Musings of Maniacs

The name is Prabodh Katti (Captain Not-So-Obvious). Generally curious about life, the universe, everything, and my place in it. Knows the difference between patriotism and jingoism. This blog is one of the many creative outlets of mine. Feel free to comment. Captain In-Your-Face wishes to be anonymous, and in your face at the same time.

[musingsofmaniacs]

Minarets, Bayonets, Drunks, and Devouts

“Constantinople shall be surely conquered; How blessed the commander who will conquer it, how blesses his army”

-Prophet Muhammed, Al-Hadith Al-Sharif

This proclamation is printed on a perspex display attached to a pillar at the magnificent Hagia Sophia in Fatih Sultanahmet District, Istanbul. Nearly Eight Hundred years after Muhammad declared this, in the spring of 1453, Mehmet II fulfilled this prophecy/promise and sent shockwaves in Christendom by conquering Constantinople after a 53 day siege, an event referred to in the West as ‘Fall of Constantinople’. This, according to historians, marked the end of middle-ages. One of the first things that the Ottoman Sultan did was to convert Hagia Sophia from a Cathedral into a Mosque.

Hagia Sophia, or Ayasofya in Turkish, that stands today is the third iteration actually. Two earlier versions had burned down to ground, and the building of the third installment began in 532 AD by the Byzantine Emperor Justinian I. When it was completed, the emperor exclaimed “I have outdone you Solomon!”, perhaps referring to the temple of Solomon in Jerusalem. Until its fall, this Church remained the jewel of Byzantine (or Eastern Roman) Empire, the greatest Byzantine architectural accomplishment.

Mehmet II victorious in cnquest of Constantinople. Painted by Fausto Zonaro

The less tolerant Ottoman rulers, including Mehmet II plastered over the engravings of Mary, Jesus, Constantine the Great and Justinian the Great, carpeted the floors, added the minarets and converted it into a mosque. The murals were recovered in the 1700s by Italians Fossetti brothers. This was commissioned by Europhilic Sultan Abdulmecid I (pronounced Abdulmejid), who is noted in history for bankrupting the royal coffers by building the ornate Dolmabahçe Palace, earning Ottomans the moniker ‘the sick man of Europe’. The latter Ottoman Sultans felt the need to get closer to Europe and wanted to be more European in outlook. This meant a move towards civil rights, equality between Muslim and non-Muslim population, banking law reforms, modernized army, decriminalisation of homosexuality and religious tolerance. These moves were codified during the Tanzimat reformation period, which also led to the abolition of traditional Ottoman military force Janissaries.

Justinian the Great (L) and Constantine the Great (R), Virgin Mary and Jesus at Hagia Sophia. Justinian is presenting Hagia Sophia.

Every Ottoman mosque has drawn inspiration from Hagia Sophia: Blue Mosque, Suleymaniye Mosque, Selimiye Mosque at Edirne or even the modern one built on the Asian side. Notable emperors built a mosque in their name, and Blue Mosque, built by Ahmet I finally replaced Hagia Sophia as the primary mosque of Istanbul. But Hagia Sophia continued, and continues, to be irreplaceable in the consciousness and psyche of the subjects of Ottoman Empire and even the modern Republic.

Blue Mosque

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The battle of Gallipoli in 1915 is one of those battles that build characters of men and nations. It marks a pivotal moment for Australian and New Zealander Nationalism and National consciousness as young Australian and New Zealander boys were slaughtered at this battle. The day of remembrance in its honour is known as ANZAC (Australian and New Zealand Army Corps) day. The First Lord of Admiralty, Winston Churchill was spared the blame for the disaster Entente powers suffered by a government commission, but its failure would nevertheless hang around his neck for a long while. And on the victor's side, one Ali Rıza oğlu Mustafa, the charismatic commander of the Ottoman forces in this decisive battle, rose to prominence and became a national hero. Kemal was added to his name later on, and there are many theories as to how. An immortal quote from the commander, a rallying cry rather, went: Men, I am not ordering you to attack. I am ordering you to die.

Mustafa Kemal Atatürk

At the end of WWI, Mehmed VI was deposed and curtains fell on the Ottoman Empire. Major Entente power kept Constantinople to themselves until the Young Turk movement led by the aforementioned Mustafa recaptured Constantinople and proclaimed the Republic of Turkey, centred at Ankara. Ankara became the seat of power, the seat of new modern Turkey with principles, laws and ideals borrowed from the West while Istanbul was the symbol of the old Turkey: once glorious, a pinnacle of Islamic prosperity, the keeper of the two holy sites; now a fallen empire eaten away by the internal rot that often claims civilisations, a victim of its own sense of success and self importance.

Mehmet VI leaving Palace after abolition of Ottoman Sultanate

Mustafa Kemal was of the opinion that the overall loss of face in WWI (Gallipoli was but one victory; Ottomans sided with Germans and received sound thrashing) was due to the weak leadership of the Sultan. He also believed that Global-Islamism of the Ottomans needed to go in favour of nationalism to unite the Turkish people. The first step was to abolish the Caliphate and the position of Caliph or Khalifa, the universal leader of Sunni Islam. Mehmed VI’s cousin Abdulmecid II was retained as the Caliph (traditionally, Sultan was also the Caliph). This was achieved six months after establishment of the Republic. Subsequently, the entire Ottoman dynasty, whatever was left of it, was given one year to pack up and leave Turkey. They formally adopted the surname Osmanoglu and emigrated to places like Paris, London and Saudi Arabia.

Mustafa Kemal, son of Ali Rıza, ushered in an era of radical reforms. In fact, radical is a gross understatement, as this would completely change the character and nature of this nation. Because of his massive role in building the nation, he was later bestowed the title of ‘Atatürk’ or the father of Turks by the Legislature of Turkey. It is illegal in Turkey for anybody else to have the name ‘Atatürk’.

Atatürk introducing the new Turkish alphabet

He abolished the use of Arabic script used by Turkish and replaced it with the Romanised version of the same. This sparked an increase in literacy amongst the common population. It also intended to hammer in a sense of Nationalism and sovereign Turkish identity and removed the link to Arabic and Ottoman heritage.

Cemal Nadir Guler’s cartoon strip on Turkish script reform. The Arabic script is getting out of Turkey. Hicret (pronounced ‘Hijret’) means emigration.

He abolished Fez, the traditional frustum-shaped hat worn by the aristocracy, citing it as an artefact of the past. He encouraged people to abandon traditional wear and adopt modern Western ‘civilised’ clothings such as Fedoras and Panama hats. 

In an effort to make Turkey homogeneous, his policies encouraged the education and use of Turkish language and dissuaded, even banned usage of other minority languages such as Armenian and Greek. There was even a citizen exchange program between Greece and Turkey, where Christians from Turkey were exchanged with Muslims from Greece in the name of maintaining homogeneity.

He gave suffrage to women, and made it compulsory for women to obtain education. He encouraged them to wear modern clothings and abandon traditional wear, and banned wearing of Burkas and Abayas in government institutions. He has been widely hailed as a proponent of Women’s rights, freedom and advancement in the Muslim world. Sabiha Gokçen, his adopted daughter became the world’s first female fighter pilot and the Eastern side airport of Istanbul is named in her honour.

Turks traditionally did not have a surname or a last name. Atatürk changed this and mandated all Turks to have a fixed hereditary surname.

His interpretation of secularism derived from the French idea of Laïcité, which espouses a very strict separation of Religion and State. This is one of the six arrows of Kemalism, the philosophy of his party CHP (now the main opposition to Erdoğan’s AKP). All forms of religious expression including headscarves as discussed earlier were banned from government places. He established religious authority under the Federal government and gave control of all the mosques to the government. While he has acknowledged the role of religion in national building and his advocacy of Turkish homogeneity included the religious identity, many scholars suggest he himself was agnostic or skeptic. 

He was an advocate of rational thought and was a freethinker. A quote attributed to him goes “If one day, my words are against science, choose science.” Some other quotes of interest from him on religion and rationalism are: 

“I have no religion, and at times I wish all religions at the bottom of the sea. He is a weak ruler who needs religion to uphold his government; it is as if he would catch his people in a trap. My people are going to learn the principles of democracy, the dictates of truth and the teachings of science. Superstition must go. Let them worship as they will; every man can follow his own conscience, provided it does not interfere with sane reason or bid him against the liberty of his fellow-men.”

“It is known by the world that, in our state administration, our main program is the Republican People's Party program. The principles it covers are the main lines that illuminate us in management and politics. But these principles should never be held equal to the dogmas of books that are assumed to have descended from the sky. We have received our inspirations directly from life, not from sky or unseen.”

He changed the status of Hagia Sophia from mosque to a museum.

It can be seen that Atatürk’s reforms penetrated every facet of Turkish life: language, custom, beliefs. Many of these reforms are pretty progressive, some even more so than many supposedly liberal nations at the time. Some, especially those pertaining to religion and lifestyle can be seen to be too intrusive. The Islamists, conservatives and orthodox were naturally not too happy with these reforms and as we will discuss in the next section, this led to confrontations.

Kemal Atatürk’s iron grip on his new nation ended with his life in 1938, on 10th of November in his room at Dolmabahçe Palace in Istanbul. The clock in his room is still set to 9:05, the moment of his death. The cause of his death was cirrhosis, likely due to his drinking habit and his love for Turkish alcohol Raki. Of course, Atatürk had also liberalised the alcohol laws in Turkey. In fact Turkish alcohol laws were more liberal than many Western countries for a long time.

Ataturk’s bedroom where he took his last breath, and the clock set to 9:05.

Atatürk is widely loved and respected in Turkey. It is illegal to insult him. His lifetime is popularly stylised as (1881-193∞) as a homage to his undying, eternal legacy. At the moment of his death, almost the entire Turkey comes to standstill to pay him tribute. Atatürk’s respect extends to all of Muslimdom for building a Muslim country amidst pressure from Christendom. He has inspired and influenced leaders desirous of building a reformist, liberal, secular nation all over, such as Jawaharlal Nehru and Anwar El-Sadat. He was admired by his once opponent Churchill, FDR and even Adolf Hitler.

Pic Credit: bluesyemre.com

But.

When it comes to many interfering personal laws and suppression of religious expression in public places, his legacy turns complex. Orhan Pamuk in his book Istanbul: Memoirs of a City talks at length about the two Turkeys that emerger post Atatürk era: Crème de la crème of high society aspiring to go full Occidental and be accepted as European - adopting French lifestyle, sending their kids to Sorbonne and such- that had a derision for expression of religion and religious activities and dismisses the religion as something the lower class people undertake; and poor, working-class devout Turkish feeling left behind, made to feel lesser for upholding their faith.

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Politically Turkey has been divided into two ideologies: Islamism and Kemalism. Big cities like Ankara, Istanbul, Izmir have been bastions of this liberal, secular thought, whereas those in Anatolia, cities like Konya, are overwhelmingly devout, conservative, pro-Islamism. Atatürk is said to have assigned enforcement of his secular policy to the military, and the military has time-to-time interfered in the government, including a couple of coups during the Cold War. Similarly, the Bureaucracy is said to be filled with civil servants possessing Kemalist ideals. On the other hand, politically, Kemalism has declined from the general public sphere, and this is especially true in the hinterlands, away from the prosperity and glamour of Istanbul and Ankara. Author H. Kösebalaban argues that this is ironically due to the policy of Atatürk’s government to fill Anatolia with Muslims in the name of homogenisation.

Culture wars had also ramped up. The headscarf protests are a famous example. Women in Istanbul University refused to remove scarves in 1998 and were banned from taking their final exams, which led to a protest movement. Similar battles over headgear had also erupted in the 70s and 80s. It was only in 2013 that the headscarf ban was lifted. Islamists hailed it as a long overdue reform, while Kemalists worried about this being a slippery slope.

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Post Cold War, the drive towards Islamisation accelerated. In 1994, Istanbul elected a new mayor from Islamist Welfare Party, Recep Tayyip Erdoğan. He was responsible for solving some pressing problems for the city, like traffic, pollution and drainage, and managed to revive the economy of Istanbul. Later on, when he became the Prime Minister of Turkey, he also oversaw an economic expansion and revival of a stagnated economy post a crash in 2001. The period also saw an increase in infrastructure investment and extension of negotiation with the EU for membership. Erdoğan became one of the most popular leaders of the nation.

Erdoğan shortly before he was jailed. Source: Reuters

Before premiership however, he captured national attention for reciting these lines from Ziya Gokalp, a Pan Turkish poet:

"The mosques are our barracks, the domes our helmets, the minarets our bayonets, and the faithful our soldiers." 

On charges of inciting violence and violating secular norms, Erdoğan was jailed and banned from contesting elections. This also had an effect of raising his profile amongst those of Islamist ilk, and posturing Erdoğan as a religious pragmatist. His ban was lifted later and he went on to become the Prime Minister, and later President of Turkey, as part of the AKP or Justice and Development Party. He has been in either of these positions since 2003.

After the popular uprising in Gezi Park Istanbul against the government's plan for its redevelopment, Erdoğan tightened his vice grip on the country and went full autocrat.Later he became the President, since Turkish constitution at that time allowed the PM only three consecutive terms, and started transferring power to himself. Since then Turkey has seen a significant democratic backsliding. Today, it has the second largest jailer of journalists, an ignominious record where it only trails China. Yes, China. 

Failed 2016 coup. Image credits: Tolga Bozoglu/EPA

In 2016, the military responded by trying to stage a coup in Istanbul, and failed due to popular opposition by AKP loyalists. Erdoğan took this opportunity (he called the coup ‘god gifted’) to declare a state of emergency, blame it all on a terror plot by his associate-turned-foe Fetullah Gülen, and effect a massive purge in army, bureaucracy and government jobs like teachers, wherein tens of thousands of people were summarily removed from their jobs. In 2017, by the breadth of a hair he won a referendum to consolidate power as President, after which he abolished the office of Prime Minister and changed the country from Parliamentary to Presidential democracy. The election has been widely decried for dubious practices. As usual the big cities came out in opposition and the hinterlands came out in support.

Referendum breakdown. Note that Istanbul, Ankara, Izmir voted No.

Erdoğan introduced restrictive alcohol laws, including ban on advertisements and closure by 10 o’clock. He also championed pro-headscarf law, by railing against Atatürk and his successor, Ismet Inonu saying "How come a law that was made by two drunks, has been recognized while one that follows the values of faith is unacceptable and must be rejected?" This stunned the nation that has enshrined Atatürk as a messiah who cannot be slandered. He has also famously said on camera that their religion has identified a role for women, which was motherhood and household duties. Many reports suggest that Erdoğan harbours a Pan-islamic or Neo-Ottoman dream of a United Islam Front (one of his adviser came up with a plan for a caliphate with Istanbul as its centre). This again is at odds with Atatürk’s strict nationalistic views.

Rakı, Turkish beverage and Ataturk’s preferred drink.

Erdoğan won the 2018 elections with lesser margin than he had hoped for, but the bigger shock came last year. Erdoğan has remarked that if they lose Istanbul, they lose the country. Well they lost to Ekrem Imamoglu of CHP. Twice. The first time, he tried to invalidate the ballot because of a low margin of victory (13729) and a thin argument regarding the conduct of certain polling places. The world saw in horror as Erdoğan got the election commission to rule in his favor, cancel the elections and hold another in three months. The man from AKP was Binali Yildrim, the last PM of Turkey before it was abolished in the ‘17 referendum. Many started singing the requiem for Turkish democracy. 

The elections were held again in June.

Ekrem Imamoğlu this time won by a margin of 800000 votes. A surest landslide there ever was, vindicating the victory of the party established by Atatürk. Erdoğan accepted the defeat and congratulated the winner. Headlines of a Turkish political revival and those of the beginning of the end of Erdoğan started to float in the world media as the most closely watched mayoral election of the year produced a rather satisfying victory and poetic justice.

Ekrem Imamoğlu, Twitter

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One of the promises Erdoğan made in his election campaign was to reverse Atatürk’s 1931 decision. On 31 March 2018 Erdoğan recited the first verse of the Quran in the Hagia Sophia, dedicating the prayer to the "souls of all who left us this work as inheritance, especially Istanbul's conqueror," strengthening the political movement to make the Hagia Sophia a mosque once again. In July of 2020, the Turkish Courts decreed that the order by Council of Minister in 1931 to secularise Hagia Sophia was illegal and that Hagia Sophia was back as the mosque. 

The speaker of the Turkish Parliament remarked "a longing in the heart of our nation has ended". Ekrem İmamoğlu, in what appeared to be hedging his bets, said he supported the conversion “as long as it benefits Turkey”. The move obviously appeals to the Islamist base of the President, and may have in fact been the motivation. Many Islamic countries like Pakistan and Indonesia have lauded the decision. CHP, The Greeks, US, and UNESCO have derided the decision as unfortunate. Nobel prize-winning author Orhan Pamuk told the BBC: “There are millions of secular Turks like me who are crying against this but their voices are not heard…To convert it back to a mosque is to say to the rest of the world unfortunately we are not secular anymore.”

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The story of Istanbul is the story of Turkey, the story of the world even. Occupying a strategic place at the crossroads of civilisation, it has been the envy of many. From Prophet Muhammad in the 7th Century to the Bolsheviks in 20th, all have eyed it, wanting it for themselves. When it was annexed, the Christendom vowed to have it back. Orhan Pamuk talks in his book about continual anxiety amongst the residents of Istanbul about the possibility of Soviet annexation.

Similarly, at the Sultanahmet square, opposite to the Blue mosque and a huge fountain, across the road from Basilica Cistern and attached to the perimeter of Topkapi Palace, the Ottoman centre of power lies Hagia Sophia: A time capsule that bears the history of the city, that has changed with the change in the city it adorns. If the dear reader is so inclined, visit the square at dusk as the Muezzin’s call for evening prayers drown out the din of the merriment of many thousands of tourists. And Hagia Sophia bathes in the sunset light and acquires an ethereal glow.

Pic Credit: askideas.com

From Justinian I with his self proclaimed victory over Solomon, to Mehmet and his successors adding the pillars, to Atatürk secularising it to Erdoğan reversing Atatürk’s move: Hagia Sophia carries with it the imprint of its master; its story is the story of the Istanbul; and along with the rays of light that give it a pink glow at sundown, it reflects the state of the City, the Nation, the People.

The symbolic heft of the recent reversal notwithstanding, as with all mosques that are heritage sites, it is fully open to tourists. Check the prayer timings before planning your visit though.

Pic Credits: Mehmed Goren (Pintrest)

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Further Readings and Footnotes:

Islamists, or Islamism pertains to the political Islam, or the idea of imposition of Islamic ideals onto laws and regulations. It must not be confused with the Muslims, the people who profess the faith or religion of Islam. 

Tanzimat reforms were a series of wide-ranging reforms initiated during from 1839 to 1876. Readers are encouraged to go deep into topics by starting with the history of Ottoman Empire. In interest of brevity, it is not discussed here.

Ottoman Empire is named after its first ruler Osman I, who was called Uthman in Arabic. The Empire started from Bursa, shifted to Edirne and then Constantinople. Pre-Mehmet II history, Mehmet’s preparation and execution of the siege make for very interesting read.

Battle of Gallipoli, failure of British strategy, Ataturk’s victory, his dissatisfaction with the Sultan, Treaty of Lausanne, Turkish War of Independence: Topics that make for a rather interesting reading of WWI. For Battle of Gallipoli, a great source is Dan Carlin’s podcast ‘Blueprints of Armageddon’, six volume treatment of WWI.

Books of Orhan Pamuk: My Name is Red, Museum of Innocence, Istanbul: Memoirs of a City.

Muezzin is a Mosque helper or volunteer whose job is to call the devouts for prayer. He is typically a younger person who had to climb atop minarets and sing loudly, as Imams are typically too old for that. Of course, with the invention of loudspeakers, the Muezzins no longer climb atop and shout. Someone at Istanbul told me that for Heritage Istanbul mosques like Blue Mosque, Muezzins are scouted from all over Turkey and there is a competitive selection procedure. 

Blue Mosque by Sultan Ahmet is one of the only two mosques in Turkey to have six minarets. After its construction, it was said to have invited the displeasure of the Imam of the Holy Mosque at Mecca accusing Constantinople of trying to usurp the religious superiority of Mecca.

Gezi Park protests came at the time of the Arab Spring in early 2010s. Read more about Arab Spring in my blogpost: The Slap that Changed the World.

2016 Coup, and its defusing by the President marshalling his followers using the Periscope app to broadcast his message, and the chilling aftermath: Plenty of online sources available, and should be given a serious read by those interested in knowing how crises are exploited and democracy slowly bled.

Fetullah Gulen was an associate and supporter of Erdogan, before they had a fallout and the former fled to the US. Erdogan declared the Gulen movement a terror organisation and found a convenient boogeyman. He makes references to conspiracy originating from Pennsylvania, where Gulen is currently exiled.

References:

Wikipedia.

https://seekersguidance.org/answers/hadith/has-the-hadith-regarding-the-muslims-conquest-of-constantinople-been-fulfilled/

https://www.aa.com.tr/en/turkey/how-it-happened-ottomans-conquer-istanbul/1492258

Turkish Foreign Policy: Islam, Nationalism, and Globalization, Hasan Kosebalaban, Palgrave Macmillan, 2011

https://www.npr.org/sections/thesalt/2013/06/07/187334924/not-everyone-cheers-turkeys-move-to-tighten-alcohol-rules

https://www.hindustantimes.com/world-news/choose-science-elon-musk-s-post-on-ataturk-kicks-off-debate-in-turkey/story-ZuA0eMLnmtOKdOdcYjovGN.html

https://www.aljazeera.com/indepth/features/ataturks-legacy-debated-80-years-death-180527201132031.html

https://jcpa.org/article/defining-limits-on-religious-expression-in-public-institutions-the-turkish-crisis-over-headscarves/

https://intpolicydigest.org/2017/06/29/erdogan-self-proclaimed-caliphate/

https://www.spiegel.de/international/europe/turkey-s-powerful-prime-minister-who-can-challenge-erdogan-a-495683.html

https://www.forbes.com/sites/niallmccarthy/2019/12/12/the-countries-imprisoning-the-most-journalists-in-2019-infographic/#3927e54813d6

https://www.thecairoreview.com/essays/turkeys-pan-islamist-foreign-policy/

[musingsofmaniacs]

We Two Dervishes: Istanbul Diaries

If you do not wish to read the whole article but are interested in a typical itinerary and tips, skip to the last section. Important tips are highlighted in Bold also.

Courtesy: Mehmet Gören (Pintrest)

Pins and Needles

To think that this trip almost never happened.

ProTip: Take the visa rules very seriously. The spirit doesn’t matter, the letter absolutely does. Also, never overestimate Consulates and Visa centres, if they say it will take 10 days, take it to mean that it will take 11 days at least and prepare accordingly.

4 days until the trip, no visa in hand, sleepless nights, continuously refreshing the VFS website for any change in the status of arrival of Visa from Mumbai to Ahmedabad, estimating time it takes for courier services to deliver a package from Mumbai to Ahmedabad and constantly flitting between self reassurance and sick-in-the-stomach worry that visa won’t arrive on time. If only we had been a day early, the situation where a small delay could fully derail the trip I have wanted to take for a long time would not have precipitated, and all the preparation, from ordering The Museum of Innocence, to vividly imagining/dreaming of being there would sink in front of our eyes. To say nothing of the monetary loss, because we had booked non-refundable flights.

The visa arrived two and a half hours before our departure to Mumbai. The VFS staff weren’t sure when the damn thing would come, so we just decided to camp out in front of the visa centre and wait for the Blue Dart mini-truck. Fortunately they were expecting a delivery in the evening, and they were kind enough to give our visas to us after their working hours (Visa Centres and Consulates are strict about their working hours. Fervently so). I am not sure when the last time I had a tsunami of relief wash over was. The package soon arrived and we heard the guard talking amongst themselves about arrival of Japanese, American, and to our good fortune, Turkish. We ran to Forex centre close by, requesting them on phone to stay open for a little while (thankfully, they wanted our business) and managed to buy a modest sum of 230 Euros, because that’s all the Euros they had.

Sigh of Relief

Battlefield

I would like to argue that the first country out of my own that I have stepped on is Turkey and that layovers don’t count, because boy Kuwait City was disappointing. The only fascinating thing that one can see in the darkness before dawn break are the fires in the oil fields. Kuwait City, especially the area around the airport looks like an empty abandoned desert, and it should because it is far from the actual Kuwait City. If you look at the map of Kuwait, you will be struck by the featurelessness of the country, apart from the dense network of roads around a small tip that is Kuwait City. The airliner from Mumbai had nice food (as airplane foods go), and a courteous and diverse staff: You had an Indian, an Arabian, a Caucasian, an African, and an Asian. The Cinema and TV selection were average, but the movies were heavily censored. Even words like ‘Hell’ were muted, and absolutely no scenes of intimacy, even those that would be demure by Bollywood standards!

The airport has 2 terminals. The old one receives flights from Mumbai, and the new modern terminal services to Istanbul. The ground staff, or the lack of them is particularly pain in the ass. It was 6a.m and passengers were to be transferred to new terminal, and the staff was scrambling to get the security officer and the bus driver to service the passengers, causing delays. This worried me a bit during the onward flight, because the return flight, we had a layover of meagre 1 hour 25 min. (And my fears came true. The return flight departed half an hour late from Istanbul, because of a fuel leakage which stalled our take-off and put us right at the end of the queue. We had to scramble to get to put flight to Mumbai, because guess what, it rained that day. In a desert.) The Security check was especially very adamant on checking each and every item in the baggage. In fact, they didn’t even allow us the toothpaste, so we had to go foul mouthed all the way till our hotel at Istanbul!

The ground staff of the airport comprised mostly of, you guessed it, immigrants. And of those, most of them are South Asians. And of those, most of them appeared Malayalis, fulfilling the Gulf dream as their counterparts elsewhere. You can easily get by with Hindi around the airport at least. And the toilets do not have urinals! This complies with the personal law prescribed in Islam. The washrooms at Istanbul do have the urinals though.

KWI of course was a battlefield in the Battle of Kuwait International Airport, a significant battle of the Gulf War between US and allies and occupying Iraq led by Saddam Hussein.

Where Airlift was Set

Why Istanbul?   

Because Istanbul is magical. A place where the streets whisper to you the tales the glory and doom, rise and fall; ascension and declination of emperors, sultans and revolutionaries; not unlike the undulating terrain it occupies. The place where the East meets West, the great continents and civilisations of Asia and Europe face off across a narrow waterbody that also connects North with the South. To see Istanbul, to understand Istanbul is to understand the history of the culture and civilisation of a major part of the world, in fact the world itself. Devout muslims, avid history buffs, Europhiles, party creatures- they will all find in the ruins and the glory of the city what they are looking for.

Istanbul is a time capsule, a place where time is laid out in space like a spread out deck of cards.

A stock photo

It’s a Church! It’s a Mosque! It’s Museum!

My fascination with Ayasofya or Hagia Sophia, or the magnitude of it, is somewhat a puzzle to me. I do not know why I have been entranced by this beautiful, beautiful Eastern Roman/Ottoman marvel. I know for certain it began when I first read about it in Netfundu magazine in my school days. Netfundu was a kiddie magazine complimentary during the heydays of Indian Airlines, the domestic govt. operated carrier before it was disastrously merged with Air India. Maybe it was about the name or it was about the architecture, but it never escaped my imagination after that. It is an important must see for travellers visiting Istanbul, and is one of those things that do not disappoint, despite a small part of it being covered with scaffolding for renovation.

Where else will you see Jesus, Mary, Allah and Muhammad together in one single place?

After capturing Constantinople, the Ottomans removed or plastered over mosaics and images  of Jesus, Mary, Constantine, Justinian and various other Byzantine Emperors from the walls, as Islam prohibits representation of human figures because no one but Allah is allowed to create. This is the reason why Topkapı, Blue Mosque and all the other Ottoman palaces (Not Dolmabahçe; we will come to that) are covered with exquisite tiles and carpets as decoration and not paintings, as a guide we shamelessly eavesdropped at Blue Mosque tried to explain his captive (and paying) group. Orhan Pamuk’s masterpiece My Name Is Red, the book that put in me the fascination to visit Istanbul, devotes a considerable portion of his book discussing this aspect of Islamic philosophy, of prohibition of creating realistic portraits, thereby challenging Allah. This attitude is reflected even now, with reports of Modern day Saudi Arabia destroying historical artifacts around Mecca to build hotels. Or ISIS destroying Palmyra. Sultan Mehmed II, the conqueror (Fatih, which now renders its name to the UNESCO heritage historic area of the old city. Note similarity to the Hindustani word ‘Fateh’) ordered a massacre of Roman residents, then asked for muslim immigrants to settle Constantinople, and converted Hagia Sophia, the ‘Church of Wisdom’, into a mosque.

The images that we see of Jesus, Mary and the other kings were restored by Swiss-Italians Fossati Brothers, entrusted with the task of renovating the mosque by Sultan Abdulmecid to renovate Hagia Sophia. Many old, precious mosaics are still lurking under the ones plastered over.

The church that stands today is actually the third iteration. Two were destroyed by fire and riots before Emperor Justinian built the third in 537 AD. The ruins of the 2nd Ayasofya found in excavations are put to display outside the building. The White marbles and sheeps will catch your eye.

Once you go inside, you will see hung on the wall a proclamation by Mustafa Kemal Ataturk, the father of the modern Republic, and his cabinet secularising the mosque by converting it into the museum. This makes one realise that Hagia Sophia houses inside itself the history and the character of the city of Istanbul, and of Turkey itself. From Romans, to Ottomans, to the new secular republic, Ayasofya is a time capsule, having stubbornly endured earthquakes and  conquests and the hyper-secularisation. It feels as if the monument now stands before you and whispers to you the story of Istanbul and indeed of civilisation it has witnessed. For those with a sense of history, Ayasofya cannot be anything but fascinating, and there is no building like it anywhere.

As for the grandeur of the interior, I will let the images do the talking.

Pro Tip: Get the ticket for Ayasofya, Topkapı and Archaeology museum together for 135TL instead of getting them individually. All are worth a visit.

Hey kitty kitty! Istanbul’s cats, like her Sultans, are fat! 

Blue Mosque, the second jewel of Sultanahmet sitting right next to Ayasofya, was unfortunately under renovation, so a lot of it was covered. We managed to witness some of the famed Iznik tiling anyway. Note how this and all of the other mosques in Istanbul, and in fact the rest of the Turkey, are influenced by Ayasofya. One interesting thing we noted was that the instructions outside the gate urges the visitors to refrain from, among other things, kissing inside the Mosque. Helpful tip.

Blue Mosque seen from Ayasofya window

The fame of Blue Mosque, or Sultanahmet Mosque (Camii, pronounced Jami. Similarity with Hindustani to be noted) somewhat eclipses that of Suleymaniye Mosque, named after Suleiman the Magnificent, the ruler during the golden ages of Ottoman Empire. That should not dissuade anybody from paying it a visit, because it is indeed at par with its more famous counterpart, and lot less crowded. We obviously enjoyed it more because of the restoration at Blue Mosque. The minimalism and unassuming nature of the interior complements the huge size of the interior.  Free pamphlets and small books explaining Islam are distributed inside, and we helped ourselves to some.

Walls of Suleymaniye Mosque

Steamy

At night, we decided to try one of those famous Turkish baths, or Hamam. Most hotels will know who to call for their customers, and Mihriban hooked us up with Gedikpasa Hamam, somewhere in the mesh of cobblestoned streets, touristy hotels and heritage structures that is Sultanahmet. It was pretty cool because I had read that it was one of the oldest Hamams that still existed, probably the oldest, as it was established by the eponymous Pasha in 1453. Turns out, they have a pick-up from and drop-to service, and a big van pulled up in front of our hotel. We climbed in, and off it went, cruising confidently like it had done before umpteen times through the narrow lines and sloped terrains to an old establishment with a facade that might render it inconspicuous among the densely packed shops and restaurants, but on entering you will find yourself amongst a relic, a living history.

You are told about the various services by the receptionist, like you can use the Hamam yourself for about 80 TL, or you could get a foam bath and massage from a staff for 120 TL. For a few more bucks, you could get a honey massage, but we didn’t fancy it that much. You are led to a room where you keep your belongings and change into a towel,and tie the key on your wrist. After washing oneself, one enters the steam chamber.

The steam chamber, the actual shvitz, has marble flooring and plastered ceiling, which is dome shaped, and an aura of antiquity that makes you realise that you are sharing a public bath with 550 years of history. This feeling, perhaps encapsulates the entire spirit of Sultanahmet and Istanbul itself. The warmth of hot steam soothes you from the cold of outside, and the steam feels cleansing, although one’s breathing becomes a tad bit belaboured due to the temperature and steam content of the air. Soumya rushes in and tells excitedly that there was a guy who just took of his towel in the corridor without a care!

And soon somebody came to take out ours. An old gentleman, whose name I couldn’t catch because of the language and accent barrier asked me to sit in a corner, near a tap with a basin below it created out of a parapet of diminutive height. He started rubbing me with the foam HARD, as if trying to wipe away my epidermis. Tiny, black-brown, spindle shaped dirt started to roll away as he pulled back his hands during the violent rubbing, leaving a pink skin it its wake. He did this on the limbs, and then in the central raised floor, made me lie down, and removed my towel. For the briefest moment, I was fully in my birthday suit, lathered up it was far, far from being sensual. I also managed to catch another gentleman getting the same rubbing down. Only he was upside-down, with towel covering the valley between the hills, making it perfectly clear what awaited me. The awkward agony ended when the gentleman rearranged my towel to closely cover the unmentionables, and begin the intense massaging that flitted around the boundary of pain and pleasure. Then he overturned me and proceeded with my back and sciatica. I was able to muffle my screams of agony/ecstacy, but Soumya was crying (moaning?) out loud in response to his masseuse’s strong hands.

A file photo from the Hamam website

At the end of it, he took me back to the bathing place and cleaned off the foam. Shook hands with me and said something with the word 50. Either he was talking about his age, or about the tip (Which would have been too much, almost half the cost of the whole service).

After one is done with steam and massage, one can wash it off and cool it in a green pool in a cave like niche, finishing off a wholly tranquilizing experience in a high.

The Tale of Two Palaces

Topkapı Palace is actually a Royal complex, with multiple courtyards having buildings and rooms that served various royal functions: schooling, receiving diplomats, circumcising princes, meeting general public. Standard stuff. The highlight of Topkapı though is the one room where they don’t allow photography: The room that contains artefacts that are believed to be personal belongings of prophets in like Moses, David, Abraham, and Muhammad. It also has sacred relics from Kaaba including the door for the Kaaba. The caliphate passed on to Ottomans after their conquest of Mecca in 1517, and they brought in many holy relics from Mecca to be stored in Topkapı, including dentures and hair of Prophet Muhammad.

Courtesy: getyourguide.com

One gets a peak of the lives of Sultans in the empire from visiting the harem. Harem is the private part of the palace, and is where Sultan, his countless mistresses and the head of the household, the Valide Sultan or Sultan’s widowed mother lived. There is a separate ticket for Harems in all palaces, about 30 TL. A package deal may cost less, so take it. Since any given Sultan with his countless harems is bound to have many children, all equally entitled to the throne, almost every succession involves fratricide i.e. potential successor killing off all of his brothers to establish his succession. After Mehmed II, as I learned later through fascinating Wikipedia (back home) and Quora articles, the practice was even codified and considered a rite of passage! As I looked at the corridors, the walls, the exquisite washrooms and the magnificent rooms, I could not help but wonder of all the drama and palace intrigues that would have taken place in the harems with their shehzades, Valides, concubines, wives,eunuchs, soldiers and assassins maybe?

Panorama of the entrance

Famed Iznik tile works

One of the most remarkable dome interiors in the beautiful white dome of the library. Mesmerised, we spent longer than usual staring at this stunning dome. As mentioned earlier, the main decorations in the palaces and mosques are accomplished using tiles and carpets since representation was not allowed. There are 1-2 paintings in the administrative chambers though, that too miniatures.

The Library dome

Topkapı is located at the tip of Fatih area overlooking stunning views of Bosphorus. This makes slightly overpriced restaurant at Topkapı, Konyali, worth a try, because as you can see, it makes for a kickass picture.

Bliss atop @ Konyali restaurant

For all its glory and its size, Topkapı is still somewhat...humble. Of course, it is very difficult a claim with your gates, size, views and separate rooms for shehzade’s circumcision, but if you compare it with a typical European palace, like say The Hermitage of St. Petersburg (of which I have only gone through a coffee table book), the palace complex is unassuming and not grandiose.

This realisation strikes you only when you visit the Dolmabahçe Palace. Sultan Abdulmecid I had a somewhat similar idea, and decided that he deserved a palace just like his European peers elsewhere, even if it costed the empire a quarter of its tax revenues that year. The financial hole that the palace made contributed to the empire’s nickname as ‘the sick man of Europe’.But what a hole! The tourists with a 90TL combo ticket (Muzekart, in case any overplanned enthusiastic tourist has taken, is not accepted here) would certainly say it was worth it.

The European style imposing entrance

Dolmabahçe means ‘filled-in Gardens’, and before entering the palace after the majestic entrance, you do see beautiful gardens all around. Do take a lot of the photos, because inside photography is not allowed. My friend tried to take some, but was spotted by the guards,who only asked him politely not to do it again. Because not taking photographs when you see something like Ceremonial Hall at the end of the palace tour is just a shame. So here is an image with bent perspective of the impossibly huge hall with a chandelier that was a present from Queen Victoria, because I suppose it is impossible to capture the grandeur of the entire hall in a single frame. Places like these make you feel like staying longer because of the mild fear that there is one bit of detail you might have missed out.

Ceremonial Hall

Dolmabahçe palace is not administered by the Ministry of Culture and is not a full museum, but is administered by Ministry of Palaces, because it is an amazing venue for hosting important summits and State dinners. 

The highlight of Harem tour, that is after the palace tour, is the bed draped in National flag where the father of the Turkish Republic, Kemal Ataturk breathed his last. The clock by the table indicates his time of death. Every year, at 0905 on 10 Nov (Just 1 day after we left, because I did not know of this), the entire nation comes to a standstill in remembrance. Check out a link I have provided at the end and be amazed with the respect he commands. Also, it is recommended to read up about Ataturk, a fascinating figure in the 20th Century whose ideas about secularism in a 96% Sunni Muslim country that once held the keys to the Kaaba are at the same time inspiring and polarising and a bit of a cautionary tale about repercussions of imposing radical changes into a society.

Pro Tip: When I asked for Turkish Coffee with sugar, they gave me a small Lokum (Turkish Delight) with it. It was covered in powdered sugar, so foolishly I put it in, before realising my mistake. So, don't do that. The right way is to take a sip, then take a bite and so on. I had to fish it out with the stirrer. Fortunately, it was still very, very delicious.  

Dolmabahçe is out and out a European palace, a far cry from spartan austerity that is the hallmark of Islamic teachings. It was so overwhelming that we did not possess any more mental strength to go see the painting halls consisting of the works of art commissioned by the Europe loving Sultans and many by the last Caliph, a patron of arts and a painter himself, Abdulmecid II. History buffs will be interested to know that this Caliph’s ousting prompted the Khilafat Movement in India during the WWI. We then headed to ‘check off one of my items on bucket list’, however cheesy and corny it might sound.

Kemal and Fusun  

Orhan Pamuk is a divisive figure in Turkey. His Nobel win is touted by many as political, to force the hand of the state in the suit against him claiming he insulted the republic by recognising or hinting at Armenian Genocide. He is a somewhat liberal figure, not liked by nationalists in general. Mihriban, our hotel receptionist, guide and friend also stated that she disagrees with the politics of Pamuk, but seemed fascinated by the idea of the museum and wondered why she never went there.

Me with each of the 4000 cigarettes that touched Fusun’s lips and had a mark of her lipstick to show for that. Pamuk’s protagonist is a melancholic, lovelorn, a a teeniest bit creepy (at least by today’s standards) 

For people like me, borderline fanboys, we love his fascinating depiction of the mundane and his brilliant analysis and exposition of a nation struggling with its Westernising aspirations and traditions, and his exploration of a city that has a hankering for everything European and longing for the glorious days of the empire. My Name is Red and Istanbul: Memoirs of a City (that I read after coming back) are highly recommended.

Museum of Innocence is also a similar work where the protagonist who is somewhat like the author himself, belonging to the ‘society’ that shuns everything traditional and lives among the cocktail parties and fancy luncheons and everything else Western, falls for his cousin, a girl from a traditional Muslim family living in a crumbling middle class neighbourhood. Kemal has a bit of kleptomania which he likes to call his fascination with ordinary items, and everytime he visits Fusun’s house, he steals a small item from there. Eventually his collection grows so large that he makes a museum out of it, dedicated to Fusun. Orhan Pamuk made the exact museum with every item Kemal ‘stole’ in the book at the location where Fusun’s family ‘lived’. This fascinating concept of a museum complementing a book makes it a must visit if one admires Orhan Pamuk. What more, if you have the book, then your entry is without fee, and on a particular location in the book, there is a box where they stamp it. The book keeps referencing the museum and this stamped space is indeed a part of the story, making the book and museum complete in themself! Each chapter in the book has a shelf with exhibit dedicated so a Pro Tip: Buy an audio guide for only 5 TL. Each exhibit is explained by Orhan Pamuk and an actor essaying the role of Kemal (Yes, Orhan the author indeed makes an appearance in the book. As I said earlier, the book is complete in itself).

Pamuk’s scribbles

It is recommended that one visit the website of Museum of Innocence to check out Orhan Pamuk’s idea of a Museum.

The Most Instagrammable Neighborhood

Karaköy is probably called that because of its interesting graffitis, mesmerizing cobblestoned narrow alleys and the Galata Tower that rises from the middle. Travellers are forewarned that there will be a huge line at the Galata Tower in the peak season. But once you get on the top, you know why.

Galata Tower was built in the Genoese colony as a sentry tower and also as a tower to forewarn about any fire incidents in the city. So it is ironic that the tower itself fell victim to fire, and that is one amongst the umpteen times the tower has been damaged and rebuilt. It is now the primary fixture of the Golden Horn and the Istanbul skyline, and from the top, one can see all of Istanbul, from the Topkapı Palace, Ayasofya and Blue Mosque on one side to brightly illuminated 15 July Martyrs Bridge (formerly called Bosphorus bridge, renamed after the 2016 coup attempt) on the other. We climbed (rather, took an elevator) on top in the evening, in a crisp and beautiful weather, and then something fascinating happened: multiple Ottoman style mosques interspersed across the city start playing the Azan with remarkable synchronization. There are few experiences that are as unforgettable as this one, and this indeed is a quintessential Istanbul experience. It would have been nice to have a çay(chai) at this moment, but we took so much time to soak up the views of the strait and the streets (remember the FOMO anxiety we talked about in the palaces section?), that by the time we went inside to the restaurant at the top of the tower, it was closed.

Galata Tower

There was a 4D Istanbul tour waiting for us downstairs on the 3rd floor though, which takes on this simulated helicopter ride across and inside the major landmarks in the city. It’s fun, despite of it sounding a bit pedestrian (I am talking about the population that finds things like these and roller coasters nothing more than gimmicky); go for it.

The other thing that one must do in Karaköy is simply walk around and soak up the sights and sounds. And eat a delicious, mouthwatering, big baklava at Karaköy Güllüoğlu for 25 TL. Syrupy, crispy, filled with pistachio nuts, one must definitely savour as much baklava as one can while in the city.

Mouthwatering Baklava at Karaköy Güllüoğlu

To Black Sea and beyond

No textbook Istanbul trip is complete without a ferry ride across/in the Bosphorus. Bosphorus, after all gives Istanbul ALL of its identity. Everything that the place is, it’s because of the strait. The strait joins Black Sea and Mediterranean Sea through the Sea of Marmara and The Aegean, making it all important and a prized possession. The location proved so strategic that more than a dozen sieges were attempted on the city, before Mehmed II actually achieved success. Thar is why the Greeks, the Romans, and the Ottomans wanted a piece of it, why Prophet declared that whoever conquers Konstantiniyye is the most blessed. The strait is a clear boundary between the great continents, and more importantly great cultures of Asia and Europe, of Orient and the Occident, and Istanbul is the meeting point, the city with the dual identity. The city is testament to the fact that much of human history, culture and language is all about geography.

Muhammad’s proclamation on the blessed conqueror of Constantinople (Place: Ayasofya) 

So, Bosphorus Cruise. On Sultanahmet, many will try to sell you a cruise that will make a trip of the strait, the golden horn, will have a buffet, all for €20. Or there is the famous Big Bus Istanbul tour where they will take you to an all day tour of all the Istanbul places and a cruise for €30 or 60. You can go for the latter if you are on a layover trip. You can ignore the former; never too good an idea to go with the touts. You can get all the information about a cruise with food and entertainment for €20-60 from the front desk of your hotel, a very good reliable source  of information, and even better if you have a rapport with the receptionist.

Or you can rough it out (not really) and make use of one of the most bang for bucks public transport service (details of Istanbul public transport network will have a dedicated section; don’t worry): Şehir Hatları.

Şehir Hatları is the City run ferry service that, apart from its regular services to and fro the opposite banks of the bosphorus, also runs a 6 hour cruise all for, drumroll please, 25TL! There is one cruise per day and it picks you up from the Eminönü docks at 1000 hrs all the way over to the village of Anadolu-Kavagi near the Black Sea and brings you back by 1630.

The cruise itself was sparsely occupied, probably due to tourist season ending. Which is a boon because in peak season, the cruise gets full pretty quickly. Waiting on Eminönü docks for our ticket we met this guy who had a giant parrot on his shoulder, the size of which freaked out Soumya. He placed the parrot on Soumya’s shoulder and offered that we click a photograph for 15TL  I think. We politely refused, so here’s a stock photo.

The ship had 3 floors, with lower deck having cushioned benches and table a la a classic American diner, with a small stall serving snacks. The mid and top deck were outside, and if you can tolerate the cold, cold breeze, you will see sights unparalleled. As Hagia Sophia, Blue Mosque, Suleymaniye mosque, and Galata Tower to your right seem to get farther and farther away, you get to see the iconic Istanbul skyline which I can never get used to. The first stop is Üsküdar on the Asian side. This neighborhood, considered a bit conservative as opposed to the more liberal and open European side, is famous for its sunset views, which we missed by a few minutes on our last day, but still enjoyed çay  along the banks, where many had set up cushions for tourists and lovebirds to enjoy with Bosphorus views.

As we approach Karaköy, the view is dominated by the imposing Dolmabahçe palace. Along the way you pass 2 of the three bridges that connect Europe to Asia, numerous Bosphorus mansions called Yalis and the castles of Rumelihisari and Anadoluhisari. I did not know at that time, but Rumelihisari or Roman Castle was built by Mehmed II as a sister castle to Anadoluhisari which was on the opposite banks, and together acted as a throat or strait cutter, cutting off the rest of the city before laying siege. Other notable sight were those of gargantuan cargo vessels that sailed by and the seagulls that competed with our cruise, making use of wind currents to float and making loud noises. You will always find these noisy creatures chasing a ship, probably for food, and the Bosphorus is filled with these seagulls; they are what pigeons are to our cities: a regular feature that are sometimes just pest.

Bosphorus Panorama

Our last stop in the onward journey is the tiny fishing village of Anadolu Kavagi, which is directly opposite to the penultimate Rumeli Kavagi. The word Rum is used to denote Roman Anatolia or simply Roman or Rome. The Ottoman Padishah used to have the title of ‘Kayser-i-Rum’, the descendant of the Romans, and omission of this title in diplomatic communication was casus belli, or cause of war. The famed Sufi saint and poet Jalal ad-Din Muhammad has the title ‘Rumi’ attached to him because of his place of operation, in the Anatolian heartland., specifically Konya, an overnight journey from Istanbul by road. Although he is also known by the name Balkhi, placing his origin at Balkh in what is now Afghanistan.

Seafood at AK. Most good restaurants serve a basket of bread by default, a complementary feature. Water, you gotta buy separately.

At the AK, you have a stoppage of 2.5 hours to feast over some delicious seafood (yours truly refrains from meat and prefers to enjoy it vicariously) and visit the Yoros Castle, an outpost built by the Thrace as a strategic watchtower. The village is now occupied by the fishing community and the Turkish Armed Forces. Once you start walking around searching for a place to eat, as in any other Istanbul tourist area like Sultanahmet,the restaurant maitre-d’s (if they can be called that) start to cajole you for your patronage. We chose a seafood place with nice Bosphorus view, and as recommended by the immaculately dressed waiter, ordered a fish and something vegetarian that you don’t care for anyway (although there are good vegetarian options in Turkey). And we ordered Rakı .

Rakı

Rakı is Turkey’s national alcoholic beverage made from rice and has a strong anise or saunf taste. One dilutes the Rakı with water and it turns white from colorless! Soumya exclaimed that it looks like a local beverage popular in Orissa called Handiya.

And it gets you drunk fairly quickly, leaving you in a happy merry kind of stupor that fortunately or unfortunately dissipates within an hour. We were laughing uncontrollably, consuming the lunch extra slowly and by the time we sobered and paid up, we had already spent an hour and a half in the restaurant. Which maybe commonplace in Europe but for the Indians, almost unheard of!

This left us just about half hour to climb up the hill and visit the Yoros castle (fully sober by then, by the way). The castle itself lies in ruins, but the views of deep blue strait that merges into the Black Sea, and the beautiful Yavuz Sultan Selim bridge that straddles the waters gave us the aforementioned FOMO as the time was running out and we would be in trouble if we missed the ferry.

The hastily clicked Yavuz Sultan Selim Bridge. The water body beyond is Black Sea!

The return was mostly spent in soaking up the scenery and staring at the seagulls.

The Ice Cream Trick  

Dondurma is the Turkish ice cream made of a resinous substance that allows it to stick to a surface and defy gravity. This enables the ice cream guys to perform that trick where they pretend to give you the ice cream but snatch it away, drop it but really it sticks to the big handle, do this 3-4 times before handing the ice cream over. 

So then, at Taksim Square where we are being entertained by this ice cream cum performance  I told Soumya in hindi that let’s play the same trick and give him money but take it back. The guy sort of read our mind and pointed at a spot in the table saying ‘Put it here. I have been doing this a long time.’ Ah damn!

Another performance with food we saw was at a Kebab place in Sultanahmet where I ordered a vegetable hot pot, which they served with a sticky rice. They filled the earthen pot with the veggies like mushrooms and put it up on a small stove of smoldering coal, brought it to us and did a little performance before hitting the top of the pot, and off went that piece of pot flying. You will see this trick being performed in many restaurants in Sultanahmet.

Touristy things are fun, who knew.

Find the link to a Dondurma trick at the end. Keep searching for more, fun way to waste more time on YouTube.

Pro Tip: For the vegetarians out there, plenty of mediterranean salads like abaganoush are available in almost all restaurants. Or do what I did in a small restaurant near Cemberlitas: Ordered a chicken roll without the chicken! 

The monument to the Republic at Taksim Square. The gentleman at the front it Mustafa Kemal Ataturk.

So we boasted (or opposite of it) to Mihriban that whatever crowd she thinks we will encounter at Taksim, it can never be as bad as India, because well we are the crowded country, aren’t we? We were proven so wrong at the historical Istiklal Caddesi or Istiklal Avenue near Taksim. Generally we did not find Istanbul crowded, but that may be attributed to the end of peak tourist season. But the crowd  at Istiklal Street on a weekday was comparable to the crowd at, say, Connaught Place or Chandni Chowk! The street is lined with Ottoman era buildings (European style, so perhaps late Ottoman, when European influence became marked), shops, restaurants of all kinds-doner kebabs to your KFCs and Burger Kings, intriguing street performances here and there, and the classic Taksim- Tünel tram line. While the trams running in Istanbul, used for commuting, are all fast and modern built by Alstom, the Taksim- Tünel line has been kept mainly as an attraction, the slow old trams of the olden days. There is just one coach that does the up and down from Taksim to Tünel, and it is crowded by tourists who want the touristy experience of the Old Istanbul. We decided to skip that and just walk the whole way, from Taksim to Tünel and beyond. At Tünel, you have the Funicular line, which is essentially 2 coaches on a long looped rope and pulley mechanism such that when one coach goes up the other goes down. Mainly used to go up and down a sloping, hilly area.

Historical Funicular at Tünel

There are streets that branch out of Istiklal with interesting restaurants, all having a musical performer to entertain their guests. Unfortunately the restaurants are so close that you can here 3-4 guys singing loudly at the same time, resulting in utter cacophony!

We managed to find a vegan Lebanese restaurant in the street, and had delicious falafels there.

The People We Met

Graffiti we encountered on a walk in Beyoğlu

One important component of travel to a place is the people one encounters or meets. While I myself have difficulty in opening up to strangers, it helps if I have a slightly more outgoing companion or a person easy to talk to.

Which is where Mihriban, our 30 something Kurdish friend from Ankara who has a degree in Turkish Literature, likes fitness and does not like Orhan Pamuk, and has a disarming style and persona comes into picture. She also very kindly took us to Suleymaniye Mosque, shop at Mahmut Pasha and the nearby more famous grand bazaar, and a rooftop coffee with lokum with views of Golden Horn and Bosphorus, which the reader may tire of but I most certainly did not.

Turkish Coffee at a rooftop joint

One stop at Mahmut Pasha we took was to buy some Shawls, beautiful silk ones which I later learnt were called stoles. I realised that I was bad at picking clothes for women when Mihriban pooh-poohed almost all of my choices (Thank God). After shopping for a good 8-9 stoles between the two of us, the shopkeeper decided to offer us some çay (tea), instead of giving us further discounts. In a typical Indian manner, we finished the tea while Mihriban had not even reached the halfway mark. This led shopkeeper to exclaim in surprise that we finished it off way to quickly, and Mihriban interjected that we must savour things more deliberately.

From the crowded Mahmut Pasha,filled with vendors selling all the varieties of lokum possible, we moved to the Grand bazaar, another quintessential Istanbul attraction with vendors selling everything from lamps to carpets to tiles to lokum to spices-you know, your typical Oriental market, only way expensive. We did get our hands on some beautiful Iznik tile coasters at Iznik Works in Grand Bazaar. The Iznik form of ceramic pottery originated from the Iznik towns and was very much in demand by Ottomans to decorate their palaces and mosques. Be it Topkapı Palace, Suleymaniye Mosque or Blue Mosque, you will find these tiles adorned as mosaics everywhere.

For some reason, we decided to lunch at the Burger King at Cemberlitas, and I had the one vegetarian option available on the menu- a bean burger. It was yum.

ProTip: There are  types of Lokums that I gather are available. One is a slightly cheaper one that resembles those dense gelatinous halva we have in India. The other types are more expensive (100TL for a kg) that are filled with variety of nuts and have richer flavour diversity. Buy them either from franchise stores like Mado or Hafiz Mustafa or explore on your own, in Sultanahmet, Mahmut Pasha, Grand Bazaar, or that bazaar near Blue Mosque. Also eat tons of Baklava, an advice worth repeating.

ProTip: Much to my frustration, during a bit of googling for this piece, I discovered that Zomato operates in Istanbul! What! And oh, by the way, Wikipedia is banned in Turkey. This I discovered only when I returned. That’s why I was not able to open there.

Mihriban also used to make çay  for us in the evening when we had returned from our trips, and we would discuss about religion, cultures, exercise, family, living in Istanbul, and how Istanbul is the number one destination for bald Arab men to get hair plugs (You see a lot of bald men with bleeding head or head covered with cotton) and so on. Mihriban’s demeanor brought in many friendly guests of the hotel, and one such was a wise old man from London called Abu Bakr John, who came with his wife Hatija. Abu-Bakr was a Mauritian immigrant to London, and had a little bit understanding, at least an inkling of Hindi, because obviously his forefathers were from India. His wife Hatija adored Shah Rukh Khan, just like Mihriban adored Aamir Khan. Mihriban claims to have seen all of his movies and to prove her claim, she referenced the giant colorful ass-chairs the three protagonists of ‘3 Idiots’ sat on. Then we proceeded to talk about the latest bollywood film she watched, ‘Padman’, and I showed her the TED talk of the actual Padman, Arunachalam Muruganantham, on Youtube with Turkish subtitles, which she found pretty delightful.

We also talked about the Turkish TV viewing habits, and how Turkish people prefer watching Indian soaps over local fares, which is more popular in Azerbaijan (Azeris watch Turkish soaps, Turkish watch Indian series, Indians watch American series and Americans just watch their own!) Also, Mihriban, and by her I guess most of the Turkish TV viewers, think that the streets on India is filled with cows, the cows that we worship, which she found amusing. I can’t say I don’t agree with that stereotype.

We also tried to chat with a bunch of Moroccan ladies from Brussels in the lobby. The trouble was that they knew only French and Mihriban had to use Google translate for the simplest of the things. We were also talking about Muslim marriages and the concept of Mehr when the Belgian lady asked whether we were Muslims. I said no. We tried telling her, probably through google Translate that we were from India and we were Hindus, and she just replied “Buddhists?” We nodded and just left it like that. While retiring for the night, we were talking about how difficult French was and I tried to pronounce ‘Au revoir’ as O-re-vwa. One of the Belgian ladies heard us and said what I thought was ‘Au wa’. The guttural r is simply not an Indian thing.

Transportation

This is a Protip chapter. Much to the annoyance of many, I have a love for efficient public transport. And Istanbul’s has one USP: Integration. From Ataturk Airport, if you have to go to say Üsküdar, you can take a taxi that will drive you all the way to one of the Bosphorus bridges and drop you there, and charge a bomb. Airport transport from our hotel, which is on the European side, same as Airport, takes €60, which is astronomical. The cheaper and more pleasurable way is to take a metro from the airport, change at Zeytinburnu or Yenikapi to the tram, take the tram to Eminönü Tram station, cross the road to the Ferry station and hop on to one of the Şehir Hatları cruise. And it is fast with no hassle. Metro has a frequency of 10 min, tram of 2 and boats of 30, and purchasing an Istanbulkart at an automated dispensing machine at every bus, tram or ferry station, which is just 6TL, and rides that are equally nominal means you have covered 20+ km journey in 15-20TL! The transport system that connects the massive city integrates Metro, Bus service, Tram, Funicular, Ferry, and an undersea train service called Marmaray (which we unfortunately did not try).

Istanbul Transportation Map. Zoom/open separately for clearer view. 

The Alstom built trams are ridiculously fast and modern, except the antique one at Taksim. Therefore, be careful when you cross the roads.

TLDR

Hotel: Best place to get a hotel if you are in Istanbul for the first time and if you want to visit all the sites is of course the Sultanahmet area in Fatih district, as major old city attractions are all within walking distance, there is a seaside promenade nearby for sunrise/sunset strolls/jogs, and lot to eat! We booked at Harmony Hotel Istanbul, a cozy hotel with free executive breakfast, a spacious balcony and lounge with great sea view if you get top floor.

Tipping: Something Indians are not too attuned it, but is expected outside. We stuck with the 10%-20% almost across the board (towards the lower side of that range we must admit.) Most places have a tip box where you can contribute.

ATM & Currency: International Debit Cards are accepted almost in all ATMs. Withdraw from ATMs of known international banks or Turkish banks like AKBank or DenizBank. Remember, they all charge 3% conversion charge. Currency can be exchanged at the AKbank counter in the Arrivals of Ataturk airport, or at many exchange (Doviz in Turkish) centres in Sultanahmet, Grand Bazaar or Taksim. We exchange the €50 we had saved for the end of the trip at Ağaoğlu Döviz near Cemberlitas tram stop.

Sultanahmet Area: From Ataturk airport, catch a metro, change to tram at Zeytinburnu or Yenikapi going to Kabatas, get down at Sultanahmet stop. Walk around, it is amazing. See hippodrome with obelisk from Egypt (That was day 0).

Day 1:

Ayasofya or Hagia Sophia: 3 Hrs, 135 TL for combined Ayasofya, Topkapı and Archeology Museum Ticket. (Closed Mondays)

Blue Mosque: Free Entry, but do check out the timings.

Hamam: Turkish bath at Gedikpasa Hamam for 120 TL. Rejuvenating. Pickup from and drop to included in most packages. Contact front desk of your hotel.

Day 2:

Topkapı Palace: Separate tickets for Harem, but worth it. Get an audio guide. (Closed Tuesdays)

Gulhane Park: A park near Topkapı, beautiful, lush and has a mosque within for a prayer.

Day 3:

Istanbul Archeology Museum (Closed Mondays): For history buffs. Artefacts from Mesopotamia, Sumeria, Hittite, Phoenicia, Greeks and Romans.

Dolmabahçe Palace [Location: Karaköy]: Reach by tram from Sultanahmet, get down at Kabatas. Tickets to Palace + Harem is 90 TL. Audio guide is free and is also available in Hindi. Attractions are the European style grandeur, and the resting place of Mustafa Kemal Ataturk. There is an upper limit on number of people allowed, so go as early as possible especially in peak season. Also, no photography inside.

Museum of Innocence: Get down at Tophane Tram station, walk up a hill few hundred meters till you find a small house with vertical banner proclaiming itself as The Museum of Innocence. 40 TL if you don’t have the book, open till 6 (Closed Mondays). Guides available at 5TL with voiceover of the man himself.

Karaköy Güllüoğlu: Get down at Karaköy station and walk. Get a big baklava for 25TL.

Galata Tower: Walkable from Karaköy station. Keep walking towards that tower with the conical top. Roam around in the Karaköy neighbourhood. Expect a line at the Galata. The view is worth it. Also get the 4D ride at 13TL. It’s down at the 2nd floor though.

Day 4:

The Bosphorus Cruise: Starts at 10 AM from Eminönü docks, goes all the way to Anadolu Kavagi and back. Visit for the beautiful Cruise views, seafood and Yoros castle.

Day 5:

Suleymaniye Mosque: Walkable from Sultanahmet, or catch a tram to Bayezit. Sublime. Free reading materials on Islam for those interested.

Shopping at Mahmutpasa and Grand Bazaar: Shawl, lokums, carpets, tiles, lamps etc.

Maiden Tower or  Kız Kulesi, taken from the Asian side. Galata Tower in the European side seen in background

Üsküdar and Kız Kulesi: Ferry from Eminönü . Visit for beautiful sunset if there are no clouds. Sip a çay  as you enjoy the Bosphorus views. Kız Kulesi or Maiden Tower is not worth it.

Day 6:

Basilica Cistern: In the Sultanahmet area, walkeable. Beautifully lit underground water reservoir dating to the Roman Empire. Visit for Roman architecture and columns with Medusa heads on it.

Commemorating Ataturk.

The Dondurma trick

[musingsofmaniacs]

The Battle for Our Souls: Impunity

During a panel discussion on Fox News on separation of children from their parents at border, Zac Petkanas, a Democratic strategist was telling a harrowing tale about one such Mexican child with Down Syndrome undergoing this ordeal. The Border Separation is perhaps the cruellest policy implemented by the Trump Administration’s war on illegal immigrants. Many decried this as unnecessarily heartless and the outcry moved even the staunchest of President’s supporters. The panel discussion took place just after Mexico’s foreign minister spoke of the girl with Down’s Syndrome, who was packed into a crowded cage like other migrant children.

The other person on the panel was Corey Lewandowski, former Trump campaign manager, a firebrand Trumpist and presently, just close to the president. While Petkanas was talking about the girl Corey interjected ‘Womp, Womp’.

You know, the ‘sad trombone’ effect that’s played in films and TV mockingly after a character has a comedic failure? Womp Womp.

Of course, for the rest of the interview Zac just tried to shout him down. Twitterverse obviously erupted at this outrageously disrespectful act, at least the part of Twitter that considers that mocking the extreme suffering of helpless is shameful. And John Oliver made a joke about how St. Peter at the gates of heaven will press a button to open a trapdoor to hell beneath Corey’s feet, and say ‘Womp, Womp’. 

But Corey was unapologetic. He even alleged without evidence that the child’s mother might be a part of child smuggling ring when asked about his stance much later.

***

Observers on the internet are asking ‘How come the world did not pay attention to the fact the MbS is not that covered in glitter of reform and that he is actually a cruel despot because of what was going on in Yemen, until Khashoggi’s grisly murder came to light?’

The first part of the answer is the same as the answer to why a bomb blast in Paris is heard farther than the one in Afghanistan or Syria. Visibility. This is also fueled by Turkish Authorities drawing out blood as slowly as possibly to maximise damage to the Crown Prince. Turkey and Saudi Arabia are on the opposite sides of a messy proxy war in Syria, putting a geopolitical angle into the issue.

The second part is the sheer impunity that the ruling disposition seemed to enjoy, evidenced by this ugly episode more than anything else. As Saudi Arabia shamelessly changed the story everyday, from saying Jamal was alive, to saying he was killed accidentally, to admitting the murder was premeditated, Donald Trump was openly mulling on imprudence of dropping the $110bn weapons deal for a person who was ‘not even a citizen’ of the US. Crown Prince’s father, King Salman, was informed of this much later. Initially it did appear that MbS’ would be reined in from the Carte Blanche his Alzheimer afflicted father had given him. But none of that is going to happen, as the King eventually threw is weight behind his son.

Just think about the audaciousness of the crime- 15 people and a bone saw were flown in on a private jet to Istanbul Ataturk Airport who then murdered a  journalist for WaPo inside the Saudi Consulate, dismembered his body and carried the remains/pieces in suitcases to the Consul’s house. Now the details are emerging that the Police have found Hydrofluoric Acid, one of the most corrosive acids, in the consuls home. Khashoggi, it would appear, was later literally poured down the drain. His sons had to meet with MbS, the man who ordered their father to be murdered in a manner so brutal and ask for his body back, so as to give him a religiously appropriate burial. No chance of that happening.

MbS, in an interview with Bloomberg, had expressed concerns over Jamal’s disappearance and appeared to have assured his sons that the authorities are on the case. Recently, after the Saudi prosecutor admitted that the murder was pre-planned, MbS did a volte-face and expressed to Trump that Khashoggi was a dangerous man.

A CCTV frame grab of Jamal Khashoggi’s fiance Hatice Cengiz waiting outside the consulate of Saudi Arabia at Istanbul. Khashoggi had entered the consulate at around 1 o’clock to collect his divorce papers. When Khashoggi did not appear even after the closing time of the consulate i.e. 3:30, Cengiz alerted Khashoggi’s friend in Turkish government, which started the investigation.

***

Corey, MbS, and Trump have come to represent a particularly corrosive aspect of the times now: The impunity that those in power enjoy. While Corey was dropped from the firm he was working on after the ‘Womp Womp’ incident, his right wing troll devotees have been cheering for him. Trump seems to get away with all kinds of lies, U-Turns and racism. In fact his base seems to revel in Trump tactics, because it ‘makes the liberals cry’. The right wing government in a state India blatantly fans anti-minority hatred and animosity by undertaking a painfully useless exercise of renaming towns from their Muslim name to Hindu name, and calling them out on this seems to be an exercise in futility, because the followers of this ruling disposition thinks that critical thinking bankers and Carnatic musicians and ‘seculars’ are a bigger threat to the nation that the hatemongers. During a panel debate on name change, a right wing spokesperson shuts down a party representative for being Muslim, saying he is a Vishnu bhakt, and will rename a mosque after Vishnu if he does not keep quiet. (Makes me reminisce about a time when people put efforts to make sure they don’t appear communalist while carrying out such agenda. Good ol’ days!).

MbS is testing his impunity the furthest. The killing of Jamal was either one of the stupidest mistakes ever made, or is the scariest way a message has been sent to journalists all over trying to hold those in power to account. The writing on the wall appears clear: No one will touch Saudi government even when they order a murder in a foreign land knowing that they can be easily caught. Journalists are not safe anywhere.

There was once a time that politicians used to tread carefully, a time when even dictators had a semblance of accountability in international arena. If the powers that be keep getting away with everything, then there is no hope for redemption. The only solution to this appears to be calling them out on their BS, however futile that might appear. Boycotting MbS’ Davos in the Desert summit was a good move, as it attempted to hit the crown prince where it hurt the most: his ambitious vision 030 to make Saudi economy diversified and less dependent on oil. Trump’s party lost the House of Representative, although it wasn’t a wave all hoped for (He did claim the election was a tremendous victory, and took credit for whatever Republicans won. Obviously no one batted an eyelid because we are used to it). Right Wing government in other states in India have taken note of the fact that the change people want is not of the names, and are backing off a bit, although there is no telling when a new cycle of stupidity will restart.

Do we get numbed by impunity and stop caring in resignation? Is the sense of justice that is innate in us, our belief that those committing blatant wrongdoings- lying, dividing, intimidating, killing- will have to pay, dying? Will those in power continue to enjoy immunity, as they have been throughout history, and at least now they are not pretending- is that a relief?

It is, more than ever, a battle for our souls.

References:

http://www.hurriyetdailynews.com/turkish-police-found-hydrofluoric-acid-at-saudi-consuls-home-after-khashoggi-killing-report-138686

https://scroll.in/video/901645/watch-will-rename-a-mosque-after-lord-vishnu-bjp-leader-sambit-patra-says-during-tv-debate

https://www.bloomberg.com/news/articles/2018-10-05/saudi-crown-prince-discusses-trump-aramco-arrests-transcript

[musingsofmaniacs]

The Battle for Our Souls

The biggest casualty of strongmen getting elected that not a lot of people talk or think about, because as Trevor Noah puts ‘Ain’t Nobody Has Time for That’, is the social and personal psyche. There are always two ways to win over, rule or lead people. One is to unite them. To appeal to the similarity, to remind them that there are far more things that unite us than divide us. This is difficult, because humans are evolutionarily primed to focus on the contrasts. Woody Allen once said that if only two people remain on earth after rest of humanity has destroyed itself, the left-handed guy will take on the right handed one. Uniting people is slow painful task where success comes in excruciating increments, where for every one step forward, one risks sliding two back.

Or you could just divide people into tribes that hate each other's guts and make sure your tribe votes harder than theirs. This divide-and-rule strategy is as old as humanity itself, though the motto (divide et impera) is attributed to Philip II of Macedonia. Machiavelli called it an effective strategy to weaken enemies.  British used it in India and advanced into the subcontinent at an astounding pace. And Donald Trump used it to propel himself from a joke candidate to a joke President, only it’s not so funny this time.

Trump has succeeded so well in doing this, that his statement about shooting someone at 5th Avenue in New York and getting away with it seems horrifyingly accurate. In Trump’s tribe, The Man can do no wrong, and any evidence against him make people question the facts themselves. As Trump progresses in office, he keeps alienating his opponents more and more, while his base gets consolidated and strengthened by the day. At this rate 2020 will be less of a battle of ideals and issues and more of a ‘Might-is-Right’ contest between two group.

There was an article in The Economist on how moderates have become an extinct species. Moderate voices will always become a casualty when the discourse takes sharp turn towards ideological extremes. The Republican Party has effectively cannibalised voices with veneer of sanity, and replaced them with gun-toting-Bible-thumping-sons-of-soil; where they would rather vote in a peadophile with tribe loyalty than a moderate critical thinking maverick.

Technology was once a great uniter. It helped the cause of democracy with Arab Spring, India’s Anti-Corruption movement, Net Neutrality and so much more. We elevated the Techpreneurs to messianic figures proclaiming the gospel of hyper-connectedness and outreach. Today, we have to an extent confronted the damage these glorified advertising corporations and their tools can inflict on the state of the nation. The Cambridge Analytica scandal has cast Mark as the villian. The fact remains though that it is foolish of us to feign shock over what we always suspected, and in fact knew, these Ad-holes were up to, and that we would gladly give up privacy for the convenience of sharing a selfie of us with our breakfasts.

The mechanism employed to delegitimise the opponent is straight out of Joseph Goebbels playbook. By constantly referring to your opponents with an unkind adjective, like ‘Crooked Hillary’, ‘Low-Energy Jeb’, ‘Lying Ted’, he is making sure these people are dehumanised and reviled by his support base. Constantly badgering people with lies like election fraud, wiretapping, ‘witch hunt’ and crowd size makes the fan base buy into the idea of widespread conspiracy. Hell, Trump has even thrown FBI into jeopardy to increase his support among his base.

The ruling party in India has adopted a similar strategy to delegitimise opposition, with its highly effective social media machinery belting out catchphrases and blurbs like ‘Pappu’ and aggressively sharing memes about how great their Exalted Highness is. The discourse has descended into primitive tribalism so badly, that the supporters are finding it difficult to see any wrong in the rape of an eight year old girl. Systematic, some subtle and some not so subtle, efforts to equate loyalty and blind Nationalism to patriotism is underway. Party spokespersons ask us to be grateful that people are not jailed for speaking out against the government. Leaders bayed for arrest of the family after a man was lynched for alleged possession of beef, conveniently ignoring the brutal mob justice part or even describing the mob as innocent! That the most populous state in the country is now ruled by a fanatic whose government does not regard Taj Mahal as a monument worthy of endorsement. School textbooks are being tweaked to suit the ideology of the ruling party, extolling the virtues of debatable schemes rolled out by the government and disregarding achievements of previous governments.

That’s all OK, but what’s it got to do with you and me?

Image Courtesy: FunEcho, YouTube

Valid question. That takes us to where we started. Let’s begin with Trump. Everytime the POTUS tweets, that becomes the news. Trump is keenly aware of this. And he was a reality TV star. So he keeps peppering them with generous doses of outrageous statements. Martin Scorsese used a similar trick to get Taxi Driver approved with R rating with its bloody scenes. MPAA wanted to give the film an X, but by submitting the film uncut again and again, he desensitised the censors and got them to give an R. We now accept that the leader of the free world will bully anybody who opposes him using unkind words absolutely unbecoming of a man of his stature. We accept that a president can just support Nazis and not expect impeachment at all. As the administration turns the government into a cemetery, the public is letting smaller skeletons slide. In India, the fringe has come out of hiding. We are finding it okay, and even legitimate that there be a sound logic to murder of a senior journalist for her strong views against The Party. Demonising minority community and dissing them openly is becoming more and more mainstream. Leaders who have called for violence against the minorities, who have engineered riots, who have made fake exodus claims, are now finding themselves elected and popular, because they work ‘18 hours’ a day and ‘transfer non-performing bureaucrats’. That when a violent opposition towards a mediocre period drama resulted in a school bus with kids getting stones pelted, the social media devotees defended by commenting at least nobody was injured.  That when pointed about States violating freedom of speech, one gets responses such as ‘Do you have guts to make a movie on the other religion’.

There is a decline in the political and moral discourse. The emphasis is less on merits and demerits of ideas and more on the person or the party behind it. When this happens, debates gets infused with sentimentality. When you have an opposing political stand to a coworker or a friend or family, things get taken personally and suddenly, you are an enemy. You are to them, trying to undermine the effort of a man working 20 hour days trying to save the country from decay that everybody else had wrought upon for 60 years. Imagine the arrogance we allow when we idolise people that were once considered fringe and vilify everybody else who have had an important role to play in the country’s history. Nehru may have made mistakes, but he did what he thought was best for the country. So did Gandhi..

When we mainstreamise the fringe, where do we go from there? When we shut our eyes to rationality and reason and have unquestioning and blind faith in a party or a man, it undoes the centuries worth of works of soldiers and writers and philosophers and saints and statesmen who fought for ideals that ask us to rise above the petty tribalism. The very idea that the ideals, the morals, the rights, the institutions are greater than a person, a party, a caste, a religion or a group might be at stake here. The great war today is not between right and left, between Trump and Dems, between One Man and the 19 odd parties; it is between the works of centuries that has woven a fragile fabric of our socio-economico-politico-moral existence with enough checks and balances and our primitive instincts that threaten to tear it all apart, testing these checks to the limit.

In other words, it's a battle for our collective souls.

References:

1. Taxi Driver: https://books.google.com/books?id=40UTI-uUHpwC&pg=PA108&dq=%22We+got+congratulated+on+changes+that+we+never+made%22&hl=en&sa=X&ei=iU1mUqH7HYeTrgf6kYCQDA&redir_esc=y#v=onepage&q=%22We%20got%20congratulated%20on%20changes%20that%20we%20never%20made%22&f=false

2. The Economist Article: https://www.economist.com/united-states/2016/01/14/the-centre-cannot-hold?fsrc=scn/fb/te/pe/ed/thecentrecannothold

3. The war on textbooks: https://washingtonpost.com/news/worldviews/wp/2018/06/01/indias-new-textbooks-are-promoting-the-prime-ministers-favorite-policies-critics-allege/?noredirect=on&utm_term=.0cfb5af3c8e4

4. Beef over beef: https://firstpost.com/india/dadri-lynching-take-action-against-akhlaqs-kin-for-eating-beef-says-adityanath-2811776.html

[musingsofmaniacs]

Dunkirk: Finding The Heart in a Movie Amidst The Technical Wizardry

The complaint that some critics have against Dunkirk can be summed up by what Kevin Maher of The Times wrote: "[Dunkirk] is 106 clamorous minutes of big-screen bombast that's so concerned with its own spectacle and scale that it neglects to deliver the most crucial element - drama." The film feels like a spectacularly produced Documentary, because, well, there is a spectacular lack of a representative human being to project onto and to relate too.

Let’s address the technical part first. Cinematography is astounding and riveting. The desaturated color palette, which is quintessential Nolan, adds to the chilling feel of the war zone. The scene with the fighting in the air is absolutely insane (because there are few other words to aptly describe the feeling of watching them on the silver screen). Remember that Nolan is not a fan of CGI and thinks of it as a gimmick. That is visible in all action scenes , and especially the air battle sequences. The pilot POV scenes where Spitfires take slanted turnings above and below and the camera following the downed downed aircraft as it slowly crashlands into the water have an effect of drawing the viewer into the action scene and making them a part of it. The sound-mixing, which many described as ear-shattering enough to drown the sound of people talking, makes one feel the intensity of every gunshot, every torpedo, and every machine gun fire that blows up the sand feets up in the air. The music score by Zimmer, Nolan’s old time collaborator is more than a scene enhancement or viewer immersion device. Like most great scores, it tells a story in itself and aids in Nolan’s mission to keep the movie taut and audiences precariously at the edge of their seats.

All this technically mastery will definitely win the movie couple of Oscars and BAFTAs, no doubt. But that is not the biggest take-away from the movie.

The big take-away from the movie is its humanity. Amidst the senselessness of the battle and its inhumanity, where it is doubtful that people get to have long drawn out conversation to convey their thoughts, where one person doesn’t matter too much because there are 400000 of them doomed on the beach, this humanity shines bright. There is no one character that carries the weight of drama for the viewer because no one person is especially important. For a moment, everybody forgets who they are and recognises that before them there is something bigger than themselves. We witness the selflessness of a generation of men who just did whatever was needed. Whether its a pilot we have no backstory of who flies his mission despite knowing that he will run out of fuel, or a young soldier who defends the right of a French soldier when his sinking boat needs a man to leave it in order to stay afloat, about whom again neither he nor we know anything about. In fact, the French guy seldom speaks anything that we understand.

We seea civilian (Mark Rylance) with a boat who rescues a fallen pilot (Cillian Murphy) while sailing to Dunkirk to rescue others. The shellshocked pilot fights with the boatmen because he wants to go home and not Dunkirk. In the process he accidentally injures, George, a help of the yachtman. He feels very sorry for his action and relegates into a corner. The help, a young boy whose biggest dream was to get featured in the local paper, dies of his injuries . The yachtsman's son doesn’t react to his friend’s death, for the fear of upsetting the pilot who killed him. He even tells the pilot that George is alright. And the yachtsman gives him a nod of understanding.

A lesser filmmaker may need to punctuate this scene with emotion, sentimentality and worse, melodrama to address all the substance and the punch it carries. Nolan just needs a nod. Not exposition, not drama, a nod. And I have no wish of explaining the incredible nuance of a scene so pregnant with extraordinary emotions, because once you see it, you realise there is no need for me to. Neither does Nolan need a complex set of emotions for Tom Hardy to display while flying to his doom. He keeps his mask on, and any studio executive would be pissed that a pricey actor’s face is not seen for most of the movie (This is unlike Bane in TDKR, because Bane is an important character and needs the backing of a star).

Through them we understand the great sacrifices that an undertaking like this demands and  that men rose to the occasion and saved the day.They are tired, afraid, and one step away from being killed but they are in this together. Nolan deliberately showed no German, and even mostly refers to them as ‘enemy’ and never mentions Hitler, because he wants to underscore the fact that they are not united by hatred for an external enemy, but desire to go home with the fellow men and actually contribute to the war effort. Because Dunkirk was termed as a colossal military disaster, and rescue of the soldiers as Churchill pointed out, did not amount to victory because wars are not won by evacuation. Still the happy commonfolk welcome the incoming troopers with cheer and beer, soldiers they most probably do not personally know, Thanking the almighty that the boys are alright.

After rescuing 300000 men against Churchill’s requirement of 30000, the commandant heading the operation decides to stay back to get beleaguered French across the channel too. The movie ends with a soldier returning home reading transcript of Churchill's Dunkirk speech while George, with the help of his buddy gets featured in the local paper as a martyr and Tom Hardy’s Spitfire with empty fuel compartment gloriously glides into the beach and breathes its last while its teary eyed pilot is captured by the Germans. And then, like every Christopher Nolan joint, cuts to a black screen.

[musingsofmaniacs]

T2: Nostalgia, Gentrification, and Heroin

The thing that you notice in T2:Trainspotting, released about a year ago, is that it’s not as snappy, as fast, and as exciting as the original. Sure, the soundtrack is intriguing, as is the case with every single Danny Boyle flick, but the sheer energy that bustles through the first film is just not there.

What is there though, is nostalgia of the time when Rent Boy, Sick Boy (now called Simon), Spud and Frank were young and carefree. And the lament of the time that has flown and a life that has been thrown away.

If Trainspotting touched upon the topic of nostalgia, T2 is steeped in it. In the first, Diane tells Mark to grow up and look around because the music has changed and so has the clothes and the world. This Mark also encounters at the nightclub where he finds that despite being a young man 26 years of age, he cannot fit in. He listened to Iggy Pop, a star in the 80s faded out by the end of the decade and talks about Archie Gemmill’s score against Netherlands in 1978 that nobody else really cares about.

T2 shoves the bewildering change that the world has gone through in their faces: A gentrified Edinburgh with influx of immigrants that has moved on, like Mark. Sick Boy and Spud have been shown to have fallen on hard times, with latter struggling with skag and family abandonment and former indulging in extortion and pimping; the people that the rapidly growing world has left behind.

The story in itself is lackluster, and is not the point anyway. One can’t help but feel that the sequel does not match up to the explosive craziness of the former. That somehow, the sequel is slower, sadder, a shadow even of its former self. Which is, in fact, the crux of the movie. The way you feel watching this film reminiscing about how fun the former was (and how much time has passed between the two) is the same way our beloved skagboys feel about the age the former is set in, making this paradoxically the perfect sequel. Through repeated inter-textual montages of the previous movie, Boyle is conveying this longing for the old times these individuals have, when they felt they mattered and belonged, and the sadness in living off the past glory. Don’t get me wrong, the past was pretty shitty for them, but the searing pain of nostalgia is somehow shittier.

Mark thought he had moved forward, but it turned out that he could not really leave Edinburgh after all. Begbie has literally been a in prison for 20 years, and still cannot pass up an opportunity to rough up somebody. Diane, on the other hand, is shown to have moved on with her successful career, away from Mark and the losers, true to her character. Even Mikey Forrester (played by Irvine Welsh himself), the wimp who was too scared in the first film to keep the stolen Heroin for himself, has done well for himself, running a successful vice racket.

Heroin is the one thing that had not changed, and the familiar feeling of ‘thousand -times-better-than-the-best-orgasm’ hits Mark and Simon again when they take the skag after staying clean for 20 years. But what if it is the other way round? Is it that the skag-boys actually return to heroin because they feel left in the wind by the speeding train of life that chugs ahead at full steam? Is it because heroin slows down time and life for a while? Is it that the heroin is an escape because choosing life, big-fucking-television, can opener, selfish brats, stalking lovers on social media, posting about last wank to last breath - the stuff that other people do, is distressing and eventually pointless?

The movie is relevant in the light of the middle-age the post post-modern, hyper-conneted world is going through. Techno-Optimism is at the ebb now, at crossroads, with pushback from those left behind. Those who feel they have been left behind by globalisation, liberalisation, politics, technology, social media, economy, LGBT movement, free trade; steeped in the deep nostalgia and yearning for the return to good old life. Coal jobs, anti-immigration, no political correctness and no tech giants replacing workers.

You see them everywhere, be it at an office with a significant generation gap between management and employees or at a voting booth voting for the most nativist sumbitch on the ticket. Basking in the glory of the older days when they were relevant and threatened by the new tide that might wipe it all out.

And they keep returning to their heroins, voting for the bloated bully who promises them a hit.

Both the movies do end with the message of hope, and beg you to consider, after all, the sanest option:

[musingsofmaniacs]

Like if you Agree, Die if you don't, Share for Revolution

Politically, the world appears to have become a fractious, divisive place; more so than ever. The stupendous degree of connectedness that we feel with each other due to FaceGramTwitApp appears to have brought out about this divisiveness more than ever, because now everything appears to be out there. There is no holding you back, now that you, your friends and million other people believe in the same thing. The other person cannot be right. They are either with us or against us. So what if one or two things they actually say make sense? Their fundamental platform is different from us 1 Million people that are like me, which means they have got to be wrong! The bubble is actually a force field.

***

Your News feed is your confirmation bias hyped up on steroids. This is what the algorithm has been designed to feed you. The more you scroll, the more you agree that you have been right the whole time! That feeling of validation, the rush that of course you are right, there are so many people like you that are different from the sheep bleating away with the rest of the herd. The electric impulses that this Adrenalin hit generates power your fingers to slide down further as you involuntarily bleat a bit.

***

You have avoided confrontation the whole life, obviously. Except when it's two completely different set of people having it at each other either behind the screen or on the street. God you wish you were a part of that fight, hurling abuses like there is no tomorrow, giving that person a piece of your mind before bashing in their skull. Now on your fingertips, a machine lets you to do two of the three things without leaving the comfort of your cushion. There is lot less blood involved, but lets face it, you hate the sight of blood, don’t you. So the screen does you one better. It gives you anonymity. So while you won’t get a real world scratch on your ‘moneymaker’ or on your chest as a sign of struggle, you can take dark pleasures in threats of rape or mutilation or abuse or acid attack. The least it would do is piss off the victim.

***

Also because some people just need to know where their place is. Historically, a few sections have been subjugated, and therefore by extension, protected by the stronger section that therefore, need a wee bit more privilege. Pfft. What’s wrong with that? Women, Lepers, Peasants, Slaves, Blacks; now they have a way to express their opinions, to let the world know of their thoughts?! Can’t let these new progressive wave uproot our traditions. Let me use these modern platforms to preserve my ancient, hierarchical world order. What is this irony warning that you are talking about? I am deaf to it..

***

The Spirit of Tahrir. The Logos have Changed. 

Tahrir was our revolution. We brought Mubarak down. We destroyed Gaddafi, and we destabilised Assad. We stood our ground at the Standing Rock. And then we moved on to the next revolution, our attentions of course grabbed by blue and black dress and the target guy and the cat videos in the interim. Follow up? Revolutionaries never follow up, do they?

Revolutionaries don’t follow up. They elect the troll president falling for ‘alternative news’ and vote their country out of a powerful bloc because it may mean reduction in the number of ‘pakis’ and other humans of browner shade. Too many revolutions, too little time to search, read, process and think. Especially when a freshly baked readymade opinion with enough exclamation marks present in the headlines is being served!!  Fast Food obsession is, like, a ‘psychology’ thing.

***

Which may bring us to highly crucial self indulgent question: What appears to be a point of the rant? Do we hop on a plane to Aleppo, with mortar shells and no WiFi? What about the self aware author who appears to dabble in the same brand of armchair criticism as all of us sheeple are? Huh?

There is no point. Maybe there are a few self obvious ones… like uh… follow up. Make sure the troll doesn’t get elected again etc etc. But actually, a mirror has no point. A mirror just shows as it is. At the risk of waking irony police again, maybe feed less to the narcissist monster in you and have a good look at that mirror.

[musingsofmaniacs]

The Slap that Changed The World

All Muhammad Bouazizi wanted to do was to sell his fruits. But his stall was encroaching the premises of Municipal Office of Tunis. So a policewoman, Fedya Hamdi confronted him about it, and the ensuing argument turned ugly when the police woman slapped him and confiscated his produce. Humiliated, the fruit seller approached higher authorities to have his fruits returned. He was refused. Bouazizi turned hysterical and did something that he would never have thought would change everything.

Muhammad Bouazizi. (Image Courtesy: Wikipedia)

He set himself up on fire. And then, something happened.

Tunisia is surrounded by relatively poor countries, and is among the more prosperous ones. A relatively peaceful and stable, riots were rare. Of course, a despot as the head of the government for a long time came with a slew of problems that are typical of a despotic regime, but all was OK, until that act of self immolation by Muhammad Bouazizi.

Protests broke out, massive in nature. Rioting occurred in streets like never before. The populace rose up against Ben Ali, the president and all the detentions, executions, clampdown, curfew did little to stop the anger that had reached the point of no return. 28 days later Ben Ali fled to Saudi Arabia and after after a few adjustments archetypal of a violent revolution, democracy rushed through to its citizens.

So far so good.

Tahrir Square (Image Courtesy: EPA)

The news reached the world almost immediately, through the social media. It also reached the Egyptian people, who came to a realisation that theirs was a situation remarkably familiar and similar. Protests broke out, fierce, and this time with a much greater coverage. This was probably the watershed moment for Facebook, when it truly transformed from a selfie sharing platform to a force so potent that Hosni Mubarak, the Egyptian strongman was slighted by it. For days end, the protesters sat at Tahrir Square, made new friends from people all over the world, sang the songs of a new era which they were sure of bringing, filmed the brutal acts Mubarak ordered his soldiers to commit towards his own citizens and shared it, and it seemed became one united entity against a brutal regime.  

Hosni stepped down too, and the world romanticised the idea of a protester, a nobody with no money or power, could take on the entire system with their tanks and its missiles. The Time Magazine paid a magnificent tribute to this institution by proclaiming the protester as the ‘Person Of The Year’.

The revolution turned to Libya, where it turned a bit prolonged and ugly. Siege by the people, failure of outside intervention and a brutal conflict between rebels and Muammar Gaddafi’s forces protracted the war for a long time. The vacuum in governance it created created some extremist terrorist movements, many aligned with malicious organizations like the al-Qaeda. In the end, Gaddafi was deposed, dragged through the streets of Sirte, his birthplace, and shot. His body, along with that of his slain sympathizers’ was stored in a freezer at local market and put on display for days.

Gaddafi’s dead body being captured by a smartphone (Image Courtesy: AFP)

The wave, or the spring as it came to be described snaked northwards while all of this happened and reached Bahrain, Yemen, Saudi Arabia, Palestine, Iraq and Syria. It was quickly crushed in Saudi and Bahrain. The regime in Bahrain even went to the extent of razing down a landmark in the capital Manama, called Pearl Roundabout, because protesters were camping around it and the regime feared that the place would become the next Tahrir Square.

As an offshoot, the protests reached even to the countries like USA, India and China. In the latter, it was suppressed as soon as the watchdogs got the whiff of it. In 2011, taking a leaf from the book of their Arabian counterparts on raging against a despotic family dabbing into highly corrupt shenanigans, India decided to take Anti Corruption protests to a new heights and while there were no brutalities as seen in the Arab countries, the movement did change the political landscape of the nation significantly. In the US, the protesters took to the Wall Street to give the finger to the White Collar Mafia that robbed them (and continues to do so) of their wealth by gambling it off all the while filling their pockets.

Arvind Kejriwal during the protests. (Image Courtesy: AFP)

Parallely Vladimir Putin had just begun to flex his muscles. After his meddling in Georgia by sending troops to Abkhazia and South Ossetia Putin had evoked the ire of the Western world. Then he changed the constitution with the help of his lackey Dmitry Medvedev to give him longer term and more power. Then he (allegedly) rigged the general elections, which triggered mass protests and birthed Pussy Riot, but the former KGB agent merrily crushed it all. Then he went on a rampage to make life difficult for opposition, gays and of course journalists. Opponents were conveniently shot or poisoned. It all seemed to lead somewhere.

Pussy Riots, an all girl punk band was a chief Russian Icon of subversion (Image Courtesy:Wikipedia)

In 2014, the nation of Ukraine, a former Soviet territory which gave it one of its heads of the state, begin to boil after Viktor Yanukovych, the erstwhile president refused a closer integration with the EU. A massive pro-EU protests, dubbed the Euromaidan, forced Yanukovych out of Kiev and marked a big victory for the crowd. Until Vladimir Putin decided to take advantage of the situation of a country bitterly divided among pro-Russians and pro-Europeans and annexed Crimea. Since then, Russia has been actively involved in destabilising a pro-Russian Eastern Ukraine, where rebels continue to combat the government and have even accidentally downed a civilian aircraft.

Meanwhile, we return to Syria and Iraq, where the Arab spring turned into a blistering, hot, airless summer. The Bashar al-Assad government was the target of the rebels and the back and forth between rebel and government forces kept continuing. The entire nation was embroiled in a massive civil war, with government resorting to chemical weapons to kill off its own citizens, bombing hospitals and relief camps.  Rebels, like in the case of Libya, began getting infiltrated by fundamentalist elements like al-Qaeda. In areas where government ceased to exist, a power vacuum grew.

And this vacuum was filled by a notorious Salafist terrorist organisation with an aim to create a caliphate. It called it itself Islamic State of Iraq and the Levant, of Syria, and eventually, just the Islamic State. They distinguished themselves by swanky modern videos with professional looks, an aesthetically designed propaganda magazine, and ruthless videos of beheadings and burning.Their first major victory came with the fall of Mosul in Iraq and they rapidly expanded in Syria and Iraq. Barbaric human rights violation alarmed the world, with incidents like killing, raping and pillaging non-Muslim dominated villages, public beheadings and brutalization of the innocents. Obama and friends were forced to step in after initial reluctance, with a sustained bombing campaign in Iraq. IS became the gravest threat to the stability in the region.

Worth mentioning is the red line that Assad crossed, that of chemical weapons. Obama had promised to intervene if Assad used chemical weapons, and Assad did. But Obama was of course wary of going to Middle-East, so he went to the Republican dominated congress, which promptly sent him back. Obama, weakened from a blow by the Republican party as a revenge for Affordable Care Act, then booked a deal with Putin, by which it was agreed that Assad will dismantle all his chemical weapon stock under supervision of OPCW, an organisation that later would go on to win Nobel Prize for its efforts in ridding Syria of huge stockpiles of deadly chemical weapons. It was of course agreed that any further attempts by Govt. forces to gas its people will not go unpunished.

Clearly it did not work.

The human cost of Syrian Civil War (Image Courtesy: UNICEF)

Assad’s govt. found itself at a prospect of another rounds of sanctions after multiple instances of violations were found post the 2013 agreements, and this is when the proverbial shit began to hit the fan. Russia, which had been instrumental in getting the deal on chemical weapons passed started asserting that the chemical weapon was in fact used by the rebel forces and not the Assad regime, an assertion strongly rebutted by the US and the UN. Things got even messier when Russia annexed Crimea from Ukraine illegally in 2014. The entire Western Hemisphere imposed sanctions on Russia. Adding to Russia’s agony were falling oil prices. Cumulatively, Rouble was all but obliterated, and Putin was livid with the current situation. Media continued to get gagged, protestors and opposition continued to get killed, and Putin kept cultivating cult-of-personality persona a la Kims of the DPRK, and selling the dreams of return to the Soviet era superpowerdom. In 2015, Russia finally sent its air force to Syria at Assad’s request, and a beleaguered Assad found himself in a powerful position once again against a host of rebels, some backed by West, some affiliated to al-Qaeda and ISIS  (or ISIL or IS or Daesh) itself.

While the superpowers were playing geopolitical soccer, the real cost of war started to pour in, as they somewhat inconveniently always do. The photos of Alan Kurdi’s body washing over to the beach; a gravely injured, muddied and bloodied Syrian kid with a vanquished look in his eyes; reports of boats capsizing in the Mediterranean; bombing of UN aid trucks, shelters and hospitals, the latter being the most cruel sign of absolute breakdown of humanity itself are all too fresh in the collective memory of the discerning half of the public. The rest, well, they had started to worry about the other problem that such strifes create: Refugees and Immigrants.

UKIP’s Leave Ad and Nigel Farage (Image Courtesy: Getty)

As refugees began pouring in Europe, cracks began to emerge. Conflicts among member states vis-a-vis accommodation of immigrants and refugees coupled with the never ending crowd of refugees pushing against the borders developed into a full blown crisis. Angela Merkel, the de facto leader of Europe and its most powerful leader became the refugee angel for persuading Europe to open its borders, accommodate more people and herself allowed thousands to get into Germany. Initially hailed by her compatriots as a hero, the mood soon soured when hundreds of reports of rapes and molestation emerged in Cologne, one of the key immigrant sanctuary cities. Paris was rocked with deadly terrorist attacks, at the Bataclan and later on at Nice. As refugees continued to pour in, the far right parties which until recently were considered toxically xenophobic started to gain traction among an otherwise highly liberal Europe. Geert Wilders of Netherlands, Alternative fur Deutschland from Germany, Beppe Grillo of Italy, Viktor Orban of Hungary, Norbert Hofer of Austria, and most prominently Marine Le Pen of France and Nigel Farage of UK cashed in on anti-immigrant sentiment, even fanning them when they needed fanning. The best solution these populists found for immigrant and terrorist problem (equal in their eyes) was to leave the European Union. They felt EU’s constricting bureaucracy and its rules meant loss of autonomy and loss of control over their borders.

Europe’s Far Right. Clockwise from Top Left: Norbert Hofer (Austria), Marine Le Pen (France), Beppe Grillo (Italy) and Geert Wilders (Netherlands). Image Courtesy: The Telegraph

Campaigning chiefly on the immigrants and islamophobia (because of course: immigrants  = Terrorists = Muslims), Nigel Farage gained strong foothold for the ‘Leave’ vote. A vote (ill-conceived in hindsight) called by David Cameron to strengthen his pro-European position among his peers and opposition. He miscalculated, grossly. It did not help at all that opposition Jeremy Corbyn’s response was tepid and uninvolved, even though he voiced his support for EU.

In 2012, Greece as at the brink of bankruptcy. A solvency crisis fuelled by unchecked spending and corruption, Greece was on the verge of defaulting its massive loans to EU. If Greece failed to pay, then it would have had no other choice but to leave the EU. A Euro-hostile leftist government headed by arrogant and cocksure leaders did little to help the matters and mush to raise grave concerns over the fact that Greece leaving could mean a major blow to EU, that Greece leaving could create a domino effect that could blow up the Nobel Prize winning bloc and drown the world economy. Bankers and leaders scrambled day and night to come up with a deal and save Greece. They rejoiced, thinking that they had saved EU.

And then UK just exits. The British people vote ‘Leave’. David Cameron resigns. There is a Hindi saying: चींटी पकड़ ली, हाथी जाने दे दिया| Roughly, it translates to “Catching the ant while the Elephant slips away”.

Brexit, as it came to be fashionably known, sent shockwaves across the world. The biggest jolt to established world order and a shot in the arm to the fringe, the people of Britain took a decision that was widely characterized as dangerously reckless by experts all over the world. All of a sudden the world seemed to look unpredictable. Anything could happen.

And ‘anything’ did happen. The Islamophobia, the refugee crisis, and a general lack of charisma took the most unlikely anti-establishment character to the White House: Donald John Trump. The real estate reality star with his names on skyscrapers all across the world. Trump’s win mainly stemmed from a discontent among the working class with what they perceived as ‘elites’ ripping them off, demographic dilution due to immigration and its perceived  effect on jobs, and from discontent among young democrats resulting abstention from voting. Also nudging the scales was intervention by the Russian Intelligence into the elections. Russian state-backed hackers allegedly stole emails from Democrats and Clintons and this leak followed Hillary to her political grave. Trump officials like Mike Flynn and Jeff Sessions were found to be communicating with Russian ambassador Sergei Kislyak and former has been fired. I will not write much about here because it is everywhere. No point in feeding from the same carcass, as John Oliver said.

Divider-in-Chief

Russia continues its operation to this day. Not long ago, Syria decided to use the chemical weapons on civilians. Russia has once again denied the hand of Assad’s forces and blamed it on the rebels. The US was forced to attack a Syrian defence base, where some russian soldiers were also stationed. The relations between Russia and US, once again become frosty. The on again off again relationship continues like a bad soap opera. North Korea’s craziness is now taller than their tall Bond-Villain-Lairesque hotel, and Seoul still remains the world city that can be decimated by a military hardened from punching trees on its way southwards, a ballistic missile that reaches Alaska and a leadership known for its unpredictability. UK has never been in a worse shape, with increasing terror attacks and decreasing confidence in the government. At least Theresa May can thank her stars that her long, hard political career didn’t come to a point where she lost to a candidate with a bucket on his head. Hillary Clinton unfortunately doesn’t have that privilege. The one heartening development amidst the West’s slide to the far-right was election of Emmanuel Macron and defeat of ‘French Trump’, Marine Le Pen. Macron has been hailed as a manna from heaven for Europe, and the indications are that he indeed is.

All Bouazizi wanted to do was sell fruits.

A TL;DR Info-graphic of the politics of this decade. Images that are not flags shown (Clockwise from top right): Euromaidan protests in Kiev, Vladimir Putin, MH17 debris, Alan Kurdi, Donald Trump, Brexit, Narendra Modi, Destruction of Pearl Square, Manama)

Sincerely,

Captain Not So Obvious

Source: As the article is quite exhaustive, I didn’t bother to cite a lot of sources. All information is taken from major Newspapers, Websites, and non-dodgy Wikipedia pages. Readers are welcome to verify the facts, and especially to point out any inadvertent inaccuracies.   

[musingsofmaniacs]

The Wachowskis - Reloaded

“The real violence, the violence I realized was unforgivable, is the violence that we do to ourselves, when we’re too afraid to be who we really are.” 

                                                                              —Nomi, from Sense8

Imagine if, 10 years ago, a transgender director with 2 back-to-back flops that costed $100 million each, whose last hit happened 13 years ago pitches an idea for a science-fiction series centered around 8 people who somehow are psychically connected to each other, dealing with complex issues including LGBT rights , shot in 8 different parts of world including places as far as India, strewn with little known faces. Now she wants you, an executive from The Studio, to throw your money at it. Of course you will turn it down.

That’s why Netflix has been a gift to the world of television. A platform where you could experiment with bold ideas with corporate backing and without tight budgetary constraints and reach the right audiences. One half of the credit goes to Netflix for agreeing to Sense 8, which had its first season coming out in 2015.

The other half of course goes to the visionary duo of Lilly and Lana Wachowski, the Wachowski sisters. Wachowskis are known to be reclusive as they rarely give out interviews, preferring to let their work do the talking. They started as Wachowski Brothers with a little known indie-thriller about a lesbian couple scamming off millions of dollars. But their watershed moment of course came in 1999 with Matrix. The thinking man finally got an action film, and suddenly the whole world started questioning the nature of their reality, while trying to stop imaginary bullets with their hands.

The film is now an undisputed classic changing the landscape of sci-fi films with slo-mo action sequences, slick trench coats, slicker shades and spartan, monochromatic, and polished backgrounds for depicting dystopia. Blending Buddhism, Advaita Hinduism, Christianity, Messianism, existentialism, and nihilism with green tone, smooth action sequence and eclectic music, The Matrix cemented its position as one of the greatest films ever.

There is No Spoon

The sequels were as bad as the part I was good, and the good times made themselves scarce for the duo for considerable part of the next 10 years. Animatrix got a lukewarm response, though it is a recommended watch. The only hit they saw was V for Vendetta, in which they had screenwriting credit. Amidst this, Larry transitioned to Lana and took a break. Speed Racer went kaput, few short movies went unnoticed, a few more Matrix video-games here and there and we arrive at Cloud Atlas.

Cloud Atlas proved to be the most divisive movie of the year. You either loved it or you hated it. It was one of the most difficult-to-film novels, and the story was too risky for big shots like Warner Bros. to back. Cloud Atlas remains the costliest Indie movie ever made, with a budget of 100 Million Dollars which it unfortunately failed to recover.

I happen to belong to the former category, and Cloud Atlas was the film that truly cemented my respect for the duo, making them one of my favorite directors. It only got better with Sense8. So what gives? Why are they brilliant? Are their movies that good? Eh… not really. Many a times, plot feels not-too-fleshed out. Dialog feels too contrived, and this is especially my complaint with Sense8. Acting can get ham-handed to the point that it makes you cringe. Look no further than the Indians in Sense8, Tina Desai and Purab Kohli for proof. Yikes.

But I am eagerly waiting for the second season. And I was bowled over by Cloud Atlas, as I was when I experienced The Matrix. That siblings to bring to us such brave, bold and risky ventures in the face of a possibility abject failure hanging on their heads like a sword is absolutely worth cherishing. It boggles one’s mind to realise that there are multitudes of stories, events and lives that deserve to but will never see the silver screen, because the executives up there are too afraid to lose money or audiences over it, thinking the masses will not accept it. Or the directors feel discomfited stepping even an inch out of their comfort zone, preferring to stay within the neat little boxes that guarantee profits. How many pointless Marvel, DC, X-Men, Fast and Furious sequels have we had to endure that add no value to their respective universes but are sure shot cash cows because the fanboys will gobble it up like an over-sweetened cotton candy? The permutations and combinations of concepts, arcs, elements, and characters that will make for a cinema experience worth remembering but won’t get made, because they may not get the cash registers ringing or they may not pass the censors, is too damn high.

I know, I know, we live in a real world where real money by real people with real stakes are involved and there is nothing wrong in making honest money by making people forget their blues for an hour and half. But are the directors not doing a disservice to their mind-blowing talent by not taking risks and making the movies they really want to make? Joss Whedon, the man who concocted Firefly, is now stuck with making formulaic Avengers films with Tony Stark’s tired smart-ass lines. Steven Spielberg made the god awful Indiana Jones part IV that brought in the dough anyway. James Cameron will resurrect Avatar, a studio requirement that has him tied up and committed to things he would otherwise dread.

Kids, don’t try this at home. Or during a Nuclear Armageddon.

And that is why, when the duo were free from the clutches of The Studio, Cloud Atlas happened. The ambitiousness of the story, the boldness of the concept, and idea and the audacity to spend big money on it and bring it to life is enthralling to see, filling one with hope that the idea of taking risks and walking along the road not taken is not dead. The film, with its scale, depth, and compassion imprints onto the patron, so that they can take the film with them home. More importantly, if one feels that a homage to Wachowskis for their intentions is like a Nobel Prize to Obama for the same, the film is highly enjoyable and entertaining. Hugh Grant, the crown prince of chocolate boys, plays variety of villains, including a barbaric tribal, and that’s another reason why this is a recommended watch. Better still, Hugo Weaving, ‘Mr Anderson’ and a Wachowski favorite, plays an old mean lady, a Nurse Ratched of old age home if you will.

Which makes their push to Sense8, after Cloud Atlas spectacular debacle, all the more laudable. Sense8 has a gay actor hiding his identity, a transgender woman as a part of lesbian couple, a woman fighting misogyny at the highest level, a policeman who inherited a haunting unsolved case,  and a myriad mix of other sensates, struggling with finding their places in the worlds, that are connected mentally, can communicate with each other mentally, can experience things other sensate is experiencing, can possess a fellow sensate’s body and can make love to a fellow sensate! To top it all, an evil organisation is trying to track down these sensates, like a witch hunt.

The opening quote about violence we do unto ourselves, by the transgender character in the series, becomes all the more relevant when you consider the struggle the directors had with their transition. The character who is hiding his sexuality from the world perhaps resonates with Andy hiding the Lilly in her from the world, until it was forced out of her by an evil brand of journalism that the likes of Daily Mail relish in. A great work of art is, after all an artist baring himself onto the celluloid and audience’s gate pass to the the artist’s mind palace. Lilly’s and Lana’s is a dazzling, formidable, brave, fresh, creative and interesting. Netflix is the gatekeeper in shining armor. Buy that ticket.

PS: Tom Tykwer and J Michael Straczynski also share credits for Cloud Atlas and Sense8 respectively. Tykwer is of course the brilliant German director of Run Lola Run fame and latter is the creator of Babylon 5.

PPS: If you are wondering how I conveniently missed Jupiter Ascending, well, while it does nothing to improve the tonality of this article from that of a fanboy ramble to that of an objective piece, I believe the duo do get a few strikes. Besides, 5 minutes into the movie, I couldn’t stand it. Lilly and Lana still have a bit to go to achieve greatness.

[musingsofmaniacs]

Stage Separation

Another Hollowed out cylinder,

metallic, charred

makes a splash

sending fishes and tortoises

scurrying; panic stricken.

Some manage a look

at a trail of cloud,

long, white; nothing

like anything

they’d’ve ever seen.

But I know

what it is,

and I’m glad

that it has left us

soaring, tearing into my mirror

carrying hopes

and dreams and vision

and future

of those tortoises

and those fishes

and those men.

When some like him

do return though,

It is not

an occasion to rejoice,

to celebrate.

A carrier, a bearer

of dreams and hopes

has come crashing;

Losing a fight

with the possessive

mother Earth,

Dragging him back

towards herself.

Mother who does not realise

that he,

the bearer of hope

and vision, is how

Her children will

ensure the future

of them and us.

I pray that

as those dreams

come crashing down,

The men who

weaved them will live

to fight another day.

Meanwhile,

I am more than happy

to accept the baggages

shed by those

that succeed.

for I am vast

and I can take it.

-Captain Not-So-Obvious

[musingsofmaniacs]

Sarabhai vs Sarabhai

Sarabhai vs Sarabhai is a revelation. And a little too politically incorrect.

The show had a ‘brief’ 69 episode run starting 2005, and has now gained a cult fandom for being amazingly far ahead of its time in comparison to its contemporaries. Given the decline of quality programming on Indian Hindi TV, it still is.

Indian television’s programming quality decline sort of coincided with growing popularity of Ekta Kapoor’s mega omnibus ‘Kyunki Saans Bhi Bahu Thi’. ‘Kyunki…’ amazingly was a refreshing concept in itself. It created a viewership and a demand for shows that revolved around and was confined to kitchen politics, mother and daughter-in-law relations and the trappings of an adarsh wife, the venerable Sati Savitri whose steadfast devotion to her husband compels her to make heart rending sacrifices. It tapped into a demographic that was hitherto sidelined or not given much thought to: The Indian Housewife. The Sati Savitri was someone every housewife irrespective of culture or place could identify , and her glamorous dresses and gleaming ‘middle-class’ splendour gave these women something to aspire to. The show sold like hot cake, and the concept, like something hotter.

Ekta concocted an extremely marketable idea, formula-fied it and spawned off its many clones. So did other networks with a glint of obscene amounts of advertising rupees they stood to make in eyes. And there started the problem. The issue was not Kyunki...itself, because it was new, but its insipid copies. The industry forgot to innovate. Completely. Saas-Bahu became a genre in itself, and every network in every single language hopped on to this idea. Reality shows also started becoming popular later, but they mostly consisted of picking up camel shit, bitching, backstabbing and the bukake of obscenities the bald guys doled at contestants. Like Nokia in 2008, Networks are trying to innovate, but are late to the bandwagon. And they are not trying too hard.

[Alright. The all-too-familiar rant ends here. This is where I come to the point and apologise for all the self indulgence too (Oops).]

But amidst this vacuous,empty and unoriginal content, buried in a landfill of progressively deteriorating replicas, Sarabhai… was a breath of fresh air and still is. Many of its tropes have been used before. The most threadbare and hackneyed one has to do with a structure that is almost an international standard in shows that involve crazy, dysfunctional people. It has two types of people: the crazy, unhinged, sociopathic whackos who get all the laughs, and the sane, ‘control’ group, or individual who keeps it all together and afloat, and bears the brunt of it.

Indravadan Sarabhai is a businessman turned prankster who has an almost pathological need to make jokes at the expense of other people, most commonly his son Rosesh, who speaks in a strange, effeminate manner and composes ridiculous poetry. He is coddled by his mother and Indravadan’s wife, Maya, who is a socialite that keeps the company of creme de la creme of the society and shuns everything ‘middle-class’, including and most notably, Monisha, her daughter-in-law and her very antithesis. Holding this all together is the typical sane guy, Sahil, Monisha’s husband and Sarabhais’ elder son. Neurotic Dushyant is the most notable recurring character whose obsession with tech and Rosesh as a demo model brings in more laughs.

The jokes are really funny. Some of them are of course laughably unbelievable and incredulous but for most part, the quality of humour is extremely high, comparable to semi-intelligent sitcoms of the States like Friends. Their use of language and concepts, like homosexuality, porno magazines, strippers, premature ejaculation (oh yes), concepts which hadn’t yet entered into the minds of the discerning viewers as blase, is commendable and very, very refreshing. And risque. This makes one wonder about its reception amongst viewers if it were released today, instead of 2005, when Social Media, entertainment media and journalistic media were not fused into one amorphous and nausea inducing creature and where the twitterati is unable to take a joke and launch into an all-too-self-righteous rant.

In one of the episodes, Rosesh DUIs and hits a man, breaking his legs. Somehow it is made light of and dispensed with and then, in climax, Indravadan does the same, except it's two people this time! Ho ho, what fun! How about when Indravadhan continuously abuses Rosesh for everything, calling him worthless, useless and momma’s boy? Isn’t Rosesh a momma’s boy because daddy has been subjecting him to a barrage of verbal abuse all his life, forcing ‘Momma’ to coddle him to the point where Rosesh has to ask Maya for bathroom permissions?  Another TV series where such mom-son dynamic existed is Arrested Development, and for all its amazing wit and mind-bending jocular references, underneath the surface, we all realise it’s a bit, well… fucked up which made AD a dark comedy.  Maya’s Machiavellian manipulative machinations to assert her authority and control her sons and Indravadhan incendiary pranks disguised as jokes that end up wreaking havoc on the entire family, particularly the one character who is trying to hold it together, the ‘Anchor’, uncovers the extent of dysfunction in this otherwise respectable family.  Maya’s constant taunting of Monisha, even saying she would prefer is Monisha dropped dead, is a little dark for Indian audiences and their sensibilities. Probably.

That doesn’t make it a bad show. In fact if anything, it makes for a terrific show, because not many TV shows will be able to handle the dysfunction that exists in the hunky-dory Sarabhai family, and pack it with what is essentially a laughter riot. On top of it all, they managed to stuff in social satire of the hypocrisies of social butterflies helping hungry kids by hosting cocktail parties and making fun of the ‘middle-class’ which can ill-afford a shopping trip to Paris. An episode that is particularly watchable is where Monisha, the middle-class gawar transforms herself into a ‘sophisticated’ socialite so deftly that Maya looked ‘middle-class’ in front of her. And she crumbled, absolutely. Time and again, we come to know how Maya probably hides behind the veil of sophistication like a puritanical priss from Victorian era to fit into the coveted Page-3 societies. In another episode, we see Monisha and Maya drunk, where Maya confesses the real reason of her dislike for Monisha was that Monisha had a good heart, and Maya could not stand it. Monisha wears her heart on her sleeve, and meekly accepts a barrage of unkind insults from Maya without a retort, and is all probability, Maya cannot stand it. She lost her heart when she was busy coating a thick layer of make-up for the coveted high society, which is a palace of illusion, a fake….

Damn right it is!

And then there is Dushyant, played by the director himself. He is not existential, repressed or demented; just neurotic and funny.

The point is that while Sarabhai… is probably our answer to Arrested Development, and has a lot of elements of maladjustment, existentialism, social commentary, it is in no way marketed like that. That analysis is only for those who have too much time in their hands. It is purely a comedy show with a lot of funny gags. If you want more than just laughs, a food for thought, think about them. Otherwise, sit back and relax. Because Maya is pissed about Monisha selling samosas on discount in a marathon, and Indravadhan has hired a costume actor to scare the bejesus out of Maya.

This is gonna be good.

Poet Laureate Rosesh. If this were a Scandinavian country, somebody would have called child services long ago. Then again, those places always miss all the fun and the sun. :P

Tata to trauma. Alliteration FTW.

Indu Pls.

Yours, ROFLingly

Captain Not-So-Obvious.

[musingsofmaniacs]

Freedom of Speech for Dummies

"What is freedom of expression? Without the freedom to offend, it ceases to exist." -Salman Rushdie

Freedom of Speech is a pain in the behind for authority. They cannot chuck it outright, because in many cases, this really old book called ‘Constitution’ seems to get in the way. Come to think of it, even Constitution can be a pain in the behind for authority.

Which is a good thing obviously. They say that ‘In Democracy, you chose your oppressor’. Your waters are poisoned, your roads are potholed, your children are poorly, your wells are parched. But look, you can rant about your representative, openly blame him/her for your maladies or even condemn at the social order that has seemingly been designed and fine-tuned to oppress you. And sometimes, those complaints catch national or even international attention. There is some hope.

And that is why when creative and not-so-creative ways are found to choke, throttle, maim or downright slay this fundamental right, we take up arms. Because nobody messes with our right to dissent, disagree, dispute, disapprove and demur.

But then you ask “Hey, where do we draw the damn line? Must we tolerate everything that is hurled upon us, that ‘offends our sentiments’?”

I won’t supply an answer. Not in this vitriolic political climate where nobody seems to agree to disagree and where Ratings Whore media persons (At loss in finding a more suitable metaphor. Do pardon my French and my opinionated break from an otherwise mildly objective endeavour) seem eager to shove their opinions down your throat till you agree or you choke. I’ll instead give you examples of how those in power are handling this fundamental freedom in present times, useful for those who are a little behind current times, and let one of the greatest advocates of FoS answer it.

Lets Make Fun of Erdogan

You would think that Europe is one of those places where human rights and freedom of speech are absolutely sacrosanct. Guess what, there is an extremely obscure law in Germany, yes Germany of all places, which has provisions for punishing a citizen for insulting foreign heads. Now this law is so obscure that many politicians and law professionals weren’t aware of it until it showed up in news. And the reason it showed up in news is that Recep Tayyip Erdogan is asking Merkel to prosecute a comedian under that law. Erdogan, an authoritarian dictator chosen by a democratic process, was subject of a satirical poem by a TV presenter Jan Bohmerman. The poem was deliberately distasteful and was, in the words of Bohmerman, meant to explore the limits of satire; to find ‘the line’ between criticism and abusive criticism.

Merkel has approved the prosecution. To her credit, she has promised that the law will be scrapped by 2018. She needs old Recep for her migrant deal though. Erdogan is exactly the kind of leader who will blow a crucial deal concerning lives of millions of refugees over a trifle satire. Turkey’s overreaction is also a response to criticism of its human rights abuses under Erdogan regime. Istanbul protests against Erdogan during the unsuccessful Arab Spring and a shock in recent elections where his party lost majority aptly show the discontent of the people.

Merkel’s apparent helplessness is not gaining sympathy from anybody. Media, foreign counterparts, concerned citizens and people in the world who care enough are appalled. It is indeed surprising that 1) A German citizen is being prosecuted by Germany, one of the most liberal countries in the world, under a law prosecuting a citizen for making fun of a foreign leader 2) Germany has an outdated law prosecuting a citizen for making fun of a foreign leader.

Update: German parliament recently voted to call Ottoman Empire’s massacre of Armenian people as genocide, an extremely contentious and sensitive issue in Turkey. This makes the entire drama a whole lot interesting.

Merkel and Erdogan during happier times

King Bhumibol's dog and Coup d’etat

While we are on Lèse majesté, or insult of the majesty, let’s pay Thailand a visit. Thailand became a democracy in 1932, but retained king as its head. Since then it has been a crime to insult the king. Fair enough, but that begs a question: What constitutes an insult?

A Thai factory worker was arrested for posting ‘sarcastic’ remarks about King Bhumibol Adulyadej’s dog Tongdaeng. Now he faces up to 40 years for the crime.

The law started off by covering only the insult of king, the queen and crown prince, but administrations later expanded it to include Royal development projects, the dynasty, and now apparently, dogs. In 2005, king graciously invited criticisms for himself, stating that if he cannot be criticised, he is not human. But little changes. Thaksin Shinawatra and his opponents filed Lèse majesté cases against each other and in 2006, military dismissed the government on charges of, among other things, king’s insult. Thailand’s political situation has been in doldrums since then and presently, a military dictatorship is at the helm of affairs, who took charge after another coup in 2013. Citizens are waiting for a promised democracy there.

Meanwhile, Rest in Peace Tongdaeng.

Orange Redneck

"There used to be consequences to protesting. There are none anymore. These people are so bad for our country, you have no idea, folks."

If you can’t discern from this quote its speaker… you are lying! Because Ol’ Donald is everywhere! Donald Trump is one of the few leaders who actually advocated moves restricting First Amendment, the one that guarantees free speech, by opening up libel laws to sue free press and ‘win lots of money’. He wants to prosecute people who say ‘nasty’ things about him. He called upon his supporters to ‘punch’ protesters in the face, and even offered to clear their legal fees in case they carry it out. During his billionaire days, when he was not opening up ridiculous business ideas, like the ‘best Steaks’, ‘best Vodka’, ‘Best Mortgage company’ (that he started just before the bubble burst), he was threatening to sue or suing people who said ‘mean’ things to him.

And when his Chicago rally got cancelled due to violent clashes between supporters and opponents, he asks "What happened to freedom of speech?"

The First Amendment Right guarantees that ‘Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.’ And in America freedom is speech is more than a cherished right; it’s sacred. When Pastor Terry Jones of Florida decided to burn Koran as a mark of protest, it sparked a furore all over the world, especially the Islamic Nations. There was a worrying prospect of the video of this protest radicalising youth into terrorism. But US Government expressed utter helplessness about the situation. Also, First Amendment has been expanded so much that lobbying, a clearly corrupt practice, has been interpreted as freedom of speech through money. Nevertheless, US is an inspiration to everyone in the world when it comes to the absolute nature of freedom of press and speech. Yes, as a consequence, many media houses and news channels are now in pockets of rich and wealthy (freedom of speech through money. See?!), but if you look at alarming trends in certain countries, you will be impressed by the degree of freedom US citizens enjoy.

There’s really not much Donald, or for that matter any president can get done, thanks to the limbo that their congress always seems to find itself in. But seeing a presidential candidate spew hate against people who are his critics is worrying, and rise of Donald may set a wholly uncomfortable precedent.

Make America Great Again

Let’s come back to the question: Mustn’t a line be drawn in between?

Aaron Benjamin Sorkin is one of the most famous playwrights and screenwriters. He frequently dwells on political issues in his movies and TV shows. Some of his most well known political fictions include The West Wing, The American President and recently, The Newsroom.

In many episodes of ‘The West Wing’, the issue of burning of American flag is dealt with. Now as a protest form, burning your nation’s flag will definitely rank as highly inflammatory, and many will take it as an insult to the idea of the nation itself. The President got a poll which said that overwhelming majority of Americans wanted an amendment that banned flag burning. The liberal president, played admirably and endearingly by Martin Sheen, responded with a quip “I didn’t know there was a flag burning epidemic in America”.  A pollster even went on to say that by not coming around on this amendment, the President risked votes of conservative Americans and losing re-election. This obviously had president’s advisors worried, until they asked another, more sympathetic pollster. She said that when asked whether they were in favour of an amendment outlawing flag burning, they voted yes overwhelmingly. But when asked how much would this issue matter to them vis-a-vis electing their next Commander-in Chief, mush to the relief of president’s staff, the number was significantly less.

In yet another episode (this was after Sorkin left the show though), Penn and Teller, the magician duo visit president’s daughter’s birthday party. There, in what according to me is the most symbolic of the paramount nature of 1st amendment, Penn rolled up a paper that has actually the first 10 amendments to US Constitution, also known as Bill of Rights (a.k.a the most important piece of paper in America), put a folded star spangled banner inside the cylinder the Bill formed, and lighted the flag on fire! Poof, it’s gone! The flag was gone, but the Bill remained intact. In this process Penn (Teller doesn’t talk) made an important statement about basic freedoms.

Of course, the issue remained that they burnt an American flag inside the freaking White House! A sub-story in the rest of the episode deals with Josh Lyman, Deputy Chief of Staff trying to put out the fire. Penn refuses to apologise, saying it was possible they burned the flag to celebrate the very freedoms that allow them to do so, the very freedoms that the men and women working in White House had sworn to protect.

West Wing is a rather brilliant show that needs to be seen by many more people. Bernie Sanders is a huge fan apparently.

The predecessor of West Wing, Rob Reiner directed and Sorkin scripted The American President, is essentially a love story set in the backdrop of White House politics. Widowed president Andrew Shepherd falls for an environmental lobbyist and begins dating her. This leads to a huge political drama that involves opposition discrediting the president’s character, because of course, character and integrity of a person is directly proportional to amount of sex he/she is having. To further embarrass the President, they dig up an old photo of President’s girlfriend where she is protesting in front of  the White House by burning the flag. After the proverbial excrement impinges upon the rotating ceiling mounted coolers and president’s ratings tank, the President decides to speak up, and here’s what he has to say about the freedom of speech.

‘America isn't easy. America is advanced citizenship. You've gotta want it bad, 'cause it's gonna put up a fight. It's gonna say, "You want free speech? Let's see you acknowledge a man whose words make your blood boil, who's standing center stage and advocating at the top of his lungs that which you would spend a lifetime opposing at the top of yours." You want to claim this land as the land of the free? Then the symbol of your country cannot just be a flag. The symbol also has to be one of its citizens exercising his right to burn that flag in protest. Now show me that, defend that, celebrate that in your classrooms.

Then you can stand up and sing about the land of the free.’

I mean, man, look at those lines! Look at the lines about acknowledging the man who makes your blood boil. Sorkin’s masterful play with words effortlessly raise the intelligence, integrity and importance of his characters and inspires us to think about, uphold and cherish very ideals that we take for granted. Current political climate in both US and India really need an update in this respect.

Society needs debates; debates where two opposing parties with fierce beliefs in their ideals clash together. Clamour of their masterful words echo across the hall and every statement informs and enriched you of the other perspective. Everybody’s opinion is encouraged and all sides are equally placed in front of you to form an informed opinion. Whether you take Christopher Hitchen’s side on the absolutism of first amendment, or Shashi Tharoor’s side on freedom with responsibility and limit, respecting the right of another person to have an opinion is to be held paramount. In their public debate, Tharoor and Hitchens, both extremely eloquent, passionately argue about their positions, take turns, really listen to each others and allow their opponent to speak. The link of this wonderful debate is provided at the end of the article.

Time and again, this meta-debate occupies our news, and there is no indication that it will be resolved anytime in the future. Older examples like Satanic verses controversy, the Jyllands-Posten cartoon debates and the newer ones here highlight the classic dichotomy of the right to express. I’ll now leave it up to the reader to weigh, deliberate and decide where they stand.

Respectfully,

Captain Not So Obvious.

Click here for Tharoor and Hitchens Debate.

[musingsofmaniacs]

Our Coke Bottle

“Hey, have you ever heard about the Sentinelese People in the Andaman Islands.”

“I have. I think you have mentioned it before.” she replied.

“Aww. You don’t remember what I said?” Mock sadness.

“You yap a lot. Mostly interesting I admit, but a mind can store only so much. Go on anyway, as you intended to.”

“So as I have said, they are these people on an island in the Andamans who have never had any contact with the outside world. Ever. Untouched by the modern people, tucked away in a remote island, left to their own elements.”

“Uh huh.”

“I mean, it is so interesting, from an academic point of view at least. You would be nonplussed to even imagine such a people. Even the remotest of the tribes, in Africa, freaking Africa, probably have an idea or at least an inkling of a society outside. And on the Indian territory there is an untouched unspoilt civilisation. Living in the bliss of their primordial existence, happily hunting for food, sexing around in open…”

“Do they?” She interrupted.

“Well, we wouldn’t know for sure. Govt. has banned anyone from entering that island, for the fear that they may spread a disease that the islanders have never encountered. Remember what happened with the Native Americans when settlers brought smallpox with them? Also any attempt to establish contact or study them have met stiff resistance from the people. They sure know the utility of a pointy end on a stick.

A picture from one of the attempts to establish contacts.

“Which makes one wonder, what if we did? What if we threw down a piece of modern gadgetry. A laptop or a phone for example, that seems absolutely blase to us but would be nothing short of a supernatural for them? After all, any technology sufficiently advanced is indistinguishable from magic.”

“Arthur C Clarke.” She helpfully offered.

“Yeah. Well, that act would fucking destroy them.”

“Somebody has been watching Gods Must Be Crazy.”

“Ha. Thought you would say that. Exactly like Gods Must Be Crazy. A random guy dropping a bottle of coke from a plane sure says something about the strength of the bottle. A person of the uncontacted Kalahari tribe stumbles upon it and it turns their small utopia upside down.

“Of course they initially take it as a blessing from the guy up above and put it to a lot of good and ingenious uses. Beating of skins, collecting water extracted from barks, cleaning snakeskins, they are very happy with that handy blessing.

“Alas, fights break out soon. Every person of that family wanted the bottle for themselves and fights began. Individuals who had no concept of possession of private property and who shared everything began coveting it for their sole use. It peaks with a child hitting another on his head with the bottle, an aggressive behavior their families had never seen before.”

“The ultimate socialist utopia usurped by the lures of capitalist mores.”

“I would call them libertarian, because there is no government, no regulatory body that imposes its will. Everybody follows a fixed set of rules. Each one is a cog in the wheel of a great family machine.

“Anyway, Now the Chief bushman is perplexed. Why would the kind God send an object of disquiet and disruption? He tries to return it to the God by flinging it towards the said God up in the air. Predictably, thanks to gravity, it returns. And thus he embarks in a great journey to get rid of the bottle by throwing it beyond ‘the end of the world.”

“Amidst modern humans and their puzzling shenanigans, African warlords, and a strife that wonderfully contrasts a simple bushman life, the tribesman finally finds what he was looking for. A huge valley covered with clouds. Thinking of it as the world’s end, he throws the bottle away and finally gets rid of it.

“And those bushmen in the Kalahari desert lived peacefully undisturbed and happily ever after. Or at least until the sequel.

“As a modern society, I wonder what our Coke bottle is, and will we ever throw it away at the end of the world?”

Captain Not-So-Obvious

[musingsofmaniacs]

Spotlight - Review and Reflections

“If it takes a village to raise a child, it takes a village to abuse one.”

-Mitchell Garabedian (played by Stanley Tucci), Spotlight

Spotlight, as most of us know by now, is based on the Pulitzer winning exposé of a string of sexual abuse of young children by a few Catholic Church Priests under the Archdiocese of Boston. But it is also about the complicity of the Catholic Church which systematically swept all such incidents under the carpet. The Priests would get transferred to another Parish and the family would get a monetary compensation as a part of their settlement provided, of course, that they sign a nondisclosure. The priest would move to a new location and continue the abuse and the cycle would go on and on. Dirty lawyers, police, civic authorities, everyone would play along and the abused kids would be scarred for life.

Ponder over the aforementioned quote. Boston is demographically composed of mostly Catholics of Irish descent having a very close relationship with the church. As a character in the movie helpfully offers, beneath the facade of a skyscraper riddled skyline lies a small town, a Parish rather, revolving around the clergy. The institutions work together for the ‘good’ of the great city and it is only ‘natural’ that incidents like these that cause major furore and upset be hushed up.

As the movie shows, there was a pattern to the victims. The victims almost always belonged to the underprivileged families with troubled atmosphere. In such home, a priest was god incarnate. For kids with deadbeat dads or no dads, a priest was obviously a father figure, and these Priests easily won their confidence. One such man, whose story has been dramatised, describes his struggle with homosexuality in a conservative neighbor when he met the priest who pretended to sympathise with this person. it did not take long for this child to pine for the priest’s approval and deify the priest.

Then one day, the priest got the kid to give him a blowjob. And then he did it again. And again. And again.

As pointed out rightly, this was not just sexual, but mental and spiritual abuse too. These abused kids are most likely to turn into abusive spouses, parents, drug addicts and depressive, suicidal and broken human beings. The vicious cycle continues.

This film is not their story. Sure, this heinous scandal forms a major part of the narrative, but the film is about the brave individuals who relentlessly pursued the matter in the face of resistance and powerful institutional opposition. This film is about the good old fashioned journalism where facts mattered more than fiction, double confirmation was holier than Bible and uncovering the truth at the cost of pissing of the mighty was considered the sacred duty. In the face of resistance from a senior, the Church, lawyers, city officials, and lobbyists, the sheer perseverance and determination of the Spotlight team of Boston Globe shook not only the Boston Archdiocese, but the entire Catholic Church, right up to the Vatican. Major cases of sexual abuse were soon uncovered all over the world, from Melbourne to Ulloor, New York to Santiago. The performances of Mark Ruffalo, Rachel McAdams, Michael Keaton, Liev Schreiber, John Slattery, brian D’Arcy James were outstanding.

There are no important dialogues that are memorable or stand out, aside from the one mentioned in the beginning. There are no iconic scenes that you will relive, re-enact and replay. There are no characters that were larger than life, out of the ordinary or dominating the narrative. All of them are simple everyday people who believed in a cause with a hunger in the belly to uncover the truth. And these extraordinary individuals uncovered the greatest scandal engulfing one of the most important institutions of the lives of common people. Vatican, the current Archbishop of Boston and many Catholic leaders have heaped praise upon the movie for straightforwardly and truthfully bringing to us the story of the most important act of investigative journalism in the last decade.

The Spotlight team of Boston Globe is the oldest investigative journalism team, existing since 1970. They were awarded Pulitzer for this in 2003. In this image, you can see Mike Rezendes, the key person in the Spotlight team responsible for the exposé, flanked by Rachel McAdams and directly behind the guy speaking on the mike. Mark Ruffalo played him in the movie.

There is a scene in the movie when Rezendes desperately wants to publish the story before Globe’s rival Herald got hold of the story. He has story on most of the Priests accused of abuse and wants to publish it fast. But the editor warns him that their main aim is not to nail the Priests but exposing the system itself, which allows such practice to continue right under its nose. In response, Rezendes gives an angry, impactful speech about the victims, justice and ‘nailing scumbags’. The editor replies ‘You done?’ and walks away. Later on, more facts are uncovered which eventually nail the Archdiocese and the system. They have a term for this.

Its called Integrity.

Amidst all this din of 24 hour news with race for advertisement money and TV ratings, and making news more entertaining, the feeble voice of integrity is dimming out and on the verge of extinction. TV journalists and media persons are encouraged to watch this film, sit with a glass of finest Blue Label and do some soul searching.

The headline that shook the entire Catholic establishment

Captain Not-So-Obvious

[musingsofmaniacs]

The Five Year Fan-girling

I’ve reviewed To Kill a Mockingbird (TKAM henceforth) quite a few times and it has always begun with what according to me is the crux of the book:

‘Shoot all the blue jays you want, if you can hit them. But remember, it’s a sin to kill a mockingbird.’

With her easy narration and description of events, Ms. Lee portrays a simple world in TKAM. Post abolition, set in the Southern part of the United States of America, Maycomb County was a tiny town far enough from the outside world to be susceptible to change. Never directly addressing the evident race system in suburban America but rather incorporating it in the easy monologue, she maintains as an endearing description of everyday life. This she accomplishes through the charm of a quirky 8 year old who sees the world in black and white instead of the fifty shades of red it is.

Every book you read changes you, they say. But nothing has affected me in a manner that TKAM did. I read it five years ago but the charm of plain old goodness, justice, standing up for what you believe in and unconditional love and understanding the book exudes has been something I’ve strived to attain. I loved the narration, the ideology, the characters of Scout and Jem and Dill, their action-packed adventures and their views on life. However, what affected me the most was the personality of Atticus Finch. I’ve always been a person who has idolized no one more than my own parents. If could say there was someone I could look up to and state confidently ‘He is a gentleman, in his heart, he is a gentleman’ it would have been them. Post TKAM, Atticus joined the list.

Atticus Finch was a character that changed thousands, if not millions, of other idealists as individuals, and I proudly count myself in the list. The morals he raised his children with and the representation of justice and righteousness left me charmed. The idea of not discriminating or judging based upon appearances, age, and race or as in the case of Boo Radley or the black folks in general, presumptions made about people resonated with me. All impertinence were dispelled with a quick wave of the hand. Quoting Go Set a Watchman (GSAW), ‘Integrity, humor and patience were the three words for Atticus.’

Ever since I heard first that Ms. Lee is getting out GSAW, I knew I had to read it. My hunt for GSAW began in May. To my delight, it was released on my birthday and I had plans of rushing to the stores and holding the first copy in my hands, but it turned out that I was in Switzerland on my birthday (notice how I’ve slipped it in very casually) and I couldn’t find anything written in the English language. I had even set aside some money from my chocolate and cheese budget to buy this. Damn my German illiteracy. The first day upon return, I read a review of GSAW titled “Atticus a bigot?” My heart was thrashing away within my chest. I’ve not been this tense reading my grade statement, and that is saying something. I read the review till the point where the author mentions that Dill doesn’t appear, Jem was dead and Atticus was a bigot (was he now?). Then I made up my mind that I wasn’t going to let the book, or the review for that matter, as I put the paper down, spoil TKAM for me.

Nearly a semester down the lane, after I had stubbornly refused all offers lending me the book, a friend attempted to convince me into reading it saying that I might appreciate the idea behind the book. I bought it in November and put off reading it until mid-December. The day I did pick it up, it was because I remembered somebody telling me that it’s a perspective and one that must be seen objectively. So with a deep breath and all the necessary dramatism I sat down with it and soon enough, the wit and charm of the narration had me hooked.

With the simple beginnings that some criticized as too long, to the points when Scout questioned her existence, every bit of it was something I could relate to. ‘Every man’s watchman is his conscience.’ Uncle Jack said that Scout had latched her conscience to Atticus’. I feel that I had too to Atticus, and to my mum and dad. Everything I believed in was moulded by my parents, and it’s hard to accept sometimes when they have different views. I remember the time I argued about LGBT rights with them. They were staunchly opposed to it and that left me flabbergasted. I couldn’t understand it and I didn’t want to. After this incident, Atticus was the only moral compass I could adhere to, which is why I think it is an incredible turn of events that GSAW was even published. For me, the book was about growing up. Sometimes, there are incidents and people who make you what you are. As life progresses we tend to idolize and glorify them. ‘As you grew up, when you were grown, totally unknown to yourself, you confused your father with God.’ We see them in a light that leaves us incapable of observing the delicate human flaws. ‘You never saw him as a man with a man’s heart and a man’s failings.’ It is as you mature as individuals in this society that you begin to see the world for what it actually is, and when you do, it’s just not bearable anymore.

All those emotions that Scout felt, the indignation, the betrayal, the inability to understand, I felt it with her. By the time I was done with it, I had experienced some crazy emotions. Half way through the book I was crying with joy at some of the really tiny, beautiful things. And a little further into it, I sobbed uncontrollably at the way it all made sense. ‘Come to me. When you can’t stand it any longer, come to me.’

GSAW was not what anybody expected, to say the least. With a dead Jem, a Europe loving Dill, an uncaring Calpurnia, and a racist Atticus, the book did not promise to be much. Only it was, and much more. Some things did not change: Scout was absolutely and irrevocably feminist beyond repair and still as confused as her 8 year old counterpart. The ideas, although many argue have changed, appear to me to be the same, only through a different channel: Uncle Jack rather than Atticus. The concept of humanizing Atticus, though shattering, served as an important life lesson to all in awe of the figure: everybody is human and everybody is their own.

‘Every man’s island, Jean Louise, every man’s watchman, is his conscience.’

Captain In-Your-Face.

[musingsofmaniacs]

Learning To Stop Changing Names and Loving The Country

There is a popular joke about politicians that they change the name of a city because they can change little else. It might as well be a true story because evidence in its support has piled high enough. Now with a renewed demand from right wing fringe elements to change Ahmedabad to Karnavati and a petition before a court to change the name of the country itself is just pushing it.

Quick question. How would you like to go to Magyarorszag? Did you know that Helvetica has not joined the EU? How about Hrvtska, where GoT was shot? And while you are at it, might as well pay a visit to Suomi, Deutschland, Eire and Cymru.

Alright, the know it alls among you might have guessed Switzerland from its namesake font (technically, it’s a Latin name) and Germany from your failed attempt to learn a new foreign language. But for the rest of the names and the rest of the audience, here’s the list with the english names in order: Hungary, Switzerland, Croatia, Finland, Germany, Ireland and Wales.

Get it? Shakespeare could not have been further from the truth. If your country has a name in native language that is poles apart from its english counterpart, you will be doing your tourism and businesses the biggest favour by incorporating both in your vocabulary and using it appropriately. After all, name is not just a name, it’s a brand. It is what sticks with the layman back home half the world away from you trying to use a Finnish phone in a German car eating Swiss chocolate and watching a Welsh actor beat the shit out of a terrifying clown portrayed by his Australian counterpart. And this layman and his fellow countrymen drive the demand-supply equations that drive the markets and make this rockin’ world go round (beg pardon for obscure reference). He will look at you puzzled when you try selling him a gadget by bragging about it’s ‘Made in Nihon’ tag. Then you explain that Nihon is Japanese for Japan and that Japanese government in its new Japanese patriotic fervour decided to rechristen the country to it's Japanese name.

You may argue that after exclaiming about the stupid move by the Japanese, he will buy the phone after all, because those babies sell themselves regardless of politicians’ crazies. But what about the countries that are still emerging and need a lot of that sweet sweet soft power to forward their economic agenda? Yes, soft power sells. Just ask the malls trying to be as American as possible and minting money in the process. We are talking about India here.

Good bay. That’s what ‘Bom Bahia’ means. Bombay derives its name from that. In 1995, the organisation that’s demanding Karnavati for Ahmedabad now was in power in Maharashtra and decided to change the name forever to Mumbai. Mumbai derives its moniker from Mumbadevi, goddess of one of the several fishing that form present day Mumbai, until the Portuguese took control. Then Catherine of Braganza got married to Charles I and a part of Tanzania and the seven islands of Bombay passed on to the British as dowry. It took century or two to established the city has the chief trading hub in entire South Asia and a gateway to the mystical land of India. Then the renaming happened and the brand value acquired by Bombay over the years was now in jeopardy. Not much of an impediment now, but in hindsight, not worth the trouble and the dirty fringe politic. Now another fun quiz: name the most famous stretch of seaside road in the city. Its Netaji Subhash Chandra Road. What the hell is that? The correct question is, what was it called earlier, and probably still in use today? Answer: Marine Drive.

A year after Mumbai, Madras went next. The powers that be decided that Madras had, like its Western counterpart, a Portuguese origin(Madre de Deus, meaning Mother of God) and changed it to Chennai. Now, Madras like Bombay, was emerging as a world destination after India opened its doors to outside, and we can safely assume that this move might have set them back. Calcutta and Bombay at least sound like their Anglicised (or Lusitanised, if you will) names that were allowed to percolate into the international subconscious before it was abruptly changed. Chennai and Madras have zero correlation between their names! Of course their airport codes remain the same (BOM, MAA, CCU), much to the confusion of foreigners and a few new-gen Indians.

The explanation given for all this idiocy, as you have guessed, sentimental. Nothing like the catharsis of kicking out a colonial name and showing the finger to the imperialism that we continue to blame for most of our ills. Question is, what beyond that? It continues to rain in Chennai in November, Mumbai real estate prices continue to illegally get jacked up to galactic heights by the mafia, and Kolkata is in a perpetual state of crumbling-under-its-own-weight? You know what, now that I remember, the joke in the para is not fictional at all, and a politician did actually have the gall to say that. And when a politician jokes about his incompetence or his apathy, it is no longer funny.

What are we running from. Our Imperial legacy? The biggest of it all, the English language, is the language that unites a country like ours. In that case, isn’t the entire exercise of renaming things in the name of boosting nationalistic pride an exercise in futility? Haven’t we already accepted English and in fact moulded it to our own tastes and made it as Indian as any other Indian language? Then why not accept the colonial past instead of trying our best to wipe every last remnants of it. What is the point in wasting a lot of money and time and risk the brand value for a cosmetic boost to our collective self esteem? We cannot move on into the future while our feet are stuck in the muck of the past.

The agenda behind attempts to rename Ahmedabad (which will be grossly unsuccessful anyway) reeks of nefariousness that the city or the country really, really doesn’t need and I’ll refrain from expounding on the topic any further. Regarding renaming the country, I needn’t tell you that the consequences will be catastrophic for our slowly growing soft power and influence over the world. How about we let it be both India and Bharat and get back to actually concentrating on, you know, development? How about we forget about changing the name and change the country itself for the better?

Jai Hind,

Captain Not-So-Obvious.

[musingsofmaniacs]

Life and Times of Captain In-Yo-Face

It was my first day at school. Not play school but real school complete with uniforms and tiffin boxes and everything. I wasn’t sure if I would be able to handle the whole responsibility. I mean, this is real school we’re talking about! The arrangement was that my dad would drop me off at school and my mum would pick me up. Of course it was implied that when he dropped me at school, he would check if I’d been allotted a class and so on, but as dads often do, he forgot that I’m just an ordinary four year old who knew neither English nor Kannada (the school was at Bangalore where we had recently shifted to). He dropped me at the main gate of the school and pointed in the general direction of the Reception and told me to go there. And away he went hurrying so as to not be late for office.

So equipped with my mushroom haircut, a school bag that came up to my knees, a lunch basket and trying hard not to cry, I set off to meet whom I thought was the reception. Reaching the school canteen, I walked over to the first table I saw. Unable to see over any table, I went around one and asked the seemingly pleasant ladies in uniforms eating idli there if I was speaking to the reception. The girls understood nothing of what I said and continued eating their breakfast ignoring me. This and the sorrow of being away from the comforts of my bed infuriated me. I gave them a piece of my mind in all the languages I thought I knew until the canteen staff picked me up and deposited me at the reception. By this time I was half an hour late and had forgotten my last name. Thankfully there was only one Ritu in the Nursery division and thus, I was escorted to my new class where I learnt my ABCs and 123s. All was good until the break when I realize that the kids speak no Malayalam and I know no Kannada. We were encouraged to speak in English, though nobody seemed to know what this whole English thing was all about.

So while some of the kids went about chatting away, and some went bawling for their parents, poor old me sat in a corner and ate my food. Bored with the illiterate company, who didn’t seem to understand my philosophies of life, I wandered out of class without the knowledge of my teacher and before I knew it, I was lost again. But that was alright. There was a class going on that seemed interesting and much to the amusement of the teacher and the class, I walked in and sat down on the desk and turned towards the board and tried understanding the ugly looking artwork. I was handed over to the ayah who took me to meet the reception again. The receptionists recognized me and took me back to class immediately.

Later that afternoon, when my mum came to pick me up, she found me engrossed in making a collage and realized then and there that I was never going to be an artist. But as I walked out of the gates of school, I felt accomplished. Not because of the whole collage thing, but because I had survived the first day of school scare. And also I had met a lot of new people that day: the class teacher, the students, the other class teacher, the ayah, the reception. And I would be meeting more tomorrow, or so I hoped. Unfortunately, for the next few days, I was to sit beside the class teacher so I didn’t wander or get lost again, but the adventurer in me didn’t die. I tried running out a couple of times and crawling out a few other. Got caught of course, but what can I say, you get some, some you don’t.

Cheers,

Captain In-Your-Face