The New World...back by popular demand....

Terrence Mallick’s vision of the New World brought us the soft and painful story of a romance between a Red Indian Chieftain’s daughter and an Irish Sea captain – dappled light on green and blue evergreen forests of the wild and free unknowns of untamed America. Then came the battles – rough European settlers against barbaric tattooed natives. The world that was, in which love floated free in the air to be breathed in and out – was turned into a chained, bleeding, panting animal, stripped of all human emotion – fighting for survival with teeth clenched and anger boiling through its veins. It failed. A great continent was conquered. And with it man lost one of the last remaining vestiges of wilderness – forever.

Cut to 1947. Great new things were happening all over the world. The crazy eccentric billionaire Howard Hughes staked all his millions and his reputation on the first flight of the first jumbo jet across the American skies – and beyond. Edwin Land discovered the compact camera with in-built film system. Xerox was invented. Nations were breaking free from the clutches of their colonial masters. Africa, Asia, South America were waking up from centuries of slavery.
It is in these turbulent years that in our tiny corner of the world three new nations were pieced out of a huge British colony. Thousands died – hundreds were left homeless. It was as if the earth was retching blood along the division lines – or so I have read.


From the ashes of a great nation an anaemic seedling struggled to survive. The pace was painstakingly slow. While the rest of the world zoomed past us, we kept on tugging and pushing the relic of a bygone majesty down the road to 10% GDP.
Decades passed – emergencies, religious riots, Naxal andolan – internal aggression at every nook and corner – Kashmir, North-East, Bengal, Orissa, Bihar, Tamil Nadu – etc, etc, etc…our GDP climbed like a snail on a redwood tree. Then was born the first generation of the 90’s. A generation who had not seen the Gulf war, the Babri Masjid, the Sikh riots, the Bombay blasts – they had neither seen C. V. Raman receiving the Nobel Prize, the Smiling Buddha in the Pokhran sands, India’s World Cup win or Rakesh Sharma’s flight to the outer orbit.


A whole new generation for whom the entire history of their nation was stored in a few school text-books to be mugged and retched out onto the term paper. A generation blamed of misguided principles and blind aping of western trends. A generation for whom the sound of MTV was more familiar than the sound of early morning ragas on AIR. A bunch of doping, fagging, English-swear mouthing brown sahibs for whom Nirvana was holier than Mahatma.
The century passed. We entered a new one with guns of Kargil still echoing off the barren hills of Karakorum. The Godhra riots happened. We saw pregnant women being raped and fetuses being murdered – some things we thought were impossible. But we were only entering the new century. USA attacked Afghanistan. Peter Jackson released Lord of the Rings – the Fellowship of the Ring. Two crazy suicide bombers rammed against the highest towers in New York landscape – and the most familiar ones thanks to “Friends”. Peter Jackson released Lord of the rings – the Two Towers.USA attacked Iraq – one dictator against another – for a “cleaning-up” job flimsier than World War II – over non-existent Weapons of Mass Destruction. We saw one of the most ancient cities on earth, housing one of the greatest collections of art, culture, literature, religion and ancient science being reduced to a mass of rubbles. Tanks rolled down the carved streets of Babylon where even Alexander had chosen to stride on flowers. A city which gave us the great adventures of Sindbad, the terrific stories of Arabian Nights and the witticisms of Mullah Nasseeruddin – no longer existed. Its spirit crushed under the falling walls of Baghdad museum. Our generation stood a dumb witness and stayed glued to our computer screens reading the blogs of US marines. Rakesh Omprakash Mehra released Rang De Basanti. Seven deadly blasts left the spinal cord of Mumbai in tatters.


There was blood everywhere. The New World was dawning and we saw the planet we were inheriting turn into a desolate landmass.
We were – and still are – all confused. We wonder – where does such reckless hatred come from? Is it born from the heart of man? Is it born from the hearts beating within us? Is it even possible? This is the 21st century for God’s sake. We are not Hitlers or Chengises. Nor Alexander or Ashok. We are supposed to be hip and cool. Work hard, party harder.
Why do we have to break and burn cars from Birmingham to Paris? Why do we have to fight against our own government to get jobs – in Delhi, Paris, China and Chile? Why are our boyfriends dying desolate deaths in faraway deserts? Why do our girlfriends get sold off to nameless addresses? Why are our brothers being murdered by city cops in the London tubes in broad daylight? Why can’t our sisters in Kabul wear jeans for fear of life and honor? Why do our friends die in bomb-blasts on the way home from late practicals? Whats the purpose of all this? Whats the great design that we fail to see?
This is the New World – this is the world we have inherited from our elders. We have to figure it out – ‘cause if we don’t, no-one will. Before it is too late…or is it too late already?

Monday, July 31, 2006