This blog is mainly to make my published articles and other opinions on contemporary and contentious issues - national and international - accessible to a wider readership in addition to readers of the papers/journals etc wherever they are published, for their reading pleasure, reactions and comments.
On April 10 this year, Big Ben – probably the best-known bell in the world – which is inside the famous clock tower in London, celebrated the 150th anniversary of its existence. Cast in the Whitechapel Bell Foundry which is said to be one of only two such foundries left in the UK today, the huge 14.5 ton bell inside the world's largest four-faced chiming clock, even now provides right time and those distinctive chimes known to Britons as the ‘bongs’.
For tourists flocking to London, among the famous sights at which to aim their cameras – like BuckinghamPalace, the Tower of London, Nelson's Column and the London Eye, is also The Big Ben – which in a recent poll was voted Britons' favourite landmark. Despite its popularity, funnily it is not uncommon for tourists and even taxi drivers to mistake the elegant Victorian edifice of the Palace of Westminster Clock Tower with the Big Ben.
The Whitechapel Bell Foundry which made Big Ben, along with America's Liberty Bell, is just one among a number of others who cast bells for cathedrals and churches around the world in the days of yore. One such beneficiary Church in India sporting an ancient clock tower is in Mahé on our west coast, which I had occasion to stumble upon during my tenure as the chief of Pondicherry Police. Mahé, midst surrounding Kerala, is one of the four constituent erstwhile French-ruled land territories now in the Union Territory of Pondicherry.
According to a brief history of the Mahé church dedicated to St Teresa of Avila – prepared by Fr. Menezes – a former vicar, one Abbé Duchenin reconstructed the then existing thatched roof church in 1788 with laterite stone and Mangalore tiles, in its present model. The Church tower was then renovated in 1855 and a clock was installed on this tower presented to the Church by some French Marines. To this day – at least till the time I saw it in the late 90s, it has given correct time to the whole town of Mahé. According to Mahé’s historian novelist Gangadharan, the clock was from Borel, Paris – one of the very early clock manufacturers, set up by Jules Borel and Paul Courvoisier way back in the 1850s – and installed in Mahé church in 1855, three years before the BIG BEN in London was erected above the British Parliament in 1858. Even though the Mahé clock is not as big as the BIG BEN, the fact that it is three years older (if Gangadharan’s version is to be given credence) and still giving good time, is significant.
It makes me wonder why we Indians care so little to know about our heritage and such wonderful treasures lying in our very own backyard, whilst Britons celebrate their ‘bonging’ counterparts!
For all it's hype California gave me a rather clammy welcome in early January this year. Its much-trumpeted glorious weather, instead, played truant through my four weeks' stay there with daughter Sonal. It was racy winds and rain coupled with a temperature drop, the kind locals were not used to. ‘Twas California's worst storm ever in ten years, they said! But who cared! I had the warmth of my daughter's love and the comfort of her delightful place at Domicilio, Santa Clara.
The incessant rain and unpredictable weather often forced me indoors – hampered my morning constitutional outings, and put up hurdles in my adventures to satisfy the insatiable thirst within to experience new places, people and cuisines. But the whistling winds outside seemed to have their own say – telling me there's more to California than what's commonly talked about. The beautiful view outside the apartment, overlooking the palm trees and swimming pool in the centre court below, with the distant hills in the background held promise. Considering the worst snow storms rest of America and Canada were experiencing, I was still better off.
The scenic splendour of California unfolded in bits and pieces, each time the weather held out – for me to explore the neighbourhood on foot, or for Sonal to bundle me into her car and whisk me off to see the towns that make up Silicon Valley. Initially it was the famous academia – the over two centuries old Santa Clara Mission with its University next door, and the famous StanfordUniversity in Palo Alto, just around the corner. The impressive drive that led up to the main campus – the majestic palms towering everywhere were just amazing, especially when one realized palms were not really native to California.
While my first weekend there was a washout, the weather gods were kind over the next – to let us experience Alamo Hills, NapaValley and Lake Tahoe on the Nevada border with its Casinos. It started with a night at Aroon and Usha's at Oakshire Place on AlamoHeights – delightfully luxurious and relaxing; with the view from the ridge during my walk in the crisp morning air, refreshingly soothing and invigorating. But NapaValley was a disappointment. Being winter, the vineyards were all dried up, barren and devoid of leaves. For miles around not a sprout nor shred of green atop the brown stub-trunks that in season had sported lush green and grapes. But wine tasting - the bread and butter of the area still held strong! We experienced Beringer's – only to come off with a sick feeling of being cheated and deprived of an expected treat – as if wineries here have done you one helluva favour by letting you stray into their hallowed precincts! Unlike in France, wine-tasting in America's Napa is a total hoax, making you end up paying anywhere between 25 to 45 dollars for four thimbleful sips of wine while being bored with commentaries on their own founding history and assumed greatness.
Visiting Lake Tahoe in the company of David and Rebecca Pinto, was stunning; the smooth climb from rainy sea levels of Davis (Sacramento) where they live, to altitudes over seven thousand feet to access Tahoe, not discernibly felt or realized. And Tahoe itself tucked away so majestically amidst a tranquil setting of tall pines atop the pristine HighSierraMountains – when sighted, just breath-takingly awesome. No less gripping, the sheer expanse of its unfrozen waters – even more, the dark metal green emerald waters of Emerald Bay not all tourists take the trouble to go to. The logwood cabins almost buried under snow and settlements along the route around Tahoe were very picturesque; the ski-runs/resorts on the snowy white mountain slopes around were ever so enticingly exciting; and our own dwarfed presence, mere insignificant dots marring the spotless grandeur of white for miles around. A memorable experience indeed!
Over the third weekend came my real treat – two days of San Francisco – California's show piece. Sonal chose the 49 Mile Scenic Drive what Joseph M. Lubow and Laurel Rosen called "the best tool for exploring the whole city" – in their book "San Francisco's 49 Mile Scenic Drive: The Guidebook" – a paperback of 2001. Signs for the Drive – a seagull looking over one white shoulder into a blue sky, dot throughout the route around San Francisco.
Like most who have attempted, we never got down to completing the whole ‘drive’ in one sitting. The Drive was created in 1938, to highlight the city's beauty and entertain tourists attending the Golden Gate International Exposition of 1939-40, a fair that opened the following year on Treasure Island. The route then began at City Hall, curved along the northern shoreline of the bay and down the Pacific coastline, swooped around Lake Merced, dipped into Golden Gate Park, climbed to the top of Twin Peaks, cruised down Market Street, crossed the Bay Bridge, and finally ended on Treasure Island. It now begins and ends at City Hall, modified many times since its first meandering course was traced on a map.
We were able to cover majority of the listed sights; among the vintage and modern landmarks of which are – the Old St. Mary's Church, Pacific Bell Park, Palace of Fine Arts, Ferry Building and Mission Dolores where a row of stately palms greet you as you skim along. Along the way experiencing the narrow streets of Chinatown, where we funnily ate at the trendy E&O Trading Company while earnestly salivating for more traditional & down-to-earth Chinese dim-sum. We ignored not Little Italy too, the section with Italiano restaurante "Roma Italian" where we had coffees and tiramisu. After a short drive thereafter, we were greeted by giant female legs in seductive hose stockings, sticking out of a window on the street, also dotted with yoga centres! This was San Francisco's Haight & Ashbury district, which 40-odd years ago weeded out the 'straights' to welcome in the weed, LSD, hashish and riff-raff by holding the first Hippie Parade.The wonders of all three neighbourhoods are best discovered on foot. But ascending Twin Peaks known for its stunning city panorama though, we found our way blocked – for similar reason having to abandon our attempt to reach the CoitTower with its murals too, and the towering Transamerica Pyramid that's seen from every nook and corner.
With the seagull signs missing at many intersections and without a map, the Drive is difficult to follow – as also without someone sitting in the passenger seat as I was doing for Sonal, looking back and forth between the map and the cityscape, and calling out directions despite having a GPS at hand!
Driving here can be a daunting exercise for a newcomer to the city, especially with its incredible gradients and curious distractions including a variety of architectural styles – the 'dollhouse' Victorians, the stately Queen Annes, the ornate Edwardians. There were places blocked by "one-way" or "no-turning" signs making it hard to turn around, backtrack, retrace or to get back on track. There are other stretches distinctly non-scenic – filled with fast-moving cars furiously changing lanes; as also bustling complexes clogged with cars, taxis, buses, even jaywalkers and foot-slogging nature walkers.
We drove up Nob Hill following one of the city's hallmark overcrowded antique cable cars – right on its tracks (perhaps against regulations, but we did it anyway) along steep inclines between terraced flat stretches where crossroads met, and I got pictures of the vintage coach that reminded me of railroads from the wild west era; and of people hanging out – a common sight back home in the starved-for-transport city of our New Delhi. We got into a tizzy then with even steeper gradients, on the downward stretches of which no road could at all be seen beyond the car's bonnet. Instead of holding the steering wheel with both her hands, Sonal preferred driving downhill with one hand gripping the steering wheel and the other gripping her dad's arm, whilst screaming all the way till we reached comparatively manageable level stretches. Talk about a free rollercoaster ride! With enough wind of courage under her wings, she then dared the drive down Lombard – the Crooked Street, to find it child's play compared to stretches of inclines earlier conquered.
At every road crossing in the higher stretcheswe had a full view reaching right up to the harbour with ships berthed alongside and deep into the bay. Where to, the Drive eventually took us – on to Jefferson Street that's despised by the local residents, but popularly known to tourists as the Fisherman's Wharf. On the embarcadero here is supposed to be mounted the statue of Mahatma Gandhi, so insultingly as to have invited protests for reasons of being difficult to locate even by those specifically looking for it. Driving past Pier 39 later in the dark, we heard the lazy sea otters cry out before they caught some shut-eye.
The finale for our first day in this glorious city definitely had to be the Golden GateBridge. Wanting to catch the sunset, we drove over and across it to access the vista points. We lost track of time even as we feasted on the sights from across, of the one-time-high-security-prison Alcatraz (that once incarcerated the notorious mafia don Al Capone too) and of the San Francisco skyline at dusk. We drove up the mountain side through the quaint artists' haunt Sausalito, to higher vista points hugging the mountain beside and beyond the other end of GG – where we walked right up to and above the vertical end-pillars of the bridge making my vertigo-touching acrophobia (fear of heights) act up a bit. But since this place was known to give the best view at sunset, we had to make it. It was worth the hour spent here savouring sights and taking pictures while bracing the winds at twilight against the constantly changing hues of a crimson sky. The mighty GG stood dwarfed before our eyes with the red and yellow lights from moving cars on it, appear as though they were mighty ant-trails from our vantage height. Our hearts raced with the sheer grandeur of it!
We started day two leisurely, in time for brunch at the Squat & Gobble where Castro meets Market, with friend Vikram Anand's daughter Missy Aparajita. Castro houses the town's Gay quarter, where for the first time I experienced people-watching from a street cafe, where everyone seemed to be overly groomed, young men walking in pairs, with their cute canine pets at their heels – reminding me of society ladies in high heels with foot-long cigarette holders in mouth, cuddling their manicured curly poodles. As Sonal wrote in her 'foodie' blog later, this place is her "favourite for the consistently delicious food and the fun ambience; for the friendly and extremely efficient service from the gorgeous guys behind the bar, and the warm and welcoming Management that goes above and beyond to make one's visit enjoyable, every time!"
Back to China town again, Sonal insisted we enter a reflexology joint where I refused to give a tip for the utter sham job they did on my feet – despite the Chinese lady's repeated exhortations to my daughter telling her how handsome she found her dad to be! Escaping that place, we ended up losing our way curving around the storied Presidio – earlier an Army base, now a national park with a quirky pet cemetery too – ending up at the Greek/Romanesque Exploratorium at the Palace of Fine Arts. Try as we may, we could not find a way to enter it without driving illegally across the road! The Drive here swept down the Great Highway, skirting the vast sandy expanse and crashing waves of OceanBeach, to circle the lovely StowLake in Golden GatePark which consumed a considerable part of our second day. I later got to know that the California State Automobile Association's new version of its San Francisco Guide Map which features a thick, bright red line showing the 49 Mile Scenic Drive is a good aid here, as it includes a much-needed inset of the path the scenic drive follows as it winds through GG Park – which apparently can befuddle even residents. But the sheer foresty grandeur of the Park made it a delight for us to lose ourselves in it, while on our way to and past the Dutch Windmill to reach the high-windy stretches of the Cliff House over looking vast stretches of the beach alongside the Pacific Ocean. Portions of rocky stretches here lent a great backdrop for glorious pictures. I bought Sonal some costume jewellery ear-rings too, from street gypsy vendors selling wares from portable makeshift display units. We ended day two by treating ourselves to hot mugs of cocoa at famous Ghirardelli Square along with Cara's handmade cupcakes – that left a delightfully sweet taste in our mouths to go with all the other delights of our two days in San Francisco.
The other side of policing: Politics, mind games Aasim Khan / CNN-IBN Published on Wed, Apr 02, 2008 at 14:59, Updated on Wed, Apr 02, 2008 at 18:16 in Nation section Tags: On The Beat, Police , New Delhi New Delhi: On a fateful November morning in 1984 – a day after Indira Gandhi’s assassination – a mob gathered outside Sis Ganj Gurudwara. One lone officer stood in the line of duty and ordered the policemen to fire. “When mob was advancing, I gave them a warning, but when they did not heed, I ordered fire,” recalls former Delhi police commissioner Maxwell Pereira. Many lives were saved but it did little for the career of Maxwell Pereira. After a silence of 23 years, Pereira has now spilled the beans in his book, The Other Side of Policing. “What was shocking was I gave a message saying I have opened fire but control room would not acknowledge. They were silent,” he says. What Pereira did was a brave act in 1984 but there were few others who could resist the political pressure. No wonder 1984 was not the last time when the hand of law failed to help the victims. It’s been 18 months since the Supreme Court moved to give functional autonomy to the police (Prakash Singh Vs Govt of India Case) but so far only 10 states have accepted the directives. Most of them small states, but most big states, notorious for police-politician nexus, have simply ignored them. Prakash Singh, a former Chief of the Border Security Force, says politicians are not keen on implementing the judgement because it takes away their powers to transfer any cop anywhere , anytime. “It’s a very strong instrument to show I can influence your future and career,” he says. For most in police the fear of transfer and punishment posting still weighs too heavy.
