Categories
Soft Coroner

Mumbai konachi?

Prashant Shankarnarayan wonders whom to call a son of Mumbai city’s soil, and who can be termed as an outsider. Or are these words just words?

Prashant ShankarnarayanThe situation – A colleague casually retorting to the sons of the soil theory by stating that “Mumbai’s original inhabitants were kolis and East Indians”

The observation:

Last week in office, we were discussing the funeral of ‘those we don’t speak of on the Internet’, when the conversation predictably veered towards “Mumbai konachi?” (Whom does Mumbai belong to?) That is when a colleague wryly mentioned that Mumbai’s original inhabitants were the kolis (fisherfolk) and East Indians. Obviously the sons of the soil would have retorted by landing a punch on his face for not mentioning Marathis. The ones who won’t punch but support the theory would upload on Facebook that the kolis and the East Indians both spoke Marathi, and that Mumbai is the capital of Maharashtra. But what many of us conveniently sweep under the carpet is the vast difference in the Mumbai ruled by indigenous rulers, and the Mumbai that stands today.

Everyone and his uncle stakes claim on Mumbai without admitting that the city as we know today was ‘created’ by the British. In 1784, the Governor of Bombay, William Hornby, officially completed the Hornby Vellard project which united all the seven distinct islands into one landmass. Future reclamations and road and railway projects shaped the Mumbai as we know it today. There were many communities and nationalities that preceded the English but the conjoined map of Mumbai was not created by the ones who claim to be sons of the soil.

Hence to put an end to this question, it is imperative to honestly and neutrally consider:

In terms of race

Kolis, who are of Dravidian origin, are the earliest settlers of the erstwhile seven islands that form present-day Mumbai. Kolis have lived here for thousands of years but as per the Hindu caste system, they are a different community compared to the Marathas, and even though their mother tongue is Marathi, quite a few of them converse in Konkani and English. Yes, Marathi precedes English, but if we were to apply the same logic then the kolis have been eking out an existence even before the reign of the Mauryan emperor Ashoka (around 3rd Century BC), which means that they probably communicated in Prakrit or one of its dialects. The Mauryans were followed by the Satavahanas, who were of Telugu origin and so on. In a nutshell, the kolis existed in Mumbai even before the colloquial Marathi was used as a spoken language.

In terms of religion

My friend was right about the Kolis, but wrong about the ‘East Indian’ bit, because for the Europeans, every Indian was an East Indian. But for us, an East Indian is someone who is a convert to Christianity, incidentally from the western coastal belt. At one point, Mumbai was also ruled by the Gujarat Sultanate, which led to the spread of Islam. However, it is a documented fact that the oldest form of organised religion prevalent in these islands was Buddhism, preceded by Hinduism which again must have been preceded by animism. This means that the original residents of Mumbai were indigenous people who believed in an indigenous religion.

In terms of language

Since ancient times, the seven islands have been ruled by the Mauryans, who communicated in Prakrit, Shatavahanas who communicated in Prakrit or possibly Telugu, Vikatakas who spoke in Maharashtri Prakrit, Kalachauris who were Kannada kings and many other kingdoms including the Marathas (briefly) at a much later stage. Marathi is derived from Maharashtri Prakrit, but so are Konkani and few other dialects. This clearly shows that Mumbai was not necessarily ruled only by Marathi speaking rulers in the past. In fact, Mumbai was already a multi-lingual city even before the Marathas captured parts of Salsette in 1737.

The Mumbai story

So whom does this city belong to? If it belongs to the kolis, then we are only mentioning the ancient seven fishing hamlets and not the present land mass as it exists. And while Mumbai was originally ruled by Hindu and Buddhist rulers, we can’t ignore the contribution of the Muslim royals from Gujarat and European Christians at different junctures.

In a way, Mumbai’s reputation as a land of opportunities enhanced when Parsis, Gujratis, Dawoodi Bohras, Jews, Goans, etc landed here after the British established the first mint in 1670 – four years before Chhatrapati Shivaji’s coronation as the first Maratha emperor. It clearly indicates that Mumbai was a melting pot of communities even before the Maratha Empire came into existence. It’s because the only distinct identity that Mumbai possesses in context to other Indian cities is its fabulous work culture and cosmopolitanism.

Mumbai belongs to the one who works hard and the only indigenous culture is the thriving work culture. It belongs to the Parsee philanthropists who built the city and its great institutions, to the Gujarati and Marwari businessmen who transform first class compartments into a mini share bazaar, to the Marathi housewife who juggles her job and family even as her husband works hard to make ends meet, to the Sindhi and Punjabi refugees who lost their motherland to another country, yet carved out a successful life, to the South Indian educated class who brought in their professionalism and sincerity that defines Mumbai’s rise, to the Shetty hotel owners who have been feeding Mumbai since pre-independence days, and to millions of  migrants from every community, and different nationalities who have equally contributed to Mumbai’s success story in their own way.

Hence, watching an autorickshaw driver from another state refusing to ferry Mumbaikars is as painful as watching a few locals trying to hold a Talibanesque control over the city. We owe a better Mumbai to the martyrs of the Samyukta Maharashtra Movement and to the many unsung heroes of the past. Over hundreds of years, many outsiders worked hard to convert few islands into one of the world’s leading cities and hence, in my humble opinion, the only insider in Mumbai is the outsider.

Prashant Shankarnarayan is a mediaperson who is constantly on the lookout for content and auto rickshaws in Mumbai. ‘Soft Coroner’ tries to dissect situations that look innocuous at the surface but reveal uncomfortable complexities after a thorough post mortem.

(Picture courtesy wikimedia.org)

Categories
Overdose

Do your job, do it NOW

Jatin Sharma writes on our collective tendency to not make those who serve us accountable for their (lack of) duty.

Jatin SharmaI’ve been writing on several issues – public apathy, making a tamasha out of a funeral, celebrating festivals over mobile phones. But today, I am writing about a domestic issue.

Please don’t stop reading. Sure, other people’s domestic issues are very boring, but I need an intelligent head to help me out here.

A month ago, my maid didn’t turn up for work. She didn’t even inform me about her impending leave. I was quite handicapped as all the household chores were now my problem. I didn’t do them as I thought she would turn up the next day. But she didn’t arrive the next day as well. So, juggling my office schedules, I finally did all the housework.

But laziness made me sit out one more day. Plus, my mind started playing with questions: I had hired her to do my housework, I had never been late with her payment, I had always shown her consideration, so why did she treat me like this? My thoughts made me so adamant, I decided not to move a finger till she showed up next.

Three days later, she arrived unannounced. By now, the house was a pigsty, and I was about to burst with anger. I asked her how she could leave my house to be dirtied, to be infested by cockroaches and spiders. She reacted to my comments as if I was playing Mozart to her – with only half an ear on my voice. Realising that she was not paying any heed to me, I became angrier and made myself clearer. Or rather, I laid down a few rules: if she failed to come to my house for work and also failed to inform me that she wasn’t coming that day, I would deduct the day’s dues from her salary. Further, if there was the slightest deviation from these rules, I would fire her.

I can’t see someone dirty my house. If I don’t lay down the rules for her, she will feel free to act with impunity and leave my house open for filth and pests. Don’t you agree?

And if you agree that I should be stricter with my domestic help in order to discipline her, I am sure that you will also agree that we need to discipline our public servants. I am not saying they are domestic helps. But I am quite appalled by the way our public servants are currently working. They have no fear of retribution and some of them, like the police, are creating no fear in others.

I was reading the story of an acid attack victim the other day, where the attackers were caught after two months. They were given a mere nine-year jail sentence, and they secured bail after just four months of being locked up. Even after the attack, the criminals had the audacity to threaten the family, while the girl’s father was trying to seek justice. Of course, justice was denied – shouldn’t punishments be able to stop crime? – but I don’t think it made any difference to the criminals’ lives.

I was so irked by this story and the so-called public servants responsible for the mess. But this happens because we as a society have failed to make our servants work. They have been shirking their duties and sometimes denying to perform them, and our failure lies in not performing ours.

Our failure in getting work done from our government is quite shameful. This is a country that is considered to be intellectually enlightened, and this is the same country where everyone boasts of sanskaar, pratishtha and sammaan. But our ‘intellectual enlightenment’ makes us decide things on the basis of which side of the equation we are on: the victims’ or the victimisers’. If we are a victim, we talk about the crappy state of this country and its laws, and want to raise a voice. But if we are the vicitimisers, then we very conveniently let the law take its own course and see to it that it doesn’t.

We may try to bribe, modify and influence people’s opinion. For the sake of love and emotions attached to our loved ones, we pressurise the judicial system and use our influences. We let public servants become our puppets; we become the puppeteers who make others dance to our tunes.

I could go on and on, but let me just say this: why do we wait to support a matter of justice only when we are victims? Why don’t we raise our voice when somebody we don’t know is seeking justice too? It is just gossip when it happens to our neighbours, colleagues or peers. Why do we say, ”Mujhe kya karna hai?” or “ Yaar, ismein padke koi faayda nahin hai”?

Things can work when we make our system work, when our public servants work properly. Today, those meant to serve the public feel that they can do whatever they want to because we are not making them accountable for their work. We are simply shrugging off their ineptitude. It is time that the masters take charge and start controlling the servant better. If we are not going to act like a responsible master, our houses are going to be infested by much worse than cockroaches and filth.

Jatin Sharma is a media professional who says he doesn’t want to grow up, because if he grows up, he will be like everyone else.

(Picture courtesy outlookindia.com)

Categories
Enough said

The pain of Gaza

Humra Quraishi writes on how our collective detachment to the Gaza crisis and our pro-Israel stand has affected Arab-Indo relations.

I’ve been watching scenes of complete disaster in the Gaza belt unfold on my TV screen, and I am left wondering: where are the so-called world leaders who talk of peace? Where is the US President, Barack Obama, who ought to start his second term in power by trying to save the lives of hapless Palestinians; if nothing else, then at least to win a few brownie points! Where is the United Nations at the moment? And more to the point, where is our own government?

I confess I am shamed and shocked at the muted response to the barbaric killings of Palestinians. We sit detached as scores of Palestinians are being killed and pushed to the  edge in their own homeland. Is this happening because of our pro-America, pro-Israel tilt? If it is, then our current politics is a far cry from the time when Jawaharlal Nehru and Indira  Gandhi had close personal ties with the Arab nations, and with Palestinian leader Yasser Arafat.

I’d attended a few receptions in New Delhi, where Indira Gandhi had honoured Yasser Arafat, and he, in turn, had showered praises on his ‘sister’ Indira. And it’s a well-known fact that in the 1950s, Nehru had gifted a sprawling bungalow on New Delhi’s Prithvi Raj Road to the first Iraqi envoy to India. The bungalow still stands, tall and elegant, but it is just about vacant. After Iraq was pounded by the American forces, the Iraqi embassy here shrank rapidly, gradually reduced to nothingness.

While covering the social scene of the capital city for almost three decades, I have witnessed the years when traditional Arab hospitality and warmth held sway here. The frequent parties and luncheons at the homes of envoys of Lebanon, Iraq, Palestine, Libya, Kuwait and Qatar were not just vibrant, they relayed warmth. And the Arab-India bonding lasted till about the time America and the allied forces invaded Iraq.

Even today, the plight of the Palestinians gets buried in the back pages of our newspapers, accompanied by occasional pictures of hundreds dying. We tend to overlook the complete picture, the historical context, and the very basics of the problem. In this context, I quote Palestinian envoy to India, Osama Musa, who had once said to me, “We have been under occupation all these years, over several decades. Can’t America see the killings that take place on a daily basis? I tell you, without America’s support, Israel is zero. Israelcannot survive a single day if America doesn’t support it. Israel is equipped by tanks and war planes, whereas we Palestinians only have a police force armed by mere pistols.”

He added, “You ask how peace will come about? It will happen the day Israel ends its occupation. We have been telling the Israelis to leave us alone. We are restricted to only 23  per cent of the total land that originally belonged to us. The rest is with Israel. Their policies have affected over six million Palestinians – of which three million are displaced, and the other three million live in their own land as slaves, not as free citizens.”

Humra Quraishi is a senior political journalist. She has authored Kashmir: The Untold Story, and is co-author of Simply Khushwant.

(Featured image courtesy www.csmonitor.com) 

 

Categories
M

Exporting now: Irrfan

Irrfan is a worthy export to Hollywood, unlike some others who promise the moon and make colossal fools of themselves.
by M | M@themetrognome.in

It’s a big deal for an actor to bag a role in an Ang Lee film. Kudos to Irrfan for his role in Life of Pi. He is a very good actor and is adept at playing the assigned character with ease and skill in any film, but I do have a problem with his accent in Life of Pi. It is bizarre; part British, part Punjabi, it will stick out for its strangeness, for sure.

When packing their bags to leave for Hollywood, why do our actors forget to carry a phonetics dictionary and a diction coach? A little work on the diction would go a long way for most of our recent exports – Frieda Pinto in The Rise of the Planet of the Apes desperately needed a full-time diction coach. Also, an acting coach, I think.

Irrfan is not the first Indian export to Hollywood. From Amrish Puri in Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom to Gulshan Grover in American Daylight, many have left their mark on Hollywood. But Irrfan is certainly a worthy export, a man who has played unforgettable characters in such Hollywood films as The Namesake and A Mighty Heart, unlike another actor who shall remain nameless, but who made a pretty big fool of himself recently.

In 2010, this actor – one of Hindi cinema’s top actors from the 90’s – was in a film that eventually won several Academy Awards. This Hollywood outing opened the doors for a series of short stints on American TV shows and films. Soon, he was to feature in one of Hollywood’s biggest action-thriller franchises, starring a Hollywood A-lister. At the same time, our star had a home production scheduled to release in cinema halls back home.

One will never forget the hullabaloo created around this star and his role in the big Hollywood film – his ‘crucial’ scene to be shot in Dubai, that this star was shooting for one of the biggest banners in the world, how he had to travel to Dubai and then London and then God knows where else for this important role, how there was a month-long schedule for his scenes. He even featured on an Indian chat show where film celebrities sit across the host and chit-chat with him for 30 minutes over coffee.

Not that we weren’t proud of our star’s achievement, but he began to annoy us all with his constant self-praise. But the PR around the film was done so well, that at one point, we expected an Oscar-worthy role that would do wonders for his dying acting career back home.

Closer to the release of the film in India, the A-list Hollywood celebrity visited the country and our desi star played host. With a lot of expectation, especially considering that our man had looked pretty decent in a blink-and-miss-glimpse in the trailers, people headed to the cinema halls.

Our star made a fool of himself. The cinema halls roared with laughter during the miniscule scene when our desi celeb made an appearance. He was hilarious – the scene was supposed to be funny anyway, but where had that accent come from? He played a mafia guy in the film, but that accent was better suited to a guy enrolling for a Rapidex English speaking course.

We could have let this pass if he hadn’t made our ears bleed with his “Look, I am international celebrity now,” plugs in the media. Suffice it to say But his international TV series role was quite bearable.

Moral of the story: If you ever get cast in an international film, let your role do the talking or you’ll just get bi***-slapped.

Sharp as a tack and sitting on more hot scoops than she knows what to do with, M is a media professional with an eye on entertainment. 

Categories
Patrakar types

Don’t wanna miss a thing

Why do papers and channels think people are interested in knowing who broke a news story ahead of the competition?
by Vrushali Lad | vrushali@themetrognome.in

When I was employed with newspapers full time, the biggest issue I faced was not that I hadn’t properly expressed myself in a story I wrote for the day’s edition, or that I hadn’t packed in enough detail. No, the one big issue, and it was the first thing that struck me when I woke up in the morning, was:

“Have I missed a story?”

Most reporters wake up and check their phones for messages and missed calls – with thoroughly guilty consciences – from potentially irate editors. The best feeling in the world is to know that the office did not call or text while you slept, and that the worst that happened to you was that you won the Coca Cola Lottery again this week.

The feeling of contentment lasts but a few seconds. Reporters then leap at the newspapers – of which, each serious journalist’s house will have at least seven, sometimes in more than two languages – and study the news sections as if preparing for a pop quiz. And while they’re sitting in a sea of newspapers, they’ll also check the TV news. I know reporters who read newspapers, hold the TV remote in one hand and their BBs in the other, and simultaneously check the news feeds on all three.

This enthusiasm serves three functions – one, you know what the competition has published and you haven’t; two, you know if your story really was ‘exclusive’ or not; and three, you can mentally prepare your arguments for and against a certain item in a rival publication or channel (“But sir, what do you mean ‘Why don’t we have that story? YOU told me not to write it!”)

In the event that a reporter has missed a story, a new drama unfolds. He has to first pick up the phone and confirm if the rival’s news is true or a random tweet. If true, he has to get to work and track a good follow up to the story. Meanwhile, he has to count to 100 while his boss tells him, in 10 different ways, that he is an incompetent ass. After that, he has to promise himself never to miss a story again.

I used to be part of these shenanigans myself, and when I would tell my mum about it (my mum is this erudite, painfully analytical woman who has often given me stories) about how I missed a story and what a big loss it was to my paper, she would shoot me a look that said: So?

Over the years, you learn to calm down about missing a story, because in the larger scheme of things, you find that people don’t really care if you missed reporting about a factory opening in Ulhasnagar, or if an aged actor was admitted to hospital for an ingrown toenail. But try telling that to your editor. The merest suggestion of, “But how is this important to our readers…?” has made many an editor foam at the mouth and throw furniture at the staff.

Similarly, readers do not care if you were the only one in the country to report something that the others didn’t. So claims of ‘We were the first to report that…’ or ‘Remember, you read it here first,’ only open you up to ridicule. Again, reminding an editor of this is akin to stealing birthday cake from the birthday boy’s plate.

People only want to be told the news truthfully and completely, in a way that doesn’t insult their intelligence. Readers can see right through a plug, they are not impressed with claims of ‘The Home Ministry took this action after our report’ and if you want to see a reader’s blood pressure shoot, put a chaddi-bra ad on the paper’s front page. While papers and channels are playing Hits And Misses all day, their readers are reading the line ‘We told you first!’ and thinking, So?

Vrushali Lad is a freelance journalist who has spent several years pitching story ideas to reluctant editors. Once, she even got hired while doing so.

(Picture courtesy www.thehindu.com)

Categories
Soft Coroner

The power of aa-darr

Prashant Shankarnarayan writes on how Mumbai decided to stay indoors on Sunday – and nobody was forced to do so.

The situation – A total lockdown of Mumbai last weekend.

The observation: The lockdown was spontaneous and done to show respect.

A recent event shook the city to its foundations. It closed down all essential services for over a day, made people sit at home and watch TV, and gave rise to the kind of crowds Mumbai hasn’t witnessed in years. Most of those who thronged the streets that day were there out of respect for a leader. The others were forced to wait it out in their homes out of aadar that they were made to show in varied forms. But I believe we’re all making a fuss out of nothing. My life and those of the people I know was as normal as it always has been. Let me give you a few examples to show how nothing changed over the last weekend:

#1) Me: Psst…maal hai kya?

Guy on the street: Hai…kitna chahiye?

Me: Ek kilo milega?

Guy: Theek haiaap zara aage jaake chupke khade ho jao, main leke aata hoon.

This is how I’ve always bought potatoes from my vendor – I dodge through alleys, hide in the shadows, tiptoe to my vendor and whisper my requirement to him. Similarly, he pretends to be asleep and when I approach, dumps a kilo of vegetables in a bag, eyes still closed. I glance around, quickly throw money at him, and let the shadows take me home. Everybody in my area has always shopped this way – housewives, youngsters, married couples, senior citizens. Nothing changed for us on Sunday.

#2) In front of my eyes, nobody snatched baskets from vegetable vendors and emptied them on the road. There were no onions, cabbages and other vegetables strewn about even as cars passed over them. Simple taxpaying onlookers and thela owners did not stare helplessly at the way their area was converted into a mini Deonar garbage dump.

#3) The shutter was almost down, but people had lined up outside the store. The supplier was selling his stock under the supervision of four policemen. This is how I have always bought milk – under police protection. No wonder I feel safe in Mumbai.

My friends also tell me that nothing happened elsewhere in the city.

#4) My friend stays on the fifth floor of a housing society in the Central suburbs. His ground floor neighbour did not pay him a visit to request him to ‘switch off his Diwali lights’ hanging on the window. Nobody had threatened the lady and told her to switch off her Diwali lights, and nobody told her to visit all other flats in the building and tell everyone to switch their lights off.

#5) My fiancée informed me that cabbies were not charging Rs 1,500 to drop passengers from the Airport to Santacruz.

#6) Cable operators did not block out entertainment channels in different pockets of Mumbai. Cinema houses, malls, multiplexes did not shut down – people just decided not to watch a movie or shop.

#7) A girl was arrested for updating her Facebook status because it was deemed ‘blasphemous’. Even her friend who ‘liked’ her status message was arrested. Nobody vandalised her uncle’s clinic.

On Saturday, nobody blocked traffic going towards Mahim and Dharavi, the media thrashed itself and broke its cameras with its own hands, two buses and a few autorickshaws were struck by lightning at Kalyan and Dombivli and hence got smashed, a neon sign of a closed shop at Bandra suddenly shattered on its own, and stones rained down on BEST buses from the heavens, at Ghatkopar, Pratiksha Nagar, Kamothe (Navi Mumbai) and Naupada (Thane). These were a few reported incidents; I’m sure they did not happen.

Nobody called for a total lockdown. The city chose to sit at home without milk, vegetables, medicines, food, water, and in some areas, newspapers, because the city spontaneously decided, “This is a great day to go hungry and watch the news!” The city was unanimously respectful and chose to go without food and entertainment on its own accord. Nobody was forced to do anything – has anyone ever been forced to down shop shutters or stop plying cabs and autos in this city?

Now excuse me while I go out to get milk. *calls for a posse of policemen to escort him to the milk store.*

Prashant Shankarnarayan is a mediaperson constantly on the lookout for content and auto rickshaws in Mumbai. ‘Soft Coroner’ tries to dissect situations that look innocuous at the surface but reveal uncomfortable complexities after a thorough post mortem.

(Featured image courtesy www.rediff.com. Picture used for representational purpose only)

Exit mobile version