The heat can make you tremendously sleepy! The heat, added to the cradle-like rocking of the subway, is just the setting for a nap amidst all of New York’s crowd. Just when my eyes were shutting down, a lean girl with a broad smile asked me if I was from the Journalism School, Columbia University. Sleepily, I said yes. Just to be polite I reciprocated by asking her the same question. She jumped and said that she was studying at the Sociology School, Columbia University. Her energy on that hot, fatigued afternoon amazed me.
She went on. She spoke a bit about where she lived. I half listened, and half slept. But, then something caught my attention. She said she was from Palestine. I sat up, attentive. I had met people from Israel and from Jerusalem. But had met no one who claimed they were from Palestine. Because, on the international map, there is no Palestine anymore.
I looked at her closely for the first time. She had a long face, pointed chin and deep-set brown eyes. She didn’t look typically Arab. When asked about it, she explained, she had Dutch ancestry.
We spent quite-an-hour discussing the troubled geo politics of the Middle East. I asked her what the Middle East looked like before 1948 (that was the year when Israel was formed and all the ‘Jewish lands’ were assimilated into one country). She started fiddling with the gold chain that was around her neck and held up a gold pendant. That, she said unemotionally, was how Middle East looked before 1948. The map included what is now Israel, Palestine, Gaza Strip and West Bank.
That was a very powerful moment. People wear pendants of their names, their loved ones or something as impersonal as a butterfly or a rose. She felt such deep affection for her country, she held it as close to her as possible.
Then she passionately scribbled a map of how the Middle East looks now on a piece of paper. She said that would help me better understand it.
She said that she has to go through a check post for almost everything in her country – a mall, a store, a library. She also gave a graphic account of how there are ghettos and segregation – there are Arab buses and Israeli buses in the same towns, Arab schools and Israeli schools and of course, separate neighbourhoods.
She told me she was working with children’s theatre in Jerusalem for two years. Her family is in a small village of Palestine. They speak Dutch and Arabic at home. And, that her sister is a law student.
Then it suddenly struck me, that I knew everything about her but her name! The conversation was so engaging that I forgot to ask Dina Zbidat her name and even she forgot to tell me!
Made me wonder how her nationality was more of her identity than her own name! Made me wonder how we take our nationality for granted. Made me wonder how it becomes so important to ‘belong’ somewhere.
For the first time, Shakespeare made absolute sense to me when he said ‘what is in a name’.
Raksha Kumar
Monday, August 30, 2010
Sunday, August 29, 2010
An Author In Transition
Shifting his weight from one foot to the other, he speaks to me on the subway platform in NYC. Muhammad Bilal Lakhani is not tense or anxious about anything it is just the way he is all the time – restless, energetic. That is perhaps why Bilal became a published author at age 19. Bilal is now a 23-year-old graduate student at the Journalism School, Columbia University.
Bilal’s first book, his only book, is titled ‘Real life lessons from the Holy Quran for the 21st Century Muslim’. He finished writing this book when he was 17 years old. “The book was meant for me, as a handbook. So that I didn’t make the mistakes I had made before,” he says. But, how many mistakes could a 17-year-old have made anyway! Later, Bilal went ahead and decided to share his book with others.
However, getting a book published on religion by a young, non-established writer was, in his own words, “a fight”. He persistently got back to the publisher for two years and finally managed to see his thoughts in print in 2006.
With a mischievous smile on his face, Bilal says he doesn’t put into practice much of what he had written back then in his life now. “The tough part is following what is in the book, not writing it,” he says.
The book has a contract that one signs with oneself and pledges to God that he will follow the ‘righteous’ path. When asked about the contract, Bilal laughs and explains that while some in his family still find it practical and enjoyable, others think it is immature.
Bilal himself thinks that the book is an immature attempt. “However”, speaking in a mild voice, he says, “it is an important part of who I am. There is still a conflict, an identity crisis.” Thus, he gave the book to his fiancé when he first met her.
Bilal’s granduncle reads a page from this book every night before he goes to bed. ‘I am learning something about religion from my grandnephew’, he once said to Bilal. Bilal says that this was the most touching thing he had heard about his book. Bilal’s emotions and gratitude are hidden below his beard covered face, but his eyes say it all.
Bilal’s home country is Pakistan. He plans to write a second book back there, which will not be limited to religion but will take a broader look at life.
This young writer in transition is perhaps voicing the conflict and crisis that most young Muslim men face in this rapidly changing world.
Raksha Kumar
Bilal’s first book, his only book, is titled ‘Real life lessons from the Holy Quran for the 21st Century Muslim’. He finished writing this book when he was 17 years old. “The book was meant for me, as a handbook. So that I didn’t make the mistakes I had made before,” he says. But, how many mistakes could a 17-year-old have made anyway! Later, Bilal went ahead and decided to share his book with others.
However, getting a book published on religion by a young, non-established writer was, in his own words, “a fight”. He persistently got back to the publisher for two years and finally managed to see his thoughts in print in 2006.
With a mischievous smile on his face, Bilal says he doesn’t put into practice much of what he had written back then in his life now. “The tough part is following what is in the book, not writing it,” he says.
The book has a contract that one signs with oneself and pledges to God that he will follow the ‘righteous’ path. When asked about the contract, Bilal laughs and explains that while some in his family still find it practical and enjoyable, others think it is immature.
Bilal himself thinks that the book is an immature attempt. “However”, speaking in a mild voice, he says, “it is an important part of who I am. There is still a conflict, an identity crisis.” Thus, he gave the book to his fiancé when he first met her.
Bilal’s granduncle reads a page from this book every night before he goes to bed. ‘I am learning something about religion from my grandnephew’, he once said to Bilal. Bilal says that this was the most touching thing he had heard about his book. Bilal’s emotions and gratitude are hidden below his beard covered face, but his eyes say it all.
Bilal’s home country is Pakistan. He plans to write a second book back there, which will not be limited to religion but will take a broader look at life.
This young writer in transition is perhaps voicing the conflict and crisis that most young Muslim men face in this rapidly changing world.
Raksha Kumar
Friday, August 20, 2010
A visit to a gay bar.
I know a lot of you were asking me to write about my experiences in the US, I refrained from it for a lot of reasons. Today’s experience, however, was just screaming out to be written about and shared.
For our class assignment at the J-school, Columbia University, we were to choose a place and profile it. In my zealous addiction to History and a mad drive to do something different, I decided to profile Stonewall Inn.
Stonewall Inn is a bar whose history with gay rights dates back to 1967. It is the site of Stonewall Riots, which many believe was the visible start of the gay rights movement in the US. So, my project was looking at how things have changed in these 40-odd years, if at all.
With a lot of vigour and enthusiasm about the new assignment, I stepped into Stonewall. While I was mentally prepared to see some rather explicit ‘performances’, my mind was still not communicating with my senses. I must have given a slight squeak, and my eyes must have popped open when I walked in. Being the professional that I am, I quickly regained my composure and strode in.
Once inside, I actually marvelled at the various couples sitting there - an African American man with a man from the Far East, two White women and an Asian man with two White men. And within minutes, I was feeling comfortable sitting in my cosy corner.
I began speaking to the bar tender who was a very pleasant lesbian woman. She tried her very best to find people who I could interview. But with little avail. So, I hung around hoping someone might want to face the mike. I felt it impolite to not order for a drink, so, I asked her to fetch me a beer. For the record, I hate beers! I looked at it as a professional hazard. Well, my profession seems to be quite hazardous, as I later found out! The beer cost me $6 and as tips are a must in the US, with the heaviest heart, I slipped in two one dollar bills. That is how much I would spend on one lavish meal! And remember, I still had no story. No one was willing to be interviewed yet!
In the meanwhile, a girl who was darting her eyes over me now and then, walked over to me. It got me slightly worried. I was not sure what to say, how to react. She wanted to know more about my T-shirt. I relaxed. But suddenly, she said, ‘I like the way you hold your beer’. Oh! This is what I dreaded! By the time one reaches my age, one gets used to boys hitting on you almost every day. You know how to politely reject their advances, or just tell them to back-off at times. But I had never been hit on by a woman before. I tried doing what I would do if a boy had used that rather horrible pick up line. I asked her if she would like to be interviewed. It worked! She rejected the offer and said ‘yeah, you look the kinds men would like. I am sure a lot of men fall for you’. Smiled, and left.
I was left introspecting, ashamed at my awkward behaviour.
But, as my interviewee later said, the gay and lesbian community probably need their own islands of seclusion, where they can be themselves, unhindered. I finally interviewed a man who insisted on putting his sexuality as his primary identity, over nationality. He has been visiting the Stonewall Inn for the past 23 years.
The experience that evening was a unique and a very educating one. And, I managed to get a good story! It was a true journalism experience.
Raksha Kumar
For our class assignment at the J-school, Columbia University, we were to choose a place and profile it. In my zealous addiction to History and a mad drive to do something different, I decided to profile Stonewall Inn.
Stonewall Inn is a bar whose history with gay rights dates back to 1967. It is the site of Stonewall Riots, which many believe was the visible start of the gay rights movement in the US. So, my project was looking at how things have changed in these 40-odd years, if at all.
With a lot of vigour and enthusiasm about the new assignment, I stepped into Stonewall. While I was mentally prepared to see some rather explicit ‘performances’, my mind was still not communicating with my senses. I must have given a slight squeak, and my eyes must have popped open when I walked in. Being the professional that I am, I quickly regained my composure and strode in.
Once inside, I actually marvelled at the various couples sitting there - an African American man with a man from the Far East, two White women and an Asian man with two White men. And within minutes, I was feeling comfortable sitting in my cosy corner.
I began speaking to the bar tender who was a very pleasant lesbian woman. She tried her very best to find people who I could interview. But with little avail. So, I hung around hoping someone might want to face the mike. I felt it impolite to not order for a drink, so, I asked her to fetch me a beer. For the record, I hate beers! I looked at it as a professional hazard. Well, my profession seems to be quite hazardous, as I later found out! The beer cost me $6 and as tips are a must in the US, with the heaviest heart, I slipped in two one dollar bills. That is how much I would spend on one lavish meal! And remember, I still had no story. No one was willing to be interviewed yet!
In the meanwhile, a girl who was darting her eyes over me now and then, walked over to me. It got me slightly worried. I was not sure what to say, how to react. She wanted to know more about my T-shirt. I relaxed. But suddenly, she said, ‘I like the way you hold your beer’. Oh! This is what I dreaded! By the time one reaches my age, one gets used to boys hitting on you almost every day. You know how to politely reject their advances, or just tell them to back-off at times. But I had never been hit on by a woman before. I tried doing what I would do if a boy had used that rather horrible pick up line. I asked her if she would like to be interviewed. It worked! She rejected the offer and said ‘yeah, you look the kinds men would like. I am sure a lot of men fall for you’. Smiled, and left.
I was left introspecting, ashamed at my awkward behaviour.
But, as my interviewee later said, the gay and lesbian community probably need their own islands of seclusion, where they can be themselves, unhindered. I finally interviewed a man who insisted on putting his sexuality as his primary identity, over nationality. He has been visiting the Stonewall Inn for the past 23 years.
The experience that evening was a unique and a very educating one. And, I managed to get a good story! It was a true journalism experience.
Raksha Kumar
Monday, August 16, 2010
More Than Just A Bath
We were hoping we’d get a clear day. But when has rain left England alone? England’s love story with Zeus, the Greek God of rain, is probably the most tumultuous. However, this time, a beautiful drizzle only added to the pleasure of enjoying Bath on foot. A little rain, a slight chill interspersed with an occasional warmth of the sun was the perfect setting for stories of a Roman city spa, an abbey of the medieval times and modern day architectural wonders.
Since we had ridden on a train from the smoky and noisy London, the first thing that we noticed in the quieter, fresher Bath was the jugalbandi of the blowing breeze and the singing larks. Bath is less than two hours away from London. This 18th Century town is known all over the world for two things – the great Roman bath spa and legendary laureate Jane Austen. I shall talk about both in sometime.
Our expedition, however, began by walking the length of a beautiful canal that leads up to the Bath Market. Something about Bath that is noticeable even to the blind eye is the limestone constructions. The yellow limestone is unique to Bath and practically every building is constructed with it. While one might assume that this gives a monotonous feel to the town, the varied architecture present here gives the town a face-lift.
We first walked over to see the comparatively recent architecture. The Circus and the Crescent are brilliant examples of beauty and efficient town planning. The Circus is a circular building which is built for housing purposes around a circular piece of green land. The Crescent, on the other hand, is a series of handsomely standing linear houses. It overlooks the green-yellow Avon valley. I couldn’t help wondering how magnificent and majestic it would be to live in one of these buildings and see river Avon and the Thames valley every morn.
As the water in Bath had always been known for its medicinal capacities since the medieval times, the sick from all over England thronged to Bath and it became the unofficial infirmary of the country. Therefore, it is not unusual to find, even to this day, buildings that housed the sick and ailing.
Interestingly, though, the patients who arrived in a hospital in Bath were given a small amount of money from the City Council. This money was enough to pay for their joyful journey back home when they recovered. Else, the money was used for their funerals! As, even death comes at a price!
However, there is no room for such depressing thoughts amidst some overwhelmingly beautiful nature and some incredibly romantic weather. I decided to lunch in the only building that still retains some Roman walls. A cosy vegetarian restaurant called ‘DeMuth’s –positively vegetarian’ occupies that building. A glance at their menu threw me off balance. To put it politely, it was experimental in the truest sense. To give you a peak into its menu – tomato upma with baked pinnaple! Talk about a confluence of the East and the West! Nevertheless, after a very painful lunch, I proceeded to see the Roman Bath.
This public bath was drowned after a ferocious flood hit the town in the medieval times. It was only accidentally discovered by some archaeologists in the early 19th Century which is why the Roman Bath is at a lower level than the rest of the town.
The Romans, during their attempts to occupy England stumbled upon three hot water springs in what is now Bath. Even today, a hot water bath is welcomed with open arms at any time in England. When the Romans saw a possibility of making a recreation centre of the hot water available there, I can imagine how they’d have pounced on the idea.
Gradually, the bath must have gone from being just a recreation, social centre to a place with slightly spiritual leanings. There are many well-preserved messages to Roman Goddess Minerva written on thin metal sheets. These sheets were thrown into the bath, with the belief that the Goddess would be able to pay heed to their problems. The pleas range from a request to find lost silverware to locating stolen slaves! From a betrayed lover asking for revenge to administrative injustices!! It is fascinating to read the translations of these messages that are found in the Bath museum. These give us a sense of how the human race has had similar problems all the while and will only continue to. All the talk of the race progressing or regressing begins to sound superficial.
After exiting the museum, I visited the Abbey. It is a beautiful Gothic construction, as many in England are. The abbey’s claim to fame is that the coronation of the first ‘fake’ and relatively unknown king of England was held there. It is, at the most, a wasteful piece of tit-bit.
Bath would like to take credit and make the most of Jane Austen’s name, but it turns out that she lived in the city for not more than six years and hated her time there!
After having roamed the streets of Bath to my heart’s content in the rain, we decided to make a return. Another sweet little rail ride in the Thames valley brought me to London and back to the land of the present day.
Raksha Kumar
Since we had ridden on a train from the smoky and noisy London, the first thing that we noticed in the quieter, fresher Bath was the jugalbandi of the blowing breeze and the singing larks. Bath is less than two hours away from London. This 18th Century town is known all over the world for two things – the great Roman bath spa and legendary laureate Jane Austen. I shall talk about both in sometime.
Our expedition, however, began by walking the length of a beautiful canal that leads up to the Bath Market. Something about Bath that is noticeable even to the blind eye is the limestone constructions. The yellow limestone is unique to Bath and practically every building is constructed with it. While one might assume that this gives a monotonous feel to the town, the varied architecture present here gives the town a face-lift.
We first walked over to see the comparatively recent architecture. The Circus and the Crescent are brilliant examples of beauty and efficient town planning. The Circus is a circular building which is built for housing purposes around a circular piece of green land. The Crescent, on the other hand, is a series of handsomely standing linear houses. It overlooks the green-yellow Avon valley. I couldn’t help wondering how magnificent and majestic it would be to live in one of these buildings and see river Avon and the Thames valley every morn.
As the water in Bath had always been known for its medicinal capacities since the medieval times, the sick from all over England thronged to Bath and it became the unofficial infirmary of the country. Therefore, it is not unusual to find, even to this day, buildings that housed the sick and ailing.
Interestingly, though, the patients who arrived in a hospital in Bath were given a small amount of money from the City Council. This money was enough to pay for their joyful journey back home when they recovered. Else, the money was used for their funerals! As, even death comes at a price!
However, there is no room for such depressing thoughts amidst some overwhelmingly beautiful nature and some incredibly romantic weather. I decided to lunch in the only building that still retains some Roman walls. A cosy vegetarian restaurant called ‘DeMuth’s –positively vegetarian’ occupies that building. A glance at their menu threw me off balance. To put it politely, it was experimental in the truest sense. To give you a peak into its menu – tomato upma with baked pinnaple! Talk about a confluence of the East and the West! Nevertheless, after a very painful lunch, I proceeded to see the Roman Bath.
This public bath was drowned after a ferocious flood hit the town in the medieval times. It was only accidentally discovered by some archaeologists in the early 19th Century which is why the Roman Bath is at a lower level than the rest of the town.
The Romans, during their attempts to occupy England stumbled upon three hot water springs in what is now Bath. Even today, a hot water bath is welcomed with open arms at any time in England. When the Romans saw a possibility of making a recreation centre of the hot water available there, I can imagine how they’d have pounced on the idea.
Gradually, the bath must have gone from being just a recreation, social centre to a place with slightly spiritual leanings. There are many well-preserved messages to Roman Goddess Minerva written on thin metal sheets. These sheets were thrown into the bath, with the belief that the Goddess would be able to pay heed to their problems. The pleas range from a request to find lost silverware to locating stolen slaves! From a betrayed lover asking for revenge to administrative injustices!! It is fascinating to read the translations of these messages that are found in the Bath museum. These give us a sense of how the human race has had similar problems all the while and will only continue to. All the talk of the race progressing or regressing begins to sound superficial.
After exiting the museum, I visited the Abbey. It is a beautiful Gothic construction, as many in England are. The abbey’s claim to fame is that the coronation of the first ‘fake’ and relatively unknown king of England was held there. It is, at the most, a wasteful piece of tit-bit.
Bath would like to take credit and make the most of Jane Austen’s name, but it turns out that she lived in the city for not more than six years and hated her time there!
After having roamed the streets of Bath to my heart’s content in the rain, we decided to make a return. Another sweet little rail ride in the Thames valley brought me to London and back to the land of the present day.
Raksha Kumar
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