Istanbul – Where you should be Part I

The Walks – The walks along the Bospherous are amongst the best I have done ever. There is a slight nip in the air during this time of the year. The chill reminds you of the lazy winters in India and you walk, more than you have done in months. Perhaps a great way to start would be at Mosque at Ortakoy, pass the Kempinski and the Four Seasons Hotel, wonder at their history and go on to the Waterfront. The Kempinski was a palace that was destroyed in the fire while the Four Seasons Hotel was once a prison. Who would not want to stay in a place like that?

At the Waterfront you might want to stop, drink some tea and walk on to The Dolmabache Palace. But wait! Perhaps you might want to start somewhere earlier in Time. Perhaps, you might want to walk with the Romans?

The Relics - Take a tram from Dolmabache and go to Sultanahmet Square. Given that you need to be either in Calcutta or Melbourne to ride a tram these days, Istanbul might seem a better option. At Sultanahmet look for the Underground Cistern. Built during the Byzantine times, this underground cistern was the source of water for the entire city of Constantinople. Legend has it that when the Ottoman Turks overran Constantinople, they had to search for a whole century before they could find the same. Once inside the cistern, you’ll see a massive storage house supported by pillars brought from various parts of the empire. This gave rise to stories about the pillars. On the Pillar of tears you will find tear drops engraved along the pillar. It is said this is to remind one of the numerous slaves who died during the construction of this cistern. This is also the wishing well. Maybe the sighs of the dead slaves gives it the power to grant your wishes. As you walk ahead you will find two Medusa heads. Clearly taken from some earlier temple of the Roman or Greek Gods, the medusa heads form the base of two pillars in the north western end. While one’s head is turned upside down, the other looks sideways and therefore, just therefore perhaps I am standing in front of you and have not been converted into a stone.

Once you are done with the cistern walk out into daylight and walk towards Hagia Sophia or AayaSofya as it is called today. Once the centre of Byzantine Empire and the symbol of Christianity, Hagia Sophia has seen changes like few other structures in this world. The First Church is still under the ground, buried within the debris of the past, the second church was also destroyed with time and what remains are parts of its dome jutting out of the ground. The Third and the most magnificent church was built while Constantinople was at the height of its Christian glory. However, as the times changed and the Ottomans overran the city, they for some reason did not burn the church down. Instead, all the beautiful mosaic art was covered with plaster and paint and the Crosses were removed from the walls and any depiction of living form was meticulously removed. Hagia Sophia became a mosque. Times changed again. The Caliphate ended and the republic of Turkey was born. And slowly Aayasofya became a museum. Everyone knew of its History. The Ottomans did not rewrite the past. And so slowly restoration started and the mosaic painting beyond the coat of paint was removed.

Today as you stand on the balcony, you can see the image of The Mother and Child guarded by Archangel Gabriel surrounded by lines from the Holy Quran proclaiming once again why Turkey continues to be one of the few nations tolerant of diversity.

According to custom, all mosques face Mecca and according to the stories that inspire legends, a holy man did not want the Ottomans to burn down Hagia Sophia, Thus he caught hold of one of the pillars and with his thumb turned around the Church itself. And thus it became a strange confluence of two religions. Even today on its walls you can see symbols of the cross that have been pulled out, angels looking at you, half their imposing structure covered with paint.

I had an eerie feeling while I walked around. It seemed I had been there earlier. Hymns were playing in my mind in a language I did not recognize. Church bells were ringing somewhere and I sensed myself walking down the aisles. The spoils of war after the destruction of Pagan Temples had built its foundations. Here religion made you bow in awe; fear and respect not out of love. Here was a proud church, magnificent in its glory and revered by Emperors. But could she offer solace to the commoners? The answer perhaps is lost in time.

Constantinople

Years back a kid used to take his sister’s history book and read all he could about ancient empires; and all that while he would imagine that he would be there one day. Of all the great cities of the past, one enchanted him far more than many others – Constantinople. He read about it while reading about the Byzantine Empire, he came across it while following the Ottoman Turks. He read about it while studying the Khilafat agitation. And all through, his wandering mind led him to Istanbul - The city that bridges Europe with Asia serving as a meeting point of the Orient and the West through the centuries

Today, the boy is physically a man; his mental maturity though remains a cause of concern. But then life’s little ironies got him across to a hotel overseeing the Bospherous and there he sat on The Star Board Restaurant, the winds kissing his face, a sumptuous breakfast tray now completely empty and he started writing. This is his story; his observations and his falling in love with Modern Day Istanbul and also of course to show that his knowledge of Turkish Spelling is extremely poor.

In The End

I lay beneath her feet,

Hands tied,

Gagged

Ready to be slaughtered.

In her eyes I saw my death.

And yet, in those final ethereal moments,

It seemed as if I looked upon her,

For the first time

Majestic, Resplendent,

Without a shade of pity,

She looked down from her pedestal.

And then I saw what I suspected.

Her crown lay in shreds,

Her throne a shadow of her past

Her campaigns unfruitful,

Her ego shattered.

Long years of pain had smeared her face

With lines of agony and strife

I searched for the peace I had seen once

And suddenly my mind travelled back.

I remembered the day

I stormed out of the great halls

Leaving behind what was mine for the taking

To lose myself into nothingness

And yet thoughts of her came gushing

Crossing the insurmountable peaks

Mistress of deceit, she sent them again and again

To bring me back in chains.

Her forfeited conquests

Her lonely nights in the arms of other men

Her battles that raged more within her

Than without.

She needed one victory,

The one that would sooth her soul

And make her lose herself

In the fumes of vanity.

In nothingness I had found nothing

And so I went back,

Like the prince,

Ready for battle.

It raged through night and day

And she fought well

And then when she believed it wasn’t fake

I laid down my guard.

I laid down my guard

For the last time

Hoping against hope

And yet I knew.

She drove the spear in with all her might

Laughing hysterically

And then suddenly she stopped

And dropped dead beside me.

Her heart that once beat inside me,

Throbbed once more.

She never would know

That she had already given it to me

And yet in her bosom, lay mine,

Still beating, still crying,

Till I silenced it for the last time

With the same spear.

Dil Titli Sa...

So today morning I woke up in a state of awesomeness. Normally the state of awesomeness is wrongly attributed to Barney Stinson but I believe that it is a destiny that most Bengali Intellectuals have succumbed to. Take for example, J.C.Bose. Even though we all know that he invented radio, the correct answer in Quizzes has always been Marconi.

Years later when people write about awesomeness, they will talk about Barney, but you, my reader can node your head and say, “Hah. It was a concept derived out of Banjoism” (We bongs love our “-ism”s. Marxism, communism, neo capitalism, Bhadrolokism, Buddhababuism, Banjoism… You get the drift.)

Anyway, as I said, the morning was awesome. I woke up and saw none of my roommates. I cross checked my cell phone. My alarm had not yet rung. I had 15 minutes extra in my life. Yesterday night was still a blur. I remember having dragged myself back home and switched on my music player. As ironic as it may sound, the Bong rock “Nemesis” started playing. It was a song that you hear at the height of frustration in life, when you are so down and so out, you begin to wish ill for people who may or may not have an importance in your life.

Given that I am incapable of hate and feelings of retribution to anyone, even those let us say who promise me a brunch and forget all about it, I need to resort to external sources. So hearing Nemesis always pumps me up. So I heard Nemesis, did a little jig around the house and then plopped down on the bean bag.

It was about 21:00 hours and I normally do not see 21:00 hrs at home. So I picked up the set of CDs I got from my boss and played “How Green Was My Valley.” Beautiful movie. You must watch it. The acting is perhaps as good as Bindu Dara Singh’s portrayal of Hanuman, but the story is absolutely touching. In a world of decay, it’s a story of men, not heroes. It’s not about Frodo saving the Middle Earth. It’s about men who held on to all that’s dear to them and slowly saw it all slipping away and finally letting go. But most importantly all that was worthy of remembrance.

But that was last night. Today morning, as I cycled around I also realized that Didi is one of my best friends. Because she fights for me against mom. Yes, of course, she extracts her pound of flesh for her services but they are well worth it. For example, let’s say she knows that I have grown out of chocolates and there are only two types of chocolates in this world that excite me anymore. So when mom was doing chocolate shopping for me and telling me one after the other what she thought best for me, it took one call from my sis to empty that bag of chocolates and re think the buying process.

Ahhh Chocolates!!!

So VD is moving to Singapore. It’ll not be the same in office without her. She was one of my first friends at work and though a lot lot senior to me, she was always nice and helpful. I will miss her but I guess that’s how life is. Monday will feel different in the office.

Today they are planning a shoot on Carter Road. A lot of equipment is being set up. I guess it’s all about showbiz in this part of the town. There’s always so much happening.

December is gonna be bad. Almost everyone I know is getting married in December. So from end of November to around 15^th of December there are around 15 weddings and then one more, the last and the most important for the year. Humanly impossible to attend them all but who knows what might happen.

The mood is awesome. I have a slight fever and in the pretext of that I don’t have to plan the weekend. My sugarcane juice guy has raised his price by Re. 1. The price of sugarcanes have gone up by Rs. 100 it seems.

My random phone friend called me before leaving for Pune. We spoke of random things at random moments. And now as Jenifer’s body is playing I think it’s a very funny movie. Megan Fox supposedly is a man eater. (Naughty boys!!! Not the type you are thinking about.) She just was trying to eat up her best friend.

Oh how I love watching horror movies in the afternoon!!! Someone twice my size just got eaten up. Now he wasn’t unhappy as long as Megan was eating him but then true to horror movies she started looking pretty disgusting. Yayayyayay!!! It’s Halloween tonight :)

The mind is jammed right now. Too may numbers, Gross margins, profit and loss statements all running in circles. But the heart flutters in its own will.

Dil titli, dil titli sa…

(Title courtesy - Airtel)

Late Night Messages and Movies you Should not watch

The inevitable finally happened. The Department of Photography is going digital. Last 2 weeks have been a crazy effort to raise the money for the kids. And as I saw the updates I realized we will fall short. For the first time, we will fail in fund raising. It really felt bad and irritating I just shut the laptop down and started watching The Ugly Truth. It might have become a cult movie if it was meant to be one. It falls short of the brilliance of Hitch.

And then A messaged and reminded me of my Shawshank Moment. It was an afternoon a long time back. Suddenly the skies grew dark and before anyone knew the rocks fell from heaven. Cold shivers ran through all who were out. And people started running. Men and women searched for shelters. And I stood there welcoming the manna from the heavens above. Suddenly, I felt like a bird swooping across Sky. And the message in a moment transferred me back there. Thanks.

But now let me tell you about the trauma I have been through last week. In a rather depressing Diwali weekend, we decided go and do something. Given that nice bachelor boys often end up in movie theatres, we did too. And met Mr. and Mrs. Khanna. And the world was never the same again.

We went into the hall 15 minute late. And those 15 minutes were the best moments of my life for what transpired after that is best left unsaid. We tried to laugh, cry, feel the pain but all we could do was try to look for an exit. The movie helped us to realize we should no longer live in Mumbai. We should take up a job at the Airports in Australia. We will be able to afford pianos in our houses.

Let’s take an example. Your spouse loses his or her job and for some reason you are not as capable of finding a decent job. You have a ticket to India, what would you do? Go home right? But no, you want to live in a house with a piano.

Second example, let’s say you are married and I come over to your home. You like in true Mumbai sense have a one BHK, just to ensure that no in-laws ever come. But I am shameless and I come in. What would you do? You would ask me to sleep in the hall right? But no, you will leave your house and husband and go stay with some girlfriend of yours.

Anyway, what happened in those 2 hours is still a haze.

But yes, you might want to watch All The Best. Perfectly nice time pass movie. Miss the first 20 minutes and you’ll love to sit through.

Also, I accept the accusations about True Story. It wasn’t the complete story. But my blog is a happy blog. So I shall wait for a story with a Happy ending. Wait for the Sequel.

True Story

All my stories are fictional. Maybe at times inspired by life but then I take my creative liberties. Well, that’s a tall order. I don’t claim to have creativity and yet I claim my liberties. Anyway for the first time I am writing a true story. They did tell me when I was in school that truth is stranger than fiction. Given my fascination for dragons and knights and tales of honour and glory, I never believed it.

But then I met Moin (name changed). And I spoke to the man for four hours at a stretch one Saturday trying to understand what makes Mumbai the city that it is.

Moin came to Mumbai like many other young men from UP and Bihar to earn money. It was not that he was poor in his village. The meagre income in his village was enough to sustain him but then he had heard about Mumbai, the city where dreams come true, the city which rewards the hard working. So one night he ran away.

Mumbai was kind to him. He started working at a hotel and started saving money. In fact, he got enough money to be able to send back home. But then the man from the tinsel town came to `meet him.

He told him that Moin had potential. He told him that the world could be his. He told him someone a lot simpler called Shahrukh Khan had made it big in Bollywood. Mumbai, Moin was told was not the land of dreams. If there was a dream, it was called Bollywood.

At this point of time in the story, Moin took out his wallet and showed me his picture of yesteryears. I looked at the picture of a fair handsome and slightly lost young man, posing for the photographer, trying to give the look of a hero. Somewhere in those eyes were however the innocence of a village in UP.

I looked back at the man. Mumbai had taken its toll on him. The complexion had tanned. The eyes had sunk. The innocence; definitely was lost.

So the man from the tinsel town asked Moin to come with him so that he could give him a shot at stardom. Moin left his job and gave the guy his money. The rest of the story is similar. Moin then started operating an auto and finally managed to own a taxi of his own.

Then he decided to settle down and like all good Indian boys, went back to his village to marry the girl his parents chose for him. Things however did not work out between them and he still searches for peace.

My 4 PM Friends

“It’s about sex, love, relationships, careers, a time in your life when everything’s possible. And it’s about friendship because when you’re single and in the city, your friends are your family.” —The original treatment used by Crane, Kauffman and Bright to pitch the series (FRIENDS) to NBC.

When I was growing up, I read somewhere that if you have a few 4 am friends, you can feel proud that you have a gifted life. I always knew I had such friends. People I could call up if necessary at 4 in the morning, but luckily I never needed to. It’s not that I have had a charmed life. It’s just that I don’t let anything except a good book to keep me awake till that late. So if I am not troubled, I did not need to call people up.

Also calling up someone at 4 am doesn’t take much, does it? Yeah, the spouse might act like an ogre, especially so if it’s a friend from the opposite sex, but otherwise what does it take to wake up once in a blue moon?

On Thursday however I found out that the real test was at a completely different time of the day. Imagine a bad day at office. Your closest pal in office is out somewhere. And you don’t know what to do. You think about your friends. All of them are in their offices, fighting it out as bad as you are. Who can you call up at that moment and disturb?

It’s not 4 am anymore. You have got friends, if you have 4 pm friends. And I am just lucky.

Btw, I hate to do this but let me tell you one liners about three movies. It’s a disease. I have nothing to say about them really

Wake Up Sid – Yeah Yeah nice movie. But nothing absolutely brilliant. Watch DCH or The Graduate if you want to.

What’s your Rashee? – If only there were 6 sun signs instead of 12, this would have been fantastic. Bad ending but the first half is really decent

Inglorious Bastards – Tarantino re writes history and gloriously kills the movie. Read a book called “The Eagle has Landed” to know what I mean. But otherwise brilliantly done. The most beautiful scene is what I call “the death in a red” scene. Comes close to my favourite scene of all times, the leaves in American Pie.