Two tales in one city

It's been widely accepted that Bombay is still safe for women, whereas Delhi is labelled the rape capital of the country.  In all fairness, I don't think any city in India is completely safe for women and Bombay is not what it used to be in the 1980s.

I want to recall 2 recent incidents in this city, which show the dichotomy of life here.

Incident 1:- Juhu Beach 7:00 pm 

It's a "winter" evening in Bombay and rally dark at this hour. I am on an evening jog on the beach heading towards the Godrej bungalow from the Sea Princess. As I cross the crowded section and pass by the food stalls, life seems to be normal.  A few minutes later, I am easing past the Marriott and I start hearing someone screaming "Allah Rakha."  The man then utters the worst profanities in Urdu and continues screaming "Allah Rakha". I reach the lonely stretch before the Godrej Bungalow and I can still hear the screaming.

A girl who I presume is in her 20s is jogging in the opposite direction. I warn her of the psycho screaming in the distance. She laughs it off and says that she has pepper spray and a knife! The pepper spray is for use where someone can see her and the knife is for use in a dark area!! "If someone tries to grope or molest me in a dark stretch, I'll calmly stab him and jog away," she said. "No one will ever be able to find out it was from me...it's so dark"

Incident 2:- Near Haji Ali 8:00 pm

With much difficulty, I manage to get a taxi on a busy evening. Just as I am about to enter, a young woman in office clothes, comes running and says, "I am sharing the cab with you to Bombay Central." I don't object and let her in. She says it was impossible for her to get a cab.

I tell her that something like this is dangerous these days. "I could be a psycho or a serial killer...you never know." She laughs at my face and responds that if I am a serial killer, she is Mother Teresa!

She insists on splitting the cab fare and then vanishes into the crowd.  Needless to say that something like this is unimaginable in any other city in India.

Austrians and stray dogs: And now it's Bertram's turn

All the while, when Bertram, the Austrian from Bandra heard of or witnessed the gruesome and pitched battles between his countrymen and Indian stray dogs, he laughed his head off, going to the point of blogging about Gunter and the Wolf's troubles with the canines.

On a new moon day in dusty, broken down Andheri, karma would rear its ugly head on Bertram. Inflammed by a dry and hot February day, Bertram took the painful and agonising walk through the Andheri market on J.P. Road. The honking of auto rickshaws, the aggresive bikers, the dirty savages spitting and the pollution made the unbearable heat even worse.

As Bertram crossed the Hanuman Temple, he stepped on an unidentified object. Within a second, a loud howl shook the Austrian out of his self-imposed anger with Andheri. Betram had stepped on the paw of a stray dog. The frightened mutt limped away to safety, choosing not to harm the Salzburger. On compassionate grounds, Betram tried to buy a pack of biscuits for the mutt, but the terrified creature ran towards Andheri station fearing for its life.

A sad episode that was none the less over, thought Bertram, but the future had a twist of fortunes awaiting the Bavarian beer-lover.

12  hours after the first encounter with the mutt, Bertram was walking again on the same  J.P. Road. Only this time, the streets were empty and the dogs ruled the roost. As Betram recalled the wonderful moments of the Sicilian opera that he had watched, one bark from a stray turned to 10. It was now time for the morning's mutt to settle old scores. Shouts of shoo, aus, hutt, all fell on ears that were not willing to listen. The mutts smelt Austrian blood. They moved in towards Bertram, who quickly used his reflexes to start a barrage of stone-throws straight at the mutts. The shocked strays made a dash for nearby lanes, barking at their loudest and calling for reinforcements. Bertram was unshaken. It was he, who paid the taxes to the Indian Government and not the canines. The roads were his property.

As Bertram crossed the infamous Navrang Cinema Hall, the barks got softer until they came to a standstill. Yes, it was another victory for the nation that is the successor to the Austro-Hungarian Empire. Somewhere in celestial bliss, Franz Joseph I would have been proud that another one of his soldiers repelled a stray-dog attack in the land of savages!

Of Urban Ghettos

Everybody loves Bandra because it's a liberal, mostly green suburb, which even though is cosmpolitan, is predominantly a Catholic area. It's apparently a pleasant sight to see "Christian-looking" aunties in dresses with bobbed hair. I have never heard anyone refer to areas near St Andrew's Church as "ghettos."

Now compare this to Yari Road, a predominantly Muslim area at the western end of Andheri. Instead of frocks, you see burkhas, burkhas and more burkhas. The trees have been felled and the less posh localities are chaotic. Do so many Muslims live there because they can't get flats in pre-dominantly Hindu buildings? Is it safety in numbers? Is it the comfort of living with members of the same religion?

Are the differences between Bandra and Yari Road, just those of Christians and Muslims? Of being liberal and being conservative?

Confronting a woman-abuser on a Mumbai local train

It started off as a humdrum ride on a local train from Churchgate to Andheri, where my attention was fixed hard on a book. Rush hour hasn't started yet but many office-goers clad in white formal shirts were heading home. When the train stopped at Dadar, among the usual crowd that jumped in, there was a "middle-class looking" couple.

The girl, who looked like she was in her mid-20s, was about to sit, when the man yanked her back and made her stand next to him. A petty quarrel among young lovers, or so I thought. The man, who looked like a Latin American, was built like a truck and his muscles were bulging out. As the train moved on from Dadar, the arguing got louder and the man was increasingly looking violent. All the middle class office-goers pretended to not notice what was going on.

As the man's actions started getting more aggressive, I intervened and said, "excuse me, I think you're making the lady uncomfortable." The guy asked me to "f*** off" and mind my own business. By that time, other people came up to the man and told him to cool off. "She's my fiancee," he said. I responded that he still had no right to physically threaten or abuse her. I had the backing of at least 10 people on the wagon and one person threatened to call a railway police officer. The man got off at Mahim in anger, alone.

The girl stayed on till Vile-Parle, thanking me for standing up for her. I hope that she has the sense to get out of an abusive relationship, but that's her life...

For those of you that think domestic violence exists only in the lower classes of society, think again! Please take a stand against such people. Under no circumstances should violence against women be tolerated in a society that considers itself civilized!

Lack of humanity

The more time I spend away from my isolated cocoon in Andheri, the more I realise how much people lack basic courtesy and a sense of humanity in this city. A few days ago, I saw a blind girl walking to platform number 3 in Andheri station and she had a tough time navigating the busy area and no one seemed ready to help her to walk down the stairs. (God only knows where the hell everybody is in a hurry to get to).  Some people even seemed to "get angry" as they got bumped by the blind girl!! As I walked towards her to help her, a young woman helped her down the steps. Guess there is at least 1 other decent human being left in Bombay!

The same evening, when I was heading north on a local train, I was seated comfortably in a 1st class compartment. At Marine Lines, a young, desperate man comes in to "reserve" his place by standing near the seating area. A few stops later, I see a man well into his 70s, standing and none of the young jerks were ready to offer him a seat. Come on people! What harm would standing for 20 minutes in a not-so-crowded train do?

I offered the old man my seat, only to get a dirty look and sarcastic comment from the guy who got in from Marine Lines! I told him that if more people respected elders, India would be a better and more civlized country. The old man profusely thanked me and called me a "real gentleman". I guess gentlemen are in short supply in this city.

Italian October in Bombay

If there is one European country that most Bombayites love, it has to be Italy. We love Italian food or the American/Gujarathi/Udupi variants of it that we get in this city. Anyone who claims to be an expert on films will list Bicycle Thieves as one of his or her favourites. Then there's the popularity of Serie A football and Formula 1 car racing. Several trendy shops claim to sell everything from clothes to handbags to furniture made in Italy.

Well, the Italians love us too. They are organising a set of wonderful cultural programmes in the city this month. While the rest of the world celebrates the World Italian Language Week, festivities in Bombay go on for more than 15 days.

It all starts on October 8 with the opening of an exhibition of photographs at the Prince of Wales Museum (I refuse to call it the Chatrapati Shivaji Maharaj whatever) titled "The Persistence of Memory" by Dr Ishrat Syed, a noted surgeon and author. The exhibition, on how travel bookends history, will be curated by Syed and co-author Kalpana Swaminthan, who form the Kalpish Ratna team that has written several books, including The Quarantine Papers.

The exhibition will be launched along with another exhibition at the Prince of Wales Museum: Voyage to India of Ludovico de Varthema. The exhibition, which is based on the book 'Itinerary' by de Varthema, which was published in 1510, will be on view at the museum till October 23.

On October 8, at 11:00 am, the ICSSR seminar room at the University of Mumbai (Kalina Campus) will host a programme titled "Storytellers and jesters in the Middle Ages: Dario Fo's theatre." Dr Roberto Bertilaccio, our beloved Italian professor, will present 2 video extracts from Fo's Mistero Buffo  (Comic Mystery). This is part of the World Storytelling Association's international conference, festival and workshop "Magic of the Word: Storytelling for Ecological Conservation and Inter-Racial Harmony."

And then there's Lettera Amorosa, an Italian Music and Dance Concert with music composed by Italian composers of the 17th and 18th century. The concert by Basel, Switzerland-based Musica Fiorita is an invitation-only event at the Tata Theatre at the NCPA at 7:00 pm on October 10.

The celebrations culminate with an Italian Film Festival celebrating the 150th anniversary of the Unification of Italy.

Here's the list and timings of the films, all of which will have English subtitles, at the YB Chavan Centre. (Entry is free)

Oct 17:- 4:30 pm- La Presa di Roma (The Capture of Rome) (1905, silent, 6 minutes)
                              Il piccolo garibaldino (The Garibaldian Boy) (1909, silent, 14 minutes)
              5:00 pm- Allonsanfan, directed by Paolo and Vittorio Taviani (1973, 113 minutes)
              7:30 pm- Senso, directed by Luchino Visconti (1954, 120 minutes)

Oct 18:- 5:00 pm- Arrivano i bersaglieri, directed by Luigi Magni
                             (The marksmen are coming) (1980,  120 mins)
              7:30 pm- Bronte: cronaca di un massacro, directed by Florestano Vancini
                             (Bronte, chronicle of a massacre) (1972, 110 mins)

Oct 19:- 5:30 pm- Siamo uomini o corporali, directed by Camillo Mastrocinque
                              (Are we men or corporals?) (1956, 94 minutes)
              7:30 pm- I soliti ignoti, directed by Mario Monicelli
                             (Big deal on Madonna Street) (1958, 110 minutes)
          
This festival is the result of months of work by Dr Roberto Bertilaccio, the Instituto Italiano di Cultura, New Delhi and the Consulate General of Italy in Mumbai and is supported by the Prince of Wales Museum, The Rome Archives, UNESCO, The Swiss Confederation, Swiss International Airlines, Musica Fiorita, the National Centre for Performing Arts, the Indian Centre for Cultural Relations, the Chavan Centre, VFS Global and the French Department at the University of Mumbai.

The Starer's Club!

In the summer, when I used to take long walks on the beach with a friend, I noticed how people would stare at her for wearing sleeveless tops. The friend in question is no Charlize Theron but her exposed arms would get way too much attention. The perils of being a girl in this sex-starved city, or so I thought.

This morning, when I went on a wonderful monsoon run to Juhu, I was the victim of stares! From men and women. I was wearing my singlet from the KL half-marathon. Those running in normal t-shirts were ignored but the cross-cultural, cross-class starer's club spanning Andheri, Vile-Parle and Juhu couldn't keep their eyes off me! So what is it about arms that make them a magnet for attention?

I am without a clue!

IIT Bombay to host the Mumbai i-race

There are very few places in this crazy city, where you can enjoy a good run like the green and sprawling IIT campus in Powai.

On August 20, the institute will host a 5K and 10K run with a twist. According to the race's website, "the uniqueness of i-Race is that the participants are compared with their own limitations, and the ones who come closest to their abilities are ranked higher."

So, even if you finish slower than other participants, you could be the eventual winner. They use this model http://i-race.yolasite.com/model.php  Under that model, given my weight and height, apparently I can finish the 10K in 34 minutes!!! Pigs would fly first.

It will be a wonderful occasion for sure and a lot of fun. Register on the website and get to the campus by 6:30 am on August 20.

Monsoon lilies in full bloom

This was the wonderful site I woke up to this monsoon morning.

I could count about 15 lilies in this plant and another 9 in the next one.

It's amazing how rain water can make these plants flower. There's obviously some property of rain water that is killed before it is treated and sent to homes in the city. That missing ingredient brings these beautiful pink flowers to my home every monsoon.

Monsoon mess in Mumbai

I find it amusing that year after year, this city lacks the total ability to handle something as basic as the monsoons. This year, the rains caught the city by surprise a couple of weeks early but it's no excuse for the mess. What's more amusing is that people have the same complaints every year. Come on people, spend a week in Delhi in baking 45 degree heat and then complain about the weather here.

This is the way I look at the wonderful rainy season in Bombay. Wear darker t-shirts and shorts and slippers or rubber open-ended sandals. Keep an adequate supply of disinfectant at home and make sure your feet are clean once you step indoors. Last year, the rainy season lasted beyond October and the last shower was on my birthday (November 4)!

Enjoy the rains with warm tea and samosas. Spend a few evenings by the sea-side promenades and if you're getting wet, just remember that more than 60 percent of the population have to worry about their shanties getting flooded.

Monsoons make strange Samaritans

With a heavy downpour over Andheri Station and I had no choice just to battle the elements and fight my way home. I couldn't be sure when it would be stop raining or if the flood-water would recede. In this chaotic mess, I found myself untangled in an unusual situation.

A young lady in a full burkha was crossing the street at the same time as me and she nearly fell twice in the wind and was struggling to stand still with the flood-waters. Given the number of potholes in S.V. Road, there was a lot of hidden and lurking danger. As I moved ahead, I noticed that she needed help but I wouldn't dare to volunteer, given my fear of getting lynched by her religious co-practitioners. But she grabbed my arm, albeit with hesitation and apologies, and we crossed the Brahmaputra-like conditions in suburban Bombay.

As I was telling her that there's no need to apologize and the wind blew her veil off and I made direct eye contact with her. The burkha hid a beautiful and pale face and ocean-blue eyes. It was a strange moment when we made such strong eye-contact. She covered her face as we reached the other side and she said goodbye with a thank you. Something tells me that the beautiful face is covered out of compulsion from home. How sad!

Bombay's Fat Cats

All sorts of studies and reports have indicated that India will soon be the diabetes capital of the world. In this, I think Bombay is going to be a torch-bearer.

Just try a visit to any middle-class locality and you’ll see more people with big stomachs than those without. While shopping for groceries this morning, I was startled to find myself the most fit-looking guy in the supermarket. I peeped into their shopping carts and what I saw was an excess of cokes and potato chips and chocolates. Now add that to a diet of fried foods, and parathas laced with ghee and extra servings of rice with fattening curries and papads and pickles. Combine this with the fact that most Middle Class people have no time for any kind of meaningful exercise except for a slow paced walk in the morning and you have your answer as to why this country is becoming a coronary artery disease and diabetes hub!

Let’s face it: this city is not conducive to fitness. It’s tough to run on the streets, without breathing in toxic fumes from vehicles, the pot-holed filled roads and sidewalks are another problem. The sea is just too polluted to swim in and most of the pools in the city are not cleaned regularly. That leaves people with the option of expensive gym membership or running on the few places suitable in the city, like the Worli Sea Face, Bandstand, Carter Road, Juhu Beach and Marine Drive. What happens if you’re far away from these places? Tough Luck, I guess!

But then again, we Bombayites are underdogs. We thrive under adverse conditions and take pride in overcoming the challenges of daily life in this city. So, I will continue running on Juhu Beach, dodging cricket balls, the hordes of humanity around the Ramada, the tides and of course, the heat. If fitness was easy, I guess I wouldn’t value it that much.

Yeh Hai Mumbai Meri Jaan

I haven't seen any other place with so much 'in your face' poverty. Millions go to bed hungry each and every night in this city.

A couple of days ago, a friend and I were going to have a sunset drink at AER, a fancy rooftop bar 34 floors above the ground at the Four Seasons in Worli. My friend had a sandwich she wanted to give away to a beggar and as soon we rolled down the glass and called a young boy of 8 or 9, he dashed towards us to take the sandwich, which probably would have been his only meal of the day.

At AER, expats and rich Indians were enjoying the sea breeze and great views by paying Rs 500 for a beer! Enough has been written about the gaps between the haves and have-nots, so I won't get into that.
But what irked the living daylights out of me was an article in the Hindustan Times this morning about a dog whisperer training program.

http://www.hindustantimes.com/india-news/mumbai/Sudden-change-in-pet-s-behaviour-Learn-to-become-a-dog-whisperer/Article1-702463.aspx

It costs Rs 13,000 for the course, which helps dog-owners understand the behaviour of their canines. I am just amused that people might actually be ready to pay that kind of money for something as trivial as this when millions go to bed hungry!

No 1 person can solve the poverty issues in Bombay or India by himself or herself but wouldn't Rs 13,000 go a long way in helping several starving families?

Andheri (West)- A solution from Yogananda

When my parents bought the cosy apartment I live in, Andheri (West) was a peaceful suburb far away from the maddening crowds of southern and central Bombay.

In 2011, the area from the railway station to Navrang Cinema is among the most chaotic you will find anywhere in the world. Hawkers, vendors, 3-wheelers bikes, hordes of humanity and stray dogs all tussle for space in the midst of the metro construction work, which like any project in India is behind schedule.

It's impossible to walk from my building to the station without getting my nerves tested in some way;  a speeding 3-wheeler, someone spitting paan on the roads, piles of garbage, the regularly-broken sewer lines. But then I have 3 choices: put up with it, fight it or move the hell away from the locality.

But this is India, a country with a great history and tradition of spiritual and self-realized human beings. One such person was Paramahansa Yogananda. His words are an answer for my neuroticism and hopelessness in anger management.

"Do not take life's experiences too seriously. Above all, do not let them hurt you, for in reality, they are nothing but dream experiences...If circumstances are bad and you have to bear them, do not make them a part of yourself.

Play your part in life, but do not forget it is only a role. What you lose in the world will not be a loss to your soul."

He goes on to say "Trust in God and destroy fear, which paralyses all efforts to succeed and attracts the very thing you fear."

Celebrating the 150th birth anniversary of Rabindranath Tagore

I am privileged to be part of the wonderful celebrations being conducted by the Bhavan's Cultural Centre, Andheri to mark the 150th birth anniversary of Rabindranath Tagore. The celebrations kicked off yesterday with a panel discussion on Tagore's contribution to humankind. What touched me was the wonderful speeches by a couple of Bengali professors from Bhavan's in Calcutta, who reminded the audience in the other coast of the country that Tagore did not just belong to West Bengal but to all of humanity.

In a similar vein, Tagore said "Patriotism cannot be our final spiritual shelter; my refuge is humanity. I will not buy glass for the price of diamonds, and I will never allow patriotism to triumph over humanity as long as I live. "

Tagore taught us to embrace all the good things the rest of the world had to offer and while accepting his Nobel price, he told the audience that it was very much a part of Indianness to accept and embrace other cultures.

The event yesterday was unnecessarily delayed because his highness, the vice-chancellor of the University of Mumbai was 1-hour late!! It was ironic that he spoke about freedom of expression and some of the values that Tagore propogated when the VC himself banned Rohington Mistry's "Such a Long Journey" because the latest generation Shiv Sena brat demanded it on flimsy grounds.  The VC said students should read less books and spend more time outdooors, so I guess he banned the book because he wanted the students to be outdoors!!

The organisers also screened a wonderful documentary on Tagore, made the great Satyajit Ray. The restored version will be re-released by the prime minister today. The evening was capped off with a screening of Uphaar, a movie based on one of Tagore's short stories. The film, which was primarily screened in Kerala, stared Jaya Bachchan and I have to say that it was in my opinion her finest performance.

The celebrations continue both on Saturday and Sunday with a musical and cultural extravaganza. It's wonderful to learn so much more about a man, who contributed so much to literature, art, music and India's freedom struggle.

I end this post by quoting the great man.

"Where the mind is without fear



and the head is held high,


where knowledge is free.


Where the world has not been broken up into fragments by narrow domestic walls.


Where words come out from the depth of truth,


where tireless striving stretches its arms toward perfection.


Where the clear stream of reason has not lost it's way


into the dreary desert sand of dead habit.


Where the mind is led forward by thee


into ever widening thought and action.


In to that heaven of freedom, my father,


LET MY COUNTRY AWAKE! "

Unshakeable faith

While taking an autorickshaw from Juhu to Bandra, my Swedish friend Bjorn and I had an interesting conversation with the driver, who was initially driving like a maniac. "I have been driving since 1983 and I have never hit anyone or gotten into an accident," said Ramesh, who originally hails from Pune. We told him that we didn't want to be part of the first such incident.

His reply was full of references to God. He said God creates and it's his responsibility to look after his creation. Which is why, this humble auto-rickshaw driver has a flat in a chawl (something like community housing for poorer people). He said his fear of God prevented him from ever cheating a passenger and God rewarded him by giving him enough money to educate his 2 sons. The elder one is an accountant and the younger one an engineer and both of them have their own homes and cars. Ramesh said God also rewarded him for not drinking alcohol.

It's amazing how strong and unshakeable Ramesh's faith in God is. I hope this faith will keep him happy in the future as well.

Seeing the city through an outsider’s eyes

A friend of mine from Boston once remarked about how Labernum Road in South Bombay reminded him of Berlin. A friend from New Jersey said he saw a piece of Barcelona there and a Swedish friend felt he was in Ipanima in Brazil.


I am privileged to have visitors from all over the world and when I do get sick of life in this city, I get fresh perspectives on how nice Bombay actually is.

Yes, the long set of stairs down to Banganga from Malabar Hill is really nice as you get a stunning sea view before you enter the tank area. There is an interesting spot near Banganga, which has a huge collection of cats. Again, this was something I only noticed when a visitor pointed it out to me.

In terms of variety, energy and oddly enough, pockets of sheer beauty, very few cities in the world can actually compare to Bombay. We have arguably the most beautiful railway station in the world in Victoria Terminus, amazing seaside promenades, stylish art deco, neo-gothic and heritage buildings. And yes, we also have the slums and the homeless people and the crowds.

In all fairness, it’s a tough job getting bored in this city.

Hell in Mumbai

When people talk about the worst areas of India, they bring up names like Bihar, Uttar Pradesh and Orissa but after yesterday I can safely say that nothing on earth compares to the hell hole called Dharavi. Over a million and a half people are crammed into living conditions that would be deemed unfit for animal inhabitation in any country.

The people who live in Dharavi recycle most of the city's cardboard, plastic and glass waste. This is just about enough to feed themselves and put children in an English-medium school but the filth and squalor can make anyone sick.

It's understandable that people are completely against getting photographed and filmed. There are enough creeps indulging in poverty porn a la Slumdog Millionaire, who profit from the misery of Dharavi's masses.

What I saw disturbed me in a way that very few things actually could. Seeing babies crawling on garbage heaps, children fighting over territorial rights and the general air of misery. The Indian Government has failed its own people in more ways that can be counted.

Before I finish this rant, I have to mention something that disturbed me the most. A so-called social activist was being interviewed by a foreign journalist. He was talking about human rights and dignity and all the usual non-sense that he didn't believe in. How would I know? Just 30 feet away, two men in their 20s were harassing an 8 or 9 year-old boy. They dangled the child over a bridge overlooking a water pipeline, threw his slippers into the garbage and then stripped him and then pocketed a few coins from his shirt. All this in full view of this lawyer and human-rights activist.

I told a policeman on the bridge about the incident and he told me in Marathi to just do my sightseeing and go back to my comfortable home.

This one is for the Shiv Sena

Dear Balasaheb, Udhav-ji and Aditya-ji,

Look at this open act of defiance! This isn't a sign in some elitist neighbourhood, but in the bastion of your recent success. The university in Kalina.

Come on guys, have that sign changed or deface it or better yet, threaten the vice-chancellor and make him remove such facetious and sacrilegious signs!   

The Sun stopped Shining

I am in shock to hear that my mentor Dr Leena Sen passed away this week. It took a lot of strength for me to not break down when I called her house and spoke to her son.

This post is as much about me as is it about Mrs Sen. I met ma'am in 1996 when I was a first year Bachelor of Commerce student at Narsee Monjee College of Commerce and Economics in Vile-Parle. She wasn't my Business Communication professor but I approached her as she was the professor in charge of the English Literary Association. I presented her an essay on 'Secularism in India' that I wanted to enter in a national competition. She ripped apart the 3000-word essay with remarks in red ink on every single page.

At 18, I could hardly write and the biggest book I had read at that point was an abridged version of Tom Sawyer. Over the next three years, Ma'am worked hard to turn me into a good writer. It was process that started with me reading the books of V.S. Naipaul and Salman Rushdie. Naipaul was her favourite writer and soon became mine as well.

I won the English essay competition at the University of Mumbai's youth festival and several prizes at national level competitions and my college rewarded me with the Best Writer Trophy two years in a row.

Thanks to her training and encouragement, I developed a love for literature. Books are an essential part of my life now and I am a much more knowledgeable human being.  Since I graduated from college, I went on to write a travel guidebook and continue to work as an international journalist for more than 8 years. Ma'am was indeed proud of my achievements and sense of adventure but I am sure she was prouder of the fact that I stuck to my ethics all these years.

I don't think I expressed enough gratitude to her for teaching me how to write and how to appreciate literature and poetry. I sat for her English poetry lectures in college, even though I didn't take English literature as a subject. Those were the most enlightening lessons that I ever had. She brought the magic poems of Keats and T.S. Elliot to life and helped us understand a lot more than just the text.

She definitely had the carrot and stick approach when dealing with me. I was an "idiot" for not recognising Sardar Patel on a billboard and I was once "banned" from being the public relations officer of the literary association as I didn't notice someone writing 'it's' instead of 'its' in a letter. I was also reprimanded for writing 'yours sincerely' instead of 'yours faithfully.' These are precisely the things that made a better writer and frankly a better educated person.  My pet peeve for insistence on correct grammar and proper usage of the English language developed when I was under her training.

Dr Sen was my coach, my guide and my inspiration. I owe my career as a journalist/writer to her. There will be greater success in my life ma'am. When we do meet again, I am sure that you will be proud of all that I managed to achieve.

Thank You for Everything.