Way to the angel of love...

I’m chained in a wheeled cage
And pushed into a warren
Where wolves and hyenas flourish
And vultures slyly watch

It is the land of ghosts
Of blood and rotting corpse
Of spooky screams and horrid stink
It is the land of the lost

I can see gluttonous eyes
Roving over me
And cherry red drops
Dripping from the lips

And here comes a laughing chimp
That pulls my cage along
Laughing and whistling all the way
As hungry beasts run behind

Where am I taken away?
I do not know
Am I taken to the deep, dark world
Of eternal nothingness?

As I brood over the puzzling question
Comes the voice from nowhere
“You are taken to the boudoir of the princess
You silly moron.
You are bound to the angel of love
Who keeps her candles burn for you!”

Alone, all alone...

A solitary palm tree stands among the green grass

A slimy rivulet carries the sewage of the metro

A cowherd, clad in loin clothes, snores away the midday

In the shades of undergrowth in the distant corner

A gale that blows mellows the tropical heat

And the rhythm of the wind makes a sweet symphony

Everything is bright and sunny, yet I'm so morose

Standing in the balcony, down in the dumps

   

No one near me, nothing to perturb, yet somewhere within

A sense of fear, a feeling of loss and a lump in my throat

Yeah, it pains me to be there lonely on the planet

Like the pus in a wound that turned septic

I can hear the honking of vehicles away in the city

See dark smokes from chimneys enveloping the sky

The siren of an ambulance goes soft as it moves far

The white painted structures shimmer in the mirage

The iron grill gets hotter and my heartbeats grow higher

A mystifying twinge engulfs my soul

Oh! How long have I been standing in the loggia?

I'm lonely and sad - waiting for my love

These guys must be crazy!

As I was strolling along the lush green precincts of the Public Gardens on a misty morning, past the jogging roly-poly figures and the skipping hour-glasses, I spotted a gathering near the pond, staring at the greasy green waters adjacent to the Jubilee Hall. I joined them out of sheer curiosity. After a while, I could see some chelonians slowly moving upwards to the slimy surface and suddenly the poolside was abuzz with chants. They folded their hands in reverence and made their wish. Wish granted, and they dispersed, a fresh group taking the place.
It is believed that if they stand keeping their wish strongly in mind, the tortoises appear and if they catch your glimpse, your wish will be granted. How or when the belief originated, nobody knows. But recent times have witnessed an increasing number of people thronging the pond, with long wish lists to be granted.
Sounds a bit bizarre, but a fact is a fact. This is not a singular case. There is
Lord Balaji at Chilkur, who is believed to grant wishes of VISA aspirants and here behind the lane of Lad Bazaar, if you buy and free the caged crows and pigeons, you can recover from a nagging ailment. The dargah at Kowkur is full of chained people as it is believed that if a mentally imbalanced person is tied to the dargah walls, he or she will recover from the malady. If these weird beliefs existed in boondocks or small towns, we can attribute it to ignorance. But in a fast growing city, it sure sounds a little absurd, though.
I spoke to a few people about this.
“I have been a regular jogger in Public Gardens for so long. I noticed people gathering near the pond. When one day I enquired what was going on, they told me this. I too joined and believe it or not, two of my wishes have come true,” says Nisha Mohan, an executive with a garment store. “I was born and brought up here in Basheerbagh, but never knew such a thing was here till recently,” she says.
Arun Vohra, a software engineer, doesn’t take the weird belief. “This is absurd. The mindset of our people should change. One fine morning someone comes up with a cock and bull story and whole lot of people go by that. It’s high time we should be aware of the hard reality rather than nurturing stupid beliefs.”

“This is a phenomenon called magical thinking. Common people have no idea of science.  This way of thinking is intrinsic to humanity. Many articles in neuroscience have shown that the human brain excels at pattern matching, but that humans do not have a good filter for distinguishing between perceived patterns and actual patterns,” says Dr P Indira, professor in History, Koti Women’s College. “People tend to seek confirmation of their hypotheses, rather than seeking refutation as in the scientific method. People are also reluctant to change their beliefs, even when presented with evidence, and often prefer to believe contradictory things rather than change pre-existing beliefs,” she says.

Wonder cars, all around!

While talking about various incredible creations across the globe, who can forget Sudhakar, a Guinness Record holder from mana Hyderabad for making the largest tricycle in the world?

Sudhakar is no ordinary man. He runs the first and only handmade wacky car museum in the world, situated at Bahadurpura near Jawaharlal Nehru Zoological Park in the old city.

This handmade car museum contains 150 different designs of cars, 20th century models of buses and cars, bicycles, motorcycles…And when it comes to various designs, you name it, and he has it. From Go Karts and Dune Buggies to wacky cars like Cricket Ball Car, Saucer Car, Helmet Car, Football Car…. Sudhakar has everything and the list goes on and on.

He has 30 different designs of bicycles and motorbikes which include both single and double-seaters named ‘Tandems’, ‘Velocars’, ’Lightfoots’ etc. These include India’s smallest bicycle of about 6 inches high. The smallest motorbike of 13 inch high can travel at a speed of 30kmph.
 
Sudhakar known as the maker of wonder cars began making such weird vehicles at the age of 14. His creations are not just show pieces. They motivate the youth to try their luck at their talents. The Cricket Ball Car was made to cheer Team India for 2003 World Cup and Foot Ball Car for commemorating the 2006 FIFA football cup in Germany.  He made the ‘Condom Car’ for social awareness. The best part thing about these vehicles is that they are made of scrap, showing his commitment and love towards environment.

These vehicles have been test driven during the Traffic Safety Week on Necklace Road for many consecutive years. Sudhkar is busy preparing different designs of projects which would come to reality soon.

Sudhakar has bagged several acclaims including Limca and Guinness records.

Treasure trove of knowledge

While the general norm is that Old City is perennially backward and poverty and hooliganisms are the order of the day, the truth is it also houses a treasure trove of knowledge. Scholars and knowledge-hungry lots swarm in large numbers in the narrow by-lane of the walled old city to acquire knowledge stored in rare and ancient books.

And the sellers of those uncommon treatises near Charminar are happy and content.
People from high-ranking officials from the city to renowned scholars from across the globe have been here for getting rare books at the old book shop near Charminar. Not just officials and scholars, even politicians visited here to purchase the book of their choices.

The shop called Haziq & Mohi, is owned by two brothers Ahmed Bin Mohammed Bafanna and Awed Bin Mohammed Bafanna.

The road from Charminar to Hussaini Alam has many book shops but this shop is quite inside, one has go from the main road to the left by-lane towards the Murgi
Chowk and near Gafooria Ice-cream parlor which is famous landmark in the area.

The shop is situated between the two lanes, and one can have a look from either side of the shop as it has openings each side. Thousands of the books from ancient times are available here. They are in many languages including Arabic, Persian, Urdu, Hindi and Telugu.

The shop is now covered as new structures have come up and roads are in bad shape. The drainage system is not in place well in this area. When it rains heavily, water enters into the shop and damages many rare books which are kept on the lower side of the shelves.

The state government is not concerned about the prevention or screening of the rare books available here. The owners do not have any assistance for the maintenance of the shop and preservation of books. However, the owners have a large family to support and this only business hardly gets them enough food for the day.

The shop contributed books to the libraries of Harvard, MIT, Oxford, and McGill. The booksellers played an important part in reclaiming and saving books from the private libraries of Hyderabad’s erstwhile aristocracy.

This is one of the few antiquarian book shops in India. The book store itself is the size of a large closet. But it reserves within invaluable books, stacked from floor to ceiling, which are any scholar’s delight.

From a 100-year-old copy of Hairatul Fiqah (a book describing the wisdom behind
Islamic juridical rulings) to Gulzar-e-Awliya (on the lives of saints) and oversized bound volumes of Hyderabad state census from 1800s, anything is available in this shop.

The owners Haziq & Mohi know the relevance of the books and can produce volumes upon volumes on any subject. If perchance they don’t have the books, they will be on the prowl all over the city to procure them for you.

A bound photocopied version of Tragedy of Hyderabad written by Hyderabad’s last
Prime Minister Mir Laiq Ali is also made available for interested people.

Despite his best efforts, Bafannas have not been able to convince their families after the death of a patriarch not to divide multi-volume books. This has resulted in several incomplete sets of books in his shop.

This shop has many rare manuscripts of Indian History as well as Islamic History.
People come from all over the world to purchase books and manuscripts from this shop as these books are not available in any modern book stall.

The owners of this book shop are well-known personalities, being popular names in many major countries like U.S.A., Canada, Europe, Saudi Arabia and Dubai.

In service of the dead

At a time when millions of wretched souls, abandoned by near and dear, are praying gods to take their lives back as there is no one to look them after, what is the condition of their bodies once the souls leave them for good?  

Hundreds of unclaimed bodies are lying in morgues in hospitals across the city and authorities are unsure as to what to do with them. After waiting for some time, the municipal workers dispose off the bodies most unceremoniously, who cares if their souls rest in peace or not?

Yes, city-based Satya Harischandra Foundation does. It is into cremating unclaimed bodies with all rites and ceremonies. “We have several volunteers working with our foundation. Even students spend their time for conducting funerals of unclaimed bodies.
During 2006-2009 alone, our foundation has performed final rites for 851 bodies from Gandhi Hospital and 1,303 from Osmania General Hospital (OGH). We also traced about 270 cases of missing complaints filed in various police stations in the city,” said Rajeshwar Rao, founder of Satya Harischandra Foundation.

Rao, who was forced to discontinue education at intermediate level, realized the need to perform the last rites of unclaimed bodies at an early age.  “In 1996, when I was working in a photo studio at Afsalgunj, near OGH mortuary, we used to inhale foul smell emanating from the mortuary. One day I visited the mortuary with the help of my father, who was working as fourth class employee in the OGH. I found a huge dump of unclaimed bodies there. It was then I started thinking how to justify my journey.”

“I managed to get permission from the authorities to perform the final rites of the unclaimed bodies after much effort in 2009,” Rao said.

“Because of my service to the dead through the foundation, I have faced many personal problems. I have lost my property, faced the wrath of my relatives. We are not invited to any function, our family members are boycotted by our relatives. Even my two brothers are involved in this activity due to which they have suffered a lot. Initially we could not find matches for them but now they are married, though very late. Now things are ok,” Rao explained.

“Our website www.unknownbodies.org regularly provides information about unclaimed bodies,” adds Rao.

Why the caged birds sing…

This little bird flap its wings,
Flaps its wings, flaps its wings,
This little bird flaps its wings,
And flies away in the morning
                           
                                        -Sarah Williams

An old nursery rhyme goes like this. But here in Hyderabad, our little birds do not fly in the mornings, flapping their wings. You must be wondering where all the birds are, then. Well, walk into Kabootar Khana near the historic Charminar and you will find them aplenty, all in cages, though.
Bird lovers are flocking the city of Nizams, who were said to be ardent bird lovers. As is the king, so are the subjects, they say. And proving this adage true, Hyderabadis too are known for their love of birds.
In an ever expanding metro, where concrete jungles drove away winged beauties from their abodes, finding a bird is a tough task, but Kabootar Khhana has many of them. Birds of all kinds, hues and sizes…
Kabootar Khana is also known as Mahabub Chowk or Bird Market. It has become popular worldwide for stocking and breeding unique foreign birds. You get all breeds of birds expect the banned ones right from a pair of Indian Black Crow that is sold for Rs 40 to a pair of Australian breed Rose Breasted Cockatoo that costs a whopping Rs 6 lakh!
“A pair of African Grey Parrot that costs Rs 60,000 needs a minimum space of two rooms with wooden trunk and plantation. Then only they breed,’’ Abdul Fasiuddin, one of the bird breeder said.
You can also buy trained mynas that can talk. The strange thing is the myna also abuses you if you do not respect it. “This taking myna costs you Rs 20,000 and a businessman from Vijayawada has already booked it,’’ Moin, owner of a bird shop, said.    
“The White Faced African Ratino and Australian breed Rose Breasted Cockatoo are on high demand as the breed is rare and adoptable to the Indian climate,” Shaik Afsar, owner of another bird shop at Chowk, said.
This market has 15-20 shops. You may be surprised to learn that more than 300 families in Hyderabad depend on bird breeding. The bird breeders in the Chowk have direct contact with the breeders in other states. They collect the best breeds and sell them to breeders in Delhi from where they are exported to the foreign breeders.
Other birds available are Jocobin Yellow, Archangel, Voorburg Cropper, Macaws, Rainbow Lory, Golden Peasent and Cocktails.
“Turkey fowl sells for Rs.200 a pair, and is known for its graceful dance by spreading its feathers just like peacock,” Basith, another bird seller, said.
“I get excited to watch these lovebirds,” said Aziz, a VIIth class student from Tolichowki. “My daughter is very much interested in listening to their voices and playing with lovebirds after school hours at home,” Anita Said, the mother of a six year old girl from Jubilee Hills, said.
But animal rights activists are not so pleased to see this mute creatures being caged and sold. Vasanthi Vadi, Secretary of People for Animals (PFA) says, “Birds are not happy in cages.” PFA is a voluntary organization working for animal welfare and animal rights. “Animals have the right to lead a painless and happy life,” She said. “We request all people who love animals and believe it is the duty of every human being to protect our animal friends to join us in our endeavor,” Vasanthi told this correspondent.

Looks do matter

When surrounded by glamour, which is the name of the game in segments like hospitality, aviation, FMCG, fashion and entertainment, it’s pretty essential for the urbane populace to look and feel beautiful.

‘Beauty in the flesh will continue to rule the world,’ – Florenz Ziegfield.
The aphorism does fit with the Gen-Y, who doesn’t hesitate shelling out thousands on ‘good looks’ to turn heads. And, making most of the situations are salons and parlors in the city, multiplying in numbers by the day.
“The surge in demand for beauty services has the size of industry grow at 15-20 percent annually (a turnover of Rs 2,000 crore) in India this year,” informs Ch Anuradha, director, Anoo’s International Beauty School (AIBS).

Right from hair coloring, manicure, facials, waxing and body massage to electrolysis, chemical peels, micro derma, weight management treatments and aromatherapy… you just name it, the salons have it.
A cursory glimpse at the parlors in the neighborhood would give an inkling of the ever-growing beauty ‘requirement’, which was hitherto a choice, of the conscious-self in the recent times. Twenty-eight-year old Sandhya Rani Panigrahi, lecturer in Chemistry at a city college says, “To be the center of attraction is every individual’s desire. Since people tend to pay attention to minute of details, it is a ‘must’ to project oneself the right way.”

Not so extravagant though, as she underlines, Sandhya does get a touch-up every now and then. “I’ve good many followers among students,” she winks.
Dr Fathima, a cosmetologist with Not Just Skin Deep Clinic at Banjara Hills quips, “India is a country where beauty ages back to ancient times. However, it caught the fancy of one and all, irrespective of gender and age, only just. After all, looking beautiful is a feel-good factor that helps boost one’s confidence levels.”
Certainly, chips in Anwar-ur-Rehman, a 37-year-old pilot. “Beauty has its charm spread all over. And, the Hyderabadi men too are unflinchingly going for a ‘metro’ look.”
Not to forget, beauty is directly proportional to the healthy living of individuals. “So staying close to nature is much important. Hence, I study physiology and anatomy of an individual before going for treatment,” states Vijayalakshmi, proprietor, Mirrors Spa & Salon at Banjara Hills.
Meanwhile, the foray of corporate and international players has added to the demand. “The industry will require five lakh beauty specialists in the next four years, making beauty a hot pursuit for all,” points out Monica Bahl, Head (National Operations), VLCC Institute of Beauty Health and Management.
The sprouting parlors in every nook and cranny of the city testify to the same. “So, please visit a trained beautician,” cautions Vijayalakshmi. Point taken!

From the land of Queen of Sheba...

It is a country within the city. Traditional and god-fearing folks, distinct clothes, mouthwatering guavas, apparel and artificial jewelry brought from West Asia, irresistible dish haleem that is available for 365 days a year… This is Barkas, known as mini Yemen in the old city of Hyderabad.

The residents here are descendants of home of the Queen of Sheba, settled in the city a century ago. A group of Yemenis migrated to Hyderabad to join the army of Nizam and settled here, overwhelmed by the beauty and culture of the city. The Yemeni families used to live in the barracks made for army personnel during the Nizam’s Rule. The barracks later came to be popular as Barkas.

Comparing to other parts of the city, Barkas has an entirely different culture and lifestyle. People here live like their counterparts in Saudi Arabia or Yemen. They are very religious, truthful, and they love sports, especially wrestling. Majority of people in this area mostly eat meat.
Instead of tea, the people drink decoction, made by adding tea powder and sugar in boiled water. It is said to have medicinal powers that can prevent stomach deceases. Another drink - Ghawa - is served to the guests. Interestingly, no hotel in the area prepares tea with milk.

Men wear special dress - Toop or Kurta with lungi for lower body while women wear full hijab (burqa that covers the entire body from head to toe) at home and outside. Specially designed Arabian slippers are worn by youngsters and men. For young girls, there are lots of apparels brought from different countries. Many people come here for shopping as quality stuff is available here for cheaper rates.  

“Marriages here are done in a simple manner. We don’t waste money on lavishness and dowry,” Abdur Rahman, a resident, said. “Elders choose the bride and then in a simple home ceremony, the marriage is performed,” he added. “We do not encourage the dowry system.”

“The youth in our area have been brought up with discipline. They don’t dare to tease girls,” said Haji, a businessman. “Our ladies don’t go for shopping in Barkas as elders don’t like it,” he said. “As far as home requirements are concerned, men take up the responsibility,” he said.

People of Barkas get up early in the morning and go to bed early at night. Business starts after the Fajr prayers (early morning Namaz). One the darkness descends, everyone prepares to close their shops and go home.

Barkas is famous for guava fruits. People come from faraway places only to have the mouthwatering guavas available here. One can find variety of bangles and artificial jewelry brought from the Gulf. They are sold for a song. Other household goods are also sold here.

Hyderabad’s special food haleem is available 365 days in Barkas, but you have to get here early and have it before 11a.m except in the month of Ramadan.

However, if you want to see Yemen in Hyderabad, it’s time to head for Barkas!

A ‘holy’ custom that forces women into prostitution

A city woman belonging to sexual minority has determined to stand up and fight. Shyamala Devi, a transsexual and a social activist in the city, is up in arms against the 500-year-old social evil Jogini system. “It is a shameful act done by people of the upper caste on the lower caste minor girls to fulfill their sexual desires,’’ says an angry Shayamala Devi.

Shayamala Devi, who has been fighting against prostitution in the name of Jogini system in Hyderabad and the entire state, is busy wiping tears of innocent victims of an evil practice in the name of tradition.

She has determined to fight against the sexual harassment in the name of Jogini for which she is even ready to join politics. “Not that I’m interested in politics, but I will join one which supports my cause and promises to fight against the injustice meted out on hundred of innocent girls,” Shyamala becomes vociferous.

“I have formed Sahaya Jogini Welfare Society to support the victim of the evil system. There are many Joginis in some parts of Hyderabad, but they do not come out in the open as in villages,” she says.

While 95 per cent of joginis belong to the Scheduled Castes and Scheduled Tribes, only a small percentage belongs to the Backward Castes. Even today, on every Tuesday and Friday, joginis go around the village, carrying a slate in their hands which says that they are joginis and beg for food. During weddings, death ceremonies and religious fairs, joginis are invited to bless the event.

“Recently I received a call from a minor girl in Karimnagar who was forced to become a jogini. I sprung into action and rescued her,” Shaymala said. “I will see that the children of joginis are given the same status like other children and not treated as untouchables,” she sounded determined.

After conducting a survey on joginis, Shayamala says she was shocked to learn that there are more than 30,000 joginis in the state and 400 of them in Hyderabad itself. Surprisingly neither the government nor any organization seems concerned about the existence of the jogini system.

Joginis are women forced into prostitution by a religious custom known as devadasi in India. Young girls are married to a local deity and afterwards it becomes their religious duty to provide sexual favors to the local men, usually those of the higher castes.
This practice was banned in 1988, but the law is not being enforced in all parts of India.

No Bhutto song, no wedding!

Music has no barriers, no doubt, but when it comes to political party anthems, one should be a bit careful while singing. But it seems for us Hyderabadis it is ‘who cares a damn?’
In what sounds like an off the wall trend in the making, the whole city is now dancing to the tunes of the political anthem of Pakistan People’s Party, apparently oblivious of the origin of the song. Attend any marriage function or a small function in any part of the city, be it of Muslims’, Hindus’ or Sikhs’, you can see the participants dancing in glee to the tunes of the PPP song, full of praises of its slain president Benazir Bhutto!
This most preferred music in Hyderabadi marriages or even a small function is the very same Dila Teer Bija where they sing paeans of the former Pakistan President.  
Not only Muslims, but people belonging to every community dance to this song which is the title song for the PPP. Even though some of them know that the song is originated from the neighboring country, still they insist on playing it. On many instances, the music players were manhandled and abused by dancers for not playing this particular music.
“The first song that we learn is Jeay Bhutto. We also learn teen maar but the people love to dance on this song. Not only they dance but also demonstrate their skills on bow and swords while dancing in marriage parties. The music is slow and beats are very loud and clear. Even old can easily dance to it,” Nasir Ahmed, a music band player said.
“Iss music pai dance karay bhagair khoi shadi puri nahi hoti (Without this song, no marriage is complete in our city). There are more than 100 different music bands in Hyderabad and all are perfect in Jeay Bhutto Benazir. We have been playing music in marriages for the last 15 years. Even now the people are crazy about this music,’’ M  Pavan, who runs Pavan Band said.
“Is it so? I did not know that it is Pakistani music. So what? It hardly matters to me. The music is excellent and we play it every time in our functions and marriages,” Raju Yadav, a businessman said. “Music and dance has no religion. Once we start dancing, we totally get involved into it and in fact it is a sort of relaxation,” Raju said.
Bija Teer Bija was first sung by PPP women activists for Benazir Bhutto when she was elected the Prime Minister in late eighties. Later, Pakistani composer Zahoor Khan Zebi composed it for the PPP and the album was named Awami Tohfa.
On June 18, 2010, a soundtrack of the documentary Bhutto was released by her daughter Bakhtawar. Bhakthawar teamed up with Stewart Copeland (ex-drummer for Pakistani police) to rework the PPP iconic song Dila Teer Bija.  Later Copeland, composed Dila Teer Bija featured in the film Bhutto.
But for Hyderabadis, it just another song that gives them kick during functions!

Naked Truth

Fiction: Engleby
Author: Sebastian Faulks
Publishers: Vintage Books
Price: Rs 295

Sebastian Faulks proves his talent in Engelby, without doubt. The story is narrated by Mike Engleby. The protagonist is telling his story beginning in the 1970s with his second year at an ancient university.

Engleby has already lived a difficult life, bullied at school and beaten by his father, and he isn't fitting in well at university. He's detached, rude, and possibly with an unsound mind.

He becomes fascinated with a female student named Jen, following her, if not stalking her, wherever she goes, until he discovers her diary and her comments about him. When Jen disappears, the police consider Engleby a suspect, but her body is never found. He goes on to become a journalist, but as a narrator to his own life's story, he's unreliable, and it all begins to unravel on him.

Sebastian Faulks' novel has received mostly positive reviews. Telegraph wrote: “Within the grand design of his narrative themes, Engleby's systematising nature allows Faulks the opportunity for bravura flourishes of 1970s period detail - the drugs, the music, the florid excesses of pre-Murdoch newspaper printers, the serpentine convolutions of suburban roundabouts, and so on. The combination of serious purpose and playful execution is intensely exhilarating.”

Set in the 1970’s in Oxford  and London, Engelby is a stunning portrait of a life going terribly wrong ,told by the protagonist as who really doesn’t see his world unfolding around him – to a very dramatic conclusion.

Faulks writes it in the same way that you peel an onion – stripping off layer after layer, till the end - all that’s left is the naked truth. It’s really terrific.

Wanna have some tee and snakes?

One funny man once asked: Why is it that writers write, but fingers don’t fing, grocers don’t groce, and hammers don’t ham?  

It seems we Hyderabadis too are likeminded. Displaying freaky graffiti on bikes and cars are Hyderabadi youth’s forte, it seems. Look at those various funky sounding one-liners. You are sure to get befuddled to note some of them. A one liner on the back of an auto rickshaw reads: Love for all, hat red for none! Didn’t understand a thing? Hello, that is HATRED, now you got it? That’s the basic knowledge of average Hyderabadi.

If you happen to sip a cup of tea at the stall just opposite the Jubilee Bus Station in Secunderabad, you are sure to vomit once you notice the signboard. It says: Murugan Tea Stale!

A bakery on the main road which leads from Tad Bun to Bowenpally proudly displays its board: Breads 2 Kakes!  Worst still, an Irani tea stall in the old city reads: Naaz Restaurant: Tee and Snakes!

A gate in front of a house in the opposite lane of Chandana Brothers at Chikadpally carries a warning board. Don’t park in front of the gate: The air from the tire will be taken out!

Howzzaaaaat?

Noisy nights are back!

Nights are slowly becoming lively on the streets of Charminar. With the marriage season on and the holy month of Ramadan is being observed, night life in the old city is turning colorful by each passing day.

The people here say they have no worries now, as there are no terror threats of late. With narrow lanes along which small houses accommodate large families, the backstreets of Charminar present a unique sight.

Thousands of people from the old city travel to the new city for work everyday. By evening, they return home in crammed buses and auto-rickshaws and many on their own vehicles.

Now it’s time for the night life in Hyderabad’s old city. “All is well,” says Mazher Hussain, a petty job holder. “This year is rather peaceful with less agitations and curfews,” he adds.

Come to historic old city at night, and one can notice the amusing sight of people purchasing vegetables, shopping at cloth stores, having good time at hotels, rushing at food joints and struggling to park their vehicles.

“The business is getting to normalcy for the last two weeks. The police are not harassing the traders as the old city is running in a peaceful manner,” Azam, a hotlier, said.

“Hyderabadi biryani is an all-time favorite dish, but in the month of Ramadan, Haleem takes over it,” said Sahil, manager of a hotel. “Nahari with Paya and Zabaan is also a special dinner item. Kebab and roti, and shaami parata are the night dishes. People also take parcels while returning from their duties,” he added.

With the situation in the old city being safe and peaceful, night life is buzzing and people from the new city too are thronging to catch the glimpse of uniqueness of life here.

Ugly picture of human nature

Fiction: The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo
By Stieg Larsson

Translated by Reg Keeland
Penguin Books, Rs 350

Stieg Larsson, a Swedish journalist, could not live to see his Millennium Trilogy becoming a runaway hit across the world. But his three works have been received well by people across borders. The first in the series, The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo presents the ugly picture of human nature, more so Swedish men’s treatment of women.

Sadism, murder, suicide and a lot of casual sex are commonplace in Larsson’s book. The story begins when Henrik Vanger, an octogenarian industrialist, hires Mikael Blomkvist, a journalist who has just lost a libel case under murky circumstances, to investigate the disappearance of his great-niece, Harriet.

Blomkvist takes up the case and hires Lisbeth Salander, a 24-year-old computer hacker with a photographic memory, violent temper and some serious intimacy issues to assist him in his probes.

The novel picks up momentum as their investigation progresses and in the end Harriet’s case turns out to be connected to a series of murders in the 1950s and ’60s. Though at places the book is dragging, as a whole Larsson’s book gives an exciting reading.

Fast, and then feast!

The holy month of Ramzan is here, and foodies in the city are busy relishing the irresistible haleem while traders are making a killing 

It’s time for yet another round of fasting, fervor and piety. Yes, Ramzan is here and devout Muslims are observing the holy month with grandeur. When we think of Ramzan fast, who can afford to miss the thoughts of an evening feast with mouthwatering haleem?
Hyderabadi haleem is known the world over for its taste. And not just Muslims, people of all communities in Hyderabad are busy relishing that irresistible dish.
But folks, times are changing and you may not know. Unlike earlier, one does not need to wait all year long to taste the unique food item. There are some stalls that serve haleem round the year in some parts of the city. Haleem seems to have become a daily dish of the Hi-tech city residents.

Foodies of Hyderabad travel even eight to 12 kilometers just to have a bite of haleem, as it is not commonly available. But Koti, the nerve centre of Hyderabad, has some food joints where one can have the delicious Ramzan dish.

“I came all the way from Mehdipatnam to King Koti just to eat haleem,” said Durre Shehwar, an NRI on a visit to the city. “Preparing of haleem is a lengthy process that cannot be done at home as we are all busy with other works,” she told. “It is only available in Hyderabad and we love to eat it whenever we visit India,” she added.

It will take 10-12 hours to prepare. The ingredients used are wheat flour, meat, spices and
ghee. Sprinkled with lemon juice and spicy masala to add to the flavor, haleem remains one of the most sought after food items in the city.

Though haleem is made of mutton or chicken, surprisingly even vegetarian haleem is in our city. The idea has become a hit with people and now they eat it regularly as it is a high-calorie dish.

The price per plate varies from Rs 20 and up to Rs 70. Each plate of haleem weighs between 200 and 400gms. Pista House is one outlet popular for quality haleem. It also exports haleem to major countries in the world. It sells through 160 outlets and three main branches in the city in the month of Ramzan only.

“Bollywood stars like Govinda, Salman Khan, Dilip Kumar, Dia Mirza and Karishma
Kapoor order haleem and we deliver it through courier service,” said Mohsi, manager of
Pista House. “The average sale of haleem is nearly six million during Ramzan,” he added.
Haleem sellers are all smiles and so are the foodies!

When the sky drops down…

Huge waves embrace the sandy beach

A lone eagle flies around in the distant skies

Silvery froths draw fascinating figures

Scattered oyster shells group and then regroup

Blowing breeze makes an unending whistle

Wayward crabs try to cling to some rocks

The mast of a vessel rises from the deep

Slowly moving to the shoreline so slow

We lay on our back in the sprawling sand

Gazing at the sky, and myriad pictures

That clouds form in the canvas of firmament

The whole world comes under heavenly dome

Now the blue turns a blanket

It falls on us, who lay on the sand

No, it is now nothing but a feathery bed

Passion is strong, pangs so blissful

Lips search for each other

Tongues so hungry to feel the throbs

Of each cells on the silky skin

I see your love, I feel your thrill

And I find your caress a divine one

I turn wild, full of fondness…

You are the queen of my craving soul!

Cross Cultures

I chanced upon some Naga dancers recently at Hyderabad's film city. A few moments of conversation with them took me down memory lane. Over a decade ago, my craving for out-of-the-world experiences led me to Nagaland, with its green valleys and blue mountains.

I managed to get a teaching job in the valley of Mount Saramati. Thus started my exploration of villages shrouded by dense forests and their strange conventions and folklore. This small hilly region had more than 22 tribes with as many dialects. Ao, Angami, Injungar, Naga, Kuki, Zeliang... Innumerable too were the costumes and traditions. It was an unreal world.

In the initial days, I was told that the tribals were very aggressive. I was even told that they wouldn't mind butchering the tall, hairy people from "India"! Although I didn't believe it completely, there was always fear lurking in my mind as I strolled past groups of tough-looking youth.

Once I was back from the Kachar hills in Assam and on my way to Peren, a village bordering the Peleki forests. There was just one bus to Peren from Dimapur in a week and, after a wait of 24 hours, I managed to catch it. The rickety bus started its journey. I was the only passenger who was not a Naga. After the usual checking of I-cards at the Chemakkudima check-post, the bus resumed its journey. Darkness began creeping up. And, lo and behold, the bus suddenly turned turtle to the combined screams of its passengers. No one was seriously hurt but the journey came to a grinding halt.

I was trapped. Everyone started walking and I followed. I tried not to be noticed but in vain. Women in "mekalas" cast looks at me, the youth appeared extremely curious about my origins. Thankfully, a truck belonging to the GREF, a paramilitary company operating in the region, stopped on its way to Peren and I, too, managed to get in. But fear still dogged me.

I stood among the women. An elderly man was squatting beside me, clad in the red shawl that indicated that he was a "gaunbura" or village chief. Though I was an ardent atheist then, I began to chant all the names of the gods my mother taught me. Suddenly I felt something on my ankle. Looking down, I found the "gaunbura" feeling my ankle. "Tu ki manu asede (what man are you)?" he asked. My relief was instant. "Amoi Kerala manu asede (I'm a man from Kerala)," I answered and explained that I was a teacher. "Iman lambu asede (how tall you are)!" remarked the "gaunbura", amidst laughter from the maidens around.

That was it. My fear was unfounded. Later, when I got closer to these innocent people in faraway hamlets, I realised what a decent sort they were. To this day, whenever I meet a Naga, I still feel a sharp pang of nostalgia.

Veiled!

Twilight dream

Twilight. I’m in the middle of a dream.
Intense flow of the brook
Moist-laden wind, murmur of the trees
The brook is a bride, placid and coy

I’m now in the stream. Currents are strong.
The strong undercurrents.

The brook is now wild. I’m feeling her love.
Her love is wet. I’m drenched in love

I’m now flowing with her.
Fast and full-bodied.
The brook twines around me. Wrapping me around.

She pants. Now she is all huffs and hisses.
The brook whispers. Her voice is soft
Her velvety touch.

Now I kiss her. Cuddle her. I’m passionate
This is good. It feels so good.
Her lips are sweet. She turns into a fairy.

My dream is now a melody.
Brook is a song. The fairy turns into a song.
The song grows to a crescendo
Pitch upsurges.

The dream doesn’t have an end. My endless dream.

Now, only the song.

Be a Peeping Tom, watch a bath scene live!

Oh, that is the case. Voyeurism is the in thing these days. Everything was hush-hush until some time ago. Now it’s public. Earlier Peeping Toms did it secretly, now we are all doing it together. Wah, wah, what a progress!
While in India, Poonam Pandeys, Sunny Leonas and Sherlin Chopras appear from out of the blue, all naked and steamy, using their breasts and thighs to promote cricket, green movements and what not, away in London, artists are busy showing bath scenes of voluptuous women, all live and no videos nor images.
So, those who are in the city on Themes for Olympics, here is a chance to take a peep through a keyhole of a bathroom, where those utterly butterly beauties, soaping in the bathtub, cleaning her face at the mirror, all completely nude!
I am not joking, buddy! The National Gallery, home of rarefied Old Masters and temple to long-dead artists, has inside its revered galleries the latest work by the artist Mark Wallinger - an exhibition Metamorphosis: Titian 2012. It showcases three Titians depicting the myth of Diana and Actaeon alongside new works made in response to them by three British artists Wallinger, Chris Ofili and Conrad Shawcross.
Once you enter the room that is pitch-dark and gropes your way around, you come across a window. The glass is opaque, but a corner of it is broken, and you place your eye against it. You can now see into a bathroom. And OMG, there is this irresistible woman, without even a bit of cloth, pampering her silky flesh all around! As you move around the outside of the room, you find other apertures: you stoop down to look through a keyhole, or peer through a chink in Venetian blinds. An unforgettable experience that makes visitor into a voyeur, a peeping tom!
"The myth of Diana and Actaeon is the ultimate fable about voyeurism," Wallinger was quoted as saying. "There is an extraordinary savagery with which Actaeon is dispatched and given a deadly metamorphosis. My purpose was to make that contemporary in the context of Titian and the National Gallery. This building, after all, is all about the history of the male gaze and the female nude."
All the best, you lucky guys, I badly miss this, though!

Growing out of ghosts...

It was like a haunted house, that ancient, double-storied building my mother had inherited. So many people had lived and died in it that we, the children, always believed that there was a poltergeist thriving in the dark, spooky corners of the palatial building, causing the wooden ceiling to creak every now and then. I kind of imagined it sliding down the rickety old staircase with its imposing balustrade.

Evenings always brought with them such scary visions and I never dared to go to the backyard, beyond which there was a hillock with innumerable cashew trees, which resembled a dense forest. To make matters worse, close to home, there was the place where they burnt the dead. Like any traditional Kerala home, our house too was situated in the middle of an estate, full of coconut and areca palms, mango trees bearing pepper vines and overgrown coffee plants scattered all around.

Once I entered boyhood and the delights of reading spooky fiction, I used to smuggle horror novels into my room from the nearby library and pore over them at the dead of night. This was prohibited activity, by the way. The elders had ruled that I was too young to read novels! But there was no way they could keep me from laying my hands on Bram Stoker, and the like.

One day, as darkness set in, I was lying down thinking of a possible spirit creeping into the room through the window and wringing my windpipe. As I got up to close the window, I could see a dull crescent in the distant sky.

Although the scene may have inspired an adult into writing poetry, for me it was a spine-chilling scene because, to my utter horror, I saw a blue flame rising to the sky, exactly at the necropolis. The shriek that rose in my throat brought the whole household to my side. All I remember of the incident was my lying on a hospital bed with high fever, attended to by a clutch of elders.

It took me many years indeed to realise the chemistry behind the “ghost” and the big role in its creation that the human imagination had played.

Later, when I came of age and became a full-time politician, I was returning home after attending a meeting in a distant village, all alone and on foot. The whole village was asleep and a sudden downpour lashed the area. I was completely drenched and was shivering with cold. Suddenly, to my great disbelief, I saw a fire rising in a thatched shed.

Desperate to make myself warm and to take refuge from the lashing rain, I made for the hut. It was certainly a relief to sit beside a warm fire. It took me awhile to discern that I had placed myself next to a funeral pyre! I decided, nevertheless, to stay until the weather cleared.

The next day, I heard people talking about a ghost, who was sitting in the cremation grounds at the previous night.

Venom that flows through faucets...

It is poison that flows through drinking water pipelines across the city. People and cattle fall dead after consuming what the authorities call ‘drinking water’. Children and the aged develop various ailments, women give birth to stillborn, birds and other animals die a miserable death. Yet no one notices. None cares.
Hyderabad Metro Water Supply and Sewerage Board (HMWS&SB) officials put the blame on civic body, who in turn passes it to unscrupulous industrialists, and the blame game goes on.  Elected representatives and responsible officials consume packaged drinking water to wet their throats while leading tirades as to who should be held responsible for this.
Even when nine people died and more than 250 people fell sick after consuming drinking water at Bolakpur in the city a couple of years ago, the authorities remained insensitive. Drinking water supplied in the metro still remains highly contaminated and the thick-skinned officials and uncaring political leaders continue to drink only mineral water while doing nothing to supply pure water to the public.
 Umpteen number of highly polluting industrial estates still continue to pose grave threats to the freshwater reservoirs of the city. A report by the Central Research Institute for Dry Land Agriculture, the Manjira River and Nizam Sagar, located in the northwest of the city, are in grave danger of contamination by pollutants from the Guddapotaram-Bolaram-Patancheru industrial axis, as they are located within 15km of the freshwater source.
Clinically confirmed cancer is 11 times higher and the prevalence of heart diseases 16 times more on the outskirts of Hyderabad, according to a study published by Greenpeace India in collaboration with the Lokmanya Tilak Medical College and Occupational Health and Safety Centre, Mumbai, Community Health Cell, St John's Medical College and NIMHANS, Bangalore.
Experts say that only a full-scale medical and public health investigation carried out on a war footing will reveal the exact extent of the damage done by the callous attitudes of the higher ups.
But the officials have made sure that they get only purified water. Apparently for this purpose, a filter bed was inaugurated at Asif Nagar by Krishnababu, the then MD of Hyderabad Metro Water Service & Sewerage Board (HMWS&SB) on February 14, 2009.
Article 21 of Indian Constitution ensures Right to Life as a Fundamental Right.
It represents right to live in healthy atmosphere. But even after the Bholakpur tragedy, the same situation is likely to occur at many places again, with Mettuguda in Secunderabad being the most vulnerable.
According the residents of Allagadda Bavi at Mettuguda, they are being supplied contaminated water even after a lot of hue and cry has been made. The residents alleged that the water supplied to them during uneven hours and that too for a short time, was highly contaminated.

US rape victim’s tear-jerking tale recounted

Way back in 2010, on the ill-fated July 6 evening, the victim came home as usual at around 9 and went to bed, unmindful of the tragedy lying in wait for her the next morning

Hyderabad Police is neither NYPD nor Scotland Yard. Pot-bellied cops are good at greasing their palms but not at cracking sensational cases. Lice have been feeding themselves with files of scores of cases that shook the nation time and again.

It has been two long years a US girl was brutally raped inside her rented penthouse at Banjara Hills house at gunpoint. Here is the heartrending story of the hapless victim.

The fate could not have been worst for a young woman who left her home for serving another country. First, she is brutally raped several times in her residence at gunpoint, then robbed of her cash and threatened to kill if she does not pay more. And finally when she goes to the police, what awaits her is more trauma than she has already been subjected. Finally she bids adieu to the city, with tears in her eyes, deep gashes in her heart and an indelible stigma that would haunt her for the rest of her life.

This is not the gist of a bestseller, but the hard reality that happened not in some faraway land, but in our very own Hyderabad.

Isabella Jones (name changed) came to Hyderabad three and a half year ago to work for an NGO - Clinton Foundation - with hopes of leading a happy life in her favorite country and serve the needy. Born and brought up in New York, Isabella joined the foundation and first worked in Cambodia for some time.

And when she boarded a flight to Hyderabad, poor Isabella never knew what fate had in store for her. Everything looked fine when she reached the city, she joined her office at Begumpet and took a pent house for rent in a duplex house in the upscale suburb of Banjara Hills.

On that ill-fated July 6 evening, she came home as usual at around 9 and dropped into the landlord's house on the ground floor. She spoke to the landlord, a retired professor of Osmania University, on topic of general interest, and presented him a book on nutrition. After about 20 minutes of small talk, Isabella climbed up the cast-iron spiral staircase to the room she has been living comfortably for months.

She made a few phone calls and then went to sleep. And all of a sudden, like in those western crime stories, in the wee hours of July 7, someone pounced on her out of nowhere in the darkness. Scared to death, Isabella jumped out of bed in an effort to flee. The attacker grabbed a frail and terrified Isabella, tore a piece of pillow cover and blindfolded her. Isabella tried to clutch the mugger's cheek with full force until his skin was peeled off. Suddenly, the ruffian pointed an assault weapon on her ribs and whispered, "Keep quiet and still. Otherwise, I'll shoot you." Isabella was petrified to death. She was unable to move. He tied her hands with a nylon rope and forced her to the bed.

And he raped her brutally, not once, but four times at a stretch. And even as Isabella was lying on the bed like a dead body, the psychopath went to the bathroom, had a shower and came back.

The horror didn't end there. He took some 600 Euro from her and threatened to kill her is she didn't make ready another Rs 5 lakh by July 8. Then, without leaving any clue, the rapist left the room.

Overpowered by shock and fear, a feeble Isabella called up her senior colleague Manohar and a close friend Dr. Ali. Then she called up the landlord and narrated the incident. Police were informed, and a complaint was lodged at the Banjara Hills police station. And what ensued was the usual police mockery.

In an apparent move to crack the case, different police teams acted but rather insensitively than intelligently. In the process they once again proved how ineffectual they are. Other than adding to the trauma of the agonized rape victim and harassing some innocents, the police could not do anything.

Shockingly, the police could not even find a single female police officer to elicit details from Isabella who felt humiliated by this inhuman attitude of the city police. Highly placed sources in the city police department told Hyderabad Journal that male officers questioned her time and again in such a sensitive case like rape.

Isabella later said she was subjected to humiliation and was being treated more as an accused than a victim, one of her close friends told Hyderabad Journal. She also told her friends that she had decided not to pursue the case anymore and was leaving Hyderabad forever.

No one knows where she is today. Hope she must be living somewhere far away peacefully trying to forget the Hyderabad nightmare…

Funny pet to sniff out the rapist!

While the cops handling the case turned out to be insensitive, the dog that was brought to the crime scene on the day of the incident proved that it would make a perfect pet who seeks pampering, and surely not a hard-nosed canine.

Named Shadow, the black police dog could not even climb the spiral staircase that leads to the rape victim's penthouse. The handlers had to carry it on their hands even as the investigating officers and onlookers burst out into laughter. Shadow, however, climbed down the staircase very carefully as though it was going to lead the cops to the culprit.

But Shadow did what nobody had expected, at least not the cops. The dog lifted its left hind leg and pissed even as the officials were eagerly looking for some leads, raising more laughter.

Shadow then walked down the street but returned without any result. The handlers had to carry it again to the penthouse. This time the handler did not get support from colleagues and had to carry the dog all alone. By the time he reached the penthouse, the handler was profusely sweating. Some police personnel were heard saying the dog appears more to be a pet than a trained one. Shadow has made the dog squad a laughing stock this day, they lamented.

Winter morn rapture

You stand like a fairy
In the silence of the attic
And me, like a wayward thief
Come calling on a winter morn

While you gently close the door
And go inside to get me coffee
I sit alone, waiting for your return
With that enticing smile

You come to me, with your killing looks
You engulf me like a breeze so smooth
I fall into a catnap, laden with dreams
You stand there, like an elf in the cavern

Your eyes are wide, weary and sad
I feel the moist in those dark shiny things
I come close to you
And you get so fragile

You fall into my hands
You heave a sigh so high
Me, turn into a rising blaze  
And swallow you into my burning soul

I kiss on your lips, soft and sweet
Fondle your hair and lean to your heart
Your silky touch and warm breath
Send me to frenzy, so dreamlike

I feel your heartbeats
I hold you tight
You now kiss me with all the might
And we both twine into one

I take your pains, all for me
I wipe your tears, grasp your palms
You take my love, all for you
And lo, the world comes to a grinding halt….

Indian women, a mere sex object?

The morning dawned with more appalling news. Newspapers were full of those lurid tidings. Boob tubes flashed gory images, virulent and nauseating. Among the hyped reports of heinous bloodshed, conspicuous were news of innumerable cases of rape and other forms of sexual exploitation. Not from some backwoods and boondocks, but from the 'so-sophisticated' squares of cities across the sub-continent.
Teenaged girl being molested by group of thugs on the street, young woman sexually assaulted and thrown out of a moving train, high-ranking bobbies giving vent to their lust on unsuspecting victims, cop on duty copulating forcefully with a girl student inside a police aid-post, girl-back-home being waylaid and gang-raped, fathers and brothers using their daughters and sisters for their carnal pleasures, unfledged students being made sitting ducks by fetish pedagogues and so on and so forth are the glaring news items that I have been forced to read of late.
And where are all those so-called feminists and pro-women activists? I remember my history teacher in St Mary's giving long lessons about the pride and honour Indian women enjoyed in the society from time immemorial.
News of sexual assault was something so unusual and freaky those days. But, now with the changing times, it seems that nobody bothers. Or what does it mean, when whole world knew what had happened at Best Bakery during Godhra carnage, a Teesta Seetalwad had to stand on the dock?
During different phases of history, when Bikhaiji Cama, Begum Hazarath Mahal, Rani Rashmoni, Rani Gaidinleu, Ahilyabai Holker, Aruna Asaf Ali, Rajkumari Amrit Kaur, Rukmini Laxmipati, Vijayalakshmi Pandit, Indira Priyadarshini and many more broke their backs day in and day out, they had other things to do.
Now, with so many women representing millions of Indian people in assemblies and in Parliament and thousands of them fiercely fighting for political ideologies and social status for women, why the atrocities against the fairer sex in an alarming rise?
With so many women political leaders and social activists around, what good a common female has availed from them or what security she has got to live as a decent citizen?
I tend to believe that something is blocking these female politicos and social activists from fighting for the cause of millions of their fellow beings. Because, quiet interestingly, I have never heard of any major feminist movement for any such social cause for a long time. Instead, female ratio is fast coming down and female foeticide is dismayingly high.
Men are, after all, men! Then who should take the cudgel? I am not getting any answers to my questions.
Rule of law, for that matter, never came to the help for those miserable lots.  No wonder an unruly crowd of women hacked a rapist to death on a court premise some time ago.

A love affair gone bad, or was she a pedophile?

Lina Sinha, the Indian American teacher who was arrested in charge of having sex with a 13-year-old student in 2007, began serving her sentence on July 23. Was it a case of pedophile or was she framed by a wayward lover?      

Remember Lina Sinha, an Indian origin teacher described by the western media as ‘Lusty Lina’ and ‘Bed-ucator’, who was arrested in the US on charge of having sex with her 13-year-old student way back in 2007? She has begun serving her sentence of up to seven years from yesterday.
The worst condemnation of Sinha came from Justice Carol Berkman of State Supreme Court in Manhattan during her 2007 sentencing. The judge reportedly remarked: "Miss Sinha is intelligent. She's well educated. She's well raised. She's hard- working. She's beautiful. And she's a predator who lived a lie."
If you did not know the whole story, here it is. It all began when a young officer of NYPD faced charges of assaulting Sinha more than one occasion in 2007. The 24-year-old police officer described in New York Supreme Court a 10-year relationship with his teacher that began when she gave him oral sex when he was a teen.  The teacher was none other than Sinha.
Tabloids wrote disgraceful headlines and raunchy stories. Paparazzi chased her for photographs. The case created quite a ripple, then. Sinha, whose family owns several schools in the New York City area, was then a headmistress of one of the family-run schools.
Sinha later told authorities at the time that he had concocted the story about having sex with her as a teen in retaliation after she filed the assault complaint against him.
But, according to prosecutors, Sinha had sex with the teen while he was a student. They said she filed her complaint against the young officer only when he tried to end their relationship in late 2004.
It is reported that a 2004 investigation revealed that from the beginning of June 1996 and continuing for several years, Sinha had sex with the student starting when he was 13 and in eighth grade.
In addition, the investigation discovered that for over a year, beginning in January 2001, she allegedly had sex with another male student, starting when that boy was 12 and in seventh grade.
Sinha was indicted on four counts of third-degree rape, three counts of second-degree rape, 14 counts of third-degree rape, five counts of second-degree sodomy, 36 counts of third-degree sodomy, two -counts of bribing a witness, tampering with physical evidence, endangering the welfare of a child, four counts of criminal impersonation in the second degree, tampering with a witness in the fourth degree, and 10 counts of falsely reporting an incident in the third degree.
Her trial began on February 2007 and in April 2007 she was convicted of sodomy, witness bribery counts, several counts of criminal impersonation and falsly reporting an incident.
According to a report in The New York Times, the relation began with a kiss. The victim’s team had lost an athletic competition and as captain, he was upset. Sinha consoled him with a kiss, he reported as saying. "I was very sad, and Lina kissed me on the mouth," he said.
The article quoted prosecutors as saying that from there it progressed to acts of oral sex she per- formed on him when he was 14, and intercourse - as a birthday present - when he turned 15.
When the boy went to college at 17, prosecutors reportedly said, he began to distance himself from Sinha, and she consoled herself with a "dalliance" with a second student. The second affair began with a hug on a ski trip, prosecutors said, and within a month, Sinha had sex with him. He was 12 and she 34, the prosecutors said.
In his testimony, the officer also claimed that Sinha had seduced him at a vulnerable time, when he was angry at his mother for divorcing his father.
When the prosecutor asked if he remembered Sinha telling him to keep their relationship a secret, he replied yes. "I recall the sub stance of the conversation being not to tell anybody. She can get into trouble," the New York Times quoted him as saying.
Sinha graduated in 1987 with an undergraduate degree from Columbia College. She earned two master's degrees from Columbia University and an advanced certificate from New York University. She went on to become a teacher, and spent her free time staying active and volunteering.
Sinha’s personal website described her as an avid runner, skier and tennis player who participated in the New York City half marathon.
She has also worked to choreograph Bollywood dances at the annual India Day parade held in New York City.
However, Sinha's defence claimed she was a "caring, competent, highly devoted teacher and principal" who tutored the student and began a sexual relationship with him only when he was over 17 and in college.
The defence did not dispute that Sinha had filed assault complaints against her former student but said she was motivated by jealousy, because he had started seeing another woman and had become physically abusive toward Sinha.
"She was hurt in a very deep and profound way," the defence attorney told the jury. "She was suffering the immeasurable anguish of a love affair gone bad." He also said that the second student, when initially interviewed by investigators, denied a sexual relationship but changed his story after his mother hired a lawyer to sue Sinha and the Montessori schools for damages.
"How is it he waited nine years before he told a single soul?" the defence reportedly asked in his closing argument, according to the New York Times. "There is no DNA. There is no independent evidence. There is no prompt complaint. There is no scientific proof."
The juries, however, were not convinced with the argument.

Sindhu, the new south star

The once dusty, lethargic city of Hyderabad has undergone a thorough image makeover over the years. The bustling megalopolis is today one of the most sought after destinations, thanks to the amazing growth of information technology and infrastructure in the ever-expanding city.
The historic city of Hyderabad has got an enviable place in the world map, not only because of its IT boom and business potential, but also for the world-class sports personas it has produced.
The latest one that is taking the sports world by storm is 16-year-old P V Sindhu, national junior numero uno in both singles and doubles badminton, who now has an enviable No 42 in world rankings.
In what looks like going a bit faster than Hyderabad’s own Saina Nehwal, Sindhu is not just an aspiring, title hungry wannabe. She has proved her mettle in a short span of time, making people sigh in disbelief at the adept moves of this young star.  
Today, even as she grows in stature, the equations have altered dramatically. Yes, Sindhu has created quite a buzz in badminton circles.
A new star who emerged from the very stables at Pullela Gopichand Academy, this 5`10``, and lankly- built Sindhu has been scripting a fairy-tale run that is justifiably drawing comparisons with predecessor Saina.
In a significant irony to Saina’s career, what was her worst year in recent times is heralding Sindhu in a new avatar. Her watershed year, by all accounts, Sindhu has blossomed into a full-fledged badminton player in 2011.
Even as Saina faltered at the final hurdle in the Super Series final, thousands of miles away Sindhu gave an abject demonstration of her prowess by vanquishing the 2009 champion to come up trumps at the Tata Open India International Challenge at the National Sports Club of India to popular applause. Along the way, of course, she conquered formidable foreign opponents.
The comparisons between the two are actually unwarranted. Their playing styles are in complete contrast to each other. Saina is more athletically built whereas Sindhu hardly looks like a badminton player, at a first glance.
If Saina is awesome at the net, the teenager from Hyderabad is fleet-footed and makes optimal use of her long legs. Rallies and cannonball-type smashes are something of an anathema for Sindhu, whose single-point approach to the game revolves around one theme-showering one winner after the other.
Seeing the `tremendous’ potential in her, two biggies have embraced her-Airport Authority of India (AAI) and Olympic Gold Quest (OGC), which are handling her participations and travels with gusto.
Having created ripples with her prodigious talents, Sindhu found herself in envious ensembles from the moment she announced her arrival at the Sushant Chipalkatti Memorial India Junior International Championship in Pune and followed it up with the All India Senior Ranking Tournament at Atul. This is in addition to the bronze at the 2009 Junior Asian Championship held at Colombo.
Her inspiration and mentor, Gopichand, opines that Sindhu has a bright future ahead. She has the wherewithal to come good in the big league and make a mark on the global landscape.
According to veteran observers in badminton circles, Sindhu, the `brightest investment for the future’, will `go places’ on the strength of innate and languid court coverage and the unorthodox, but `effective playing’ style.

Political leaders and their whimsical beliefs

Most political leaders in our country are just too good in hoodwinking people by giving false promises, they also think they can win over their hearts by seeking some divine intervention. Here are the superstitions of some of our ‘beloved’ leaders.
Former Andhra Pradesh Chief Minister late Dr Y S Rajasekhara Reddy was often mistaken for a Hindu, a Reddy. But in fact he was a Christian, a very conservative one for that. When he was the Chief Minister of over 6 crores population, he was unable to practice only one religion. He had been asked to perform some Hindu, Muslim, Sikh rituals during festival times. And he obliged too. But then, according to Christian faith, a true believer cannot follow other rituals. The remedy? Confession. No, he could take a vicar with him wherever he went, so he carried a Holy Bible in his car. As soon as he did something that was believed to be of a pagan's action, he touched the Bible kept in his car and prayed, say a source who was part of the late leader’s personal staff.
"The moment he stepped into the car, he used to touche the Bible. He was so passionate about the Bible that he always carried it with him wherever he went," said a source. Looks like his wife Vijayalakshmi follows the practice, as she was spotted carrying a book resembling the Bible when she was observing a sit-in protest at Sircilla amidst cacophony of a clash Monday.
Opposition leader in the Andhra Pradesh State Assembly believes in Vaastu. He firmly believes that the architectural position of his house and office can decide his success and failure. Last time, when the elections were nearing, he modified his Jubilee House residence in Hyderabad with some Chinese model architecture. This, even after his faith in Vaastu proving costly before the previous general elections. When consulted about his victory in the elections, a Vaastu expert close to him suggested that if the entry gate of the Secretariat was changed, he would win hands on in the elections. Ironically, the elections result proved otherwise. After nine years of rule, Telugu Desam Party bit the dust in the 2004 general elections.
Alipiri near Tirupati in Chittoor district in AP is also a place where he fears to move through. He had a hair-breadth escape from death in October 2003 when the car he was travelling was blasted by outlawed People's War Group. After several years when he passed through the same route for the first time after the blast, the tyre of his car blasted at the exact spot. A terrified Naidu reportedly cancelled his programme and came back home. Ever since he has stopped passing by the area. "An astrologer told Chandrababu Naidu that Alipiri is the place of death for him and he has decided not to travel through that route anymore," sources told this writer.
Matinee-idol turned political leader Chiranjeevi believes in numerals 4 and 8. He takes all important decisions and makes announcements on either 4 or 8 or double digit numbers that total the said numbers. He announced the launch of his party on 17 August and launched it on 28 of the same month.
In Karnataka, former Prime Minister and Janata Dal (Secular) leader H D Deve Gowda and his son and former Chief Minister of Karnataka H D Kumaraswamy visit a shrine called Ahobhila Mutt in Alagadda village of Kurnool district of neighbouring Andhra Pradesh every time there is a special occasion, be it in domestic front or politics. The duo comes three to four days in advance and offer pujas and conduct homas.
Tamil Nadu Chief Minister J Jayalalithaa is a staunch believer in tantric power. She performs tantric pujas every now and then, revealed sources. She unofficially visits a Bhadrakali Temple in Warangal in Andhra Pradesh and performs pujas, say insiders.
A shrine Vaideeswaran Koil near Villapuram railway station in Kumbhakonam district of Tamil Nadu is another place where political ambitions of aspiring leaders are granted bountifully. Leaders of yesteryears from former Prime Minister late P V Narasimha Rao to former Andhra Pradesh chief minister late NT Rama Rao used to frequent the temple, according to reports. Even today most of the small-time politicians frequent the temple to make it big in politics.
Former Kerala chief minister late K Karunakaran used to visit Guruvayur Lord Krishna temple in Trissur district of Kerala every 1st day of the Malayalam month. The shrewd leader never used to miss his visit to the famed temple during seventies, eighties and nineties.
Even political campaigns in Andhra Pradesh are based on superstitions. When Prime Minister Manmohan Singh won the trust motion in couple of years ago, Y S Rajasekhar Reddy's close aide and the then Andhra Pradesh Housing Minister, Botsa Satyanarayana commented that the UNPA-Left combine had failed to realise its single-point agenda of toppling the Manmohan Singh government only because the whole show was co-ordinated by 'unlucky' Naidu.
"Wherever Naidu sets foot, destruction and failure are bound to be there," he reportedly commented. He also said as long as Naidu was on his Rath Yatra in the districts, it did not rain. "When he took a break for three days and left for Delhi, it rained here," he was reported as saying.
Former Union minister and Telangana  Rashtra Samiti chief K Chandrasekhar Rao is known for his blind faith in performing yagas. He performs yagas not only at home but even in his party headquarters Telangana Bhavan in Hyderabad. He bring priests from Warangal to conduct the ceremonies.
Let your faith save you, you wily leaders!

Transgressor

Guilt, grumpiness and a niggling pain
Creep into my mind at the crack of dawn
The umbrage grows deep within
And I abhor myself so bad for being

Yesterday night when the sky was dark
When birds were snoozing in nests so calm
When angels were hovering in mortals’ dreams
When a moist wind was soothing the souls

I ceased to become a man with a heart
And turned into a wolf, spiteful and famished
I jumped on the lamb, hapless and virtuous
Battered her into a blood-spattered flesh

I trampled her mind, making it tremble
With fear of a demon that loomed so large
I drank her tears and gratified my greed
And pushed her into a pit so deep

What was I becoming, I never knew
It was all under the spell of a fiend
I shattered her dreams, sucked her blood
Drained her eyes of tears of all times

I don’t deserve mercy for sure
I don’t cry for clemency at all
All I need is your hatred so hard
Loath me world, for I am a brute

She was a seraph, too full of love
Who filled my heart with passion so great
And what did I do, ungrateful creep
Crushed her cheer for the days to come

Hatred I seek, odium I beg
‘Cause, I love her a lot from the depth of my heart  

Yet another storm in T cup?

Sicilla is in news again, apparently for the wrong reason. Activists of both YSR Congress Party (YSRCP) and Telangana Rashtra Samiti (TRS) are literally waging a pitched battle in the weavers’ hamlet while this author is keying in this story. 
The reason for this street fight is, to say, more or less, silly. All hell broke loose when YSRCP’s honorary president YS Vijayamma decided to take out a dharna in this Karimnagar village to champion the cause of hundreds of miserable weavers whose future is bleak in this hunger-ridden village.
The party with a pink flag which is supposed to fight for the formation of separate Telangana lost its cool as this Rayalaseema leader, whose son is languishing behind the bars of Chanchalguda prison for reasons best known to him, decided to make her parties presence felt in the hotbed of Telangana.  Since morning, the police have been trying to ease the tension, in their own way, by thrashing the trouble-mongers black and blue.
The scene, for people with a little bit of common sense, is sure disgusting. Sorry if I sounded harsh. I have all reasons to support the Telangana cause, but then, when someone is really trying to take advantage of the sentiments of over four crores of people, I can just feel pity for the millions of exploited souls in Telangana.
These political hooliganism and tomfoolery reminds me of the days when people were committing suicide en masse. It was in June 2008 I went to Sircilla to report the dance of death in this sleepy weavers settlement for Covert magazine.
It is a place where hunger and poverty weave clothes of death. More than 320 suicides in about four years when I visited the village. I well remember when other parts of Telangana were in a festival mood, 17 suicides in just 12 days and counting. It is Sircilla, a weavers' hamlet in Karimnagar district of Andhra Pradesh where poverty-stricken weavers end their lives as easily as tossing a coin.
The sound of power-looms, gloomy faces, scrawny figures and wailing families welcome one to this weavers' village. People never looked at strangers as they spotted several of them those days with the village turning to be the synonym of suicides.
Perennial misery surrounds this village where 1,25,000 weavers work 12 hours a day for a meager wage of Rs 70 to Rs 80 in about 40,000 power looms scattered around. One has to work standing for 12 hours non-stop in dingy looms just to make both ends' meet. Growing debts and consumption of adulterated toddy and country liquor mar their health both mentally and physically, leaving them with no choice except ending their lives on a piece of rope.
"We get Rs 10 per a metre of cloths. If there is power failure, we will not able to weave enough length to earn at least Rs 70 a day. We suffer from lung and heart diseases due to 12 hours of work, all the while standing. Most of us are addicted to cheap liquor that is available aplenty. We are unable to take care of our families and our debts keep growing. See, this is festival season and I have no money to buy new clothes and other things. What else one can do other than getting rid of this wretched life? At least our families will get some ex-gratia from the government," said Jagan, a young weaver.
Most of the men work in power looms whereas their women roll beedies for a livelihood. Even the women get hardly Rs 30-40 a day. Most of their children have stopped going to schools to assist their mothers in beedi rolling.
"We get Rs 60 for 1,000 beedies. At least three to four of our family members should work together the whole day to roll 1000 beedies. I don't think I can send my daughter Priya for higher studies. Even now she assists me in rolling beedies," said Mavidala Anuradha, whose husband Ravichander is a weaver.
"My daughter Ramya stopped going to school and now she helps me rolling beedies. She knows stitching but what is the use when I can't afford to buy a sewing machine for her?" asked Kodam Suvarna, another beedi worker.
"We don't have any organisation. We are not looking for any temporary financial aid. If the government can provide our children jobs, that's sufficient. At least they will look after themselves. Ever since Y S Rajasekhar Reddy came to power some years ago, our bad days started. Several hundreds of them killed themselves as they were unable to make a living and pay back their debts," said Anuradha, low-spirited and gloomy.
"Politicians come very often, but they come for votes. They make a lot of promises but forget them once they get power. We want to vote for someone who can solve our problems completely," said Suvarna.
"Thousands of weavers are suffering from various ailments due to their 12-hour long work by standing. They take to cheap liquor to forget their pains and get addicted to them, further deteriorating their health. They borrow money from money-lenders and unable to repay. Finally they take the extreme step, thinking of the ex-gratia their families may get after their deaths," said Ravinder a health assistant who completed a survey on health conditions of the villagers.
"Giving ex-gratia is kind of encouragement for these hapless lots to commit suicide. Most of them ended lives keeping the government ex-gratia in mind. Instead of giving financial assistance, the government should form a corporation where the weavers should be employed for a monthly salary. The government should also purchase the products so that there will be work always," said Sandeep Kumar, a social activist.
Heartrending scenes of wailing families and working children are witnessed in the village which is engulfed by a pall of gloom. Still sounds of looms reverberate the village round the clock with having two shifts for weavers, each 12 hours a day.
Every political party is now thronging the village of death with a lot of promises. The Congress did it, the BJP did it, the Communists and the TDP followed suit and so did Chiranjeevi who had launched his own party then.
But regardless of all the hues and cries, the dance of death due to poverty and illness and suicides by hapless weavers continued unabated in the star-crossed village of perennially backward Telangana region.