Whatever happened to everyone?

Last two weekends I read two books by Prof Galal Amin of American University in Cairo with title: Whatever happened to Egyptians? The books illustrate very vividly how the Egyptian society has changed in the last 50 + years. Before the revolution in 1952, Egypt was described as a half percent society. It means only half percent landed aristocrats lived a comfortable life while the rest of the population lived in poverty and misery. The revolution helped to widen the circle of the privileged. The liberal economic policies and oil boom of the 1970s further expanded the circle of people with means. Many labourers could now go to the Gulf, save money and build palatial summer houses that their parents could have never dreamt of. The author very nicely describes how the summer resort of Alexandria has been horizontally expanding with the new wealth.

With new economics, people have acquired new tastes. Weddings and birthday parties are celebrated in hotels. There is more emphasis on video shooting than retaining memories. Pictures in people's columns of newspapers matter more than children's frolick at these events. Television is dominated by soap operas on family feuds and relationships. Music and food represent mix of local with the Western. Since much of the new prosperity is a result of globalisation (imports, exports, work abroad, tourism revenue, foreign direct investment, stock markets), people's culture is also getting globalised.

However, while globalisation has enabled a large number of people to join the circle of prosperity, it leaves out a larger number of people who do not have skills to negotiate with the world economy. They are neglected. Media don't carry their stories unless there are major catastrophies. For them, terms of trade reverse, with prices going up and the state offering concessions to the privileged. These people then take resort to crime and extremism.

Isn't this description of changing Egypt similar to changes taking place in several societies in the world? Aren't shopping malls, soap operas, fast food, five star events order of the day for the privileged in almost every big city in the world? Aren't slums, gangs, mercenaries spreading all over the world?

Prof Galal Amin has described evolution of the Egyptian society. I think he is talking about all of us.

Sunset in the north

I always believed that the sun set in the west. Then one day, I suddenly noticed that the sun was setting in the north-west. This evening, too, it set in that space that is neither west, nor north, but closer to the north than the west.

Since I first noticed the sun setting in the north-west, I made an effort to observe the precise location of the sunset throghout the year. I realised that it actually changes from the west to the north over a period of six months and then again gradully from the north-west to the west over the next six months. Yet I had somehow believed that the sun only set in the west.

We often make a certain hypothesis about many truths in life. The real truth is often different from what we believe in. Sometimes the truth is not clearly defined. It shifts like the sunset from my window.

Sound of music

After a long time, I listened to Pachakuti, Andean melodies (meaning 'return of time'.). A decade ago, a group of Bolivian singers and musicians used to entertain passers by at the corner of Ahlens departmental store and the T Centralen in Stockholm. Every time I passed by, I would recognise the tunes from a distance and spend a few minutes listening to a couple of numbers. When I left Stockholm, I made a point to visit the group with their native attire and instruments to purchase the CD. As I play it now, it brings back the memories of snow, mist and Ahlens.

I have Argentine, Arab, Norwegian, Swedish, South African, Sri Lankan, Nepalese, Chinese, Turkish, Italian, and many other kinds of music. But my all-time favourite is Renee and Renato (Save your love), Bonny M (Holiy Holidays) and Koli songs, besides the Andean tunes.

I heard Renee and Renato in Venice at the end of a day in the paradise, the only birthday I remember celebrating in my life. It began with a chance encouter with a Peurto Rican beauty and an American professor, another chance encounter with my friends from Oxford, Peter and Gill, who had decided to go steady from that very day, and a closing chance encounter with a vivacious Swiss tourist who wanted me to drink the strongest coffee in the world, which would make it impossible for me to sleep. It was a day of aromatic pizzas in little lanes outside Venice, rides on vaparettoes, and tearful farewales at the Venice railway station. When I curled up in the bed that night (alone despite all chance encounters and strong coffee) and switched on the TV, Renee and Renato was playing.

Several numbers of Bonny M bring back the memories of magical moments in the Pyrenees mountains, on the border of Spain and France. It was a tiny village in Valley d'Aran where the mayor had a gift shop and the mayor's wife was asking every visiting man to dance with her very pretty daughter at the local discotheque. I had my turn. As she did not know English and I did not know Spanish, the dance movements to the tune of Bonny M numbers did the speaking.

And, of course, Koli songs, go further behind, to the days of innocence when my little place seemed to be the whole world. Those were the days when I learned to find Stockholm, Venice and Barcelona on the map.

Today as I listen to these carefully preserved CDs, I wonder if the sound of music is really about the sound of musical memories of life. Actually, once I did spent a week at the palace in Salzburg where Sound of Music (the movie) was filmed but it does not mean much too me. It was another beautiful site, a good walk around the lake in the evening and that's it. Every minute was neatly planned, as by this time I had entered my professional life. Gone were the days of chance encounters in Venice and planned encouters in a Spanish village store. And that's why Pachakuti means so much to me. It is at the corner of Ahlens that despite all my busy appointments, I often did not care and simply allowed myself to be one with the return of time.

(The accompanying picture is of Stressa. Music is less about words and instruments and more about moments.)

Chat with my neighbour's dog

I go for a walk every morning on a promenade overlooking a beach. It is separated by a tall and strong fence from the promenade of the neighbouring apartment building. One morning, beyond the fence, I saw a huge alsatian dark coloured dog. We were both approaching the fence from our respective two ends of the promenade. Suddenly the dog started barking. As we moved further, he began to jump. I thought he was going to attack me. I felt scared. Then I assured myself that the dog would not be able to jump over the fence. The fence is about 15-20 feet high with sharp spikes. Yet I fled away from the promenade. As I started running, the dog barked even more loudly.

This happened for several days. The moment the dog noticed me, he would begin barking loudly, jumping up and down, always running towards the fence. I made a rule to leave the promenade the moment I would spot him from a distance. One day, my little son came for a walk and headed streight for the fence. The dog was barking. I was worried that that the dog might hurt the child, even though a strong fence was there between them. By the time I reached the fence, the dog had stopped barking. My son and the dog were playing with each other. When I reached there, the dog barked again but only mildly. My son forced me to touch the dog through the fence. I was scared but I did it. The dog waved his tail.

And then I suddenly wondered about all those days when I would run away from the fence. Maybe the dog never wanted to hurt me. Maybe he just beckoned me for company since we were the only two beings around there evey dawn. Since I did not understand his language, I took it for a message of enmity. There was no hostility in his mind. If only I could try to understand his language, I would be walking without fears all those mornings.

I had been going late for walk in the last few days. This morning I woke up early looked for the dog on the other side of the fence. He was not there. I felt alone walking along without any company at dawn.

the first morning of the 13th month

I write this looking at the sea from my window. As far as I can see there is only the sea. Quaint little boats from a nearby fishing island break the harmony from time to time. But as boats disapper, the waves remind me that the sea is not monotonous even without boats. Far away beyond the horizon, the sea meets the ocean and the ocean meets another ocean and the other ocean meets another one. There is no beginning and no end. Looking at the sea extending beyond the horizon, I realise that true meaning of life is not being captured in definitions. Cycle of life goes through sets of 12 months. But the real life rests beyond the horizon of the 12th month. Life is about the 13th month.