Fueling Thoughts

After more than a decade around boats, and for earlier  living in Goa, whose only relevance here is that it happens to have a seashore, I am routinely treated as a know-all repository for anything remotely connected to ships and vessels. Of all the questions I get, the one I detest most, and about which I know virtually nothing except having seen a few lined up for scrapping at Alang, concern cruise liners. To be fair, I did predict the commercial failure of India’s first homegrown cruise ship even before its maiden voyage. Like most of my negative prognoses, that too came true. But my dislike for cruise liners has nothing to do with ships. It has everything to do with the people asking the questions. The questions are never about ships, routes, costs or even seasickness. The most common one is - whether it is true that one can avail of intimate services on board, in massage parlours and saunas, the “happy ending” kind, while their families lounge on deck and pose for photos. Why g...

North East India has long been conflict-ridden. First came fights among tribes, then tribals versus non-tribals, then tribals and non-tribals against invaders, followed by cries for independence, protests against discrimination, and so on. It was this way before the British arrived, it remained so after they left, and it continued unchanged as part of India. The 70s and 80s saw mass  insurgency, agitations, and political unrest. And yet, if there was one man who was the undisputed and omnipresent aspirational icon across the region, it was Bruce Lee. My generation grew up under his stern, steely, daring, all-seeing eyes. He was everywhere, staring down from posters on the walls of  bedrooms, roadside eateries, garages, and barbershops. Fights in ticket queues outside theatres screening his movies put those in the films to shame. With much of the population having Mongoloid features, teenagers and young men imitated his look and strut, sporting the Lee-cut hairstyle that resemb...

 Let’s face it, people may watch a random film without relating to anyone in it, but not TV serials. Hence, the ever-suffering strong woman with a heart of gold in soaps, tailor-made for a predominantly female audience. For me, since school, it was Mr. Spock. Tall, fit, logical, cool vampire ears, a deadly shoulder grab, and zero interest in women, basically everything I wasn’t, except the last part. Most girls around me seemed to think I was just as alien anyway. With "The Next Generation", Spock became Picard, still logical, aloof, single, but more human. His interest in women? Strictly intellectual equals. My loyalty shifted accordingly. Fast-forward a decade. I was at my parents’ place when an early morning call woke me. An acquaintance, an aspiring politician from a neighbouring state, with a request. Not the kind anyone wants to hear first thing in the morning, and one most would refuse right away. By then I had already hit rock bottom in Goa, the second or third time i...