Issue March 1 – 14, 2003

Everything changes... or should

Every child grows up and away. Every project grows into another stage. The Femina Miss India Contest did just that. It grew into a brand as respectable and awesome as its parent brand, the magazine, and reached a stage when it had to find a life of its own.

And this year, the umbilical cord was finally cut, swiftly and cleanly, and the event stood on its own. Which meant, despite the fact that we were the umbrella under which the event operated, the contest became the direct responsibility of a new team that blazed its own paths, and found its own moorings.

It was an adventure for all concerned; charting even once travelled waters always is. For us, it was a bit like watching a child grow up and take its first few steps. Stumbles and all, it is a sign that very soon, the tentative steps will turn to surer ones, and will finally be able to run swift and long, as any one else.

For the winners and all the young hopefuls who bear the Femina name, however, the magazine remains a harbour where they can replenish their hopes and set sail to new and further horizons. That has always been a role the magazine has played, and that will never change.

* * *

I never knew Kalpana Chawla. Never could track her down on her rare visits home, but always admired her for what she did — dared to go where no other Indian woman had dared to go before. Into the very heart of space. To me, she epitomised the very spirit of Indian womanhood, the fact that we can do exactly as we want to do where realising our dreams is concerned. Which is why, as we worked on our cover story this issue, to celebrate Indian women achievers in every field, the first picture we reached into the archives for was that of Kalpana Chawla.

When a day later, I was woken to the fact that she was forever a piece of space, I could not believe it.

Each of us has within us the seed of our end, and those who make risky lifestyles their own, know that they intensify the chances of a sudden, untimely end. Yet it is hope that keeps us going, the feeling that it will not really happen to us.

Even today, it is hard to believe that an expedition so brave, and even as routine as it had become, could go wrong, and the fact that it carried Kalpana to her end makes it doubly poignant.

Yet, there will be others, space will continue to be explored, like other frontiers have been through the ages, despite the risks.

To Kalpana Chawla, whose spirit has lit countless hopes, Femina pays homage.

* * *

Going to Tirupati always gladdens my heart. Even as we drive up the seven hills, the forests around make me feel I am in a sylvan paradise. The afforestation drive by the temple authorities has been truly successful, and wildlife is reportedly coming back to inhabit the wilderness.

According to plans, the afforestation will soon extend up to Raichur, which is about six hours away by train. Which will vastly improve the rainfall and climate of a state that lies parched and panting through most of the year.

What however, still upsets me is the fact that despite the strictness and the very professional regulation of everything from queues and tickets for ‘darshans’, the cupidity of the temple denizens continues. Whether it is the woman near the sanctum sanctorum or the beggar on the street, each one is out to fleece the pilgrim.

Perhaps it is the pilgrim who is to blame too, because there are many among them who find it easier to get a good ‘darshan’ by greasing a palm here or there. Somehow it dismays me, this attitude that God does not see what is going on, and wrong is right, even if it is done just to see Him from closer quarters or for a longer moment.

Finally, all the hidden cameras cannot stop graft, if the inner eye is closed and the conscience is stilled. But even knowing that, does not make it easier to come to terms with the fact that people believe that even God can be bought with a few pieces of nickel and rectangles of printed paper.