San Francisco, heaven on earth

San Francisco is small, quaint, lovable, unusual, friendly, happy, hilly, sunny (well, I missed the famous fog!).


I lost myself in the trams and cable cars, the cruise around the Alcratraz and Capt Nemo's introduction to the prisoners, the huge Petco petshop, the ride up and down the Golden Gate bridge, the undersea aquarium where I stroked a leopard shark behind his dorsal fin and similarly touched a couple of bat rays, and the wharf, the wharf, the wharf, where the seals barked and the gulls cried, and the clam chowder said to Oliver's granddaughter, "of course you can have some more".


I found myself in the Muir Woods, where the tallest and oldest living creatures in the world (the magnificient 2000 year old redwoood sequioas) wrap you up in a woody leafy herbal scent as the words of David Wagoner's "Lost" bring you back up to earth while the markets plummet further.


Lost!
Stand still.
The trees ahead and bushes beside you
Are not lost.
Wherever you are is called Here,
And you must treat it as a powerful stranger,
Must ask permission to know it and be known.
The forest breathes.
Listen. It answers,
I have made this place around you.
If you leave it, you may come back again, saying Here.
No two trees are the same to Raven.
No two branches are the same to Wren.
If what a tree or a bush does is lost on you,
You are surely lost.
Stand still. The forest knows
Where you are. You must let it find you.

The purpose of my trip was professional. Hosting a client to meet the Chairman/CEO of IPG for breakfast, followed by a meeting and dinner with 25 agency heads from around the world, was a privilege in itself. However, the outcome of the trip is thankfully personal. I had been talking to the lady in the mirror for the past few months, telling her that I was not happy with the distance growing between her, and the image peeping out of the business pages much too often. She told me that I was being sent to San Francisco for a reason......

Within thirty minutes of landing at the airport, I found myself standing before the relics of St Francis of Assisi, the patron saint of animals, after whom the city was named in 1857 - a year after Italian and Spanish settlers in search of gold set up the chapel there, now the National Shrine on Columbus Ave.

A solemn simple church, not quite as beautiful or imposing as the 12th century basilica in Assisi, but enough to give me some much needed moments of peace and enlightenment. For those who don't know, St Francis of Assisi was a rich merchant's son who gave up a life of wealth and fun to live au naturel in the forests. Besides founding the Franciscan order, he was well known for his ability to communicate with animals and his love for all God's creations. On the left is a mural of the saint with the Gubbio wolf, whom he convinced to give up his ferocious ways and live in peace among the villagers of Assisi. Our Torda hospital was founded on October 4, his feast day, and is dedicated to him. I bought a parchment of his famed Canticle of the Creatures, where he tells the Sun, moon, water, fire, earth how much he appreciates them.

His sermon to the birds is depicted in the mural on the right.
My little sisters, the birds, much indebted are you unto God, your creator, and always in every place you ought to praise him, that he has given you liberty to fly about everywhere, and has also given you double and triple raiment; moreover he preserved your seed in the ark of Noah, that your race might not perish out of the world; still more are you beholden to him for the element of the air which he has appointed for you; beyond all this, you sow not, neither do you reap; and God feeds you, and gives you the streams and fountains for your drink; the mountains and valleys for your refuge and the high trees whereon to make your nests; and because you know not how to spin or sow, God clothes you, you and your children; wherefore your creator loves you much, seeing that he has bestowed on you so many benefits; and therefore, my little sisters, beware of the sin of ingratitude, and study always to give praises unto God.

Let me now leave you with his famous prayer sung by Sinead O'Connor in this version.

A morning to remember

Driving past the Bandra Talab this morning, I encountered a sight that stirred my soul as much as it chilled my stomach. A bespectacled young gentleman, dressed in a checked blue shirt and navy slacks was striding along the footpath, the blue water and green palms offering a picturesque backdrop to his confident yuppie stride. He looked like any young executive on his way to work, minus a briefcase.

His left arm was severed a few inches above the wrist.

As he swung his arms unaffectedly back and forth, a crisp white bandage at the end of the left stump (just above where a hand should have been) stood out in stark contrast to the rest of his dark blue draped persona. I looked down at my own two hands. This Sunday was celebrated as thanksgiving Sunday, and the sermon at mass was about counting one's blessings instead of sheep, as a good cure for insomnia. I do not suffer from insomnia, and I have hands that can write, play, chop, stir, massage, sew, and sometimes heal. Thank you God.

Later this morning, I went over to the Aaren Initiative office in Worli to participate in the traditional Dussera puja and blessing of all the equipment. An office full of bright young people, dressed in traditional dark blue, shared in the chanting and clapping while the arti was performed in a room filled with the sweet scent of camphor and incense, and warmed with the gentle glow of the burning oil. As I silently offered up prayers of my own for this resilient team who have displayed so much maturity and strength of character during turbulent times, just like the Pandava princes, I realised that despite the stock market crashing and the rupee getting thrashed, I really do have much to thank God for.

Lunch was with an old friend and a plate full of tisrios. We talked about his Mudhol hounds. After which I bought a skirt, a pair of trousers, a t-shirt and a blouse at Marks and Spencer. JLT.

I came back to office and sanctioned a midterm increment for 73 people, something that's never been done in the Lintas group for the past ten years at least. When you are grateful, you should show it. And share it.

Happy Dussera, readers, here's wishing you reclaim your kingdom as joyously as I did mine.

Images

It's been a month since I last posted, a hectic month with a lot of travel thrown in, but all within India. With some free time today, but not much by way of inspiration, perhaps a brief description of some of the images I can resurrect in my mind from events in the past thirty days may interest you.

1. A young labrador walking around my CRV at the Four Seasons, sniffing out for bombs on a drizzly day. What was wrong with the long handled mirror all these hotels normally shove under the boot, that they needed to replace them with this voiceless dog?

2. A six foot deep half acre wide crater where a building used to be - the building where an old Jain lady fed hundreds of pigeons and crows every morning on her terrace. Now we have to do that.

3. My dad's face when I told him that I was required to spend the night on a bench outside the ICU at Holy Family Hospital after his angioplasty, by the uncommonly rude staff. He had wanted to go home soon after it was done and grumbled all thru his short stay.

4. Bessy's surly expression after taking away my slippers and protectively guarding them so that Kasey can't chew them to bits with her newly grown molars.

5. Shashi's tight purple striped shirt at the last BARC meeting, and his expression when we teased him about it. It suited him though.

6. Charles turning a bright pink with embarrassment when his cellphone rang out the Pink Panther theme in full volume at the Board meeting. And turning pinker and pinker as we all figured out his secret alter ego.

7. The long line of red painted intercity coaches at the new Bengaluru airport.

8. The shiny russet jacquard tablecloth that was laid out for us at the lunch hosted by Aroon Purie at the magazine congress. The food and wine and conversation flowed over this incongruity like clear ocean water over a bed of slimy seaweed.

9. Hormusji's pistachio green 1945 Ford something with leather seats and more leg room than Kingfisher First.

10. Large wedges of warm brown walnut cake from City Cafe, courtesy Mahesh Bhojne's birthday, with walnut halves on the top.

And yes, there's a sound that I remember too - that of a reassuring deep long distance voice just when I needed it most.

Catching 'em young

Recently two of my friends send me links to blogs started by their kids, with a request to 'encourage' them. So guys and girls, please do go here (happydogdayz.blogspot.com) to meet nine year old Aalia who loves dogs but not cats, and is such a compassionate little girl! She had the dubious honour of lighting the lamp at the inauguration of our hospital in 2002 when she was only three.

After that, go here (callmesuryan.blogspot.com) to meet seven year old Suryan who seems to have a motley of friends and likes snakes and betting and seeing that no one cheats. Reflecting on these two sweet blogs and the other adult ones I read regularly, here are some stray thoughts :

1. The cut and dried matter of fact quality of a child's writing - so refreshingly honest. Why do we lose that quality when we grow up?

2. I daresay today's kids are more tech savvy but less literary than us ancients were. I pulled out some old poems and "letters to the editor" written by my eight year old brother during the 1964 Indo-Pak war when we had to take shelter in Porbandar (yes the place where Gandhiji was born), and found the ideas and thoughts, formation of sentences, grammar, spellings etc, quite superior. I'd love to reproduce some of those here after he approves of it!

3. I wish Amanda would start up her own blog, but she loves to draw and paint, and hates the computer!

4. I like dogs and snakes too, but am too shy to say grrrr to a cat or drrrr to a viper.......oh to be a child again:-)

So long and thanks for all the fish

No I am not closing down this blog. Just posting a video that Youtube recommended I should watch when I logged in there today. Coincidentally, this blog got its name originally from the associations with the Hitchhiker series, and as I paste in the URL, it brings back fond and persistent memories of a special time in my life that was innocent, happy and a great deal of fun. Just like the dolphins playing around in this film and having a good laugh at silly humankind.

Impact and Hatari

Another lazy post.
First there's some gyan from the fourth anniversary special issue of Impact, published today.


And then, there is this baby elephant rescue that someone I don't even know sent to me on youtube. I bet you will rewind and play it over several times, each time wanting to reach your own hands into the water to help the mother and aunt elephants fish the little one out of the watering hole.

Blogging about blogging

This is a lazy post. Am simply reproducing some stuff from the latest issue of Campaign India in which Suman Srivastava and I have given gyan on blogging. Read and digest. And comment if you dare.....

Living water

Last week I went to Cannes, for the first time ever in my overlong career, which would come as a surprise to many. It was most impressive, the event of events. Sponsor money drooling out of every pore in every orange carpet and tourquoise wall. Creativity shouting out from rooftops, pavements and beachfronts. Chic presenters. Happy recipients. Tired judges. Eager networkers.

I moved on to Lourdes within two days of experiencing Cannes, to fulfil an old vow. It's a picturesque village at the foothills of the snow peaked Pyrenees, where a young girl called Bernadette encountered the mother of Christ in a series of 15 apparitions between February and July, 150 years ago. In one of those apparitions, Our Lady asked her to drink from the dirt and grass on the ground beneath her feet, which she did, and a spring magically appeared from which millions of pilgrims now drink and bathe in and carry bottles of water back home with them (as I did), known as it is for its miraculous healing properties.

This is a picture of the Church of Our Lady of Lourdes taken at the entrance to the Sanctuaries of St Bernadette - as you can tell I had good sunny weather!


And this is a picture of the Grotto. Surprisingly, the statue of Our Lady is small and made in the exact size and place where she appeared, dressed in white and blue with roses on her feet, unlike the oversized statues in all the usual grottos we see.


I did take a dip in one of the baths, after a four hour wait, in which all the decades of all the mysteries of the Rosary were recited in five different languages, by the end of which I didn't really want to hear another Ave Maria.

Truth be told, I would go back to the 12 th century shrine of St Francis of Assisi in Italy, the patron saint of animals, again and again and again. Lourdes, where a candle costs 2 euros and a mass costs 18 euros, has become a place for the tourists and the rich pilgrims. Perhaps I should sponsor some needy person to go there, because I'm not sure I myself would go there again.

This one's for M and P....

Last Friday, I had lunch with two adorable little people I met through this blog. Untainted by the passage of time, they are about to embark on a journey of love and discovery to the land where Sita met Ravana, and was subsequently rescued by the monkey God.

This one is for them - as a reminder that magic often happens when the classes meet the masses. U2's version of Hallelujah is like fine red wine to the grapes of Leonard Cohen's lyrics, but it took a middle-of-the-road midling-talented dreadlocked Jason Castro to deliver a bit of its rich bouquet to the 32 million people who watched the finals of American Idol last week.

Dear M and P, may the Lord of Song be by your side always.....

Tree gazing in China

Everyone warned me about China - 'they eat anything that moves', 'they won't understand a word you say and vice versa', 'they don't care about human or animal rights', 'they are big cheats, check everything you buy, and bargain down by 10 times the quote'.

All of it was true and all of it was false. I loved China, Chinese people, Chinese food, and most of all, Chinese flora. From the breathtaking beautiful peach blossoms and magnolia to the four hundred year old cypress and pine trees in the Forbidden City, my lasting unforgettable impression of China won't be that of the glass and concrete jungles in Shanghai or of the expanse of Beijing, but rather of these images below:


Two ancient cypress trees entwined into one - celebrating the union of everlasting love.

A sheep dog herding his family in a pine forest within the suburbs of Beijing....a strange mixture of rural living in urban confines.


Patchi line up against a backdrop of forests grown by man around the artificial Kuoming lake built three hundred years ago in the Q'ing dynasty's Summer Palace.

Magnolia (?) in our apartment building foyer.


Pine and peach in the Forbidden City, where someone told us there were "no trees".


Ancient leafless trees in the rock garden in the Forbidden City.


At last......a bird's nest, yes they do live here, they haven't all been culled off.


And the most beautiful one among them all ....a cypress in the gardens around the excavated Ming tombs. A place to leave one's soul behind.

Someday soon, San Francisco.........my patron saint must surely be waiting there for me.

Things that make this dolphin smile.....

This true story I read in today's Mumbai Mirror......renews my faith and implicit belief in the generosity of nature.

Wellington: A dolphin swam up to two distressed whales that appeared headed for death in a beach stranding in New Zealand and guided them to safety, witnesses said on Wednesday.

The actions of the bottlenose dolphin — named Moko by residents who said it spends much of its time swimming playfully with humans at the beach — amazed would-be rescuers and an expert who said they were evidence of the species’ friendly nature.

The two pygmy sperm whales, a mother and her calf, were found stranded on Mahia Beach, northeast Wellington, on Monday morning, said Conservation Department worker Malcolm Smith. Rescuers worked for more than one hour to get the whales back into the water, only to see them strand themselves four times on a sandbar slightly out to sea. It looked likely the whales would have to be euthanised to prevent them suffering a prolonged death, Smith said.

Then along came Moko, who approached the whales and led them 200 meters along the beach and through a channel out to the open sea.

“Moko just came flying through the water and pushed in between us and the whales,” Juanita Symes, another rescuer, told The Associated Press. “She got them to head toward the hill, where the channel is. It was an amazing experience. The best day of my life.”

Friends and family

I spent an interesting weekend at home in Torda, warding off langur subadults who made free with the trees and leaves in my balcony. I tried unsuccessfully to get some pictures of them but the dogs and cats kept hounding them from branch to branch so it became quite impossible to get them still even for ten seconds. I have therefore made good with some of these.

This is PD, blind as a bat after maggots ate away his eyes more than once. He now gets around with the help of his nose and young Beauty, his personal guide dog.


Shadow was with us for four months with a large gaping maggot wound on his head. After full healing we sent him home to Moira, a week later he was back. We sent him home again, he left his owners and found his way back one more time. Last week, once again for the third time. Persistent chap. Here he is lurking away from my camera in my backyard, and later giving Stick a lecture in geography.





Kim was left with us by his owners at the ripe old age of twelve. Two years on, here is sunning himself at the top of the hill on a chilly Friday morning.



Boo has a sad story behind him. After treating him for repeated skin infection, his owners abandoned him at Betim after he was discharged. For three days he wandered around hungry and chased by the street dogs, till a lady spotted him and called us. We took him back, and have refused to let his owner have him again. Five months later he is fully cured and being adopted soon.



And finally this is Rita, daschund cocker spaniel cross who was brought in for sterilisation and discovered to have jaundice. She is less than a year old, fully recovered, had all her shots and is up for adoption. A real real darling, very tiny and playful. If any of you are interested please call us at +91 832 2416180, and speak to Dr Dinella (in the picture) or Dr Deby.

Ash Wednesday

Today is Ash Wednesday. We had piping hot pancakes for breakfast yesterday, as is traditionally done on the feast of the Mardi Gras. For years as a child, Ash Wednesday meant queuing up to be anointed with ash on the forehead by a priest who recited, "Dust thou art, and unto dust thou shalt return". Then begun the 40 days of Lent, fast, abstinence and reflection.

I have long since stopped going to church on Ash Wednesday for the ritual annointment. On a working week day with all the travel I do, it just stopped working out. However, for the past decade, I have tried to use the season of Lent to reflect, repent, and hopefully recover from past wrongdoings.

One is supposed to abstain from the pleasures of the flesh - eating meat, drinking alcohol, etc - during these forty days. Since I don't do either anyway, my symbolic sacrifice is to give up on anything I really love and enjoy doing, whatever that might be that year. This year the sacrifice is going to be particularly hard on me....but what the hell, it could never ever match up to a crucifixion, so why not?

Let me leave you with this poem called Ash Wednesday, written by T S Eliot in 1927, the year my father was born. It's a long read, but if you have 5 minutes to spare, try it out. The words are haunting, some of them will stay with you forever.

Right and wrong

Last week we innocently released the 2008 Lintas Media Guide, in a pretty little pen drive in a pretty little case - all red and gold and christmasy.


While many media featured its contents simply and rather boringly, DNA took the opinions of several of our competitors and did this proactive story below, besides the usual report.



We responded with this in today's DNA.


I understand from a reliable resource that Vikram wants to do a rejoinder. I am not sure why. But it will be a good one to read. Bottom line, TAM now captures only part of all that is spent in relation to tv, and it's high time we looked for ways to measure the rest of the spend too. Ah, maybe I should start sharpening my pencils.....

Busy Bee

This is the 2008 me.

Cute
Fat
Loads of attitude
Busy busy

(Multiple choice answers allowed here, but only one answer is the right one, the rest are false.)

I didn't get to write that last post, and after Ravi Kiran's stunningly written wake-up call, I don't even want to. A delayed Mumbai bound flight gave us five hours together in Delhi last week - with much much catching up. One more unusual gift to add to my 2007 list.

Back to my hive now.

Last but one

As I try to write up my annual year ender column for indiantelevision.com, I am a bit stumped. What was so special about this year that Sonali Krishnan and her tribe have not already done to death? New channels, new stations, new magazines, new movies...the same old blah blah.

Maybe I should write about all the unusual gifts I received instead. Like the imagine pad Bamboo (pen tablet) from NDTV Imagine "capture an idea before it runs away". The wooden toys fridge magnets from Dilli Haat. The DVD of "an inconvenient truth" sent to me twelve months before it became a fad, and four months before it won an Oscar. The bucket of colostrum enriched puppy formula from Australia. The 3D holographic sculpture of the Laughing Buddha sent by Peter whose grin welcomes me home every Mumbai evening. The in-room golf set from Sony. Mary's blue fleece and Marie's brown cape to warm me up in a cold Chicago. A three bedroom apartment in a plush Khar lane. Two three-wheeler animal ambulances. A graphic designer's first attempt with oils on canvas featuring three gauti pups lounging inside a splash of deep ocean blue. The magical heat sensitive colour changing coffee mug from Bindaas. Our first pineapple.

This is not my last post this year. I still have to write that year ender, and publish that here before it goes up on their site. Meanwhile, let me leave you with this ad for HP, featuring my most favorite TV star, without his face - but with a sqeaky screechy world's most recognisable voice like that, who needs a face?

Views from windows

December 5th, Chicago. There were snow showers all night long. In the morning, I woke up to this sight - my first encounter with fresh snow on the streets, made even more beautiful by a cheerful smiling sun and glistening pine trees.



December 15th, Dandeli. A river flowed right in front of our tents, set in a jungle lodge in the teak and bamboo forests of South West India. I woke up to a darkish twilight, the clear waters barely visible through the overhanging branches.



Black and white views that spoke volumes and still do. I have learnt much in 2007. Thank you, nature.

Lost!

My template, and all my XML files. While our systems department attempts to recover the lot, I've used a temporary template, only because I was eager to post this incredibly sweet video I just received, and wouldn't be able to do that for the next four days - yes travelling again.

This describes the reunion between a lady and a lion she rescued and nursed back to health. She placed him in a zoo and when she visited him, he gave her what is known as the 'hug of the millennium'. Watch it to know what a real real hug is :-)

Old Turkey Buzzard

Eyes of all kinds fascinate me. I tend to judge a person by his/her eyes and I connect with animals most through their eyes. Birds' eyes specially are riveting, disproportionately large and heavy lidded when blinking. The opening shots in Mackenna's Gold featuring Old Turkey Buzzard's eyes, do you remember them? If not, here is a reminder.



I was a very little girl when my brother took me to see the movie and for weeks after that we sang about gold and gold, men will do anything for gold. As I grew older, the bird itself and what he stood for became more understandable. He inspired the opening frames of our first GSPCA film, posted here. Today, I am humming these lines and find the truth in them uncanny.

Old Buzzard knows that he can wait
For every mother's son has got a date
A date with fate, with fate.......

Note in my diary - 2008, got to visit the Grand Canyon.

Thanksgiving

Today, Americans all over the world celebrate their National Thanksgiving Day. Here is the text of their President's sealed proclamation for the day :

Thanksgiving Day, 2007
A Proclamation by the President of the United States of America

Americans are a grateful people, ever mindful of the many ways we have been blessed. On Thanksgiving Day, we lift our hearts in gratitude for the freedoms we enjoy, the people we love, and the gifts of our prosperous land.

Our country was founded by men and women who realized their dependence on God and were humbled by His providence and grace. The early explorers and settlers who arrived in this land gave thanks for God's protection and for the extraordinary natural abundance they found. Since the first National Day of Thanksgiving was proclaimed by President George Washington, Americans have come together to offer thanks for our many blessings. We recall the great privilege it is to live in a land where freedom is the right of every person and where all can pursue their dreams. We express our deep appreciation for the sacrifices of the honorable men and women in uniform who defend liberty. As they work to advance the cause of freedom, our Nation keeps these brave individuals and their families in our thoughts, and we pray for their safe return.

While Thanksgiving is a time to gather in a spirit of gratitude with family, friends, and neighbors, it is also an opportunity to serve others and to share our blessings with those in need. By answering the universal call to love a neighbor as we want to be loved ourselves, we make our Nation a more hopeful and caring place.

This Thanksgiving, may we reflect upon the past year with gratefulness and look toward the future with hope. Let us give thanks for all we have been given and ask God to continue to bless our families and our Nation.

NOW, THEREFORE, I, GEORGE W. BUSH, President of the United States of America, by virtue of the authority vested in me by the Constitution and laws of the United States, do hereby proclaim Thursday, November 22, 2007, as a National Day of Thanksgiving. I encourage all Americans to gather together in their homes and places of worship with family, friends, and loved ones to reinforce the ties that bind us and give thanks for the freedoms and many blessings we enjoy.

IN WITNESS WHEREOF, I have hereunto set my hand this fifteenth day of November, in the year of our Lord two thousand seven, and of the Independence of the United States of America the two hundred and thirty-second.

GEORGE W. BUSH

The proclamation thanks God for freedoms, friends and prosperity. If India had a thanksgiving day, what would we be thankful for? Poverty, corruption, inequality? Don't mock me for thinking this.

Because as I look back on my own life, I find more often than not that I am grateful for adversity rather than fortune. Fortune comes and goes, and brings indulgence and corruption in its wake. Adversity however teaches one to be strong, composed and resourceful, and helps one discover true friends. One always comes out better after adversity. Not so after fortune.

America should learn to be thankful for the lessons learnt from 9/11 and Katrina, just as much as it rejoices in its prosperity - otherwise, at a totally other yet fully related level, its dollar will continue to depreciate...

Meanwhile, 92% of American households will eat turkey tonight. If you want to know what happens to the birds that get the presidential pardon or are otherwise rescued and adopted, read this front page story in the New York Times today - "In some households, every day is turkey day"