovers like me. I just hope that this doesn't go the Spiral Frog way where the music is only available for downloads in the US.

In other music download news - Amazon music is considering going worldwide with their DRM free sales of music online.

Happy Republic Day, Happy Australia Day

From Australia Day website:

The tradition of noticing 26 January began early in the nineteenth century with Sydney almanacs referring to First Landing Day or Foundation Day. That was the day in 1788 Captain Arthur Phillip, commander of the First Fleet of eleven convict ships from Great Britain and the first governor of New South Wales, arrived at Sydney Cove.

From Indian Government website on Republic Day:

It was on 26th of January 1950 that the constitution of India came into force and India finally enjoyed the true spirit of freedom. More than on a political level, the day has emotional significance for Indians. Attached to the day is the recognition that we live in a sovereign, secular, and democratic nation that breathes on the principles of justice, liberty, equality and fraternity.

Today, I have double the cause for celebration. A proud son of two mothers, I am a citizen both of India and Australia. Overseas Citizenship of India has recognised its global citizens and gives opportunity and the privilege for expat Indians to enjoy the benefits of being an Indian citizen as well.

As if on cue, I got my OCI passport yesterday along with a sticker on my Australian passport with validity date of LIFELONG.

Have fun on your holiday and enjoy the benefits of living in a free world.

What a win for cricket!!!

After India's performance and its luck with umpiring in this series, I wasn't really sure of what would go down in Perth. Given the WACA's history and Australian team's aggressiveness I imagined Perth would be a draw rather than India's win. If India did win, then may be it would be a tight call.

But, no.

India won the series like champions of the game. When I used to watch Billiards and Snooker matches I used to think that I could hit the shots that the pros could, but there was one difference, the pros could do it repeatedly. So, when Ishant Sharma, R P Singh and Irfan Pathan bowled ball after ball with great accuracy and correct line and length they did show real skill in bowling.

That 19 year old Ishant Sharma would trouble a quality batsman like Ponting was not just amusing, but real treat to watch.

What would be memorable is R P Singh's hanging on to the batting along with Laxman to give just that little bit extra runs to India during their second innings. Kudos to Mitchell Johnson who made Indian bowling look stupid along with his adventurous shots, that stuff is what makes champions champions.

At the start of the game, the odds for India's win was $8, something I wouldn't really worry about. If I did bet on India, they might not have won, effectively, I made them win.

Picture courtesy: Cricinfo.com

Nobody remains a virgin...

Quite F***ing true.

Monkey walks a robot

Scientists in Duke university USA connected a monkey's brain to a robot in Kyoto, Japan. The monkey's thoughts made the robot walk.

Read all about it here.

Live in Fear, die anyway

According to a New York Time article, American's are probably worrying themselves to death. The cause of worry? Terrorism!

But worrying about terrorism could be taking a toll on the hearts of millions of Americans. The evidence, published last week in the Archives of General Psychiatry, comes from researchers who began tracking the health of a representative sample of more than 2,700 Americans before September 2001. After the attacks of Sept. 11, the scientists monitored people’s fears of terrorism over the next several years and found that the most fearful people were three to five times more likely than the rest to receive diagnoses of new cardiovascular ailments.

Living away from India and getting the news that there has been a terrorist attack in Mumbai or Hyderabad worries me a lot. I make frantic calls to friends and family to make sure they are okay. But the response to any of this call is a very casual, "Don't worry about it.".

Major shopping centres and tourist places do have mandatory security checks in Hyderabad and no Hyderabadi would blink before letting someone else grope you for possible bombs. In effect, they just grin and bear it.

But the wonderful thing about all this is, there is no fear or worry that they might be attacked. I am no psychologist or a social-worker to find out whether people really are afraid, but one look at the way people congregate at various exhibitions and no one in the family raises any concerns about security when planning to go anywhere, it is evident that the attitude is definitely positive.

Be resignation to fate about death ('When your time comes, you go') or the immense and pervasive faith ('God will do right'), Indians are definitely better off in this area. They might not be enjoying the benefits or comforts of a first world country, they are not hindered by first world fears.

My India trip - part 1

I just returned from a seven week relaxing trip to India. The trip was for a very personal reason and also for a bit of travelling on the side. The spirit of the people there and the ubiquitous positivity of the people amazes me still. The happiness factor is definitely very high there. Mix this with the available food options, family gatherings, cheap travel with hundreds of worthy destinations and a very good weather make me kick myself why I don't live there.

Of all the things you love about India its traffic is certainly not one of them. There were times where I longed to stay back and continue my life there, but once I hit the road, I am too glad that I don't live there any more.

Whinging and bad-mouthing apart. There are quite a few changes that I noticed that the government is working on to tackle the various issues. And I cannot help but wonder that if India has come this far despite the lax policies and omnipresent corruption, what where would the country be if things were a bit better much earlier when development started accelerating.

So there are now footbridges on major roads in Hyderabad (which, sadly was prompted by the death of 2 school girls) and plans are being laid for metro underground rail, which will take another 5 to 10 years by the time they are fully operational. The traffic issue will get worse before it starts looking up.

Public servants who sweep the roads have been given longer brooms so that they don't have to bend when doing their job. I always notice this because I cringe at the thought of them bending and doing their jobs with small brooms, but now am happy for them. It took so many decades for this change to come, probably no one ever protested enough. Not all municipalities have this though. One can still find some cringe worthy scenes of old ladies hunched up amid the dirt.

While my flight was taking off from Hyderabad, all the street lights looked very hazy through the flight windows. I was wondering why. Only later did I realise that the smoke and dust make them look that way. Why has no one thought about paving the roads so that there is less dust and dirt on the roads is another multi-decade question.

Will write more about my India trip later.
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The reason I went to India was to get married. The wedding was in typical Bengali style with styrofoam crowns and conch shells blaring. I am now a honorary Bengali.
The wedding followed by a honeymoon trip to Goa and Hampi, both places being very relaxing and wonderful places to visit.

Title Change

Not to focus only on Australia and India, I have now changed the title to make my blog more generic. I don't know if anyone reads this blog, but since I have written about cricket, the traffic has been constant.

Unrational? Yes. It may not be a word, but I will use it, just to show case my quirky way of writing sometimes.

Taare Zameen Par - Stars on the ground

Okay, the cheesy translation(which is, due to an some inspiration by my local DVD guy who wants to translate every movie title) aside, the movie TZP itself is a star in its own and all other rights.

When the rate of sub-standard movies coming out of Bollywood is faster than the birth of potholes on Indian roads, we have a winner. Taare Zameen Par, I am sure wasn't made to be part of the race.

There are a few times when a very new artist out performs senior players in the industry. 'Sixth Sense' is one example of this. Lux New Face Award in Filmfare awards is not. TZP is another example.

When every new movie that is made in Hindi has to have a romantic angle to it and very subtle points are exaggerated with emotional music, a song and liberal use of glycerine on the heroine's eyes, TZP managed it with great acting and minimal music. The point in the movie where the shishya (pupil) outperforms the guru (teacher) is true not just in the story but evident even in the acting. Aamir Khan's direction, of course played a huge part in production of this gem of a movie.

Ishant Avasthi is a dyslexic kid stuck in the race for perfection on report cards. A race set by parents and schools, but the participants never realised they were running in. So, when he cannot pass exams due to his inability of spelling and reading he is despised for his inabilities by his teachers and parents. This, by the way is nothing new for any kid in India, where he/she is judged solely on their report cards and nothing else.

His condition, dyslexia, is discovered by his teacher Ram Nikumbh (Aamir Khan), who takes upon himself to improve Ishant's condition by teaching him. I thought this was another example of Bollywood excessiveness until I found out there is a pretty good reason for this.

As pointed out earlier, the entire movie rests only on great artistic skills of Darsheel Safary, the young artist who outperforms Aamir Khan not just in the story but in real life. When Darsheel weeps on the screen out of sadness, it radiates. "Fully grown men wail", was one observation noted in the cinema by a friend, I don't consider myself fully grown (not mentally at least), so I did not wail, but I was moved enough.

There is very good use of animation in this movie. Of all the children's movies that Bollywood doesn't make, one would think that animation is not part of their forte. But the few times that it does come up in TZP, we know that there is real promise in that direction. Whether directors or big studios would make some good children's movies is another question.

So, when you want a respite from all the stupid comedies and over-acting from old actors, a breather from the item numbers and a break from over use of glycerine on thick make up of heroines, watch Taare Zameen Par for some very genuine acting and a heart-touching story. I would translate the title as "A Star from Bollywood".

The Haneef issue

"Wow! You are getting new roads around here.", I stated the very obvious happening in the streets of Hyderabad. "Yes, it's an election stunt", was the rather smart reply coming from my 10 year old cousin. Oddly, the part of new roads being an election stunt was very obvious as well. That was back in 1991.

Any casual observation of a politician's activities in a democratic country will make things very obvious that most of the good deeds they are doing is an election stunt. Even 10 year-old's cannot be fooled.

Caught in such a good deed by Australian immigration minister Kevin Andrews was the Indian doctor Mohammed Haneef. Being a distant relative of the suspects in a terror attack in the UK made Haneef find himself in detention in Brisbane. Subsequently, charges were laid and due to lack of evidence, bail was granted. In what involved knees and its jerks (pun-intended) the honorable Immigration Minister promptly cancelled Haneef's work visa on character grounds. At this point it is worth pointing that Dr Haneef had a temporary work visa in Australia and his departure from Australia was viewed as suspicious.

One would dismiss such an act as an unfortunate misjudgement on the minister's part, but for the subsequent acts of his office. The office leaked selective information without context to the press to show that Haneef was indeed guilty. Laying mortar is a relatively easy task accomplished for another tenure in office, but these kinds of slip ups was enough battery charge to kick start the Australian opposition parties into laying it thick on the ruling party and demanding enquiry into the whole fiasco..

What both parties unfortunately overlook is the protection of law and order (rather respect to it) and ultimately Haneef's well being. As Australia gets closer to elections, I hope everyone here sees through both party's pithy bickering.

As an aside, this is what happened to another terror convict David Hicks. Another pre-election stunt? You decide.

Gap uses Child labour in India

See here.

International clothing company Gap has called an emergency meeting with suppliers in India, following the discovery that some of its clothes have been made using child labour.

If you didn't know what GAP is, it is a major clothing store chain in the US. This is nothing new in India and on a very small discovery in the great labour scene of India. GAP clothing is also going to destroy all the stock made by these factories who employ kids. Just giving it back to those kids would've made their day or month or year depending on the quality of the cloth as these kids probably work for kapda (Clothes, trio of roti, kapda aur makaan or Bread, Cloth and Shelter that so many Indians work day-in and day-out for).

Crime in Melbourne

Where do you live? Footscray? Oh my god, is it safe?

This is quite a normal question I keep getting asked by new comers to Melbourne. And to tell them that the suburb I live in is very safe only for them not to get convinced about it makes me feel a bit upset.

Ok, there are a few suburbs in Melbourne that were once not very safe and by safe I mean if we can walk from the station to our home getting off the last train without fear of anyone disturbing us. Out of my 4.5 years in Melbourne, I have lived more than half the time in Footscray and never have I been disturbed or even afraid of anyone stopping me to ask for some change, a smoke(cigarette) or even threatened.

I have been to Sydney twice and spent a total of 8 days there, in this time I have seen more street fights in Sydney than in 4.5 years of living in Melbourne. May be I was just at the wrong places or may be that's just the way Sydney is.

In fact most of Melbourne is very safe not just for guys walking back home but even my girl friends are not afraid of getting back home late at night. This post is actually wasted on something that is non-existent and I like it that way.

Monkey kills senior official in New Delhi

See here. As inconsequential as news this really sounds, the reason I am blogging about it is because I read it in an Australian news site.

A WILD monkey that attacked the deputy mayor of New Delhi has been blamed for his death.

This, when news about Hyderabad blasts went largely unreported here in Australia. I guess the giggles factor counts. There is nothing funny in 35 people dying due to a terrorist attack.

Indian spectators taunt Andrew Symonds....

... or may be not. This message is for the omniscient media who have pitched notions such as 'Cows on the main streets in India', 'Turbaned Indians praying in front of Taj Mahal when aliens attack', 'Kangaroos on the main streets in Australia' and my personal favourite, 'Brides not meeting grooms before their wedding in India', please back the f*** off and report the facts as your supposed to!

Andrew Symonds was not subject to racist taunts, he was teased with monkey noises and ape like acts by individuals who probably belong to the jungle. Where does racism come into the picture? Unless monkeys are another race living amongst us.

For the record, us Indians do have a lot of respect for cricket and cricketers, we just get into the heat of the moment and start throwing things and making noises if team India is losing. When millions of us actually water at the mouth at the thought of India trouncing Pakistan in any form of the game, you can see that the audience at the stadium actually do congratulate even Pakistani cricketers for their achievements on the field. Still not convinced? then may be this should convince you. Seriously though, even Australian cricketers will know the passion Indian fans have for cricket.

What must have prompted the antics of a monkey must've been the appearance of Andrew Symonds with his braided hair and copious amounts of zinc that he applies on his face. I am sure that the average Indian would not know how to racially taunt someone like how 'Kaffir' would be the word to taunt a South African black player.

I congratulate team Australia for winning the series and am a proud Australian (one of my two countries) as we have won another series. As my friend Akhil did blog about this, I would say: "Andrew, get a haircut". Sad for India as they have lost another series.

Update: See here, Andrew Symonds never complained, it was the media who blew it out of proportion.

What's been happening

Actually nothing more than the normal course of events, except for Spring is here and the spirits are high. Them spirits were in fact low, so the posts weren't in at all. But now back to business and hopefully a good run of regular posts till I take a big break.

I am now an Australian citizen, so may be I should change the blog title to something like "The larrikin from Green Land". With the rules on immigration in Australia changing faster than Linux updates, I have had a good option of living here only for 24 months as a permanent resident before being eligible for citizenship. For now people have to wait for four years or so.

The citizenship test was also smooth and was undertaken by an Indian-Australian. May be it was just to drive home the fact that Australia is actually made up of lots of Immigrants, the swearing in ceremony was held by another Indian-Australian lady.

They don't let you smile in Passport photos any more. I don't think any terrorist would be smiling either when getting a passport done. The ones who actually submit straight-faced pictures should be promptly arrested.

I am now also in the process of getting Overseas Citizenship of India also known as OCI. The time of getting this processed according to the website is 6 weeks, but when I called in and asked it is more like 4 months. So, for now I am going to get a tourist visa to go to my country. "UNWARRANTED PHONE & WRITTEN ENQUIRIES MAY DELAY THE PROCESS." - This is just a notice on the visa information page, they probably have a basket at their office labelled "Delay these", once someone makes an enquiry.

More updates from this Golden Land soon.

The Race Card

Walking into any Indian restaurant one is likely to find many whites savouring the seriously watered down versions of Indian dishes. This is not just to prevent the highway murder which would be result as a consequence of the spicy food to an untrained mouth, but also to gain more customers in the long run.

On one such event recently (of walking into an Indian restaurant, not highway murder) I saw the all familiar group of one or two whites sitting with a big family of Indians. Indians like to boast of their culture at the drop of the hat to anyone who is remotely interested. Coming to an Indian restaurant with an Indian family would qualify as being interested in the food and culture. I would imagine the whites were given a fair dose of the culture by the all too proud family around the table.

Prone to imagination as I am, I turned this situation around and tried to see myself with an African family at an African restaurant eating their food and listening to what they say about their culture. If such a situation comes around, I would relish both the food and the company.

Such a scene of an Indian sitting with a group of Africans/Japanese/Europeans would not be too common in a multicultural place like Australia. One can accuse me of gross generalisation here but I cannot really say us Indians to be really interested in other cultures. Apart from trying to westernise oneself which is the cool thing to do, Indians are not really interested in anyone other than themselves.

Why then, I would like to ask would Indians who want to leave India so desperately and travel to western countries but absolutely do not want to know others? Why is Australia (or anywhere else) is just to make money and send it back home, but not mingle and celebrate the diversity? Isn't calling westerners racist and at the same time trying to isolate oneself from all others while living with them hypocritical?

Passing of a Grandfather - For a 12 year old.

Just when the memories of my grandfather are fresh in my mind. Blogger and writer Sam DeBrito presented this wonderful, heart-rending piece of memorial for her grandfather by 12-year old Pia from the remote town of Weipa in Queensland, Australia.

Hate, love and in-between

I hate funerals, everyone crying, whimpering and sobbing, Kleenex and soggy hankies flying everywhere. I can hear the Frank Sinatra My Way music sailing in as my grandfather's coffin is carried by my older cousins and relatives.

"Regrets I have a few but then again, too few to mention," I hear the deep, strong-as-a-lion voice of Sinatra belting in my ear. It is like a big annoying fly I can't get it out of my head, that won't ever go away.

I'm certainly not going to cry. I'm not that sad. There are an obese amount of people here, relatives I don't even know, you'd think my grandad was Elvis Presley or something. I'm sitting next to my mother who's literally crying her eyes out. She's looking at me sideways like I'm some extra-terrestrial. She must think my blood is made from ice and that my heart is a hard, freezing icebox, refusing to make any emotion whatsoever.

"He was a wonderful grandfather, Dad, and a mighty man all round," sobs my cousin Ben. He looks like a wreck, his eyes like gushing waterfalls, full of fresh, raw and clear water.

I've got better things to think about. It's in the middle of the day and the sun is outside, sauntering through the windows, bringing life into the dark and disturbed room. You'd never know it, there's nothing shining in here mentally. I'm too ashamed to look at anyone in case they take offence or get embarrassed.

Everyone is dressed very formally; tailored suits and dresses, good shoes, make-up. Most of the outfits consist of black, navy blue and brown - the most depressing colours in the rainbow. My grandmother is dressed up the best I have ever seen her, wearing a matching skirt and vest with horrible, 80's style, so-over-and-done-with shoulder pads. I feel like telling her to get with the times and throw them in the bin.

Everyone puts roses, daisies and tulips on my grandfather's coffin, which is made of hard oak with a nice glossy sheen, the best money can buy. Beautiful flowers, daffodils, tulips, some bright and some pastel - colours that stand out on the shiny coffin lid. They look fresh and premature like the beautiful gift of life has just burst into them.

I feel a lot of emotions: awkwardness, confusion, wonder, sadness. I start to remember. He was a wonderful man; tall, beer gut, bandy legs and a croaky voice. He liked a beer or two, or three or four. He was a great bloke to have as a grandfather; he treated me like a goddess, but with restrictions too. He taught me right from wrong, how to say a few Russian words and when a tomato was ripe enough to pick.

I'm suddenly struck by the fact he's no longer around. How will life go without him? I talked to him everyday, sometimes about my innermost thoughts and I never had to explain anything. I feel like an arrogant, too-good-for-this, too-high-class, insensitive idiot for not crying. I'm overcome with feelings of goodness and joy; the world feels like it has stopped, paused for a few moments.

A slow, long, wet drip slips from my eye and runs down my cheek. It feels like ice on my warm face. How did I let this happen?

A Grandfather's passing

Why are children and grandparents very close?
Ans: Because they have a common enemy.

I got the call from my sister, I was at work, I heard the news and couldn't comprehend it for some time, then called my father, he was at work too but he did not know yet. I walked away and drove home, missing a few red-lights, not starting at a few green ones. My grandfather, one of the very few relatives I respected had passed away, I cannot think of going back and meeting him because he won't be there. What I will be meeting is the family he spawned and see his qualities in them.

Though we talked very less, it was more of the understanding that we shared. When he knew that I would be leaving for Australia he did not question my decision, rather encouraged me to go ahead. When I went home for the first time, I saw him first. He was there, tall and strong waiting for I don't know how long for me to come out of the terminal. When I touched his feet, he hugged me tight.

One of my earliest memories of him was sleeping besides him waiting for him to tell me a story. But he was working, cutting away at one of his Burqas. He used to stitch this gown worn by muslims, a Hindu himself. But work was work and he was good at it. He would come back and tell me a story of an elephant. I don't remember the story, 'cause I slept. It was a sleeping story.

He got all his five daughters married. It is a huge achievement in India, where the father of the bride does not only burden himself with the weddings but also a bit of dowries, he handled them all. He was around for the wedding of two of his grandchildren, my sister and my younger cousin. He wasn't just around, he helped with my cousin's wedding as well, monetarily and physically. He was lucky to play with his great-grand child-my niece. He was 85 when he passed away.

Always up for treats: ice-cream, sweets, Biryani, Paya (Hoove's curry), kidney curry, it was readily made under his orders. The grandchildren got most of his love. No request was denied. There would be no reason to request anything, they were readily available.

Always up for exercise and being fit, At 85, his diabetes was under control. He could walk down five storeys of a building without help, his much younger wife couldn't perform the feat. (Any one with problems with legs would know that going down a flight of stairs is harder than going up.). Him and his two elder brothers would finish a whole cooked goat in one go. I have never seen him sick or not at work. There were times he would be asleep, but the orders for Burqas would come from far and wide. His favourite story would be when he would walk all the way from Hyderabad to Secunderabad (about 12 km) to meet my other grandmother (my father's mother) who he was distantly related to.

All major events were celebrated with pomp. A garland and sweets for all birthdays were a must followed by a feast with Biryani being part of the main course. All of us grandchildren would demand feasts which were honoured. Invitations to such events could not be refused.

He was an epitome of optimism: Everything good always would happen (according to him), there was no reason for pessimism. My sister was getting married when my then would-be brother-in-law wasn't yet employed, when most of us wouldn't think of going ahead with wedding plans, his word was final: "He would get a job.No reason for us to postpone the date for that reason". And that was that.

In Hyderabad, Muharram is observed by Muslims. He was a part of it. The reason I mention this is because he being a Hindu was a significant participant. One of my ancestors (and his) found icons of Islam in a river and would make those icons a part of that Muharram observation, the rite passed on to him and he did his part, with great dedication. In January this year, when I was there, he couldn't come see me off for the same reason. Responsibility before family. I was disturbed that he had to apologise to me.

The most significant thing he did for me was he was always there. He had so many responsibilities but still there for me. When I went for my Defense Academy interview he came to the train station to see me off, he would tell me stories, he would take me along to feed pigeons, he would stand in a crowd for over two hours for me to come out of the airport, he would take me along to buy me a police dress (when I was four), he would want his grandsons to wear suits and he got them stitched for us (when I was 26), he was there by my side when I broke my leg and I was whimpering in delirium with pain (my father fainted then), he was an inspiration, he was the strength helping me make decisions, he wasn't a guide but he is the goal for me in my life. I wouldn't forget his optimism, his love of life, his love for celebrations and most of all his responsibility and love for his family. Baba I love you and rest in peace.