Our Saint Yeldho Mar Baselios

Maphriyono Mar Baselios Yeldo was born at Karakosh near Mosul in Iraq, where Marthsmooni and her 7 children suffered Martyrdom. He became a monk in Mar Bahnan monastery in Mosul. The saint came to India via Basra to Surat, after consecration as Maphrian (Catholicos / Maphriyono) by the Patriarch Mar Ignatius Abdul Messiah I, arriving at Thalassery in North Kerala, then by hill route to Kothamangalam in AD 1685 at the request of Marthoma II of Malankara Church. He reached Marthoma Cheriapalli with Mar Ivanios, guided by a Hindu gentleman whose descendants guide the procession of the festival held in his memory every year. The saint expired on October the second and is entombed in the sanctuary of MarThoman CheriaPally, Kothamangalam.
YELDHO MAR BASELIOS & HIS MISSION
Though St.Gregorios Abdul'Galeel Bava had succeeded in reorganizing the Syrian Christians and reaffirming them in the true faith of the Holy Church; it was very difficult to manage the church under the excessive pressures and influences of the Portuguese elements. Syrian Christians were slowly drifting from their ancestral precepts and ethos. So he sent a fervent appeal to his supreme head, His Holiness the Patriarch of Antioch, for the immediate assistance of a Metropolitan and also ‘Malpans’ (teachers of theology) with an aim to educate the faithful. A delegation was later deputed to the Patriarchate at Mardin (Turkey) with the same purpose. During the consecration of the ‘Holy Mooron’ (Holy Chrism) at the Kurkuma Dayro (Deir-al saffron) in 1684, Patriarch Moran Mar Ignatius Abdul Messiah I painfully discussed the matter with the Maphriyono Mar Baselios Yeldho and other prelates assembled there. ('Maphriyono' is another canonical title of the 'Catholicos of the East' that functions within the Patriarchate of Antioch).
On knowing the grave situation in Malankara, Maphriyono Mar Baselios Yeldho, who was above 90 years of age then, a native of Bakudaida (Kooded or koodeth) Karakosh, near Mosul, gladly volunteered for the service, relinquishing his administrative charge there. His self-sacrificing decision was praised by all. The Patriarch, concerned about the Maphriyono’s age and health, was worried at the decision, but finally His Holiness accepted the offer of Mar Baselios Bava and blessed him.
On returning to the Maphriyanate, at the Mar Mathai Dayro in Mosul (Iraq), the saint made preparations for the treacherous journey to India. He installed Metropolitan Mar Diascorous of Mosul who belonged to Kurd Island as Maphriyono (Catholicos) Mar Baselios Geevarghese II and started the long journey to a region, totally unknown to him. He was accompanied by his brother Jamma, the newly consecrated Episcopa Mar Ivanios Hidayatulla (son of Samma of Bakudaidand) and two Ramban's (monks) namely, Joea and Mathai of the monasteries of 'Mar Mathai' and 'Mar Behnan'. The group travelled down to south from Mosul and boarded ship at Basra in Iraq, thus commencing the first phase of the mission.
Mar Baselios Yeldho and his entourage reached Surat in Gujarat (North India) by the middle of 1685 and from there proceeded to the Malabar coast. Sometime later, they landed at Thalassery port in North Malabar. [As per the letter of MarThoma IV to the Patriarch dated 25th Elool (Sept) 1720, those who reached Malabar, were Mar Baselios Yeldho, Mar Ivanios, and 'Ramban Mathai' (there exists no further information about this Ramban)]. In order to avoid attacks from pirates along the seacoast and to escape from the Portuguese, they traversed due east to Tamil Nadu and proceeded down to southern Kerala on foot. The journey was in disguise through thick forests. After some weeks they reached a small village on the bank of a river at sunset. On the way they encountered a ferocious tiger. Mar Yeldho’s escorts were scared to death but the Saint calmly took out the 'Sleeba' (Cross) and made the sign of the cross in the direction of the animal which ran away roaring into the forests as if struck by a heavy object.
Later they reached the place which is now known as 'Pallivasal' near Munnar. There were many huts in the foothills for the travelers. Mar Yeldho had a feeling that it would be dangerous to stay in those inns since he expected heavy rains and floods that night. So Mar Yeldho advised his companions and the people remaining in the place that it would be better to sleep on the upper reaches of the surrounding hills. Some people who believed him moved higher up the hill but others dismissed the idea lightly and stayed on the inns. During the night there was a very heavy downpour and in the instantaneous flood many people and animals living on the river banks lost their lives. In the mourning the saint offered the Holy Qurbana (Eucharist), for the dead and the mercy shown on those with him, on a temporary altar made there. From that time the place assumed the name ‘PALLIVASAL’ (place of Holy church). The site where he offered the Holy Qurbana is said to be considered sacred by the tribes of the hills.
From there the Holy Father accompanied by the Episcopa Ivanios came to Kozhippilli village near Kothamangalam by afternoon. When they came to know that they had reached populated areas,Mar Yeldho decided that it was unwise for both to travel together any further. He therefore asked the Episcopa to climb a tree and hide himself while the Saint proceeded on foot for reconnaissance. When the holy father reached the banks of Kothamangalam river at Chakkalakudy he saw a Nair (Hindu) gentleman who was tending cattle there. Through symbols they communicated and the man told Mar Yeldho that there was a Church nearby.
Mar Yeldho asked him to accompany him to the church. The man expressed his inability to do so since he could not abandon the cattle. The Saintly Mar Yeldho took his walking stick and drew a big circle on the ground. Then he asked the man to take all the cattle into that circle. He waited for some more time to see how the cattle behaved and he found that they were not leaving the boundary of the circle. He realized that Mar Baselios Yeldho was a man of God. The man's sister was at that time in labor pains. He told the Mar Yeldho about the difficult situation. When the Saint asked for some water with a view to bless it, the man thought that he was asking for water to quench thirst, and he tried to climb a coconut tree nearby. The tree began to bend! The man took two tender coconuts from the tree and gave them to the Saint. The Saint blessed one of the tender coconuts and asked the man to rush home, and make his sister drink the juice. While Mar Yeldho waited at the same spot, after about one hour the man returned with the good news that his sister had given birth to a boy. Greater surprise was in store for him, since the cattle had not moved out of the circle. The man gladly accompanied the Saint to the church. While they got into the river to cross it, some children who were swimming in the river tried to throw pebbles at the Saint. Somehow instead of throwing pebbles they ended up following the Saint and his companion.
HOLY FATHER IN THE MARTHOMAN CHURCH
As the saint reached the church premises, the church bells began to toll. People living in the neighborhood rushed to the church to find out what the commotion was about. And that was on 'Kanni 11th' in the Malayalam calendar (end of September), AD 1685. The Saint entered the church and sat on the steps of the 'Madbaha'. There was a young deacon who was fluent in Syriac. When he realized that an Episcopa had stayed behind at Kozhipally, he and some members of the congregation set out for the place. They took a kerchief from the Saint for identification. When the Episcopa saw the approaching crowd he was afraid. He thought that they had killed Mar Yeldho and were now about to get at him. He therefore refused to come down from the tree. The deacon however offered him the sign of peace and spoke Syriac. He then came down from the tree and went with the people to the church.
On Kanni 13, the church used to celebrate its foundation day. On the 12th evening the Vicar sought the Saint's permission to hoist the flag. The Saint replied that the festival of the Holy Cross should be celebrated on the 14th and not on the 13th. When it was explained to the Saint that what they were celebrating was not the festival of the Holy Cross but the anniversary of the founding of the parish, the Saint permitted them to go ahead but reminded them about the importance of the festival of the Holy Cross.
On the next day, on the feast of the Holy Cross, (Kanni 14 in the Malayalam calendar), Episcopa Hidayatulla Mar Ivanios was consecrated as Metropolitan after the Holy Qurbana by the saintly Mar Baselios Yeldho. (Mor Ivanios, who was consecrated by Mor Yeldho, carried on apostolic work for eight years. He passed away in 1693 and was buried at the MarThoman Church, Mulunthuruthy). Because of the tedious journey and the old age, by then Mar Yeldho was totally exhausted. Three days after he became seriously ill. On 30th September (Kanni 17) he received the last sacraments of anointment with oil and extreme unction. All the while he was lying inside the church. Two days after (on Kanni 19, probably October 2) on Saturday in the afternoon, the saintly father left his mortal self for his heavenly home at the age of 92. As he was sinking, the congregation assembled inside the church, and was offering prayers. The Saint told them that he was about to die and when his spirit leaves his body; there would be a sign on the Cross situated on the western side of the Church. And the huge granite Cross miraculously lit up at the time of the Saint's demise. The Holy Father's mortal remains were entombed on the next day (Kanni 20) in the western side of the Madbaha of the church. The two weeks of sojourn of the Maphriyono at Kothamangalam electrified the Syrian Christians all over Malankara and the mission undertaken by the saint was fulfilled to a large extent by his faithful associate, Metropolitan Mor Hidayatulla Ivanios.
ANNUAL FEASTS OF THE HOLY FATHER ('KANNI 20 PERUNNAL')
Dhukrono of the saint is celebrated in the MarThoman Church (CheriaPalli) at Kothamangalam with spiritual grandeur every year on October 2 and 3 and is popularly known as "Kanni 20 Perunnal". Groups of pilgrims, irrespective of caste and creed come to the church every day seeking his intercession. And multitudes of devotee’s participate in the feast. Moreover, on all Saturdays, Holy Qurbana on three altars is offered in the church with special prayers beseeching the saint’s intercession. Through the years, the MarThoman Church at Kothamangalam, where the Saint is entombed has become a symbol of communal harmony. In remembrance to the instance of guiding Mar Yeldho to this church by a Nair (Hindu) Youth, his successors are still given the privilege to hold the traditional lamp of the church and lead the 'Rassa' (Church procession) to the church on the festival day of the saint.
Many Children are baptized as ‘Yeldho’ and ‘Basil’, bearing the name of our saintly holy father, Mar Baselios Yeldho. Number of children baptized in the church where Mar Yeldho’s mortal remains are interred, on a single day, had even exceeded 50. Mass baptisms are very common in this Church, particularly on Saturdays, the day of demise of the Holy Father. The name 'Yeldho' (meaning, Birth of Christ), has became a very common among Syrian Christians, more particularly in Malankara.

The thought of writing something about tigers to show my solidarity on the preservation of this great gift of nature has been haunting me for some time, and the deliberation of doing it now than later is the origin of this blog. In the early 18th century, tigers were spread in the vast stretch of land from Turkey to China, and now there are only less than 5000 tigers that are existing in the whole world. Among these the majority of them are found in the south west Asian countries including India, Indonesia, Sumatra and Bali. Tigers are the biggest among the species of cats and they are being sought after for various purposes. The whole bodies of the tiger, from the skin to the claws are in great demand in the International market. The bones of the tigers are used to manufacture many different kinds of medicines in China. The teeth of tiger are a very expensive jewelry in India.
The beauty of this creature and the necessity of maintaining them in the natural ecosystem should be understood by the inhabitants of earth. In the early days, tigers were hunted as a matter of prestige among hunters. Later when there was rapid deforestation and clearing of forest lands for agriculture and inhabitation, tigers were an enemy to human beings which was a reason to destroy them. In the present world, they are destroyed mainly for the reason of monetary benefits. Tigers have their peculiar behavioral patterns and the survival if a baby tiger is too difficult, which made their numbers very low in the present day.



As the earth day passes by, and the numbers of these beautiful big cats are dwindling on a tremendous phase, it is not only the government who has to take responsibility of preserving these animals. So let us all hold hands together to preserve these wonderful creatures in this world, whereby the future generations of ours can also see the beauty of this wonderful animal.

Vishu is here.

The pain of a poet to bring out his thought process into words and sentences is too excruciating according to what I have read from great writers. This pain has even been compared to a mother's pain while giving birth to a baby. The mother's hurting is taken off now a days with the rapid advancements of medicine and anesthesia, and so the pain which is mentioned here may not be experienced by many of them, who are in the present era of nanotechnology and cloning.
In my case, it was not such an excruciating pain, but a cloud or uncertainty or dismay that was making my decision making process ambiguous. There were various subjects that rushed through my mind when the idea of filling this month's page stirred, and skimming through them, I ended up choosing Vishu as my topic of this month because this festival has cherished a handful of sweet recollections for me.
When I hear about Vishu, I go back to my childhood days in Thalassery where Vishu is celebrated in the same passion as Onam, which is the national festival of Kerala. Our neighbors, who were all followers of Hinduism except one family who was Muslim, and ours, both of whom celebrated Vishu with full spirits and enthusiasm as Hindus. Even if my family and Mammooka's family were from different religions, we were all part of this celebration because there was no religious rifts between any of us, something part of the pillars on which the whole country is built- Secularism. The first signs of Vishu during our school days were the shops which open in this season exclusively to sell crackers and colorful fireworks which illuminates the sky on the previous night of Vishu and the dawn of Vishu when everybody wakes up for Vishukkani. Every year there may be some new variants of these crackers and fireworks, it may be a new color or it may be one which makes some different noise. They were all big topics of discussion in our class, and so we use to keep updated on the topic, so that we won't be left outdated during those serious discussions.
On the night before Vishu, we use to assemble on the terrace of our house which gives us a spectacular view of the fire bands from all our neighboring houses. This continues till midnight, when everybody goes to bed diligently to wake in the dawn to see the Vishukkani. The Vishukkani is being believed as the first sight for your eye in the New Year on which the whole year ahead relies. Vishu is considered as the astrological New Year day of Kerala even though the first day of the Malayalam calendar is in Chingam. Most of us who does not have this tradition will also be waking up by hearing the thunderous noise of those new crackers which will be around 0400. The noise from the crackers goes on till 0530, when everybody goes to sleep again.
The morning will be awakened by kids and teenagers from our neighborhood knocking on the doors for Vishukaineetam which will be a contribution of money by elders to the youngsters in the family. Even though we don't have any true families around Thalassery, our neighbors were considered as our extended family, and so there won't be any shortage for kids. After the kaineettam kids stop is flocking in, we may have invitations from the neighbors to have lunch in their house. If we cannot make it up there for the lunch, the special payasam will reach our home, which will be in different varieties from each house. I will also be waiting to see all the neighbors who will be dressed in their new costumes which are called Vishukkodi. The evenings will be a bit dull, but this will be the time to reminisce about the previous two days and then start to long for the next Vishu to come.
After being out of Kerala for the past 15 years, I have not got a chance to experience the scent of Vishu. But the thought about those good old days fills my mind on these days. I don't have any idea when I will be able to experience the real taste of Vishu again, and even if I get a chance, I am not sure whether it will be of the same flavor because a lot of people with good heart who resided nearby have already left to heavenly abode. Can we have a Vishu over there in heaven sometime, where we all can meet again???????????

Natural disasters…. Am I exempt??????

The news of the massive destruction in Chile happened not too long before the world has witnessed the shock of the massive destruction from the earthquakes in Haiti. The death toll in Haiti has risen up to 3, 00,000 when the rates in Chile has topped to 400 now, and the numbers are increasing on a steady basis. There are many small natural disasters occurring at the same time as the landslides in Uganda where more than 100 people have lost their life. There may be others where the numbers are less than a 100 or less than 50 which go unnoticed. We are getting on to a time where the main pages of the news reels are filled with disasters that are caused due to natural reasons or the human involvement that has created an imbalance in the nature.









When I talk to some of the elders now a days, they tell me that they don’t listen to the news or read the newspapers. The reason which they told is genuine. The newspapers today carry news of all the cheating that one does to the other, between countries, between families, between partners, and even between brothers and sisters. The other main news are the destruction of mankind due to suicide, dangerous accidents, or natural disasters. There is nothing in the news that brings in happiness. Once upon a time, the stock market news used to bring happiness in some families that has invested their savings wisely, but they are also in the same route as the other news for more than a year now in this country.
The true fact is that there are no restrictions for a catastrophe to happen in this world. These disasters are not limited to any country or region based on race, color, creed, religion or political affiliation. They do not have any time intervals. We are all succumbed to be the victims of these disasters today or tomorrow. Each of us should accept the fact that there is nobody exempt from these tragic episodes on this earth.












The people who had lost their existence in these incidents also had dreams in their life, huge list of things to be completed soon, and limited time to help their fellows, or to listen to other’s sorrows, because of the hastiness in their life. But they all have been sucked into the massive graves of this earth, and they do not want to be worried or tensed by thinking of their incomplete assignments or unaccomplished dreams anymore now.
These are the timings to show our solidarity to our brothers and sisters in unknown places of the world. Let us all hold hands together to help those victims who are suffering, and show our universal fraternity of brotherhood, without thinking of the inequalities that has exited till the yesterday.

Your Composition Never Dies.

This blog is in regard to one of the most renowned music directors in South Indian film industry, specifically Malayalam film industry by name Girish Puthenchery. Each decade has seen one or two prominent song composers in Kerala and during the last decade, it was Mr. Puthenchery. His songs were the ones which I adored in the past 10-15 years, and these songs have lived through the past decade, and they are precious for me through my whole life. I am not a very knowledgeable person about songs, or their composition or their music, but I always preferred to hear Malayalam songs when compared to all the other languages. I have been out of Kerala for more than 12 years, but compared to all other music, the songs from Tamil and Malayalam are the ones which soothe me in addition to the ghazals from Jagjit Singh.
Girish Puthenchery was a very talented composer. His songs were well accepted by the common people, because of the layman language he used in his songs. They had a scent of love and affection, despair, satire and revenge. Two of the songs which will always stick in my thoughts are “Surya Kireedam” from the movie Devasuram and “Nilavinte Neelabhasma Kuriyanjiavale” from Agnidevan. They are composed in simple language and the music is not complicated, but the human instincts these songs reflected, made Keralites clutch these songs in their heart. The songs from Meesa Madhavan were also examples for his brilliant composition, and the one which I love most among them is “Karimani Kuruviye Kandeela”.
There are many other songs that originated from him in the last decade which I love to hear again and again, but I cannot list them all because he has composed more than 2500 songs in his life time. There was a time where the quality of his composition was deteriorating, and it ignited reactions from music lovers of all age groups, which helped him to be cautious with the quality of his songs.
There may be many new composers who will be taking over his assignments, but to create the simplicity and the warmth which Puthenchery has been able to nurture through his compositions may not be sensed in those new songs. Puthenchery’s familiarity on Sanskrit language and his in-depth knowledge about Indian philosophy and world classics, which he acquired through his wide reading, helped him to reflect human instinct in his works. The state government honored him with the award for the best music composer seven times in his life time, which is a great achievement within forty eight years of his life span. The real fruits of his talents may be yet to come out, but unfortunately we don’t have the chance to hear his composition anymore. Malayalam music will feel the vacuum of the brilliant compositions from Puthencherry, which we perceived when Vayalar and Devarajan departed us.
His songs will last till the world ends. May his soul Rest In Peace……………….

Bombay for All.............

The stimulation for writing this blog was the recent debate about Bombay only for people from Maharashtra. As an Indian citizen who has lived for a short time in Bombay, I think I have a right to express my view on this issue. This was the town where my dreams started to grew wings with muscles that were able to help me to fly even though the dreams to fly and the wings were there for long time. I could get a chance to fly to England and from where I reached Texas, where I reside now.
I lived in a town called Vikhroli which is near to Thane and Lower Parel which is between Church Gate and Dadar. I enjoyed my life in Bombay because it was a great lesson for a youngster. The experience of getting into the Metro Rail was one of the most exciting during those days. The old dock road as well as the buildings in V.T gave Bombay a Victorian look, and the new architectural developments gave this town an international look. I had a chance to go and see places from Hiranandani Towers to Bandstand Promenade in Bandra, and the high profile shopping centers in Colaba. I did also visit Dhobi ghat and the hospital for communicable diseases in Sri lakshmi as well as the streets of Kamathipura, where unfortunate and innocent girls from all parts of the country have been trapped by the illicit vampires of the country who can trade on human bodies. There are eateries specialized in different tastes prepared by people from different states of the country. People who belong to different religions stay side by side, and share common arenas and a sense of Indian, than the sense of caste, creed or religion holds them together. This was the place where I got a chance to experience the national tastes of India from the north, south as well as central. The eunuchs, also known as Hijadas were also a rare breed of human species which I could come across in this city.

Even if the name of the town has been changed to Mumbai, I still like to call it Bombay because that was the name which I use from my childhood days. Every evening in Bombay, the streets will be colorful with some kind of festivals, and the people of Maharashtra are famous for their festivals. Because of the multicultural elements of the town, there will be some kind of processions or celebrations every day and whenever I get a chance, I use to watch it and partake in it. This was also the town where I experienced the taste of Thaadi Maadi, a local drink made from palm trees which uplifts your spirits as well as quenches your thirst.
I have not seen any difference between Marathis, Tamilians or Biharis in this town. I use to get my shoe polished from a Bihari, the milk for the morning tea was brought by a Maratha, the auto driver of ours was from Bengal, the priest at the local Catholic church was from Manipur, the hotel where I ate my lunch, they were from Assam, the evening bada pav were made from people from Karnataka, and the grocery store was owned by a Guajarati. So it is not Marathas that run Bombay. I use to enjoy the Kerala food at the hotels in Mahim, and the non vegetarian dishes made by the Muslim vendors in Bandra and Dadar.
We, the citizens of this country should always uphold our principles to maintain harmony than injecting religious or cultural hatred in this town. We have experienced the after effects of religious hatred in Bombay not too long ago. The after effects of such violence will create deep incisions in the minds of people, which will disturb the normal chemistry of the citizens. It will create a huge blow on the national economy, as this city is considered as the financial hotspot of the country, and the wounds will stay unhealed for generations.
So let us all hold hands together and let the proud citizens of Bombay live in peace, harmony and universal brotherhood, where people from all parts of the world can come, enjoy, and achieve their dreams.

This is not only the story of Maxcity......

This was a blog that was read by me last week and thought that there is a very strong message to convey, and so am citing it for the readers to skim through when they get a chance,
Thank you


The BraveHearts of MaxCity
Pritish Nandy,
25 January 2010, 03:23 PM IST

The toughest thing to learn is The Art of Losing. There are no self help books on the subject. No educational institutions teach it. Not many parents are keen to pass on this knowledge to their kids today. Nor are too many kids eager to learn it because they are born with the DNA which tells them losing is a humiliating experience, nothing is gained from it. So when people lose (and, as we all know, many more people lose every day than win) they have no idea how to cope with it. I know because, like most people in this world, I am fortunate to have lost more often than won. And I am lucky I have lived to tell the tale.

Many don’t. Mumbai makes it difficult to survive failure for the city’s programmed entirely around The Art of Winning. The moment you lose, life is over; or so you think. Yet the truth is actually otherwise. MaxCity is home to the world’s largest population of losers. That’s what makes it so special. For every winner I know out here, there are thousands of losers lurking in the shadows. They believe that only success defines them, defeat is a terrible shame. So they spend the best years of their life hiding in the city's dark, desperate bylanes hoping to emerge one day as winners. Most of them never do. And, as we have seen in recent weeks, some self destruct.

When that self destruct is just plain suicide, we commiserate, move on. But when that suicide threatens the rest of us, as when a suicide bomber blows himself up and kills many others, that’s when we start worrying. Yet we don't do the most obvious thing, which is teach young people (as we were once taught) The Art of Losing. Yes, it may surprise you but we were taught how to be good losers. Teachers and parents in our time were wise enough to know that losing is far more commonplace than winning and taught us how to cope with it. It was drummed into us that it’s far more important to be a good loser than a good winner. Any ass can come first in class or win a match but only a good loser can rise above his failure, try again. Today no one teaches The Art of Losing and therefore everyone’s a bad loser. What’s worse, everyone learns The Art of Winning and yet most people are awful winners as well.

You lose your girl friend, you paste dirty pictures of her on Facebook. You lose a match and the first thing you do is abuse the umpire. You fail in school, you jump off the Vashi bridge. Your business fails, as most real businesses are prone to, you lie down on a railway track. Your marriage is in trouble, you hit the bottle. Retribution, abuse, suicide, these are but some of the stupid ways in which we try to deal with failure. We have lost the ability to master it.

Yet MaxCity is the world’s best teacher. Talk to the tea boy in Mehboob Studio. He’s no longer a boy. He’s 57 years old but is still hanging around waiting for that singing break he had come to Mumbai for 40 years ago. Talk to the models in tiny dorms in Andheri, sharing their beds in 8 hour shifts, looking for work. They are brimming with hopes and dreams even when their lives are full of failure and disappointment. But they soldier on bravely, like the bar girls from Bengal who are still waiting for their clients to get them the film roles they had promised years ago. Their jobs are outlawed. The police harass them. Landlords throw them out when they hear of what they do, neighbours call them filthy names. But they don’t give up. Their dreams, ambitions, hopes keep them going, fearlessly.

They are true BraveHearts. They lose every day and yet return to battle next morning. The auto driver from Saharanpur. The zari worker from Birbhum. The daily wage construction labourer from Salem who builds skyscrapers without wearing a harness. The farmer from Vidharba desperately seeking a job, any job. The college student from Meerut. The banker, the stock broker, the white collar executive, the reality show contestant, the writer, the painter, the dancer: Everyone is desperate to make good. Very few do but their success stories fire the imagination of many others who come in, buying into The Great Mumbai Dream, and are never able to step off the treadmill of hope.

There’s courage, grit, dignity in the way they go about their life, trying to bravely make it work. They refuse to shake hands with failure. They do not know what defeat is. They hang in there, day after day, clinging to faith, ambition, self esteem. They pray at Siddhivinayak, Haji Ali, Mount Mary too. MaxCity has taken away everything from them but it can't take away their dignity. The dignity of the loser who refuses to believe he has lost.