Story behind the story

It was while reporting on the cholera outbreak in Hyderabad last month that I made a discovery, and it wasn’t about the presence of E coli bacteria in the water pumped into our homes. The city was reeling under the shock of the poor quality of water being supplied by the water board, residents were crying foul and water board officials were busy denying reports. In the midst of all this, a senior official of the National Institute of Communicable Diseases (NICD) landed from Kolkata to conduct tests to verify whether it was indeed a cholera epidemic in the IT hub. Needless to say, she had scribes like me calling her up constantly for a clarification or for that one question that we forgot to ask the last time. But ironically, after the first call itself I, and I believe a dozen other scribes covering the outbreak, had started hoping she wouldn’t take our calls. Not that she was rude or anything, in fact she was very obliging, but her caller tune, it had left us helpless. It was a rare Bengali melody and I for one knew I had to get not just my cholera stories from her but also lay my hands on the song.
Thankfully, I managed to hear it a few times and with the help of Google and a Bengali colleague finally found the song that had been haunting me — ‘Ayi shundoro sarnali shondha’ — sung by Geeta Dutt, from the film `Hospital’. And thanks to the Bengali colleague’s uncle’s impressive song collection, had the song finally playing on my system. I also managed to find the black-and-white video of the song featuring Suchitra Sen and Ashok Kumar on YouTube and the senior NICD official was finally spared of incessant calls.
It was a happy month for a die-hard fan of old film songs like me, as far as lilting melodies were concerned — this was the third discovery I had made. After all, it is not often that old gems like these surface from nowhere. After all, you may find ‘Mausam hai bada awesome’ easily but it is rare for a ‘Thandi hawaye lehra ke aaye’ to crop up.
A few days before the cholera surprise, another rare melody had surfaced, surprisingly in the midst of a dusty election rally in the Old City of Hyderabad. A first time candidate’s campaign manager had Mohammed Rafi crooning ‘Baad muddat ke ye ghadi aayi’ from Jahan Ara. I had to call this manager over a dozen times for the candidate’s affidavit details (since they were not put up on the election commission website yet) and for once chasing someone for information wasn’t a hassle at all. Reports of the day over, it was time to hit Google again.
But the most pleasant of the three surprises that sprung in a short span was the visit of Shamshad Begum to Hyderabad for a felicitation function. At the function, many of her songs were rendered by a bunch of young people and the playback singer of ‘Kajra Mohabbatwala’, ‘Kabhi aar kabhi paar’ and the now remixed song `Saiyaan dil mein aana re’, sat quietly, clapping gently once in a while, a half smile never leaving her face.
Much like the smile that an ‘Aa chal ke tujhe, main le kar chalun ek aise gagan ke tale’ playing creakily in an auto rickshaw brings on the faces of people sitting in it. Or that half annoyed smile of a man with a heart condition as he listens to ‘Pal pal dil ke paas’ that plays tellingly as his cardiologist’s caller tune.
Yes, sometimes the grim realities of life are ironed out thanks to a few strains of music, of melodies. And now with swine flu surfacing in Hyderabad, I’m hoping that perhaps the lady from NICD will be brought back, just in case she has a new caller tune — one that lifts the mood even while reporting on the many ills that ail us.

Lost in the din of DJs

• 
  Sitting in his small office with a yellow smiley adorning the otherwise bare walls, Ali Sagar smiles when he says he was known for his flawless rendering of Mohammad Rafi's `Dard-e-dil', a hit song from the movie `Karz'. As part of an active orchestra team, he recollects the months of November and December as the busiest time of the year with 25 to 30 shows slated through the month at various wedding venues. The money was good, the popularity even better. ``Our rate was fixed. No haggling,'' he says, with a hint of pride. This was less than a decade ago, in 1999. Now, these two months are as charm-less as the rest of the year for him as a singer.
  Requests for performances started dipping in early 2000. His team wasn't getting enough work to stay together so they split. Ali, who is now an event manager with `Fun 2 Events Creations', says he would call his orchestra team members as and when he got a performance request. But, that is never more than three to four times a month. It wasn't that Ali's performance had deteriorated. It was just that city weddings were waking up to the synchronised beats of mixed and re-mixed music. The orchestra comprising the tabla, guitar, keyboard with a live singer was no longer the status symbol a DJ so readily gifted to a marriage party.
  When the Indian wedding story is undergoing a glossy makeover, when functions such as mehendis and sangeets are being embraced by more and more `non-Punjabi' communities and marriage celebrations have extended from two-day affairs to week long ceremonies, these activities have inadvertently promised more employment opportunities and more money than ever before. But, the people who once pepped up wedding receptions with renditions of `baharon phool barasao' have nothing to celebrate.
  Clearly, the big fat Indian wedding has left orchestra parties in the cold. They now form the subaltern reality of the great Indian wedding industry __ of skilled instrumentalists and singers earning much less, ironically in a sector where spending has sky rocketed over the last few years.
  If an established orchestra team commanded a price of Rs 20,000 to Rs 25,000 until a few years ago, they admit that they perform even if offered Rs 14,000 now. ``But even then, some other party would agree to perform for as less as Rs 7,000 to Rs 8,000 and we lose the contract,'' says a musician, not wishing to be named.
  While `established' musicians of orchestra parties still manage to make Rs 1,000 per show (given that an orchestra team comprises an average of ten members), others have to do with earnings as low as Rs 500 to Rs 600, certainly not good enough when even getting shows everyday is not guaranteed.
  So, while some tabla players now practice the drums or at best the `dholki', the keyboard player has started lessons for children. Some offer choreography lessons for `sangeet' parties, others are now into event management, their instruments safely locked in their cupboards.
  Musicians say that though the process of getting sidelined from the wedding industry has been gradual, it has left them shocked. After all, Hyderabad was a culturally sound city and it had takers for live music bands. Orchestras were integral to weddings. ``I came to Hyderabad from Kolkata about 14 years ago. There was a lot of respect for artists here,'' says Partho Mukherjee, tabla player, who rues that the city has lost its respect for musicians.
  Mukherjee, who took an eight-year break from the city's orchestra scene when he went on to play with a well-known bhajan singer and on spiritual channels, is all the more offended with the changes in the orchestra scene in Hyderabad. ``It hits me now, since I was out of the circuit for so long. When you saw you are a tabla player, they just brush you aside,'' he says.
  Singers, too, who have been serenading audiences for years now, are sidelined. ``I came back from Saudi Arabia and started this work in 1986. My wife is a singer, so she would perform and I would manage the events,'' says AAH Roofi, recollecting he was doing a 100 shows yearly. While his business has expanded, offering entertainment solutions, it has lost its old-world feel.
  And Roofi misses it. ``We go only to selected people now,'' he says, adding that despite the caution exercised, not all shows are successful. ``Last week, we were called for an evening of traditional songs. But, soon the crowd wanted new songs so we had to end the live show and play CDs,'' he says.
  The clamour for new songs has also ensured that there is little scope for instrumentalists to perform. After all, they point out very few contemporary songs have the same emphasis on each instrument as was the case in the past. The popular songs like `jhalak dikhla ja' or `tere bin' have little role for instruments, they note. Mukherjee, however, is thankful for the occasional `kajrare' or `subhan allah (Fanaa)' that come by to keep him busy on his tabla.
  Industry observers note that given the metamorphosis weddings have undergone and the category of people orchestras are pitted against for survival, it is only predictable that they are ignored in this marriage melee. ``The orchestra has gone dead. We are now getting troops from Bangalore, Chennai and Sri Lanka. They are called fusion dance troops and are immensely popular,'' says wedding planner M Krishnatma, who heads Pebble Stones, an event management firm. These `fusion' troops cost anywhere between Rs 3 to 4 lakhs to up to Rs 15 lakhs, he says.
  ``Moreover, the orchestra does not belong to this cadre of event,'' says Rakhi Kankaria, who heads an event management company adding that if an orchestra is required, they are sourced from Mumbai or Delhi. These are teams headed by a small time celebrity. ``It's the status of people you are inviting,'' she says.
  So, while there is enough music in weddings, there is no space for these musicians. For instance, there are item girls, mujra and belly dancers or both that are in demand for the bachelor's party bash. An estimated Rs 5 lakhs is spent on the performers alone. ``We also have DJs, one dedicated for adults and another for the young, and `serenaders' who strum their guitars and sing along while the cocktails are on. It is more of style and aplomb,'' Kankaria says.
  Besides, with marriages revolving around concepts of decor and colour themes, even music is fine-tuned. ``If the wedding set is based on the theme of European architecture, we will have English music, and not the regular,'' says B Yadukrishna, an art director who models sets for marriages.
  While one would assume that this is the reality of only high-end weddings, wedding planners note that the fascination for style now cuts across all sectors, irrespective of paying capacities. Just that, if one may not be able afford the serenaders (priced at Rs 15,000 for an evening and flown down from other metros and put up in hotels), they may not opt for the orchestra either but go for a DJ, their per evening rate ranging from Rs 7,000 to Rs 20,000.
  Small wonder then, that musicians from orchestra parties have to carve out other job roles for themselves. Uday Singh of an orchestra named after him, has been in the business for the last eight years that performs even now. He insists that business is fine, but adds that they get more `sangeet' offers than wedding receptions. ``We prepare family members for performances for the `sangeet' ceremony,'' he says, adding that the cost of choreographing them ranges from Rs 8,000 to Rs 15,000. ``If we give our dancers, the cost shoots to Rs 20,000,'' he says, adding that he got into this line of activity two years ago.
  Ali too woke up to other options soon enough. He started approaching schools and colleges with `entertainment solutions’, orchestra squeezed between dance performances and mimicry shows. He says he does get requests for singing but the demand is no longer for `Dard-e-dil'. People want `Dard-e-Disco'. ``I hire younger performers who belt out such numbers. I cant do that,'' he says.
  
  

To cook or not to cook

It's been almost a month since we moved into our new rented house and life has not been more hectic ever since. After the packing came the unpacking and after the unpacking came the endless arrangement and rearrangement of stuff. Amidst all this chaos came two oustation trips and a minor accident. And adding confusion to all this chaos was my resolution to cook myself.

I had three maids in the house we stayed in earlier. One to cook, the second to clean and the third to straighten cushions and fold clothes. We felt outnumbered more than once with the presence of three women in the house floating around doing their work as we watched them. Apart from watching them, I also made tea and packed our lunch boxes.

Now, I have one maid who cleans and helps a bit in the kitchen. I insist that my cooked food tastes better and is also healthier. I resolved not to keep a cook and make `ghar ka khana'.

The resolution lasted for quite some time__one week to be precise. I pasted a weekly menu card on the kitchen cupboard that listed sandwiches for Monday breakfast and poha for Tuesday. I followed it religiously and I have two burn marks, albeit small ones, one on my left arm and another on my left little finger to prove the same.

But, if the first week of cooking was regular, it has been anything but that the following weeks. If the first week of cooking had paneer capsicum masala for lunch, it is now plain boiled dal and rice. The breakfast options too have changed from parathas to simple boiled egg and bread combo.

Either I am waking up late and have no time to cook or just the idea of turning to the fridge to take out vegetabls is turning me off. The restaurant across the road with prompt home delivery service has been of great help, of late. Fishing out his menu card from the kitchen drawer is the closest I find myself going to the gas stove, particularly in the evenings. By now I have tried most of his north Indian specialities and two Chinese dishes. I have started asking the man who takes my calls for orders to suggest what he thinks I have not had in a long time. He suggests grudgingly.

Now, I am tired of his food too. Last night, I ordered from another restaurant and didn't really enjoy it. I introspected and decided it was time I bend over my growing paunch and pull up my socks and start cooking. I cooked this morning. I made pizzas and dal and sabzi. It tasted good and I now think that I should stick to cooking :) .

Fearing Equality

I had visited Medak district last week and came across this man there. What he said was not only interesting, but thought provoking as well.
Here is the story I did on him.

Nayinijalalpur (Medak): On Mrigasira Karti, Dakkali Kotaiah enjoys a traditional lunch of fish and rice prepared by his wife and daughter-in-law and then sits lazily under a tree picking his teeth and talks about how equality among social classes and castes is not entirely a fair idea.
Kotaiah is neither regressive nor is he on top of the human created social order looking down upon the lower castes. He, in fact, stands lowest on the social scale created in the ancient times and was once treated as an untouchable and made to eat near garbage bins. But now, he says, things have changed and he is no longer treated as badly. He doesn't use the word `improved' when he talks about the change in the attitude of people towards the community he belongs to__ the Dakkalis.
His unfavourable views about the changing times, one soon realises, are due to his practical economic concerns. The Dakkali community, he says, has been dependent on Madigas for their livelihood since time immemorial. ``For them (the Madigas), it is a duty to part with a share of their earnings every year and hand it over to us. For us, getting this share is a right. It has been going on for many years. As a child, I used to accompany my father when he visited Madiga families for his share, now I am carrying forward this family tradition,'' Kotaiah says, adding that even those Dakkali families that are now well off continue to practice it.
There are five Dakkali families in this sleepy Nayinijalalpur village in Kolcharam mandal, about 90 km from Hyderabad, tucked about 10 km away from Medak highway. Kotaiah, 50, is the senior most member of the Dakkali community in this village and says that the line between castes is now getting blurred.
``Earlier, we were never allowed to cross the threshold of the Madiga homes when we went there to seek our share. We were given money and the food was served to us near garbage dumps,'' he says matter-of-factly. Now, he says, he is allowed inside the houses. ``They serve us food properly inside the house. They even ask us to dine with them,'' he says.
Strangely, Kotaiah is not happy with this invitation and is, in fact, perturbed. ``I don't want to sit with them and eat,'' he says, stubbornly. His refusal does not stem from memories of the past when he was treated poorly by them. ``If I eat with them, I will be considered their equal and not dependent on them. They could then stop giving me money,'' he says. One reason why he takes his eldest son along with him on each trip to these houses is to familiarise him with the process and so that the Madiga community members never forget to part with the Dakkali share.
``Each Dakkali would have a claim on a certain number of Madiga families,'' Kotaiah says. So, his claim is on a few Madiga families, that are at a slightly higher social level than Dakkalis, spread across 20 villages in Medak district. While some of these Madiga families earn a living by playing drums on weddings and festivals, others double up as informers announcing festival dates and events to be held in their villages.
``We visit them once a year and collect money. Some give Rs 100, some a bit more,'' he says. Ask him how much he made last year, he hesitantly gives a modest figure of over Rs 1,000.
That money, he says, is additional to what he earns from other means. Kotaiah owns six donkeys and his thatched roof house bordered by a small fence appears one of the bigger ones in the village. His father owned a piece of land that the family sold and Kotaiah and his brothers shared the money among them. He now goes for daily wage work and earns about Rs 30 a day. His eldest son, who got married recently, sells donkey's milk which they say is known to have medicinal value.
The fairly smooth life that he seems to be leading is, however, not without concerns about the changing and emerging trends. He grudges that his two younger sons resent the practice of seeking alms from Madigas. ``They are going to school and learning new things. They don't like me going to these families seeking alms. I don't think they would carry forward this practice once I am gone,'' Kotaiah says, adding that while the eldest son helped him in this, he was educating his other children, two sons and one daughter, hoping that they would find jobs under schedule caste quota.
``But, if they don't get jobs, they could have banked on this tradition for a livelihood which they dislike,'' he rues, adding that even Madigas were getting educated and may decide to discontinue this discriminatory practice. ``I am worried about such times to come,'' Kotaiah says.

(The Times of India, Hyderabad edition, June 11, 2007)

Houseful

On my way to work this morning I saw this huge board annoucing yet another mall on a yet another busy junction. I was stuck in a jam when I saw the board and started thinking of the days when I had just moved to Hyderabad.
Three years ago, when my husband moved to Hyderabad I wasn't too keen on joining him, until I visited the city myself. I clearly remember the day I first visited the city and was taken in by its wide tree lined roads, gulmohar trees in full bloom, the smooth traffic flow.. it was too picture perfect. I went back to Mumbai and submitted my transfer application, a decision I had thought I wouldn't be taking in a hurry.
From over an hour-long commute to a nine-minute auto ride to reach work was heavenly to say the least. There were loads of eating places to choose from and many were just a five-minute walk away. Theatres didn't need advance booking. Life was comfortable.
Now, the nine-minute commute is an hour long ordeal in the evenings and 40-minute polluted rides in the mornings. The restaurants that were once a few kilometres away are now distant by several hours. The bright gulmohar flower laden trees that stood out as bright spots even on a gloomy day have been chopped for road widening. The traffic that was once smooth is now chaotic.
Many flyovers have come up and some are under construction, but the congestion has only worsened. And just when I thought that things can't get any worse, a traffic police official said that more flyovers were being planned. He warned that if immediate steps were not taken the city would come to a standstill. Well, the immediate steps taken until recently have only left the city dug. Wonder what these new steps would result in.

(pic courtesy: www.hindu.com)

Happy Tokenism Day

March 8 has been more of an SMS day. While some messages coaxed women to either celebrate their inner strength others suggested cherishing dreams. Some messages reminded women that they were lovely people and, yes, they should pass on the SMS to other lovely women they knew.
I was reading the messages soon after hearing out a cousin’s wedding plan, wherein among other things a brand new top-end model of a car had been promised to the groom’s family. It’s a done thing, I was told, and explained it’s difficult to get a ``suitable boy’’ these days minus such `perks’__ perhaps a new name for dowry__ that still is an integral part of many weddings. And a woman’s day celebration does not promise to change this disturbing social reality.
Nevertheless, the day is extremely popular. At work, the otherwise indifferent office boy, who I have observed prefers to first fill the water bottles of male colleagues, wished me a happy woman’s day. I wondered if he would give me preferential treatment through the year since it has finally dawned on him that I am a lovely person because I am a woman.
My office help is only the latest entrant in this gimmick-ridden celebration of womanhood, the first being mobile service providers. The others being political parties (soon after the mushy messages on dreams and strength, came those from political parties announcing the time when their party leader would make a `statement’ on women’s day), and of course, not to be left behind state government that sent an SMS a day before women’s day signed off by the women and child welfare department. The SMS was sadly only a good wish, not supported by any encouraging statistics on women welfare in the state.
E-mails too remind me how women `cement lives and families’ and are an `unbreakable bond’ or some such. The words fail to impress me even though I know they are true. A talented friend who left a job she loved to take care of her child indeed cements her family but her employer like much of the corporate world has not realized it and refuse to make facilities like day cares a mandatory feature that would help ease the burden on the overworked working mother.The hype surrounding women’s day has inadvertently brushed serious issues under the carpet. Would the day be better celebrated if it was supported by statistics of balanced sex-ratios and fewer cases of violence against women? Would it not make better sense to wish a fairly treated sex a very happy women’s day? Until then, it’s plain tokenism.

Black Friday

It is very rare that I catch a film on the first day of its release, but I managed to watch Black Friday first day, first show and must say it was worth it.

I don't think I have seen a film where characters play real people and are even called by their real names. Not just that, the locations too are real. Restaurants and hotels too are not only identified by their real names but the scenes involving them are even shot there.

Also, the film does not editorialise and gives (as we journalists say while writing a story) all versions. The police are shown not only making arrests but also making mistakes by picking up innocent people. The bombers' reason to carry out the blasts and the eventual change of heart of one bomber is brilliantly done.

But, the surprise package clearly was this talented long time telly actor Pavan Malhotra as Tiger Memon. While he has played brief roles in Hindi films and I always felt he was wasted in many, in Black Friday he stands out, as the scheming right hand man of Dawood Ibrahim. And, did the filmmaker by any chance get the real Dawood to act in the film? For a minute I thought it was the real Dawood or a computer generated image of the don. (Google search gives me his name as Vijay Maurya).

More than anything else, I felt the film was well researched and I stepped out of the theatre a better informed person.

(pic of Pavan Malhotra as Tiger Memon in the film. source:indiafm.com)