Category Archives: India

The Story of Sri Rama – II

Continued from here

Just when he’s looking forward to heading back home and take his place as the king of Ayodhya, the world around him begins to crumble.

On a beautiful day, his beloved wife asks him to chase a pipe dream, forcing him to go after a golden deer. Rama knows it’s an aberration. He’s living in that jungle for several years and knows the woods, the kind of surrounding wildlife. He knows this is probably some kind of trickery. He knows this may lead to something bad. In the world of probabilities, he possibly played all the scenarios in his head. And every one of them had a disastrous outcome.

Yet, he goes after it. Because his primary dharma as a husband was to make the wife happy. He makes his brother responsible for the sister-in-law, and goes after the deer, probably knowing well that something bad may yet befall them.

Immediately after Sita gets abducted, he had two choices: berate his brother for shirking his primary responsibility, or sympathize with him for the obvious repentance. He chose the latter, and probably said something like, “Well, this is a shitty situation for the both of us. Let’s fix it”, and set out to find his wife.

As he progressed searching for her, he had to make some tactical decisions. The Vali vs Sugreeva story is a lesson. A leader must maximize her/his chances for success, and any decision they take towards that is a good decision. In the grand scheme of things, this man set out to right a wrong. We can argue all we want about animal rights and the ethics of overthrowing Vali. But in the end, Rama extracted what he wanted from the Vanara Sena, their unflinching loyalty. And that was possible by backing Sugreeva against Vali.

Even at the tip of the subcontinent, waiting to launch the final attack on the Lankan kingdom, he made another strategic pact. He needed to find a chink in the enemy’s armor. And he found Vibheeshana. As a military general, he made the biggest catch yet – the defection of one of the enemy’s family members. As they say, all is fair in love and war. In this war, Vibheeshana’s knowledge of the city, Ravana’s army, and some military secrets eventually proved vital to Rama’s success.

The one aspect I struggled with, in all my grown life, was the entire episode of Sita having to prove her chastity, after the defeat and eventual death of Ravana. Maybe because as humans we seek logic and explanation for everything. For all we know, he probably simply asked a very ‘human’ question, “Did you sleep with him?”, to which she probably answered, “Are you kidding me? I’m like fire. He didn’t even touch me”. It’s possible that over the years the story snowballed into ‘proof of chastity’. I don’t know. I don’t have a good explanation. In today’s world, it’s a blotch on the story.

While all this was happening, he was keeping time. He remembered that his own brother Bharata vowed to kill himself if he didn’t return on time. So he used technology to catch a redeye back to Ayodhya. BTW whatever happened to that Pushpaka Vimana?

And finally, his sending away of Sita when she was pregnant. In my opinion that was the other blotch, until I saw a video last week of Sadguru, clarifying the situation.  Now, we still don’t know if he sent her away, or she left him (see my post here). But, I am now led to believe that if he indeed sent her away, there was probably a reason behind it, however flawed it may seem to us, living in the modern world.

As a ruler, a king, he had to ensure his people had full confidence in him and his abilities: absolute confidence and unrelenting devotion. In order for that to happen, he needed to make personal sacrifices. This was his supreme, letting his wife go. I didn’t truly buy it. But again, who knows what the norms were ten thousand years ago.

This is the story of Sri Rama, and why even today a billion people worship him. The story of confidence, of obedience, of sacrifice, of valor, of strategy, and of what was supposed to be a perfect man.

The Story of Sri Rama – I

Recently, we had the Sri Rama Navami festival at our local temple. This is a special day for Hindus, as it is the birthday of Sri Rama. It is an important day, festivities cut across the length and breadth of India.

Rama was a very late child of Dasaratha, who had 3 wives. None of them bore him a child. After seeking several remedies, they came upon a procedure that he shared with his two favorite wives Kausalya (who gave birth to Rama) and Kaikeyi (Bharata). Why he didn’t share it with Sumitra is besides the point. Maybe he didn’t know how to divide by 3, who knows.

Polygamy was accepted in those days, and consorts had a good relationship amongst themselves. Bearing a child was (still is) deemed a very rewarding and fulfilling experience for a woman. To that effect, the two wives shared the procedure with Sumitra, the third wife, who ends up bearing twin boys Lakshmana and Shatrughna because of that.

It is worthy to note that almost 10,000 years ago (Rama was supposed to have been born circa 7300 BCE), someone knew of a procedure by which childless parents could bear children, AND, they could choose the gender; male in this case as Dasaratha needed a crown prince. 

Coming back to Rama, why do we celebrate his life? This man, on the face of it, was the picture boy for hardships. From the time Vishwamitra asks Dasaratha to have his first born accompany him on a deadly quest, until his own estranged sons frustrate his forces in a battle, his life was filled with hardships and sadness. Yet, that is precisely what makes him God.

When he was barely 16, an unknown sage waltzes in, asks his dad to send Rama on a quest that could easily have killed him. Yet, he obliges, as much for paternal reverence as it was for the explorer and warrior in him. He uses all his skill and power to defeat the demons and learn archery and war strategy from Vishwamitra. He is unfazed by the challenges thrust upon him and makes the best of the situation. That’s leadership.

When he was around 24 years old, he sees a beautiful maiden and does what most men do, fall hopelessly in love at first sight. He then proceeds to use his skill and willpower to win her (and her father) over, by accepting, and then defeating the challenge her father puts forth. That’s determination.

Hours before coronation, he is told that he has to 1) abandon the throne and 2) go away for 14 years. Doesn’t put up a fight. Doesn’t complain. Does as he’s told. It takes a lot of courage to dramatically alter the course of one’s life. This man backed his ability, and decided to go into the woods by himself. And then he learns his wife and brother will accompany him, which now makes him responsible for them. He doesn’t flinch, and sets out to fulfill his father’s promise. That’s composure.

Continued here

The Roller Coaster Experience

I am not a big roller coaster person. I can get on some of those benign ones (OK you can call them kiddie coasters) but if it’s anything like the Hulk ride at Universal I stay away. I just don’t feel I need to get my heart rate up that high. I am a runner. My heart rate’s just fine thank you very much! But I do enjoy the ones I ride. I think it’s worth the thrill.

A trip to India gets you a similar experience. Almost everything about this country is unpredictable: the people, the traffic, the weather (more about that later), the punctuality (ahem!). The whole package is one wild ride.

It starts at the airport. You stand behind the line at immigration, eagerly awaiting to get past the dim ambience and the depressing officer, get your luggage, get in that ride and see your family members. You are the next person to be called. And suddenly, much like the roller coaster’s hard-right turn, a large “connected” family is escorted to the officer by an airport employee. Your blood pressure rises, but everybody else is enjoying so why bother.

Having been used to the very loose concept of timeliness in India, you think when someone says they’ll meet you at 8:30 he really means 10am. So imagine your surprise when at 8:20 he calls you and says, “Sir I am outside the gate”. Just like when you start to think “oh how many more curves and drops” on a coaster but it slowly arches around the corner for you to see the station, much to your relief and leaving you with the thought, “this ain’t so bad, we can do this”

When you’re driving on the highway at 80-100 kmph and you see a truck perpedicular to the road, poised to cross, the driver looking left and right, as if to wait until the high speeders pass. But you know deep inside that his mind and his foot are on different continents, because his truck is moving barrelling forward without a care in the world. If you didn’t know any better, you would crash into him head on at 60-80kmph. Much like on a roller coaster where you can see a dead end or broken tracks and we’re hurtling towards it, only to stop within inches.

Your friends want to hang out and down a few cold ones (with temps in low 40s, you won’t mind a lot of those ‘few’). You end up at this scruffy looking building, thinking “Huh! This is modern India?”. But when you enter the restaurant it’s so cool inside it’ll put some of the best bars in Manhattan to shame. And the food hits it out of the park. Similar to the rickety coaster you fear getting on, but leave thrilled enough to want to go back.

Finally, the people. You come across these saintly people you would want to worship. And then you find these  douchebags who are only alive because it’s illegal to kill them. No really, I want an open discussion on that law. It’s like on the coaster, one minute you’re climbing up the rails, viewing a different perspective of the world, and plummeting down the next, blood rushing to your head.

One thing’s for sure. There’s never a dull moment in this country.

The Magnum Opus

I finally watched Bahubali – The Conclusion (BB-2) this weekend, a little more than two weeks after it hit the screens worldwide.

My first reaction on exiting the theater – wow!

But this is not a post about the technical aspects of the movie, or how a regional film family pulled off the greatest commercial hit in the history of Indian cinema. Just do a google search on Bahubali and you’ll get reams and reams of content on that.

This is purely my reaction to, and opinion on the finished product.

To be honest, I was suspect about this movie. Not its success – the hype-meisters had taken care of it long before its release. But in general I am a bit circumspect about Indian period movies – real or fiction. I am yet to watch one that blows my mind. And yes, that includes BB-2. They usually tend to tip the balance: either grossly underwhelming or extremely over the top. Great visuals are crippled by a weak story. Great stories are corrupted by visuals unabashedly ripped-off from Hollywood or downright atrocious stunts and action sequences: we’re obsessed with one man shows than collaborative efforts. And yes, BB-2 suffers from this malaise as well.

There’s also a problem with the ‘critical’ viewer in India (including yours truly). We watch Hollywood movies quite extensively. Our bar is set higher, hence. Inevitable comparisons follow. It is easily forgotten that Hollywood has the benefit of decades of advanced CGI technology and a highly mature industry. Its audience is different too, more discerning and a lot more educated. So I’ve come to the conclusion that I shouldn’t even be comparing BB-2 with any Hollywood movie. It would be wrong on my part.

I looked at it purely from a layman Indian’s perspective. Someone that is not fortunate enough, or doesn’t have access to these foreign blockbusters. To such people, this movie is mind-blowing.

The average Indian movie-goer absolutely loves superhero actions; I suspect there are deeper (and worrying) psychological connotations behind this but that’s for another day. BB-2 more than gratifies them in this regard. The visuals are out of the world. Undoubtedly the best I’ve seen among Indian movies.

The story is tight as well – standard Indian masala but woven very well. All the nava-rasas are present from love to sex to valor to revenge. The actors acted out of their skin: the fierce but vulnerable Ramya Krishna, evil-personified Rana, the loyal Satyaraj, the defiant Anushka and of course the main protagonist: Prabhas. Kudos to all of them.

Where I really found a problem in this movie is the pace. It may not be the maker’s fault but BB-2 fails in this regard. Let’s break the story down into 2 parts: the flashback and the avenging. The flashback takes up almost 80-85% of the movie, leaving very little time for the son to avenge his father. The last 30 minutes of the movie goes at such a frenetic pace that it seems rushed, like a mad sprint to the finish-line in a marathon, if you pardon my running analogy.

I distinctly remember looking at my watch a couple of times, well into the second half and thinking “We’ve still not killed Amarendra Bahubali. When are we getting the retribution?”. I believe the director got so engrossed in trying to exalt the father, and thus generate the sympathy for his death, that he overlooked the fact that there’s a son out there waiting to kill the conspirators.

I hear Mr. Rajamouli is considering making the Mahabharata into a movie. I look forward to it. To me, as to many Indians, the Mahabharata is the greatest story ever written (sorry Tolkien, Lucas and Rowling). In order to bring that to life, his pacing needs to be spot on.

Back to BB-2, to me the best and worst parts of the movie were:

Best: The coronation setting and sequence. Such exquisite execution

Worst: The angry bird parallel at the end with soldiers bundled up and catapulted into the fortress from palm trees. Seriously! WTF?


Before I start – if you’re are offended by anything said against India or Indians then read no further. Exit now!

Over the past few months several anti-immigrant incidents have been reported across the country. Some of them have been against Indians. An Indian software engineer was shot and killed and his friend injured in a bar in Kansas City. Others have been asked to “go back to your country”. Yet others have had feces flung at their homes – according to reports. A video emerged from somewhere in Ohio of someone recording a bunch of Indians hanging out in a Park.

This is not about why those incidents “reveal the ugly underbelly or racist America”. No. This is about the why. Why are Indians seen as aliens and outsiders? We are one of the best (if not the best) immigrant ethnic group any country can get. Most – if not all – of us go through often lengthy immigration process to become LEGAL and VALID residents or citizens of this country. We’re sincere. We pay our fair share of taxes. We – again most of us – are law abiding (law fearing) people. So – why?

Assimilation – or the lack of it.


to bring into conformity with the customs, attitudes, etc., of a group,nation, or the like; adapt or adjust:

That’s the reasonable expectation – that an immigrant group conform to the local customs and practices.

Mind you – this is not about following rules or not breaking the law. This is about culture and customs.

There are several things we do as Indians that are so “Indian” that even the most open minded born-and-raised American can be pissed off.

Let’s start with the phrase “Personal Space”. Different cultures have different definitions of personal space. The more crowded the country – the more cozier people get in public spaces. Picture the friendly neighborhood grocery store. You need tomatoes. There is one person in front of you but there’s enough room for two . Now, the American way of doing it is to wait until the person finishes. But you, you don’t wait. You pull up next to the person, getting a bit too close to them (remember 18 inches or less is ‘close’ in the western world). You start picking these tomatoes. Several times your hand can be within an inch from the other person’s. In most western countries that’s defined as an act of war.

It gets worse when you’re in an Indian grocery store – mostly at the Tindora box. When two Indians (who’re already physically too close for comfort) are picking these veggies a third hand emerges from within the 2 inch gap. The hand invasion continues as you and the other person part a move away a couple of inches. The shoulder and eventually the owner of that hand then makes himself (or herself) a happy sandwich and continues gathering, blissfully unaware.

Scene 2: At the restaurant. The waitress is taking your order. The kids want coke. You want them to stick to water and stay healthy – knowing fully well that once they’re out of home they’ll be binging on coke and chips. Instead of saying in plain english “We talked about this at home kids, no cola. Period!”, you start off your Bhagavad Gita discourse in your native language. When the kids try to speak in english you reprimand them. You indicate that you don’t want to discuss this in front of the waitress. Your body language betrays your mention of her. She doesn’t know what you’re saying. All she can tell is that she’s being discussed. Strike 2

Scene 3: The Office. Oh boy where do I start. I know I’m going to take a lot of heat for this but I’ll say it anyways. If there’s one place that has contributed to the alienation of Indians in the US, it’s the IT workplace.

It’s a scene that is probably played out every single day in the thousands of cubed offices across the country: the polarization of Indians vs the rest. We tend to form and move around in groups, talking about obscure politics happening 8500 miles away, cricket matches and their heroes, Bollywood and its heroes (and heroines). Yet we seem to be totally oblivious to what’s happening around us. When someone says “out of the left field” we have blank faces. An acquaintance referred to the 2017 Super Bowl as “that popular football match”. We have that smug smile when an American talks about his son’s “basketball game last night” – somehow conveying that he’s wasting his time while his own son is competing in Math Counts.

We suffer from a severe lack of contextual awareness. It’s compounded by the fact that we refuse to learn. We don’t have to be an expert on American History. But some cursory knowledge of the Cuban missile crisis or the Watergate scandal would do quite well. When we hear Ford Bronco and OJ Simpson in the same sentence we draw blank faces. Why? Even talk of Kyrie’s clutch 3-pointer will render us absolutely clueless. And that happened in 2016.

I guess what I’m saying is that one doesn’t need to transform oneself to assimilate into this culture. But an earnest effort will go a long way in identifying Indians as an acceptable ethnic group as opposed to an alien one. None of the above mentioned scenarios are illegal or unethical. But they are irritants which usually bubble up and cause social issues.

Even in that video of the Park in Ohio, while the person was shooting the video you can see kids running around, crossing his path and cutting in front of him. What you don’t hear or see is a parent asking them to watch for people. If I were in his position I’d be thinking “what the heck – not even the minimum decency towards other people?”

There is a refusal to assimilate – and THAT is what alienates us.

“We Are Declaring Him” – Part VI

…Read these first:

“P Ram Mohan Rao?” he said.

I stood up.

“Any other attendants here?”


He beckoned me to follow him. I packed my laptop in and started after him. He didn’t say a thing. I didn’t ask.

As I walked towards dad’s bed, a man in a dark shirt and trousers and wearing flip flops look at me and walk away, past me. I thought he was another attendant. I saw two nurses fiddling with the pipes and cables connected to dad. I didn’t understand what was going on.

“What is happening sister?”

One of the nurses looked up and signaled me to ask the person that just walked past me.

“Is he the duty doctor?”


I walked behind him and said “Excuse me doctor. What is going on?”

The 4 words will ring in my ears for the rest of my life.

“We are declaring him”

It took me a couple of seconds to register.

My father has died.

I turned back towards the bed. The nurses had left.

I walked to his side. His eyelids were partly open. His mouth was open. His head was tilted back. It could’ve been any other time, any other day. He was sleeping. Any time now he could snore. I touched his hands and feet. I stood there – emotional and emotionless at the same time.

It was over.

“We Are Declaring Him” – Part V

… Read these first:

I walked out to be met by mummy and my cousin’s wife Prashanti. I avoided eye contact with mom. Avoided any conversation. She wanted to go into the ICU. Prashanti volunteered to take her inside. The security guard protested saying two people cannot go at the same time. But Prashanti somehow managed to convince him and they both went in.

Outside, there was chaos. Family members of other patients all wanting to go in, two security guards at two separate doors trying to maintain order. There was a family that had about 25 people wanting to go in and see the patient. Ridiculous as it may seem, at the time I only felt sympathy for the family. For the hospital it’s a logistical and medical nightmare. Any one of the 25 could carry an infection that can affect any of the patients. But this is India. There will be crowds every where.

Things seemed to settle down around 9pm. Mummy was coerced into going to her brother’s house nearby. Prashanti and my aunt convinced her she needed some rest and home food. She left around 9:15. Kiran bava had left around 7:30 saying he’ll be back around 11. Chacha and Shravya were still lingering around. Around 10:15 I told them to go home, get some dinner. The discussion hinged on who will stay the night. I volunteered myself and Kiran bava. After some deliberations, they left in an auto rickshaw.

The waiting area was quiet. Only a handful of attendants remained. Some spread out their bedsheets and started lying down. Others just wandered around talking on their cell phones. I opened my backpack, pulled out the laptop, attached the USB wi-fi stick in and started reading my email. It was quite dark in the lounge area.

It was 10:30pm. I know because I just looked at the top right corner of my MacBook Pro.

I saw the security guard walk slowly into the waiting area, his eyes probing for someone. I looked up and met his gaze.

To be continued…

“We Are Declaring Him” – Part IV

… Read these first:

I entered the ICU.

The nurse ushered me into the duty doctor room. It had a small desk table, a desk chair and a 2 person sofa for attendants like me. The doctor wasn’t available immediately so I made myself comfortable on the sofa.

A few minutes later he walked in. A roundly built man in his late 40s, the duty doctor (for the life of me I can’t recall his name) turned out to be a very courteous and well spoken man. This was contrary to popular notion that these low paid doctors are rude and don’t really care for anyone.

“I have to tell you the situation is not good”

My heart sank. I was hoping against hope that he told me something else.

“His lungs are badly affected. There is 21% Oxygen in the air we breathe. A normal person’s Oxygen saturation is 100%. In your father’s case he’s on 100% Oxygen through the tube, but his saturation is only 78%. It means his lungs are not able to keep up”

“Additionally he has internal bleeding. His kidneys are failing. We have to put him on ventilator”

Then he discussed the legal disclosures and consent forms about putting dad on the ventilator.

I finally mustered enough courage to ask him “how long does he have doctor?”

That was when he made the chilling statement, “To be very frank with you, he won’t make it through the night

I managed to nod and ask him if I could see him. I slowly and deliberately walked towards his bed.

He was strapped in, unconscious. He had tubes going in and out of his mouth and nose. There were monitors all around beeping. It was a surreal situation. Here was my father – the healthiest 74 year old I had known, on his last breaths, that too assisted. I touched his left hand and stood there staring at him for a few moments with a blank mind.

I walked slowly back towards the waiting area, not knowing what to answer if my mother asks, “what did the doctor say?”

How should I face her? What should I tell her? Can time stop at 6:45pm? It sure seemed like it to me.

To be continued…

“We Are Declaring Him” – Part III

… Read these first:

As the ambulance started to make its way through the crowded and congested streets of old Hyderabad (yes RTC X Roads is now old Hyderabad) the NRI in me surfaced and began to think the worst. How is an ambulance going to wade through this notoriously indisciplined and indifferent traffic?

To my surprise I saw a different side of Hyderabad that day. Vehicles stopping or moving away at the siren. Even RTC buses were making way, or stopping. Others asking non-conformists to move away. This is what runs this planet – basic human nature to care for another being. A thousand thoughts raced through my mind. How am I going to repay all these people? Then I realized – No. I just have to pay forward, you cannot pay back.

We reached the hospital in about 15 minutes. As we were pulling in, I saw Kiran bava’s car enter from the other side. Clearly he found a way to match our speed. And no he didn’t tail us.

The next hour was a blur. I think I filled out a couple of forms while dad was taken into the ER. Mummy and Shravya accompanied him. Word got around so my aunt and cousins from the area started reaching the hospital. The doctors were checking his vitals. His breathing was still labored. But at least he was stable. At least he was in the hospital. He was in good hands, skilled hands.

Meanwhile I had another task to complete. My flight was in less than 24 hours. I had to go and reschedule it. It turned out to be a simple process, thanks to the rather helpful agent in the Qatar Airways office. I blocked for Dec 10. We returned to the hospital.

Dad had slipped into unconsciousness. His lungs weren’t keeping up. His kidneys were failing. The doctors thought he had internal bleeding although they couldn’t tell where unless they looked deeper. They took him to the ICU – his most hated portion of the hospital.

The ICU is on the fourth floor of Apollo Hyderguda. There were several families like ours. The small waiting area overflowed with anxious relatives. The visiting hours were after 7pm. There was a single security person manning the glass door entrance to the unit. It was humbling and empathizing there that day. There were others in the same situation as ours. Others going through the emotions that we were going through. Others facing decisions that we were facing. Some faces hopeful, others worried and yet others scared.

Around 6:30pm I walked towards the security guard hoping to get into the ICU earlier than the 50 others waiting in line. To my surprise, he said the duty doctor wanted to talk to me anyway and let me in.

To be continued…

“We Are Declaring Him” – Part II

… Read these first:

Mom went and called chacha. I needed physical help to assist daddy on to the wheelchair. He came in. We lifted dad off the loo seat and tried to shift him to the wheelchair.

And he slumped.

I knew exactly what they mean by ‘dead weight’. Between chacha and me we weren’t able to help him on to the wheelchair. Dad had slumped but wasn’t on the floor. Chacha and I both were holding him from falling down. We HAD to get him on the wheelchair. The cramped quarters of the bathroom weren’t helping. I somehow got under him and with all my might lifted his upper body. Chacha pulled from the top and we were able to get him on the wheelchair. He wasn’t sitting right. His position on the wheelchair was slouched. But that’s the best we could do. We desperately needed to get him out of the bathroom.

That was when I realized his stomach wasn’t moving in its regular breathing rhythm. He had stopped breathing. I called out a couple of times “Daddy, Daddy” No response. I lightly slapped him on the cheek trying to wake him up from his unconscious state. Mummy was in panic. I can’t recall what chacha was doing.

I asked mummy to check his pulse. She said there was none. I decided we needed to first wheel him out into the bedroom. We did. By that time he started breathing again – wheezing and gasping. Mummy went and called Shravya – chacha’s daughter and a doctor. She checked the pulse and said it was faint but on.

I called 911 108. Told the dispatch I needed an ambulance and told them the general address. The lady kept asking me district and mandal. I got irritated a bit and told her this is Hyderabad city. She hung up. The dispatcher hung up the phone. SHE FUCKING HUNG UP! No time to get mad. I gave the phone to chacha and asked him to make the call as he probably knows the answers to some of their questions.

Meanwhile I made one more call. My cousin Kiran is an amazingly resourceful person and someone who acts out instantly. While we were wheeling dad out from the bathroom he was the only person I could think of. I called him and just said “Emergency”. I knew he was on his way.

That morning, I had asked my friend Raj to arrange an oxygen tank for dad. He sent his driver to get one and deliver at our home. He called right at that moment saying he was in front of the gate. We quickly got the tank in connected it. Dad’s breathing was still heavy but at least regular.

The ambulance came – within 8-10 mins of the call. Kiran bava came – right before the ambulance. The paramedics loaded him onto a stretcher and into the back of the ambulance. The discussion there was whether we should take him to Apollo Hyderguda – the nearest location, or Apollo Banjara Hills – a 40 minute drive – where he was being originally treated. I can’t recall who made the decision (I think it was Kiran bava) but we decided to take him to the closest ER.

The siren was on, we got into the ambulance and set out. I felt a strange feeling. 6 years ago I had got into an ambulance with Aarya in it when he burned his face during July 4 celebrations. Son then, father now.

To be continued…