Drops of life

“It is life, I think, to watch the water. A man can learn so many things.”
― Nicholas Sparks

There's no water. The overhead tanks were being repaired. By the end of the day even the lone bucketful was depleted and only a couple of jugs could be filled. The jugs became a symbol of all that a daily routine, and life, represents. I became suddenly aware of even drops being wasted.

Strangely, I also became conscious of sweat. In this humidity there can be embarrassing perspiration. However, I'd let the beads of sweat remain on skin; it's as though they were replacing water.

Bath was a towel dipped in water to clean up, followed by lots of wet wipes. If you can't have bread...; the awareness of being elite comes soft-footed. It comes as bottled water and as images that make you cringe, even if momentarily, about the many who walk miles to get just one bucket, about those who have to pull and tug into wells, who have to wait before water taps in a queue, who collect water near rivers where flotsam coats the liquid, who bathe in any collected pool of muddy water, who sometimes die because their thirst was unquenched.

These are images for us. For them, it is life.

What the Dickens

 Should an unfinished novel by a writer whose works have a special stamp be completed and adapted for the stage? How can anyone complete Charles Dickens’ novel? It is an adaptation for the stage, but will it then go without an ending?

Between now and 140 years ago when he died, people have apparently been curious as to how “half the psychological thriller” he wrote might have ended. In this time, I doubt if it was curiosity that killed those that passed on. Besides, on what basis is it assumed that The Mystery Of Edwin Drood was half finished? At 23 chapters, it might have been almost towards the end, or maybe it was intended for the long haul and had only just warmed up, slowly.

BBC Two has entrusted the drama to Gwyneth Hughes. She said: “The tragedy of the erotically obsessed cathedral choirmaster, John Jasper, throbs with sexual menace, murder and opium addiction. But alongside his story runs a brilliant small-town social comedy which is often laugh-out-loud funny. After all, this is Dickens, the great emotional extremist, and master of the rollercoaster ride. It’s just the most enormous fun.”

Jasper falls in love with his nephew Drood’s 17-year-old betrothed, Rosa Bud. A small portion from the last written chapter may give some peek into the story:

That he must know of Rosa's abrupt departure, and that he must divine its cause, was not to be doubted. Did he suppose that he had terrified her into silence? or did he suppose that she had imparted to any one - to Mr. Crisparkle himself, for instance - the 
particulars of his last interview with her? Mr. Crisparkle could not determine this in his mind. He could not but admit, however, as a just man, that it was not, of itself, a crime to fall in love with Rosa, any more than it was a crime to offer to set love above revenge.

As subjects go, this is as relevant today. Emotions are not dinosaurs, although there can be half-finished emotions that remain on the cusp and wait to be realised. While Hughes is not working on the novel, the act of giving it a finale when there was none is a bit disconcerting. It is like adding icing to a half-baked cake. Theatrically, even a chapter can be staged, but one would be aware of the work in its entirety.

Would this qualify as an adaptation of Dickens? Then, on what basis is the end assumed? We are talking not only about one form as opposed to another but also about one writing against another. We are not talking about assembly-line Mills & Boon or, for that matter, the James Bond franchise. When I see a film based on a Jane Austen novel or watch a play by Tennessee Williams, it is the authorial voice that comes through. Despite several innovative interpretations of Shakespeare, the core of the bard seeps through the props, the characters and the sheer power of language, however much it might be ‘simplified’, or indeed made pretentiously complex.

Dickens had said all those years ago: “The whole difference between construction and creation is exactly this: that a thing constructed can only be loved after it is constructed; but a thing created is loved before it exists.”

This is a cogent thought and might well apply to the current situation. However, I’d like to examine the two terms outside the context. The BBC is in the business of construction (rather peculiarly it has described the work as “a strange, disturbing and modern tale about drugs, stalking and darkness visible”). The raw material is there, but the blueprint is not unfinished. It builds the skeleton of a structure, start piling on the bricks and mortar, adds the plumbing, the wires, but the last few floors – let us assume the penthouse or boutique apartments – have no design. Being in the construction business it will follow the module of the lower floors. Or will it experiment and give them a special touch? Can one architect replicate another’s unspelt-out ideas?

When Dickens talks about love for the creation before, it is as conceiver. The creative process is ongoing and the creation itself grows over a period of time. Does the love for it and of it alter too? Does the pre-emptive love negate the very creativity, in that it falters? Is it weighed down by the fact of how the constructed work will ensure love?

With some writers, the love is in the lines. And that includes the fine lines on the face of a work. It is completion.

Dogs allowed, but not Muslims

"At around 9.30, I was told that some locals had a problem with me being a Muslim. I was categorically asked to hand over the keys so that my belongings could be shifted out immediately. I was told that I shouldn't enter the building again or I would be hurt."

Majid Khan and his wife Gayatri had signed an agreement, gone through police verification and shifted their belongings to enter their new rented home on May 1.

The owner Jyoti Rege told Mumbai Mirror, that ran the story, he did not want to rent his flat out anymore.

V Ramnathan, the chairman of the building, Venkatesh Sadan at Chembur, said, “We were warned that no Muslims should live here. In any case, all the flat-owners here have decided not to allow him (Majid).”

The estate agent who brokered the deal confirmed that the owner had no option but to back out. He and Rege will compensate Majid Khan with Rs. 21,000 for the expenses incurred to shift his belongings, apart from returning the rent and deposit amount.

This is, of course, not the first case. Here, even though the wife is a Hindu there was a problem. It is the sheer temerity with which they are keeping Muslims out that is worrying. These are local citizens. The cops had cleared Majid, a businessman.

I only hope he files a case against the building authorities, the owner and the residents. No one can renege on an agreement just like that, that too at the last minute. There is also the threat angle. If some locals had pressurised the building society members, then the members have to identify those goons.

If none of these actions are taken, then the cops who gave Majid the clean chit need to be dragged to court as well.

Will Majid Khan do this? Is it worth the time and money? The residents do not even know the couple; it is not as though they had created any trouble. There is no tangible reason. This is clearly a case of discrimination based on religion.

The owner pleads helplessness; the society members will do the same. The ruffians will be blamed and since no one will recognise them, the case will be shut. All the Majid Khans in this super cosmopolitan city will be left to look for a nook that has only ‘their’ people although they do not think in this narrow manner.

I am sickened that few feel any anger about such situations anymore.

Iconic abodes and dogs

After 26/11, the government of Maharashtra set up a committee to study the safety and security of iconic buildings.

To design a foolproof security system, three layers of security were considered. The first layer deals with protecting the perimeter of the building. The second is entrance control, concerning entry and exit points and the third layer is internal security of the building.

What about non-iconic buildings that fall like a pack of cards? They don’t have gunfire smoke coming out, just people making a quick buck. You won’t hear exposes about cement scandals here.

How about some security for senior citizens and vulnerable children? How about it for slums that are bulldozed? How about it for women who work night shifts? How about it for crowded local trains?

These are the icons of Mumbai.



Is he, the red-collared one, a Mumbai icon? Not in normal times. He is pretty much another stray who might have been put to sleep after being dragged in a municipal van. It just so happens that he has a tale of bravery simply because he was at the wrong place at the right time, “the night Ajmal Kasab and Abu Ismail came calling there”. No kidding. This is how the TOI reported it.

I do not dislike animals, especially not four-legged ones.

Sheroo survived the 26/11 attack at CST station. This is not his name. He did not have a name. Here is what they say about him:

It was the BSPCA staff who named the canine ‘Sheroo (lion), impressed by his steely will to survive that helped him pull through.

Several dog lovers come to visit him, eager to meet the ‘survivor’ and many leave behind contributions for his upkeep, but the BSPCA has decided to take care of him for life.

Sheroo does get a little anxious in the company of strangers or on hearing a loud noise.

This is pretty much sensitive dog behaviour. Of course, next time I hear a yelping sound I the dead of night, I must think about some dog who has gone through terrorist trauma.