Blasted into Agnosticism? By Believers.

Here's a headline for you - The Daughter of the East has fallen victim to the regions' time honoured tradition of filicide. Benazir Bhutto assassinated by bullets and bombs at a fateful Rawalpindi rally pictured to the left...with the word Shahid chillingly emblazoned below her in a fitting final shot...rendering captions superfluous.

I'm surprised by how sad I feel. I never thought much of Benazir after her two failed prime ministerships. She made a mess out of two precious opportunities that her countrymen gave her - discredited democracy for several years along with her inept alter ego, Nawaz Sharif - and made it easy for the military establishment to take over her country each time. So much so that its taken 7 years of an incompetent, though largely benevolent, dictatorship to bring democracy back in fashion in Pakistan.

But Benazir first came to power around the time that I first started following politics and so she's been part of the political world as I've known it, forever. She was like a slightly crazy aunt that I'd gotten used to having around, periodically noisy but largely irrelevant. Her 15 minutes up, she seemed destined to live out her years in affluence in London...seemingly delusional about her achievements and importance and seemingly paranoid about how just about everyone was out to get her.

Well today, I guess this can be said - She was important and They were out to get her. And though she was an imperfect leader. Though she was smug and self-important. Though she was corrupt. She was also Pakistan's only real liberal, moderate, secular voice of any importance. She was also, I think, courageous. Of all the condolences that poured out on the news, I think Italy's Prime Minister Romano Prodi was the one that really put that into perspective for me. He said, she was "a woman who chose to fight her battle until the end with a single weapon - the one of dialogue and political debate." And whatever else she was, that is true of Benazir and I think given the way things are in Pakistan today, using only dialog and debate is immensely courageous. I think she came back despite the danger, to get one last chance to redeem herself and with her courage and in her martyrdom, I think she succeeded.

The sad thing is that her attackers have probably succeeded not just in her murder but also in their wider objective of driving Pakistan in a more Islamist direction. An assassination is such a horrible thing. All the possibilities and hopes eliminated just like that in a flash - I hate assassinations. Among other things, I think they're responsible for the rise of rampant right-wing Republicanism in the US (JFK, Bobby Kennedy, Martin Luther King) and of the end of the Israel-Palestine peace process (Rabin)...and the sad thing is its always the extremists who assassinate the moderates because by definition moderates won't do such things. Those unable to win the debate with ideas and inspiration have often succeeded in winning the debate with assassinations. And in causing so much more misery for thousands, even millions of people for years and even decades, before another leader comes along to show the way out.

Through the course of the day, I found my thoughts veering in directions agnostic. I should say first, that I've always believed in God(s). Always. Even as I turned completely, vehemently away from religion, I continued to believe in God and to pray to Him/Her/Them. But today as I thought about assassinations and their intolerable effectiveness, I wondered. Would God, if he exists, really choose to test us by allowing these things to happen? Would he, like a bad soap opera script-writer who builds up a beautiful romance and then kills off one of the audience-beloved pair, manipulate our emotions just to keep us interested in him? And even if he allowed assassinations to happen, wouldn't he make sure that the vision of the fallen leader was miraculously realized? Wouldn't that be the best way to teach a lesson to those b***ards out there - Instead of deepening the misery of the largely-innocent?

Going by history, I have little hope that Benazir's killing will not lead to more turmoil in Pakistan and a move away from a modern liberal path...leading either to years of violence or years of suppression under a tyrannical military or theological regime.

I pray it won't happen. But I'm increasingly not very confident that there's some non-denominational being or beings out there listening.

Rainbows in the Moonlight

POSTCARDS FROM ITALY

UMBRELLAS THAT LIGHT UP THE NIGHT

Of all the words that I wouldn't have expected to find in the title of a rip-roaring pop-hit (or the topic of a blog-post), 'umbrella' would be pretty high up in the list. And when I first heard Rihanna's Umbrella I was mightily unimpressed. I found it slow and difficult to dance to...I found the ella-ella-ellaing in the song juvenile and irritating...and I didn't really know much about the singer (Rihanna) or her previous work.

And then, on an aimless melancholia-fueled drive through a fogged-up Presidio one cold September night, I heard the song play out on Energy (my favourite FM station here). There's something wonderfully isolating and peaceful about the Presidio at night. For those who don't know, the Presidio is a densely cypress-populated oasis of greenery that occupies a generous patch of ground between San Francsico and the Golden Gate. It was once an army base with pretty military style bungalows that now rent out for as much as $30k per month. With many more trees than houses, its a great neighbourhood to drive through when one is looking to get away from the bustle of the city without crossing water.

I bring up the Presidio because, I think it was its quiet, deepened by the fog that allowed me to focus on Rihanna's tone rather than the lyrics...I heard the way she belted out the lines - starting with a slight dip right at the beginning before letting her voice rise through the rest of the line and then leaving it hanging at the top of a crest without letting it actually fall...as if she were letting the words float away from her. Somehow the way the lines were sung, made the rather simplistic lyrics and the promise embedded in them ("You have my heart...And we'll never be worlds apart) feel more sincere, more real. Hooked, I downloaded the song and listened to it more attentively - discovering that what had irritated earlier turned out to be disarming with repetition - awkward lyrics, genius-like sing-along chorus, the warm-welcome -on-a-rainy-night of the last lines "Its Pouring Rain, You can always come into me".

A convert to the song's fanbase since then, I've spent many a happy night chorusing "ella, ella, ella" along with friends in clubs, at house parties and on the streets after last call. In fact its a great yard-stick to judge new-found friends by - if someone can sing-along to Umbrella in public, I'm almost certain I've found a kindred spirit. At least on one occasion the song might have served as a kind of mating call ;) . I now think that the "ella-ing" in the song was a stroke of pop-genius...that assured the song a kind of cult status - so much so that even stodgy old Time magazine rated it in the Top 10 songs of the year (Hmm...Actually thats almost a negative in some ways).

I also think that it was because Rihanna opened my senses to the secret possibilities of the 'umble umbrella that on my second day in Rome - a cold, blustery, miserable wet one - I was able to keep my spirits up...despite the dreary weather and an aching knee injury. That day, I'd planned to see both the Vatican and the Roman ruins around the Colosseum. This being Italy, both the subway and the cabs were on strike...so walking was the only way to see the sights. Hobbled by my knee and distracted by bad weather, good cappuccino, souvenir hunting opportunities and running-group friends with less ambitious sight-seeing plans, I made very little progress.

By six I'd written the day off and decided to check out the Trevi Fountain and then call it a night. It was at the Fountain where I first noticed the quiet riot of colours that the streets had become as the persistent rain forced people to open up their umbrellas. There were hordes of tourists and locals at the Fountain and most carried umbrellas. Almost to the last one, the umbrellas had been dyed in bright solid single colours - that stood out in the rapidly darkening streets. This wasn't like Mumbai or London or even San Francisco - where the rain brings out a funereal procession of black umbrellas. Rome's streets looked like someone had shredded a rainbow and sent its pieces chaotically winding their way through them. Orange, taxicab yellow, red, mauve, blue, lemon green, olive green etc etc - an umbrella of a different colour swirled into sight every other second and then streaked away - running after that over-loaded public bus that was probably the only way its owner had of getting home that night. There were some patterned, multi-coloured umbrellas but too few to distract from the luminous tableau created by the single-toned ones. Such a simple way to brighten up a bad weather day. Its a wonder other cities haven't thought of it!

All jazzed up by the unexpected Technicolour high, I snapped a lot of blurred umbrella pictures with my phone and went back to the hotel - happy to have seen a Roman sight that I hadn't planned on or read about in the guide books.