Archive for December, 2010
A few times a year, I’m subjected to watching a Bollywood film on one of Sky’s Asian channels. Last year, I was suitably impressed with Jodhaa Akbar and again with last night’s choice of Baghban. I may not be a regular Bollywood films enthusiast, but I immediately recognised the main character in Baghban, it was played by one of Bollywood’s finest A-list stars, Amitabh Bachchan, so I immediately knew it was going to be good.
Baghban is a Hindi film about a husband (Raj played by Amitabh Bachchan), his wife (Pooja) and their four sons. As selfless parents, Raj & Pooja foresake their own desires as a couple, and instead spend their money on educating their four sons, in the hope that each of them can have a good life. One day, a poor young child (Alok) comes up to Raj offering to clean his shoes. Raj takes pity on Alok, who’s an orphan, and provides money for his school fees. Years later, Alok has turned from an orphan with no prospects to a successful man; he worships Raj for his help and being the father that he never had.
By now Raj is an old man and retires from his job. Him and Pooja now look to their four sons to look after them, as they didn’t save any money for their retirement, instead Raj spent his money on educating his sons. The sons are all grown up, married and have good jobs. Raj & Pooja have no money to stay in their home, so have to move in with their sons. Instead of being kept together, they are separated with different sons who consider them a burden. Their sons wives dislike having them in their house, and the sons side with their wives rather than their mother and father. Whilst Raj & Pooja are separated, they both miss each other terribly (it’s romantic to think that after years of marriage that a couple still have that much affection for each other). So, Raj starts typing his thoughts of being separated from Pooja, but his son’s wife dislikes the noise of his typewriter and is told to stop. By luck Raj makes friends with a married couple who own a cafe, who become fond of Raj and allow him to come into their cafe anytime to type away.
One day the couple that own the cafe become so taken by Raj’s unhappiness from being separated from Pooja, that they give him money so that they can go away for a short trip together. For once, Raj & Pooja enjoy being able to do couple things like staying alone in a nice hotel, going for a romantic dinner. As their trip comes to an end, Raj realises that he can’t bear for them to go back to living separately with their sons, but Pooja reminds Raj that they don’t have the money to survive. Whilst pondering what to do, Raj & Pooja spot an ice-cream stall, and like heady teenagers, stroll around with ice-creams and end up at a car showroom, where Raj admires the cars on display.
It’s by chance that they bump into Alok (the orphan) who owns the car showroom. Alok had been searching for Raj & Pooja for ages, but didn’t know about Raj’s predicament. Alok is beyond happy to be reunited with Raj, and invites him & Pooja to his home. Unlike Raj & Pooja’s son’s wives, Alok’s wife (who’s ridiculously stunning) is delighted to meet them and bows to their feet. Alok makes sure that Raj sits at the head of the table, as he thinks of Raj as his father, a man that he respects. Alok insists that Raj & Pooja live with them, but Raj is adamant that he wants a place for just him and his wife. Before he leaves, Alok surprises Raj with the gift of the car he’d admired at his showroom.
Raj, Pooja, Alok and his wife go to see Raj’s old home. Suddenly they’re greeted by Raj’s friends (the couple that own the cafe). Unbeknown to Raj, the cafe couple read his written work regarding his feelings about being separated from his wife and the treatment of his sons to them, and submitted it to a publisher. The book was named Baghban (“Gardener”) and became a huge success – unsurprisingly, but we all love a happy ending 🙂
Raj’s sons & their wives read an article in the newspaper regarding Raj’s book and his success, and with rupee signs in their eyes decide to turn up to a special evening for Raj which is hosted in his honour. Raj gets up and asks that his son comes and makes a speech, so his eldest gets up until he hears his father say the name Alok. Alok gets up and thanks Raj for making him the success that he is now, and then Raj does his speech regarding his disappointment that him & his wife gave all their money, love & affection to their other sons, only to be treated without respect. His sons beg their father for forgiveness, but Raj & Pooja shun them. They disown their ‘real’ sons, and although he’s not blood-related think that Alok is a real son to them. Raj & Pooja can finally go back to their home.
I enjoy films that you can relate to. As I get older, I appreciate the sacrifices that my dad made to ensure that my brothers & I had a good education. Good parents are those that put their children first, but equally good children must respect and look after their parents. I used to think that my dad was pushy when he kept trying to enthuse me with Maths as a child, now I think I’d do the same if I had kids. I like the values of Asian culture, look at Chinese & Indian children, their incredibly bright, because their parents push them to work harder. Conversely, in Western society, we’re obcessed with footballers who get paid an obscene amount of money, and countless talent shows about being famous, and our education system in the UK is poor. When I read a newspaper, I want real news not some expose on who’s cheated on who – I really don’t give a ****
The story of Raj, Pooja & his sons made me think of an elderly couple that are neighbours of mine. They’re in their eighties, very chatty, but are frail. They have one son that lives in America with his family, but he never calls his parents or comes to see them. So, I go round and help them with their shopping and chat with them. I don’t want anything in return, I’m just fond of them. The sweetest thing was when they said that they’d wished I was their daughter – sometimes blood isn’t thicker than water 🙂
I find that I can spend hours walking through the wide open leafy spaces of Hyde Park. With a backdrop of natural beauty, this park brings back fond memories of studying for my university exams, and romance – it used to be a meetup place for a guy called Henry that I had a massive crush on. It’s also the perfect location to take photographs, and the one above is my favourite photo.
I didn’t sleep well last night. I had a call from a close friend who told me that her sister had been rejected from getting a place on a teachers training course.
I was shocked as I knew her sister well. Incredibly bright, having achieved a first-class degree in Mathematics, but not only that she came top out of all students. I understand that it’s not all about being academic, but she also had 6 months voluntary teaching experience in a school. My friend even told me that the headmaster of that school had told her sister that she was far too bright to be a teacher!
During the interview process, the interviewer kept referring to my friend’s sister as ‘Patel’ which is her surname. The interviewer at no point addressed her in the correct manner of Miss Patel but simply Patel – how patronising, I thought. I know sometimes it can be easy to pull out the ‘race’ card, but I couldn’t see why she wouldn’t get a place. Even one of her university lecturers told her that she was the best Maths student he’s ever come across. She’s polite, and passionate about education.
Not meaning to be rude, but how many people can get a first with distinction in arguably one of the hardest degree disciplines? Of those that do, how many want to be teachers (answer is none)? Most top graduates want to work in finance earning lots of money, she on the otherhand genuinely wants to help educate secondary school children.
Only recently did I read an article whose title was ‘Western Nations React to Poor Education Results’ – an international respected survey conducted found that teenagers in Shanghai to be the best educated in the world, and the British to be poor in comparison. We are poor in Mathematics & Science, in fact there are a shortage of teachers in these diciplines, yet we are happy to turn away first-class graduates who are passionate about teaching & education – can someone explain why, I don’t get it?
Luckily this is her first interview she has a few others yet, but quite rightly she feels dejected. I think she would be better off with applying for the Teach First scheme.
My advice that I passed on was that after she’s finished her other interviews, that she writes a letter of complaint to that particular university eloquently pointing out that she felt the interviewer was racist (that particular area has a low ethnic minority).
I felt appalled that in what I thought is a civilised country, racism still exists at all levels. I spoke with my dad, and he said it doesn’t matter how good you are, there will always be racist people who will prevent you from getting to the top. My dad is a first-class graduate, and a specialist in his field, but he said that he’s come across racism in his career. The worst he says are the Scots and the best people to work for are the Americans; but as I told my dad you can’t generalise and not every Scot is racist! I’ve never been the subject of racism, but I’ve heard colleagues make jokes about black people and Muslims. I maybe British born, educated at world-class universities, hard-working, brilliant at my job; but the colour of my skin is not White – does that mean that I’m not really British?
Ultimately we’re all human beings regardless of whether we’re classified as Black, Caucasian, Asian, Hispanic, Pacific Islander, Other (if you’re mixed). Why is it though that views of race are still causing considerable suffering to the disadvantaged racial groups?
After studying hard these last couple of months, I’m planning to devote more time to activities that I enjoy in 2011, starting with photography. Firstly I’ll be investing in a better SLR camera + lenses (hopefully the January sales will prove fruitful), and then will book a short break to a place where I’ve always wanted to visit – The Gower. A few people have mentioned The Gower is absolutely beautiful and perfect for a short break; combining two things I love – walking & nature photography.
After browsing Gower photos on Flickr (these two stunning photos were taken by Geoff Mock, click on photos for a larger view), I can see why it appeals to a photographer. The Gower (Penrhyn Gwyr) is a peninsula on the south west coast of Wales, and in 1956 was designated an area of outstanding natural beauty – it’s not hard to see why!
Jinnah: India- Partition- Independence by Jaswant Singh, originally uploaded by South Asian Foreign Relations.
I first watched the film Gandhi with my dad when I was a young child.
Despite my youth, I remember being transfixed to the screen and feeling nothing but admiration for Gandhi’s struggle. The film scene that is still etched in my memory is when Gandhi is fasting to protest against the violence of the Muslims & Hindus killing each other. A distressed Hindu man arrives with food and then subsequently confesses to Gandhi that he killed a Muslim boy in retaliation for his son being killed by the Muslims. Gandhi sees the Hindu mans grief/remorse and suggests that he adopts a Muslim boy whose parents have been killed and raises him as a Muslim not Hindu. The moral was that the true test of redemption was to learn to love his ‘enemy’, and that did not have to mean forsaking his own religion, but to lose his hatred and become an understanding, tolerant Hindu – such a thought provoking scene.
Once the film had finished, I recall tears coming from my dad’s eyes, in fact it’s one of the few times that I’ve ever seen him cry. For him the film was poignant, as he was a Muslim born in India and was a small child during the partition. He remembers walking for days at a time without food, being separated from his parents (not knowing whether they were dead or alive), seeing dead bodies along his journey, wondering whether he would survive, and after all that having to start all over again in the newly formed Pakistan.
After failing to find the old video, I decided to buy the DVD from Amazon, because this is such a wonderful historical film that engages viewers to appreciate the complexities of mankind, and what a difference one person can make. The film won 8 Oscars and was number 34 in The British Film Institutes top 100 favourite British films of the 20th Century. The acting is superb, particularly Ben Kingsley’s portrayal of Gandhi. My dad rates this as one of his favourite films, even if it does make him cry!
I now understand why my dad made me first watch this film all those years ago. One of Gandhi’s quotes succinctly sums this up (he was speaking of the conflict between Hindus and Muslims):
“Religions are different roads converging to the same point. What does it matter that we take a different road, so long as we reach the same goal. Wherein is the cause for quarreling?”
My close friend (who lives in Malaysia) recently complained that she’s bored of receiving emails and text messages, instead she’d love a hand-written letter.
It occurred to me that I hadn’t hand-written a letter since my early teens. I used to write regularly to my dad whose occupation resulted in travelling to remote parts of the world for much of his working life – the telephone lines weren’t good where he was, so letters were the only form of communication. Writing to my friend just brought those warm memories back.
With an email or typed letter, you can edit it as many times as you wish before you send. I concede that with writing it’s a little frustrating when you’ve made a spelling-mistake or forgotten to add a point, of course there’s always the handy tipex, but being a perfectionist, would rather tear up the page and start all over again!
Once I got started on my letter, I found that I couldn’t stop, in fact ended up writing four pages. At the end, I felt rather proud of my achievement, it’s all to easy to text or email, but taking the time to write to someone properly shows that you care. Luckily for me, I’m blessed with clear, legible hand-writing. Years ago, someone told me that illegible hand-writing is a sign of intelligence – I told him I didn’t subscribe to such a notion, and that the whole point is being able to decipher what’s written, it’s called COMMUNICATION!
The good old days are gone, with computers being commonplace, I can’t imagine that todays children properly learn the art of handwriting, perhaps only when writing their Christmas list to Santa 🙂 Yes, it’s old fashioned, but if someone I knew wrote me a hand-written letter or note, I’d feel rather touched.
I may have forgotten the art of handwriting, but I’m still old fashioned when it comes to communicating with good friends. Yes, I have a mobile, but most of the time it’s switched off. I only really have it as a form of contact for work, and it’s a convenient means of letting someone know you’re running late for an appointment or vice versa. To be honest, I could live without my mobile, and I like the feeling of not being contactable 24/7 – a chance to escape from modern day life… Whilst friends and work colleagues obcess over their latest new iPhone, I look at them with dismay. The worst form of comunication is texting (and the reason I dislike mobiles); both receiving and sending. Now it seems we’ve forgotten the art of speaking!
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