shevlin's world

Dag Goering has spent the past several years trying to save elephants in India, many parts of Asia and Africa

Photo by Melton Antony

By Shevlin Sebastian

In 2007, Canadian veterinarian Dr. Dag Goering was in Jaipur, along with his wife, the writer Maria Coffey. They were visiting a NGO called ‘Help in Suffering’, which helps animals in distress. Suddenly, there was a telephone call. An elephant was about to give birth at the Amar Fort, 11 kms away. This was the first time in 50 years that such an event was happening in Rajasthan. The mahouts, understandably, were nervous. So Dag, along with another doctor, went to see the birthing process.

“The calf was perfectly fine,” says Dag. “But it was helpless, like a human baby, and could not control the trunk, which kept rotating.” As he stared fascinated, one of the elephants gripped Dag's wrist with its trunk and pulled him up. “I suddenly found myself staring into the eyes of the elephant,” says Dag. “There was intelligence and all kinds of emotions in them. I could sense another world. It was a magical experience.” As the elephant set him down, Dag had an epiphany: he wanted to spend the rest of his life working with them.

The couple set up an organisation called Elephant Initiative. “The aim is to make the world a better place for captive as well as wild elephants,” he says. They have worked extensively in Kenya, Laos, Thailand and now India. At Kochi, sometime ago, Dag had set up a photographic exhibition, ‘Elephant Enigma: A Journey Into The World of Giants’. There are photos of the mammals drinking from a water source, playing with calves, going for a walk in the jungle, and washing themselves in the river, using their trunks.

The elephant's trunk is unusual. “It is a nose,” says Dag. “And it also feeds with it.” The trunk has 40,000 muscles. That is why it takes a long time to coordinate the muscles. The trunk is also used as a weapon, like a battering ram. It becomes a snorkel when swimming underwater. The elephant also uses it to make sounds, like a trumpet or a deep rumble.

Elephants are similar to humans because they also go on dates with each other. “In fact, smell plays a big role in dating,” says Dan. “They will put the tip of their trunks in the other one's mouth. That is because they have a tasting organ in the mouth. Or they will touch the body.” If there is a mutual understanding, the couple will wander off and spend days together. Interestingly, like humans, elephants a strong sense of family.”

In fact, elephants have a matriarchal society. The matriarch is the one who passes knowledge to the younger ones. And she has a long memory. If there is a drought somewhere in Africa, the chances are the oldest one will remember the last big drought thirty years ago. And she will know where to go to get water. In fact, a study has revealed that the herd with the oldest matriarch is likely to survive than one where the matriarch has been killed.

“The poachers kill the matriarch because, among African elephants she has the biggest tusks,” says Dag. “Around 10 percent of the population is killed every year. So the future looks bleak.”

In India, also, there are many deaths due to human-elephant conflicts. “There is so much pressure of space, because of the huge human population,” says Dag. “The elephants do not have the land to move about. So they attack human habitats for food.”

Nevertheless, despite this, India has an elephant population of 20,000. “It is astounding that there are so many,” says Dag. “But the country has everything from bears to leopards. It just shows that the people care about animals and that is really heartening.”

However, what is not heartening is that, in order to gain control of these mammals, man has used brutality. In most parts of Asia, when an elephant is captured it is put in isolation. “This is akin to solitary confinement,” he says. “The elephant is deprived of sleep. Then loud music is played. In the end, beatings are administered, till the spirit of the animal is broken.”

But because they have been traumatised, elephants can become unpredictable and dangerous. “At some point, it can attack the mahout,” says Dag. “There are many cases like that in Kerala. The best way is to develop positive and loving methods of training, like operant conditioning, when they are initially captured. My aim is to introduce this in India.”

(The New Indian Express, Kochi and Thiruvananthapuram)

COLUMN: Spouse's Turn

Usha talks about life with the politician Mulappally Ramachandran

Photo by TP Sooraj

By Shevlin Sebastian

When Usha was a young woman she never dreamt of marrying a politician. “I felt that most of them were uneducated and corrupt,” she says. So, when one of her uncles, Narayanan, brought a proposal about a full-time politician, naturally, Usha was hesitant. “But I was told that Mulappally Ramachandran was not a 'normal' politician,” says Usha. “He was an upright and educated person, who had done his MA and LLB.”

At that time, in 1984, Usha was based in Panjim, Goa, where she worked as a law officer in the Syndicate Bank. However, because her father had a mild heart attack, she returned to her home town of Kozhikode for a short visit. So, she agreed to meet Ramachandran.

They met on a sunny day in June. Being the typical politician that he was, Ramachandran was dressed in a white shirt and mundu. And one of the first things he told Usha was that he had called on her father at the hospital. Ramachandran said, “I think your daddy is out of danger.”

Usha was touched that Ramachandran took the trouble to meet her father.

Apart from being touched, Usha was also impressed. “I felt that he was a person who could take charge of me,” she says. “Ramachandran had a capacity for leadership. Many of the men I had met till then were not what I expected them to be, but he was different.”

The attraction was mutual. The marriage took place on September 13, 1984, at the Tagore Centenary Hall in Kozhikode. “The most memorable event was the presence of Chief Minister K Karunakaran,” says Usha. “He was at loggerheads with my husband. So we thought he would not come.” But five minutes before the muhurtham began, there was a message that the chief minister was coming. The roads were cleared, and Karunakaran arrived just in time to give Usha the wedding garland, that was to be exchanged with Ramachandran.

“I had promised your husband a long time ago that I would do this duty,” Karunakaran told Usha.

However, the couple had no time to go on a honeymoon. The next morning, Ramachandran had to rush off to Thiruvananthapuram because Congress President Rajiv Gandhi was arriving. “Later, Ramachandran told me that Rajiv pulled him up for leaving me behind,” says Usha.

On October 31, Prime Minister Indira Gandhi was assassinated. Thereafter, the Lok Sabha elections were held. Ramachandran stood from Kannur and won and then had to go to Delhi. “All this happened within two months of our marriage,” says Usha.

Later, Usha got a transfer from Panjim to Mangalore and would meet her husband on weekends. And life went on.

Asked about his qualities, Usha says, “I admire his honesty, sincerity and his compassion for the marginalised sections of society. The people of his constituency always came first. Initially I would feel upset, but now I have accepted it as a politician's duty.”

Another quality is Ramachandran's desire to develop others. “There have been many people who were against him, but he has enabled them to grow, especially if he spotted a leadership quality,” says Usha. “It is something that I could not understand, but I regard it as a lovely trait.”

However, there have been times when Ramachandran has got irritated with Usha, because she has not been able to recognise the people in the constituency. “Unlike Ramachandran, I meet them once a year or so,” she says. “He knows everybody by name including his classmates and is close to them.”

Ramachandran is also close to their only child, daughter Parvathy, 21, who is doing her MA (Political science), following her BA Hons. (history) in Jesus and Mary College at New Delhi. “Ramachandran's subject is history and so is hers,” says Usha. “They have a lot in common. It is because of her that Ramachandran took us to visit countries like South Korea, Hongkong, Mozambique, the United Arab Emirates and South Africa.”

At Pietermaritzburg, in South Africa, they saw the station where Mahatma Gandhi was thrown out of a first-class cabin, and the jail, at Johannesburg, where he spent a lot of time. “The jail was being maintained as it was, to show how the prisoners had suffered,” says Usha. “There were small dormitories where several people were confined. We were told that the toilets at the corner of the room overflowed often. And there were separate cooking facilities for blacks, coloureds and whites. There was so much of discrimination in those days.”

Finally, when asked to give tips for a successful marriage, Usha says, “There is a lot of give and take in a marriage. Don't expect everything to be a bed of roses. Learn to sacrifice for the happiness of your partner. And that joy will reflect on you also. You will get back from life what you give to it. That is the case with marriage also.”

But Usha is worried about the state of matrimony among young people. “There is too much of an ego fight among youngsters,” she says. “If you break up especially when you have children, it is such a sad sight. Where is the institution of marriage heading? We are taking the worst of western culture and adopting it.”

(The New Indian Express, Kochi and Thiruvananthapuram)

KSR Menon's thriller, 'Desert Hunt' focuses on espionage and international intrigue in Dubai

Photo by K. Rajesh Kumar

By Shevlin Sebastian

'The window given for the execution [of Mohammed Amin] and escape was just 45 minutes, including the time taken at the reception desk to clear the bill and check out. The elder partner took out a syringe filled with one hundred milligrams of succinylcholine, which the Mossad has traditionally used to mask their killings, and injected it into Amin's limp body. The chemical would make the assassination look like a natural death. The younger man took a pillow and suffocated the man who for more than twenty years had been a thorn in the flesh of the Zionists.'

This is an extract from 'Desert Hunt', by KSR Menon, a gripping, fast-paced and highly readable thriller about terrorists and security agents playing cat and mouse games in the dazzling city of Dubai. The scene described above eerily follows the actual-life assassination of top Hamas commander, Mahmoud Al-Mabhouh, on January 19, 2010, at the five-star Al-Bustan Rotana hotel in Dubai. It was suspected to be a Mossad (Israeli) operation: 33 people, with fake passports, arrived at Dubai, did the killing, and fled. The murder has remained unsolved till today.

Menon knows Dubai well. He has worked there as a correspondent for more than 15 years, and was employed with the Press Trust of India, the United News of India, and for other newspapers. “I have an idea of the security apparatus,” he says.

In fact, one of the memorable characters in 'Desert Hunt' is Colonel Sheikh Sultan, the director of the Al-Khaleej Intelligence Directorate. And it is Sultan who keeps a track of all the espionage happenings taking place in Dubai and elsewhere in the United Arab Emirates.

“There are many people like Sultan,” says Menon. “They like to go out in the field. In fact, Arabs are not inclined to be intellectual. The desert life has been tough. It is only less than 100 years that they have made so much money thanks to oil. For many decades, they lived without water or electricity.”

Menon says that the threat of terrorism remains high in the Middle East. “This is something that is waiting to happen,” he says. “The location of the Americans and the British diplomatic missions in Dubai make them very vulnerable. Al Qaeda can attack them easily.”

And they would want to do it, because of the worldwide impact. There is a growing perception among terrorists that attacking India has brought in diminishing returns.

“In India, if you kill a hundred people nothing happens,” says Menon. “It is such a vast country with a huge population. The next day, for their livelihood, people will step out on the streets. But the terrorists will lose trained hands. If one terrorist dies, then they must have some returns from that. In America, the government is very alert. There is tight security everywhere. So they are now looking to target Americans outside America.”

Menon has been prescient about this. After he published the novel, which, incidentally is available on Amazon, the Islamist group Al-Shabaab killed several Westerners at the Westgate Mall in Nairobi on September 21, 2013.

An attack in Dubai is possible because it is home to people from more than 100 nationalities. And among this kaleidoscopic mix, there are trouble-makers like the members of the Taliban, the Lashkar E-Taiba, and Hamas.

Meanwhile, another interesting character in the book is the Director of RAW, K. Subba Rao. He was modelled on the late K. Subrahmanyam, who is regarded as the father of defence strategy in India.

Earlier, while based in Delhi, Menon had worked with Subrahmanyam at the Institute for Defence Studies and Analyses for a year. “He was brilliant,” says Menon. “Subrahmanyam had a photographic memory. We would have regular meetings and he could remember what had exactly transpired after many months. The Americans hated him because he would quote what they had said earlier, and prove that they were contradicting themselves.”

Interestingly, Menon is also experiencing some contradictions, while he stays in Aluva, where he has settled down a few months ago. “It is a good place to stay,” he says. “But the power goes off 15 times a day. It indicates poor governance. Think of this: V-Guard stabilisers is one of the most successful businesses in Kerala. That shows the inefficiency of the system. You don't need stabilisers anywhere in the developed world.”

And the roads are so bad after the rains. “We are always comparing the roads with what it was like five months before,” he says. “If there are potholes, people live with that and are happy if the streets get a temporary repair.”

Menon faults the Communist mind-set of the people. “The Left mind-set glorifies poverty,” he says. “We are sitting on a gold mine, as Kerala can be a global trade hub, like Dubai, as well as a prominent tourist destination, but we are perpetuating poverty. Political parties have vested interests. They want people to remain economically backward. It is easy to control votebanks if they are poor.”

(The New Indian Express, Kochi and Thiruvananthapuram)

Athul Bos, 24, on his Kawasaki Ninja 300, raced from Hyderabad to Kanyakumari and back in less than 36 hours to win an international bike award

By Shevlin Sebastian

Photo by Mithun Vinod

At night, on the Hyderabad-Bangalore six-lane highway, Athul Bos zipped past a lorry and sped ahead on his Kawasaki Ninja 300. After a while, when he glanced at the rear-view mirror, he saw an astonishing sight. The truck was veering from left to right and back again. As Athul increased the speed, to avoid being hit, on the opposite lane, he saw a similar sight. When he looked closely, he saw that the driver was nodding off. “Apparently, this happens often on the highways,” he says.

But Athul, 24, had no time to stop and do something. He was racing from Hyderabad towards Kanyakumari, via Bangalore and Salem, because of a challenge: Athul wanted to cover 1500 miles (2400 kms) in 36 hours so that he could win the BunBurner 1500 award, issued by the US-based Iron Butt Association (IBA). This is a group that recognises long-distance endurance races, and enjoys a worldwide reputation.

Interestingly, for the journey, on January 31, Athul set out at 5 p.m. “I left in the evening, because it would be easier to stay awake at night since I felt fresh,” he says. “If I had started in the early morning, by the time night came, I would have felt tired. During the day you don’t feel sleepy.”

To keep himself replenished, Athul carried several tins of energy drinks, like Red Bull and Gatorade, as well as bars of chocolate. In fact, the only stop he made was at 4 a.m. at Salem, where he used the toilet facilities of a 24-hour McDonalds outlet.

And to prove that he had done the distance, Athul had a petrol pump attendant in Hyderabad sign a witness statement before he left. All along the route, he got computerised petrol bills which showed the date and time, as well as the bike number. He also saved ATM receipts and took photos.

Meanwhile, while he kept the speed between 70-90 kms per hour, on some sections of the highway, where the roads were smooth, he turned the throttle. “I reached a maximum speed of 170 kms per hour,” he says. “The wind does not hit you hard if you use the right technique.”

The correct way is to bend down, place your head over the handle and keep the knees together. “In that way, the wind will blow over you,” he says.

What also helped were the right clothes. Athul wore a special black jacket which he imported from the USA. It had elbow, shoulder and back pads, and the cloth had meshes, to allow easy passage of air. “If I fell from the bike, the jacket provided protection, apart from the helmet,” he says.

Athul was travelling on schedule, but on the return journey, from Kanyakumari, he got stuck in Bangalore during the peak evening traffic and lost precious time. In the end, he had to do the last 500 kms in six hours. But when he entered Andhra Pradesh he encountered thick fog for a few hours which slowed him down. Eventually, he reached Hyderabad in 5 hours and 55 minutes.

Later, Athul sent the petrol and ATM receipts along with photos, to the IBA headquarters in Dallas, where they studied the material, and mapped his route, before agreeing that he had set the record.

Michel J Kneebone, president of the IBA, says, “Only a handful of riders from around the world, including Athul, have managed to overcome the challenges of such a gruelling ride.” In fact, Athul is the first from South India to get the certificate. In total, there are four from India.

Asked what he likes about bikes, this mechanical engineer, who works in his dad's textile business in Thrissur, says, “When you are riding a bike you are in another world. All your worries are far away. There is the open road, the breeze is hitting you and you are going fast. It’s a nice feeling. People ask me why do I attempt these challenges? I always tell them that I enjoy it.”

In fact, Athul has more challenges to tackle and enjoy. He wants to do the Kashmir to Kanyakumari bike route. “I want to break the existing time in the Limca Book of Records,” says Athul.

(Sunday Magazine, The New Indian Express, South India and Delhi)

COLUMN: Spouse's Turn

Anjana talks about life with the actor Sudhir Karamana

By Shevlin Sebastian

One day, in 1996, Anjana was going down the steps of the MES Indian School in Doha when she slipped and fell. When Sudhir Karamana, her husband, came to know about it, he became very tense. There was a reason for it: Anjana was pregnant. “In fact, we felt panicky,” says Anjana. “We were around 24 years old. There were no relatives around. And it was not easy to get an appointment with the gynaecologist Dr. Malini.”

In fact, they had to wait for two days. Eventually, when Dr. Malini examined Anjana, she said that everything was fine, much to the relief of the couple.

A few months later, Sudhir and Anjana returned to Thiruvananthapuram, because the former wanted the child to be born in Kerala. However, Sudhir decided to stay on because his own father, the noted actor, Karamana Janardanan Nair, was unwell.

Anjana had fond memories of the one year she spent in Doha. “It was a honeymoon for us,” she says. “We went to lots of places. And I can never forget the sight of Dukhan [which is the place where oil was first discovered at Qatar in 1935]. The petroleum well looked impressive.”

At the MES school, while Sudhir taught geography and was the basketball coach, Anjana was a chemistry teacher. And it was education that brought them together.

Both were doing their B. Ed studies at Kerala University. The course director, Gourikutty Amma, who was a friend of Anjana’s family felt that Sudhir would be a good match for the girl. So, she suggested this to both families.

When Anjana met Sudhir, on September 10, 1995, at her home, she was taken aback by his height: 6’ 2”. Anjana, herself, is 5’ 6”. However, there was a mutual attraction and both said yes. The marriage took place on March 15, 1996, at the Trivandrum Club.

At the reception, Anjana met the state's celebrities for the first time. They included the actors Madhu, Bharat Gopi, Jagadish, KB Ganesh Kumar and the director Adoor Gopalakrishnan.

“Adoor Uncle and Sudhir’s father had been close friends even before Sudhir was born,” says Anjana. “So he looked very happy when he greeted me.”

At the time, Sudhir and Anjana had secured jobs in government-aided schools. Today, Sudhir is the principal of a higher secondary school for girls at Venganoor, Thiruvananthapuram, while Anjana is a chemistry teacher in the Raja Kesava Das NSS higher secondary school at Sasthamangalam.

Sudhir is unusual in the fact that while he is a principal, he is also actively involved in acting in Mollywood films. “The reason why he has kept his principal's job is because it provides a sense of security,” says Anjana. “So, we are not dependent on his actor's income. He is into films because he has a passion for it.”

And whenever Sudhir gets a role, he takes leave. “In fact, he has received an order from the government giving him permission, although it does result in loss of pay,” says Anjana.

For Anjana, the films of Sudhir she has liked the most include his first, 'Vaasthavam', 'Thalappaavu', 'Left Right Left' and 'Amen'. “He has played a variety of characters,” says Anjana. “I am proud of that.”

Most of the time they see the films in which Sudhir has acted at home. If Sudhir is in town, sometimes, they go to the cinema hall to see it. But after the movie, when people recognise him, they will come up to have a chat. “They will discuss the characters he has played,” says Anjana. “Some will ask whether a few of his roles have been a bit negative.”

But, at home, Sudhir has been a positive role model to his children, Sooryanarayanan, 16, and Gouri Kalyani, 11, both of whom study at the Christ Nagar Higher Secondary school.

“As a father, he is strict and friendly at the same time,” says Anjana. “He is keen that the children should be good in their behaviour as well as their studies. But Sudhir is a child at heart and likes to go swimming and jogging with them. He cracks a lot of jokes.”

Anjana likes the fact that Sudhir is a family man. “No matter how busy he is, Sudhir will always call me or his mother,” she says. “Whatever we do it will be under his guidance.”

And they go for holidays whenever possible. Last year they did a tour of Mumbai, Delhi, Rajasthan, Uttar Pradesh, Punjab, and Himachal Pradesh. “We had a wonderful time,” says Anjana.

However, Sudhir's drawback is that he has a short-temper. “He gets angry quickly, but returns to normality very fast,” says Anjana. “In the earlier years, I would get upset. But now I have got used to it. Because of this hot temper he had to face many unexpected situations in the family. But, somehow, he has managed to resolve it.”

Finally, when asked for tips for a successful marriage, Anjana says, “A husband and wife should find time to spend together, no matter how busy they are. You should not hide anything from each other. And if you have a fight, one spouse should take the first opportunity to solve it. There should not be any ego trip about who will talk first. In our marriage, I always take the initiative.”

(The New Indian Express, Kochi and Thiruvananthapuram)

COLUMN: Spouse's Turn

Anupama talks about life with the actor Saiju Kurup

Photo by Mithun Vinod

By Shevlin Sebastian

One day when Anupama Nambiar was eight years old, she was standing at the Army Public School in Wellington, Coonoor. Suddenly, she saw something strange: it was a cross which was going around the tree. “As a child you tend to have an over-heated imagination,” says Anupama. “However, the image was very clear to me.”

Fifteen years later, Anupama returned to Coonoor for her honeymoon with the actor Saiju Kurup. This time, she took him to the same spot where she had seen the cross. “But neither the tree was there or the cross,” says Anupama, with a smile, at her sixth-floor apartment in Kochi.

Nevertheless, Anupama showed Saiju many places in Wellington, which was a reminder of her childhood. Anupama had spent the first eight years of her life in Wellington, because her father, Colonel KPB Nambiar, had been posted there.

Anupama met Saiju when they were both working in an insurance company in Kochi. For Saiju, it was an instant attraction. But for Anupama, it was a slower reaction. “Saiju did stand out because of his height [5' 11”] and piercing eyes,” she says. “He also had a confident way of carrying himself.”

Within a few months, however, both left the insurance company and joined a telecommunication service firm. It was at this time that Saiju got an offer to act in a Hariharan film, 'Mayookham', and accepted. But he remained in touch with Anupama.

One day, he called up and proposed marriage on the phone. “I never expected it,” she says. “I told him we had just met and did not know each other well. But Saiju had no doubts.”

Eventually, Anupama told her parents. To keep her mother happy, she asked that the horoscopes be read. To Anupama's relief, it matched. So, her parents gave her the green signal.

The marriage took place on February 12, 2005. Initially, there was a 'thali exchange' at Guruvayur temple, followed by a reception at the Vinayaka Hall in Kochi.

At the Kochi event, there was a confusion about the rings. “Both rings looked the same,” says Anupama. “Somebody said, 'No, this one is Saiju's.' Another person said, 'No it is Anupama's.' Everybody was talking at the same time. There was confusion all around. At that time, it was not funny. But when we watch it on the video now, we laugh a lot.”

Meanwhile, when asked about her husband's plus points, Anupama says, “Saiju is a positive person. He has had a lot of ups and downs in his film career. Anybody else in a similar situation would have given up or started thinking in a negative way. But he would always tell me, 'the good times will come'.”

The couple's 'good times' moment occurred when their daughter Mayookha was born. “Saiju was thrilled,” says Anupama. “He says how Mayookha, when she was born, fitted in the palm of his hand and now, at eight-and-a-half-years of age, she has become so tall.”

But as a father, he is laid-back. “The father-daughter relationship is more like a brother-sister link,” says Anupama. “It is a playful bond. Saiju never disciplines Mayookha, and tries to fulfill most of her wants. And he will not make her do things she does not want to do.”

On the other hand, Saiju is tough with Anupama. “In our day-to-day life, I want to do things one way, while he wants to do it in another way,” she says. “I may be impulsive, while he is not. For example, I drive fast and carelessly, while Saiju is a careful driver.”

Once, while reversing the car, Anupama hit an autorickshaw. “The driver had parked the vehicle without me knowing,” says Anupama. “I wanted to scold him, but Saiju told me there was no point in fighting. 'It will make it worse,' he said. 'Keep quiet. Note down the number in your mind. Don't do it in front of him.'”

Anupama smiles, and says, “Sometimes, I feel like shaking him up, so that he will lash out.”

When they step out in public, Saiju is easily recognised, thanks to his roles in films like 'Trivandrum Lodge', 'Red Wine', 'Left Right Left' and '1983'. “I have seen young and old, as well as children who come up to talk to him,” says Anupama. “He gets a lot of messages on Facebook from girls. I don't feel insecure about it. He is clear that these are fan relationships. He has strong family values and respects women a lot.”

Finally, when asked for tips about marriage, Anupama gives clear-eyed advice. “It is important that the interests, ideas and values of the boy as well as the girl should match,” she says. “What I mean is that they should have a similar vision for the future. Otherwise, it will not work. It is also important to be frank and forthright with each other.”

(The New Indian Express, Kochi and Thiruvananthapuram)

Diego Maradona, with his undoubted genius, made an unforgettable mark at the 1986 World Cup in Mexico, and helped Argentina become world champions

By Shevlin Sebastian

June 23, 1986, Azteca Stadium, Mexico
Quarter finals: England vs. Argentina

Argentine captain Diego Maradona collects the ball from near the centre line on the right flank. He starts to move slowly, then accelerates with the sudden speed and finesse of a deer. He is immediately challenged by two English defenders. Maradona sidesteps one and swerves around the other, his eyes on the ball all the time. He runs hard. Again, two English players converge on him. Incredibly, he finds a gap between the two, squeezes past them and is now in the open, on the right side. He is unchallenged and in full stretch now, the ball mesmerisingly glued to his left feet.

English goalkeeper Peter Shilton hesitates. He is afraid to commit himself early, but Maradona has already reached the top of the penalty box, although he is chased by three English players. So Shilton has no option, but to move forward. He closes the angle, but Maradona gives a feint. He pretends as if he is going to take a shot at the left corner. However, it is a dummy. Shilton splays his legs, as Maradona moves to the right and flicks the ball into the empty net.

GOAL!

The stadium erupts. Maradona erupts. He clenches a fist and runs towards the Argentinian section of the stadium, and yells his jubilation. The other Argentine players converge on him. There is a rapturous joy. This is surely one of the greatest goals in the history of the World Cup. Or in the history of football.

In fact, in 2002, users of Fifa.com overwhelmingly voted it as the ‘Goal of the Century’. The Mexicans were so taken up by the goal that, later, they built a plaque at Azteca Stadium commemorating it.

This work of beauty was compensation for an earlier disputed goal in the same match. In the 51st minute, Mardona runs towards the goal and, amidst a clutch of English players, he gives a diagonal pass to teammate Jorge Valdano, who is running in a parallel line, but the ball goes behind him and reaches midfielder Steve Hodge who has run back.

He tries to clear it, but miscues the kick and the ball heads in a high arc towards the penalty box. Shilton runs out to punch it, but Maradona, already running forward, jumps up and hits the ball with his left hand into the goal. Unfortunately, the Tunisian referee Ali Bin Nasser did not see it. The English players protest vehemently. But the referee is unmoved. And the goal is allowed.

Later, at the press conference, Maradona said, tongue-in-cheek, “I scored the goal, a little with the head of Maradona and a little with the hand of God.” Thereafter, this goal has been permanently dubbed as the ‘Hand of God’ goal.

June 29, 1986, Azteca Stadium.
World Cup final: Argentina Vs. Germany

Two spectacular goals by Karl Heinz Rummeneige and Rudi Voeller has helped Germany draw level with Argentina, 2-2. The South American confidence is beginning to erode. There is only ten minutes left. It is a moment that demands magic. And so, once again, soccer’s sorcerer responds. Maradona collects a pass from inside his own half, eludes three defenders and clips a through pass to Jorge Burruchaga that splits the German defence.

Burruchaga is unchallenged and running like the wind, towards the box. Goalkeeper Harald Schumacher, in a striking canary yellow jersey, advances towards the Argentinian. But, at the most important moment of his life, Burruchaga keeps his cool and sends a low shot that eludes the diving and desperate Schumacher. Score-3-2.

When the final whistle blows, the man responsible for the decisive pass, is already on his knees, his arms outstretched, his eyes heavenward, tears rolling down his face, and an outstretched smile that made it seem as if he had no lips.

Diego Maradona’s dream of winning the World Cup had come true. This was the first time, since Pele, that a player had stamped his individual authority on the World Cup, and with as much flair.

Right from the first match, against South Korea, when he performed brilliantly, despite some persistent fouling, Maradona had produced soccer of the highest class.

The feints, the slow start to his runs, the sudden acceleration, the swift changes of direction, the outrageous dribbles, the perfect headers, and those swirling free kicks that puzzled both defenders and goalkeepers alike.

There was no footballer like Diego Armando Maradona.

And, on June 29, 1986, Diego Maradona was 'El Rey', the King Of The Planet.

(Published in The New Indian Express, Kochi and Thiruvananthapuram)

US Kutty, director of Sobhagya Advertising, looks back on 25 years in the industry

Photo by K. Rajesh Kumar

By Shevlin Sebastian

In 1980, when US Kutty had completed his Class 10 examinations at Chittur, Palakkad, his uncle, KV Menon, took him to Mumbai, to improve his prospects. Kutty went for early morning college, but was free during the day. Menon's neighbour, Shyamala Pillai, noticed this. She was working at Sobhagya Advertising Service. “Why don't you do some work during the day?” she told Kutty.

And that was how Kutty went for an interview with NL Saboo , the finance director of Sobhagya. But there was no interview. Saboo just looked at Kutty and said, “You are appointed.”

Kutty said, “Sir, you have not given me a test?”

Saboo said, “After seeing you, I know that you will do well.”

Thereafter, Kutty was assigned to work with Anand Nakrekar, who handled media planning at the Dalal Street office. Kutty started learning the ropes. Sometime later, there was a call.

It was from the Chairman SM Singhvi who said, “Is anybody there?”

The youngster said, “I am Kutty, the new person.”

Singhvi said, “Come to the head office.”

When Kutty presented himself, 20 minutes later, the chairman said, “I am going to Ahmedabad. You have to make an estimate for newspaper advertisements worth Rs 1 crore. You ask Jayan. He will help you. Please show it to me by 6.30 p.m., because I have a flight to catch.”

The time was 4.30 p.m. However, within an hour, Kutty showed the media estimate to Singhvi. The chairman was impressed. He looked at what Kutty had written, and said, “When did you join?”

“One month, Sir,” said Kutty.

“Okay, tomorrow onwards, you will be in this office,” he said.

This was Kutty's turning point. He was put in charge of all media for all the offices in Mumbai, and continued to do well.

A few years later, Kutty's second turning point occurred when he was asked to go to Kayamkulam by the chairman.

Kutty said, “Sir, where is Kayamkulam?”

Singhvi started laughing and said, “Arre yaar, it is your native place.”

Kutty said that he had not travelled beyond Thrissur, because his father was strict and never allowed his children to move around. Anyway, Kutty went to Kayamkulam and met the officials of the National Thermal Power Corporation Limited. They told him that if Sobhagya wanted to handle their advertising account, they would need to open an office in Kochi. Kutty did so, on July 1, 1991.

Ever since, Kutty and Sobhagya Advertising have been going strong. Today, he is the director of the company and has just celebrated his 25th year in the advertising industry. In Kerala, Sobhagya has clients like Eastern Foods, Geojit, State Bank of Travancore, Kerala Industrial and Infrastructure Development Corporation and the IT Mission.

And, of course, the big change in the past two decades is the advances in technology. “In earlier times, to make an advertisement, we had to do type setting and block making,” says Kutty. “A colour advertisement took more than a week to make. Now, we can make ten advertisements on the computer in an hour. An ad film can be made within a day. That is how fast it has become.”

But despite the earlier slowness, Kutty made good advertisements. His award-winning one, a short film, was for Prima Cattlefeed. The scene is set in heaven. The gods are asking for milk and one cow produces more than 15 litres. They are amazed. The gods ask how this is possible. And the answer is simple: 'Prima Cattlefeed.'

Asked about the qualities needed to make a good advertisement, Kutty says, “Good copy comes from the heart. A copywriter must keep his eyes open all the time. A small event can lead to a good advertisement.”

He remembers how advertising legend Alyque Padamsee coined the 'Hamara Bajaj' slogan. Padamsee was walking around in a village. There was a boy whose father had bought a new Bajaj. And that interaction inspired Padamsee to come up with the 'Hamara Bajaj' slogan.

“The communication should be simple and easy,” says Kutty. “People do not spend more than 10 minutes with the newspaper. You have to convey the message quickly.”

Meanwhile, Sobhagya's boom occurred when it began handling public issues of shares. Today, Kutty has conducted more than a thousand press conferences for various companies.

And he follows a set pattern. “I ensure that it is held in a good hotel,” he says. “Then there should be an interesting story about the company which I can convey to the journalists. If we do not have anything catchy to say, there will be minimal coverage in the newspapers and TV channels the next day.”

Kutty has also been instrumental in setting up The Advertising Club, Kochi in 1994. A year or two after he settled down, he noticed that people in the industry treated each other like rivals. “So I thought of setting up a club where we can talk with each other and discuss issues, pertaining to advertising,” says Kutty. “I sent a letter to all the agencies telling them of my plan.”

The response was enthusiastic. Today, there are 500 members and 80 agencies. Last month, Kutty started the Kerala chapter of the Public Relations Council of India.

Just as these institutions are thriving, Kutty remains strong and alert. “I love my job and learn new things every day,” he says. “This enables me to remain fresh.”

(The New Indian Express, Kochi and Thiruvananthapuram)

Rajesh Nair has a lifelong passion for kites. Through his KiteLife Foundation, he tries to inculcate a love for the sport among youngsters

By Shevlin Sebastian

The sky was a bright blue. A slight breeze was blowing. Rajesh Nair felt confident. Slowly, he sent his kite skywards. It had a distinctive design: a temple with three conical roofs. This was a replica of the Dathathreya Anjaneya Temple in Desom, Aluva, Kerala, where Lord Hanuman is worshipped. “I am a devotee,” says Rajesh.

The spectators clapped. This was the first time they were seeing a kite like this. Rajesh was participating in the 4th International Kite Festival held, on April 12-13, at Uiseong in South Korea.

It is an impressive kite: the dimensions are 7ft in height and a wing span of 16 feet. In order to control the kite better, Rajesh had tied the string around his waist. “High up the sky, the weight of the kite goes up to 250 kgs,” he says. “That is because the wind cannot go through the fabric. ”

The kite rose higher and higher. Suddenly, a stiff breeze began to blow. It began to increase in speed. Soon, it reached 64 kms per hour. Rajesh tried hard to control the kite. Unfortunately, the inevitable happened: the kite crashed to the ground. Rajesh ran to see what had happened. One side of the bamboo spar had broken. But he knew that he could repair it. Which he did. And flew the kite again, to sustained applause from the spectators.

Later, he flew another kite designed as Mahabali, the benevolent Asura king, who is the symbol of the Kerala festival of Onam. So, you could see the crown, along with the black moustache, a protruding paunch and the umbrella.

“When I take part in international kite festivals, in places like Borneo, Singapore or Dubai, I try to propagate our Indian culture through my designs,” says Rajesh. His attire is also traditional: at the inaugural ceremony, at Uiseong, he wore a purple silk shirt and a white dhoti, and placed a half-dhoti on his shoulder.

Rajesh's interest in kites began in his childhood in Kozhikode. His father taught him how to make his first kite. And thereafter, his passion deepened. “When you fly kites, you experience a sense of freedom,” says Rajesh. “It seems as if I am also flying in the sky along with my kite.”

Today, he no longer makes the typical paper kites that we all know of. Instead, he uses a nylon fabric called ripstop. “It is used in the making of parachutes, and does not tear easily,” says Rajesh. “If there is a tear it does not spread. It is used extensively in the kiting community.” However, ripstop is not available in India. Rajesh imports it from China at Rs 350 per metre.

After he has secured the fabric, Rajesh does the drawings. Then he cuts the cloth according to the lines of the drawing. Then bamboo spars are added.

But before that, the bamboo has to be treated carefully. “Every bamboo, when it is cut, is wet,” says Rajesh. “So you need to dry it in the sun. Then it turns into a yellow colour. Then I apply termite oil. It has two benefits. The termites will keep away, and the bamboo will bend beyond 90 degrees, without snapping.”

All this takes time. An average kite takes anywhere between one-and-a-half months to three months. “I work nights and on the weekends,” says Rajesh, who is a consultant on corporate social responsibility in many companies.

Asked the charm of making kites, Rajesh says, “You imagine any colour and that can be used. You design a shape in your mind and that can be shown. I have a fascination with folk songs and culture. I bring all those images to a kite.”

In fact, during a kite festival in Malaysia, Rajesh flew a kite resembling a theyyam dancer (theyyam is an ancient folk art of Kerala). The media was so enthralled that the 'Borneo Post' published a photograph of Rajesh flying the kite on the front page.

In 2010, Rajesh set up the KiteLife Foundation. Thereafter, he has held numerous workshops for children and adults alike, all over Kerala, to inculcate the joys of kite flying. In Thrissur, once, he taught 1200 students at a workshop.

“The centre of kite-flying is in Ahmedabad,” he says. “I also want Kerala to develop a kite-flying culture.”

(Sunday Magazine, The New Indian Express, South India and Delhi)

COLUMN: Spouse's Turn

Geetha talks about life with the politician NK Premachandran

Photo by Vishu Lal

By Shevlin Sebastian

On October 28, 2003, NK Premachandran fell ill with dengue fever. He was taken to a private hospital at Kollam. However, when the fever increased, his wife Geetha took him by car at night and got him admitted to the KIMS Hospital at Thiruvananthapuram.

But the situation began to take a turn for the worse. Every day Premachandran's blood platelet was going down: from a normal of 2.5 lakh it reached 9000. In a desperate bid to increase the count, the blood of 36 people were given.

Two weeks passed. One day, Geetha saw that the heartbeat line on the cardiac monitor had become irregular. She ran to Dr. M.I Sahadulla, the Managing Director, who called the doctors at the Intensive Care Unit. They confirmed that the situation was grim. Geetha ran back to where her husband lay, and prayed fervently to Guruvayurappan and Hanuman.

After a while, the miracle took place. “Slowly, the heart beat began to go up,” she says. “All vital signs began to improve.”

But there were further setbacks. Bleeding on the leg was detected. Soon, there came a time when Premachandran was unable to speak. He wrote something on a piece of paper and showed it to his wife: 'A politician who cannot speak, what use is he?' But, ultimately, he survived.

This was the most unforgettable experience for Geetha in her 23-year-marriage to Premachandran. Incidentally, she is a reader at the Homeo Medical College in Kurichi, Kottayam.

The other moving moment occurred when Premachandran recently won from the Kollam Lok Sabha constituency, where he defeated a heavyweight like MA Baby, of the CPI(M), by a margin of 37,649 votes.

It had a big impact on Premachandran. “He feels a big responsibility to live up to the expectations of the people,” says Geetha. “It is a great moment for the [Revolutionary Socialist] party.”

This win was a soothing balm to Premachandran, after his unexpected loss in the 2011 Assembly elections. “At that time, I had told my husband and child [20 year-old Karthik] that everything is for the good. But Premachandran told me, 'You are the first person to say that losing is a good thing,'” says Geetha.

But, in retrospect, Geetha was right. When Premachandran lost, he had plenty of time. And he ended up spending it with Karthik. As a result, they became close. “When my son was younger, he would say, 'I am sure father does not know which class I am in.'” Today, Karthik, who has a B. Tech degree, is working for Sobha Developers in Dubai.

The second revelation, from the defeat, was that the family realised who their true friends are. “The behaviour of people is different when you are in power and out of it,” says Geetha. “When Premachandran lost, several people kept aloof. He felt it keenly.”

Asked to analyse her husband's character, Geetha says, “Premachandran is a soft person, who can never harm anybody. I tell him that he should not be so simple. Politics is a difficult profession. If a man makes ten requests, over a period of time, and Premachandran fulfills nine of them, and is not able to do the tenth, the person will talk badly of him. That is human nature. But, at the same time, there are many who love him.”

One of them is Remya (name changed), a poor girl who was studying nursing. For the final semester, she needed Rs 25,000. Premachandran, who was the then Minister for Water Resources, could not obtain a sponsorship. “That was when he decided to pay Rs 2500 every month from his salary so that the girl could complete her course,” says Geetha. “Today she is a qualified nurse. We feel happy for her. ”

Geetha also felt happy when she got married to Premachandran on February 10, 1991. Initially, her father had hoped she would marry somebody from the government service, instead of a politician. But Geetha had no doubts. “I knew Premachandran was smart, because he had secured the first rank in law from the Thiruvananthapuram Government Law college in 1985,” she says.

However, at the SG Auditorium at Attingal, where the marriage took place, there was a faux pas. “The ring which I had to give Premachandran was supposed to have my name,” says Geetha. “But it was not there.” Premachandran whispered to Geetha, “Did you not get the time to put it?” Geetha did not know what to reply and gave an embarrassed smile.

Thankfully, the couple never face any embarrassing moment when they step out in public. “Wherever we go, we are treated with a lot of love and affection,” says Geetha. “Nowadays, Premachandran receives a lot of congratulations [for winning the Lok Sabha seat]. They tell him that the right person has won.”

Finally, when asked for tips on marriage, Geetha says, “Before marriage, you might have secrets. But once you get married, you must be open and honest with each other.” Also, if there are problems between the spouses, they should solve it between themselves. “Others should not be allowed to interfere, especially the parents,” she says. “That will make it messy.”

There should also not be any ego issues. “At times, you must opt for a compromise,” says Geetha. “That is the only way to make the marriage work.”

(The New Indian Express, Kochi and Thiruvananthapuram)

By Shevlin Sebastian

The other day I sent a SMS to a leading Mollywood actress: 'Just as acting is your profession, journalism is my bread and butter. The only reason I am trying to get in touch with you is because my editors have asked me to write an article.' I sent this out of a sense of frustration: earlier calls and SMSes went unanswered. But she responded to this particular message: 'I am not giving any interviews at the moment.'

This was not entirely true. She had given interviews to mass-market Malayalam newspapers and magazines as well as the radio. It seems that she, like a few others in Mollywood, lack the confidence to speak to English-language journalists.

But not this particular star, Rajesh (name changed). He exuded supreme self-confidence. And when I entered his trailer during a shoot at Kochi, he was lying sideways on a bed, his face resting on his upraised palm. Amazingly, throughout the interview, Rajesh remained in this position.

In 25 years of meeting celebrities at the state, national and international level, he is the only person who spoke to me lying down.

Interestingly, later, another actor told me that when Rajesh was starting out, he would beg journalists to write articles about him. So Rajesh has followed the route of many successful people: go up the ladder and then pretend it did not exist at all.

In my experience, it is the rare Mollywood star who responds to a SMS or a call, unless you are among his favoured group of journalists. But some, like me, prefer a professional relationship.

Unfortunately, this behaviour is being perpetuated. Young talents, who become successful, also act like their seniors. There is a new-generation director, as well as a young star, who were friendly when they began their careers. But once they notched up a couple of hits, they stopped responding to SMSes or calls.

On the other hand, Bollywood is far more professional. If you want an interview with a star, all you have to do is to get in touch with his publicist. If they feel it is worthwhile, time and date are fixed and the interview is done.

But, sometimes, Bollywood actors, who come to Mollywood, develop local attitudes. One such actor, who is on the fringes in Mumbai, gave me the run for two months. I could have given up, but took it as a challenge. The turning point came when I finally said, “I have worked in Mumbai and met many stars.” (Thereafter, I dropped a few names). The chastened actor gave me the interview immediately.

But there have been nice experiences, too. One such moment occurred when I met the late comic great, Cochin Haneefa. He spoke with an endearing humility, and provided a feast, for my photographer colleague and myself. To be honest, we were shocked. We are so used to getting a cup of tea only. After he passed away, in 2010, at age 58, his wife, Fasila, told me, “My husband had a big heart.”

It is time Mollywood also develops a big heart. And becomes professional in its dealings with the media.

(Published as a middle in The New Indian Express, South India editions)

Nimish Kalappurakal fell in love with Fiat cars from his childhood. Today, he has founded the Team Fiat Moto Club, which has 3850 members

Photo by Manu R. Mavelil

By Shevlin Sebastian

Last year, Nimish Kalappurakal and a group of friends were travelling from Thiruvananthapuram to the hill station of Kodaikanal. There was nothing unusual about them except that in the procession of 12 cars, every single one of them was a Fiat: a Palio or a Punto or a Linea.

Somewhere along the way, a friend of Nimish, Asif Sharief asked whether he could drive his Palio S10. So they exchanged cars. “When Asif was driving I had a feeling that something was going to go wrong,” says Nimish. And it did. The engine suddenly stopped. An inspection revealed a loose wire.

“The car seemed unhappy that somebody else was driving it,” says Nimish. “It has never stalled before.”

Nimish's car always works smoothly, because he looks after it, like a baby. “Every month, I take it for a check-up and water servicing,” he says. “Once in three months, it gets a fresh wax coat.”

The S10 car is also special because it has been signed by former cricketer Sachin Tendulkar. “Only 500 cars were manufactured,” says Nimish. And all these cars, painted in yellow, and numbered individually, have been signed by Sachin, on the bonnet, at the back and on the sides.

Asked why he loves Fiat cars so much, Nimish, who owns three, says, “Fiat cars have a different feel to it. It offers more safety features, as compared to other cars. The most important thing is the easy handling. The body is solid and can take an impact well. As a result, the fatality rate is low.”

This love was engendered in his childhood. “It was a household name in my family for a long time,” he says. “The company has had its ups and downs. But, today, it is on a resurgence.”

The Thiruvananthapuram-based Nimish, a human resource professional, worked in Kuwait for a few years. When he returned, he wanted to start a lifestyle club, similar to the ones he had seen in other countries. That was when he got the idea of starting a club for Fiat car lovers.

In May, 2011, he put up a page, the Team Fiat Moto Club, on Facebook. And offered free membership. Over the months, people joined from different parts of India. Today, there are 3850 members.

“The majority are from Kerala and Tamil Nadu,” says Nimish. All of them belong to the upper strata and includes IT professionals, businessmen, doctors, engineers and chartered accountants.

The club is administered by Biju Jose and Jaydev Gopakumar, apart from Nimish. “We coordinate the daily activities and set the dates and agenda for future meetings,” says Biju.

Several of the interactions of the members are online. At this moment, they are talking about the Abarth 500, a 180 bhp, two-door small car, which is expected to cost Rs 25 lakh. However, the existing price range of Fiat cars is from Rs. 3.5 lakh to Rs 12 lakh.

Interestingly, not many people know that the Fiat 1.3 multi litre engine is a big success. “About 13 cars use it,” says Jaydev Gopakumar. “Apart from Tata, Maruti's entire diesel range is based on the Fiat engine.”

Meanwhile, the club members interact regularly with Fiat officials based in India. “They are open and receptive,” says Jaydev. “They give us advance notice of new cars coming to India. Fiat has ambitious plans. They have set up 120 dealerships all over India and several more are in the pipeline.”

Apart from online discussions, there are physical meetings. “We have rides based on certain concepts,” says Nimish. “Last year, we had a winter drive from Thiruvananthapuram to Wayanad, 550 kms away. We posted the event on the club page. People came from Kochi, Chennai, and Coimbatore. It was fun.”

For their annual meet in September, 2012, 60 members, along with their families, went to Ooty. “We met new members and established contacts,” says Biju. “It was time well spent because we are all like-minded people.”

Finally, when asked whether he loves his wife or his car more, Nimish says, with a smile, “I knew my Fiat before I met my wife. But, seriously, I love them both passionately.”

(Sunday Magazine, The New Indian Express, South India and Delhi)

COLUMN: Spouse's Turn

Ameena talks about life with the film director Salam Bapu

Photo by Melton Antony

By Shevlin Sebastian

Ameena's father got a shock. Her daughter's mobile bill was Rs 45,000. 'How is it possible?' he thought. And, finally, Ameena told her father the truth. She had been making calls to Salam Bapu, an assistant director of Mollywood, and wanted to marry him.

Her parents, and her elder brothers, objected strenuously. “They were against the proposal, because Salam is in the film industry,” says Ameena. “They would not have minded if he was working as an advocate. They knew Salam had a law degree.”

Meanwhile, things were at an impasse. A few months went past. Then one day, Ameena told her father, “Vapa, I cannot handle the pressure any more. I love Salam and want to marry him.”

The father relented, and both the families met and the marriage was fixed.

It took place on June 19, 2004, at Ameena's home town of Muvattupuzha. Actor Biju Menon and film director Lal Jose were present. “Lal Jose Sir observed me and told Salam that I am a good girl,” says Ameena. Her striking memory of that day was when the couple were travelling from Muvattupuzha to Salam's home in Ponnani, she was toying with Salam's specs and broke it. “I was shocked,” says Ameena. But Salam managed to get it repaired.

The couple had no time to go for a honeymoon. While Salam, who was working as an associate director with Lal Jose, had a movie to work on, Ameena returned to the Women's Government College at Thirivananthapuram where she was doing her second-year BA.
Ameena met Salam for the first time when she was selected, from college, to compere an Iftaar programme on a television channel in which Salam was writing the script. They liked each other, although Salam teased her about her delivery style.

“After the programme was over, we remained in touch, thanks to mobile phones,” says Ameena, with a smile, at her apartment in Tripunithara. “Over a period of time we developed feelings for each other.”

And today, ten years later, she remains smitten by Salam. Once, she had gone to watch him shoot scenes of 'Red Wine', Salam's debut film, at Wayanad. “I had eyes only for Salam,” she says. “So much so, the producer's children began teasing me. They asked me whether I had not seen my husband earlier, and why was I staring at Salam? We are very attached to each other. Wherever he goes, I will call him up or he will do so. I miss his physical presence a lot.”

So, she always goes to the location when a shoot is going on. And Ameena is amazed to see the transformation in Salam's character. “Salam will talk loudly,” says Ameena. “Sometimes, he will shout at the crew. I always ask him, 'Why do you shout so much?' At home, he is soft-spoken and calm.”

And patient, too. “Like most women, I have mood changes,” says Ameena. “Whatever mood I am in, it can be seen on my face. If I am depressed, it lasts for a while. But Salam waits patiently for me to feel better. He has a true love for me. We are both surprised that a decade has gone past. We feel so fresh in our marriage.”

She likes his other qualities, too. “Salam is passionate about films,” says Ameena. “He is dedicated to his career. But even when he is working full-time, like he is doing now, for 'Manglish', the family is always in his thoughts.” The couple have two children, Adheena Fatima, 8, and two-year-old Ayisha Fatima.

But there are times when he wanders off mentally. “Even though he is in the house, he is in another world, especially if a shoot is going on,” says Ameena. “All creative people are like that. Sometimes, I would get upset, but now I have got used to it.”

Salam's one drawback is his lack of punctuality. “That irritates me a lot,” says Ameena. “I am always punctual, because my parents have taught me to be like that. So if we have to go out at 6 p.m., I will start urging him to get ready by 5 p.m.”

Whether he is punctual or not, whenever they have free time, they go to the beach in Fort Kochi or at Ponnani. And the reason is simple: Ameena is fascinated by the sight of water. “If I feel any tension, I can sense it seeping out of me, whenever I stare at the waves,” says Ameena. “We sit on the beach for hours, and have long conversations. I tell Salam he is very lucky. Whenever I say I want to go out, he knows that he only has to take me to the beach.”

When asked to give tips for a successful marriage, Ameena says, “Husband and wife should trust each other. Don’t irritate the husband. After a while, you will know his likes and dislikes. So, you can adjust your behavior accordingly. It is also important that there is love and caring between the two.”

(The New Indian Express, Kochi and Thiruvananthapuram)

Swedish singer-flautist Jessica Hugoson talks about the status of women and other subjects after a year's stay at Kochi

Photo by Melton Antony

By Shevlin Sebastian

Swedish singer-flautist Jessica Hugoson was taking singing classes at the Royal College of Music in Stockholm. And every day she saw an advertisement on the notice board: the Amadeus Academy of Music and Fine Arts, in Kochi were looking for teachers. Earlier, a couple of Swiss musicians had worked there. “I had always wanted to come to India,” says Jessica. “But I needed to do a bit of planning, since I have two children, Julius, 8, and Otto, 4.”

Eventually, she took the plunge and arrived in July, 2013, along with her partner, the Cuban violinist, Santiago Jimenez and the children. And now, a year later, they are coming to the end of their stint.

Asked about her experiences with the students, Jessica says, “They are polite and well-behaved. However, since the emphasis is only on learning lessons, there is not much scope for creativity. Sometimes, students should be allowed to do something which is not in the textbooks. Plus, they are too obedient and respectful of the teachers.”

Nevertheless, Jessica enjoyed her time at the Academy. “The teaching was nice, but our lives revolved around a routine of working five days a week,” she says.

As a professional singer-flautist, this was a constraint for Jessica. She would preferred to take a few days off, so that she could concentrate on her music.

Away from the academy, life was also pleasant. “We live in a good place,” says Jessica, at her fourth-floor apartment at the Riviera Suites, Kochi. “I like the climate and the people are friendly. When you ask for directions, they go out of the way to help. I also like the food a lot, but found it complicated to make. So, we eat Kerala food at restaurants. At home, I make Swedish food, like meatballs or pancakes, although my children like pasta all the time.”

Meanwhile, there were a few negative moments. Jessica finds it difficult to tackle the overflowing traffic. “It is not easy to walk on the streets with the children,” she says. “The infrastructure needs to develop. People suffer by sitting in buses for a long time because of traffic jams. To get small things done, like getting a computer repaired, is hard, since I don't speak Malayalam. These are challenges, but I have made adjustments.”

These adjustments have included sartorial ones. “I wear clothes that keeps me covered, as is the style in Kerala,” she says. “If I wanted, I could have dressed provocatively, but felt it would be inappropriate.”

Jessica wants an improvement in the status of women in Kerala. “Women don't have the same rights as the men,” she says. “They are passive and docile. In many instances, the man speaks on behalf of the woman. The women might want to marry somebody else, or do something different, but they don't get a chance. They are influenced a lot by the family. I don't want to criticise the Indian system, but I would not accept the fact that somebody else chooses your husband.”

But the system of arranged marriages survives all over the world. Interestingly, in Sweden, arranged marriages continue to thrive, especially in the upper classes. “Among Swedish royalty there are several arranged marriages, and this exists among European royalty, too,” says Jessica. “But there is one difference. In India, you marry a family, while in Sweden we marry an individual. However, in both systems, if you get the right person, it enriches your life.”

Jessica has an enriching relationship with Santiago, whom she met more than ten years ago, in Stockholm. “I like his free spirit,” she says. “He is not strict about anything. We don't rehearse much, but when we play together it sounds good. So, we have a chemistry.”

This is clear from the interaction. It is a vibrant relationship, with the verbal thrust and parry of most couples. And since he does not know English well, Jessica translates for him. During the course of the interview with Jessica, which Santiago is listening in, he suddenly feels restless. He gets up and moves around the room, in a semi-circle, playing an imaginary tabla, with both hands. She gives a quizzical smile, even as they lock eyes all the time.

Finally, Jessica confirms that she will return, along with Santiago and the children, if she gets other opportunities. “All said and done, we love Kerala,” she says.

(The New Indian Express, Kochi, Thiruvananthapuram and Kozhikode)

Actor Nivin Pauly, Mollywood's rising star, has had three back-to-back blockbuster hits this year – '1983', 'Om Shanti Oshana' and 'Bangalore Days'

By Shevlin Sebastian

On an early morning, a few months ago, a shoot was taking place in an old bungalow in Tripunithara, a suburb of Kochi. Actor Nivin Pauly stood opposite Nazriya Nazim, and was supposed to talk about his mother coming to Bangalore for good. Cinematographer Sameer Thahir was sitting high up on a crane. But each time Nivin looked at Nazriya, both of them would start smiling. Take after take was spoiled. Finally, an exasperated Sameer came down and said, “I am going home. We will shoot tomorrow.”

That meant the shoot of 'Bangalore Days' would have to be done again the next day. Knowing this, director Anjali Menon rushed to Sameer, and said, “Please, please.”

A mollified Sameer said, “Okay, one more chance.”

And, this time, the actors got it right.

“Nazriya and I are good friends,” says Nivin. “It is easy to do songs and comic moments. But when we have to do emotional scenes, it becomes difficult. So, we end up smiling.”
Nivin has other reasons to smile these days. Apart from 'Bangalore Days' becoming a blockbuster hit, his previous two films, '1983' and 'Om Shanti Oshana', released this year, have also been superhits.

So, how did he get it right? “I select films based on my intuition,” says Nivin. “If my inner voice tells me it is okay, only then do I say yes.”

He also looks carefully at the cast and the crew. “The director, cinematographer, production controller, producer and distributor have to be good if a film has to do well,” says Nivin. “And there should be positive vibes among the team members.”

Nivin also cites other reasons about why the three films did well. “'1983' evokes a lot of sentiments,” says Nivin. “The story touches the heart of the audience. We Malayalis are an emotional people and love nostalgia.”

'Om Shanti Oshana' did well, he says, because it is rare in Mollywood to do a love story from the point of view of the heroine. “I had a feeling that people would enjoy watching such a film,” says Nivin.

As for 'Bangalore Days', when Nivin heard the story he told Anjali that the film would do well. “All the factors needed for the success of a film were there, like humour, emotions, thrills, and romance,” he says.

Asked whether the audience's tastes are changing, Nivin says, “They are ready to accept anything, provided it is interesting and presented in an attractive manner.”

Nivin says that the one reason for his own success as an actor is because he follows the 'Method' style of acting. “When I was doing '1983', I never went to the set and told myself that I am Nivin Pauly,” he says. “Instead, I behaved like my character Rameshan.”

When there was a lunch break, Nivin would spread a sheet on the ground and have a nap, like Rameshan, instead of relaxing in an air-conditioned room. He remained as Rameshan throughout the shoot. In 'Bangalore Days', Nivin played Kuttan who is a slightly foolish character. “Off-screen I tried to be like him,” he says.

This 'method' seems to be working. Nivin Pauly is now one of the hottest actors in Mollywood.

(Sunday Magazine, The New Indian Express, South India and Delhi)

COLUMN: Spouse's Turn

Rinna talks about life with the actor Nivin Pauly

By Shevlin Sebastian

Nivin and Rinna were expecting to spend a quiet night at the former's home after their marriage on August 28, 2010, at the St. Dominic's Church at Aluva. But a group of relatives and friends, including actors like Wilson Joseph and Aju Varghese, and director Alphonse, had other plans. Firstly, the couple were told to look for the bedroom keys. And so, Nivin and Rinna searched all over the house, but to no avail. Finally, through various clues, Nivin was able to take it out from the trouser pocket of Wilson.

When they entered the bedroom, they found it filled with balloons, small pieces of glitter and crepe paper. After they had cleared the bed, and were beginning to relax, the clock tolled at midnight. Suddenly, there was a loud sound outside the door. When a nervous Nivin opened the door, his friends laughed out aloud. They had burst crackers.

“It was an unforgettable experience,” says Rinna.

Rinna and Nivin met when they were B. Tech students at the Federal Institute of Science and Technology at Kochi. “We became friends very casually,” says Rinna. “We were part of a large group of friends who went for movies and outings together.”

After their studies, they worked together in Infosys, Bangalore. “There was a silent understanding that we liked each other,” says Rinna. “There was no formal 'I love you'.”

Soon, Nivin felt bored with his job, gave it up, and returned to Aluva. He had no idea what to do, although there was an underlying interest in acting. It was then that he got a break in Vineeth Srinivasan's 'Malarvadi Arts Club'. Thereafter, he began to get roles steadily and most of the films have become hits: 'Thattathin Marayathu', 'Neram', '1983' and 'Om Shanti Oshana'.

As the wife of an actor, it is no surprise that Rinna is a sounding board for Nivin regarding future roles and scripts ideas. “I usually react with my intuition, although I don't know much about movies,” says Rinna. “But finally, it is Nivin who decides whether to take the role or not.”

When asked about his plus points, Rinna says, “Nivin is an understanding person and is a family man. He loves to spend time with me and our two-year-old son, Dhaveedh (Malayalam version of David).”

In fact, the birth of Dhaveedh was the highlight of Nivin's life. “Nivin looked so happy when he held the baby in his arms,” says Rinna. “He had not held a small baby before. In fact, he often tells me that Dhaveedh is his good-luck charm. After he was born, Nivin got many roles and did well. My son loves Nivin more than me.”

So enamoured is Dhaveedh of his father that when he awakens every morning, and realises that his father is not at home, he will immediately ask Rinna to play the CD of ‘Malarvadi Arts Club’. “Dhaveedh has seen the film so many times, he knows it by heart,” says Rinna. “He will say, 'Next scene Appa will be coming. Appa will do this. That uncle will do this'.”

For the 100th day celebrations of 'Om Shanti Oshana', Nivin and Rinna took Dhaveedh to a theatre at Thiruvananthapuram to see it. “He was thrilled,” says Rinna. “Dhaveedh was clapping, and saying, 'Appa, appa'.”

Thanks to several hits, Nivin has become a much-in-demand actor in Mollywood. So, he is busy shooting most of the time. But after fifteen days on a shoot, he begins to miss Dhaveedh. So Rinna takes their son to the sets. “We went to Indira Nagar, in Bangalore, to watch the shoot of 'Bangalore Days',” says Rinna.

And the shoot was a happy time for Rinna. “After a long time, I saw Nivin having a lot of fun, laughing and joking, like he used to do in college. All the actors and the crew were pulling each other's legs. There was a nice rapport, because everybody is more or less of the same age: Dulquer Salmaan, Fahadh Faasil, Nazriya Nazim, Isha Talwar, Parvathy and Anjali Menon.”

Meanwhile, for Rinna, the only thing that upsets her about Nivin is that even when he is at home, he gets calls all the time or is attending meetings. “The one-on-one time with the family is becoming less,” she says.

In fact, the only time Rinna had Nivin all to herself was when they went for a holiday to Singapore, a few months after the marriage. “We relaxed and loafed around,” she says. “We travelled on the Metro and saw many tourist sites.”

Thus far, the major change in their marriage is that Nivin has become famous. So, people recognise the couple when they go out. “They come up to talk and take photos,” says Rinna. “Some fans even come home.”

It is a large bungalow at Aluva built by Nivin’s late father Pauly Bonaventure, who spent many years in Switzerland. And to add a touch of glamour, there is a black Audi parked in the driveway. Incidentally, Nivin's mother stays with them.

Finally, Rinna has this to say about successful marriages. “A couple needs to spend time with each other, share their thoughts and feelings, and have a mutual respect,” she says. “It is also important to listen to your partner.”

(The New Indian Express, Kochi and Thiruvananthapuram)

By Shevlin Sebastian

Photo by Melton Antony

The arrivals lounge at the Cochin International Airport was awash with two emotions: relief and happiness this morning. As cries of 'Oommen Chandy, zindabad' rent the air, 45 nurses, in their twenties and thirties, pushed their baggage carts, which had flower bouquets placed on top, through a crowd which consisted of relieved relatives, publicity-hungry politicians, curious onlookers, harried khaki-clad policemen, and TV reporters, who made desperate lunges with their mikes, looking for the inevitable byte. Most ignored them.

But, once outside, the nurses spoke freely and with relief, big smiles on their faces, surrounded by their families, happy to be alive, to be free, to be out of the maelstrom which is taking place in Iraq now between the ISIS militants and the Iraqi soldiers. Quite a few thanked the Indian government as well as Chief Minister Ooomen Chandy. There were hugs and kisses, even as tears rolled down from moist eyes.

It had, indeed, been a close shave with death.

And it was a relief to hear, from their first-person accounts, that they had not been physically harmed. There are far too many videos online, which shows the militants being trigger-happy, and killing people as if it were just a toy soldier's game.

Meanwhile, for some, there was a celebration, of sorts. Today is Nila Jose's 24th birthday and her family had thoughtfully brought along a birthday gift – a cream cake with red cherries. It was placed on a table. Then Nila was given a small knife. She cut a piece and quickly pressed it into her father's mouth. Her mother, as well as other relatives stood nearby and smiled.

“I am so glad to be back,” said Nila, who was clad in a green salwar kameez. “I must thank the Indian Ambassador [to Iraq] who was so helpful and caring.”

And now, life will go on. In the midst of all the din, one question was not asked: why are Malayali nurses going to these dangerous places for work? And for that, the politician has to take the lion's share of the blame. They have not provided an economy that creates sustainable jobs within the state. So young women have to go out, to earn money, for themselves and their families, and, sometimes, unnervingly, they have to put their lives on the line.

(The Sunday Standard, New Delhi)

The Kerala State Government's Gender Park has initiated She Taxis, a popular scheme where women own and drive their taxis. And the customers are women

By Shevlin Sebastian

Photo: Suma K. Nair by Manu R. Mavelil

It is 10.30 p.m. An Ertiga car glides into the Info Park at Thiruvananthapuram and stops in front of the branch office of a US-based IT firm. Soon, a group of women, in their early twenties, get into the taxi which will take them to their homes after the evening shift.

Once inside the car, the women have a freewheeling conversation about office politics, love affairs, plans for the future, recipes and movies. Sometimes, the driver joins in. It would seem like an ordinary taxi ride back home, except for one important difference: the driver is a lady. Her name is Suma K. Nair. And the taxi, which she owns, is called a She Taxi.

This concept was initiated by the Gender Park, an institution which is promoted by the Department of Social Justice of the Kerala state government. The idea grew out of a murder of a 23-year-old girl, Sowmya, on February 1, 2011 by a man called Govindachamy, while she was travelling in an empty compartment of a train from Kochi to Shoranur. Not surprisingly, the killing rocked the state.

And provoked sombre reflection at the Gender Park. “We thought about how to provide safe transport for women at night,” says Dr. PTM Sunish, the CEO. “At night, even if a woman calls for a taxi in the hopes of enjoying a safe journey, she may not be able to do so, because the male driver is capable of violence.”

In She Taxis, as the name indicates, all the drivers are women. And they have been provided with adequate security. “The cab and the control room, which is run by a private firm, Rain Concert Technologies, are connected 24/7,” says Sunish. “The control room is also connected to the police and emergency services like the ambulance and fire force.”

An alarm has also been installed inside the car. In case of an attack, the driver can activate it, which will set off a siren, that will be relayed to the control room. “This will make clear that the driver is in danger,” says Sunish.

Ever since the scheme was unveiled in December, 2013, there have not been any untoward incidents. The 31-year-old MS Sari, a She Taxi driver, smiles when asked about the dangers of driving at night. “No, I have no fears whatsoever,” she says. “The security systems are good. I have travelled safely to Kottayam, Kochi and Alleppey.”

Thus far, 23 taxis are operating in Thiruvananthapuram and another eight in Kochi. “We get far too many calls than the number of cabs we have,” says MK Muneer, the Minister for Social Justice. “To fill the lacunae, we will need a lot more drivers.”

So how does one become a driver? “Advertisements are put in the newspapers,” says Muneer. “During the interviews what we look for is whether the woman has a passion for driving. Otherwise it is difficult to do the job.”

Suma loves driving and has been doing so for the past ten years. The wife of a lawyer and the mother of two teenage children, Suma, 44, took a loan from a bank, and bought the Ertiga for Rs 9.4 lakh. She began driving on February 18, and has been working 24/7 ever since.

“I get five to six calls a day,” she says. “Most of the time, it is for trips in and around the city.” The charge is Rs 250 per hour for a maximum of 10 kms. Thereafter, it is Rs 14 per km.

As a woman, she bonds easily with her customers, who include doctors, engineers, advocates and housewives. Recently, an 80-year-old woman, Vijaylakshmi, arrived from Singapore, for Ayurvedic treatment. Suma took her all over the city, including temples and shops. “Vijaylakshmi was happy that I was there for her throughout her stay,” says Suma.

Meanwhile, the idea is catching on. In March, the Hyderabad Municipal Corporation, in consultation with the Gender Park, introduced five She taxis in the city. Other cities which have expressed interest include Bhopal, Bangalore and Delhi.

A confident Dr. KM Abraham, Additional Chief Secretary, of the Social Justice Department, says that She Taxis will engender a social transformation among women.

Suma agrees. “I feel a sense of freedom and empowerment whenever I am behind the wheel,” she says.

(Sunday Magazine, The New Indian Express, South India and Delhi)

COLUMN: Spouse's Turn

Reena talks about life with the artist Jitish Kallat, who is the curator of the Kochi-Muziris
Biennale, 2014

By Shevlin Sebastian

One day in February, 2005, artist Jitish Kallat went to the Khandelwal Nursing home in Bandra, Mumbai to see his wife, Reena. She was nine months pregnant.

When he entered the room, he saw that his wife was in deep pain. As he reached forward to console her, Jitish fainted and fell on the bed. It took a while for Jitish to be revived.

The pregnancy had been an overwhelming experience for him. “I remember how wonderstruck Jitish was when he saw the first sonography,” says Reena.

And despite the fainting fit, Jitish was present when Reena gave birth to a boy called Ahaan. “The birth of Ahaan was the high point of our lives,” says Reena.

Jitish and Reena had been classmates at the JJ School of Art in Mumbai. But it was not a typical romance. “It was about sharing our interests and spending time, more in libraries than anywhere else,” says Reena. “We would visit galleries, and meet friends from the theatre and art worlds. There was a lot of learning, growth and mutual understanding.”

But Reena did not agree with all that Jitish said or did. Inspired by the classic manifesto on art by American sculptor Claes Oldenburgh, Jitish and a fellow student did a performance in the class, where they mocked the JJ School and insinuated that it was 20 years behind, in terms of creativity and outlook.

“I disagreed with Jitish about how it was carried out,” says Reena. It was during their intense arguments about this that they realised that they had deep feelings for each other. But it was not going to be easy. While Jitish is a Malayali, Reena is a Punjabi. “Luckily, our families did not oppose us when we decided to get married,” says Reena.

It took place on September 12, 1999, three years after they graduated from the JJ School. Because Jitish's father had passed away, a year earlier, it was a low-key wedding, which was held at the Kochu Guruvayur temple at Matunga, Mumbai. “But my family was worried about our economic prospects,” says Reena. “In the 1990s, the art market was very small. In fact, we began staying in a one-room flat, and expected to make a modest living for a long time.”

But things have worked out well, thanks to a booming art market. Today, the couple live in a 2000 sq. ft. apartment in upmarket Bandra. Both Jitish and Reena have thriving careers and have exhibited all over the world.

So, they have been to places like Havana, New York, Venice, Gothenburg in Sweden and the Laurentian mountains of Southern Quebec, Canada.

“Those mountains were special,” says Reena. “Spending time in nature was wonderful, because it is a rare experience when you live in a city like Mumbai. We are very grateful for the opportunities life has given to us.”

But, as is well known, it is not easy for two artists to live together. “A lot of people ask me whether there is an intense competition between us,” says Reena. “Honestly, we have our share of disagreements, but the fact is that we have learned so much from each other, shared so much, and wished the best for the other. And that has helped us to preserve the relationship.”

Asked about her husband's plus points, Reena says, “Jitish is a sensitive person. He has been actively involved in the parenting of our child, Ahaan. For example, if our son is not eating, Jitish will invent a game and Ahaan will be so engrossed in playing it, that he is unaware that he is gobbling down the food. Jitish has the ability to make tasks very playful for Ahaan.”

Jitish has also been supportive of Reena. “In fact, he has been very respectful of my own career,” she says. “When I was focused on motherhood, Jitish would keep reminding me that I was far too talented, and that I should remain in touch with the art.”

Jitish, who is the curator of the 2014 Kochi-Muziris Biennale, is also a passionate man. “He invests his heart and soul in whatever he is doing,” says Reena. “What also helps is that Jitish has strong will power and determination. And that is why he has been successful.”

But Jitish is not very successful in keeping the house clean. “He is clumsy, and throws things about, but I have got used to it,” says Reena, with a smile.

Finally, when asked to give tips for a successful marriage, Reena says, “Do not have too many expectations before a marriage. What you sow in the marriage that you will reap. If your attitude is to only take from a relationship it will not work Lastly, you should enjoy all the challenges that life throws at you.”

(The New Indian Express, Kochi and Thiruvananthapuram)

Prof. TV Paul, of McGill University, Canada, has explored the country in depth in his engaging book, 'The Warrior State – Pakistan In The Contemporary World'

By Shevlin Sebastian

Photo by Suresh Nampoothiry

“One of the major grudges that Pakistanis hold against Indians is the loss of Eastern Pakistan, which became the new country of Bangladesh, in 1971, with the help of India,” says TV Paul, a Malayali, who is the James McGill Professor of International Relations at McGill University in Montreal, Canada. “They consider it as an act of perfidy that needs to be avenged.”

Paul says that there is a feeling of betrayal in Pakistan. “It is like two brothers dividing their ancestral property, and one not getting enough and feeling unhappy,” says Paul, while on a recent visit to Kochi. “Pakistanis feel that, during the 1947 Partition, they should have received more money, the whole of Kashmir, and more areas of Punjab and Bengal.”

Thanks to India's huge size, an insecure Pakistan wants to have strategic parity. “But that is difficult to achieve because they are economically unequal states,” says Paul. “So Pakistan has become friends with the USA and China to balance off India.”

The challenge for the Narendra Modi government will be to break down these barriers that have been created during the past 66 years. “It will take a lot of effort,” says Paul. “But I don't think Pakistan is ready for peace with India.”

And it does not help that Pakistan is one of the most violent and dangerous countries in the world now. That's because the security services have created a monster called the Taliban, which they are unable to control.

“The insurgents have created an uncertainty of life in Pakistan by their bold attacks, like the one at the Karachi airport on June 8th,” says Paul. “So people are not able to enjoy any degree of security as well as support from the state. Their daily lives are a challenge.”

And the Taliban could wreak havoc if they could get access to any one of the 110 nuclear warheads that Pakistan has. “This is a major concern for the international community,” says Paul. “However, there are two things that prevent this possibility.”

One is the 'Permissive Action Links' technology which the US has given to Pakistan. This prevents unauthorised arming or use of a nuclear weapon.

The second attribute is that the weapons are not mated. This means the components are kept separately. “So the Army will need a bit of time to assemble them,” says Paul. “However, the militants will try to capture some of these facilities, with the possible help from the jihadists within the army or the ISI (Inter-Services Intelligence) who have an interest to put the weapons in the wrong hands.”

All these and more have been elaborated on in Paul's lucidly-written book, 'The Warrior State – Pakistan In The Contemporary World', published recently by Random House India.

And his book makes it clear that the military continues to call the shots in Pakistan. “For any major initiative, with respect to India, Afghanistan, or the Taliban, the military takes the final decision,” says Paul. “The civilian government has been trying to get some autonomy, especially in foreign affairs and defence, but with limited success.”

However, Prime Minister Nawaz Sharif has been able to appoint General Raheel Sharif, his choice, as chief of the army staff. But whether Sharif will be able to transform the administration is yet to be seen. “For that to happen, the military has to agree on many things,” says Paul.

Meanwhile, the silver lining has been the judiciary. “Earlier, the judiciary used to act as the third arm of the government, but now it has shown an activism, which has kindled hope,” says Paul.

But even even as it is trying to send [former President] Pervez Musharraf to jail, the likely possibility is that the government will send him into exile. “So, it is unclear whether the judiciary can bring about fundamental reforms,” says Paul. “The lawyers who were demanding Musharraf's ouster were the same ones who applauded Mumtaz Qadri, the killer of Punjab governor, Salman Taseer.”

Taseer had appealed for a pardon for a Christian woman, Asia Bibi, who had been sentenced to death for allegedly insulting the Prophet Muhammad. “So there is a divisive tendency among the people,” says Paul.

The country is not only divided, but poor. This, despite getting $73.1 billion in aid from several international sources, between 1960 and 2012.

Unfortunately, most of the aid went for military purposes. “Pakistan bought several weapons, and a lot of the cash went into the coffers of the military and the civilian elite,” says Paul. “The funds were not used for education, economic development or poverty reduction. In the end the country has remained poor.”

Even being a one-religion country has not helped. “The use of Islam has failed to pacify the class and ethnic divisions,” says Paul. “Economic development has been uneven. Some ethnic groups are less successful than the others. Overall, it is a grim situation.”

(The New Indian Express, Kochi and Thiruvananthapuram)

For The Love Of Elephants

“He is Sincere and Honest”

The World of Terror

The Lightning Kid

“He is a family man”

“He is a Positive Person”

Soccer's Sorcerer

Living with Words and Images

Like a Bird In The Sky

“He is a Soft Person”

Encounters with Mollywood Stars

Fiat Is My Life

Like Sweet Wine

The Malayali Mindset

On a Hot Streak

“Nivin is a family man”

Relieved Nurses return from Iraq

'She' rules the Roads

Strokes of Love

“Pakistan is not ready for peace with India”