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Need a life-changing book? Pick something else. Read The Liquid for its irreverence, wit, tone and brutal honesty“I REMEMBER having some ‘happy pizza’ in Cambodia once and being stoned for a whole day, but I didn’t relive 10 years of my life in a hallucination. Not even close. I just giggled a lot and thought the central pillar at Ankor Vat looked like the chute of a magic beanstalk. But that was easily attributed to what I’d ingested: the product of some magic seeds.—Dave Besseling, author of The Liquid Refuses to Ignite. That was Besseling puzzled— Ankor Vat’s hallucinogenics gave him the ‘giggles’. Varanasi’s innocuous lassi led to a series of slo’-mo’ to super-fast flashbacks, filmishtyle. Of course, there is that small possibility that the flashbacks were induced by what Besseling ate/drank/consumed the evening before. Or, they were the early symptoms of the severe stomach flu which would flatten him later. (Caution; if you are tender-hearted then read the lurid descriptions of his flu symptoms at your own risk.) Those who wonder why there are so many tourists and truth-seekers in all the Indian ‘holy cities’ or in South East Asia—this book will not provide you with any answers. And thank the lord for that. Besseling’s The Lquid Refuses To Ignite was not written to enlighten— neither the inhabitants of the host country nor its guests; those who come to ‘holy places’ to seek answers or hallucinate their way to Nirvana. The Canadian-born, tattoo artistcum- journalist’s first book is a compilation of essays some of which have already been published in Tehelka, Caravan and MW. It would be wise to treat this book as just that—a selfindulgent act of looking back at the trippy days that were. And be thankful that it is being cleverly told. The Liquid is quite evidently a western tourist’s tale—whether he is backpacking across the Far East or in this tropical mess of a country of ours. His currency and its exchange rate gives him a scope to see the world in relative comfort. And let’s face it, when he walks, he walks along a ‘substance route’. His is a road trip fuelled by drugs and sex, which makes for an interesting read. Somewhere along the way there is that bit of epiphenomena thrown in—problem is unless you care enough about Besseling, this book would not do much for you. However the fact that the book is nostalgic is not problematic. Comparing Besseling’s first attempt to the life-changing work of a certain Hunter S Thompson is. The Liquid follows Besseling on his travels from Varanasi to Tokyo, Amsterdam, Prague, Kathmandu, Chiang Mai, Luang Prabang, Paris, Manali and Kashmir before ending in Nepal. Well yes, if you are thinking drug trail, you are not too far from the truth. Unlike Thomspon’s Fear And Loathing (the jacket makes the reference. So let us harp on this a bit more, shall we?), Besseling’s tone lacks solidity. Which is a disappointment because one hopes he would do better. Both Besseling and Late Hunter Thompson share a passion for trippy substances, interesting routes and eccentric companions. However, is it enough? Can we compare a boat to a fish; both move in water. Besseling is a bit too moored—to pragmatism, his past and to the fact that he is white and privileged to be unique. Result; he ends up sounding like a ‘tourist’, that creed he pokes fun at. Of a Varanasi bar he writes; “The beer is bad. The whole scene is bad… Not the kind of place you’d bring a girl on a date.” You would rather avoid bringing a woman in a bar frequented by men raised in a compartmentalised, patriarchal system with strict ideas/definitions of gendered spaces and leisure? Thou art wise, Master Besseling (you wish to say). The Liquid consists of stories of stomach flues, nostalgia, lassi, Tokyo hotels and stray dogs—not necessarily in that order. At the risk of repeating myself, unless the reader is invested enough, the book will not make sense. But if s/he is, The Liquid’s raw, visceral appeal is clear. (Though for the love of Buddha, I cannot pretend to understand Best selling’s agenda-ish jibes at Buddhism.) The author is a hyperactive man. That aspect comes through clearly in his prose. His descriptions especially of Varanasi can make you cringe and laugh at the same time.
He was a self-confessed glutton. Today, Joymalya Banerjee prefers to force others to pig outA long time ago, in a state by the sea lived a boy who loved to eat. One day, when the boy was five, his mother left him at home and went to the market. Right then his cousin called to say she was coming over—with a friend. It was lunch time. The boy knew his cousin would be famished. And his Ma was not around. Would his cousin and friend go hungry? “My five-year-old self was so fond of eating that I was aghast by the possibility of anyone going hungry. So off I went to the kitchen to cook rice and fish curry like a good, Bengali host. The fish I actually managed. I was sadly mistaken about my expertise in cooking rice. I kept on adding water till the basin was choked. Luckily my mother and cousin arrived at the same time and saved the house from getting flooded,” confesses Chef Joymalya Banerjee, the owner and Chef at Bohemian, a Kolkata restaurant, creating waves in east of India, about his first-time cooking experience. Before we say more about Chef Banerjee, a little note: you could take this Chef out of Bengal but you cannot take Bengal out of him. When they are not eating, people in Bengal pass time planning the next meal. And boy, do they love to talk—mostly about food. A true son of his state, Chef Banerjee, the son of a marine engineer father and a homemaker mother, merrily abandoned every ‘respectable and Bengali’ career possibilities to combine his twin passions; cooking and business. After school, when the good boys were starting their ‘serious’ science and humanities degrees, Banerjee was learning to slice and dice at the Indian Institute of Hotel Management. “Then I went to the Oberoi School of Hotel Management (Delhi) to learn the ropes,” says Chef Banerjee. He completed his degree and started his first venture; a catering-cum-delivery business—the first of its kind in east of India—which was an instant hit. “It has been 10 years that I closed that venture. But, I still get calls asking me whether I still deliver,” he says. The Chef in him might have been ready for the catering venture, but the businessman was far from it. After it flopped, Chef Banerjee decided that he would have to re-learn and re-think and joined Oh! Calcutta, a standalone eatery being run by the Anjan Chatterjee-led Speciality Restaurants. “I was never afraid to experiment. Ever since I can remember I have been cooking,” he adds. So experiment he did— with him as its captain Oh! Calcutta spread across Kolkata, Delhi, Mumbai, Bengaluru and Pune. And he became the mainstay of the restaurant chain. It was there that Banerjee made a name as an artist who loved to play with palates. He finally quit it to pursue his dream of doing something on his own, thus Bohemian. In Bohemian, Chef Banerjee has continued his habit of playing with palates and customers’ minds. Sample this; mutton with baby onions, green mango and cheese served with rice. Pan-baked fish with aam ada (a type of tangy, sweet ginger) sauce. How about prawn with muddled grapes, chillies and coconut; or sorshe (mustard) and coconut souffle. And a Hilsa baked in a crust of boris (lentil dumplings that are dried and then crisp fried)—if it is not fusing flavours then what is? Who mixes chhana (a grainier version of cottage cheese, not as fine as paneer) with paanch phoron (Bengal five spices) to create a souffle? Well, Banerjee does. However, beware; this chef does not like his food to be called ‘fusion’. “There is a reason for it. Like music, to even pretend that you can fuse two separate forms, one has to have an expert. I cannot pretend that I know Bengali or western cooking methods so well that I will manage to creatively splice both and create something novel,” he says. Like all great artists, Banerjee trusts his ingredients and gets to know them thoroughly before he experiments. “I believe that a cook has to research a lot. I have this personal obsession with jaggery. It is no less complicated than wine. Then there is the paanch phoron (five spices) that no Bengali kitchen is complete without. And I love gandharaj (an off-shoot of Kaffir and wild lime).” He loves the lime so much that he has created a gentle, refreshing drink with it and he continues to mix it in most dishes. And Chef Banerjee loves to experiment with the Anglo-Indian cusine. “There was once a sahib who ordered his bawarchi to make a quick dal. The cook did so with three types of lentils, ghee and ginger. But the concoction turned out to be too hot. The cook went back and added the first thing he spotted, apples,” he says about a peculiar dish called dal churchuri. Banerjee admires the cook for his novelty. Though he seems chatty enough, the evolution of food, flavours, taste and local produce gets Banerjee really talking. “Bengal cuisine carries the influence of British, Dutch, French and Arabic tastes. It is evolved enough, but it needs to experiment just a little to meet the new demands.” Chefs like Banerjee are thus trying to give a twist to the bhadralok’s tale with the elders’ blessings. “I always ask senior customers for their inputs. I know the younger people are more open to experimentation. I need to know whether the senior lot—bit more strict about their shukto and shaak (saag)—approve,” he chuckles. Considering that Bohemian has been one of the few restaurants from the east of India which has received a four out of five stars in almost every rating site—he must be doing something right. As one ecstatic fan summed it up, “This kind of food not only comes out of hard work and experience, but also love and respect for each ingredient.”
Cheap travel, food and oodles of appeal—there is more to Bangkok than meets the eye Tell anyone you are going to Thailand and chances are you would get some lewd and leery looks, with comments to match. That’s a cross that the country bears, nay brandishes, with relish. For Thailand is best known as the kingdom of sleaze, a fact that often overwhelms the other charms that the country has to offer. It is also one of the most popular holiday destinations for Indians, given the ease and proximity of travel, the option of a visa on arrival and the fact that the Indian currency goes a long way there. I decided to limit my first trip to Phuket and Bangkok—one for the beaches and the other for what no woman can resist—shopping. There are no direct flights to Phuket, and both Thai Airways and Air Asia offer various daily options. From Phuket, speed boats and ferries can take you to Phi Phi Island and the beach made famous by Leonardo Di Caprio’s movie of the same name, if you wish to get even further away from the bustle of it all. A lot of us in India have become so used to including all our Southeastern neighbours in that group called the ‘developing countries’ that my first impression of Thailand left me quite surprised. So even if the taxi guy made me feel very much at home by refusing to use his meter and demanding an exorbitant sum to take me to the hotel, the drive itself revealed clean roads, orderly traffic, visible road signs and none of the chaos that you would associate with what was long called the ‘Third World’. Thailand can put India to shame as far as basic civic sense is concerned. Garbage is neatly collected, and even though it is no Singapore, the fact that the government has decided to co-opt street vendors into sharing the tourism boom by allowing them to peddle their wares in almost every nook and cranny, has ensured that you can dig into a baby sea horse or a fresh watermelon slice with wild abandon. Talking of baby sea horses, and this being my first trip to the exotic Far-east, sometimes it was difficult not to gag at the choices on offer in the various carts that line the streets and beach fronts. From fried centipedes to crispy grasshoppers, strange culinary delights lie neatly arranged in carts and trays, with some spicy accompaniments to go. Thankfully, every Thai meal is loaded with vegetables and, contrary to what one might expect, vegetarians are happy people here. That said, even though Thailand is crawling with tourists all year round, if you wish to hold a conversation that goes beyond “how much” and basic pleasantries, you have your task cut out for you. You are pleasantly greeted everywhere with the traditional Thai greeting Sawasdee Kha (or Khap, if the person offering the greeting is a man), uttered with musically- extended syllables. English spelling is definitely not their forte and shops proudly display signs for ‘chikin’ refusing to use his meter and demanding an exorbitant sum to take me to the hotel, the drive itself revealed clean roads, orderly traffic, visible road signs and none of the chaos that you would associate with what was long called the ‘Third World’. Thailand can put India to shame as far as basic civic sense is concerned. Garbage is neatly collected, and even though it is no Singapore, the fact that the government has decided to co-opt street vendors into sharing the tourism boom by allowing them to peddle their wares in almost every nook and cranny, has ensured that you can dig into a baby sea horse or a fresh watermelon slice with wild abandon. Talking of baby sea horses, and this being my first trip to the exotic Far-east, sometimes it was difficult not to gag at the choices on offer in the various carts that line the streets and beach fronts. From fried centipedes to crispy grasshoppers, strange culinary delights lie neatly arranged in carts and trays, with some spicy accompaniments to go. Thankfully, every Thai meal is loaded with vegetables and, contrary to what one might expect, vegetarians are happy people here. That said, even though Thailand is crawling with tourists all year round, if you wish to hold a conversation that goes beyond “how much” and basic pleasantries, you have your task cut out for you. You are pleasantly greeted everywhere with the traditional Thai greeting Sawasdee Kha (or Khap, if the person offering the greeting is a man), uttered with musically- extended syllables. English spelling is definitely not their forte and shops proudly display signs for ‘chikin’ But the cheap beer is wonderfully real, and is also served in convenient five-litre beer towers for the discerning drinker. Ask for a pint, and they’ll serve it to you in a ‘beer condom’, that fits snugly over the bottom of the bottle. Chang is the local brand and the best way to enjoy it is with steaming hot skewers that are charcoal grilled on small improvised scooter carts. Patong beach in Phuket—with its buttery soft sands—borders the bustling shopping area. It changes moods as the sun goes down, transforming itself into a nocturnal hub, offering everything from pole dances to some mind-boggling circus tricks performed by women in various stages of undress in ‘ping-pong bars’ that are a local variation of the go-go clubs of yore. Also unique to Thailand are the ‘ladyboys’, scores of men who have opted to cross over the gender divide, and many of whom work in regular jobs, while others can be found jostling with the crowds in stunning dresses and impossibly high heels. The sad part is that a nation that seems to have made smiling its national motto of sorts, masks disturbing socio-cultural trends, given that it is considered rather synonymous with sleaze. You see the obsession with it everywhere, from massage parlours that are open through the night and only accept male clients to carts selling every imaginable sex aid and performance enhancer’ possible, to girls as young as 13 or 14 teetering precariously in high heels or wielding numbers in a bar, as if up for a macabre auction. This, despite the fact that prostitution in Thailand is actually illegal! It’s difficult to remember that when standing in a bar where bikini-clad women bear numbers to be easily selected and whisked away from nightclubs by paying what is called a ‘bar fine’. There’s more of the same in Bangkok, with the famous ‘Cowboy Street’ in Sukhamvit and the redlight district of Patpong, which is also a great place to get some knock-offs at a bargain during the night market. Bangkok is a shoppers’ paradise, with malls that tempt you with their wholesale approach, where floors and floors are lined with imitation handbags, jewellery and designer clothes designed to reward the generous shopper with bulk rates. It’s easy to lose track of the bahts (Thai currency) in your wallet. The traffic in Bangkok is merciless, with jams that would put Mumbai or Delhi to shame. But hop into a ‘tuktuk’— Thailand’s answer to our auto rickshaws—and chances are you’ll beat a car to the same destination by half an hour! They’re not for the fainthearted as they weave in and out of traffic, making a mockery of speed limits and small engines. Bangkok is also home to some of the most beautiful Buddhist art and sculptures, which are tributes to different periods and styles. There is the magnificent and awe-inspiring ‘Reclining Buddha’—a majestic 160 feet statue at Wat Pho temple; the diminutive ‘Emerald Buddha’ at the Grand Palace and the ‘Golden Buddha’ at Wat Traimit that was legendarily plastered over and then accidently discovered to be made of gold almost two centuries later. If you do take the day-long Buddha tour, don’t forget to stop at the vibrant flower market near Chinatown and the even more famous floating market in the Ratchaburi Province. When you travel around Thailand, you can’t help noticing that the King’s picture is on billboards everywhere, playing the saxophone and doing countless other ‘cool’ things you’re less likely to see politicians in India publicise. In fact, when I commented to one of my guides that the Thais sure liked their King, she was quick to correct me and point out that the word I was looking for was ‘love’. The pride of the people in a monarchy they love is palpable in the pride they take in being Thais, no matter what their socio-economic strata. That, to me, was the most beautiful thing about Thailand, visible in the care that its people take to make sure you’re made to feel so welcome.
POLITICS \\ Union Finance Minister Pranab Mukherjee was named the UPA’s presidential candidate last month. The 77-year-old veteran politician’s name was announced by Congress president Sonia Gandhi at a meeting of Congress leaders and its partners DMK, RLD, NCP, NC and IUML. The decision came after a lot of speculation and chaos. West Bengal Chief Minister Mamata Banerjee and Samajwadi Party supremo Mulayam Singh Yadav gave a blow to the Congress after rejecting the proposed Presidential candidates and giving their support to Former President A.P.J. Abdul Kalam. While BJP was busy garnering support for PA Sangma, the Samajwadi Party minutes after the announcement of Pranab Da’s candidature expressed their undisputed support towards him. He gave in his resignation on June 26 and said that it was an “emotional moment” for him. The two presidential candidates have filed in their nominations, however with all the support Pranab Da’s getting the route to the Rashtrapati Bhawan seems like a cakewalk for him.
SPORTS \\ ‘King of clay’ Rafael Nadal and ‘comeback queen’ Maria Sharapova were crowned the French Open Champions in June. This is Rafael Nadal's seventh French Open title as he defeated the World No. 1 Novak Djokovic 6-4, 6-3, 2-6, 7-5 in a match that lasted for 50 minutes. Maria Sharapova who was sidelined in 2008 after an injury to her right shoulder beat surprise finalist Sara Errani of Italy 6-3, 6-2, to win her first French Open and become the tenth woman with a career Grand Slam. Nadal overpowered his opponent with his terrific groundstrokes. Djokovic who fought bravely lost his serve twice in the nine games played, while Nadal gave away only three points of his own delivery. There was a brief shower which threatened to drive players off the court during the fourth set, when the score was standing As Nadal went on a rampage and kept getting closer to the title as the crowd cheered the opponent, with the hope that they might be able to enjoy the fifth set showdown. Djokovic responded to the cheering crowd by playing more and more aggressively, trying to dictate points with his forehand, but he could not stop Nadal from bringing up the match point and finally winning the title. Nadal has won seven out of his eight French Open Championships, losing only one time to Robin Soderling. The Spanish Matador came back with vengeance in 2010, defeating Soderling 6–4, 6–2, 6–4 to win the French Open. His 2012 victory at Roland Garros marked the second time (2008) that Nadal had won the French Open without dropping a single set. The 25-year-old Russian tennis player Maria Sharapova’s future suddenly came in doubt after the shoulder surgery which kept her out of the courtyards for a long time. Sharapova won her first Grand Slam—The Wimbledon—at the age of 17. At the age of 18 she became the world No.1, when she turned 19 she won the US Open Championship and at 20 she was the Australian Open Champion. But after the 2008 injury her rank fell to 126. She did not play any matches from August 2008 till May 2009. In the little French that she had learnt in three months while she was away from her practice, Sharapova said, “It is a wonderful moment in my career.” She then switched to English and said, “I am speechless. It has been such a journey for me to get to this stage.” With a rebuilt shoulder she whipped big serves. Sharapova’s forehands and backhands fell right on line. Moving beautifully on the red surface she beat her Italian opponent and won her first French Open Title ever. The Russian star is a contender to carry the Russian Flag at the opening ceremony for the 2012 Olympic Games.
DEMISE// Legend Mehdi Hassan dies: Ghazal maestro who lent his voice to Patta Patta Boota Boota and Kab Ke Bichhare expired in June at the age of 84 due to multiple organ failure. The India-born, Pakistani Ghazal singer had been admitted to the Agha Khan Hospital, Karachi, and was kept on a ventilator.
MISHAP \\ A major explosion and fire broke out at the state-owned Visakhapatnam Steel Plant killing around 15 people. According to plant sources, the explosion occurred at the oxygen control unit near the steel melting shop at the Rashtriya Ispat Nigam Limited’s plant. While the cause of the explosion was not made clear, it was indicated that the blast could have been due to a technical ‘glitch’ at the unit and due to abnormal build-up of pressure within the unit. Nine people were declared dead on the spot and approximately 15 more people were injured in the accident. Six people were declared dead on the site, while three died on their way to the steel plant’s general hospital. Andhra CM N. Kiran Kumar Reddy expressed his “shock and anguish” over the matter and ordered an inquiry under the Factory Act. The joint chief inspector of factories will conduct the inquiry while the director of factories were also asked to look into the matter, according to Information and Public Relations Commissioner, R.V. Chandravadan.
SPORTS \\ Grandmaster Viswanathan Anand beat challenger Boris Gelfand of Israel in a nail-biting tie-breaker to win the World Chess Championships for the fifth time since 2007. Anand won the second game, and drew the other three, to win the title at the State Tretyakov Gallery. The finale ended 2.5-1.5 in Anand’s favour after a 6-6 deadlock in 12 games. This victory means that Anand will keep his crown till 2014, when the next World Championship will be held. “The match was so even that I had no sense of what shape the tiebreak would take. Right now the only feeling to have is relief. I am too tense to be happy, I am relieved,” Anand said in the post-match conference. The King had won his first world title in 2000 before winning three in a row in 2007, 2008 and 2010. Anand will get (approx) $1.4 million, 55 per cent of the total prize fund of $2.55 million, while Gelfand will get the remaining amount.
Citizens feel the heat as the oil hike hits hardPOLITICS \\ Petrol prices were increased by `7.50 a litre in May, leading to furore among automibile owners in all metros. The hike was inevitable as the rupee fell a record life low of `56 per dollar in May. State-owned oil companies decided to raise petrol prices by `6.28 per litre excluding local sales tax and VAT. With the taxes, the hike came to `7.50 per litre. Prior to the hike, petrol costs in the national capital was `65.64 a litre. Currently, it costs `70.24 per litre. Already, oil companies have informed the government about their need to increase the petrol prices by `4 at least. The last petrol price hike happened in November 2011even though the Centre had ‘decontrolled’ petrol prices in June 2010. The price of diesel, kerosene and cooking gas were also raise in June 2011. Stateowned oil firms lost a total sum of `4,860 crore on petrol sales at the end of the 2012 fiscal. Even after the price hike they are losing around `6.28 per litre on petrol. The petrol rates in various cities after the hike are: Delhi—`70.24 per litre; Mumbai—`76.45; Kolkata—`75.81 and in Chennai it is to be `75.40. Inflation also rose 7.55 per cent in May because of the rising prices of the petrol and vegetables.
To you, it could be the ‘idiot box’. But to me, growing up in a village (approximately) four kilometres off the coast of Balasore, Orissa, it was so much more. I first heard of a device called television while I was in school, as we read about it in class; about television’s history, its first programmes, etc. I remember being smitten by the box that ran on electricity—which was another wonder. The bulb and ceiling fan were alien devices that were not a part of my growing up years. Since my home also was half-a-kilometre from the sea shore, I did not care much about artificial coolers. I got to live in the ‘lap of luxury’ from 1988 when I joined my elder brother in Mizoram, simply put, there we had electricity. My elder brother was a professor of political studies at North-Eastern Hill University (NEHU). I was depended on him for my further studies. Though I was a humanities student, my brother’s association with NEHU enabled me to get into the university’s electronics department where I completed my diploma. Growing up without electricity, it was ironical that I took up electronics as a topic of specialisation. Perhaps that was the reason why I did what I did, in order to fill a gap left in my childhood. My diploma in electronics got me a step closer to my dream of eventually doing something in the television and media industry. At that time I did not know what I was meant to do exactly. But I knew that I was in love with the medium. It was this conviction which made me appear for tests for the Film and Television Institution, (FTII) Pune. There I concentrated on television, documentary and film making courses. Most of my life I may have spoken Oriya, but I have always taken the effort to learn new languages. In Mizoram, I learnt Mizo Twang and much later, made two documentaries in that language. I have loved challenges—if they made it sound hard, I had to do it. My admission into FTII was the final stop towards a fulfilled career in media and journalism. I loved the two main types of programmes that were shown on television—documentaries and teleserials. The first teleserial that I ever watched was Kachche Dhoop, directed by Amol Palekar. It which to be aired on Sunday mornings between 10am and 11am. In 1995, I entered the hallowed halls of Doordarshan. For most students it would have been a dream job. To me it was fruition of all my hard work, dreams, aspirations—it was a journey which began in Madanapore and ended in the capital of the country. There I was the producer and concept in-charge. I had arrived. Soon my colleague and I were commissioned to start DD Sports. Albeit I was not interested in sports, I took it up as a challenge. As I have said before—if it seems impossible then I love to take it on. I took the concept of a sports channel further. I incorporated new ideas—such as India’s first-ever morning aerobic and exercise programme. It became a rage and completed 150 episodes. It was in that programme that I introduced a relatively unknown model called Neha Dhupia as the anchor. She later went on to win the Miss India crown and became a Hindi film heroine. Though Doordarshan was great after a while I started to feel restless there. The work was becoming easier, predictable and there were less and less daily challenges. What I could do there, I had done. I had successfully launched a sports channel, I had several documentaries to my credit and had risen through the ranks. That was when I saw two advertisements—one of them asking for camera experts for a non-government organisation called Aina Media and Culture Centre. The centre endeavoured to strengthen civil society through education and empowerment of women and children. It also trained men and women in communication and information skills. It was fascinating to note that National Geographic Fellow and worldrenowned photojournalist, Reza Deghati, was the man behind Aina. The minute I saw the advertisement, I knew this was just the challenge I was seeking. But there was a problem. How would I convince my father? I had the cushiest job in Doordarshan. And there I was, dreaming of Afghanistan and making a new beginning in a war-torn nation. I took the easy way out—I lied. I informed my father that I was being sent off on an assignment and would be back in a matter of days. I have often regretted the lie—even though my father is rather proud of my choice today—but never the decision to pack up and go. Because Aina has been the biggest adventure that I have ever had. Aina began operations in Kabul exactly three days after the Taliban regime fell and till date, it has trained some 1,000 women and men in media and communication skills. I believe that we have been fortunate enough that more than 90 per cent of our employees have found meaningful employment. The organisation also runs eight publications—two for women and one for children. We regularly shoot documentaries and short feature films. One of our short features produced by an all-female team (a first in Afghanistan) was nominated for an Emmy in 2005. My first assignment in Aina was to train apprentices in video photography. I remember when for the first time an all-women camera crew visited a rural area to film, there was a mild furore. But it all died away as they became more and more familiar with the sight of us. My trainees and I meant business. The team of women were dedicated to their tasks. As time passed, and I became more involved in Aina’s functions, my colleagues encouraged me to use my expertise—direct teleserials in this country. Before I embark on that story, a little needs to be said about Afghan people. Irrespective of which part of the country they may come from—all love a good cry. That is why Bollywood and Indian television serials have such a presence in that country. They adore the good-versus-evil theme. To them, a family is equally important. They love the exaggerated rituals, rows, drama and joy of Indian television and the silver screen. So, my team and I conceptualised the first teleserial as a family drama. The core subject of women emancipation is a hard story to narrate in any patriarchal society—it was doubly difficult in Afghanistan. We coated the bitter pill with laughter—my team and I decided to make a comedy. We thought about using the struggle of a woman doctor to drive home the point of emancipation among male and female viewers subtlely. People always ask me whether it is very difficult to work in Aghanistan—I say a yes and a no. Language poses a problem. I was not familiar with the several dialects of the country as I am now. At the beginning the citizens were wary of strangers like me. And then, there were the ‘difficult’ people. But such problems exist everywhere— I would have faced them all over the world. Instead of mulling over the negatives, one needs to see beyond; lessons that this war-torn country offers to everyone willing to lend a sympathetic ear. It is inspirational to see people fight for their freedom of expression every day. The stories inspired me to write my latest teleserial— Palwasha, which means the sun’s first rays. I thought of it laying on my bed, watching the rising sun and hearing the day’s first azan. Granted, making a teleserial in Afghanistan is not easy. One needs to be mindful of religious sensitivities. Despite problems when we get the viewers’ endorsement—it is that much sweeter. And Palwasha, the story of a woman who rises to be a lawyer fighting for women’s rights, has received that stamp of approval. We have not dumped a ‘dull story’ on our viewers. The story is about the need to trust a legal system based on Shariat and Quran laws. Like Indians, Afghans too resort to kangaroo courts for quicker settlement of local matters. Our message is hidden under layers of masala— music, action replays, reverberating dialogues, tears and tense drama. As I said earlier, Afghans love a good cry. So far, Palwasha has been aired in Dari and Pashto with 40 per cent of the funding coming in from Usaid. We have cast Mumbai-based actor Sonal Udeshi in the main role. We also flew in our technical, make-up and sound teams from Mumbai. The popularity of the three teleserials produced and directed by us has taken us by surprise. Only 10 to 15 per cent of Afghanistan has electricity being produced from hydroelectric power. For those who don’t have supply, homes and TVs are run by diesel generators. Yet, Kabul stops when these serials come on air.