In Pursuit of Music: Qissa Doam

In continuation to the last piece, I found bits of information on the Jews Harp, the Gopichand and Tumbakh Naer; enough to string up a few hundred words. 

I’d gone to the store looking for the Jews harp; an instrument I first discovered while hearing Ali Sethi’s rendition of a ghazal by Faiz. Although I cannot comment on his writing, not having had the chance to read him, his voice made me want to ask for his hand in marriage. In the background Chugge Khan accompanies him on the Morsing. A lovely instrument; this mouth harp and produces a trippy, twang of a sound you might associate with the backdrop in qawallis. It won't take you more than a day to learn how to pluck it and with a good sense of rhythm you'll easily get the hang of it.

The unique sound , so characteristically folk, got me curious of it origins so i went and looked it up; a plunge into cultural history transcending borders. This simple plaything of a harp turns out to be one of the oldest musical instruments to have existed. Over centuries it has made appearances in many cultures, crossing continents with its sheer simplicity.  You may it call it Morsing, Changu, Khomus or by any of the thousand other names that exist for it across the world, but the essence of this instruments mind boggling popularity binds you. History engulfs you while playing this tiny piece of iron which, from China in the third century BC spread to the Middle East and eventually Europe becoming an inherent part of their culture. In India, you find its presence in traditional Carnatic and Sindhi music.

On my last visit to the store, fidgeting around I happened to pick up this elongated single stringed bamboo instrument. Pluck it and the sound brings back visuals of mythology shows on Doordarshan. The Ektara or Gopichand, has long been associated with minstrels and is played by plucking the string and changing the pitch by pressing the neck together. A distinctive trance like sound, every bend of the body produces a sound quite different from the last, and you make music just by using your ear and instinct. Very popular in Bengali, Punjabi and Sindhi folk music, the sound of this is still associated with devotion and wandering bards. This simple, unsophisticated, rural folk instrument is now gaining a global appeal. Mix it with the Morsing for your own tribal dubstep.


In Paharganj I tried finding one of the first instruments I was acquainted with; the Kashmiri wedding drum called Tumbakh Naer. This, together with the Noat, is played by the women in the backdrop of Kashmiri wedding music, Wanvun.  Although I couldn't find it, I found the djembe. A fairly popular African goblet drum, it is very similar to the Persian Tonbak or the Kashmiri Tombakhnaer. Though very distinct in the sounds they produce their similarity is striking. The Tonbak is the main percussion instrument in Persian Music. In Kashmir the tonbak is called Tombakh Naar and is fairly similar except it is made of red clay instead of wood. History suggests, like influences in art and architecture, the tumbankh near might have come to Kashmir from Central Asia where too, it is played by the women folk. 

The noat is arguably the most plebeian of musical instruments. An ordinary earthen or brass pot, it is typically used to store water and easily converted into the most basic of percussion instruments. It is similar to earthenware being used as instruments in other parts of India; the Matki in Rajasthan and Ghatam in South India. This coincidence, like many others,  must be a consequence of travels down winding paths of a journey of musical influence.

Music thrives on this influence. It is not born out of nothingness, nor does it live long enough in its originality. It is phenomenal how each of these instruments weaves into itself, a story. Each has a story that speaks of traditions crossing cultures, interspersing beautifully on their way and creating a niche in a different ethnic universe, far away. 

You must check out:

Pictorial World Map of Jews Harp’s Across the World:

http://www.silk-road.com/images/vol2num2/large/sr4p52map1.jpg

Ali Sethi Singing:

http://vimeo.com/9037190

Dan Moi on the Gopichand: 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UIC4ONM547I

Folk Instruments of Kashmir:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hZioEOytIPk

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kM5RMAuxQyo

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1pbhSrOBi-0

In Pursuit of Music: Qissa Awwal

 in the hopes that someday i will learn music, i pick up instruments that excite me and play them for a few weeks before giving up. to make something of this whole exercise, i decided to write about them in a series. this is the first part.

As you walk into the shady by lanes of Paharganj, amidst the row of shops with people sporting thick, put-on accents, selling paraphernalia they think might appeal to tourists on pot, you notice how the city transforms here. There is constant hustle and bustle of people carrying rucksacks; backpacking like you always thought you would one day. There are stalls selling artifacts you would like to buy except you're horribly unsure of the quality and the bargaining it would entail; and then there is that occasional shady hotel. The likes you see being rented out on an hourly basis in Hindi movies, tactfully guised as a Hotel Decent. All in all a lovely place I'd like to restrict my visits to, to twice in a lifetime. The second time probably just to get cheap thrills looking at the movie posters outside the once grand, Imperial Theater. This time there was a ridiculously busty Indian woman with bleached hair posing as, ‘Mere Pati ki Girlfriend’.
Magical place, really.

What probably goes unnoticed in this trippy setting is a foot wide passage opposite Sam’s Café; a staircase fit to be any claustrophobic's nightmare, leads up to this happy little hovel called the Indian Music House.

In here, a hundred instruments are crammed into a ten foot space. They hang from the walls; they're lined against the boundaries; an occasional banjo or a flute looms over your head as you climb the staircase. You find some in boxes, others are out of sight but ask the man in charge for it and he’ll pull it right out.

There is something about this place that invites you to dedicate your life to the beautiful art of music. Every sitar beckons you to flirt with the strings; the tablas want your hands tapping them. You pick up a banjo and think to yourself, 'This won’t be too tough to learn, will it?' I'm not joking when I say this place inspires hope. It stimulates beautiful visuals of you playing a lovely tune, sitting at the edge of a river dangling your legs over it.

Coming back to reality, this is also probably the only place in Delhi you will find a Rabab within a sane budget. This beautiful Afghani string instrument finds it origins in Central Asia. The National Instrument of Afghanistan, the Rabab I was looking for is popularly known as the Kabuli rabab; a three singed lute carved out of a single piece of wood. Unlike its Iranian counterpart, you pluck the Kabuli rabab for it to make that deep, stirring sound that is vaguely reminiscent of childhood for me. The Rabab has three strings, usually made of nylon and around 12 sympathetic strings. These are attached to the long slender curved body, even the tuning pegs of which are so beautiful you'd buy it just to decorate your room; an excuse I often give for not knowing how to play it.

Although it has been around a long time, the Rabab is virually extinct in India. Still an important folk instrument in Afghanistan and Kashmir, it slowly ran out of popular culture making way for instruments that emerged through its influence. It is widely believed to be the predecessor for the Sarod and Sarangi.

The story Rabab is fascinating. A product of cultural intermingling showcasing the strong influence of Central Asian traditions in Kashmiri culture, the Rabab finds its way into Sikhism as well. Bhai Mardana, Guru Nanak’s companion is depicted in artworks as a Rabab player. Legend has it that the Seni Rabab (found in India, named after Tansen) originally had five strings. Bhai Mardana and Guru Nanak, together added the sixth.

In Kashmiri music, the instrument plays a very significant role being widely used in wedding music as well as an accompaniment to Sufiana Kalaam.  The rich, thick sound of the Rabab, has been adopted into popular folk music by really talented trio Yasir and Jawad who bring a delightful pushto influence to their music. They started with a cover and now have two more beautiful folk songs to their credit.

While on the hunt for a rabab, I started playing around with some other instruments. Even childish things like the egg shakers look so exciting in this place. It's a new world in there. And the man who owns the music store certainly knows his stuff. Ask him to demonstrate and he’ll play you tunes on a Jews harp with as much ease as blowing into a didjeridoo, a five foot long Australian wooden trumpet. Impressive, really. I might add this to my list of prospective careers.

(continued)

You must check out:

For Kashmir Music with Rabab as an accompaniment:
http://funkar.org/

Yasir and Jawad:
http://www.reverbnation.com/yasirjawad/songs
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e4UvnzIjMyo

Scroll down this link to see mindblowing pictures of a Rabab being carved out:
http://paleoplanet69529.yuku.com/topic/48564/Afghani-Rabab-Construction#.UR8YHKWLCTw

More:
http://onaiza.tumblr.com/image/22120435110

CBS

 when i wrote this as the editorial for the college magazine (where of course it was appropriately censored for any negative sounding word against the college) i never thought i'd re read it. today i miss the damned place.

A few months from now as we’ll walk back into this dusty compound beautifully camouflaged as a Boys’ government school building, it will have a strange feeling of being alien to us. Unknown faces of the new batch of first years will nervously dart their eyes around, trying, desperately, to pick up tips to fit in or try and be horribly loud to attract attention. Second years will strut around the campus like they run it. Third years, with their blissful sense of realization that all deadlines can be pushed and no task is worth worrying for, will go lazily albeit wistfully about their daily work.
This is CBS.
Where everyone knew everyone.

Today if someone asks me about my college experience, I’ll tell them that the gates shut at 9 am sharp leaving half the college panting and begging the guard to let them in. I’ll also tell them how we are only slightly different from the school they’ll pass out of. The legend of how every passing truck shakes the foundations of the building ever so slightly and the mysterious urinals in the girls washroom shall also be narrated to them. Yet, in this hopeless setting comes to you the wonderful realization of who you really are. It is in this Jhilmil wonderland that we transform, being a different person every year to finally being someone we are at peace with. 

The best thing about CBS was always its people. There is no one here you cannot talk to. There are cliques, there is a slightly more than acceptable number of societies and a little too many BlackBerrys littered around the campus, but what never dies is the chatter.
Self-glorifying as this may sound, but with us ends an era. With us end the dreaded mid-sems, five subjects a semester and, much to the chagrin of teachers, the old course. We can only hope that the fresh batches live up to us, clicking as many pictures and outdoing each other with as many events. 

As we bid farewell, let us make a few promises to ourselves, write letters to our future selves, dream a little more and most importantly try not get stuck in the inevitable rut of mediocrity. 

Nahin tera nasheman ,qasr-e-sultani ki gumbad par,
Tu shaheen hai, basera kar, pahadon ki chattanon par. 
~Iqbal
(You don’t have to make your nest on the dome of Queen’s palace, 
Oh Eagle, you are royal, choose to reside on the peaks of mountains.)

Nasheman

For all things pretty that catch my eye,

Colours and all kinds of dye(?),

Check out my tumblr.

:P

http://onaiza.tumblr.com/

Naqsh Faryaadi

Aur bhi dukh hain zamane mein mohabbat ke siwa

Rahatein aur bhi hain wasl ki raahat ke siwa. ~Faiz Ahmed Faiz

(Other pains exist than those that love brings, Other joys than those of lovers’ union.)

Urdu poetry is reminiscent of a childhood not so long ago. I grew up, conditioned to hate the sappy tales of romance it brought along, ridicule the concept of the shaa’ir surrendering his being to the mehboob (beloved) and literally snort at the idea of wallowing in the misery of heartbreak. It is amazing how much has changed. What then seemed like an obligatory study of a dying script is something I connect to and identify with as a culture I should have felt for a little more while I had the chance. Even after ten years of studying the language, I still could not read a paragraph as fluently as I would have had it been in English. I couldn’t skim through the lines to know what it was about; I had to make an effort to join the alphabets in my head minding the ‘zer-zabar-pesh’ and create sounds. Rediscovering Urdu through poetry is mystical. The imagery, the articulation and frankly, just the fancy words give the language a feel so dreamy that you go into a thoughtful pseudo trance just by reciting a shair inside your head.

Hazaron Khwahishen aisi ki har Khwahish pe dam nikle Bohot nikle mere arman lekin phir bhi kam nikle. ~Ghalib

(The thousands of longings are such that over every longing I would die. Many of my wishes/regrets 'emerged'-- but still, few did.)

Does the couplet above not make you think of every tiny unfulfilled wish you ever had? Or how you ignored to revel in the happiness of those that did come true?

Nahin tera nasheman ,qasr-e-sultani ki gumbad par, Tu shaheen Hai, basera kar, pahadon ki chattanon par. ~Iqbal

(You don’t have to make your nest on the dome of Queen’s palace, Oh Eagle, you are royal, choose to reside on the peaks of mountains.)

Or this. Does it not inspire you to break through shackles of mediocrity telling you how you are destined for grandeur and things more majestic?

Jee dhondhta hai phir wohi fursat ke, raat din bethien rahien tasavur-janan kiye hue. ~ Ghalib

(My soul still seek those nights and days of leisure, When we would idle away, picturing the beloved in our head)

This of course, strikes a different chord with each of us. Nostalgia is always all around. We find different things to reminisce about. Memories are always beautiful. Our mind always finds ways of preserving the best of even the worst times. It could be the memory of a happy childhood symbolised by a picture of you running across the playground; the resounding laughter that plays in the back of your head, reminding you of people you’ve not heard of since long or even the first time you fell in love, simplistically and beautifully. Whatever the memory be, this shair does not go without taking you down memory lane, on a wholly personal journey which never fails to wrinkle your face with a smile.

Phir ji meñ hai kih dar pah kisi ke pare raheñ sar zer-bar-e minnat-e darbañ kiye huʾe. ~Ghalib

(Again it's in our inner-self that we would remain lying at someone's door having placed our head under a burden/obligation of the kindness/favour of the doorkeeper)

Urdu poets believed in love; self-consuming, destructive love ending in surrender of self to the beloved. Let the love possess your being, give yourself up entirely. As a concept, it may be terrifying but this poetry glorifies it. In most cases the love was unrequited, it came with misery but it was the sweet sorrow of a love that consumes all senses.

Nikalna khuld se adam ka sunte aʾe haiñ lekin bahut be-abru ho kar tire kuche se ham nikle. ~Ghalib

(We have often heard of the ousting of Adam from heaven, but the dishonour with which I was ousted from your haven was worse)

Recite anything a few times. It makes you want to fall hopelessly in love. It even makes you want to love and not be loved back, just to taste rejection; to add the missing dash of drama in your life; to love like never before.

Sham-e-firaq aab na pooch, aai aur aa ke Tul gai dil tha ke phir bhehal gaya, jaaN thee ke phir sanbhal gai. ~Faiz Ahmed Faiz

(Ask no more (about) the night of separation; it came, and passed. The heart got diverted again; life found its feet again)

Only then will you be able to appreciate the pleasures of love and the poetic bitter pangs of separation.

Dair nahiñ haram nahiñ dar nahiñ astañ nahiñ baithe haiñ rah-guzar pah ham ghair hameñ uthaʾe kyuñ. ~Ghalib

(Not a temple/church, not the Ka’bah/ a holy place, not a door, not a doorsill--we've sat down by the roadway-- why would the stranger(ghair) cause us to get up [and leave]?)

And of course, the irreverence towards the beloved; the constant urge to irk them just so you get their attention. Every shaa’ir has a different style, and different themes. They have underlying meanings, subtexts and undertones. My teachers tried to convince us, despite the constant imagery of the mehboob’s rosy lips, that the poet was talking about being in love with God. Mehboob-e-haqiqi, as they call it. I am not qualified enough to comment or state my opinion on any of it, but my interpretations lead me to believe that these poets, like Ancient Greeks, revered passion. Thus the ultimate quest in every man’s life was the transcend above it all and transform from being a lover to a true deewana.

Seven things you should probably try out- Delhi

Another collaborative post with @MyOwnKryptonite, for BLAH.

Find the original piece here.

The Iced Tea at Cha Bar
Tragically, this haven for any tea-loving bookworm, as part of the Oxford Bookstore, is being shifted out of its famed location at the Statesman House (at least, we hope it is, it’d be a damn shame if it shut down). A few months ago, however, Cha Bar served, without a doubt, one of the best Iced Teas in the Capital. Offering a variety of choices (Strawberry, Passion Fruit, Orange, Mint, what-have-you), this freshly brewed glass of absolute joy, topped with a generous helping of ice, was just what any Delhiite would need in the scorching heat of the city’s summer.
What makes it delicious is the perfect balance the brewers (who, as far as we’re concerned, are geniuses who eat sunshine and excrete rainbows) manage to create between the bitterness of a fresh brew of tea (not the packaged powder kinds) and the sweetness required in a cool drink. Not many fresh-brewed iced teas in the city can do that.
Conveniently enough, the Bar is located within the Oxford Bookstore, which only adds to its already astounding amount of charm. Bring a friend, grab a table, order a couple of Iced Teas, perhaps a snack or two (try the quiches) and you’re good for the next couple of hours.

Veracruz Fish at Sanchos
The sad thing about Sanchos is that it is probably the best place to get Mexican food in and around Delhi, or at least in the top five, but due to the ungodly construction in Connaught Place happening right outside its entrance for a good semi-year, the first few crucial months of Sancho’s operation were clouded in empty tables and low-customer rates. From what we’ve heard, though, Sancho’s really stepped up right after the completion of the construction which finally allowed people to enter it without having to rummage their way through several metres of mud and grime. In any case, I wish them all the very best.

Getting to the point, the food. Once you’re done with the complimentary drink they offer to every customer (it changes everyday, we were served a chilled tomato juice with some tabasco, herbs and a very nutty flavour provided by the cucumber and dry fruits put into it), go ahead and order the Veracruz Fish. The whole set-up is only enough for one person (though we’ve been known for pretty much ignoring the gluttony part of the deadly sins, so it may be two), and comprises the fish, grilled to perfection with JUST the right mixture of herbs and spices to make your mouth water just from the brilliant aroma, Mexican rice with refried beans, a variety of sauces and dips and a corn-on-the-cob. The whole platter pretty much adds up to one of the most satisfying meals you’ve ever had. If the dryness of it doesn’t appeal to you, pair it with a Kiwi Martini and the masterpiece is complete.
The whole place is a little much on the budget front but its worth every penny.

Karims-Nayaab Maghz Masala/Shahi Tukra

Karim’s being on the list of things to try out in Delhi is no surprise. Whatever you read, whoever you ask, this will always be one of the top recommendations for Mughlai food. You probably might not like to visit it if you’re vegetarian . Though not the classiest ambiance or the most polite staff, Karims manages to be a huge crowd puller.
You will, of course try the usual Mutton Burra, Raan, Tikkas and the likes, but what you might not have tried is the Nayaab Maghz Masala. In simpler words, brain curry. Agreed, it doesn’t sound very appetizing and we were hesitant enough to try it out ourselves, but it is addictive. It is soft. tender and leaves a delicate, warm flavour that makes you want to not stop eating it. Try it with the butter naan;they go well together. It is an absolute treat for your taste buds, not in the ‘explosion of spices in my mouth’ kind of way, but in the ‘I don’t want to stop eating this heavenly thing’ way. Even if the thought of sheep brain rumbling in your tummy is disturbing, believe us it is worth a try.
The Shahi Tukra is a simple bread pudding which,more often than not, isn’t well prepared. On the day’s that it is, the delicious crispiness of the bread blends with the creamy flavour and the nuts on top. If you manage to savour the bites before gobbling up the whole thing, it has an aromatic milky flavour that teases your mouth; very subtly sweet and very delightfully royal.

Karim’s is always a double thumbs up, although you might want to stick to the better branches: Jama Masjid, Nizamuddin and Noida, we’d say. If you’re an early riser the Nahari and Paaya (trotters),served at the Jama Masjid outlet in the mornings, are to die for. Happy, spicy, mutton binging to you.

Pastries at Wengers
Again, we probably don’t need to tell you about this because if you’ve lived in Delhi, you would have heard of the absolute delight that is this grand old pastry shop in Connaught Place. Try the Shami Kebab, it is legen-wait for it-DAIRY. (Get it? Because they have dairy based products. What? Yes, we know the Kebab has no dairy in it. Alright, never mind.)

Our recommendation is you go for the Beehive Bun. Excessively creamy, cinnamon-y, and a disastrous mess as you eat, it is worth every blob of cream smeared across your face. The soft, sweet flavour and the feathery texture of the dessert will make you smack yourself for not having tried it before. You could indulge yourself in their range of Mousses, ranging from Chocolate to Strawberry to Passion Fruit. Try their Lemon Tarts, they do not disappoint. If you’re not one for experimentation, though, even a simple chocolate eclair pastry seems twice as nice if made at that magical fun-factory of bliss.

What we wouldn’t recommend is trying to finish their big cup-of-chocolate-pudding, not unless you’re in a group of four people or more. It looks tempting, but trust us, that is a LOT of chocolate, even for hogs like us. (To give you a scale of reference, we once almost finished the Waffle challenge at Mrs. Kaur’s in Khan Market, but more on that in another review)

But all deliciousness aside, go to Wenger’s because, after 80 years of existence, the shop manages to retain the aura of the old days. It’s like a wonderful time machine, except the time machine is now filled with sugar and chocolate and delicious food.

We fail to see the downside.

The Chicken Dum Biryani at Max Mueller Bhavan:

The walk down Haley Road, from the Barakhamba Road metro station to K.G. Marg (where Max Mueller Bhavan is located), transports you to a different era. Colonial style houses and old high rise buildings, give out the hauntingly nostalgic feel that surrounds Connaught Place and around. In summers, the brilliant yellow Amaltas trees just add to the ambience. You cannot help but slip into a reverie.
Max Mueller Bhavan is a German cultural institution and that is probably the extent of my knowledge about its workings. What I do know very well is the menu at the tiny little Café Goethe.
It’s a bunch of picnic tables put together and looks like any regular cafeteria, none too fancy, often without a working fan. But the food. Oh the food.
Take our word for it, and before anything else order yourself a tall glass of their ice tea. At 25 bucks a glass, it’s the cheapest, most refreshing drink this summer. Not your regular Nestea, this is brewed to perfection with just the perfect blend of bitter sweet and garnished with mint.
At a place like this, a biryani won’t be your instant choice, but try it out. The spicy mix is not like the other biryani’s you would have eaten. To be honest, it’s nothing like any biryani I’ve ever eaten but it is downright delicious. It has a wholesome, melt in your mouth feel to it and coupled with the ice tea, you have what constitutes a meal that makes your taste buds tingle thinking of it.

Go for the lovely walk, the quiet chatter and the thoughtfulness that surrounds but mostly go for the cheap food. You will fall in love.

Pav Bhaji at Mayur Vihar, Phase-II

Tucked away in an inconspicuous corner on backside of the very popular Phase II market, this may not be the most hygienic of places but the lip smacking food makes up for it. The perfect hurried meal, it is spicy, buttery and the pavs are soft and delectable. The spicy aroma from the huge tava, while the man cooks it, tingles your taste buds. The anticipation makes you salivate. When you finally get to eat the butter laden dish, it does not disappoint. Two rickety tables out in the open make up this joint but evenings in the neighbourhood would be a lot less satiating without it. If you don’t believe us, try going to the shop anytime after 7. A neighbourhood favorite, the brilliance of this place is impossible to access except at odd timings.

At 35 bucks a plate, it makes for a pretty wholesome meal, and a very delicious one at that.

Swagath

We’ll make it as simple as possible, you haven’t had South Indian food till you’ve had their Sea Food. And in Delhi, you haven’t had South Indian food till you’ve had it Swagath. It’s all over the place, Noida, Malviya Nagar, GK (from what we know, look it up).

We’ll cut to the very delicious chase.

Walk straight in and order the Prawn Gassi with Appam. The gassi, essentially, is a coconut curry spiced to perfection, so the prawn gassi, in essence, is prawn in coconut curry. But then, food isn’t just its ingredients, is it? The brilliant flavor of this dish is anything from ordinary. Its only the best thing to happen to the South Indian food scene in Delhi since we discovered the Paper Dosa (don’t smirk, you’ve been there with your family patting your own backs for stumbling upon that thin, paper-like rice dish of magical awesomeness).

Of course, the best thing you can possibly order with the Gassi is a plate of Appams or Idiyappams. The Appam is a soft, water based rice pancake that seems to disappear into nothingness inside your stomach, so you can have as much of it as you want and never get full. The Idiyappam has a similar effect, except the pancake is in the form of a bunch of water-based rice noodles pressed together. Coupled with the Prawn Gassi, these make for, dare I say it, the perfect meal.
But that’s not all. Top your meal off with a tall, chilled glass oof Sol Kadi, a remarkably delicious Kokam based coconut drink enriched with only the best spices the south has to offer. Mustard seeds, chilli, you-name-it.
Once again, Swagath isn’t all that light on your wallet, but its twice as light on your stomach and fifty-magical-ka-unicorn-zillion times better on your taste-buds than most other things you’ll eat in the city. We’d say go for it. Now. NOW!

The Times They Are a-Changin’

Social networking as an agent of change.

While on the 20^th of April, like all regular Wednesdays, we were scurrying off to our tasks, oblivious to the rest of the world, a few amongst us gathered for a cause in a refreshingly odd manner. The 'Please Mend The Gap’ initiative organised a flash-mob to sensitize Delhi Metro travelers towards harassment of women passengers. The thirty people who participated, and others who promoted it, heard of it through Facebook. They then tweeted about it using #flashmob and #delhi as hashtags. Though the turnout for this first of its kind initiative wasn’t huge, it was a brilliant start.

A fortnight ago, twitter users saw #freefaizan trending. Started by Amnesty International India, this campaign sought to free a 14 year old boy detained for stone pelting in Kashmir. He was eventually released on sympathy grounds after garnering support from micro-bloggers worldwide, a majority of whom directed their tweets to the state CM, Omar Abdullah.

Not quite so long ago, social networking fueled one of the most influential revolutions in modern times by garnering international support and organizing the protests. The Egypt Revolution had a palpating presence online to the extent that each of us would feel the pain of every martyr slain, anxiously await any news and finally rejoice in the victory.

Social Networking has officially arrived as a way of life; as an increasingly potent weapon waiting to be harnessed and used for bringing about a new phenomenon every day. It is, indeed, mind boggling to even picture the impact and presence social media has had in our lives since the last few years. Unknowingly and unconsciously we have molded ourselves to fit in; to get used to it as it slowly creeps into every aspect of our daily lives. It has now gone well beyond pictures and status messages. Marketing, as we knew it, has been redefined. With social media consultancies mushrooming everywhere it is evident how every company wants its share of the client’s attention. For things as small as summer internships to college fests, networking and publicity was never so simple or direct.

Social networking has made the world fit into this tiny shell with huge networks, which connect each to the other. It is paradoxical, how on one hand we lie holed up, glued to our computers while simultaneously building relationships of trust with people from not just different parts of the world, but different social strata and cliques. Social networking brought about a lot of changes; none compares to the change in perceptions.

But if what it has taught us were to be summed up, it would be just the one thing: to never be complacent. It has taught us to raise a voice when dissatisfied and make ourselves heard. Complacency and procrastinating die when making a change is as simple as a few clicks. If you want change, chances are a majority of the others do too. With the power of social networking today, change isn’t tough and it isn’t far. Today, I know I can.