tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-69297398462194362502024-02-19T22:03:57.026+05:30food,travel and livingServing the World on a plateNevinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07046628275624256612noreply@blogger.comBlogger176125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6929739846219436250.post-36130252538760925692018-10-11T02:32:00.002+05:302018-10-11T02:32:57.439+05:30THE REALLY HONEST TRAVEL REVIEW: REACHING GAUHATI or GUWAHATI OR WHATEVER THE FUCK YOU WANT TO CALL IT<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Oh, getting
here in easy. You just board a flight and sit out 2 hours 40 minutes hoping
your flight is turbulence-resistant as they claim it to be and TADA. But hey, I
wouldn’t be blogging about if it was that easy, right? Wait, I don’t even know
why I’m blogging. I think it is has more to do with nostalgia. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">I once
wanted to be a traveling journalist. You know, the contributing in Hindu Sunday
Magazine types. Overly descriptive compositions I would write; wait this was my
favourite – dew drops tinkling my toes as I XX (fill up say something like as I made my way across the forest to reach the school or something). I made it a point to include
dew drops in whatever the fuck I wrote in school. It was where my imagination
started and ended. And English teachers hardly cared. Imagine correcting 40-odd
boring, fake essays and letters by overly enthusiastic kids. Fuck, they deserve
a prize for reading that shit. Plus, teachers, especially English, changed
every fucking year. No way they were going to see through my dew drops tactic.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Anyway, all
that shit convinced me to blog. Also, desire for a lot of attention. We will
get to that part later on. Where was I again? Oh yeah, reaching Guwahati. </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">For
the FIRST TIME IN MY LIFE I wasn’t 2 hours early for my flight and guess what
happens? Indigo systems crash. No computers were working and I had not checked
in. </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">*Looks at phone*: Fuckers, they are still sending me messages asking me to review the
journey. WELL HELLO CAN I REVIEW WHAT HAPPENED IN THE AIRPORT AS WELL? </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Just
about managed to board my flight (even though their staff gave me and a million
other crying customers the guarantee that the flights won’t take off without us).
It doesn’t end there though. I get the middle seat. Like when things go wrong,
they really go wrong type? On my left side was a good looking chap, fair,
polished (aka clean shave), well built. Want to be in films from fucking Lokhandwala (Andheri and not Kandivali) types.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Gaah, he was already asleep and had his fucking arm on the arm rest. So here is
the rule: middle seat occupant has the right to the armrests. Both sides. No
questions asked. Unless if it is someone old and you want to be considerate.
But the power should be with the ‘middleperson’. The other side was a
relatively old uncle (with my dad turning 62 I no longer know who is uncle and who
is grand dad). </span>Nice guy though. Had no interest in Mr. Armrest! I was like, “FUCK at least one is mine!”</div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">And that’s
when captain decided to drop a Bomb. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">“Our flight
to Kolkata is now ready for take off”, she said!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Now listen,
I know it was a mistake. Like I couldn’t have possibly passed through so many
fucking security checks and boarded the wrong flight. But this was an opportunity
of a life time. And I was more than ready to fucking pretend like I was in a
state of shock. <br />
<br />
OK, context – I love talking to strangers. It is the best thing to pass time.
Like get into Uber, ask <i>Uber kaise chal rahe hai Bhayya</i>, and then together slay the
corporates (and Modiji, because well duh!). <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Me to uncle
(Lokhandwala guy is still sleeping): “This flight stops in Kolkata? I think I
boarded the wrong flight then.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Uncle: “No,
they made a mistake.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">FAAAAAAKKKKKKK.
Uncle stopped my advances in one killer punchline. Fuck, I still don’t know how
I could have worked around that one. Anyway, I put on the earphones, pretended
like I didn’t care. BUT FUCK I WAS HURT!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Oh,
sandwiches in Indigo sucked by the way. But I still ate them. Fuck, let me just
fill the bloody review form first and get back to blogging.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">*Disappears*</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">We landed
around 7:40 in the evening. Guwahati is like a town, man. Like the plane was on
the descend so I peeked outside (Lokhandwala guy was again asleep after waking
up to eat fucking plane-wala upma which he said “tasted excellent” to the air
hostess and still asked for FUCKING SABUDHANA KICHDI first) and there were like
2 or 3 lights. That’s it. I was half expecting to crash land into some farm. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">We didn’t,
unfortunately. Touch down and Lokhan-dude gets up. He was in a hurry of course.
Or he had dreamt something bad and did all that in an impulse. Remember, the
plane’s just touched down and Mr. Uncle hasn’t moved out of his seat yet.
Lokhan-dude says he wants to go and I was in half a mind to ask him to fucking
take my legs with him because I certainly didn’t how to bend it so that he can fucking pass. In the end, Lokhan-fucking-dude just pushed his way out – uncle and I bending (twisting?) our legs rightwards (channeling our inner Simone Biles) in perfect synchronization to let him move outside and wait for the queue to get so THAT HE CAN BE ONE STEP AHEAD OF ME AND UNCLE AND BOARD THE SAME FUCKING BUS TO THE TERMINAL. Fucking humans! </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">What a time to learn he was wearing a low waist jeans though. Showed half of
his ass (is it called ass cleavage?) to both of us in the process of getting out, but at least that prompted uncle to
finally gave in. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Uncle: “Where
are these people rushing to?”<br />
Me: NO FUCKING RESPONSE UNCLE BECAUSE YOU DIDN’T TALK TO ME IN THE FLIGHT<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Also me:
Hmm, maybe that was a rhetorical question.<br />
<br />
Here is a quick GK semi-rhetorical question: Did you know Guwahati wasn’t the
capital of Assam? IT IS DISPUR. Haan, even I didn’t know that. Like Sydney and
Australia. Or Kochi and Kerala. But hey, unlike Thiruvananthapuram, Dispur is
INSIDE Guwahati. We would kick Thiruvananthapuram out if it ever tried to get inside Kochi. Shooo. Anyway, it is like a city within a city (though it did look like some
village from the air though).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">I took an
Ola cab from the airport (cost me Rs 400/- since we are going to pretend this is like an actual travel blog), bitched about Ambanis (plural thanks to Rafale), Modiji, Congress, Bollywood,
Nepotism, and NRC as we made our way through dark, almost uninhabited hills (I
guess I am biased having seen Mumbai hills filled with light) to my hotel on
the MG road, right beside the mighty Brahmaptura river (which I couldn't see of course because it was the night but hey Google maps FTW).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Hotel,
check-in and BED! Nothing like being naked and swiping people on Tinder with the
Geyser on. Talk, dark, exotic South Indian should have so takers right? You see, getting to Gauhati wasn’t tough. It wasn’t easy either. Did
I tell you I broke up (for the umpteenth time in my life) when I left Bombay?
Fuck, I WANT TO CRY. BYE.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Nevinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07046628275624256612noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6929739846219436250.post-67799043829654405742017-12-16T15:40:00.001+05:302017-12-16T15:40:31.836+05:30Fire-Play<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Nevinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07046628275624256612noreply@blogger.com0Varanasi, Uttar Pradesh, India25.3176452 82.97391440000001225.0879947 82.651190900000017 25.547295700000003 83.296637900000007tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6929739846219436250.post-21697718110866049072017-02-22T13:41:00.000+05:302017-02-22T13:45:21.289+05:30Why is Teesta green?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Ever wondered why the river Teesta </span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">(also spelt Tista)</span><span style="font-family: trebuchet ms, sans-serif;"> is so green? Brahmaputra's largest tributary and a major tourist attraction in West Bengal and Sikkim, the river's emerald-green colour is common sight for anyone making his/her way to Sikkim or its other North East sisters (the Coronation bridge is built over Teesta in Siliguri). But why is it so uncannily green unlike other rivers in India? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I do not know myself, and in South India (where I come from) I've only seen similar coloured water in lakes formed in rock quarries. At Dzongu (a village in North Sikkim), a native (belonging to the Lepcha tribe who have been ruling the mountains since 13th century) told me it could be river reflecting the lush green wildlife alongside the river. But we have evergreen, tropical forests in Kerala and yet, never have I seen such a green river. So I went through a lot of articles and blog posts about rivers, Teesta and Sikkim and here are three reasons that could possibly explain the mystery green.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><b>1) Algae and pollen (likely)</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNMnr7XKqI3ASnGHsf1Ggo3tO0aHd_f3UgSGAY5SWl7Qe1lluEPejAZUPPKOFpXxHa81IcwO1qyudRTzRBRteq1OKNYuhKENleQb8abFMZIGVwZkZUZriibTi1e2cPR2PMWV-SoCwyevk/s1600/green+pool.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNMnr7XKqI3ASnGHsf1Ggo3tO0aHd_f3UgSGAY5SWl7Qe1lluEPejAZUPPKOFpXxHa81IcwO1qyudRTzRBRteq1OKNYuhKENleQb8abFMZIGVwZkZUZriibTi1e2cPR2PMWV-SoCwyevk/s320/green+pool.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px; text-align: center;">Yikes! Green water at the Rio Olympics.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Remember Rio Olympics and how the athletes got a shock when they found the pools green instead of the customary blue? Certain blue-green algae tend to change the colour of water and is known to thrive when there's less chlorine in the water (which is what happened to the Rio pools when a contractor poured bleaching powder). But my research about Sikkim's water bodies did not tell me why algae content could be higher there as compared to any other part of India. Algae growth is common in still water (swimming pools and aquariums being examples we can relate to) and considering what I saw on my way to Gangtok, the presence of umpteen dams could have slowed down the flow of the river, thereby aiding the growth of Algae.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><b>2) Limestone and Dolomite (less likely)</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMCQWtE3aridDzfPUrsyeBPWVEgmoWBbwgB1AMSCt3tjOSFX9qLbCY8vAGYfgb0fQVK1Ft8PCdSBmSinIqCO-PZBAMkKn2UlkWt-MI6gkJ4B4qW3mtsjCZ-PN9zUQjpeZR8tveanqFwyQ/s1600/Sikkim+mines.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="79" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMCQWtE3aridDzfPUrsyeBPWVEgmoWBbwgB1AMSCt3tjOSFX9qLbCY8vAGYfgb0fQVK1Ft8PCdSBmSinIqCO-PZBAMkKn2UlkWt-MI6gkJ4B4qW3mtsjCZ-PN9zUQjpeZR8tveanqFwyQ/s320/Sikkim+mines.PNG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px; text-align: center;">Limestone in water makes it look like lime juice?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Rangit (Rangeet) valley of Sikkim\West Bengal is rich in Limestone and Dolomite, and these minerals are known to give water a green-blue tinge. While the Rangit river is one of Teesta's largest tributary, the two only meet somewhere near Kalimpong in West Bengal. And Rangit has a different green (much darker) as compared the blueish colour that Teesta has in Sikkim.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><b>3) Rock flour (most likely)</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpJSq4_-CUiWoZZN9CnSQZQ7fB3fKvB1DyHCYEl0zOSQTwMggKRjWEJr_tEshmWFH10fOO_8Lj9mfHKzXu8HS7XwVhTuDgotG7oj4kXKhTddKb1WKyK-0Hdm2IbaodhHJY31zeJQ7au-w/s1600/IMG_20170215_231401_786.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; font-family: "Times New Roman"; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpJSq4_-CUiWoZZN9CnSQZQ7fB3fKvB1DyHCYEl0zOSQTwMggKRjWEJr_tEshmWFH10fOO_8Lj9mfHKzXu8HS7XwVhTuDgotG7oj4kXKhTddKb1WKyK-0Hdm2IbaodhHJY31zeJQ7au-w/s320/IMG_20170215_231401_786.jpg" width="256" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Why so green, Teesta?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The most likely explanation to the green colour is the presence of 'rock flour' which can be defined as </span><span style="background-color: #fff9e3; color: #242729; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 15px;"><a href="http://www.mountainnature.com/geology/MountainLakes.htm">fine-grained, silt-sized particles of rock, generated by mechanical grinding of bedrock</a>.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">When the sediments enter a river, they turn the river's colour grey, light brown, iridescent blue-green, or milky white because the suspended material distorts the wavelengths of light, reflecting back more of the green and blue end of the spectrum. This happens to a lot of rivers that originate from glacier melt which explains the difference in colour to rivers I've seen in Kerala, which are all rain-fed. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">That also explains the white colour of Alokananda river or the greenish-white shade of Beas (two glacier fed rivers I've traced in my journies). All said, it is a combination of all three factor that gives Teesta the unique emerald-green colour.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
Nevinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07046628275624256612noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6929739846219436250.post-19171477258060802412016-09-09T19:42:00.001+05:302016-09-09T19:42:37.789+05:30The ghost of Tanay Apte<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKxrMqpyMZIS8ubveK8nmNwrpCE0bTKkqfBwsIlClPe0txrItgYRAXERiG-3vfPFutOrngv15nYe0sJFi6O40_edboJsy6Zu9v6epx9hRWSzkq6G0Xj8jLhU-CHGaUhbEzx9feEcxrrtE/s1600/floating+bw.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="408" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKxrMqpyMZIS8ubveK8nmNwrpCE0bTKkqfBwsIlClPe0txrItgYRAXERiG-3vfPFutOrngv15nYe0sJFi6O40_edboJsy6Zu9v6epx9hRWSzkq6G0Xj8jLhU-CHGaUhbEzx9feEcxrrtE/s640/floating+bw.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">They say the ghost of Tanay Apte still haunts the corridors of the Hindu building.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
Nevinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07046628275624256612noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6929739846219436250.post-28468955456269619382016-08-06T06:14:00.000+05:302016-08-06T06:14:32.994+05:30Horsely Hills - A solo journey <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Recently updated my Instagram page with photographs from my solo bike journey to Horsley hills located in the South Indian state of Andhra Pradesh. Please check them out and let me know your feedback.<br />
<br />
Will also be updating the blog on my experiences at the hill station. Stay tuned.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://www.instagram.com/nevinpowers7/"><img alt="https://www.instagram.com/nevinpowers7/" border="0" height="397" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQlM36kUuNxyUohr2CAjCngHEz5ocxkcZjt364uKb3rVO0dQXNEHXuyOPFcSjrp4J0T-6saDvHbN0MnmxW-hhsV0lDBTLRw7cPGtasLAgDorEfkLHmgAQ7mkS7gGtivPCJB8ZKfEV-6SY/s400/insta.png" width="400" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
Nevinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07046628275624256612noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6929739846219436250.post-70706982943281216892016-02-12T16:01:00.002+05:302016-02-12T16:48:22.976+05:30Finding KSS<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">No, this is not a story of searching for Sugarman. Neither is
it a story of a clown fish on his way back home. I do not know who Mr. KSS is. In fact I can't even guess how many KSSs exist in the city of Chennai itself.<br />
<br />
It all started with a second-hand book that I picked up on my way to work. I
usually get down a stop prior to the one right in front on my office (that's my
daily walk) and there are a couple of book shops in the stretch. I usually pick
up something light to read, mostly Indian authors I haven't really heard that
much about. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">On one such occasion, I happened to pick a copy of a book
titled 'The Joy of Living and Dying in Peace' by His Holiness Dalai Lama. Not
that I'm sucker for for these motivation, 'keep calm' books but well, it would
be great to reach a chapter or two when things aren't really working out (which
is always). Or so I had thought.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">As expected, I did not open the book for a very long time.
So yes, technically the story doesn't really start there. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The company provides a drop on nights when we have to stay
back for work. On my first day after shifting to Kodambakkam (from Vadapalani),
I was put in a car with a different set of people, mostly old and grumpy, who
thought (still think) I am a misfit for the organisation. In the ride back
home, nobody uttered a word. Like nothing. Just silence till I reached home. I've been through some awkward moments in my life
and these rides began topping the chart.<br />
<br />
The patterend followed in the days to come until one fine day Mr. Prabhakar, who
always sits in the front seat said, "Does XXXX (I wasn't really listening)
stay in your building? He used to work with us."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />
I replied that I had just recently moved in and that I didn't know my
neighbours. Mr. Prabhakar nodded in approval.<br />
<br />
Next day he asked again. Again way too abruptly that I missed the name. But not
wanting to sound too bad I said I had enquired to my maid and she didn't know.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br />Couple of days later, when the cab driver asked where I had to be dropped, Mr. Prabhakar
butted in. "XXXs house."<br />
<br />
Again I missed the name. </span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I have a history of bad hearing anyway. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>Yes, I agree by now, most of you must have figured out the
name. But that's not how the story progressed. And hey, this is my story, so listen. </i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I wanted to make amends for earlier lies. So I
did actually ask my maid and my neighbour. Both didn't know about anyone who
worked for The Hindu. But atleast I had an answer to tell Mr. Prabhakar. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Meanwhile, I had spotted the Dalai Lama book while cleaning
the shelf. I decided to open it. The book had been a dedication by an
employee named Sudha to her boss Mr. KSS. I wondered why someone would gift a
book to a boss. That too one on joy of living and dying in peace. Was the chap
not well? Was he going through so major crisis in life? Were they secret
couples who couldn't come together? Or like Rinan pointed out on Instagram
later when I put the picture up, did the book ever reach KSS? Why did he throw
it away?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyt1crRbLa1rluzv_zNP7iRP5FGAEMy951xgsG6BEDrHtM2nsNmikcE-kBeemR44wcRGV9kB1E_n9weWUiF0pMaEMzX-onef9roxz640DtKZHS7fIv4_E_lPualJOZwVTwdTjOsASlx-M/s1600/IMG_20160211_120512.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyt1crRbLa1rluzv_zNP7iRP5FGAEMy951xgsG6BEDrHtM2nsNmikcE-kBeemR44wcRGV9kB1E_n9weWUiF0pMaEMzX-onef9roxz640DtKZHS7fIv4_E_lPualJOZwVTwdTjOsASlx-M/s320/IMG_20160211_120512.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">That's the beauty of second hand books, isn't it? You are
not just reading a story, you are catching a piece of history. The tale of what
all the book has seen, where all it has been, is a grand story in itself.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Anyway my quest to find Mr. XXX took a sudden shift two days
back. I was walking into my building when a neighbour stopped me and asked me
who I was. I told him I had recently moved in and that I work for The Hindu.
He looked at his wife and asked, "Didn't Subramaniam work at the same
place?"</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I was stunned. So Mr. Prabhakar was right. Someone from The
Hindu was there in our society. It was like proving Einstein's prediction on
gravitational waves. I was happy but didn't really know why I was. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I asked the stranger if I could meet Mr. Subramaniam. But as
fate would have it, our hero had sold his house three months and shifted to
another place. Nobody really knows why or where. Out of curiousty I took down
Mr. Subramaniam's number. I really was sure I wouldn't call him.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5Oar1PzjBgH2rRCPYLOBF6ltuSIFdg9FpRFYGWTtJsck8hcLAgKTYl5mJtf4DabDi9IhvCz7uRBNoBMh9-BqH19yz9v-f8kP1687UXV3zGyHVqItUQ2B1yq8PxQ0twXNyMtAbtc4Q4kQ/s1600/IMG_20160211_221432.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5Oar1PzjBgH2rRCPYLOBF6ltuSIFdg9FpRFYGWTtJsck8hcLAgKTYl5mJtf4DabDi9IhvCz7uRBNoBMh9-BqH19yz9v-f8kP1687UXV3zGyHVqItUQ2B1yq8PxQ0twXNyMtAbtc4Q4kQ/s320/IMG_20160211_221432.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">That night in the car I told Mr. Prabhakar that I had found
about this person called Subramaniam who used to work for The Hindu. He
replied: "I told you KSS used to live in the building, right?" </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Wait. What? Rewind. "I told you KSS used to live in the
building right?" </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Did I just hear that correctly? "Did you just tell
KSS sir?"<br />
<br />
"Yes, K. S. Subramaniam. But in office everyone called him KSS. There are
way too many Subramaniams at The Hindu", he said. <br />
<br />
Damn! Was this KSS that KSS? I had picked this book up from a second-hand shop
quite close to the office. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Was he trying to wash away his sins by selling the
damn book? Na, too evil! Did he leave stuff behind when he had retired?
Possible. Or did a frustrated Sudha just give the book away? </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5Oar1PzjBgH2rRCPYLOBF6ltuSIFdg9FpRFYGWTtJsck8hcLAgKTYl5mJtf4DabDi9IhvCz7uRBNoBMh9-BqH19yz9v-f8kP1687UXV3zGyHVqItUQ2B1yq8PxQ0twXNyMtAbtc4Q4kQ/s1600/IMG_20160211_221432.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><br /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">We human beings like a story don't we? Cooking up stuff when
it isn't probably that complicated. Anyway, I didn't call Mr. KSS. What do I tell
him? That I have his book? </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Oh, I almost forgot. I met a Sudha. She works at the
Editorial department. </span></div>
</div>
Nevinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07046628275624256612noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6929739846219436250.post-41544546493105206022015-12-27T15:42:00.000+05:302015-12-27T15:42:18.304+05:30Conversation with Kobe Bryant<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhugVWYwJGNbkhanXLjb5I29sjyJPqf4sMoxmmd_vdRf3BhP2JLQ8G3cb_XTQxXKsERIwNSv2N4WS2IKRYGZ20hBiZm4ZNloysd9LR8-S7CxutNmg_1IabMV9C4lzWvD1JmmoFHKKBQBfw/s1600/Kobe-Bryant-LA-Lakers-Wallpaper-HD.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhugVWYwJGNbkhanXLjb5I29sjyJPqf4sMoxmmd_vdRf3BhP2JLQ8G3cb_XTQxXKsERIwNSv2N4WS2IKRYGZ20hBiZm4ZNloysd9LR8-S7CxutNmg_1IabMV9C4lzWvD1JmmoFHKKBQBfw/s640/Kobe-Bryant-LA-Lakers-Wallpaper-HD.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">With five
NBA championships, 17 NBA All-Star selections, an NBA MVP, and two Olympic gold
medals with Team USA, there
is no doubting Los Angeles
star Kobe Bryant’s legacy on the basketball court. The ‘Black Mamba’ will play
a record-breaking 16<sup>th</sup> career Christmas Day game when the
Lakers host the L.A. Clippers. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">He is often
compared to NBA legends like Michael Jordan, who also plied his trade as a
shooting guard, and Lakers legend Magic Johnson. But Bryant, a polarizing
figure in the world of basketball, <a href="http://bigstory.ap.org/article/738014ff228d4aef8ae10d7f0e7a9252/kobe-bryant-hero-or-villain-or-both">‘hero
and a villain’ according to his own admission to the Associated Press</a>, likes
to look at his own legacy from a different perspective. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I try to look at my legacy and how it impacts the future of
the game. I'm not looking at my legacy from the standpoint of where I fit in
with the greatest of all time. For me, it's a moot point and a shallow
argument. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I think the most important thing and the most beautiful
thing is how does your legacy impact the generation of players to come? If
what I've done and what I've stood for these 20 years has impacted the
players today and the players tomorrow in a positive way,
in a way they can then carry that legacy on themselves and impact the
generation to follow, that's much more significant than where I stand in
history," said Bryant during a conference call on Monday night.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">An Olympic finish</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Kobe’s
form for the Lakers has been sporadic this season, much like the rest of the squad.
The Los Angeles-based team are 5-24 this season and for Kobe,
a place in the USA
team for the Rio 2016 Olympics is far from guaranteed. But the two-time Olmpyic
gold medallist refuses to be bothered about it, though he conceded that a place
in the Olympics team would be an ideal way to end a glittering career. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“It's not something I'm absolutely pressing for but being
part of the Olympic experience is a beautiful thing. It would be a
beautiful thing to finish my career playing internationally. But that being
said, we will see how it goes,” said the Lakers’ shooting guard, who has also
featured as a small forward in his final season in NBA.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Post-retirement plans</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
Kobe’s father Joe Bryant was a professional
basketball player himself and played for NBA sides Philadelphia
76ers and San Diego Clippers before moving to Italy to play in the Italian A1
League. Kobe was six when the family relocated
to Europe in 1984 and returned to America only when his father
retired in 1991. There he learned to speak fluent Italian and play football. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But NBA history’s third highest point scorer ruled out any
possibility of him moving to another league. “I would have loved to have played
overseas for a season but it's not going to happen. I wish I could have done it
but I can’t. My body won't let me.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
However, the legend hopes he can continue to contribute to
the development of the game in all ways possible. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I definitely plan on helping the game spread
and helping kids all around the world understand kind of the metaphors that
come along with the game ... everything that surrounds the game of basketball,"
said Bryant.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Regardless of the team’s performance, Kobe
is upbeat about his final season in the NBA, especially after a few a
characteristic swashbuckling performances including a 31 pointer against Denver on Wednesday. “My
body has been through a lot. And it's very easy to forget I haven't played
because of it. My timing is off, my rhythm is off. It was about me continuing
my training and believing my timing will come back and that's what happened,"
added Bryant.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When the Lakers take on the Clippers on Christmas day, all
eyes will be again be on what Kobe Bryant can conjure on the court. A pressure
he has continuously carried on his shoulders with pride. They say heroes come
and go, but legends remain forever. The ‘Black Mamba’ might be retiring at the
end of the on-going season, but one can be assured that the song of his
dynamism and determination on the basketball court will continue to be sung for
a long time. <br /><a href="http://www.sportstarlive.com/basketball/kobes-five-lakers-legend-reveals-top-5-players/article8021891.ece">Kobe's Five: Check out who Bryant thinks were the best he played against.</a></div>
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Nevinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07046628275624256612noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6929739846219436250.post-19203050504965075272015-12-27T14:28:00.000+05:302015-12-27T14:28:34.733+05:30THE CURIOUS CASE OF INDIAN FOOTBALL<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<b>How a Mohun Bagan victory could be a cause of joy for East
Bengal fans, their fiercest rivals.</b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-zN_0iTwrVOBaMTejXh0d6SOeMNdQMl271phtxQAPnmSiBGCFOAyIPDK3Lkm2ESzU8fxKk-xvtdoBSLAEus1o23OuHHoS2PPvuIpGLmlIVBB-u0sRizR3ya25LqXjjMQzNSyDHaUaPNap/s1600/east-bengal-fans4_article_590.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="388" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-zN_0iTwrVOBaMTejXh0d6SOeMNdQMl271phtxQAPnmSiBGCFOAyIPDK3Lkm2ESzU8fxKk-xvtdoBSLAEus1o23OuHHoS2PPvuIpGLmlIVBB-u0sRizR3ya25LqXjjMQzNSyDHaUaPNap/s1600/east-bengal-fans4_article_590.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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It is very difficult to sum up what Indian Football is today.
On one side is the Indian Super League — the answer to country's footballing
woes as some predicted. The glamour and the star-studded line-ups were supposed
to bring a huge change in the mindset of a cricket loving nation and kick-start
a new culture of embracing other sports. On the other side is the I-League,
supposedly India's number one professional men's football league, in complete
disarray following the <a href="http://www.sportstarlive.com/football/indian-football/ileague-exodus-continues-as-wahingdoh-pull-out/article7904172.ece" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">withdrawals of three major clubs</span>.</a>
With sponsorships hard to find and the All India Football Federation (AIFF)
failing to give assurances on the future of the league, the clubs are facing a crisis situation
heading into 2015-16 season. And somewhere lost in between the tug of war is a
national football team, that has seen its matches being reduced and its FIFA
rankings dilly-dally. Let's break that
down — 12 matches played in 2010, 20 in 2011, 11 in 2012, 12 in 2013, two in
2014 (ISL begins) and nine so far and three more to go in 2015. 12 isn't a bad
number (compared to previous years) but one must not forget that eight came via
World Cup qualifiers (AIFF can't screw that up) and another three to come are
the SAFF games. Which means we have had a mammoth ONE international friendly in
2015. </div>
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Amidst all the chaos, an interesting story has developed in
the heart of Kolkata, the Mecca of football in the country. According to the
rule books (such a thing apparently does exist), if the country's top club
(I-League toppers and not ISL) qualifies for the ACL (AFC Champions League)
then the 3rd place team earns a place in the AFC Cup play-offs. Last year's
champions, Mohun Bagan will face off against Tampines Rovers (Singapore) on
January 27 for a berth in the Champions League. If they make the cut, then the
third placed team in last year's I-League, Royal Wahingdoh, earns a place on
the AFC Cup play-offs. But the Shilling-based have pulled out of the I-League,
which means East Bengal, the fourth placed side, will now stand a chance to
profit from Mohun Bagan's victory in the play-offs. <br />
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The irony is so twisted that it would force a smile out of even the most
fanatic football fan. AIFF continues to be Shakespeare, periodically producing
drama (mostly when there isn't a need for it). Last year, the most successful
team in I-League history, Dempo FC , got chucked out of the I-League (relegated
being the key word used) because a lower placed team Bharat FC had earned
themselves a guaranteed stay virtue of being a corporate team. But earlier this
year, Bharat FC pulled out the league citing financial reasons. Yes, AIFF
kicked out a historic team to ensure a corporate culture in football. And the team packed off after a few months. Ah,
that bittersweet after-taste of irony!</div>
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Nevinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07046628275624256612noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6929739846219436250.post-57970050857083507472015-12-26T17:59:00.002+05:302015-12-26T17:59:34.144+05:30There is another depression brewing in Chennai and nobody wants to talk about it<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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In the last 48 hours, I’ve seen every News channel in the country claim they were the first to break the news on the Chennai floods. They often forget they were 2 weeks and 200 lives late. But here is another chance to be first at something and actually make a small (and maybe significant) change in our lives as we battle through this man-made ‘natural’ calamity. </div>
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I’m sure you have heard of the mighty stories of the people of Chennai. Risking their own lives, to save others’. Let me re-instate, the city and its people have been nothing short of extra-ordinary. But what you don’t realise is that most of us are quite close to, for the lack of a better word, depression. We don’t know what to do. I’m a bachelor and new to the city. I hardly know anyone here. Yet if I am feeling this way, shocked and angered, I can only imagine what it must be for the people who have been here for long and have deep rooted connections. I haven’t gone home for a week now, and I am an affluent, privileged being in this city. One can only imagine how terrible it must be for all the poor who can’t afford to run away from the city or go to second floor their house doesn't have. And we don’t know what to look forward to. The rain has not stopped yet (I saw a lot of Facebook status saying it has, maybe you should come to the city?). And many experts reckon, things will only get worse. Water will be contaminated, dead animals will pile up on streets. We don’t know what awaits us in the coming few months. </div>
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There is a sense of hate, an anger that fails to find an epi-centre, brewing up inside me and a lot of people I know. </div>
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I hate it when people send un-verified whatsapp messages of a 1000 numbers and another 1000 links. Your concern is great, after all you took the pain forward a message, but I honestly am beginning to give zero fucks. Also mobile networks are down, so I don’t know why the fuck it is important to forward messages saying Vodafone and BSNL are giving freebies. WE DONT CARE!</div>
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I am angry when people call. People I haven’t talked to in ages. I don’t want to answer your calls. I don’t want to repeat the horror stories to a million people, so that you can relay it to your social followers, get a like (or two maybe) and mark me safe on Facebook.</div>
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I get pissed when people from the other states message me about drop points for food and clothes. I know group messages are convenient, but why the fuck are you marking the Chennai lot also on your messages? PLEASE STOP.</div>
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I hate it when people ask me to go away from the city! And then what? Feel awesome to know people whom I have learned to love are having a candle lit dinner wearing life jackets? </div>
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Don’t tell me not to be grumpy, when I respond with an OK to your 52 messages on what do and whom to call. I might just lose it completely.</div>
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What you seem to forget is that all isn’t well here. You constantly hear horror stories — of deaths, of near deaths, of corrupt police officials charging thousands for a boat ride, of camps refusing lower caste people to enter. These stories are endless but your national media doesn’t wanna listen to them. Stop building a hero story out of Chennai. It’s a fucking disaster when a human has to die saving others. Not a hero story. Politicians and the social media using Chennai as an example of ‘tolerance’ are stooping to all-time lows. Infact, citizen should show no tolerance to such pathetic human beings who continue to sell our lives for a quick buck.</div>
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I am fuming and I know I am better off than 99% people in Chennai (and let’s not forget Kanchipuram and Cuddalore). There is a side of me trying to make sense of what is happening around me. But this has gone on for quite a long time now. I am frustrated and I want to scream at the top of my fucking voice.</div>
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All this has destroyed us in Chennai. Yes we fight on, but that doesn’t mean we aren’t scarred. Doesn’t mean our minds aren’t affected. This is a nightmare and with food and shelter, we also need some mental help. Or fucking send us pills will you, because a lot of people around me need it to sleep . Smiles have disappeared from most of our lives. So dear media, here is the chance to be first at something. Talk about mental health. Talk about how to beat / cope with this terrible catastrophe. I don’t know shit about mental health and never been bothered about it till today. Get a shrink to talk about what to do maybe? Stop milking publicity out of a disaster and start doing something sensible? Yes CNN IBN, we heard it the last ten thousand times that you were the first. We also appreciate how you confused the people and made them tweet to your channel’s hashtag on twitter. Just remember something, a lot of people need help. And it’s not just food, shelter and pity.</div>
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Nevinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07046628275624256612noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6929739846219436250.post-1104058992811555322015-09-14T09:54:00.002+05:302018-05-14T18:33:54.921+05:30Home<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="background-color: white;">He had come to the end of his journey. Sitting there, on the stairs that led to his old room upstairs, he thought about Vasudevan uncle. The German-born Malayali, who had rented out a space on top of his house for 22 years. 22 years. The ‘tenant’, who spent his entire life unsuccessfully convincing visiting foreigners that all vegetables could grow in water, had stayed longer with his parents than he ever did in life time. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">The aluminium railings, quite fashionable thing to do in the 90s, still had not lost its sheen. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">He could sense a pain developing, ever so slightly, in his chest, and took a long breath before resuming his way upwards.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">‘What was home?’ he wondered again.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">He had hoped to find the answer, locked somewhere safely, at the place where it all began — Kochi. A place he constantly referred to as ‘home’. At least in conversations and CVs, he thought on his drive from the airport.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">But walking through the dimly lit rooms of his ancestral house, he still remained as clueless as ever. Only more questions. And disturbingly, more revelations — things he could not undo. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">He could feel the guilt piling up in his heart with each step…</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">Every sight, every smell, bombarded his grey brains with colourful memories of the past. The house was the forgotten palette after the masterpiece was drawn.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">He wanted to smile. But his lips refused to twitch. His old guitar was still in the corner, one string missing. A shabbily done glass painting, perhaps inspired by the early Biennales, carefully placed between the window panes — a reflection of his confused self in a family that was always liked to be organised.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">He was 21 when ‘dreams’ had lured to him to Bombay, the city, according to many, that never sleeps. He laughed at the irony of it. “Dreaming without sleeping,” he mumbled. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">Twenty years back, the politicians in the country, used to sing about dreams. Not about water or climate change like things they should have. Not religious fantaticism. Best sellers were forged on people who left everything they had to chase their ‘destiny’. Heroes were made out of people who ‘achieved’ their dreams by sacrificing everything in the lives. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">‘Thieves’, he cursed, as he dusted an old rolling stones magazine neatly stacked on the cupboard next to the blue-coloured washroom. He had come to hate the world for its false advertisements. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">“Dreams are dreams. Reality check!” — words on his office door back at San Francisco.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">It was this idea of a dream, the pressure to reach a position in the society, to pop up in a Google search, be known by his surname, that had pushed him away from everything he ever loved. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">He missed being called by his first name. He missed guilt-free, selfless, honest love. He missed the sincere smiles. He was scared of intimacy back then. Now he was scarred by the lack of it.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">He had somehow expected the water to be leaking from the shower when he opened the ‘blue bathroom’ door. It wasn’t. His father, the last inhabitant of the house, had called at least 20 different plumbers to get the shower checked. But mysteriously, no one could ever find the solution. Some of those unexplained things people don’t mind, while they went on bigger quests to find water on Mars or whatever caused that Big Bang. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">Some time in high school, heightened years of sexual frustration, Nandu had a theory for the big bang. A vagina, unable to hold on to the profound universal stimulation, yielding to a never ending orgasm…</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">It surprised how the visuals of Big Bang were so vivid in his mind. He hated how the world had given up on the idea of ‘simple pleasures’. A phrase first told to him by Aditi. She had photographed a man sticking his head out of a moving Mumbai local. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">Following his departure from the house, his younger brother shifted to another country. Mother stood up for her rights shortly afterwards and moved to a different house in her hometown. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">It was about the time CERN had announced their big project called the ‘large hadron collider’ – to collide protons at an incredible pace and unravel the truths of the universe. Only thing that did break at that time, though, was his nuclear family.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">‘But was this home?’ he thought again, as he looked at the sofa set that must have been only 5 years younger than he was. Yes, this was the place he grew up. This was the city he had always loved.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">Everything about the place had a story to remind him. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">Yet, he was reminded of something his mother had said, when he was leaving to college for the first time. “Home is not a place. It is a state of your mind. Carry it in your head at all times and you will never feel alone.” </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">He had disregarded it by tagging it a standard ‘mother statement’ to make. It probably was one too, he thought, as he took out a cigarette. The view from the balcony had changed so much. Big buildings had devoured the surroundings now. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">When he wanted, he could not see…</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">He dialed the number of the real estate agency and set up a meeting at five. At his age, he didn’t want to believe in the idea of a phsyical home anymore. The memories were already planted in his head. Home was just an idea, a figment of imagination. that he carried in his head. The building, the little garden… all mere artifacts of a larger story. Home was the smell of fresh milk pedas his father used to bring from the Milma outlet. Home was his mother’s warm embrace. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">He thought about Nishtha. How hugging her, in that tiny little room at Andheri, overlooking the airport, he had felt at home. A sense of peace that he madly wanted to reclaim.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">He informed his brother the decision to sell the house. He could sense the disappointment in his brother’s voice. “But it made no sense to keep it,” he had argued. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">The sun was just setting but the evening birds were missing. Something about the place wasn’t home. This was just a reminder of what home was… Of life choices and decisions…</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">He took one big puff and threw another cigarette away. The pain in his chest had strangely subsided.</span></div>
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Nevinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07046628275624256612noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6929739846219436250.post-55000893214678891622015-08-17T11:13:00.003+05:302015-08-17T11:13:57.627+05:30Viswanathan Anand Fan Poster<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Nevinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07046628275624256612noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6929739846219436250.post-47343187447657119132015-08-16T17:06:00.000+05:302015-08-16T17:06:34.875+05:30Fan Posters: Bergkamp, Sachin, Sanga<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Nevinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07046628275624256612noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6929739846219436250.post-1988171364323722772015-08-09T19:31:00.000+05:302015-08-09T19:31:11.863+05:30Ice Sticks<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<h4 style="text-align: left;">
Introduction paragraph from my the thesis on Sevens Football in Kerala.</h4>
<br />
<div style="background: white; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="color: #222222; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">It all began with ice sticks<a href="file:///C:/Users/ADMIN/Downloads/redisseratation/redisseratation/MA_NevinThomas_MC017.docx#_ftn1" name="_ftnref1" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">[1]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></a>.
Colourful, multi flavoured ice cubes on a stick that my father used to buy when
he took my brother and I to the local football tournaments at the St. George
High School ground at Edappally (Kochi). There used to be plenty of such
tournaments when I was growing up. I still remember vaguely, the final of Nehru
Cup International Football Tournament in 1997 played between India and Iraq at
the Jawaharlal Nehru stadium at Kaloor (Kochi). In the overcrowded stadium, my
father had still managed to get us red ice sticks.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="color: #222222; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 150%;">The love for football,
beyond the ice sticks, started developing in school, when I would spend
afternoons playing the game with friends. Back at home, people still remember
how I used to come back from school. Uniforms dirty, I would kick a stone all
the way from the bus stop to my house, taking an hour to complete what was
otherwise a very short walk home. I initially started as a goalkeeper for my
school team, but by class 12, I had played in most positions, though I enjoyed
playing in the midfield<a href="file:///C:/Users/ADMIN/Downloads/redisseratation/redisseratation/MA_NevinThomas_MC017.docx#_ftn2" name="_ftnref2" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">[2]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></a> the most. The love for
football runs in the family. Growing up, my brother and I used to look forward
to the weekend football matches to renew the sibling rivalry. I am an ardent
fan of Chelsea Football club and still makes it a point to watch every match.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8v2_xvU5L1cWoc9Tnb37MTZvK945g3CLwKTsaNZS4ZoqcCX14NNfUE4Afgdu8X5WyEIR2jcncHCqGCbkd42mGL_tJTO1_BsuTZPtF1zZKakSK56dosnFvrBOORD3QYkwuk6n3ln8qlKw/s1600/IMG_4569.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8v2_xvU5L1cWoc9Tnb37MTZvK945g3CLwKTsaNZS4ZoqcCX14NNfUE4Afgdu8X5WyEIR2jcncHCqGCbkd42mGL_tJTO1_BsuTZPtF1zZKakSK56dosnFvrBOORD3QYkwuk6n3ln8qlKw/s640/IMG_4569.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="color: #222222; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><span class="apple-converted-space"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="color: #222222; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 150%;">One of the biggest
sorrow while growing up was how there was very little football within the
country that one could watch or support. It was very surprising how India, with
its large population, failed to have a football team capable of competing in
the FIFA World Cup. Barring cricket, was there no sports we Indians could excel
in? Even with hockey, the team was steadily losing its status as a super power.
What was going wrong with sports in India?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="color: #222222; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 150%;">I felt there was a need
to understand the reasons behind this from an academic perspective. Every time
the country failed to produce medals in a sporting event like Olympics, there
is a lot of criticism in the air, with everyone pointing the fingers at the
other. While it is often attributed to the monopolistic madness about cricket
that haunts the country, there are other reasons too, such as the inability of
the sports ministry to execute plans and encourage sports in the country. It
was clear that there was a need to understand the socio-economic
characteristics attached to every game in the country before discussing a
possible solution. Hence, when the opportunity came for picking up a topic for
research in my post-graduation, I could not look further than sports and
particularly football in Kerala, where I come from. The idea though, was
somewhere born in the head of a kid who missed his days watching football,
chewing ice sticks.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="color: #222222;">Football or soccer is a sport that is played between two
teams of eleven players with a ball. Only the goalkeepers<a href="file:///C:/Users/ADMIN/Downloads/redisseratation/redisseratation/MA_NevinThomas_MC017.docx#_ftn3" name="_ftnref3" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">[3]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></a> can touch the ball with
the hand while it is in play. The game is played with a spherical ball on a
rectangular field with two goal posts at either end. </span><span style="color: #222222; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 150%;">I was introduced to the
idea of Sevens (Sevens players a side) football during my graduation days, by
friends from Malappuram. Like most of us from the city they were disappointed
with the lack of opportunity to see football at Kochi and told me how there
would be a Sevens match happening almost every day from where they come from. I
was very fascinated by this new form of a game that was not very popular in
central Kerala. How could there be a football tournament every single day? I
had always wanted to understand what had caused the demise of the football
tournaments and the once prominent teams like FC Cochin and Kerala Police. The
fact that Sevens was being played every day at Malappuram pushed me to
understand how they have managed to still carry on the tradition of football
while tournaments like the Chakolas cup have all stopped due to financial
problems. What was keeping this form of football alive? On top of this was a
fascination to learn the symbiotic relationship the people of Malabar shared
with football, even in a time when elsewhere in the state, the game was dipping
to an all time low.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="color: #222222; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Given the continuously
growing significance of sports, especially football, in the country, with FIFA<a href="file:///C:/Users/ADMIN/Downloads/redisseratation/redisseratation/MA_NevinThomas_MC017.docx#_ftn4" name="_ftnref4" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN;">[4]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></a> president Sepp Blatter
calling India "sleeping giants", a study on football in the state of
Kerala and the alternate form of the game called Sevens, becomes interesting
and relevant.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="color: #222222; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 150%;">I set out on the
journey with a lot of hope. Was Sevens a ray of hope for football in the state?
I thought an understanding of the game would help revive the lost declining
football and sports culture in the state. Almost an year into my research, I
understand things are not black and white as it had seemed earlier. While
Sevens football continues to thrive in the state, the question whether this is
the solution to rejuvenate football in the state, remains unanswered. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div>
<!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><br clear="all" />
<hr align="left" size="1" width="33%" />
<!--[endif]-->
<div id="ftn1">
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<a href="file:///C:/Users/ADMIN/Downloads/redisseratation/redisseratation/MA_NevinThomas_MC017.docx#_ftnref1" name="_ftn1" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-IN; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">[1]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></a><span lang="EN-US">Ice </span>sticks<span lang="EN-US"> are a summer treat made of ice and fruit
flavours. They are popularly known as Ice Candies. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div id="ftn2">
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<a href="file:///C:/Users/ADMIN/Downloads/redisseratation/redisseratation/MA_NevinThomas_MC017.docx#_ftnref2" name="_ftn2" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-IN; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">[2]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></a>Midfield
is a position in football. The players in these position tries to create goal
scoring opportunities for the team while also trying to prevent the other team
from scoring.<span lang="EN-US"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div id="ftn3">
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<a href="file:///C:/Users/ADMIN/Downloads/redisseratation/redisseratation/MA_NevinThomas_MC017.docx#_ftnref3" name="_ftn3" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-IN; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">[3]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></a>The
goalkeeper or popularly known as the goalie is a position in football. The role
of a goalie is to prevent the opposing team from scoring. He/she can
use their hands to stop the ball coming towards their goal post.<span lang="EN-US"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<div id="ftn4">
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<a href="file:///C:/Users/ADMIN/Downloads/redisseratation/redisseratation/MA_NevinThomas_MC017.docx#_ftnref4" name="_ftn4" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-IN; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IN; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">[4]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></a>The Fédération Internationale de Football
Association (FIFA)
or the International Federation of
Association Football,is the international governing body for
football.<span lang="EN-US"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
Nevinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07046628275624256612noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6929739846219436250.post-32954718147846615332015-03-28T20:26:00.003+05:302015-03-29T03:33:21.424+05:30The Selfie<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Sometimes you miss a photograph. Even some from journeys where you consciously make decisions to keep your camera away, in a bid to embrace the place with all your five senses open. Most of the times though, when you know the moment has gone forever from your clutches, taken away by the mysterious force that guards these special moments from being just another 'likeworthy' photograph on a social media platform, you start missing the photograph even more. What hurts me today is perhaps the sad realisation that I will not be returning to the hills this summer. And with that one particular photograph lay my opportunity to teleport myself to that tiny little town in the lap of the Himalayas. Albeit for a few seconds. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">It was raining as the bus reached reached Joshimat. The bus ride had lasted for more than 8 hours and my legs were beginning to wonder what its purpose was. I had somehow survived the tiny, dangerous roads from Rishikesh to Joshimat, fresh from the cloud burst that took away many lives. The ride through Dev Bhoomi is exhilarating yet can be painstakingly difficult if you are put next to a lady who pricks you with a safety pin each time you move your leg. Hence I was super excited when the bus conductor shouted out that we had reached Joshimat - the holy town everyone has to reach before people chose between Gods at Hemkhund and Badrinath. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">At around 5 a.m that morning I was given a shock welcome to bus rides in Garhwal. Having found no space in the bus to put my luggage (forget luggage, my immediate concern had been space for my own huge frame) I approached the driver for help. He merely pointed towards the top of the bus and continued his conversation with a baba. The journey to the top of the bus with a heavy bag was not fun, with gravity constantly trying to prove Newton right. Neither was the thought of leaving my camera bag on top. What if it would fall down to the valley 3000 feet below? What if it rained? What if there is a landslide? Sometimes on cold mornings at Rishikesh, your brain forgets to calculate the possibilities of say events such as your bus falling off the road. Your mind is only concerned about your camera or your possessions. Like how you would dive into dudhsagar waterfalls after removing your waterproof watch but completely forget the fact that you can't swim. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS1ota9YwXsV7C4RbFJxSUb4_vtTvIQFFuPohU9osgwJ_Dz4UKIp8EF-eghl1LPVDHVeXh_eTygM2l1issV6odzRnBS3JtpW-6c4KStC0QIA2IJchuFIUay5vfWI2K9lGGAv72zNFmJYg/s1600/IMG_5436.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS1ota9YwXsV7C4RbFJxSUb4_vtTvIQFFuPohU9osgwJ_Dz4UKIp8EF-eghl1LPVDHVeXh_eTygM2l1issV6odzRnBS3JtpW-6c4KStC0QIA2IJchuFIUay5vfWI2K9lGGAv72zNFmJYg/s1600/IMG_5436.jpg" height="390" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Joshimat</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5lSa2Zlih4Yhp8luVXbN5FDYrHYttutn-9VJegXN9_Nm_vnKCY1ImJKUD_UMGFY7fqs8atBg60Y7VxqDhNuEByvVD-DbLWvYBhzepZ_NOe2xLIDFhGR74nqGGRFRDa3ZdJ6zQVMbx7V8/s1600/IMG_5445.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a>Anyway at Joshimat, I had to climb on top of the bus again to get my bags. The problem with traveling in a bus that is not designed for someone your size is that you miss out on most of the view outside due to the window frame right in front of your eyes. It was on top of the bus that for the first time I got a full 360 view of the enchantingly beautiful town of Joshimat. The Elephant mountain overlooking a cloudy little town buzzing with the evening excitement. It had started to drizzle slightly and as I made my way towards my bag. Unable to resist the idea of capturing the moment and locking it in the pocket forever, I had taken out my mobile phone and yes, clicked a selfie. A hazy photograph. There my big head on the foreground, followed by an array of bags which gave away the fact that I was on top of a bus. And behind it, a series of snow clad mountains. <br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5lSa2Zlih4Yhp8luVXbN5FDYrHYttutn-9VJegXN9_Nm_vnKCY1ImJKUD_UMGFY7fqs8atBg60Y7VxqDhNuEByvVD-DbLWvYBhzepZ_NOe2xLIDFhGR74nqGGRFRDa3ZdJ6zQVMbx7V8/s1600/IMG_5445.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5lSa2Zlih4Yhp8luVXbN5FDYrHYttutn-9VJegXN9_Nm_vnKCY1ImJKUD_UMGFY7fqs8atBg60Y7VxqDhNuEByvVD-DbLWvYBhzepZ_NOe2xLIDFhGR74nqGGRFRDa3ZdJ6zQVMbx7V8/s1600/IMG_5445.jpg" height="400" width="640" /></a><br />Having jumped out of bus, I had looked at the photo one last time before I moved on to find a place to stay. That was probably the last time I saw the photograph. Some time during my journey back from Haridwar to Delhi, the memory card got corrupt. All the photos were lost. But that's the thing with nostalgia, they make even the tragedies sound nice. Today I miss the photograph. But maybe, it will just act as a motivation for me to do it all again. To visit the town, where I buried a small piece of my heart. Next time, in a better bus though. </span></div>
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Nevinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07046628275624256612noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6929739846219436250.post-84112161848556963692015-03-10T11:09:00.001+05:302015-03-10T11:09:40.614+05:30A class act<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Why go around the world in 80 days when 80 days can bring the world to you? 80 Days World Cuisine at Sanpada, possibly named after Jules Vernes' adventure novel, is the latest in the series of restaurants in Navi Mumbai that promises to offer the world on a plate.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">80 days has a classy look. The interiors are brightly lit and the furniture placement along with the large glass windows accentuate the sense of spaciousness. This is certainly not one of those restaurants where one has to jump over the table to make their way out. However, we found the table for three a little cramped, especially for people with plans to place multiple orders at the same time. There was also a big screen in the centre on the room showing cricket matches, which would be ideal for a sports bar but a slightly distracting for people looking for a quiet getaway. The music was upbeat with no particular choice of genre.</span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrTVEsyk2tEaqPML5n8HfWQ1bFaaIPAUq8ACpaJtSf3bXr-l1EXA5YBVkTManZ8Uy1zqgkAEVc-Pt2PRcbydqbu7GN9Q-rPNfah8pgZAASCLwIRhyphenhyphenB9qUZ-MPI6OBRQBla4L0uXmiJy94/s1600/22hotel-interior-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrTVEsyk2tEaqPML5n8HfWQ1bFaaIPAUq8ACpaJtSf3bXr-l1EXA5YBVkTManZ8Uy1zqgkAEVc-Pt2PRcbydqbu7GN9Q-rPNfah8pgZAASCLwIRhyphenhyphenB9qUZ-MPI6OBRQBla4L0uXmiJy94/s1600/22hotel-interior-1.jpg" height="422" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Image Source : Mid-day newspaper</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">We began our orders with the Warm Chicken Bruschetta (Rs 275). The plate arrived in quick time and the combination of chicken, cheese and rightly grilled bread works wonders in the mouth with its crispiness. After that we tried the Lasagna Verdure (Rs 375). The fine layers of Pasta and fresh vegetables topped with Mozzarella Cheese was perfectly cooked and the aroma got us excited for more. This was followed by the treat of the day, the Lebanese Flamed Grill Chicken (Rs 475). The chicken was grilled to perfection and was served with BBQ sauce, corn and potato wedges. We then proceeded to try the Medeterian Veg Gratin (Rs 525) which was a sumptuous addition to the meal. Freshly baked with creamy cheese, it served as a fairly appropriate main course dish.The Salted White Chocolate and Pistachio Brownie (Rs 225), showed that for 80 Days, the dessert is not just an afterthought. The pinch of salt adds a great flavour to the delicacy and every bite is an explosion of taste buds.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The service was quite pleasant though we were not particularly happy with being offered the most boring seats in the restaurant, right in the corner. They will size you up and then decide whether to give you the right seats. Either be frank and demand a better table or wear clothes that makes you look rich. We did neither. 80 Days World Cuisine offers great food from all over the world (barring Chinese maybe). Next time your heart craves for something delicious, don't go looking around the world for it, just rush to Navi Mumbai.</span></span></div>
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Nevinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07046628275624256612noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6929739846219436250.post-90017398763115475822015-01-17T19:37:00.001+05:302018-05-14T18:08:17.211+05:30Aeroplanes<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">All my life I have seen aeroplanes, heard them too. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Big ones, small ones, loud ones, not-so-loud ones. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I was at school, class 3 maybe, when Mr. Riyad passed away. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">His house, yes those tin shed ones, </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">had been blown away by the wind from an aeroplane. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Those aeroplanes I tell you, </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">they keep coming thick and fast here, here at Jari Mari. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Day and night they come,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: helvetica neue, arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">oblivious to the sun's way of things.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue", arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">And next to the Mithi we sit, as these angels approach the land, </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">and stare at the reflection growing in its size. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">See, whatever you might think, we cannot hate them. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Them, those aeroplanes, they make our lives.<br /><br />You see Sir, like you, we have dreams too. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue", arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Humble as it might seem, big it most definitely is. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue", arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue", arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">No we are not 'anti development' as you like to call us. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue", arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">And certainly no, we don't protect thieves here. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue", arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">At least not as much as you do in your homes. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue", arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue", arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">We have humble dreams here, Sir. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue", arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Built around one of man's greatest invention. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br />Oh we want to fly, Sir. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">On an aeroplane. Touch the sky and breath fresh air. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">See our homes shimmering on a summer noon. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">See the rain bounce off the same roofs. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">All on an aeroplane. To feel it. To love it. To caress its wings. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue", arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Don't you, Sir? Wouldn't you love it, Sir? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue", arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Yes, we here, we dream too. That one day, to Mecca, we shall all fly. </span></div>
Nevinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07046628275624256612noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6929739846219436250.post-46536831809606818022015-01-14T16:16:00.000+05:302015-01-14T16:16:21.672+05:30In Parallel Universes<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Nevinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07046628275624256612noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6929739846219436250.post-36581852458828773152014-11-28T14:58:00.000+05:302015-02-04T18:58:03.056+05:30Remembering Endosulfan<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<br />
<div class="normal">
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Stencil Std"; font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-themecolor: text1;">RECONSTRUCTING THE ENDOSULFAN TRAGEDY<br /><br /><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">( The article about the endosulfan tragedy is largely based on essays by the Open magazine, Down to Earth and oral history accounts of people who were directly or indirectly involved in the event and the ongoing rehabilitation processes. At no point is the author claiming the fact the to be correct. Nor does he wish to not acknowledge the severe loses the people of Kasargode had to go through (still going through). In fact, the author would like to take this opportunity to applaud the many people who have been constantly fighting for justice.)</span></span></span></div>
<div class="normal">
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Stencil Std"; font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-themecolor: text1;"> </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-themecolor: text1;"></span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-themecolor: text1;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span></span>
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<div class="normal">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-themecolor: text1;">It began with the cattle. Some young
ones were born with weak legs. Amongst them some never made it to their feet in
their lifetime. The Goddess of Jatadhari, is angry they whispered. Slowly their
children started getting the disease. Some were born without limbs. Some with
heads bigger than their bodies. They continued praying to the Goddess, to show
mercy. But the conditions kept getting worse. Soon people started dying of
blood and liver cancer. Infertility and undescended testis became common among
men. The murmurs got louder. The land had been cursed by the God. No family was
spared in the village of Padre in Enmakaje panchayat, from the mystery plague. <br />
Meanwhile the Kondenkiri thodu(stream), the source of fresh water, ‘moved on’ -
innocently carrying the seeds of poison that would affect generations. There
was calm before the storm…</span><span style="color: black; mso-themecolor: text1;"></span></div>
<div class="normal">
<br /></div>
<div class="normal">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-themecolor: text1;">The river Periyar made Eloor the
island that it is - the only industrial belt in the state of Kerala that
produces fertilisers and pesticides. Apart from being the perennial source of
water, the river acts as medium of transport for raw materials required by
these companies. And if the legend is true, and one is forced to believe in it
considering how the number of aquatic species in the river has reduced from 52 to
13 in 15 years, the river is also the biggest waste disposal zone for these
companies. I did my entire schooling in a school sponsored by one of these
fertilizer companies (Fertilisers And Chemicals Travancore), as my father used
to work there. When in 2001, the news of what Endosulfan did to the Padre
village in Kasargod district broke out, resulting in a state wide ban of the
pesticide, there was panic in the island. I remember how there were discussions
regarding the safety of people in the island who relied on the water from
Periyar. Hindustan Insecticides Limited (HIL), the primary producer of
endosulfan, had its production unit in the island on the banks of Periyar. But
there was also another panic. What if the plant had to be shut down? What about
the jobs of many? And the lives that depended on it. Some of the ‘would -be-
affected’ were my own classmates and friends. </span></div>
<div class="normal">
<br /></div>
<div class="normal">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-themecolor: text1;">They say in the island of Eloor even
if people die of drinking contaminated water, the news won’t come out open in
the public - far too many lives depended on the jobs those factories provided. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span style="color: black; mso-themecolor: text1;"></span></div>
<div class="normal">
<br /></div>
<div class="normal">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-themecolor: text1;">The endosulfan tragedy did not happen
overnight. “The pesticide was used from as early as 1976 to kill the tea
mosquitoes which were a threat to the cashew plants. This was even before PCK
(Plantation Corporation of Kerala) took over”, said Mr. JC, an environmental
activist, in his interview.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In fact
there were reports as early as in 1981 when Shrikrishna “shree” Padre, a farmer
and journalist from the village had published his report on cows giving birth
to calves with deformed limbs (Down To Earth, February 2001).
“They(authorities) refused to do anything about this. The most disappointing
part when it came to endosulfan tragedy is that it could've been easily
prevented had they been willing to investigate”, Mr. JC added in his interview.
So was the endosulfan tragedy yet another case of negligence by the
authorities?</span><span style="color: black; mso-themecolor: text1;"></span></div>
<div class="normal">
<br /></div>
<div class="normal">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-themecolor: text1;">Back in Eloor, people were perplexed.
They could not understand why something similar to Padre had not happened to
the people in the panchayat. After all, endosulfan was being manufactured
there. And these companies were known to dump all the waste into the river.
When asked about the tragedy, Mr. VN, senior manager at HIL said, “There are so
many flaws in the claim that Endosulfan caused the catastrophe. Firstly, it has
not been scientifically proven(</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-themecolor: text1;">Brady A, Moffat G, Martens
M,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>1998)</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-themecolor: text1;">.</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-themecolor: text1;"> One among
the test that was conducted by a Delhi based group (Center for Science and
Environment) showed exceptionally high quantities of endosulfan in the
bloodstream (over hundred parts a million) in the samples. Even if one consumes
endosulfan to commit suicide, they would not have such huge quantities in blood.
So the test was definitely faulty and in fact something that requires further
investigation. And why has something similar to Kasargode not happened anywhere
else in the world?”</span><span style="color: black; mso-themecolor: text1;"></span></div>
<div class="normal">
<br /></div>
<div class="normal">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-themecolor: text1;">So what happened at the village of
Padre in north Kerala? Did the pesticide cause the tragedy? OR the negligence
with which it was sprayed? Or are there more stories untold about the event?
Was the Goddess of Theyyam really upset?</span><span style="color: black; mso-themecolor: text1;"></span></div>
<div class="normal">
<br /></div>
<div class="normal">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-themecolor: text1;">As a schoolboy I had listened to many
stories about the Endosulfan tragedy. Seen disturbing photos of children from
the village. Taken part in protests to save the rivers in the state of Kerala.
Listened to relatives and officials talking about the event from their different
perspectives. Who was right? What had really happened? Had science failed? Was
the banning of Endosulfan a part of a larger propaganda?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span style="color: black; mso-themecolor: text1;"></span></div>
<div class="normal">
<br /></div>
<div class="normal">
<br /></div>
<div class="normal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-themecolor: text1;">THE AWAKENING</span></b><span style="color: black; mso-themecolor: text1;"></span></div>
<div class="normal">
<br /></div>
<div class="normal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-highlight: white; mso-themecolor: text1;">“Everyone in your culture knows
this. Man was born to turn the world into paradise, but tragically he was born
flawed. And so his paradise has always been spoiled by stupidity, greed,
destructiveness, and short-sightedness.”</span></i><span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-highlight: white; mso-themecolor: text1;"> - Daniel Quinn, Ishmael : An
Adventure of the Mind and Spirit</span><span style="color: black; mso-themecolor: text1;"></span></div>
<div class="normal">
<span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-highlight: white; mso-themecolor: text1;"><br />
Endosulfan is a pesticide that has been in use from as early as 1950. It
belonged the family of Endrin, Aldrin, Heptachlorin which were all pesticides
heavily employed the period of green revolution in India and were later phased
out due to the harmful effects it had on health and environment (Nishad P.N,
2006). Endosulfan has been used in agriculture across the globe to control
pests like whiteflys, aphids and cabbage worms. It is useful in resistance
management but is said to ‘negatively impact populations of beneficial insects
like honey bees’(Banerjee ,Husain, 1986).</span><span style="color: black; mso-themecolor: text1;"></span></div>
<div class="normal">
<br /></div>
<div class="normal">
<span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-highlight: white; mso-themecolor: text1;">The
Plantation Corporation of Kerala (PCK) owns around 2,200 hectares of land in
the Kasargode district. The cashew crops were prone to pest attacks and hence
endosulfan was sprayed periodically, almost three times annually. Mr. JC,in the
conversation, had explained to me how the aerial spraying of endosulfan started
at Kasargode. This was PCK’s strategy to cut down on 100 permanent employees. </span><span style="color: black; mso-themecolor: text1;"></span></div>
<div class="normal">
<br /></div>
<div class="normal">
<span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-highlight: white; mso-themecolor: text1;">The
situation in the villages surrounding the plantations, especially Enmakaje,
started becoming worse after PCK started their pest control via helicopters.
People were under direct contact of the pesticide and the effects started
showing very early with calves being born without legs. But whatever stories
came out were not given due importance. The protests against the spraying only began
almost two decades ago when people started noticing mysterious illnesses among
the people, especially newborns.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Framers
also noted that the number of bees, frogs etc. had reduced considerably in the
period (Children of Endosulfan, Down To Earth Magazine).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span style="color: black; mso-themecolor: text1;"></span></div>
<div class="normal">
<br /></div>
<div class="normal">
<span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-highlight: white; mso-themecolor: text1;">In
1997 Dr. Mohanakumar, who was perplexed by the variety of diseases to which he
could not find a solution to, addressed his concerns to psychiatrists in the
region and also wrote ‘Kerala Medical Journal’ seeking researchers. Slowly
protests started building up as more people became aware of endosulfan and its
harmful effects on health. Tests performed found high presence of endosulfan in
breast milk. The signs were dangerous and under the leadership of
schoolteachers Aravinda Yedamale and Nagaraj Balike they mobilised the crowd
against PCK. </span><span style="color: black; mso-themecolor: text1;"></span></div>
<div class="normal">
<br /></div>
<div class="normal">
<span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-highlight: white; mso-themecolor: text1;">On
25th December 2000, PCK announced that announced that it would conduct aerial
spraying the next day. A group of young men under the leadership of Yedamale
and Balike protested gathered the next day, and protested against the spraying.
The crowd became agitated when the authorities said they would carry on with
the spraying. There was unrest and the police had to be brought in to bring
peace and order. The aerial spraying was carried out but the agitation acted as
the much needed catalyst for the protest that was already picking up in
intensity. It brought together the people which resulted in the formation of
Endosulfan Spray Protest Action Committee under Yedamale. It was here Dr.
Mohana Kumar conveyed his suspicion about endosulfan to Shree Padre who had
first noticed the effect in newborn calves. Shree Padre asked the doctor to
continue his research.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span style="color: black; mso-themecolor: text1;"></span></div>
<div class="normal">
<br /></div>
<div class="normal">
<span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-highlight: white; mso-themecolor: text1;">The
research, much to their excitement, showed that the health effects of
endosulfan were similar to what Dr. Mohana Kumar had noticed in his patients.
Though the evidence they had was circumstantial, their outrage towards the
careless officials, motivated them to do further research and stir up the
village against PCK. The doctor held public meeting to explain to villagers the
harmful effects of endosulfan while Shree Padre contacted other activists and
also journalists to take up the issue.</span><span style="color: black; mso-themecolor: text1;"></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-highlight: white; mso-themecolor: text1;">PCK
on the other hand tried to distance itself from the event through press
releases but the local media were more appreciative of the struggle. The
coverage of the event finally brought the victims some much needed political
attention.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On January 24, the residents
of Padre petitioned the Court of the Munsiff of Kasargod. Dr. Kumar explained
his concern and filed an affidavit which later went on to the restriction of
aerial spraying of endosulfan</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-themecolor: text1;"> and finally
the banning of the substance in 2012. (Life Ban on Endosulfan, Times of India
November 2012)</span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-highlight: white; mso-themecolor: text1;">Crops Vs Corpse</span></b><span style="color: black; mso-themecolor: text1;"></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-highlight: white; mso-themecolor: text1;">“We stand now where two roads
diverge. But unlike the roads in </span></i><a href="http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7715.Robert_Frost"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-highlight: white; mso-themecolor: text1; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">Robert
Frost</span></i></a><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-highlight: white; mso-themecolor: text1;">'s
familiar poem, they are not equally fair. The road we have long been travelling
is deceptively easy, a smooth superhighway on which we progress with great
speed, but at its end lies disaster. The other fork of the road — the one less
travelled by — offers our last, our only chance to reach a destination that
assures the preservation of the earth.” - </span></i><span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-highlight: white; mso-themecolor: text1;">Rachel Carson, Silent Spring</span><span style="color: black; mso-themecolor: text1;"></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-highlight: white; mso-themecolor: text1;">The
endosulfan tragedy has raised many questions about how India handles scientific
debates. Or how they handle any disaster. It took the death of around 100
people in Kerala in 1956 for the government to come with an insecticides act in
1968. Why aren’t there precautionary measures?</span><span style="color: black; mso-themecolor: text1;"></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; mso-themecolor: text1;">.................................</span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-highlight: white; mso-themecolor: text1;">Excerpts
from the telephonic interview with Mr. JC :</span><span style="color: black; mso-themecolor: text1;"></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-highlight: white; mso-themecolor: text1;">Do you think the ban on endosulfan
came a little late? Why is it that we need a mass tragedy to inspire us to make
a change in the rules? </span></i><span style="color: black; mso-themecolor: text1;"></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-highlight: white; mso-themecolor: text1;">Sadly
that is how our system runs. About your first question, the answer is simple
enough. It came very late. Have you ever been to Padre? Or in fact any place in
northern Kasargod? Regardless of what critics and so called ‘agents’ of science
will tell you, there are young kids without limbs in every class. Young men and
women mentally challenged. I am sure you would have seen the photo of kids with
limb amputations. These are human beings. Why should they suffer while the
entire world seeks ‘scientific’ evidence to prove that endosulfan is harmful?
Would you think it is fair if you had no limb due to endosulfan which the
government was refusing to ban even after many similar situations popped up
internationally? The decision came too late. About your second question now.
Why don’t you give me the answer to it? I have asked this question to everyone
I can think of. But never have I got an answer. <br />
<br />
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Don’t you think a sudden ban on
endosulfan will affect the farmers who had been relying on it for all these
years? Already we have reports coming in about cardamom cultivation being badly
affected by the change in pesticide. The ‘mandari’ disease for coconuts is also
another example of how not using chemicals have resulted in big losses.</i></span><span style="color: black; mso-themecolor: text1;"></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-highlight: white; mso-themecolor: text1;">When
we talk about a ban, we are talking about phasing out a product. This usually
happens in around 3 to 4 years. India is not new to this either. It effectively
enforced the BHC (Benzene Hexa Chloride) ban in 1996. Kerala has a blessed land
with rich water supply. It is when people started cultivating crops that are
not endemic that the need for fertilizers became popular. There are organic
solutions to everything. It is not economically viable because enough research
has not gone into it. I have myself heard about the cardamom cultivation.
Pesticides are not used every day on the plants. They are sprayed twice or
thrice annually. While shifting to organic options proper training should also
be given. Organic solutions will decompose faster so there would be a greater
need to apply them. But all that said, I have also heard that nothing concrete
has happened to any cardamom plants after the banning of endosulfan. These are
all paid propaganda by the companies like HIL to keep their product alive in
the market. Your example about ‘mandari’ is very interesting. I do not deny the
fact that organic replacement for the pesticide failed to work. But how do you
know that keeping human killing poison on coconuts would have been any better? </span><span style="color: black; mso-themecolor: text1;"></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-highlight: white; mso-themecolor: text1;">……….</span><span style="color: black; mso-themecolor: text1;"></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-highlight: white; mso-themecolor: text1;">But
why was endosulfan targeted? Hazardous pesticides, fertilizers etc. are marked
with the help of the LD50 scale. Red is considered highly poisonous, yellow
mildly hazardous and green is eco friendly. Endosulfan, which falls under the
yellow category, has been banned while there are more poisonous chemicals still
freely available in the market.</span><span style="color: black; mso-themecolor: text1;"></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-highlight: white; mso-themecolor: text1;">Parts
of conversation with Mr. VN ( Senior manager at HIL</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-themecolor: text1;">)</span><span style="color: black; mso-themecolor: text1;"></span></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-highlight: white; mso-themecolor: text1;">With more hazardous chemicals still
available freely in the market, why do you think endosulfan was removed? Is
this a part of a larger propaganda?</span></i><span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-highlight: white; mso-themecolor: text1;"> </span><span style="color: black; mso-themecolor: text1;"></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-highlight: white; mso-themecolor: text1;">Though
we produce the pesticide in the company, none of the HIL workers have had such a
bad experience like the people in Kaithode or Padre villages in Kasargod. Many
have retired and are still healthy. It was a huge shock for us when the news
started coming out. Most of were scared. Though we had safety equipments, such
a hazardous chemical would’ve easily got into our bodies. Which is what brought
me into researching about it. By now, everyone would’ve heard about how people
with illness were rushing into endosulfan health camps so that they get free
medical aid and how this blotted up the statistics. But there are other
theories that exist about the endosulfan tragedy and it being brought out to
the media. I’m in no way denying the fact that the affected shouldn’t get
proper aid. And aerial spraying of endosulfan is ill-advised and should have
been banned the moment it started. <br />
HIL did not sell endosulfan to PCK directly. It was always through middlemen.
There are rumours that I hear, which generally tends to be true in industries,
that these middlemen might have encouraged the untrained labourers of the
plantation to spray more than prescribed amount. More the sales, more the money
for the middlemen. If this actually is the case, then the authorities of PCK
should be held responsible for the mass homicide.</span><span style="color: black; mso-themecolor: text1;"></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-highlight: white; mso-themecolor: text1;">Another
of the interesting tales that I’ve been hearing is about the practice of inter
family marriage in Kasargod. It has been scientifically proven that it narrows
down the gene pool which might result in offsprings with disability. A study
also showed how the number of disabled/challenged people in region were high
even prior to the spraying of endosulfan.</span><span style="color: black; mso-themecolor: text1;"></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-highlight: white; mso-themecolor: text1;">As
my job required me to keep a track of the international market, I also happened
to find a disturbing trend in the production of endosulfan by Bayer. They used
to monopolise the world market before companies like our came in and took over
the market. In the 90s Bayer stopped the production of endosulfan and came up
with an alternative, expensive pesticide. Since then they went on to tag
endosulfan as extremely hazardous. So what happens if endosulfan gets banned?
People will have to buy the expensive Bayer product. The market will again be
monopolised by them. </span><span style="color: black; mso-themecolor: text1;"></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-highlight: white; mso-themecolor: text1;">……….</span><span style="color: black; mso-themecolor: text1;"></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-highlight: white; mso-themecolor: text1;">Whoever’s
fault it might be, one thing is clear. It is people’s lives we are dealing
with. Who are we to keep tossing their lives with our own perspectives of the
story? In the quest to understand more about the event I went in search of
popular culture, books and films.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Director K.R. Manoj’s ‘A pestering journey’ is a tale that questions
green revolution and some of its devastating impacts in India. It questions how
much regard for life a culture should have to ponder over what a ‘pest’ is. It
challenges the typical ideas of pesticide and genocide while clearly bringing
out the endosulfan tragedy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span style="color: black; mso-themecolor: text1;"></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-highlight: white; mso-themecolor: text1;">Most
of the mainstream TV channels produced documentaries on the event covering from
a people’s point of view. Perhaps the most constructive among the videos I
managed to watch the ‘Crossfire debate’ on Kairali TV (regional channel in
Kerala) which covered the event from different perspectives. ‘Down To Earth’
and ‘Open’ magazine provided different ideas about the event.</span><span style="color: black; mso-themecolor: text1;"></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-highlight: white; mso-themecolor: text1;">Thought
not about endosulfan, it was Rachel Carson’s ‘Silent Spring’ that first brought
to the world the effects of a pesticide (DDT). Going through the book, it is
easy to see the similarities with what Carson talks about in her book and what
had taken place in the village of Padre. What was even more interesting was the
documentary ‘3 billion and counting’ which talked about malaria and how banning
DDT has resulted in billions of people dying. Together, the book and the documentary,
summed up the entire discussions there are on pesticide-genocide issue.</span><span style="color: black; mso-themecolor: text1;"></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-highlight: white; mso-themecolor: text1;">THE FUTURE</span></b><span style="color: black; mso-themecolor: text1;"></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="background: #FCFAE7; color: black; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-themecolor: text1;">Not only is it the 11th hour, it's 11:59 and 59
seconds. - </span></i><span style="background: #FCFAE7; color: black; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-themecolor: text1;">Thomas Linzey, ‘The 11th Hour’</span><span style="color: black; mso-themecolor: text1;"></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-highlight: white; mso-themecolor: text1;">So
what next for mankind? We have looted and polluted the Earth to the brim and
the time has come to act. While on the one hand there is the duty to feed the
increasing population of the world, there is also the responsibility we have
towards the planet.“I have amazing news for you. Man is not alone on this
planet. He is part of a community, upon which he depends absolutely.” (Ishmael
by Daniel Quinn). With the ban on endosulfan in 2012, India is moving in the
right direction when it comes to eradicating chemicals that go into our soil.
But the effort has only began and the need to speed up the process is extremely
high considering the amount of damage that was done during the ‘green
revolution’ which was highlighted by Claude Alvares in his famous essay ‘The
Great Gene Robbery.’ <br />
The solution put forward by many is the use organic farming, and endemic
varieties of plants. But how affordable is it considering the ever increasing
population. What are the problems that we will have to face once endosulfan and
other such chemicals are phased out from our country. I put forward these questions
to two different people with different perspectives about it.</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-themecolor: text1;"> Here is what they had to say.</span><span style="color: black; mso-themecolor: text1;"></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-highlight: white; mso-themecolor: text1;">Excerpts
from interviews with Mr. JV (environmental activist) and Mr. VN.</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-themecolor: text1;"> Same questions were asked to both and here
are the respective answers :</span><span style="color: black; mso-themecolor: text1;"></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-highlight: white; mso-themecolor: text1;">What do you think the future is for
farmers who relied on endosulfan? Is organic farming and affordable solution?
Will it produce the same yield that the green revolution’s HYV produced?</span></i><span style="color: black; mso-themecolor: text1;"></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-highlight: white; mso-themecolor: text1;">JV
: Endosulfan was a pesticide and the only function it did was to protect the
plants from pest attacks. Nature has its own system of pest control if man
would stay away from altering the chain. This ‘pest’ also falls under the food
cycle and there will be a predator. What the use of chemicals is doing is
altering the chain. Even the predator of these pests stay away because of the
poison. Moreover in the nature, like Darwin pointed out, it is the survival of
the fittest. Only the most resistant variety of a plant will survive and this
natural selection would ensure that the plant is of the highest quality.
Endosulfan’s effect can be easily achieved by burning camphor and tobacco or
neem leaves during the flowering period. Organic farming has existed in the country
for a very long time. It is even mentioned in the Vedas. Many tribal people
still resort to these practices with a very good effect.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Polluting the soil is never a long term
solution. And the time has come to move to (or rather back to) organic methods.
Moreover there are so many other benefits with the practice. The food is
nutritious, healthy and tasty. Whatever people say about affordability is
wrong. In fact organic farming is supposed to require lesser input cost as it
relies on products that are easily available.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The need of the hour is educate farmers about organic farming and also
to reduce the reliance we have on chemicals. </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-themecolor: text1;"></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-themecolor: text1;">VN : When people talk about organic
farming they don't realise how much unreliable the method is and how it cannot
feed a hungry nation like ours. We all know that <span style="background: white; mso-highlight: white;">organic farming will require more space. It is a proven
fact that food production will decline in the absence of effective methods of
control of crop destroying weeds and pests.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>This will lead to shortage of food all over the world. To meet the
requirements more forests will have to be cleared. Deforestation as you know
will lead to further problems. Pesticides, I'm not saying endosulfan, has its
own benefits and these are the reasons why Thomas Malthus' theory of food
shortage has not come true yet.</span></span><span style="color: black; mso-themecolor: text1;"></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-highlight: white; mso-themecolor: text1;">CONCLUSION</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-themecolor: text1;"></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-highlight: white; mso-themecolor: text1;">One
of the task I had to face while bringing out different aspects of the endosulfan
tragedy is to remain sensitive to what people faced (continues to face) in the
region. Science might still argue their case that endosulfan wasn't responsible
for the tragedy but a look at the victim will tell you a deeper story - that
something terrible happened.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Reconstructing an event with a neutral stance is not possible and I have
not tried to do that. What spurned me to probe this story is my association
with the island of Eloor where the pesticide has been produced for years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Another issue that I had to deal with was my
location - Mumbai. This meant my study was restricted to materials that are
easily accessible. I believe my article would've been different had I travelled
to Padre and talked to victims. During the many conversations that I did manage
with victims, I happened to hear the story about a lady in the village of
Kaithode in Kasargode. Her breast milk was sampled to study the impact of
endosulfan. The result showed that the milk had large traces of endosulfan in
it. But the doctors insisted that she continues feeding her child as it was
important for its development. To feed your own child poison - that is what the
victims of endosulfan has been going through for more than two decades. </span><span style="color: black; mso-themecolor: text1;"></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; mso-themecolor: text1;">BIBLIOGRAPHY</span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-themecolor: text1;">Brady
A, Moffat G, Martens M. 1998. Assessment of in vivoestrogenic activity of
butylbenzyl phthalate (BBP) and its metabolites. Toxicologist 42:176–177.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-themecolor: text1;">Nishad
P.N (2006), <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Effects of Endosulfan on
Human Being. </i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thiruvananthapuram: H
and C Publications. </span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-themecolor: text1;">Amin.
S (1995). <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Event, Metaphor, Memory -
Chauri Chaura 1922-1992. </i>New Delhi : Oxford University Press</span></div>
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<i><span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-themecolor: text1;">Reflections
of the Spirit. The Theyyams of Malabar</span></i><span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-themecolor: text1;"> by Pepita Seth</span></div>
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<i><span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-themecolor: text1;">Journal
of the Royal Asiatic Society</span></i><span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-themecolor: text1;"> , Third Series, Vol. 11, No. 2 (Jul.,
2001), pp. 296-297</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-themecolor: text1;">Published
by: </span><a href="http://www.jstor.org/action/showPublisher?publisherCode=cup"><span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-themecolor: text1; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">Cambridge University Press</span></a><span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-themecolor: text1;"> on
behalf of the </span><a href="http://www.jstor.org/action/showPublisher?publisherCode=rasgbi"><span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-themecolor: text1; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">Royal Asiatic Society of Great Britain and Ireland</span></a><span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-themecolor: text1;"></span></div>
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Stable URL: http://lnk.splashurl.com/1ml1</span></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-themecolor: text1;">Effect of
Endosulfan on Male Reproductive Development</span></i></div>
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<span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-themecolor: text1;">Habibullah
Saiyed, Aruna Dewan, Vijay Bhatnagar, Udyavar Shenoy, Rathika Shenoy, Hirehall
Rajmohan, Kumud Patel, Rekha Kashyap, Pradip Kulkarni, Bagalur Rajan and
Bhadabhai Lakkad</span></div>
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<i><span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-themecolor: text1;">Environmental
Health Perspectives</span></i><span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-themecolor: text1;"> , Vol. 111, No. 16 (Dec., 2003), pp. 1958-1962</span></div>
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by: </span><a href="http://www.jstor.org/action/showPublisher?publisherCode=brogpart"><span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-themecolor: text1; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">Brogan & Partners</span></a><span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-themecolor: text1;"></span></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-themecolor: text1;">The insecticides Act 196.</span></i><span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-themecolor: text1;">Retrieved
from :<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> </i></span><span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-themecolor: text1;">http://lnk.splashurl.com/1ml9</span></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-themecolor: text1;">Report
of a Fact Finding Mission</span></i><span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-themecolor: text1;">, July 2002,
Thanal group documents.
http://lnk.splashurl.com/1ml2</span></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; font-weight: normal; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-themecolor: text1;">Endosulphan letter from kerala
chief minister V S Achuthanandan to prime minister Manmohan Singh, </span></i><span style="color: black; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; font-weight: normal; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-themecolor: text1;">http://lnk.splashurl.com/1ml7</span></h3>
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<span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-themecolor: text1;">The Effects of Organic Agriculture on Biodiversity
and Abundance: A Meta-Analysis</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-themecolor: text1;">Janne Bengtsson, Johan Ahnström
and Ann-Christin Weibull</span></div>
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<cite><span style="color: black; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-themecolor: text1;">Journal of Applied Ecology</span></cite><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-themecolor: text1;"> </span></span><span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-themecolor: text1;">, Vol. 42, No. 2 (Apr., 2005), pp. 261-269</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-themecolor: text1;">Published by:<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span><a href="http://www.jstor.org/action/showPublisher?publisherCode=briteco"><span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-themecolor: text1;">British Ecological Society</span></a><span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-themecolor: text1;"></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-themecolor: text1;">Article Stable URL:
http://lnk.splashurl.com/1ml0</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-themecolor: text1;">Carson R (1962) <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Silent Spring, </i>Penguin Publications</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-themecolor: text1;">Joshi.S<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">,
</i>February 2001. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Children of Endosulfan</i>.
Retrieved from http://lnk.splashurl.com/1ml5</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-themecolor: text1;">Pulla.P, June 2013, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Kerala's Endosulfan Tragedy</i>. Retrieved from http://lnk.splashurl.com/1ml4</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-themecolor: text1;">Mahapatra,D. (November 2012), <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Life Ban for Endosulfan,</i> Retrieved from </span><a href="http://lnk.splashurl.com/1ml6">http://lnk.splashurl.com/1ml6</a><span style="color: black; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-themecolor: text1;"> </span></div>
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59:279-284, 1986.</span></div>
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Nevinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07046628275624256612noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6929739846219436250.post-21728893620980123062014-10-27T15:38:00.005+05:302014-10-27T15:38:45.354+05:30Silence Please<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Here are couple of posters I had designed for the documentary film that a group of us made on caste.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZgmp6BS7SmG7k44Y6-6uFFQVzlJfQw0N7vgmBNgfv988P0PTsueHL9e8sarzmUExmo_Cauaa-swn9Pv2gDOpmf0jlg2UNXxLaDw7qtQgl031taZSXGbrY7Nm3C_gx9JT_e7o5ByKr3oI/s1600/dvd+jacket+nevin+thomas+low+res.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZgmp6BS7SmG7k44Y6-6uFFQVzlJfQw0N7vgmBNgfv988P0PTsueHL9e8sarzmUExmo_Cauaa-swn9Pv2gDOpmf0jlg2UNXxLaDw7qtQgl031taZSXGbrY7Nm3C_gx9JT_e7o5ByKr3oI/s1600/dvd+jacket+nevin+thomas+low+res.jpg" height="452" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_cb2Tw8a_o8D1evMxrUqOsWAowNqkEKbvU55KEjDUebnXKUM91LZeChNlncfbL84krY6ogVo6trfepXu8C3EcoXLXEWhipbAsz7XA03ZSHmS756BeWrG9MtThF0LxRmjdampx94Xd7jU/s1600/dvd+new+cover+low+res.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_cb2Tw8a_o8D1evMxrUqOsWAowNqkEKbvU55KEjDUebnXKUM91LZeChNlncfbL84krY6ogVo6trfepXu8C3EcoXLXEWhipbAsz7XA03ZSHmS756BeWrG9MtThF0LxRmjdampx94Xd7jU/s1600/dvd+new+cover+low+res.jpg" height="452" width="640" /></a></div>
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Nevinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07046628275624256612noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6929739846219436250.post-71819708215766424602014-10-22T16:49:00.000+05:302015-02-19T16:49:55.061+05:30Ads you like it<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="color: #474747; display: inline ! important; float: none; font-family: Arial,Verdana; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 20px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">Movies
are a great way to connect with people. 'Ad-ventures' is a campaign
looking to integrate that factor into making Ads. I've used screenshots
of major movies and tried to associate a brand. Originally inspired by
the Tom Hanks starer 'Castaway'. The movie was a great advertisement for
FedEx. Earlier published on my other blog (nev-unplugged.blogspot.com)</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7Gpfv1E0XdjppbEWdjgcvQzB6XUCXOrpcehJNneA2NlCNH3KTsjZHblHWizQbBSxSgHsxyG1vZ085_HCTz2jrhGrvT7hKrGo_uKLjS7qDU8oi1ewz6VP2oV8j3HRtkHsMWM5DDBL45mc/s1600/341184.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7Gpfv1E0XdjppbEWdjgcvQzB6XUCXOrpcehJNneA2NlCNH3KTsjZHblHWizQbBSxSgHsxyG1vZ085_HCTz2jrhGrvT7hKrGo_uKLjS7qDU8oi1ewz6VP2oV8j3HRtkHsMWM5DDBL45mc/s1600/341184.jpg" height="225" width="400" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO4ruAjDN8X4wfLlQfh8dv5klevSOhXX6E07B8KYYXsS76mnol3y0W1BCy0K4syECuHvUYSI56P4Cz7gsZlSZ0dVNv6oj-OAnzD7ZEHT80rKuoGpTMe8GYDoxP7MBZGrpsherGAJrwrOU/s1600/littlerascals.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO4ruAjDN8X4wfLlQfh8dv5klevSOhXX6E07B8KYYXsS76mnol3y0W1BCy0K4syECuHvUYSI56P4Cz7gsZlSZ0dVNv6oj-OAnzD7ZEHT80rKuoGpTMe8GYDoxP7MBZGrpsherGAJrwrOU/s1600/littlerascals.jpg" height="240" width="400" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzKWx4kxowI8VjDLmtZ-t9MdYF_MY9nmQ314L4Nbcsi37_ZBeAZnvErb6QXqCUSZfxcyJDFuMKKpRsev1q9ygx0ltHd_1UwnzWck2BBRUaKPhf0e2Ko50cWPpbjmXDNysRk3ErsGkDPhk/s1600/psycho.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzKWx4kxowI8VjDLmtZ-t9MdYF_MY9nmQ314L4Nbcsi37_ZBeAZnvErb6QXqCUSZfxcyJDFuMKKpRsev1q9ygx0ltHd_1UwnzWck2BBRUaKPhf0e2Ko50cWPpbjmXDNysRk3ErsGkDPhk/s1600/psycho.jpg" height="240" width="400" /></a></div>
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Nevinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07046628275624256612noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6929739846219436250.post-53805188419764388052014-10-17T02:17:00.001+05:302014-10-17T02:17:28.263+05:30Onward Auli march<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Little town of Johimat</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipKUTnOe7EXf0Nn76o731QE1HfeZgkoVZ8803yGZDcWC-1Uc7NGJIbHEQAVk7LOQN-tbeVSWXnaeVh3VEPGfxZovd9SovrJfEOolwHnFyziN0FhFvvrFEkVGI0Hi-30TbRJLwugbNTRa0/s1600/IMG_5583.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOHEKmzH0fslzs_rYF3-zoTv0TDpTrT3T-Yo04wmY2GRLw-oRq2ccZxabWUT1J-RLZRhDclNqgQQpgYSZtTwA_n-644UGIeExeGKloRXguNSKdz5RfropvEnsHikNdP8-_yNgKQ5NsNcA/s1600/IMG_5554.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOHEKmzH0fslzs_rYF3-zoTv0TDpTrT3T-Yo04wmY2GRLw-oRq2ccZxabWUT1J-RLZRhDclNqgQQpgYSZtTwA_n-644UGIeExeGKloRXguNSKdz5RfropvEnsHikNdP8-_yNgKQ5NsNcA/s1600/IMG_5554.jpg" height="183" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">The trek from Joshimat to Auli was far more eventful that I
had initially anticipated. The lack of shoes being one of the root reason. Yes,
in my hurry to escape the city, I had forgotten one of the most basic necessity
required while travelling in the Himalayas. Or any place in the world. Travelling
on a shoestring budget also meant I could not buy one. So I started off wearing
two pair socks and a slippers. For it was incredibly cold that morning. One
could argue that any day is too cold for a Mallu but I insist, and hence the
adjective, it was incredibly cold, that I was in half a mind to go back to my
room in Bharat hotel and sleep inside the big fat blanket. </span><br /><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirsn4oyaYZmujkcm6bMXxuuJLidrXHM7mRjvLc_dwtWuvvkp8zoCjdQcxbjX4jS9dZmSQdLSqevF3s2Pmo-US5AaHXL-PGCFhZJ2sTRXdL3SvhGFHc41fd1t4prn95itbXmjNcGOzkRB8/s1600/IMG_5514.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirsn4oyaYZmujkcm6bMXxuuJLidrXHM7mRjvLc_dwtWuvvkp8zoCjdQcxbjX4jS9dZmSQdLSqevF3s2Pmo-US5AaHXL-PGCFhZJ2sTRXdL3SvhGFHc41fd1t4prn95itbXmjNcGOzkRB8/s1600/IMG_5514.jpg" height="426" width="640" /></a>
<br />At the taxi stand I found out that a one way trip to Auli would cost Rs 1000.
That was 1/5th of my entire travelling budget. Not wanting to wash plates at a
restaurant nearby, I decided to walk all the way up to Auli. It was a steep
trek but there was a path and I was told that the villagers used the path to
come to the market every day. So yes, that is the story of how I decided, very
foolishly if I might add, to walk all the way to Auli.<br />
The initial 50 metres was fine. The sun was up and shining brightly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And I was accompanied by excited school
children who really fancied their photos taken (which I was more than happy to
oblige to). Then the sudden realisation that wait, I think I forgot my oxygen
cylinder. At that kind of altitude every step takes a toll on you. I soldiered
on for some more distance, stopping every now and then to catch the view of the
hills, which was getting better and better, and the little town of Joshimat
beneath me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I did make some stopovers at
shops on the way and again made more mistakes, this time filling my stomach
with fizzy drinks. </span></div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipKUTnOe7EXf0Nn76o731QE1HfeZgkoVZ8803yGZDcWC-1Uc7NGJIbHEQAVk7LOQN-tbeVSWXnaeVh3VEPGfxZovd9SovrJfEOolwHnFyziN0FhFvvrFEkVGI0Hi-30TbRJLwugbNTRa0/s1600/IMG_5583.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipKUTnOe7EXf0Nn76o731QE1HfeZgkoVZ8803yGZDcWC-1Uc7NGJIbHEQAVk7LOQN-tbeVSWXnaeVh3VEPGfxZovd9SovrJfEOolwHnFyziN0FhFvvrFEkVGI0Hi-30TbRJLwugbNTRa0/s1600/IMG_5583.jpg" height="640" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ram Singh's daughter in law and grand child</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Half way and I knew I could not walk any more. My legs and
lungs had given up. And that was when I met Ram Singh. He offered me some water
and took me to his house where again i was offered fizzy drinks but this time
politely refused. We had a long conversation after which I felt healthy enough
to continue the journey. This was the end of civilization. Now I had to walk
through dense coniferous forests to reach Auli. That is unless I wanted to take
the road which would mean i walk an extra 5 kilometres. I was warned there
would be 'Bhalus' in the forest but I said I had my mind fixed on taking that
route.</span><br /><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyjVlpT_-Vcs53uHYVA_DynIKd6VKE-xz_Q3rS-yrlBJc8j_SL8b4_ForNBbRrCf0ljjIz3tH8zy8sPKGkH9k3XTw6gX0nCHPc3ZWLuQLZSproVHnmDJP_q58Jwch_-SpP3ES2CRrvgPw/s1600/IMG_5536.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyjVlpT_-Vcs53uHYVA_DynIKd6VKE-xz_Q3rS-yrlBJc8j_SL8b4_ForNBbRrCf0ljjIz3tH8zy8sPKGkH9k3XTw6gX0nCHPc3ZWLuQLZSproVHnmDJP_q58Jwch_-SpP3ES2CRrvgPw/s1600/IMG_5536.jpg" height="640" width="406" /></a>
The walk through the forest was fun, at areas very dark and the path not clear,
but mostly a no disturbance easy trek. There was the eeriness of the forest of
course but my mind was elsewhere dreaming of people and city life. Not in a I
miss city way, but I think this was perhaps the first time in the whole journey
that I genuinely started missing having people around. People I loved and cared
for. In sometime the forest cleared away and yes, Auli was finally conquered.
People at the gate came out and welcomed me as if I was the only survivor of a
plane crash. Later they explained why they were excited though. Bhalus meant
bear in Hindi and one had been spotted in the area for the past few days. Yes I
just walked through a forest inhabited by a notorious Bhalu like a BOSS. </span></div>
</div>
Nevinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07046628275624256612noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6929739846219436250.post-28625562167154640082014-10-16T01:37:00.000+05:302014-10-16T01:37:13.652+05:30A Rishikesh Shaadi<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">It was a very pretty night. Rishikesh was being special to me. Little did I know what<a href="http://splashurl.com/muwo4wa"> would happen to me next morning.</a></span><br /> </div>
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Nevinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07046628275624256612noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6929739846219436250.post-42428490571125653252014-10-02T22:15:00.001+05:302014-10-02T22:15:02.309+05:30The wait<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Nevinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07046628275624256612noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6929739846219436250.post-81797912229291098662014-09-19T02:58:00.003+05:302018-05-14T19:41:14.735+05:30The Waiting<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU2vPkDCOkIX5vYA0fd6sDPgD3q8ovhbDAUYckJkRkIuN1ssNgR384sA6vIozuCcvvJOLSIp_OPGXWxOy_LVUWseOJSmnmDgi_7-tyvsFW8QZazQPdCieMioScIl_92aQWJd8pvZ490hI/s1600/IMG_5397.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br /></a><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 15px; line-height: 16.8666667938232px;">It was a hasty goodbye. In more than just a day's time, I had started to consider all of them as extended family. The wedding had gone fine. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 15px; line-height: 16.8666667938232px;">I packed my bags in a hurry, got into a mini bus with them, and quickly </span><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 15px; line-height: 16.8666667938232px;">devoured</span><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 15px; line-height: 16.8666667938232px;"> <span style="color: #222222;">every last bit of Rishikesh. I knew I was going to miss the river bank, where I had spent a lot of time the previous night, staring at the stars.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 15px; line-height: 16.8666667938232px;"><span style="color: #222222;"><br /></span></span></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU2vPkDCOkIX5vYA0fd6sDPgD3q8ovhbDAUYckJkRkIuN1ssNgR384sA6vIozuCcvvJOLSIp_OPGXWxOy_LVUWseOJSmnmDgi_7-tyvsFW8QZazQPdCieMioScIl_92aQWJd8pvZ490hI/s1600/IMG_5397.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="403" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU2vPkDCOkIX5vYA0fd6sDPgD3q8ovhbDAUYckJkRkIuN1ssNgR384sA6vIozuCcvvJOLSIp_OPGXWxOy_LVUWseOJSmnmDgi_7-tyvsFW8QZazQPdCieMioScIl_92aQWJd8pvZ490hI/s1600/IMG_5397.jpg" width="640" /></a><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 15px; line-height: 16.8666667938232px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 15px; line-height: 16.8666667938232px;"><br /></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 15px; line-height: 16.8666667938232px;">The family dropped me at the bus stand and hastily bid goodbye, keen to reach the Capital before the summer heat regained its daily might. As I stood there in the deserted bus stand, polishing my Hindi reading skills by panning my eyes over an array of little buses, a slight sense of fear started seeping in. I was going to be alone now. No more under the comfort of friends or family.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 15px; line-height: 16.8666667938232px;"><br />Images of the horrendous flash flood that had hit the 'Dev Bhoomi' of Uttarakhand were still hovering around my mind somewhere. But that wasn't the fear. No I was not afraid of falling off a cliff. Or getting stuck on a deserted land in the middle of the night. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 15px; line-height: 16.8666667938232px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 15px; line-height: 16.8666667938232px;">The fear had its root in something else.</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 15px; line-height: 16.8666667938232px;"> In a question that I had been constantly trying to run away from. About God. One of the motives behind travelling alone in the region. A reason why it was important to carry on, even after listening to the news about the landslide.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 15px; line-height: 16.8666667938232px;"><br />This was a quest to regain the spirituality that had long withered away in those days inside a sleepless metro. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 15px; line-height: 16.8666667938232px;">That morning, waiting for the bus, I did call for God. And for a brief moment, I was transported to Palakkad in Kerala.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 15px; line-height: 16.8666667938232px;">-------------*-----------------<br /><br />As it was most often the case, it is always during the most oddest of hours that meaningful thoughts find words. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 15px; line-height: 16.8666667938232px;">There was a very strong torrent of cool wind that morning. Palakkad in the month of January was notoriously famous for it. The palm trees shook like pendulums of nature, keeping you transfixed to its rhythm while your inner truths and questions looked for ways to come outside. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 15px; line-height: 16.8666667938232px;">Legend has it that <i>Yakshis</i> used to live on these trees and used to push them downwards for the toddy collector. The <i>Yakshis</i> only stooped doing it after the toddy collector's wife cheated on him. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 15px; line-height: 16.8666667938232px;">Everyone was extremely quiet as we made our way up the hill. There were temples everywhere. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 15px; line-height: 16.8666667938232px;">"I wonder why there are so many," I had murmured. Continuing to drive, eyes still fixed on the road ahead, he said, "Sometimes in our busy lives, with money in plenty and safety a phone call away, we tend to forget that many things in this world still remain beyond our control. Out here, in this little town, people live a different life. Belief is as important as food and drink. It is important for their survival."</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 15px; line-height: 16.8666667938232px;"> The Western Ghats had a strikingly purple colour that morning. I had scribbled on my notepad - "I know what inspired O.V at Thasarak."</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 15px; line-height: 16.8666667938232px;">-------------*------------------<br /><br />My bus arrived at the stand. I was told to dump my backpack on top of the tiny bus. It was going to take 10 hours to reach Joshimat. I knew this was going to be a longer journey. I sipped some Chai, hurled my backpack on top of the bus, and took my allotted seat. It was going to be a long journey. </span></span></div>
Nevinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07046628275624256612noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6929739846219436250.post-71236846335616966022014-09-13T16:23:00.000+05:302014-09-13T16:23:21.906+05:30Did you have to go?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">In that brief period, that continues to defy the logic, for
it had seemed Boxer face had miraculously escaped, unscathed from the accident,
there was hope. He had come running madly like he always did towards his abode
that is TISS. He raised his two legs, rolled over and stopped moving. In one big move he ended it all. <br />
To the Dog who taught us all about how to live this short life of ours. Death wasn't painful. That brief moment of
hope was. <br />Even in sleep I kept going back to that event. Was there anything Min and I could have done in that 3 minutes that he was alive? Does it matter now even if there could have been? But how can the heart forget how the temperature in his body dropped all of a sudden.<br />Before the movie he had wanted to enter the class. But I was harsh. "He will make the room a mess", I had said. Would that have saved him? While drinking water during he break I noticed him lying down unusually silent and thought to myself "I should pet this little beast a lot more than I do." But went on to watch the film. Would things have been different then? Did you know little Happiness that this was all going to come to an end soon?<br />
Strangely though, about 5 minutes before I shut the lid of my laptop, I had
re-visited a portion of a film that I had seen a while back, a certain Amores
Perros.<br /><br />Life they say. </span></div>
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Nevinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07046628275624256612noreply@blogger.com0