East and West.
Europe and Asia.
Islam and Christendom.
Capitalism and Communism.
Old grace and new hope.
Byzantium. Constantinople. Istanbul.
Am I welcome?
Tuesday, 30 June 2009
Tape
I need a Certificate of Legal Capacity to Marry from the Indian Embassy in Manila. So, I need to submit a few documents before attending an interview with my fiance and she has to submit a few documents.
These documents include, but are not limited to:
- An affidavit from me saying I am single, attested by a lawyer in Singapore, endorsed by the Indian Embassy in Singapore. For this, I need to submit an oath from my parents taken in a court of law in Chennai confirming I am single, attested by a notary in Chennai, endorsed by the Indian Embassy in Singapore. For these, I need to appear at the Indian Embassy in Singapore, just five times, queueing up for a total of 4 hours. I stopped counting the dollars and rupees.
- A letter from my employer stating that I am a Singapore resident, gainfully employed.
I also need a letter from a religious authority in Chennai that confirms I am a Hindu Brahmin. In secular India, nobody is willing to do this, without the appropriate connections and a suitable fee.
And, this is just the beginning.
Somebody has just dropped a roll of tape. Red.
These documents include, but are not limited to:
- An affidavit from me saying I am single, attested by a lawyer in Singapore, endorsed by the Indian Embassy in Singapore. For this, I need to submit an oath from my parents taken in a court of law in Chennai confirming I am single, attested by a notary in Chennai, endorsed by the Indian Embassy in Singapore. For these, I need to appear at the Indian Embassy in Singapore, just five times, queueing up for a total of 4 hours. I stopped counting the dollars and rupees.
- A letter from my employer stating that I am a Singapore resident, gainfully employed.
I also need a letter from a religious authority in Chennai that confirms I am a Hindu Brahmin. In secular India, nobody is willing to do this, without the appropriate connections and a suitable fee.
And, this is just the beginning.
Somebody has just dropped a roll of tape. Red.
Luck
Today, I signed up for the Borders lucky draw. They have put up a list of books online and ask you to vote for your favorite book. The top 100 choices will be announced. One lucky winner gets a full set of these 100 most popular titles.
That's a piece of luck, I just would not mind.
(Catcher in the Rye, J D Salinger, by the way)
That's a piece of luck, I just would not mind.
(Catcher in the Rye, J D Salinger, by the way)
Waste
These posters were up for a week, maybe. A real waste, it would seem, but for the few mouths that got fed putting them up and taking them down. In fact, I walked through this underpass at least three times, and just don't remember what the posters were about.
Monday, 29 June 2009
Thursday, 25 June 2009
Disappointment
The colours of disappointment:
She was supposed to be here. Oh, well. This is what disappointment feels like, I guess.
I had so much to say when I started. But, the sheer triviality of the rule that has ruined this weekend for us leaves me without a word. She must be feeling much worse.
The worst part about this is that when you feel bad, and the other person feels bad, and it is nobody's fault, a hug makes everything go away. But, this whole thing is about the hug that was not to be. We find ourselves 1500 miles apart. She did not have six months on her passport, when we asked for four days together.
Oh, well.
She was supposed to be here. Oh, well. This is what disappointment feels like, I guess.
I had so much to say when I started. But, the sheer triviality of the rule that has ruined this weekend for us leaves me without a word. She must be feeling much worse.
The worst part about this is that when you feel bad, and the other person feels bad, and it is nobody's fault, a hug makes everything go away. But, this whole thing is about the hug that was not to be. We find ourselves 1500 miles apart. She did not have six months on her passport, when we asked for four days together.
Oh, well.
Monday, 22 June 2009
Confession
I woke up. I realised I was actually pleased to find out that the Pakistanis had become ICC World T20 champions. Cricinfo glorified it as a comeback from all the mishaps that Pakistan has been suffering as a nation. Initially, I put my reaction down to the equation that if the Pakistanis have won, the South Africans have not won and the Australians have not won. That is a strange concept. As strange as thanking the Pakistani people for being the ones caught in the crapshoot with the Taliban mullahs, such that the Indian people may be spared a little.
Then I went back a little bit. 1992. Then again, I was surprised by my satisfaction at Pakistan's eventual triumph. I was not carried away by Imran's charismatic captaincy. Perhaps, I felt Aloo did not deserve to be on the losing side after those two amazing innings against New Zealand. Perhaps, I was relieved that the English did not get away with dubiously conspiring against Brian McMillan, with the help of the rain-gods. Why did I not feel revulsion when the sworn enemy triumphed where we did not?
Steven Pinker says if you put a group of people in the same room for long enough, they'll eventually find themselves in two opposing groups. Or something to that effect. Is that what happened prior to 1947? Like those occasions when you arrive in your hotel room, your reservation says king-size bed, and you find in front of you, two single beds with the obstinate bedstand right in the lane. Was it a bit like that then? That is surely trivialising the catharsis of Partition, the wars that have been fought and the lives that have been lost.
Sachin Tendulkar and Waqar Younis were career debutantes in the same match. Imagine. Not having had to choose between Lightning and Thunderbolt. Blasphemy, some would say. Wishful thinking, I insist.
Then I went back a little bit. 1992. Then again, I was surprised by my satisfaction at Pakistan's eventual triumph. I was not carried away by Imran's charismatic captaincy. Perhaps, I felt Aloo did not deserve to be on the losing side after those two amazing innings against New Zealand. Perhaps, I was relieved that the English did not get away with dubiously conspiring against Brian McMillan, with the help of the rain-gods. Why did I not feel revulsion when the sworn enemy triumphed where we did not?
Steven Pinker says if you put a group of people in the same room for long enough, they'll eventually find themselves in two opposing groups. Or something to that effect. Is that what happened prior to 1947? Like those occasions when you arrive in your hotel room, your reservation says king-size bed, and you find in front of you, two single beds with the obstinate bedstand right in the lane. Was it a bit like that then? That is surely trivialising the catharsis of Partition, the wars that have been fought and the lives that have been lost.
Sachin Tendulkar and Waqar Younis were career debutantes in the same match. Imagine. Not having had to choose between Lightning and Thunderbolt. Blasphemy, some would say. Wishful thinking, I insist.
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