"A Hazar Anna Hazares" revisited : The Aam Aadmi Effect

The Anna Hazare Blog was originally written in 2011.. when a whole lot of activists, yogic tantriks, disgruntled civic servants and politicians and a whole lot of people got on to support a seemingly senile yet principled person. However now, two years later, Arvind Kejriwals Aam Aadmi Party ( The Common mans party or Mango (English for Aam ) Peoples Party :-) has just created history. Before the elections, Anna Hazare tried as much as possible to distance himself from Arvind Kejriwal claiming all sorts of malpractices committed by Kejriwal. Ex Delhi Policewoman, distanced herself too. The Yogi of course ran away much earlier, disguised as a woman, thankfully never to be let onto the stage of the AAP.

In a complete reversal of the sentiments written in the earlier Blog, today Anna Hazare seems senile. Pathetically trying to run and clumsily clamber onto a missed bus. Tripping and falling in many peoples reverence for this Gandhian who seemed to want change, but not the power. Now that the Bus has moved out of the park, he seems to clamour for credit.

He tried to puncture the bus halfway through the critical phase of polling, and yet the AAM Bus moved on.

As I read through my earlier Blog (quoted below), I too realize how wrong I was then.

One character in that Blog turned out to be the real hero and the real Hero in that blog turned out to be the joker. Will he be the villain of this story now?

I admit that I was wrong then and I have become a fan of Arvind Kejriwal over the last few months.

Will he be able to control the masses and the asses who want to board his bus?

A debate is on right now on NDTV with Nidhi Razdan trying to eke out controversy over Prashant Bhushans rider to the BJP.. while a ticker tape news bulletin reads that Anna Hazare has gone on his nth Fast unto death … Coinciding with the AAP Bus departure, seems he has decided to board at any cost!!

The memory of a million Gandhi topis(hats) inscribed "I am Anna" have not so mysteriously become "I am Aam Aadmi" cementing a certain but positive shift in the  movement.

Am I too an Aam Aadmi?

The 2011 Blog :

I often wonder how many of us had heard of Anna Hazare over 6 months ago? ( I can of course practically see those intellects stand up, saying that they knew of this Gandhian from Ralegan Siddhi - in typical 'Silencer' ( the fourth and only idiot in the now famous Three Idiots) fashion!! Well I hadn't heard of him. The first mental visual when I heard the name, was that of a blonde spouse of a Cricketing hero. This is typical of the current mental state I am in. I've been trying to practice thinking 'out of the box', that the thought process starts with the most bizarre, furthest out of the box thoughts. Others laugh. I've got used to me. Thus, once convinced that Anna Hazare was indeed a Gandhian, following principles of Non-violence, making a serious effort to fight corruption, my mindset about the person changed. only to be rudely shaken back, into a box, when lo-and-behold, there stood alongside him, the usual suspects - politicos in orange garbs, tantrics wielding political microphonic megaphones, and of course with some brilliant actors too. ( I refer not to the presence of Aamir Khan, whom I genuinely admire, but to the theatrical skills of former employees of TATA Steel and the Indian Police Force, respectively (without respect!) The antics and drama, brought to the forefront of a genuine fight against corruption, have made this make Anna or Team Anna look terribly monologued! They look like the "Lagaan" cricket team at practice. All running like headless chicken! Making mockery of a genuine Indian concern! A Billion people, plagued by corruption, yet living with it in as though in a marriage (An Indian Marriage at that!! No morally acceptable separation)! I read this in a friends comment on the same subject. You realise that a vast majority of us who have just heard of Anna Hazare, feel some sort of empathy. Millions of us. Yet we seem impotent in being able to effectively do something about it. The standard rhetoric is - If you want to do something about It then cast your vote! Or Join Politics. UGH. Well, until we start Overseas NRI voting for the first option. The second option - not an easy one for many of us who don't play games! The first one is a one time option for a full term and thus makes no sense! It would take a tremendous effort to make any change during the tenure. And that's where the problem with our democracy lies. The incumbent politician rakes in the most he can till the next election. The Hazar Hazares will scream and shout, go on hunger strikes. Can they make a difference? Will they be able to reduce corruption? Or are they going to replace an entrenched corrupt system with another one? The more one sees the hanger ons and the dramatists alongside, the less the Hazar Hazares will be seen behind the real Hazare. 

Nairobi, Enjoying the wonderful climate ...from Indoors!! October, 17th, Wednesday, 2011

Why …Why is it so difficult to say Goodbye

Tata - Madiba - Nelson Mandela

How does someone whom you have never met,
Someone you don't even know
Affect your life in a manner so different
No Pomp No Glamour No Drama
Yet a story so deep so touching
As though a family member

Madiba, we thank you for showing the way
to lead with conviction, without a war
but a battle so strong that
Far away brutal supremacies
bowed down and join now
to revere your humble, simple yet
powerful personality

We celebrate your life
now that you have gone
we knew you not
we touched you not
yet why why why
is it so difficult to say goodbye.

I honestly don't know in what way I can say that Nelson Mandela has affected my life. But I do know that like an aura,, a dream.. the smile in his eyes, the wrinkles on his face… seemed to always speak to me. Remind me of a person, who was so much like our very own Gandhi and yet lived his life in front of us, Real and Present. Having led South Africa to freedom from Apartheid, freed the anger of a brutal regime and soothed the hurt, and moving South Africa forward seeking solace rather than revenge… His voice choked my chest and continues to bring tears to my eyes, while we celebrate with South Africans.. lilting chanting music in the background… in true South African manner

Thank you Madiba, Tata, Nelson Mandela..
Without knowing me, you have made me try to be a better person!
Ram Mohan
5th December 2013

A Tale of Two Movies - Chennai Express & Bhaag Milkha Bhaag

Honestly dont know if I should take the train home or just simply run away from all reality!

Just landed in India, and thought of a novel manner to tackle 'jetlag'.  Why not 'fatigue' the jet lag away by watching two new Indian movies... in two days! And thanks to the absence of a theatre (cinema hall) back home, where we live, in The Gambia, it seemed a novel way to un-lag ourselves.

The top two reviews we had been following were for the ShahRukh south India based film, 'Chennai Express' and for the epic biopic of Milkha Singh, brought to life by one of my all time favorites, Farhan Akhtar.

Going by reviews and friendly internet banter, we decided to go for Chennai Express first. We humorously decided to leave our brains behind!

The following day we went for the more serious film, Bhaag Milkha Bhaag (Run Milkha Run), prepared for a mentally challenging and motivating evening, we loaded our brains, and handkerchiefs too. 

The emotions we went through after each of these films that weremade in styles diametrically opposed, were equally and contrastingly different.

I actually came out of Mayajaal, where we watched Chennai Express, after a few hours that whizzed past us louder and faster than the train itself, filled with snippets of colourul, loud dialogues, music and over-dramatic fights, surprisingly, in a cheerful mood and a smile. (This, despite the reluctant and un removable chewing gum some kid had left on my seat - for which I had to hop into the store below and buy a new shirt). The songs and dances were entertaining. The Tamil dialogues, the characters that spewed Tamilness, the Hyderabadi Tamil spoken by the beautiful heroine, the sometimes silly and sometimes old 'sic' jokes, the sometimes predictable ShahRukh laughter and dialogue, the "ketchup overflowing" fight scenes, echoing with standard Martina Navratilovaish grunts, all seemed to vanish into thin air once I steppd oout of the theatre and the sheer beauty of the locales, the heroines dimples and the happy ending was all I could remember after the movie. I was actually smiling. I still Am. 

The next day, The next movie mission.  We managed to get tickets at the Skywalk place in Aminjikarai, some 25 gruelling kilometers from home. Yet, determination to watch this most highly rated film , egged us on!! The theatre was better, seats more comfortable, and we sat back, loaded with popcorn, all set for a good film.

We could have shot ourselves!

The Anti climax was quite perverse.  Expecting the high standards of acting, production and direction that we know Farhan Akhtar to deliver with seemingly little effort, I felt stumped! Cheated by the DRS system! We had our brains along. We were trying to analyse what hit us. Did the Director forget his brains too?  I may sound too critical. But it was a let down. First impressions : Long. Too Long.... .. Toooo LONG..   .. and excruciatingly repetitive. Dragging. The storyline though, did seem quite good and innovative. I didn't know much about Milkha Singh except of his fourth place in the Rome Olympics.  I guess I learned a lot about him from the film.  The synopsis of the film was great. Moving the film story,  from a sporting loss and invisible disgrace after the Rome Olympics,  to an exciting  Indo-Pak contest, with a happy ending.

The film should have been just as long as the synopsis.  An exageration of his childhood misdemeanors, the repetitive stealing of coal, rubber ball messaging services, to ultra gory scenes of his past, over explicit sound clips of his sisters nocturnal plight, long drawn description of his overseas love affair with a phirang, ....then those nice but similar 4,5 or 6 repetitive bhangra laced songs, then the first icing ... slap, slap, ..slap and slap again.. .. and just when you thought those agonizing slaps were over...two or three more slap, slap slaps...those self inflictied slaps to exhibit his regret at missing training, and then ... the cherry on the icing - the milking of Milkhas sweat,  repeated twice in sweaty steamy detail... kind of left us with a feeling that the Director had lost the plot!! The film then shockingly dropped the very raison d'être Milkha transformed from a troubled, delinquent, revenge seeker to the 'motivated-to-become-honest' army man - His Love. The Object of his determination. The Heroine - Sonam Kapoor...The Director just lets her disappear. You do imagine that the successful athelete rides back to Pakistan to look for her... and its a single dialogue - his friend says shes gone. and while Milkha sobs a good half an hour (tears this time and saliva) to bring the gory flashback of his fathers death, ... the movie is as good as over. A good editor could have easily have trimmed this marathon epic into a 90 minute award winning biopic. Instead, we left the Cinema hall wanting to run away. Bhaag Raam Bhaag was all I could think about in the aftermath.

Go watch Chennai Express expecting nothing.  I feel for Non Tamil speaking Indian bretheren who will have to try and read English subtitles at Chennai express speed.  This may be one reason for poor reviews for Chennai Express from Non Tamil Speaking critics. The Tamil speaking critics may criticize Deepikas Hyderabadi accent, but I thought that was a deliberate and genuine twist. The producers may however have to include Bhojpuri, Gujarathi, Hindi, Malayalam, BEngali and Tamil subtitles too for this movie to have cross cultural appeal all over India.

Bhaag Milkha Bhaag may need a better editor. I'd beg them to add a few more scenes for Sonam Kapoor. Id advise BMB (Luckily they didnt name the film Bhaag Oh Milkha Bhaag ( the acronym may have ben apt though) viewers who are ardent fans of Farhan Akhtar, to watch the film while cooking a four course Indian meal, without using the remote control. An hour of cooking during the movie may help you retain your admiration for Farhan Akhtar.

Brazil Blog #1 : A is for "a Caipirinha", B is for .....

Authors(Bloggers) Note : Misconception Number 1 : Brazilians may be fun loving ,love wild music, and dress provocatingly...but in real life,  they are not flirtatious, frivolous as my blog or their clothing may indicate. The clothing is a partly due to the climate and also due to simplicity. There is a very strong family bonding here. Family time is Prime time. 

Now to the Blog

What's it with Brazil?

I've just been here for 72 hours and I'm already feeling like an introvert... I sit in my room or at the Hotel pool bar, with a hesitant fear to go out or lift my head. While they do say its a little dangerous out there, I  unequivocally can say that it's terribly dangerous out there. 

And I am NOT referring to street crime here. I'm frightened at becoming weak... of losing self control... of becoming bold..  of becoming another one of those typical Indian male, traveling single, business tourists.. to yield to temptation - temptation that seems to flirtatiously float around in dangerously close proximity.

This is a really wicked place.. I feel like Adam.. and I'm sitting in my room..only to prevent our future humankind from paying for sins that I dont want to commit!!

But before you think Im going into the usual rhetoric about bold, buxom, brazen Brazilian women in Fortaleza, I shall fearlessly say, that this isn't a blog about male lust, or about weaknesses. It is more about a drink, a potion of sorts that has given me the courage to step out into the streets of Fortaleza.

Today,  am also writing to bring a little truthful reality to common misconceptions about Brazil, especially those brought about by silly blogs and bloggers like me.. ..Indian businessmen on a business trip, ogling, flirting, wandering and wishing they had brought their sunglasses to enable them to sneak those furtive glances at the exposure, without exposing themselves!

On day #One, you inherit from the ambience, this typical fear to lift your eyes. If at all you happen to yield, let your heart take over, raise your head, then suddenly the world around you starts galloping faster.  Your heart beats guiltily faster. Your head wishes it could turn around a whole 180 degrees..just like in those cartoon films... Your head spins. In real life, your head would be wrenched out of your neck. Not wrenched out by your spouse for overseas misdemeanors, but by the very movement of human traffic around you, that urges you to get up, merge with the distant rhythms, and hypnotically follow.

Thats when you panic! You imagine yourself headless.. you imagine that you will live an ostrich like existence... never be able to merge into the multitude of colors, the very ones that make you dizzy : 

You need a break. You need a miracle.

You sit down at a roadside restaurant and discover this Brazilian magic potion. And by magic, that one first sip, will distract you at first and will bring relief to your quandary... a few more sips and glasses will make your vision go a little blurry, but at the same time, will calm you down. A very 'OM' like chant, repeated often, it could take you into a blissfully serene state of mind, however, be cautious, as it also could take you to a highly un meditational state of tranquility!! 

The Caipi ( Caipirinha.. Wonder Mixer Fixer)

The first time I learnt of the potion, the "Caipirinha", strangely enough wasn't any where in these temperate warm humid like climates, where it becomes an essential part of not just culture, but of a natural sense to strip down to the bear minimum of clothing, without an iota of fear or apprehension that would make anyone feel this now very distracting piece of apparel be ever considered inappropriate.

I, strangely enough first had my first Caipirinha in cold, freezing, shivery Kiel in Germany, in Winter, at Angela & Madhu's home, years ago ..celebrating the arrival of a New Year. It was snowing and was cold... Everyone clothed like 'show-off' eskimos,.. and we were warming ourselves up with this cold frozen drink... The sugar with crushed lemon and Cachaça (-ka-sha-ssa-) - a kind of white clear rhum based alcohol distilled from the juice of the sugar cane!! "This is a Caipirinha", Madhu informed me.  Never would I have dreamt that 15 years later, I would be sitting on the roadside in Fortaleza, Brazil, blogging about this very powerful magical Caipirinha, and more pertinently, it being a solution for first time visitors to get over the 'feel embarrassed while you stare' in Brazil syndrome. 

Making the Magic Potion:

Scoop a couple of table spoons of brown sugar (..and before I even start conceiving this tale, I land up at #Controversy No:1 - I've grown to be a popular Caipirinha maker, shaker and taker..and have always been insisting that a real Caipi (blissfully shortened name, akin to many other short things in Brazil) needs to be made with Brown sugar.... and here, in the Mecca of Caipirinhas...I'm told very matter of factly, that it is normally made using regular White Sugar!! This will have to be clarified before I leave the shores of Iracema* )... Well, back to the recipe to conjur up this lethal fix..... You will have to cut two whole lemons into 16 quarters, dollop them into your V shaped Caipirinha hard glass (#Controversy No:2 - We have always made and drank our Caipis in a Hard V shaped glass, However, here in its alleged birthplace, I've had Caipis in every shaped and sized glass!!) You then menacingly take this little wooden baton, crush the lemons and the sugar under, smothering the sugar crystals with the lime, taking care to respect the harsh outer skin of the lemons, yet the expertise to extract essential extracts from the inside of  the lime. Then the all important, a very nice, large, pouring of Cachaça into the glass... then top up the glass with crushed Ice (Controversy No:3 - Always use crushed ice, my mentor , my tutor told me 15 years ago..and we religiously made Caipis with crushed Ice... I have had Caipis with all forms of ice, from cubes to crushed, and thus will have to learn the true form to use chilling supplements in this drink - Anyone?)... Then the bartender and the dancer merge. The drink from the land of Samba and the Carnival.. needs a little music to make the mix mix. Invert the shaker and shake the mixture in a very un James Bondly style...shake it, Stir up the movement and pour the whole thing into the glass, drop a pre cut straw into the glass, with the straw just a few inches over the brim, permitting the escaping wisps of lime, chacaça, chilled spray, tickle your nostrils while your tongue begins to listen to the music within your imagination. A few sips, interspersed with intermissions to now stir up the crushed ice, mix the brown sugar (*) with the Cachaça and agitate the lemon bits to have a say in the flavors... and then a few more sips...mix mix.. the rhythm of the music.. slowly envelopes you... The sugar dissolves slowly, romancing with the Cachaça, dancing with the lime. The Caipirinha clouds up. The Ice melts. The level in the glass reduces. Your mind clears, the cloudy fog lifts, your vision remains focussed, now completely oblivious of inhibitions, now subconsciously conscious of the shape, size and colours of tissue on seemingly invisible torsos, that not so very long ago, almost condemned you to a period of solitude. 

"Mais um Caipirinha, por favor.. " (one more Caipirinha, please)

and you have begun a true tryst with a new culture, now, shedding all inhibitions into oblivion. 

Ram 

in Fortaleza
Gaining courage to go out alone
Learning more about Caipirionomics!

The Crooked Cashewnut Gets More Crooked

This is a little follow up on the first Note I wrote earlier about three years ago

http://dustbin-by-ram.blogspot.com.br/2010/05/crooked-cashewnut.html

I state with conviction that The Crooked Cashewnut has got all the more "crookeder" !! 

We had discussed a few years ago, the factors that affected the crooked nut that made the business wicked... 

We had summarized then, that in the future, cashew would grow on the Moon, the ever multiplying and growing Chinese would multiply and clone cashew... .. seemingly weird, imaginative thoughts, that among other things,  would change the way cashew business was done... And, while revisiting the crooked nut and the blog, I see that it's all falling into place... well, almost!

Almost, because there's No Cashew on the Moon as yet and No chinese cashew clones... but I can assure you that we're not very far away.  The Chinese incursion is well underway. Over a hundred Chinese business boys have overnight sprouted in Bissau aggressively buying raw cashews while the market is in recession. I imagine they're 'sinisterly' secretly breeding seedlings to clone and plant on the moon. I see my prophecies coming true. I see no other reason that the Chinese would invade Bissau for cashews in this manner while rest of the cashew world is reeling from a form of recession!!!

I thus, unrelently continue my search, trying to identify new predictable parameters that make the Cashew business wicked and un predictable. 

For a Little more clarity on LIfe in Fortaleza - Sketch by Ram

Here I am, three trying years sine I wrote the blog on Bissau, and four since the blog on the Crooked nut, sitting in beautiful Fortaleza, Brazil, typing out a new blog,  at a tiny poolside, sipping Caipirinhas and Beers, in a regular shirt and shorts..... and I am already feeling kind of nakedly over dressed. (I see more embarrassment in being fully clothed, than fully unclothed, without any offending piece of obstructive tissue.) However shall not digress into the issue of dress code here in Brazil as that deserves a whole new separate blog!! 

The Brazilians didn't make a feeble appearance in my first blog on Crooked Cashews. They are now prominent in my updated list of those factors that make the crooked nut even more crooked. I remember blurting out, once in one of my  developmental outbursts, "Brazil will be to West Africa, what India was to East Africa". The reasons, however, today are far less revealing ones.

Please do read my blog from two years ago when we first brought the Brazilians to West Africa. ( I quickly add that I refer to the modern era - thus 'brought' indicates that we invited them as commercial buyers of the crooked nut).  Little did I know that my prophecy was being in a way brought to life by me, myself!! But those days of proximity with Brazilians in Bissau does give me an insight into my life in the last 14 days.

http://dustbin-by-ram.blogspot.com.br/2011/05/bissau-diary-may-2011-bike-good-food.html

And while I call the discussion on Brazilian dress code a digression, I realize that I can see that this very dress code will change the way cashew business is conducted from West Africa in the future.  ... my friend John Rao will be able to explain the immense energy that I describe below, far better than I can, I'm sure.

Work, and my typing, moves at a snails pace, not because the Brazilian way of life is slow...but because half the time is spent in observing the fashion trends in Beach wear in Brazil that keep blurring ones vision and thoughts. I sincerely hope I am able to complete my blog before I leave Brazil.

Back to the current Blog : What new factors could affect our crooked nut

1. African Processing Industry : Africa is now apparently processing 30% of its raw nut production ( according to the ACA and ACi) and this definitely can create mixed tremors in prices... While factories n Africa clamour and use political influence to encourage governments to lower raw nut prices and ban the export of raw nuts... often trying to indict India, Vietnam and now Brazil for taking their raw material!! The development agencies play the balancing act. Indian consumption is essential to their goals, especiall since the last two years have seen decline in US and European demand for kernels. thus leaving us and everyone in terrible turmoil. Export of Raws increase prices. Local Processing drops prices. Huh. So encourage value addition and farmers lose interest? We're getting all the more confused.

2. Migration: We had earlier referred to the migration of the West African traders to East Africa. What we didnt contend for was the very concerted move by big East African giants who have invaded our sanctum sanatorium and have already introduced spin ... very quickly in their innings. Our Pundits are trying to analyse their master plan, but with the absence of ICC like technical assistance to umpires ( ICC of Cricket and NOT the hallowed Court) ..doctrines like third umpires, I doubt we will be able to figure out the effect of their Invasion,and what effects it could have on the Crooked nut business.  Huge inflow of cash, creates competition and prices move up. Over the years, the product volume grows up and markets move down. Still confused?

3. Climate Change : This is truly real and present danger!!  quite scary.. was discussed earlier too... but is getting all the more real. It's freezingly cold in Dakar , Gambia and parts of Bissau in the nights...yet terribly hot in the days. Rains are also confused.  The crop Outturns are fine, but the creeping of oily nuts will change the way nuts are sold in the region.  Were already seeing a disinterest in prime raw nuts. So is Global warming cooling the demand for cashews? Very very Wicked parameter.

4. Barack Obama and the US Immigration policy  : the champion of Peace and the flag bearer of the restructuring and re-industrialisation of the all powerful USA... While the USAID, USDA through the ACA and ACi have been promoting the Crooked Nut as a development tool in Africa, last year the reluctance of the American Industry to import anything that they can consume or produce, seems to be tempting the big markets of US ( and of course anything the US does, Europe tries) thus big buyers in US decided to reduce import of Non US products.  Thus while they promote more processing in West Africa, (Drops prices) they've reduced intake(also drops prices).
Will processing or value addition move to the Americas? Will there be more stress on local American nuts? Almonds, Pistachios, Groundnuts, Hazelnuts dont need Visas to enter the US Market.
Will the US immigration policy apply to the poor already crooked nut? This can only drop the markets, while it certainly looks good on an American development agenda on paper.

5. Samba, Brazil and Bikinis : Despite my unwillingness to digress, I will have to visit this parameter (para inch?? if one was to use a term - in a size that is comparable to the clothing benchmark in Brazil) .. as it plays an all important role in the future of Cashew nuts. For once, the crooked nuts curves,  looks good, resembling the curves on which this humble (in size), yet regal (in terms of the role it plays), piece of clothing rests on. Virtually hugging on for dear life, despite visionary attempts to make the insignificant piece of cloth let go!!

Though I have been told often, by more learned exponents and amateurs, that The Samba is not a Brazilian movement, I, and am sure all of you reading this, imagine this is very Brazilian. And for some reason, also imagine this is feminine. Yet at all the Samba performances I've seen so far are Men drumming, singing and dancing (I can visually hear John saying Im looking at the wrong places)...However, to be fair to those misconceptions,, as the music goes on, the rhythmic beat and slowly the women gyrate, different parts of their Brazilian anatomy, each moving in different directions, yet all well connected, and thus together producing some sort of ever building energy. The energy buid up motivates the drummers and the onlookers in a strange way. In a complex sort of chain reaction, all this energy radiates and increases in disproportional magnitude.

And this energy, is what will affect decisions made by people in the cashew business in the future. I see this energy attracting all the cashew processors and traders alike, in the future, with some sort of magnetism, making businessmen taking decisions that will continue to confound the pundits ...Two years ago when we started this trend, none of us could figure out the market... we tried all permutations and combinations , to look at parity. India market versus Brazilian market.. We just couldnt figure out how Brazil was able defeat all newtonian principles, defying gravity and parity with aplomb.

Now, a couple years wiser, I figure out that this B-Energy (a confluence of The Samba and Bikinis moving in a figure of eightish rhythymic gyromechanical yet fluid motion..) will change the way automobiles, aeroplanes and spaceships are powered in the future.
For the moment, the crooked cashewnut business will get all the more wicked with Malayalees, the Nairs and the Pillais and the newer Shahs of the Nutty business will flock to experience this energy, thus pushing up local value for the nuts... However this could also see the drop in price of African seed caused by the exodus from Africa!! Very Crooked & Very Wicked!

6. Cloned Cashew in Outerspace : I must once again bring up the possibilities of Cashew on the moon and this becomes a reality as Sir Richard Branson and many more make Space travel accessible.. Space and moonstations are just around the corner. This is what we know from our American space programs, (some of this via Wikileaks.) The Chinese, Russians, North Koreans, Japanese have silently been launching spaceships and will lead the way for sure. According to the US, the Chinese are constantly spying and improving on stolen US  technologies. And if the way the USAID and USDA are promoting Cashew, I see Cashew on the Moon or other planets much sooner than expected, and all the more likely a cloned, Chinese variety. 

7. The Indian Governments Africa Policy Versus the Chinese Governments Chinese Policies :
Two points to ponder before stepping into this quagmire
1. Indian Business Presence in Africa was principally by its private citizens
2. The Chinese presence in African Business is State encouraged

The Indian Governemnt, unlike the Chinese, like to look at long term participatory Investment projects and this seemingly, hasn't been very successful -  By the time the Indian Govt gets through its red tapism and corruption prevention policies (that quite probably open new avenues for corrupt practices), the Chinese have come, seen, conquered, multiplied and have left...albeit having taken what they came for and leaving behind a few structures with diminishing character.. and a multitude of chinese characters, with heavy multiplying potential.

Cashew that used to be an Indian domain, is now more American and will soon be Chinese, more than ever before. Thanks to the Indian Governments Africa Policy.

The Chinese gift Africa ten times the money India loans. The Chinese, thus very cleverly, kill two or many more birds (three, four or even five), with one stone.

Bird 1: They despatch a multitude of Chinese people to employ with their overseas projects. Chinese employment figures have been up since they commenced helping Africa.

Bird 2: The second bird the Chinese manage to so effectively eliminate is their population growth. By exporting a multitude of Chinese labourers to Africa, the Chinese curb their indigenous population growth.

Bird 3: World Acceptance : The Chinese thus impress World and UN Agencies with their effective population control and employment growth figures, bringing into the club of acceptable countries that have democratic norms and achieve goals set by Western Institutions.

Bird 4: Africas Raw Materials - China benefits with now easy access to most of Africas Raw Materials

Bird 5: African Union Votes at the UN or World Platforms to gain China a makeover from the Dictatorial like image of the past to one of the saviour of the world.

Stone 1: Chinese Aid to Africa. With a few Billion US Dollars of Aid to Africa, the above Birds are 'killed' by China, before India has an iota of a chance to step in.

They have successfully mastered the art of win win development. They win in every way.
Without even having to speak English!!

While you wonder, what does this all have to do with Cashew, I must admit I have digressed with Nationalist fervor.!! The point I want to make is that had India, some 10 to 40 or even 100 years ago, having been solely responsible for the boom in Raw Cashew growth in Africa, invested in growing the valude addition industry then, in Africa, we wouldn't have had such a crooked or wicked nut to deal with today.

I dont know where this blog is heading right now.

As we stand today (I sit sipping my 3rd beer after some Caipirinhas or the other way around), there still seems no logic in the market trend of the crooked kernel. Affected by a multitude of parameters, that keep multiplying, only experience will help us navigate through the maze of permutations and combinations to understand the trade.

I joke with Krishnan, a friend, a buyer, a poet, a philosopher and an idealist... I would also say spiritualist (referring to our high calorific spiritual common interest), and also must highlight his contributions here. It was he who conjured up the term SEGABI and also, more importantly  "The Crooked Nut.....whose shape makes the business wicked", the very phrase that got me writing this blog. 

Is there rhyme, is there reason .. will the crooked nut ever have straightforward business sense.

Krishnan sees very little hope. I, however, am a firm believer his adage is what makes all of us continue to keep rallying around this Crooked nut.. constantly pondering.. each season, with its variances, like a Chess game... Looking for solutions. Do we have a solution? Do we know the answers... or as Krishnan poetically wishes,

a vision,
a Crystal Ball,
that with some precision
will tell us all.

While he continues to imagine magical solutions to queries on the Crooked Nuts wickedness, I'll take my fingers off the keyboard, take another sip of another  Caipirinha, observe the more recent trends in Brazilian fashion... and continue to dream up solutions.

Ram

Fortaleza

In a very Spirited un spiritual mood

To Jump ..or not to Jump.. On Skydiving and in Life.

"I Did it" my 11 year old daughter gleefully runs, looking for her friends, as soon as her tandem harness is released .. Have just seen a quantum of joy in those few nano seconds, as my camera shutter closes .. and the moment is captured. The sense of pride, achievement immediately radiates... From her to me.

"I DID IT " Rehane Gleaming after her Jump

We're on the beach at Senegambia (in The Gambia) where she has just jumped for the first time of her life.  Skydived from 14,000 ft! Egged on by her close friends Pranalee, Disha and little 7 year old Garv, who have just completed the jump a few minutes ago. My hearts been beating, progressively faster, ever since the telephonic discussion the previous night with Garvs father, Manish. "We've managed to get Rehane a slot too" he says! Wow.. I happily, but reluctantly hear the news. I'm giving my daughter permission to leap off an aircraft.  Jamila, my wife, is far more visibly concerned & reluctant. We have a little argument, which I half-heartedly want to lose, but habitually invoke that terrible, all powerful fatherly VETO and walk away from the inconclusive discussion.  Tomorrow we will decide whether we let her or not be a part of this skydiving madness. In the back of my mind, I un-trasnparently hope there's no place on the list. I believe I am successful in not letting my real emotions show. I am, after all, that modern, brave father letting my darling daughter do equally modern and brave things.

Tomorrow, will expose me.

Tomorrow comes. We are a nervous wreck of a family..arguing on virtually everything :  appropriate skydiving clothes, using more obvious as ever, arm twisting method to raise objections. Loose shirts out, shoes with laces, clothing colour - all matter! I scream that were late, trying to disguise all nervousness with a loud voice.  Jamila, opts to stay at home and follow later. I ride the bike with Rehane to Senegambia.  Hidden within my helmet, my thoughts get juggled all the more. I fear we're late only to find that everyone is as late as well. All are arriving as we do. A long walk to the beach and we find that all skydiving slots are pre booked.  Slight relief and disappointment are the immediate respective emotions emerging from the two of us.  But then the ever friendly Belgians, speaking a heavily accented English, countering my efforts to impress them with my French, say they will try and find a slot for Rehane. Emergent emotions reversal  is evident.

But its now time for the first batch to head to the Airport.

The First Group : Pranalee, Disha Garv and Manish

I accompany the first group of four to the airport.  I ride the bike intending to follow their bus, but in a brief jiffy, lose sight of them in my helmet encompassed eyesight.  Accelerating, I eventually reach the Airport well before them, and spend a few long minutes in confused thought. Manish, Disha Garv and Pranalee, the first batch of Indian friends doing the jump soon arrive and are quickly briefed, strapped up. They make a few calls from my phone and then before I ride back quickly to Senegambia,  I see them walk a spacemanish walk to the aircraft. A brief glimpse of the Cessna Caravan on the Tarmac has already taken me back to my aircraft maintenance engineering days. I remember Victor Golf Sierra  (VT-EGS), our own 172 and memories of joy with friends like Javed  and Sree ... Thoughts drift to HIET days with classmates Zohreh n Reza, Theo, Robert, Mohammed .. Mazi...And Ofcourse the wonderful meetings at the reception with John, Swaroop, Joe, KT, Marianne, Kalyani and Bhama... Nice thoughts whiz past, as I zip back to the present and reach Senegambia.

I thought I was quick on the bike, but as I reach Senegambia and briskly walk to the Beach, I see that they have already jumped.. Pop pop pop pop four orange chutes open after a few other coloured ones... And reality sinks in. They've actually jumped! Did we hear anyone scream "PUSH ME..." The dialogue from Farhan Akhtars film "Zindagi ne Milegi Dobara" flashes in my head, as I imagine one of the four friends having to be pushed out of the aircraft...and I see the whole film in a flash in my head.

This was the film that actually started the trend .. the want, for a group of friends to taste adrenalin rushing fantasies of the others. Three friends scoot off to Spain for a Pre wedding bachelor party , each one having to give a go at a sport chosen by the others.. Deep sea diving, skydiving and the Bull Run are their chosen sports. An interesting love story with adventure of the nouveau riche .. Makes great watching with great songs and locations. ... We've been planning an adventure trip to Spain ever since.. Manish has already got himself a Landrover Discovery.. mine is on its way .. A beautiful 4x4 car that features in the film.  The stage is set.....  And then one Sunday at Coco Ocean, we see this Belgian team of skydivers land on the beach in front of us. And theyre advertising Skydiving here in The Gambia. Right  here in The Gambia....!!! The first proposal comes from Manish. Bhavishya, Vipul's bubbly, energetic and fun loving spouse is the first to say YES. The kids are thrilled in unison. Prachi and I have subtle smiles.. I guess we share similar thoughts with Vipul...We'd rather watch. If everyones going to jump, whos going to watch and be impressed?? We joke and laugh (in relief) as we now stand armed with cameras, watch their descent.

The 2nd Group Ronit Rehane Bhavishya & Sachin

Garvs gleeful touchdown

• Whooshing away, the first lot begin touchdowns.... Expecting to see wide open, scared eyes.... am surprised to hear gleeful screams of joy as Pranalee Garv and Disha land first. I capture in amazement, 7 year old Garv gurgling in excitement, wanting to jump immediately again. Pranalee runs to Rehane ..and the two engage in rapid chatter at would've made monkeys or even an AK 47 jealous.  Rehane is all over me.. "Papa, please, please, please..."... and I trudge, confused, to the registration desk.  The next batch, save for Bhavishya, is not yet there. They need to leave for the airport after filling up the registration as well as signing a declaration .... The form says that the maximum insurance they'll pay out is 15,000 Euros... We joke about who's going to benefit, laugh a bit, and then the thoughts get more serious when the lady at the desk says, that if the next lot is not here, and asks if we have anyone else from the remaining bookings.  No one else is there. My heart sinks while Rehanes leaps with joy as her name gets taken down onto that list. Mahesh and Neha quickly volunteer their sons, Sachin and tiny 7 year old Ronit. They will all jump with the leader, Bhavisha.  Rehane opts to ride with me on the bike to the airport. This time I know I can't wait till they've left for the aircraft to leave. My phone once again makes the round. Everyone wants to speak to the family waiting back there at Senegambia. But then as I leave, I realise that my phone is with Ronit , being spoken to rather that peaking to his parents.. . 

The Leap

Free Fall

Touchdown

I rush to the gate and get my phone back and then drive like the devil to the Senegambia. 21 kilometres whiz past.. I don't stop running as I lug my bag, Rehanes helmet and my weighty feelings ... 100 metres short of the beach I hear the aircraft ...and the orange and other coloured parachutes open. No thoughts here and I struggle with my breath to yank out the camera and start shooting pictures .. Not wanting to miss my daughters heroic jump. Now that the parachutes are open, so do my thoughts of worry now change to pride and exaltation. Rehane is the last to land. Bhavisha is loudly screaming and thanking her tandem instructor as well as the camera woman and quickly pointing out that the other cameraman is her husband. I try to rush forward to get a frontal view of Rehane landing but trip on the sandbags and fall into the water. Cricketing experience helps me keep the camera above. I get up and run towards the spot where Rehane is landing. I reach her all excited saying 'awesome, awesome'... Hugging her instructor, running ...  Vipul too gets a gleeful hug, I get an armful bundle and then she runs to spread and share the joy with Pranalee....

It's been a few days and several others have jumped. Ponchy too, egged on by his sisters and cousin. He does it with a slightly humorous belly landing, but is up in a jiffy smiling.  Everyone I know has jumped .  The Evenings are spent at homes watching photographs and the videos.  All posted on Facebook ..mailed to friends and relatives.

I boast that letting someone close to you jump is as difficult as jumping.

Real life decisions make a parallel. To do it or not to do it.

I try to analyse the mindset.. Sitting at the edge of the aircraft door... Why is it that you think, not of the beauty and joy, but of impending disasters ?

Will we ever break this negativity that encompasses us?

My daughter has.. as with the others who jumped. 

Will I be able to overcome this fear?  

I'll never know until I do it. 

The end song of Zindagi ne Milegi Dobara rings in my head and I subconsciously hum it...'Sooraj ki baahon mein... Ye mera Zindagi...' (In the arms of the sun, this is my life....)... And I realise that's it's absolutely true...

I Look around.. I smile. "I've done it" I say to myself.

Re-discovering my African "roots"

My African Roots? ... am not trying to do a Kunta Kinteh here. Alex Haley wont have grounds to sue me for plagiarism :-)
Well, Neither have I ever thought that I don't belong here!
But guess calling it "Roots' may be a bit far fetched..

Well, a few months ago, on a two night transit halt at Addis, enroute from a meeting with old friend Prakash Nainani in Nairobi, Kenya, I decided to take a trip down "memory lane". Not much a 1 to 3 year old would remember I guess... But if you had a dad like mine, who photographed virtually every moment that we lived in Ethiopia ( and elsewhere, until we , the kids took over his cameras , used and abused them and finally lost them too!! ), then youd have something to remember. And his prowess was not just taking photographs. It covered the somewhat painful task of converting them into slides and thus "slideshows" in the old fashioned original sense. Every party that we had at home, involved the somehow, initially exciting yet painful petite task of first arranging the slides, taking care to ensure they were straight, into those plastic trays called magazines.  Then watching these beautiful pictures over and over again, each exercise making us slightly more reluctant volunteers for the task. Every slide that appeared reverse or upside down would bring about the accusatory groans from the viewers. But the pictures gradually became imprinted in our memories. I guess , that built a kind of "factoidish" memory.. to a large extent making us all believe that we actually remembered those photographed events. As we grew, we'd continue to recount stories of African life in Ethiopia. Recount them with a conviction that we were really there and remembered every vivid moment.

And those memories came out all the more vivid today as I drove through the streets of Addis. Each monument matched those amateur professional looking pics that Dad took with exacting clarity.

Fekadu Hailu with his Mercedes Taxi

"You were ONE year old"!!! my hired taxi driver-cum-guide, Fekadu Hailu, disbelievingly asks me if I could really remember??

Ras Hotel

The Lion in fron of the Commercial Bank

HE Haile Sallassies "Indian" Throne

A Slightly out of focus Plaque on the Throne

One of my first stops , after driving past Ras Hotel, the Commercial Bank and its Lion statue that was typical of anything to do with Haile Selassie, is a visit to the LUCY Museum. I run through the museum, quite more out of nostalgia than historical interest.  But Haile Selassies throne in the "Lucy" museum catches my attention. Not for its size and state of wear, but a little plaque on it.  This is one that Dad didn't photograph. But its the sign that calls for my attention. Gifted by the Indian Community to Emperor Selassie in 1935!! Stolen by the "fascist" Italians ( Berlousconis ancestors were not much different in character) and returned in 1972 ( Guess the Berlousconis had shifted their attention to 'other' stuff by then.

Lucy herself is not there, but a copy ( not clone) is theree for unsuspecting visitors like me. Who and where (*** ****) is Lucy?? Shes apparently travelling around museums all over the US of A. Mental images of Lucille Ball float past. I mentally smile, while my museum guide tries to figure out what he said to make me smile. Australopithicus ..he continues giving me the genus of the oldest fossil ever found ... Resembling us humans.... .. Guess a lot of it all started here... The parallel betwen Lucys beginings and mine make me smile.

It started for many of us here in Ethiopia. My begining of an African sojourn and the entire Human race as well. The blogger in me gets that tingling feeling. I share something in common with humankind.

A lot of our history is here in Ethiopia, as is mine.

For humankind it's being eked out out of fossils. For me, from fossilised photographs!

St Georges Beer, Injira, Fresh Meat with Me

Alex Haley would have been proud of me. Both as a hunter of my roots and my efforts to write.

Ram
in Addis, Ethiopia