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Sunday, August 5, 2012
Wednesday, April 11, 2012
Netrani
I stood in the boat, sullen and anxious, while the instructor helped me into the SCUBA Gear. Sullen, because I was seasick, and anxious because I had never as much as dived in a swimming pool. But I had chosen to come for the SCUBA Diving experience at Netrani Islands near Murudeshwar, and that involved diving very much into the Sea.
I have a little problem - I cannot say 'I am scared'. Whatever it is, I have to give it a try. So when Kartik, KG and Prarabdh asked me if I would like to come to Netrani, I had to say yes. Now they were all already in the sea water, splashing around like the three happiest kids on earth, while I readied myself for the impending disaster. It was hot, I was hungry, the lifejacket was too tight, the fins were making everything so awkward, and the mouthpiece - oh I hated the mouthpiece! How many people had put it in their mouth anyways? And of course, the oxygen cylinder was heavy, and they had put extra weight beneath the life jacket. I didn't really belong in the air with all that gear. Sooner or later, I had to jump in. So when the instructor told me to jump in, I jumped in. Not exactly though - first I swallowed, then I swallowed again, only to realise that I had nothing more left in my mouth ; then I gave in and jumped.
I felt pain in my ears, which was to be expected and which was why I was supposed to equalise. Equalising required me to balance the pressures in my lungs and sinus with the water pressure outside. We fail to realise how easy our lives are because we breathe the same air that surrounds us on earth. To achieve the same balance underwater you have to breathe in through the mouthpiece and try to release the air through your ears. And you have to keep breathing in all the time. Sounds simple, IS simple, only - I was scared. I looked around for the three happy kids, who were the only people I knew in the vast entirety of the Arabian Sea, and I couldn't see any of them at that moment. Though I hated them for putting me in the situation, I knew I would feel safer with them around. But the one I had around me was my instructor, who, I must say, was a very good swimmer (despite his heavy set figure and a huge round belly). And at that time, he was telling me, i.e. gesturing to me to equalise. I sighed, then realising that sighing underwater was not a good idea, I swallowed. Luckily, that worked.
Slowly, we started going deeper and also started looking around. Once I got used to the feeling of being underwater, I realised that the Sea was not a bad place to be. The fish live an uneventfully peaceful life, with nothing to worry them apart from the bigger fish. They keep moving around in the water looking for food, dancing all the while with beautiful graceful movements. Looking at them makes you feel almost jealous of them, you being human and having to struggle so much for a living.
After some time, the instructor started showing me the plants and the fungi. And I hated them! Well, in reality I was scared of them and that's why I hated them. OK, I am not scared of EVERYTHING, believe me - but I am mortally afraid of moving things like earthworms, leaches and centipedes, which have a trecherously soft hairless body and fine attachments that move. And all those fungi and corals looked just like that - soft with fine hair like attachments.So I held myself close, scared of touching or brushing against any of the rocks, and allowed the instructor to navigate through them.
But when the instructor lifted a Sea Cucumber and almost shoved it into my hands, I gasped, backed away, and the mouthpice fell out of my mouth! With great difficulty, the poor guy calmed me, helped me put in the mouthpiece again, and led me out of the hellhole. After that, he gathered it from me, through signs and gestures, that I wasn't interested in any of the plant life. I was bored of the fish and scared of the plants and more than anything else, I just wanted to go back to the boat. He told me, through gestures, to relax and told me that we were at 7 metres depth in the Sea. Didn't I want to go deeper?
Of course I wanted to go deeper! The maximum allowed was 12 metres, and I was sure all the three happy kids were already there. I had to reach 10 metres at least! Resigned, I allowed the instructor to hold me and carry me deeper into the sea. This time, he knew fully well what I didn't want. So he took me to the beautifullest place he could find underwater. It had no plants and very little fishes - it was completely barren.
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| Ready to start for the Island |
 | ||
| The Happy Kid - Prarabh Awasthi The water was cool, so one problem was solved. And the weight was gone too. I was just about to feel happy about my situation when the instructor told me to wear the goggles and start breathing using the mouthpiece. Swallow, again. But then the three happy kids started egging me on (or that's what they thought they were doing), so I put the abominable mouthpiece into my mouse, and I swallowed, again.
Well, this time, the swallowing was protocol. That was how I was supposed to breathe. And that felt easy enough, until the instructor told me to do that underwater. Underwater - well, that was what we were there for. Reluctantly, I reminded him, I cannot swim. It's OK, he said, he is there for me. I wanted to say that I didn't trust him, but instead, I swallowed and thrust my head underwater.
We practised breathing under water for some time, then he deflated my life jacket a bit and we descended downward.
Suddenly, I felt a lot of things changing around me. The first change was the silence. No, not the deathly awkward silence, but a lively, comfortable silence that simply belonged there. The second thing was the colours. Suddenly, everything around had become a beautiful shade of blue, the most beautiful blue I had seen. And this beautiful blue of the Sea was teeming with a lot of even more colourful life forms. It was almost as if we had developed the ability of seeing more colours underwater. And the third was distance. All distances seemed magnified underwater. Refractive Index, I mused. I could go to any extent to feel comfortable there you see, and the concept of refractive indices seemed familiar and comforting for some reason - which brings me to the fourth change I had felt. I felt uncomfortable, very uncomfortable.
|
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| The Marine Scenery |
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| The instructor helping me equalise |
After some time, the instructor started showing me the plants and the fungi. And I hated them! Well, in reality I was scared of them and that's why I hated them. OK, I am not scared of EVERYTHING, believe me - but I am mortally afraid of moving things like earthworms, leaches and centipedes, which have a trecherously soft hairless body and fine attachments that move. And all those fungi and corals looked just like that - soft with fine hair like attachments.So I held myself close, scared of touching or brushing against any of the rocks, and allowed the instructor to navigate through them.
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| The fish surrounded by the something (You have to admit, the surroundings are scary!) |
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| A fish surrounded by mushrooms - it was the mushrooms that scared me :| |
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| Me telling the instructor to take me up again, the instructor telling me to relax |
Of course I wanted to go deeper! The maximum allowed was 12 metres, and I was sure all the three happy kids were already there. I had to reach 10 metres at least! Resigned, I allowed the instructor to hold me and carry me deeper into the sea. This time, he knew fully well what I didn't want. So he took me to the beautifullest place he could find underwater. It had no plants and very little fishes - it was completely barren.
But I was completely enchanted. Everything had come to a standstill there, I could sit there in peace and just enjoy the tranquility for ages. The entire sea floor was covered with sea shells of all sorts of shapes and size. It was vast, wide and open - as open as it could be under the water. It looked almost like a playground, and for once, I really wanted to romp and play there! I conveyed my appreciation to the instructor and asked him if he could pick a few shells for me. It was against the rules, but seeing me happy for the first time in the past hour, he obliged.
We could have spent more time there, but my oxygen cylinder was almost empty, and we needed to go back up safely. Slowly, we began ascending. On the way up, we caught up with the happy kids and took a lot of pictures. And then, when all the cylinders were empty, we went back to the water surface. We spent some time just lazing in the sea without all the SCUBA gear. Later, when it was late, we left for Murudeshwar.
I might have complained a lot, but SCUBA diving was a life altering experience for me. I realised that when I woke up the next day morning and was surprised to find myself wishing I was underwater. The peace and feeling of weightlessness haunted me, and breathing with the nose suddenly felt like too much of an effort. While idling at the beach, I felt that the water surface, even at its best during sunrise and sunset times, was nothing compared to what laid beneath. I knew, at that moment, that I would always remember this one hour spent underwater everytime I looked at a waterbody in my life. SCUBA diving, finally, had grown on me.
P.S. There are no photos of the barren landscape, we had given our camera to another team before we went there.
P.P.S. The Entire Underwater Album (courtesy Dreamz Diving)
(Written for a contest http://www.mahindraxuv500.com/)
We could have spent more time there, but my oxygen cylinder was almost empty, and we needed to go back up safely. Slowly, we began ascending. On the way up, we caught up with the happy kids and took a lot of pictures. And then, when all the cylinders were empty, we went back to the water surface. We spent some time just lazing in the sea without all the SCUBA gear. Later, when it was late, we left for Murudeshwar.
I might have complained a lot, but SCUBA diving was a life altering experience for me. I realised that when I woke up the next day morning and was surprised to find myself wishing I was underwater. The peace and feeling of weightlessness haunted me, and breathing with the nose suddenly felt like too much of an effort. While idling at the beach, I felt that the water surface, even at its best during sunrise and sunset times, was nothing compared to what laid beneath. I knew, at that moment, that I would always remember this one hour spent underwater everytime I looked at a waterbody in my life. SCUBA diving, finally, had grown on me.
P.S. There are no photos of the barren landscape, we had given our camera to another team before we went there.
P.P.S. The Entire Underwater Album (courtesy Dreamz Diving)
(Written for a contest http://www.mahindraxuv500.com/)
Tuesday, April 10, 2012
Bisle - Darr ke Aage Jeet Hai!
When the trip started, it promised adventure. By the time we were halfway through it, it became much more.
We had started from Donigal, Karnataka fully loaded with our camping gear and accessories. With our rucksacks stuffed with Maggi Cup Noodles, rice, eggs, bread, sleeping bags, a few tents and the occassional clothes, we had set out for a 2 day long 50 km trek along a railway line. The final destination was Kukke Subramanya.
We brushed our teeth in a little stream, with a few crabs to keep us company. After a while, we had breakfast - bread, jam and peanut butter - by a charming waterfall along the railway line. With a few Kodak moments here and there, the trip was going perfectly as planned - until we were suddenly stopped by a few Government authorities.
The railway line, normally open to the occassional adventurers like us, was closed for that particular day due to some visit by the higher authorities. We tried to request, reason, plead and bribe, but they just won't budge. So there we were, 21 people, stranded in the middle of nowhere and stumped as to where to go and what to do for the remainder of 1 and a half days. Finally, we hitchhiked to the nearest main road, asked the driver of our Traveller to meet us there, and then set out in a general direction. On the move, we decided to go to Bisle.
Bisle is a little village located on the outskirts of a forest known for its population of Tigers and King Cobras. But we didn't know the tigers and the cobras part back then. When we reached the village,it was just 9 o clock, but it was pitch dark - no electricity, no telephone lines, no civilisation. The villagers knew only Kannada, so Kaushik (also known as Kaustubh, Kishore and Kasturba) became our spokesperson. Slowly, with the help of the villagers, we started setting camp.
Our campsite was the ideal Bollywood horror movie set. A dilapidated temple surrounded by broken trees, a huge hall with a high ceiling, broken windows and a thousand cobwebs, and a well with the historical pulley and bucket attachment - together they completed the perfect camp site scenery for us. The villagers allowed us to use an old tap near the temple, sparing us the use of the well. We were too scared of using the trees near the temple as firewood - what if it offends the Gods and awakens the unknown devils who haunt the well? We instead collected some wet branches lying around and a few wooden pieces of the broken windows, and with the kerosene sold to us by the kind vilagers, we started making fire.
We realised why the making of fire was the biggest discovery by mankind, because believe me, making fire, even with a matchbox, is no easy job. But the fire was the only protection we had against cold (yes, like those stone age days), and it was also the only way of cooking food for 20 odd people. So, we persisted. It took us an hour to lit a fire enough for cooking for all of us.
We had fire-cooked Cup Noodles and Maggi, followed by boiled eggs and roasted potatoes. Slowly, the tents were pitched and a few of us took to their sleeping bags. A few preferred to sleep outside, while a few continued to sing songs lying in their sleeping bags, and looking at the stars overhead.
The next morning, we set out for a 6 km long trek into the forest (yes, the one which had tigers and king cobras). Our guide was an agile villager who spoke only Kannada, and our destination was, no kidding, the terrace top of a tiger's cave!
The trek was simple but trecherous, with branches and brambles lying all over the occasionally rocky ground. Midway through the trek, we reached a small stream and filled our water bottles with world's sweetest water. Little did we know that behind the veil of sweet water, the stream had little black squigly secrets (called leaches) hidden all around her. The moment we left, we realised that they had climbed up our feet and made themselves comfortable at all the odd places. We spent the next 20 minutes getting rid of all of them with matchsticks, salt, Deo and Iodex. We also realised that looking at a leach burn in fire is real fun.
Then we proceeded to the next part of the trek. It was more rocky than the previous, and the excitement of climbing the top of the cave had our nerves racing. The last bit of the trek was particularly difficult. We had to climb over a smooth spherical rock with nothing to hold onto except the rock surface. Our guide, with his Paragon slippers, was over the top in a few moments, while we struggled to keep pace in our sport shoes. After some time, all of us were up. And then, the feeling sank in - we are atop a tiger's cave!
We took pictures, made a video, had some water, and then, very soon, it was time to go back. The descent was even more difficult, and the fact that we were tired didn't help a lot. Soon we were near the leach infested stream, and then the campsite loomed closer. We left after another Maggi lunch, and by nightfall, we were back in Bangalore.
Later the trip was named as 'Darr ke aage Jeet hai'. And for days to come, we will tell everybody the story of Anuj and Sandhya, who got married in the temple, and lived in the high ceilinged house. One day, Sandhya committed suicide by jumping into the well. That night, when we reached the campsite, Sandhya had called her love back to relive their romance. And romance it was, a romance with adventure!
(Written for a contest http://www.mahindraxuv500.com/)
We had started from Donigal, Karnataka fully loaded with our camping gear and accessories. With our rucksacks stuffed with Maggi Cup Noodles, rice, eggs, bread, sleeping bags, a few tents and the occassional clothes, we had set out for a 2 day long 50 km trek along a railway line. The final destination was Kukke Subramanya.
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| On the mark, ready, get set, go! |
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| The Track Trek |
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| Waiting while Swapnil tried to bribe the Govt authorities |
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| The Awe-freakin-some Ride to the main road! |
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| Kaushik beside the historical well |
We had fire-cooked Cup Noodles and Maggi, followed by boiled eggs and roasted potatoes. Slowly, the tents were pitched and a few of us took to their sleeping bags. A few preferred to sleep outside, while a few continued to sing songs lying in their sleeping bags, and looking at the stars overhead.
The next morning, we set out for a 6 km long trek into the forest (yes, the one which had tigers and king cobras). Our guide was an agile villager who spoke only Kannada, and our destination was, no kidding, the terrace top of a tiger's cave!
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| The Final Destination! (We will approach it from the left) |
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| The Bisle Forest |
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| The Last Mile |
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| And who thought we would lie down atop that piece of rock! |
Later the trip was named as 'Darr ke aage Jeet hai'. And for days to come, we will tell everybody the story of Anuj and Sandhya, who got married in the temple, and lived in the high ceilinged house. One day, Sandhya committed suicide by jumping into the well. That night, when we reached the campsite, Sandhya had called her love back to relive their romance. And romance it was, a romance with adventure!
(Written for a contest http://www.mahindraxuv500.com/)
Monday, April 2, 2012
The Late Goodbye
He had never seen her so vulnerable before. He couldn't really do anything about it, but that didn't stop him from being concerned. "Are you sure you want to do this?"
"There is no other way." She sounded stern. Her voice betrayed no weakness.
"But you would destroy everything in trying to destroy him. You know that."
"I do, but I cannot take this any more. This needs to end, he needs to be taught a lesson."
"When do you plan to do it?"
"The 21st of December."
He took a few moments to work out the meaning of this new revelation. And then, he realised. "Oh, that's cruel."
For a split second, her lips broke into a tired smile. Then the smile vanished just as it had come.
After a long time, she spoke again. "Its all my fault. How could I be so naive! When I first saw him, he looked so different from the rest that I was worried about him. But then I saw him defend himself, find his way in the world - he stood above all the rest. But above all, he understood me like no one did. He wanted to know everything about me. Right then, I chose my favourite. The strongest, the coolest, the most accomplished."
"The fittest." He added, understanding.
"Yes, the fittest." She said, after a pause."And I helped him get fitter. I gave him everything I could. I invited him to exploit me." Her voice was bitter. "Before I could realise, his hold over me had reached dangerous levels. I tried to retaliate, but he knew me too well. By then, he had mastered the art of squeezing out whatever he wanted of me."
"And not just me," She continued, "He oppressed all of his friends, MY friends to win his way. Some he coerced to his bidding, some he just used for his own fun. Later, he ruined them all alike. The ugly bullying monster!"
When she spoke next, her voice was distant. "Looking back, I realise how my entire reasoning for choosing him was flawed. He was the fittest among them all, but he wasn't fit for me. At least the rest of them loved me - he didn't. He understood me, but understanding doesn't guarantee love."
"If he does understand you as well as you claim, wouldn't he know what he is heading to?"
"Oh he does!" Her voice now sounded angrier that it ever had all this time. "He knows. I have given him so many signals - even the blind and the deaf and the dumb could understand them. I have been moody, I have thrown tantrums, I have rained tears, I have been angry for days at a stretch... He knows. He understands. He just doesn't care. He is too comfortable to change, and somewhere in his mind, there is an utter disbelief for anything that could go wrong, anything that could defeat him. He really believes that he will always have his way. I don't know what's brewing in that cunning mind of his, but unless he could brew up another planet, I do not see what options he has."
She looked away. Her anger, mixed with distress and pain was palpable. Her chest was heaving - she was trying hard to keep herself calm. He moved closer to her. "Can I ask you something?"
Her eyes were closed. And her silence was unnerving. He hesitated, and then, moving closer, asked again in a careful voice. "Earth?"
She was startled. "Yes?"
"Earth," he continued, "Is correcting his mistake now as option?"
She looked into his eyes, anger flashing in hers. But he continued nevertheless, in the same calm, careful tone. "What if he accepts his mistakes and starts correcting them starting today? Would you forgive him, for the rest of them, for the rest of the species?"
She stood silent for a long time. When she spoke next, her voice was soft, and steady. "I do not know. I am broken, Mars. I don't know if the damage is reparable. And I would rather see all the species die than see them rot to death in this world Human has bestowed upon them. However, I will decide when the time comes, if it comes at all. But if you ask me - I do not think Human has it in him to correct this. It requires him to give up all of his pride and come to all of us with a modesty that is impossible for him to feel. No, I feel that we will never reach that dilemma. 21st December, 2012 will be a day to remember, for him and for all of us."
"There is no other way." She sounded stern. Her voice betrayed no weakness.
"But you would destroy everything in trying to destroy him. You know that."
"I do, but I cannot take this any more. This needs to end, he needs to be taught a lesson."
"When do you plan to do it?"
"The 21st of December."
He took a few moments to work out the meaning of this new revelation. And then, he realised. "Oh, that's cruel."
For a split second, her lips broke into a tired smile. Then the smile vanished just as it had come.
After a long time, she spoke again. "Its all my fault. How could I be so naive! When I first saw him, he looked so different from the rest that I was worried about him. But then I saw him defend himself, find his way in the world - he stood above all the rest. But above all, he understood me like no one did. He wanted to know everything about me. Right then, I chose my favourite. The strongest, the coolest, the most accomplished."
"The fittest." He added, understanding.
"Yes, the fittest." She said, after a pause."And I helped him get fitter. I gave him everything I could. I invited him to exploit me." Her voice was bitter. "Before I could realise, his hold over me had reached dangerous levels. I tried to retaliate, but he knew me too well. By then, he had mastered the art of squeezing out whatever he wanted of me."
"And not just me," She continued, "He oppressed all of his friends, MY friends to win his way. Some he coerced to his bidding, some he just used for his own fun. Later, he ruined them all alike. The ugly bullying monster!"
When she spoke next, her voice was distant. "Looking back, I realise how my entire reasoning for choosing him was flawed. He was the fittest among them all, but he wasn't fit for me. At least the rest of them loved me - he didn't. He understood me, but understanding doesn't guarantee love."
"If he does understand you as well as you claim, wouldn't he know what he is heading to?"
"Oh he does!" Her voice now sounded angrier that it ever had all this time. "He knows. I have given him so many signals - even the blind and the deaf and the dumb could understand them. I have been moody, I have thrown tantrums, I have rained tears, I have been angry for days at a stretch... He knows. He understands. He just doesn't care. He is too comfortable to change, and somewhere in his mind, there is an utter disbelief for anything that could go wrong, anything that could defeat him. He really believes that he will always have his way. I don't know what's brewing in that cunning mind of his, but unless he could brew up another planet, I do not see what options he has."
She looked away. Her anger, mixed with distress and pain was palpable. Her chest was heaving - she was trying hard to keep herself calm. He moved closer to her. "Can I ask you something?"
Her eyes were closed. And her silence was unnerving. He hesitated, and then, moving closer, asked again in a careful voice. "Earth?"
She was startled. "Yes?"
"Earth," he continued, "Is correcting his mistake now as option?"
She looked into his eyes, anger flashing in hers. But he continued nevertheless, in the same calm, careful tone. "What if he accepts his mistakes and starts correcting them starting today? Would you forgive him, for the rest of them, for the rest of the species?"
She stood silent for a long time. When she spoke next, her voice was soft, and steady. "I do not know. I am broken, Mars. I don't know if the damage is reparable. And I would rather see all the species die than see them rot to death in this world Human has bestowed upon them. However, I will decide when the time comes, if it comes at all. But if you ask me - I do not think Human has it in him to correct this. It requires him to give up all of his pride and come to all of us with a modesty that is impossible for him to feel. No, I feel that we will never reach that dilemma. 21st December, 2012 will be a day to remember, for him and for all of us."
Saturday, February 25, 2012
The Girl with Messy Black Hair
As I passed by her house everyday,
In the mud and the grass, I would see her play,
In her frilly little frock, that pink little frock,
She was there, the girl with messy black hair.
Sometimes, she was all immersed in her play,
with her dolls and her toys she would talk all day,
happy and content, with her own little friends,
She would be, the girl with messy black hair.
Sometimes she would be like a butterfly,
grinning and waving at every passer-by,
hopping around, flying all over the ground,
In tow, all of her messy black hair.
One day she gave me a shy little smile,
Then lowered her eyes, stole glances for a while,
Then again surfaced, with a lit up face,
Her face, the one with messy black hair.
And then one day, she wasn't there playing around,
Then the next day, and then the whole week round,
She made my day, and now she was away,
unknowing, the girl with messy black hair.
On Saturday, I went there, looking for her,
And I saw her walking back with her mother,
They were chatting together, her hand on the finger,
As I searched, surprised, for her messy black hair.
She now wore a blue frock, pleated and neat,
She had a bag on her shoulders and shoes on her feet,
On her hair was laid, in a neat little braid,
her shock of messy black hair.
In the mud and the grass, I would see her play,
In her frilly little frock, that pink little frock,
She was there, the girl with messy black hair.
Sometimes, she was all immersed in her play,
with her dolls and her toys she would talk all day,
happy and content, with her own little friends,
She would be, the girl with messy black hair.
Sometimes she would be like a butterfly,
grinning and waving at every passer-by,
hopping around, flying all over the ground,
In tow, all of her messy black hair.
One day she gave me a shy little smile,
Then lowered her eyes, stole glances for a while,
Then again surfaced, with a lit up face,
Her face, the one with messy black hair.
And then one day, she wasn't there playing around,
Then the next day, and then the whole week round,
She made my day, and now she was away,
unknowing, the girl with messy black hair.
On Saturday, I went there, looking for her,
And I saw her walking back with her mother,
They were chatting together, her hand on the finger,
As I searched, surprised, for her messy black hair.
She now wore a blue frock, pleated and neat,
She had a bag on her shoulders and shoes on her feet,
On her hair was laid, in a neat little braid,
her shock of messy black hair.
Monday, January 23, 2012
Tim Lak Lak
When you are little, she makes you want to grow up. When you are grown up, she makes you want to be young. When you are in college, she makes you crave for a job. When you end up having one, she makes you lust for the good old college days. When you are a subordinate, she makes you long for being the manager. When you do become one, she makes you pine for the carefree life free of responsibilities. When you are forty, she makes you yearn for retirement. When you retire, she makes you ache for the days of youth when you could make your own decisions.
But you never make your decisions. She does.
For some reason, I have always imagined life to be a female. In my mind, she is a fair-skinned woman with dark unkempt hair, big teeth and too much mascara. She is always laughing, her eyes twinkling gleefully. She is the master puppeteer and she is the audience. And she is never satisfied. When you bend, she makes you stand up. When you stand, she makes you whirl round and round till you are dizzy. Before you have regained your balance, she makes you bang your head to her beats. And when your head starts aching, she still wants you to hiphop with a smile on your face. She loves nothing more than making you dance. Whether you like it or not.
The one who always hated waking up early, reaches the office before his friends wake up. The one who was scared of crowds becomes a regular in the city bus. The one who loved cheese and cakes starts living off salads and fruit juice. The one born and brought up in the fresh village air gets used to the congested city atmosphere. The one who loved her mother the most decides to live in a city 1000 kms away. She made them dance to her tunes, and they did.
They are us. Dancing to the music of life.
Tim Lak Lak te Tim Lak Lak.
But you never make your decisions. She does.
For some reason, I have always imagined life to be a female. In my mind, she is a fair-skinned woman with dark unkempt hair, big teeth and too much mascara. She is always laughing, her eyes twinkling gleefully. She is the master puppeteer and she is the audience. And she is never satisfied. When you bend, she makes you stand up. When you stand, she makes you whirl round and round till you are dizzy. Before you have regained your balance, she makes you bang your head to her beats. And when your head starts aching, she still wants you to hiphop with a smile on your face. She loves nothing more than making you dance. Whether you like it or not.
The one who always hated waking up early, reaches the office before his friends wake up. The one who was scared of crowds becomes a regular in the city bus. The one who loved cheese and cakes starts living off salads and fruit juice. The one born and brought up in the fresh village air gets used to the congested city atmosphere. The one who loved her mother the most decides to live in a city 1000 kms away. She made them dance to her tunes, and they did.
They are us. Dancing to the music of life.
Tim Lak Lak te Tim Lak Lak.
Sunday, October 16, 2011
The Virtues of Getting Married (Only for Women)
All ye unmarried ladies, get married. Hey, don't get me wrong, I know what I am talking about! Am I married? No, but I.. Am I out of my mind? No, not that either. But really, I have thought this our thoroughly before putting it forth. But oh, wait, are you studying? Because then you better scuttle back to your books, this is of no pratical use to you. Are you working? Do you have a boss you hate? Of course you have a boss you hate! Well then, read on. And after that, get married.
The meaning of marriage in my mind is simple. Here's what you do. Find a guy who earns well and assures you that he will be a loving and caring husband. Sign a deal with him which entitles you to at least a third of his salary every month. Then, marry him. Now, your husband is your employer and your boss. Also, your income is not taxable.
Now, enter the green pastures. Wake up with him in the morning, fix him a breakfast and pack him a lunch. Then, when he has left, treat yourself to a lazy breakfast. Then if you wish, go back to sleep. Yes, I know - you can actually do that - sleep while your boss works. Then you wake up when you please, shout a bit at your housemaid and get the real work done. Tidy up the place a bit. Play some nice music and take a luxurious bath. Then cook your favourite lunch and eat in your own sweet time, watching TV. Then you are free to read a book, learn to play the drums, take a walk in the park, or pursue any hobby. Then when the sun sets, you make some nice snack for your beloved and get ready to welcome the tired boss home. Make him comfortable, fix him a long bath or give him a massage. Make his favourite dinner. Pamper him. It shouldn't be so tough, you have had a beautiful day, haven't you?
On weekends, laze away with him. Call his mother - it will take 5 minutes, or maybe 30. While talking to her, remember your lazy afternoon and remember they are worth this. This and a few more aunts.
On some days, you would be bored of cooking. How do you handle that? You raise your voice a teensy bit, and say this - "I've been cooped up in this house ALL THE TIME. I'm so frustrated! I want some change!!" He will say, "Oh dear! I'm so sorry. Lets go out today! Is that okay?" Then you say okay, because you know its too good a deal. Imagine saying all this to a boss elsewhere and pulling it off.
Sounds like a great deal, doesn't it? But if you ask me the best part of it all, it's this - if you think you can't handle any of this, just be good to him in bed. In most of the cases, thats all it would take.
P.S. It doesn't work out with kids. Don't have them.
P.P.S. Don't let your current boss read this. Neither your husband.
P.P.P.S. Sarcasm. Go back to work.
The meaning of marriage in my mind is simple. Here's what you do. Find a guy who earns well and assures you that he will be a loving and caring husband. Sign a deal with him which entitles you to at least a third of his salary every month. Then, marry him. Now, your husband is your employer and your boss. Also, your income is not taxable.
Now, enter the green pastures. Wake up with him in the morning, fix him a breakfast and pack him a lunch. Then, when he has left, treat yourself to a lazy breakfast. Then if you wish, go back to sleep. Yes, I know - you can actually do that - sleep while your boss works. Then you wake up when you please, shout a bit at your housemaid and get the real work done. Tidy up the place a bit. Play some nice music and take a luxurious bath. Then cook your favourite lunch and eat in your own sweet time, watching TV. Then you are free to read a book, learn to play the drums, take a walk in the park, or pursue any hobby. Then when the sun sets, you make some nice snack for your beloved and get ready to welcome the tired boss home. Make him comfortable, fix him a long bath or give him a massage. Make his favourite dinner. Pamper him. It shouldn't be so tough, you have had a beautiful day, haven't you?
On weekends, laze away with him. Call his mother - it will take 5 minutes, or maybe 30. While talking to her, remember your lazy afternoon and remember they are worth this. This and a few more aunts.
On some days, you would be bored of cooking. How do you handle that? You raise your voice a teensy bit, and say this - "I've been cooped up in this house ALL THE TIME. I'm so frustrated! I want some change!!" He will say, "Oh dear! I'm so sorry. Lets go out today! Is that okay?" Then you say okay, because you know its too good a deal. Imagine saying all this to a boss elsewhere and pulling it off.
Sounds like a great deal, doesn't it? But if you ask me the best part of it all, it's this - if you think you can't handle any of this, just be good to him in bed. In most of the cases, thats all it would take.
P.S. It doesn't work out with kids. Don't have them.
P.P.S. Don't let your current boss read this. Neither your husband.
P.P.P.S. Sarcasm. Go back to work.
Saturday, September 17, 2011
Wordly Woes
Rcntly, n infinitly annoyng habt has bcum ncreasngly prevalnt amng yngsters (n evn d eldr ppl spendin 2 mch time on d intrnet). Her Im talkin abt d habt of usin 'sms n intrnet lingo', typcally a modificatn of english in which most f d vwls (read vowels) r redndnt n most f d spellngs dstrted. While d omission f vowels arose coz f celfones n twittr, d spellng distortns containin d same no. f wurds don mak much sense.
And either way, none of them are easy to read, as you would have realised to your exasperation while reading the above paragraph. Yeah, yeah, I know, recent studies have proven that the human brain can decipher any word with letters jumbled. But when you sit down to relish your few minutes of facebooking after a long day, you hope to utilise your mental faculties for something better than decoding the intricate spellings. For example, how on this earth do you hope to be enlightened enough to know that 'ma' should be read as 'my'? For a long time, I thought 'ma' in India means Mommy, until finally wisdom dawned upon me and the codes started making sense. Also, I had made peace with 'ya' meaning yes (It should be 'yeah', people, though its ok, I can live with it.) But when people started using 'ya' at the end of every sentence, I lost it again. Then one fine day, I woke up and realised that 'ya' now stands for 'yaar'. Apparently, thats how Englishmen and Americans would pronounce it. (No, they won't. They would pronounce it as 'man' or 'buddy'. But that's ok too.)
Speaking of pronountiations, I know how 'its' and 'girls' are pronounced in English, but can someone throw light upon the pronountiation of 'gurlz', 'itz', 'iz', 'izz', 'itzzz' etc.? Also, would you explain me the meaning of 'helloz' and 'okies', or the logic behind 'n1'? (Can I start using b1, because most of the ones are not n1?)
Oh, I almost forgot this one - why is 'e' written as '3'? And what am I supposed to make of words written LiKe tHiS? They seem annoying. But are they supposed to be preEttY or fAshIOnAblE?
So here I am, absolutely vexed and totally clueless about this all-pervasive ever-changing database. And all those dear people who made me take the pains to write all this, I know you are too much into this usage to let go of it now. So lets make a pact. You won't call your language English, not even internet English, Short English, or something as cheesy. (Think of English as a patented word.) You call it something else, and we, the language lovers, don't bother you about it. You can also write blogs, books, dictionaries and thesauruses in your language ; we will try to read them if they are worth it. You can also have awards for the best works in your language - The Least Number of Vowels Award, The Most Innovative Short Form Award, etc.
On a closing note, I would like to say just this - The educated, the intellectuals, the productive ones will always use English as it is, because they have read a lot and typing the right words is a part of their psyche. You might think your language is for the busy people. It isn't. if you were that busy, you wouldn't tweet so much as to get addicted to this language. You might think that such usage shows a modern bearing and a 'cool' attitude. It doesn't. Following others randomly without thinking is the opposite of modern. Your language, I believe, is for people who have a misguided notion of cool and a craving for showing off a fake accent. On second thoughts though, perhaps its just for people who have forgotten the classroom English in this endless stream of junk. I no, I hd cn it cumin.
And either way, none of them are easy to read, as you would have realised to your exasperation while reading the above paragraph. Yeah, yeah, I know, recent studies have proven that the human brain can decipher any word with letters jumbled. But when you sit down to relish your few minutes of facebooking after a long day, you hope to utilise your mental faculties for something better than decoding the intricate spellings. For example, how on this earth do you hope to be enlightened enough to know that 'ma' should be read as 'my'? For a long time, I thought 'ma' in India means Mommy, until finally wisdom dawned upon me and the codes started making sense. Also, I had made peace with 'ya' meaning yes (It should be 'yeah', people, though its ok, I can live with it.) But when people started using 'ya' at the end of every sentence, I lost it again. Then one fine day, I woke up and realised that 'ya' now stands for 'yaar'. Apparently, thats how Englishmen and Americans would pronounce it. (No, they won't. They would pronounce it as 'man' or 'buddy'. But that's ok too.)
Speaking of pronountiations, I know how 'its' and 'girls' are pronounced in English, but can someone throw light upon the pronountiation of 'gurlz', 'itz', 'iz', 'izz', 'itzzz' etc.? Also, would you explain me the meaning of 'helloz' and 'okies', or the logic behind 'n1'? (Can I start using b1, because most of the ones are not n1?)
Oh, I almost forgot this one - why is 'e' written as '3'? And what am I supposed to make of words written LiKe tHiS? They seem annoying. But are they supposed to be preEttY or fAshIOnAblE?
So here I am, absolutely vexed and totally clueless about this all-pervasive ever-changing database. And all those dear people who made me take the pains to write all this, I know you are too much into this usage to let go of it now. So lets make a pact. You won't call your language English, not even internet English, Short English, or something as cheesy. (Think of English as a patented word.) You call it something else, and we, the language lovers, don't bother you about it. You can also write blogs, books, dictionaries and thesauruses in your language ; we will try to read them if they are worth it. You can also have awards for the best works in your language - The Least Number of Vowels Award, The Most Innovative Short Form Award, etc.
On a closing note, I would like to say just this - The educated, the intellectuals, the productive ones will always use English as it is, because they have read a lot and typing the right words is a part of their psyche. You might think your language is for the busy people. It isn't. if you were that busy, you wouldn't tweet so much as to get addicted to this language. You might think that such usage shows a modern bearing and a 'cool' attitude. It doesn't. Following others randomly without thinking is the opposite of modern. Your language, I believe, is for people who have a misguided notion of cool and a craving for showing off a fake accent. On second thoughts though, perhaps its just for people who have forgotten the classroom English in this endless stream of junk. I no, I hd cn it cumin.
Sunday, August 21, 2011
Reason
I finished 3 days of relay fasting today morning, and now its time to start the fourth day tomorrow. I didn't want to take a leave from work, so decided to fast alternate days while working. Its not as easy as it sounds, believe me. Spending an entire day, working, travelling, talking to people, going to Freedom Park whenever possible, and trying your best to remain cool, all this while having just water in your system - Its difficult. Doing this over a week every alternate day, its even more difficult.
I didn't feel much the first two days of the fast, but the third day, I could feel a strange kind of a lethargy creeping over me. I grew silent and introvert, my thoughts eating up my hungry self. Today, I have been eating all day, but somehow, my body seems to be recuperating from some illness. My cheeks look sunken, and I look terrible, people say. My body has slowly started persuading me to stop, and her arguments are tempting.
But I don't want to stop. There are some causes for which you should do something, anything. Then, there are some causes for which you must do everything, everything that's possible. This is one of them. If I won't, who will? If not now, when? And if I don't give it my best now, how will I ever live with myself?
As a kid, I grew up listening to the stories of our freedom fighters, listening to how the greed of a few people cost us our freedom and the bravery of a lot many won it back for us. And when I listened to them, I told myself - I won't be selfish, I will be brave, like my freedom fighters. I grew up in the world of Harry Potter and The Lord of the Rings, and I grew up with the assertion that I will be courageous like my heroes, I will be strong, and I will stand up for the Good. If I don't live up to my own words, who will? If I don't become my own hero, who will?
Yes, my body is complaining. Yes, she is tired. But more dreadful than this fatigue is this chilling feeling - What if this crusade doesn't work out? What if there aren't enough people? What if, even after getting this one opportunity, we fail? Will I be forced to live in this corrupt India? Will I have to bear with all the injustice around me, even if it kills my heart to look at it? I would rather live with a tired body for a fortnight, than with a sorry heart for a lifetime. That's my reason.
I didn't feel much the first two days of the fast, but the third day, I could feel a strange kind of a lethargy creeping over me. I grew silent and introvert, my thoughts eating up my hungry self. Today, I have been eating all day, but somehow, my body seems to be recuperating from some illness. My cheeks look sunken, and I look terrible, people say. My body has slowly started persuading me to stop, and her arguments are tempting.
But I don't want to stop. There are some causes for which you should do something, anything. Then, there are some causes for which you must do everything, everything that's possible. This is one of them. If I won't, who will? If not now, when? And if I don't give it my best now, how will I ever live with myself?
As a kid, I grew up listening to the stories of our freedom fighters, listening to how the greed of a few people cost us our freedom and the bravery of a lot many won it back for us. And when I listened to them, I told myself - I won't be selfish, I will be brave, like my freedom fighters. I grew up in the world of Harry Potter and The Lord of the Rings, and I grew up with the assertion that I will be courageous like my heroes, I will be strong, and I will stand up for the Good. If I don't live up to my own words, who will? If I don't become my own hero, who will?
Yes, my body is complaining. Yes, she is tired. But more dreadful than this fatigue is this chilling feeling - What if this crusade doesn't work out? What if there aren't enough people? What if, even after getting this one opportunity, we fail? Will I be forced to live in this corrupt India? Will I have to bear with all the injustice around me, even if it kills my heart to look at it? I would rather live with a tired body for a fortnight, than with a sorry heart for a lifetime. That's my reason.
Friday, August 19, 2011
Why Jan Lokpal
A lot of people I know believe that the entire nation fighting for one bill to be passed against corruption is not justified. There is a widespread belief that a bill cannot root corruption, that corruption is a mindset which every individual has to let go of. That we have to first stop giving bribes ourselves, and then only can the problem of corruption be addressed. I disagree. I agree, on the other hand, with Anna. And I know this is being really imposing, but I want you to understand why I say this so confidently. I will first elucidate why I think this school of thoughts might not work, and then I will tell you why the bill will.
A. Why the individual fight against corruption might not work:
1. These are all Utopian imaginations, and we, unfortunately, live in India. This is the country where people won't throw a plastic in the dustbin voluntarily, even though it doesn't cost them anything. Do you really expect 1.2 billion people to change their attitude, when it will cost them a lot of comfort?
2. You and me want to change, do you know why? Because we are the bribe payers. Give me one reason why the bribe takers will want to change.
3. I know, if nobody in the country gives a bribe, what will the takers do? Thing is, corruption isn't just about the small 100 Rs. bribes circulated among the middle class. The corruption which affects the nation is at a much larger scale, and the people involved needn't be Indians in such cases. Right there, this theory crumples down. (Go to Things You Should Know for an example.)
Why Jan Lokpal:
1. Can I safely assume that the government officials and bereaucrats do not form more than 30% of our population? I will, for now. Now, corruption is a two way process, as you said. Disable one side, and the process stops. Its easier, arithmetically, to control the 30% of the population, the bribe takers, than it is to control the rest 70%, the bribe givers, don't you think?
2. The above-mentioned bribe-takers wouldn't give up corruption voluntarily, ever. They have to be made to do so. Hence we need something that makes them do so - law, punishment, force. Jan Lokpal.
3. No bill can remove 100% corruption. The Jan Lokpal promises around 60% reduction. But the presence of an authority which has prosecuted 60% of the criminals instills a sense of fear, at least in the minds of the officials of lesser stature. That helps induce a non-corrupt mindset. We are a lot more closer to Utopia already!
4. Nothing stops the Jan Lokpal from being corrupt, except that the Jan Lokpal can be prosecuted by another Lokpal. But we will get a chance to elect them again. All we have to do is ensure we don't vote for the one who has been corrupt. Note that this committee will be structurally much simpler than our Parliament. So we will have a much bigger say in their election. Also, a big number of them will be civilians having no ties with politics or bureaucracy. There would be a lesser conflict of interest there.
C. Why you should fight for the Jan Lokpal even if you think all of this was bullshit:
1. These protests have been a nightmare for the government. Next time they will watch their step. And every added protestant will increase their fear. The next Government, whichever it is, will dare not commit the mistake this one did.
2. These protests have made working against corruption a 'cool' thing. India Against Corruption has hammered the message of 'Every Indian Anna Hazare' deep and clean. People will now be more courageous against the day to day bribery. They won't be ashamed of saying No.
D. If you still don't want to fight:
The administration has been callous towards tackling corruption with an iron fist. Every Indian who doesn't fight against this attitude, justifies it. If you don't fight, the Government takes that as a vote of your confidence. Register your dissent, just to assert what you want. Protest, just to remind them, that you are the one they represent, you are the one they should work for, and you are the one who inspires their decisions. Protest, just to tell them that you care, and so, they must, too.
E. If you disagree, still
Do you know of any other way, one that will actually work?
P.S. Obviously, no single bill can end corruption, Jan Lokpal is not a magic wand, and anybody who believes so is seriously mistaken. But at the same time, those who claim that the bill is unfair because it covers only the politicians, are being extremely negative and unrealistic. This bill is a start. This protest is a beginning. And we have a long way to go.
A. Why the individual fight against corruption might not work:
1. These are all Utopian imaginations, and we, unfortunately, live in India. This is the country where people won't throw a plastic in the dustbin voluntarily, even though it doesn't cost them anything. Do you really expect 1.2 billion people to change their attitude, when it will cost them a lot of comfort?
2. You and me want to change, do you know why? Because we are the bribe payers. Give me one reason why the bribe takers will want to change.
3. I know, if nobody in the country gives a bribe, what will the takers do? Thing is, corruption isn't just about the small 100 Rs. bribes circulated among the middle class. The corruption which affects the nation is at a much larger scale, and the people involved needn't be Indians in such cases. Right there, this theory crumples down. (Go to Things You Should Know for an example.)
Why Jan Lokpal:
1. Can I safely assume that the government officials and bereaucrats do not form more than 30% of our population? I will, for now. Now, corruption is a two way process, as you said. Disable one side, and the process stops. Its easier, arithmetically, to control the 30% of the population, the bribe takers, than it is to control the rest 70%, the bribe givers, don't you think?
2. The above-mentioned bribe-takers wouldn't give up corruption voluntarily, ever. They have to be made to do so. Hence we need something that makes them do so - law, punishment, force. Jan Lokpal.
3. No bill can remove 100% corruption. The Jan Lokpal promises around 60% reduction. But the presence of an authority which has prosecuted 60% of the criminals instills a sense of fear, at least in the minds of the officials of lesser stature. That helps induce a non-corrupt mindset. We are a lot more closer to Utopia already!
4. Nothing stops the Jan Lokpal from being corrupt, except that the Jan Lokpal can be prosecuted by another Lokpal. But we will get a chance to elect them again. All we have to do is ensure we don't vote for the one who has been corrupt. Note that this committee will be structurally much simpler than our Parliament. So we will have a much bigger say in their election. Also, a big number of them will be civilians having no ties with politics or bureaucracy. There would be a lesser conflict of interest there.
C. Why you should fight for the Jan Lokpal even if you think all of this was bullshit:
1. These protests have been a nightmare for the government. Next time they will watch their step. And every added protestant will increase their fear. The next Government, whichever it is, will dare not commit the mistake this one did.
2. These protests have made working against corruption a 'cool' thing. India Against Corruption has hammered the message of 'Every Indian Anna Hazare' deep and clean. People will now be more courageous against the day to day bribery. They won't be ashamed of saying No.
D. If you still don't want to fight:
The administration has been callous towards tackling corruption with an iron fist. Every Indian who doesn't fight against this attitude, justifies it. If you don't fight, the Government takes that as a vote of your confidence. Register your dissent, just to assert what you want. Protest, just to remind them, that you are the one they represent, you are the one they should work for, and you are the one who inspires their decisions. Protest, just to tell them that you care, and so, they must, too.
E. If you disagree, still
Do you know of any other way, one that will actually work?
P.S. Obviously, no single bill can end corruption, Jan Lokpal is not a magic wand, and anybody who believes so is seriously mistaken. But at the same time, those who claim that the bill is unfair because it covers only the politicians, are being extremely negative and unrealistic. This bill is a start. This protest is a beginning. And we have a long way to go.
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
Things You Should Know
Many of you think that corruption is not the only thing plaguing our nation. You are right. But there is a good chance you are underestimating what corruption does to us. You know of the small Rs. 100 bribes you pay in your everyday life, or of the 2 lakh crore scams which make it to the headlines. There's more to it, and its hidden. You know the overall picture of these things, but not the grisly details. And they make a lot of difference.
I will explain that with an example. Do you know about Enron and and the Maharashtra State Electricity Board (MSEB)? Sure, you have heard the name. Have you heard this then, that the Government of Maharashtra pays them 1000 crores a year, more than 2.5 crores a day, even today, for nothing in return? Do you want to know why? Read on.
Enron is a US based natural gas company, which in 1993 started India's first private power project. The MSEB (was forced to) pay $30 billion for a 675+2015 MW Power Plant in Maharashtra. The gross profit earned by Enron for the project was a little more than $12 billions. Yes, dollars, in bllions. Adding 2685 MW causes an 18% increase in MSEB's capacity, and 30 billion USD is 70% of MSEB's revenue.
Later, the power that the Enron project produced was 2 times as costly as its nearest competitor, and 7 times as costly as the cheapest electricity available in Maharashtra. So it was decided to better pay Enron the compulsory fixed charges required to maintain and run the plant (as a part of the contract) than actually buy the electricity they produce. The fixed charges work out to be 1000 crore a year for the phase I, i.e. the 675 MW plant, alone. 1000 crores a year for the next 40 years. That could perhaps be the reason why Maharashtra, especially Vidarbha, faces such an acute shortage of electricity. They are paying but not getting any electricity in return.
When the deal's negotiations were in progress, being undertaken by the Congress-led State Government on Maharashtra, the BJP-Shiv Sena Opposition were accusing the Congress of having taken a 700 crore bribe. The Enron itself acknowledged that it had spent millions of dollar in 'educating' the politicians and bureaucrats involved in the deal. The opposition by BJP-Shivsena led to the annuling of the bill. So then, how and why was the bill passed, you ask? Later, the BJP-Shivsena alliance got elected for a government at the Centre, and this Government lasted for 13 days. On their last day, amidst all the last day drama, they re-ratified the national government's counter agreement for the deal. After a couple of months, the BJP-led government in the Maharashtra State signed the deal with the above mentioned terms.
In my hometown in Maharashtra, in summers, we get electricity only 12 hours a day. And the number is decreasing every year. So now, you can extend this information to other situations logically. You know most of them. You have bad roads because dishonest and inefficient construction firms bribe the government for contracts. Perhaps, in some years to come, we will realise what a hoax the Nuclear Deal was. But the American companies won't lose a penny. They have the Civic Liabilities Bill. The politicians who took the bribes would be retired and happy by then. We, the people, and our country will bleed out the expenses.
If you want to read more about this and a few more things, try Arundhati Roy's The Algebra of Infinite Justice. Most of the numbers and statistics are borrowed from there.
I will explain that with an example. Do you know about Enron and and the Maharashtra State Electricity Board (MSEB)? Sure, you have heard the name. Have you heard this then, that the Government of Maharashtra pays them 1000 crores a year, more than 2.5 crores a day, even today, for nothing in return? Do you want to know why? Read on.
Enron is a US based natural gas company, which in 1993 started India's first private power project. The MSEB (was forced to) pay $30 billion for a 675+2015 MW Power Plant in Maharashtra. The gross profit earned by Enron for the project was a little more than $12 billions. Yes, dollars, in bllions. Adding 2685 MW causes an 18% increase in MSEB's capacity, and 30 billion USD is 70% of MSEB's revenue.
Later, the power that the Enron project produced was 2 times as costly as its nearest competitor, and 7 times as costly as the cheapest electricity available in Maharashtra. So it was decided to better pay Enron the compulsory fixed charges required to maintain and run the plant (as a part of the contract) than actually buy the electricity they produce. The fixed charges work out to be 1000 crore a year for the phase I, i.e. the 675 MW plant, alone. 1000 crores a year for the next 40 years. That could perhaps be the reason why Maharashtra, especially Vidarbha, faces such an acute shortage of electricity. They are paying but not getting any electricity in return.
When the deal's negotiations were in progress, being undertaken by the Congress-led State Government on Maharashtra, the BJP-Shiv Sena Opposition were accusing the Congress of having taken a 700 crore bribe. The Enron itself acknowledged that it had spent millions of dollar in 'educating' the politicians and bureaucrats involved in the deal. The opposition by BJP-Shivsena led to the annuling of the bill. So then, how and why was the bill passed, you ask? Later, the BJP-Shivsena alliance got elected for a government at the Centre, and this Government lasted for 13 days. On their last day, amidst all the last day drama, they re-ratified the national government's counter agreement for the deal. After a couple of months, the BJP-led government in the Maharashtra State signed the deal with the above mentioned terms.
In my hometown in Maharashtra, in summers, we get electricity only 12 hours a day. And the number is decreasing every year. So now, you can extend this information to other situations logically. You know most of them. You have bad roads because dishonest and inefficient construction firms bribe the government for contracts. Perhaps, in some years to come, we will realise what a hoax the Nuclear Deal was. But the American companies won't lose a penny. They have the Civic Liabilities Bill. The politicians who took the bribes would be retired and happy by then. We, the people, and our country will bleed out the expenses.
If you want to read more about this and a few more things, try Arundhati Roy's The Algebra of Infinite Justice. Most of the numbers and statistics are borrowed from there.
Dear
Congress,
An old man sent to jail before he committed something you call a crime, over 5000 detained for, well, not eating and fighting against corruption, peaceful mutinies all over the nation that you cannot control without force... Does that ring a bell? Oh wait, I remember! It reminds me of the colonial British Raj! But no, this used to happen when we were not independent, right? But now we are free, right?
BJP,
Stop trying to be on both the ships, so you can decide which one to leave when it sinks. Rats do that. Speaking of rats, I always thought of you as monkeys rather than rats, seeing you have a Vanarsena at your disposal. But perhaps their courage and bravery comes useful only when Muslims are to be killed or partygoers are to be assaulted.
Nitin Gadkari,
Nobody goes to a party uninvited. Thing is, this is not a party, people are actually starving here.
Politicians in general,
Just a question out of curiosity - did you ever, as a kid, hold an Indian flag in your hand? Or, have you seen your kids doing that? (A pointer to help you remember: people look happy and proud when they hold it, not haughty, shrewd or gleeful.)
And oh, sorry for wasting your time with this question Ms. Gandhi. I know you didn't, so Your Highness and Your Kids are exempted of the shame.
All those citizens of India who know and understand what's happening, but have decided not to do anything about it,
Please explain to me how your mind or heart works. I need to understand. No, really, I do.
All the Indians who are doing something, anything!
Hang on there. You are this country's only hope, howsoever feeble it might be. Keep doing your better.
Anna,
The day you were born, we got someone much better than what we deserved. Stay alive. Please.
An old man sent to jail before he committed something you call a crime, over 5000 detained for, well, not eating and fighting against corruption, peaceful mutinies all over the nation that you cannot control without force... Does that ring a bell? Oh wait, I remember! It reminds me of the colonial British Raj! But no, this used to happen when we were not independent, right? But now we are free, right?
BJP,
Stop trying to be on both the ships, so you can decide which one to leave when it sinks. Rats do that. Speaking of rats, I always thought of you as monkeys rather than rats, seeing you have a Vanarsena at your disposal. But perhaps their courage and bravery comes useful only when Muslims are to be killed or partygoers are to be assaulted.
Nitin Gadkari,
Nobody goes to a party uninvited. Thing is, this is not a party, people are actually starving here.
Politicians in general,
Just a question out of curiosity - did you ever, as a kid, hold an Indian flag in your hand? Or, have you seen your kids doing that? (A pointer to help you remember: people look happy and proud when they hold it, not haughty, shrewd or gleeful.)
And oh, sorry for wasting your time with this question Ms. Gandhi. I know you didn't, so Your Highness and Your Kids are exempted of the shame.
All those citizens of India who know and understand what's happening, but have decided not to do anything about it,
Please explain to me how your mind or heart works. I need to understand. No, really, I do.
All the Indians who are doing something, anything!
Hang on there. You are this country's only hope, howsoever feeble it might be. Keep doing your better.
Anna,
The day you were born, we got someone much better than what we deserved. Stay alive. Please.
Friday, July 22, 2011
I will not watch the last Harry Potter movie,
Because its not just another movie. It wasn't just a novel either. It was a world I literally lived in. You weren't just a novel character, ever. You were a person I understood.
Because I wasn't just another fan. I was someone who talked alone in my room, mimicking conversations between you and your friends. Because I literally slept with those books under my pillow. Because I remained awake night after night reading in the lamplight, only to duck inside the blanket on hearing the slightest noise around me.
Because I hated the movies for the twisted disfigured story they showed, but I still couldn't keep myself from watching them over and over again. Because I felt genuinely excited about wearing a S.P.E.W. badge on my chest when I went to see The Goblet of Fire. Because I keep a secret photograph of mine, wearing black robes and a pointy hat, holding a black stick I called wand. Because I thought that a Harry Potter bookmark was the most intimate gift ever given to me. Because my friends made me cut the cake on Hermione's birthday, and I thought it was cute. Because I own a Harry Potter towel, still.
All this wasn't because I felt Harry Potter was some cult. It was, and is, because it just felt natural to follow you. It was because you taught me that rules can be broken, and that its not a crime to play while working. Because I was a person who thought friends were a myth and friendship was a waste of time, before you made me realise what it truly could be. Because you made me stand up when I was scared. Because it was your story that inspired me to start writing in the first place. Because people may think I am still a kid, but the truth is, I grew up with you.
Every year since I read the books for the first time, I waited, with baited breath, on pins and needles, for the next book, the next movie. And now the wait is over. If I watch the movie, it all ends with a note of finality. If I watch the movie, there is nothing to look forward to. So where does one look, if there is nothing ahead? Look back and reminisce, or just close the eyes? Because, you know, some journeys are so much more beautiful than their final destination. And because this, for me, was a journey of a lifetime.
Because I wasn't just another fan. I was someone who talked alone in my room, mimicking conversations between you and your friends. Because I literally slept with those books under my pillow. Because I remained awake night after night reading in the lamplight, only to duck inside the blanket on hearing the slightest noise around me.
Because I hated the movies for the twisted disfigured story they showed, but I still couldn't keep myself from watching them over and over again. Because I felt genuinely excited about wearing a S.P.E.W. badge on my chest when I went to see The Goblet of Fire. Because I keep a secret photograph of mine, wearing black robes and a pointy hat, holding a black stick I called wand. Because I thought that a Harry Potter bookmark was the most intimate gift ever given to me. Because my friends made me cut the cake on Hermione's birthday, and I thought it was cute. Because I own a Harry Potter towel, still.
All this wasn't because I felt Harry Potter was some cult. It was, and is, because it just felt natural to follow you. It was because you taught me that rules can be broken, and that its not a crime to play while working. Because I was a person who thought friends were a myth and friendship was a waste of time, before you made me realise what it truly could be. Because you made me stand up when I was scared. Because it was your story that inspired me to start writing in the first place. Because people may think I am still a kid, but the truth is, I grew up with you.
Every year since I read the books for the first time, I waited, with baited breath, on pins and needles, for the next book, the next movie. And now the wait is over. If I watch the movie, it all ends with a note of finality. If I watch the movie, there is nothing to look forward to. So where does one look, if there is nothing ahead? Look back and reminisce, or just close the eyes? Because, you know, some journeys are so much more beautiful than their final destination. And because this, for me, was a journey of a lifetime.
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
What my lost purse taught me
Actually this post comes a long time after the events that happened in it. A few months back, I lost my purse in Forum Mall while I was shopping with my parents. When I say I lost it, I mean someone stole it. It was a precious pure leather bag, and I lost it along with a lot of things like my Debit cards, my ID, my pepper spray, an old diary containing all the articles I wrote as a child.
I was distraught, but more than that, I was angry. I hate thieves, I hate people who cheat. i hate people who treacherously take away what's not rightfully theirs. The purse along with all of its belongings were an honest person's earnings, and those vile twisted good-for-nothing thieves had taken them all away for their own honourless living. They had spoiled my evening with my parents, they had no right to do so. They had no right to enjoy at the expense of my tears, and yet they were enjoying, somewhere. It was so unfair that it made no sense. There had to be someting wrong with this world and with the way it worked.
Filled with contempt, I left for my apartment with my parents. The only thought I had on the way back home was - if the thief ever stood in front of me, even to apologise, I will punch him and kick him and hurt him till he bled for my tears.
Two hours after the purse was lost, my father got a call from the Commercial Street Police Station. The Inspector on duty told him that a purse containing an ID of Radha Sawana had been found on the Commercial Street and this was the emergency contact number on the card. He wanted us to collect the purse from the Police Station right then.
Off we went, I and Dad, and the Inspector showed us the purse. It was my purse alright, minus some cash and my pepper spray. I was delighted! I thanked the Policeman with all the gratitude I could muster, I really was immensely grateful. The Policeman asked me if I remembered anything about the thief, as they believed they had some leads on the culprits but needed more information to pursue them. I replied in the negative. Disappointed, he said, "We were lucky in your case Ma'am, at least there was an ID card with contact numbers in it. I have two more such purses, with no clues at all. And they did not register any complaint anywhere, so I cannot collaborate with other police stations for any information. Did you register a complaint somewhere anyways?" I replied in the negative again.
"Why?", he asked, "There is a Police chowki very close to Forum."
Backed up by Dad, I gave him the honest reply - "I didn't have any hope, or expectations"
For a moment, he looked hurt. Then he said pleadingly, "Madame, you should always register a complaint. It helps you and it helps us. Please do let us know if you remember something about the thieves anytime."
Thanking him again, we left, tired faces lit up with smiles. The distress of loosing the purse, and the awful journey till Commercial Street in the rains all remained a distant memory. Sitting in the bus, relieved now, I realised how quickly the Policeman had changed everything. It took just one honest deed, one good gesture to change all the accumulated destructive feelings. And that's when I realised, that Goodness rules the world. Still.
Its not so visible, but its Goodness that drives us all. If only bad things happened to everyone, we all would soon become violent cannibals and destroy each other. But we haven't. There's a lot of poverty, starvation, corruption, injustice, inequality, terrorism (etc. etc.) all around us, enough to make us all mad people. Yet, we haven't. Because sometime somewhere, something good happened to us all, and that is our strength. This goodness drives us to do something good, and this goodness makes us hope for good, expect for good, strive for good.
But we also underestimate this Good. We rarely ever realise how much of it is out there, running this world. We give importance to just the bad things. We remember the theives, we forget the policemen. Don't. Don't let the negative fill up your heart, because there's enough good out there to replace it. Enough, for all of us.
I was distraught, but more than that, I was angry. I hate thieves, I hate people who cheat. i hate people who treacherously take away what's not rightfully theirs. The purse along with all of its belongings were an honest person's earnings, and those vile twisted good-for-nothing thieves had taken them all away for their own honourless living. They had spoiled my evening with my parents, they had no right to do so. They had no right to enjoy at the expense of my tears, and yet they were enjoying, somewhere. It was so unfair that it made no sense. There had to be someting wrong with this world and with the way it worked.
Filled with contempt, I left for my apartment with my parents. The only thought I had on the way back home was - if the thief ever stood in front of me, even to apologise, I will punch him and kick him and hurt him till he bled for my tears.
Two hours after the purse was lost, my father got a call from the Commercial Street Police Station. The Inspector on duty told him that a purse containing an ID of Radha Sawana had been found on the Commercial Street and this was the emergency contact number on the card. He wanted us to collect the purse from the Police Station right then.
Off we went, I and Dad, and the Inspector showed us the purse. It was my purse alright, minus some cash and my pepper spray. I was delighted! I thanked the Policeman with all the gratitude I could muster, I really was immensely grateful. The Policeman asked me if I remembered anything about the thief, as they believed they had some leads on the culprits but needed more information to pursue them. I replied in the negative. Disappointed, he said, "We were lucky in your case Ma'am, at least there was an ID card with contact numbers in it. I have two more such purses, with no clues at all. And they did not register any complaint anywhere, so I cannot collaborate with other police stations for any information. Did you register a complaint somewhere anyways?" I replied in the negative again.
"Why?", he asked, "There is a Police chowki very close to Forum."
Backed up by Dad, I gave him the honest reply - "I didn't have any hope, or expectations"
For a moment, he looked hurt. Then he said pleadingly, "Madame, you should always register a complaint. It helps you and it helps us. Please do let us know if you remember something about the thieves anytime."
Thanking him again, we left, tired faces lit up with smiles. The distress of loosing the purse, and the awful journey till Commercial Street in the rains all remained a distant memory. Sitting in the bus, relieved now, I realised how quickly the Policeman had changed everything. It took just one honest deed, one good gesture to change all the accumulated destructive feelings. And that's when I realised, that Goodness rules the world. Still.
Its not so visible, but its Goodness that drives us all. If only bad things happened to everyone, we all would soon become violent cannibals and destroy each other. But we haven't. There's a lot of poverty, starvation, corruption, injustice, inequality, terrorism (etc. etc.) all around us, enough to make us all mad people. Yet, we haven't. Because sometime somewhere, something good happened to us all, and that is our strength. This goodness drives us to do something good, and this goodness makes us hope for good, expect for good, strive for good.
But we also underestimate this Good. We rarely ever realise how much of it is out there, running this world. We give importance to just the bad things. We remember the theives, we forget the policemen. Don't. Don't let the negative fill up your heart, because there's enough good out there to replace it. Enough, for all of us.
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
Self and Sacrifice
Self-sacrifice is an ambiguous word - it starts with 'self'.
She looked at me longingly, the woman in the shabby dark pink saree. It was raining heavily outside, and in that overcrowded bus I was one of the lucky few with a place to sit. She belonged to the unlucky lot. After some time, she mustered her courage (or so I assumed) and asked me, with signs, to create some space for her to sit. I was half wet in my neat formals, I carried a bag full of books and another cover with some shopping, and the girl sitting beside me at the windowside had two shopping bags in her lap. No, I can't move, we would be too uncomfortable, I replied back in the same sign language.
She turned back with an apologetic smile. I returned to the refuge of my Walkman. After some time I noticed her talking to another woman in a shabby fluorescent green saree. Still talking, she removed her chappals from her feet and stood on the dirty wet floor. Why is she doing that? Is she too uncomfortable in her chappals? Perhaps they have become slippery in the rain. But are her chappals that bad, that she would rather dirty her feet than wear them? But then, she slid her feet into the other woman's chappals, who had removed hers to let her try them. And then, to my surprise, a smile lit up her entire face, her eyes shone, her lips parted, showing her misshaped white teeth. It was the kind of smile you don't generally see on the faces of people like us. It was a smile that started straight from her heart and travelled through her eyes, piercing my heart. I was shocked, because in that depressing overcrowded bus, no one could smile like that. What had she discovered? A pair of low cost chappals? Uncomfotable, for a reason I couldn't place, I returned to the refuge of my Walkman.
After sometime, the girl beside me left, and the woman in pink took her place. She heaved a sigh the moment she sat, and then started stretching her hands and massaging her shoulders and feet. Then she closed her eyes and just sat still. I observed her closely. Her saree was old and patched at a few places. Her chappals were poor. And to my amazement, on her dark body, she didn't have a single piece of jewellery - no ear rings or anklets or a chain, not even a nosepin or a single bangle.
She was a maid somewhere, and was coming back after a hard day. I now knew how she could muster the courage and ask for a place to sit, either she was too tired or she was used to asking others for help. She knew deprivation. She was deprived of jewellery. She was deprived of the pleasure of showing her pretty things to other women. She was deprived of the pleasure of buying her child the toy he wanted badly. She was deprived of the feeling of ending a day's work and going back to rest happily at home. And I had deprived her of 15 minutes of solace, because I would be too uncomfortable with all the shopping bags.
Guilt rose in me. And a justification too. I hate the rains, I hate the crowds, I really was irritated! I am a good person. I donate to needy people. I care, I sacrifice my savings for their happiness. But then, a mocking voice from somewhere within me replied - No, I sacrifice my savings for my happiness. I do end up doing good for them, but for the sake of my own good, to feel good about myself. Its cruel, but it makes sense. Because otherwise, I would have given her a place to sit. I did not, because it wouldn't have made me feel good. I wanted to assert, I wanted to deny my own accusation, but my voice went feeble. To my horror, my own conscience mocked at me.
She looked at me longingly, the woman in the shabby dark pink saree. It was raining heavily outside, and in that overcrowded bus I was one of the lucky few with a place to sit. She belonged to the unlucky lot. After some time, she mustered her courage (or so I assumed) and asked me, with signs, to create some space for her to sit. I was half wet in my neat formals, I carried a bag full of books and another cover with some shopping, and the girl sitting beside me at the windowside had two shopping bags in her lap. No, I can't move, we would be too uncomfortable, I replied back in the same sign language.
She turned back with an apologetic smile. I returned to the refuge of my Walkman. After some time I noticed her talking to another woman in a shabby fluorescent green saree. Still talking, she removed her chappals from her feet and stood on the dirty wet floor. Why is she doing that? Is she too uncomfortable in her chappals? Perhaps they have become slippery in the rain. But are her chappals that bad, that she would rather dirty her feet than wear them? But then, she slid her feet into the other woman's chappals, who had removed hers to let her try them. And then, to my surprise, a smile lit up her entire face, her eyes shone, her lips parted, showing her misshaped white teeth. It was the kind of smile you don't generally see on the faces of people like us. It was a smile that started straight from her heart and travelled through her eyes, piercing my heart. I was shocked, because in that depressing overcrowded bus, no one could smile like that. What had she discovered? A pair of low cost chappals? Uncomfotable, for a reason I couldn't place, I returned to the refuge of my Walkman.
After sometime, the girl beside me left, and the woman in pink took her place. She heaved a sigh the moment she sat, and then started stretching her hands and massaging her shoulders and feet. Then she closed her eyes and just sat still. I observed her closely. Her saree was old and patched at a few places. Her chappals were poor. And to my amazement, on her dark body, she didn't have a single piece of jewellery - no ear rings or anklets or a chain, not even a nosepin or a single bangle.
She was a maid somewhere, and was coming back after a hard day. I now knew how she could muster the courage and ask for a place to sit, either she was too tired or she was used to asking others for help. She knew deprivation. She was deprived of jewellery. She was deprived of the pleasure of showing her pretty things to other women. She was deprived of the pleasure of buying her child the toy he wanted badly. She was deprived of the feeling of ending a day's work and going back to rest happily at home. And I had deprived her of 15 minutes of solace, because I would be too uncomfortable with all the shopping bags.
Guilt rose in me. And a justification too. I hate the rains, I hate the crowds, I really was irritated! I am a good person. I donate to needy people. I care, I sacrifice my savings for their happiness. But then, a mocking voice from somewhere within me replied - No, I sacrifice my savings for my happiness. I do end up doing good for them, but for the sake of my own good, to feel good about myself. Its cruel, but it makes sense. Because otherwise, I would have given her a place to sit. I did not, because it wouldn't have made me feel good. I wanted to assert, I wanted to deny my own accusation, but my voice went feeble. To my horror, my own conscience mocked at me.
Monday, May 30, 2011
Raindrops..
Press your face against the window pane
and listen to the pitter-patter
of the raindrops
Carve your name on the misty window
and look through the clear glass
at the raindrops
Watch the streams trickling down
and watch your name dissolving
in the raindrops
Open the windows wide
and spread out your hands to feel
the raindrops
Go, run, stand in the balcony
lift your face and feel the touch
of the raindrops
Look at the rivulets, the natural drains,
the streets overflowing
with raindrops
Get washed, get fresh, get lost
in the memory lane, travelling
with the raindrops...
and listen to the pitter-patter
of the raindrops
Carve your name on the misty window
and look through the clear glass
at the raindrops
Watch the streams trickling down
and watch your name dissolving
in the raindrops
Open the windows wide
and spread out your hands to feel
the raindrops
Go, run, stand in the balcony
lift your face and feel the touch
of the raindrops
Look at the rivulets, the natural drains,
the streets overflowing
with raindrops
Get washed, get fresh, get lost
in the memory lane, travelling
with the raindrops...
Friday, April 8, 2011
The Hourglass
Years ago, our country became a slave because some people who should've been strong, became weak, because some people who should've have been honest and proud, sold themselves. Did they know then, that they will be looked down upon by their future countrymen? Did they know then, that they will be blacklisted in history, forever?
And then there were some who stood up against. Some small, some big, some nationwide, some unnoticed, unknown. They too created history, a legendary one at that. What did they think of when they stood up? Did they know that the small things they were doing like walking to a seacoast and not wearing foreign clothes, will become an example for generations to come? Who were they? Were they just common people who became one with a leader, or were they wise seers, who knew they would inspire many more in their wake?
Right now, every present moment becomes a past every moment. Does it matter? What I'm doing, will it count? Do I belong to this timeline, to this history created every moment? How will my future generations judge me? Will I be mentioned in their books, will I be talked of in their stories? What will they brand me as? Will I be the weak one, who backed out when he was needed the most? Will I be the rebel, who dreamt of a better tomorrow for them? Or will I be a nobody, just.. a nobody?
[I wrote this post when I decided to attend the candlelight vigil in support of Anna Hazare. I wondered whether the event will come up in the history of India sometime. And if it did, I didn't want it to run like: "India was going to the dogs. A man named Anna Hazare decided to revolt against corruption, but the movement was unsuccessful because he didn't get enough support." What I mean is - you never know ; you might be creating history just by lighting a candle in a park.]
And then there were some who stood up against. Some small, some big, some nationwide, some unnoticed, unknown. They too created history, a legendary one at that. What did they think of when they stood up? Did they know that the small things they were doing like walking to a seacoast and not wearing foreign clothes, will become an example for generations to come? Who were they? Were they just common people who became one with a leader, or were they wise seers, who knew they would inspire many more in their wake?
Right now, every present moment becomes a past every moment. Does it matter? What I'm doing, will it count? Do I belong to this timeline, to this history created every moment? How will my future generations judge me? Will I be mentioned in their books, will I be talked of in their stories? What will they brand me as? Will I be the weak one, who backed out when he was needed the most? Will I be the rebel, who dreamt of a better tomorrow for them? Or will I be a nobody, just.. a nobody?
[I wrote this post when I decided to attend the candlelight vigil in support of Anna Hazare. I wondered whether the event will come up in the history of India sometime. And if it did, I didn't want it to run like: "India was going to the dogs. A man named Anna Hazare decided to revolt against corruption, but the movement was unsuccessful because he didn't get enough support." What I mean is - you never know ; you might be creating history just by lighting a candle in a park.]
Sunday, April 3, 2011
Small Things
When I woke up today morning, I was lying in a mess of my books, laptop, clothes, biscuits, chips, juice bottles and a lot of others things which shouldn't remain on the same bed when someone's sleeping on it. I had slept at 5 a.m. in the morning, reading ferociously through a book, without any consciousness of food, water or the changing colour of the skies outside. At 5, I lay down for a minute, to contemplate what I had read till now, and without realising it, I fell asleep. And just that way, without any alarms, I woke up at 9 in the morning and resumed the novel right away, without getting fresh or having food or switching on the lights. I got up only after I had finished the book late afternoon.
It was one of the most content night and day I had spent in ages. And in all that overflowing exuberance, I realised that the things that give you the most of happiness, are the smallest of such things. I'm not saying that the small things matter the most, they might not matter so much to everyone. The bigger things, your job, your boss, your career, and where exactly your life is going - they all form the greater bigger landscape, but these small things are like the colourful flowery patches dotted along it, which make the landscape so beautiful and so much worthwhile to see.
I remembered it was a similar, yet a very different April exactly a year back, when I had started writing this blog. A blog might not mean a lot to most people, but to me, it was this small thing that made me immensely happy, though for a timebeing. The happiness I got from writing one insignificant article made me happy, and carried me through till the time I wrote the next one. An entire year has now passed away, and I remember every article I wrote, every small patch of flowers, yet the landscape mesmerises me, a giant profile, huge yet hazy.
So here I am, dedicating this post to all those small things in my life. To the small plant I water every morning, to the 2 year old kid on the bus who once held my finger in his fist, to the pizza delivered to my doorstep when I'm mad and hungry, to the boring cricket matches seen along with a bunch of friends, to lying on the ground covered with purple flowers in Lalbaugh, to the 400 bucks t-shirt I bought for my brother, to the 45 minute talk with mum on a saturday morning, to the small pleasures associated with thinking of all this now, and to writing this one article in April 2011...
It was one of the most content night and day I had spent in ages. And in all that overflowing exuberance, I realised that the things that give you the most of happiness, are the smallest of such things. I'm not saying that the small things matter the most, they might not matter so much to everyone. The bigger things, your job, your boss, your career, and where exactly your life is going - they all form the greater bigger landscape, but these small things are like the colourful flowery patches dotted along it, which make the landscape so beautiful and so much worthwhile to see.
I remembered it was a similar, yet a very different April exactly a year back, when I had started writing this blog. A blog might not mean a lot to most people, but to me, it was this small thing that made me immensely happy, though for a timebeing. The happiness I got from writing one insignificant article made me happy, and carried me through till the time I wrote the next one. An entire year has now passed away, and I remember every article I wrote, every small patch of flowers, yet the landscape mesmerises me, a giant profile, huge yet hazy.
So here I am, dedicating this post to all those small things in my life. To the small plant I water every morning, to the 2 year old kid on the bus who once held my finger in his fist, to the pizza delivered to my doorstep when I'm mad and hungry, to the boring cricket matches seen along with a bunch of friends, to lying on the ground covered with purple flowers in Lalbaugh, to the 400 bucks t-shirt I bought for my brother, to the 45 minute talk with mum on a saturday morning, to the small pleasures associated with thinking of all this now, and to writing this one article in April 2011...
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Valentine's Day
They sat still in silence, hugging each other. There were tears in her eyes, and he was sombre. Both were overwhelmed and humbled. In their ears, a Walkman played Nickelback.
It was their first Valentine's Day together, and the day before, they had planned the perfect romantic evening together. They were gonna get an expensive meal parcelled to his apartment, and have dinner while watching their all time favourite Lord of the Rings. It sounded like a dream come true.
But while going back to her place, sitting in the autorickshaw alone, she noticed a man at the signal. His right hand and leg were twisted and scarred, and he walked with a limp from car to car, begging for alms. Unable to look at him any more, she closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. They are everywhere around you, and you look away when you see them, but you can't close your heart to them, can you?
She wasn't herself when she reached home. She was deep in thought even when he called, his voice laced with excitation about the next day. Suddenly, her lost voice had interrupted his cheerful one, "Hon, can I talk to you about something?" He knew something wasn't right. "Yes dear, tell me..."
***********************
The next day, they met in Landmark and bought a sapling worth 80 Rupees. Then they went to his place, and ordered a meal from a nearby restaurant, which cost them 106 Rupees. And the expensive dinner that they had planned, which would have cost them 2000 Rupees at least - Well, they donated it. INR 2000 were credited to an animal care organisation, and their one meal on a special day became a special meal for many animals. The sapling was planted, she wanted to plant something for all the rose bushes which were cut that day.
His mood had become grave when they were browsing for different places where they could donate. They had fallen silent looking at the pitiful faces of little children and the innocent eyes of animals calling out for help. And even as they wanted to help them, they felt helpless.
For a long time after the donation was made, they sat still in the silence, hugging each other. There were tears in her eyes, and he was sombre. Both were overwhelmed and humbled, by their own actions. In their ears, a Walkman played Nickelback - "If everyone cared.."
He spoke after a long time.
"I did it for Snowy. And I wouldn't have done it without you. Thanks.."
"You did it, thats important."
"I want to spend every Valentine's Day this way."
"I guess thats why... I want to spend every Valentine's Day with you."
Valentine's Day is for love, not just for the lover. And love can be for everyone and anyone, even those you don't know. When you share love, it becomes a feeling that resonates through your being. It rings in your cheerful voice, and shines in your tearful eyes. Sometime, just try this, you would know.
It was their first Valentine's Day together, and the day before, they had planned the perfect romantic evening together. They were gonna get an expensive meal parcelled to his apartment, and have dinner while watching their all time favourite Lord of the Rings. It sounded like a dream come true.
But while going back to her place, sitting in the autorickshaw alone, she noticed a man at the signal. His right hand and leg were twisted and scarred, and he walked with a limp from car to car, begging for alms. Unable to look at him any more, she closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. They are everywhere around you, and you look away when you see them, but you can't close your heart to them, can you?
She wasn't herself when she reached home. She was deep in thought even when he called, his voice laced with excitation about the next day. Suddenly, her lost voice had interrupted his cheerful one, "Hon, can I talk to you about something?" He knew something wasn't right. "Yes dear, tell me..."
***********************
The next day, they met in Landmark and bought a sapling worth 80 Rupees. Then they went to his place, and ordered a meal from a nearby restaurant, which cost them 106 Rupees. And the expensive dinner that they had planned, which would have cost them 2000 Rupees at least - Well, they donated it. INR 2000 were credited to an animal care organisation, and their one meal on a special day became a special meal for many animals. The sapling was planted, she wanted to plant something for all the rose bushes which were cut that day.
His mood had become grave when they were browsing for different places where they could donate. They had fallen silent looking at the pitiful faces of little children and the innocent eyes of animals calling out for help. And even as they wanted to help them, they felt helpless.
For a long time after the donation was made, they sat still in the silence, hugging each other. There were tears in her eyes, and he was sombre. Both were overwhelmed and humbled, by their own actions. In their ears, a Walkman played Nickelback - "If everyone cared.."
He spoke after a long time.
"I did it for Snowy. And I wouldn't have done it without you. Thanks.."
"You did it, thats important."
"I want to spend every Valentine's Day this way."
"I guess thats why... I want to spend every Valentine's Day with you."
Valentine's Day is for love, not just for the lover. And love can be for everyone and anyone, even those you don't know. When you share love, it becomes a feeling that resonates through your being. It rings in your cheerful voice, and shines in your tearful eyes. Sometime, just try this, you would know.
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Numb
So dark and dreary was my path,
My heart's still full of fears..
Just trying to think about them,
Makes way for more tears..
So dont try to understand me Ma,
Don't try to reason why..
Tonight don't ask me why mamma,
Tonight just let me cry..
What shall I tell you Ma,
Of the suffering and the sorrow..
The regret of yesterday,
And the fear of tomorrow..
But now I'm safe at home Ma,
I've said all my goodbyes..
And tonight I'll just cry mamma,
Tonight don't ask me why..
Although now I'm home Ma,
And all around me is laughter..
My heart feels this is a calm..
Before the storm, not after..
Will this calm ever stay Ma?
Will this storm ever die?
I'm scared, don't ask me why mamma..
all I want to do is cry..
Soon I will be out again Ma..
And life out there is rough
Inside I'm still your kid Ma,
Though I pretend to be all tough
Things will be tougher this time Ma,
But my tears have now gone dry
I'm scared but I'll stand tall Mamma,
This time, I don't wanna cry..
My heart's still full of fears..
Just trying to think about them,
Makes way for more tears..
So dont try to understand me Ma,
Don't try to reason why..
Tonight don't ask me why mamma,
Tonight just let me cry..
What shall I tell you Ma,
Of the suffering and the sorrow..
The regret of yesterday,
And the fear of tomorrow..
But now I'm safe at home Ma,
I've said all my goodbyes..
And tonight I'll just cry mamma,
Tonight don't ask me why..
Although now I'm home Ma,
And all around me is laughter..
My heart feels this is a calm..
Before the storm, not after..
Will this calm ever stay Ma?
Will this storm ever die?
I'm scared, don't ask me why mamma..
all I want to do is cry..
Soon I will be out again Ma..
And life out there is rough
Inside I'm still your kid Ma,
Though I pretend to be all tough
Things will be tougher this time Ma,
But my tears have now gone dry
I'm scared but I'll stand tall Mamma,
This time, I don't wanna cry..
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