The Embrace and the Renunciation

Saw the movie Khuda Kay Liye a few days back, and for all those Muslims out there, you absolutely have to watch this movie, for it deals with some very critical issues that young Muslims of today are facing. And for all those non-Muslims out there, you absolutely have to watch this movie just because its a really cool movie! The background score especially will ensure that you traumatise your family members singing it from the temporary invulnerability of your bathrooms early morning. The first Pakistani movie I've seen, and while lacking on many fronts, it is nonetheless a must watch.
The movie sent me on a trip down memory lane. There is a character, an educated well to do ordinary urban muslim who is brainwashed by this charismatic cleric who tells him that singing, dancing, painting, laughing loudly, etc is haraam.
This brought back vivid memories of my days back in the Tableeghi Jamaat, or 'TJs' as they are referred to. A 'reformist' group that dominated the colony where i stay, Millat Nagar in Lokhandwala, the Tableeghi Jamaat follows a rigid interpretation of Islam, that believes the following to be haraam:
Singing
Dancing
Painting
Music
TV
Radio
Earrings/Jewelry for Males
Clothing below the ankles
Photography
3-D Animation
Direction
Acting
Looking at non-related women (na mehram, as they say in Urdu)
Shaving
Women working

The list can go on for quite some time, but I think you get the gist. The Tableeghi's follow a very orthodox and outright regressive interpretation of Islam, and about a year ago, I was very involved in their movement. Life was very turbulent back then, and I began mingling with them to see what they were all about, as I seemed to get some measure of peace for my very troubled soul from the prayers and the talks on Islam. Initially it was good, and the Tableeghis have this system wherein they spend a specific amount of time in a mosque (3 days, 40 or four months; take your pick) and spend their time living it up the Islamic way, praying and studying the Koran. Also, they have certain pre-established contacts with whom they go about preaching to the nearby Muslims and requesting them to come and pray.
It's a lot of fun really, as they take you to some cool places, you prepare your own food, and get to meet a lot of interesting people. Also, for the youth its better because it can be a lot of fun. My very first Jamaat, we were in a mosque that was bordered by a graveyard and a madrassa, and had an air conditioned prayer hall and a decent collection of literature.
However, over time I began to see just how suffocating and downright ridiculous their beliefs were. One of them actually had the nerve to tell me to give up journalism as it involved photography! There were no shortage of people using all kinds of methods to get me to change: remove my earrings, grow a beard, wear kurta-pyjama only, and so on.
Their methods too were ingenious. Their average target would be the loitering Muslim teenager, whom they would persuade/cajole/entice into coming, and once in their grasp would begin the sermons on hell fire and brimstone, and the tortures that would await those who dared transgress the Sacred Word of Allah, who dared even question (YOU DARE?!) the authority of the Last and Absolutely True Word sent down through his Prophet (SAW). Thus, the poor youth would slowly become increasingly brainwashed and would be thoroughly intimidated, their constant fear of being roasted on a fire 70000"C hot, being bitten by giant venomous snakes, having molten glass poured into their ears, having their faces ripped off and other unpleasant punishments being constant reminders of them to toe the line and grow beards and break their TV sets and so on.
Thus, frustrated beyond belief at Islam, the Muslim Community and the Tableeghi's, I left the Tableeghi Jamaat for ever.
Now, I know that Islam and the Community as a whole is not at fault; the Tableeghis are masters of manteeq, or logic, and twist to suit their own purposes and bring to them the ultimate thing that all beings desire: power.
If need be, Islam can be portrayed as a great religion, which it is, and even though my views on Islam are not conventional, it can still be handled with a lot more sense than prevails, and for this reason I recommend Khuda Kay Liye as it deals with some of these issues.

Network 18

Its 6:00 in the morning, and this makes it a complete 24 hours since I have last slept. What did I do the whole night? Spent it shooting at network 18! Above is a little trailer as to the fruits of my efforts. The final video will be edited on Croma and will be put up on buzz18.com. Links will be provided, PLEASE check it out when its done, I'd really appreciate it.

Apart from that, man was that office fabulous or what! Taking deep pockets to a whole new level, the office was virtually a techno-maniac's paradise. Computers abounded everywhere, in the most unexpected of places, and they had all the latest gaming equipment, even the Nintendo Wii. Oh, did I burn when I came to know that they had to gamers there who just had to game all day and review them and they actually got paid good money for it!
Ah, capitalism can be very nice at times.
What started out as a day that I dreaded and detested turned out to be a night to remember. I don't think i'll forget that office with its warm employees (we had a pizza for dinner), excellent work atmosphere and immensely enjoyable work schedule anytime soon.

Metanoias

Just back from my whirlwind tour of Nanded - Mangalore - Goa and feeling absolutely great to be back in Mumbai, though knowing myself, i'll be stifled with the place pretty soon and be clamoring to travel again. What can i say - cities bore me.
Without going into details of the trip, let me just say that it was an amazing experience, in fact all my trips seems to keep getting better and better! Did a whole lot of crazy and wacky things (planning to write a little book about it) but basically came back enriched with many, many insights.

Metanoia - a word of greek origin that is little used in today's time. It means a shift of mind. And this trip did really give me a few shifts of mind, beginning with totally changing my perspective about India as a whole. I can't help it, i love this damn country a little too much for my own good, and my urban upbringing had so far blinded me to the truths of just how different, just how removed and far from our popular perception is the world of rural and small-town India. Believe me, staying in cities, especially a one as Mayatic as Mumbai, one can very easily fall into the illusion that YES, India is developing, YES, Starbucks and Gas and Tommy are about a stone's throw from my house, YES, my son listens to the latest gangster rap, wears the latest (and most absurdly expensive) branded clothes, speaks the best english amongst his peers and his hence popular, YES, things such as poverty and unemployment have always been there in human society, but so what? those damn newsmen love to crib, and finally, YES, India has come a long way, and it won't be too long before we're granted Superpower status along with a seat in the U.N veto council. Big Six, huh?
Big NO.

Thanks to the government for putting up such a good show are obligatory; that's their job after all, to show that all is well. Whom i'd really like to hand it to for putting up such a fantastic glamour laden depiction of India is the media. Being a media student myself i know full well just how absolutely rotten this industry is. Oh yes, politically correct goes out the window mates, this whole industry is ABSOLUTELY ROTTEN. Cheaper than Kamatipura whores, mediamen and women are ready to sell their souls to increase their sales, and believe me, what they don't want is a thinking, criticizing audience, what they want is someone who'll either be star struck by the Karan Johar style movies that bollywood is reknown for, or be equally brain dead with K - serials. What the media (under the sagacious nod of Big Grandpa Government) wants is middle aged men to pore over the pictures of skimpily clad women in Mid Day, to read about leaking pipes and arrested porn actress in Mumbai mirror and to read about the latest cricketing headlines on the front pages of TOI. What they definitely don't want is people reading newspapers like The Indian Express (I'm an absolute loyalist of this paper - you want news, proper, hard core news, not the crap we get, read this paper. It'll open your eyes, and open your mind a little too) and asking why? where does our hard earned money go? surely not into THIS india!

Well, my recent forays into the the Three Cities left me with a great deal to think about. It served as a wake up call to the realities that Indian farmers face, that the Indian rural folk face, at the myriad of social and economic problems that we have left to deal with, at the many, many, many things that are so terribly wrong with this country. But make no doubt, of all the sins we can commit, of all the wrongs that we are apt to do, the one that we can never, ever allow ourselves is the sin of ignorance. Understand that India is NOT shining; the urban cities are, and that too not very brightly. Understand that we are a long way off from being a superpower; we lack the basic foundations to stand upon. Understand that it is about time to stop blaming and start doing; change begins with you, and you can bring change wherever you are, but only if you choose to do so.

India, India, India. Why do I love you so?

Jai Hind!

The other night I had a strange dream.

I dreamt that I was travelling in the first class compartment of one of Mumbai's famous local trains, and while traveling, a most strange incident took place. I was near the coach exit, where all the standees are, and one of the commuters, a normal looking man - about 40ish, dressed in crisp formals and holding a copy of The Economic Times - sneezed. When he sneezed, his eyes fell out. He looked up, where his eyes formally held attention there were now two pitch dark sockets. The man started laughing, hysterically, laughing so loudly that his laughter rang throughout the train, cutting effortlessly through the chatter and the ambient noise, going on and on until there was an unnatural hush. I was coming to grips with what was happening when from right behind me, a second man broke into hysterics, jerking his shoulders in all directions as if he were having a fit. He wore dark sunglasses, and took them off with a flourish, to show another pair of empty, staring eye sockets. All around, faces began turning to show people without eyes, people with stares that seemed to come from nowhere, the laughter catching on till the whole compartment shook with laughter; men, women, even a child shrieking with glee, his empty eye sockets staring skywards. I had to look away from the madness, and looked out the sides and saw the train lit up by an amber glow, the absence of any surroundings - the train was going through a void!
That's when this inexplicable feeling hit me that I was travelling on a train that was destined to be traveling forever.. And that's when I mercifully woke up.

Prejudice

The above person is me.
Me, dressed as a - you guessed it - a terrorist. The location is late night at Girgaon. In my right hand I hold a gun, and in my left hand I hold a sword. The whole thing was a set up for my upcoming photography project. The sword which I hold in my left hand is the centre of all my attention, and the cause of the upcoming adventure.
The day was 6th February 2008, one day before photography submission, and the setting was entirely different. I was at my friend Armin Jamula's place, and with me were Suyash Barve, her boyfriend, and Raoul Lobo, my Catholic partner in crime, who was there to assist me with my photographs, just as I was there to assist him in his. Now we had just finished shooting a rather interesting shot which had Raoul dressed solely in leaves, and we had to move on to the next one. The shot was based on the concept of the sword of Damocles, and I happened to have a real sword right there, at Armin's house. The concept was supposed to be a sword dangling by a string over a person's head, with the person's expression one of fury. I wanted a woody location, one that would signify contemplation and tapasya.
I was dressed in a kurta from the previous shot, and Raoul was in civilian clothes, so we just hopped out of Armin's house to look for a garden or some such location, where we could shoot peacefully. I had the sword in my hand wrapped in pink ribbon for the string, and in my other hand was the Indian flag, a prop for a different photograph. I tried not to think of how I must be looking, dressed in a kurta pyjama and a sword, and just stepped out of Armin's house and was about to go looking for a suitable shot with Raoul in tow.
About ten seconds later, we saw a police van stationed. One of the policemen stopped us and asked us what we were doing. I told him that we were Wilson students out for a photography shoot, we had a camera to prove it. The policemen were adamant, however, that we accompany them to the police station, where they would 'quickly verify the origin of the sword' and let us free. I had left my cell phone at home, and as Raoul wasn't allowed to make calls.
Thus we went, on toward the Nagpada police station in a police van, and the cops kept asking questions about where we were from, what college we were in, why we were in possession of a real sword, and so on. We got off at the police station, and were taken straight to the detention area. There the torture began.
About five straight of non stop questioning, abuses, hate, mental anguish began. Their questions and pokes were primarily directed at me, and I could understand what kind of target I presented to these fat, frustrated policemen - A muslim teenager with a sword. They didn't care about the fact that I was well educated, that I came from a good family, that I studied in one of Bombay's best colleges, that I had all the evidence to show that I was out doing nothing more than a photography project, that I had people high up who could vouch for my authenticity - no, all they cared about was that my name was Abdul and that I was a Muslim who lived in Millat Nagar.
"All you Muslims are like this! That area you live in is full of killers! Mother fucker! Have you no sense!" were just some of the flowery sentences that I was showered with. They hardly spoke to Raoul, asking him just the necessary questions.
My saviour was Armin Jamula's mom, an incredible lady to whom I shall be thankful forever. Suyash and Armin were there too, and without their support I shudder to think of my condition. They called the coordinator of my college to confirm that I was doing a project, and the whole drama finally ended when at last, having pored over the constitution with a microscope, they were indeed satisfied that I had broken no law and had spared them the satisfaction of watching of laying their hands on one more Muslim.
There are so many events that happened in those five hours in the police station.. This poor bastard of a mobile thief, his one eye swollen shut, his lips bleeding and his heels probably broken getting thrashed before our very eyes, the other thief brought in and handcuffed to the bars of the lock up, the supercop ACP, who seemed to be a man of iron, slim, tough, and intimidating, so different from the fat, ugly, balding cops we were surrounded with.
I was thinking of the image me and Raoul gave to the cops - a Muslim with a sword with a possible Bhaiyya in tow - refer to mine and Raoul's picture at the bottom of this to know why he would look as a Bhaiyya! And the best part was, all this happened during the MNS tension, when riots were happening left, right and centre in that area.
The aftermath of the whole incident was that the sword was kept in police custody, me and Raoul's bond went through the trial of fire, and I realized who my true friends were, who would be the ones to really stand by me. And suprisingly enough, I still respect and admire cops as much as I always did, it's just that now, for the first time, I understand why people say that the law is blind.

Governance

"Vi Veri Veniversum Vivus Vici"
By the power of truth, I, while living, have conquered the Universe.

The Five Vs spoken by Dr.Faust, the German alchemist of legend to the demon Mephistopheles, when he agreed to trade his soul in exchange for knowledge, later inspiring Alan Moore to create his epic graphic novel V for Vendetta, which is about totalitarian Britain, and freedom as a perspective.

The novel is also heavily anarchist. Now here is a great misunderstanding. Most of us think anarchy means without order; anarchy means without leaders. Monarchy = Anarchy.
Which brings me to my main point about governance.
If you are a teenager, if you fall into that category who are regarded as the 'youth and future' of the nation, then think carefully about what I have to say.
The majority of the youth apes the west, thinks their culture and heritage are something that should be ashamed of, think that speaking in their mother tongues or vernacular languages are something which uncivilised people do, and so on. We sit and blame the government for almost everything around us, think politicians are a bunch of corrupt, rotting old men, and think that there will never be change.
And at this rate, there never will be a change.
Think about all your friends, all the people who are in the age group of 16 - 24, and think of what your future jobs will be.
Then, think about how many of them fall into the following three categories:
1. Agriculture
2. Industry
3. Administration
I'm taking the liberty to assume that it really won't be a stellar majority, which leads to the next question.
From which angle is India Shining?
India today is like the moon, reflecting the Sun's light and deluding itself into believing that the light is its own. Most of our money comes from MNCs and global corporates, and most of our best labour goes into them as well. India right now may be doing very well indeed, but at best it is being carried along on supplied crutches, and when the crutches are removed, the fall might be one that will take a very long to recover from.
The above three industries are the backbone of any nation's development, and if the youth, if the brightest and freshest and most idealistic minds opt to shift away from them, opt to see no future in them, then in which direction is the country headed?
The government needs to seriously rethink its policies, needs to seriously revamp its syllabus and textbooks, and needs to seriously think about removing the Iron Curtain it has currently put up that shuns most of its best potential.
What India today needs are students pouring out of universities and colleges and schools not only with all the usual jobs in mind, but also needs a sizable portion to think about going into the above mentioned industries.
The government recently gave the go-ahead to a medical bill that stated that all doctors should spend a particular time period working in rural India, and I feel that this sort of rule should be extended to as many industries as feasible, because sitting in your air conditioned home in Bandra, sipping on cafe latte and watching Seinfeld, it'll be too easy to fall into the illusion of India Shining.

Al-Biruni

I seem to be reading a lot of M.J Akbar lately. The other day I was going through his book The Shade of Swords: Jihad and the Conflict between Islam and Christianity, when I read about this figure known as Abu Rayhan Mohammed Ibn Ahmed Al-Biruni, possibly the greatest of Islams juggernauts and undoubtedly one of the foremost intellectuals of the era. Scholar, historian, physician, mathematician, anthropologist, astronomer, the list is enough to boggle the mind. I found myself thinking, How the hell can he cram all that into one lifetime?! Al
Biruni was also possibly the worlds first anthropologist, writing detailed comparative notes on the differences between the cultures he encountered in his vast travels. He was the one who wrote about the Aryan - Indic civilisation and the mysteries of Brahmanism. His achievements are quite frankly way too many to list on this page.
These were the men who comprised the Golden Age of Islam.
Who represent the face of Islam today?
Lets see..
Osama Bin Laden. Ayman Al-Zawhiri. Pervez Musharraf. Malcolm X. The Ayatollah Khomeini.
An interesting mix, but all of them have severe negative shades, and almost all of them are famous, or shall I say infamous for their authoritarian dispositions and violent streaks. Another thing that unites them is that almost all the nations they belong to are now lying in shambles. When was the last time anyone heard of a successful Muslim scientist, or shall we say athelete, or astronomer, or even businessman for that matter? The Arabs are reknowned worldwide for their lack of functioning neurons, and there are many jokes about how their money is siphoned from them faster than the petrol from their oil reserves, either by 'western powers' such as the Americans and the Europeans, or the Jews, who are present in most levels of hierarchy that matters. The golden Age of Islam is definitely going through a twilight zone, only here the twilight may either be the representative of dawn or dusk, it is hard to say. My personal belief would be that after almost a 1500 years of success and prosperity, the Islamic empire is now headed toward the long night.
Moving on to the Indian political scenario, the Indian Muslim has long been facing what can truly be called an identity crisis. It has been brought to our country by races and cultures that are not our own, and while those other nations have now become synonymous with Islam, India has still managed to retain its 'unity in diversity slogan', a fact which has no doubt anguished many orthodox Muslims, who for some very absurd reason believe that culture and religion cannot coexist, and that if your religion is Islam then your culture should be Arabic. Notice the next 'orthodox' looking Muslim you see, and note his image:
A thick beard, a white kurta-pyjama, a white knitted cotton cap and chappals.
Firstly, the beard. It has been a big source of debate in Indian circles whether the beard is necessary or not for the Muslim, and the truth is this: The beard is absolutely unrequired, and wearing it is only out of respect for the Prophet Muhammad (SAW). The Kurta Pyjama are Afghan imports brought through to us by the Mughals, and we now associate them with Islamic wear when actually the arab dress is quite different. The cap again is another bone of contention, and I really dont see the point of wearing that ridiculous cap. It doesnt have the elegance of a fez or the masculinity of the turban, and just looks downright silly, and yet is insisted upon during prayer when it is perfectly allowed to pray without any headgear.
Which brings me to my main point: Why does religion have to be synonymous with culture?
Observing the fundamentals of the Islamic faith is something that can be done in any culture and cause minimal disturbance to daily lifestyle. The fundamentals of the Islamic faith being: Belief in God and his Final Prophet Muhammad (SAW); the five daily prayers; donation of 2.5% of annual income to charity; fasting during Ramzan and the pilgrimage to Mecca and Medina.
Observance of these is not an issue, because there are no cultural constraints or restrictions such as language, dressing, food habits, etc, which might otherwise shape the culture. And yet, I have noticed the obsession to emulate Arab culture.
I have been a member of the Tableeghi Jamaat (TJ) and one of the advantages is that you get to interact with Muslims from all over the world. I have met Muslims from Africa, Sudan, Palestine, Arabia, even Thailand and France. And yet, no matter where they come from, they are dressed in long arabian robes, try and speak Arabic in ridiculous accents, and have long heavy beards.
Long ago, my father planted a thought in my head. He said, "If this community could understand what they say five times a day, they would be truly enlightened."
He was referring to the five daily prayers, which 90% of Indian muslims do not comprehend simply because they are in a foreign language. All this prologue finally brings me to my main point; Why can't we Muslims say our five daily prayers and read the Noble Qur'an, which has indeed been given to all mankind, in a language which is comprehensible? Take a look at the Christians. Chrisitians in South India say their prayers in Malayalam, in the North they say it in Hindi, etc. Even English, the language most widely associated with the Bible is not the original tongue of the Bible, it is Hebrew. So if the Bible has now been translated in a language of people's benefit, why can't the same be done to the Qur'an. The implications could be staggering.