A NGO inaugurating an office to disburse Islamic microcredit to Afghans. This particular office will target women. Everyone's there, including the local State security deputy who a friend describes as "our local KGB".
After Quranic prayers, the inaugural ceremony starts. Speakers take the stage one after another. And then comes an old man,frail and bearded, easily in his 70s, wearing a pathan suit and a traditional pakhol cap. He is the Arbab, the Community leader and the patriarchal chief of the neighborhood. He starts slowly and calmly. And then suddenly, his pitch rises. Anger bursts forth and engulfs the hall. The object of his anger : the mullah of the local mosque who was absent from the occasion.
The mullah's absence is troubling because it might mean that he does not accept the NGO's sharia-compliant microcredit to be islamic enough. it might mean he thinks that this credit too involves usury and hence haraam (prohibited). Never mind the fact that many a Mufti has approved the loans to be Islamic. The mullah's reservations probably stem from the NGO being foreign.
But the old man does not let go. "Every friday these mullahs tell us this is moral, that is a crime, this is Islamic, that is haram...but where are they today when we're doing something good for the community?". His next words arrest me. "Our true jehad is against poverty".
The audience is too stunned to speak as the old man leaves the stage. Then the occasion's prayer leader, a minor cleric, runs up and explains how the loans are halal using analogies. The audience nods in consent. They will not allow the mullahs stop them from practising the true faith.

One of my all-time favorite songs, Saint Narsinh mehta's "vaishnav jan to...", well known to admirers of Gandhi. I've seen several translations on the net, but did not find any of them true to the song's spirit. Hence, here's my own translation (though my Gujarati is not exactly the best):

Vaishnav Jan to tene kahiye
Jay peerh paraaye janneyray
Par dukkhey upkar karey teeyey, man abhiman na anney ray
Sakal lokma Sahuney bandhey,
Ninda Na karye kainee ray
Baach kaachh, Man nischal Raakhey, dhan-dhan jananee tainee ray
Samdrishi nay trishna tyagee, par-stree jaynay mat ray
Vivihva thaki asatya na bolay, par-dhan nav jhaley haath ray
Moh maaya vyaayey nahin Jeynay, dridth vairagya jana manma ray
Ram-nam-shoom taalee laagee,
Sakal teerth seyna tanma ray
Vanloohee nay kapat rahit chhay,
Kaam, Krodh nivarya ray
Bhane Narsinhyo tainoo darshan karta kul ekotair taarya re.

Translation:

He is called the dearest of God, who feels the pain of his fellow man

Who serves to alleviate sorrow and never lets pride come in the way

Treats the entire world with humility

He never slanders another

His heart is pure as seen by his word and deed

The mother that bore him is truly blessed.

Having attained equanimity, he longs for nothing

And treats women with respect

His tongue never utters a word of falsehood

His hands never tainted by corruption

Ambition and pretension have no meaning for him

Detachment from all is firmly rooted in his soul

The name of God is ever on his lips

In him resides all that is sacred.

Free from Greed and Deceit

Cured of desire and wrath

Narsi sees that the generations to come

Of this man will be eternally blessed.

A legacy...how often do we think of it?

If you are in politics or in any position of leadership in the world, you are bound to wonder as to what your legacy will be. Legacy is not just about the words history chooses for you and your time on the world's stage. A legacy is about the choices you make today so that tomorrow's generation will have easier choices to make itself. The wars you start, the peace you bring, the love you spread, the defeat you forgive, the vendetta you ignore, the strength you display, the wealth you share, the dreams you create, the works made your hand, the genius you bring to the world...every step of your life involves choices and every choice shapes your legacy.

I met two remarkable American statesmen this last month; people who (whether you like them or not) have left their imprint on history and are I'm sure thinking of their legacies now. I met Donald Rumsfeld, the former US Secretary of Defense, at a function last month and briefly exchanged words. And this week, I sat a few feet away from Condoleezza Rice, the US Secretary of State, as she spoke at Georgetown.

Rumsfeld, the most hated man in the Middle East, is seen as the diabolic architect of the Iraq war. My own impression of him was that of an old man who's convinced he did everything in the best manner possible and who feels the world hasnt recognised his contributions. Rice on the other hand, ever the diplomat, feels that we should focus on the positives and triumphs of her foreign policy. Rumsfeld and Rice - Two individuals, who have played a key role in the last seven tempestous years of history of the US and the world. Two individuals who were good professionals. Two individuals who wielded enormous power. Two individuals troubled by their (troubled) legacies.

Last weekend, I was flying over the North Pole. Well, at least close to the North Pole somewhere north of the Arctic circle.

It was a trans-polar flight from Washington to Tokyo. And I looked down. There down below was a sea of ice. A sea split by rivulets of water. Miles and miles of ice, icy ridges with furrows as though they were the wrinkles of an aging earth.

And suddenly the fragility of this scene hit me. Forget Al Gore and Pachauri. Forget the floods across the world. Forget every consequence of global warming. Except one. if this ice melted, this beauty that has protected itself from humanity's hand through its icy demeanour, will be tarnished forever. And with it will vanish all the life it is home to - those species that have thrived under its robe of ice.

That could happen. That must not happen.