The intent is all that matters!

 

Picture Courtesy: Carolyn Brandt

They say it takes a village to host a wedding, and it's not an overestimation. But we'll come to that later. For starters let me tell you How I Told My Mother about the guy I fell in love with. 

Here's 'The Announcement'

Months of discussion on whether to inform families and weeks of deliberations on how to do that I came up with a plan & executed it just right. It still makes me think how I gathered the guts to do that and makes me laugh every time. 

Backstory: My parents had started sending me pictures of random guys and prospect husbands but I was in a long term relationship. Even though I was quite sick of a telephonic, small talk relationship, I knew I was with the right person. I knew I wanted to be able to spend more time to have deeper conversations with him, share a meal, travel, take joint decisions and much more, so I thought - let's do it? 

8 long work hours of Saturday later, I got in the car, left for home and realised midway that maybe I'm not ready, but I knew that's only because I hadn't decided my outfit and didn't have my friends around to give me a pep talk or share the moment or record it. But it was momentary. When we know we are doing the right thing, with the right intentions, we get courageous. In that moment, we get the not- everything-has-to-be-perfect spotlight. 

I shook the nerves off and gathered the guts to read the text from my boy. It said "ETA: 1 hour". I gulped my fear down the throat, nervously smiled looking at the mirror in the lift and opened the door to my house. 

After a normal post work -day-hugging-smiling-daily-office-chit-chat over tea, I told my mother some of my 'friends' are coming over and waited for my boy to ring the bell. I told my mother to get ready she was surprised but confused but she did it anyway!

Here's how the scene played:

Frame 1: She entered the room in her penguin walk, saw my boy sitting there alone

Frame 2: He stood up and bowed.

Frame 3: She made small talk, bowed her head in response

Frame 4: My evil self smirks a little and I go "No one else is coming. This is the man. You have been asking me to meet boys and start thinking about wedding, so here's the boy!

And that's How I Told My Mother about the love of my life.

                                                   

Can you see through our National Flag?

We are done and dusted with the idea of freedom. We are. I know that. From opinion pieces to research papers, most of us have read everything there was. We have analysed the texts, the words, the lines and even the spaces between them and I have come to realise is that freedom has no one definition but if there is anything about it that most of us will agree with- It's the fact that freedom is about choices.

What that makes us free is to form an opinion, being able to speak and act as we want to without being tried for it. But the moment you impose it, you traverse across the thin line of freedom and become its enemy.

It is about making choices as far as you are not curbing other person's freedom to make choices.

You are curbing my freedom by forcibly trying to enter my personal space or restricting my movement by shouting, yelling or terrorising me when I drive back home from work.

You are curbing my freedom if you are imposing your decisions on me in the name of tradition.

You are curbing my freedom if you are imposing your language, your religion and your opinions on me.

Most women in our country, the tribals, the minority in this sense, are not free. The Chandigarh stalking case, the lynching cases across the country and the fact that we are still selling skin whitening cream saying that it will help us succeed in life speak volumes about where we lag.

Our national flag stands for strength, peace, and prosperity. It stands for our freedom which we won with our cultural, psychological and physical strength. Cultural because if anything 200 years of British rule could do to our forefathers and foremothers was - to make us adopt their ways, not eradicate theirs. Psychological because British official accounts' narrate how mentally disturbed it made them when they oppressed the oppressed and physical because it cost blood.

The fight for our freedom is not very different today. Our fight is cultural, psychological and physical. Just like we can't see if we put out the national flag in front of our windscreen, we won't be able to see if we keep ignoring all that's wrong with this country. There is nothing wrong with loving your country, but to romanticise it, in my opinion, is wrong. Our job I feel as people who can empathise, as people who can understand the nuances of life is to tell people what we believe is right.

And so, my job here as someone who is free to form an opinion and realises its duty, is done.

Here's Faiz Ahmed Faiz' 'Bol ke labz aazad hai tere'

Bol ke labz aazad hai tere

Bol, zabaan ab tak teri hai,
Tera sutwan jism hai tera –
Bol, ke jaan ab tak teri hai.

Dekh ke aahangar ki dukaan mein
Tund hai shu’le, surkh hai aahan,
Khulne-lage quflon ke dahane,
Phaila hare k zanjeer ka daaman.

Bol, ye thora waqt bahut hai,
Jism o zabaan ki maut se pahle;
Bol, ke sach zinda hai ab tak –
Bol, jo kuchh kahna hai kah-le!

Corporate world woes: That Are-You-Healthy email from HR is how they choose to mock you

One thing about being an adult is that you start checking emails more than your social media accounts. Another thing about being an adult is that you don't particularly enjoy doing that, mostly because the emails are either from NGOs asking you for money or from banks suggesting you borrow money (It's a lose-lose situation in both cases) Anyway. Other than emails from NGOs and banks, we get emails from the HR. Now here is the thing about mails from HR- they are harmless but they mock. Mock how? Consider this- No matter how much you want to use the 'Kaam utna karo ki salary zyadda lage' mantra- it's not going to work. Courtesy, universities our bosses went to study at. Given that I am so suspicious of everything in the world [ Eg: I still think Hillary Clinton paid Donald Trump to stand for the Presidential elections so that she could win but then she got trolled and I firmly believe that the bird which sat on Bernie Sander's podium during his speech was trained to do so. Also, I have zero faith in technology. Even though my auto sync is forever switched off, I make sure I don't click things I don't want people to know about because I get a feeling Apple is watching us and that it is partially funded by the US government to provide data ], it was not a big deal for me to think that MBA students have chapters explaining tactics to exploit their employees without them knowing it. Or to sound subtle- To make the most of their resources. Now, since by this age I have plenty of friends working in corporates; here's all that I have been able to figure out and if you're an MBA, let me know how close to reality it is.

The tactics in my view include:

1) Divide and Rule: Don't let your employees become friends
2) Tell them you're an NPA for the company. A Non-Performing Asset, In other words- A liability
3) Tell them their ideas are naive and then add a few flowcharts and tables and present them as yours
4) Give them big targets and the day they reach the target, increase it by half so that the initial target becomes the minimum target.
5) Act sweet.
And 6) Decorate your HR department with showpieces.

Coming back to why I feel the HR department mocks: So last Thursday I got an email saying that the department has arranged a free check up sorts for its employees- For liver and for kidney. I mean? You guys think we are so free we drink often? If there's anything we need a check up for- It's the brain. And the eyes. I am not sure how sitting in front of your system for such long hours can affect your liver or your kidney? The graphic attached asked- How healthy are you. Well, I don't know. I have massive back ache, my brain is exhausted and I am thirsty but I can't get up from my seat because WORK. But sure, let us get a liver check up and see how healthy I am, Showpiece.

Sometimes, I think it's a huge hoax where the government and the corporate worlds are not very different from each other. Consider this- You pay the government for education-the government pays you for working,-you pay the government through taxes-government makes you ignore your health- you fall sick- the government gives you medicines- you think it is taking care of you. Same is with the corporate world. But my problem is not with deceiving because that's what every government does. (Pentagon, are you smiling?) My problem is with mocking. You cannot not get noticed when you do things like this.

Liver check-up.

 WTH.

It is like asking a painter to take tuitions for Mathematics and like asking an ice cream seller if he needs a microwave at his shop and like asking Punjabi parents if they need lessons on good parenting. Futile. They won't do it. They don't need it.

Is this the 'Yahi' in 'Yahi toh maar kha gaya India' ?

Courtesy: MT

India is progressing and progressing. There's no reason for anyone to doubt what Indians are capable of and no, this is not be being all romantic about my country. This is just me talking about a group of people with a common history and the situations it has dealt with. However, there are some problems, peculiar to India. Problems so small and so funny, nobody has been able to figure out a solution. Here's one little problem which could be the "Yahi" in "Yahi to maar kha gaya India".

So, I was never a morning person, I used to be up till late night for exams, for movies, for parties and I have never complained. However, I have started to realise that the situation is different when you're expected to be up all night. Here's a peep into a day of my working life.

I come home at 4am, it's still day time for my body so I hang around the house, eat something, check out all the viral videos I had missed during the day and go to sleep in an hour or two.

It's 9, my maid talks for 15 minutes non stop on an extremely high pitch and I wake up, sit on a chair and wait for everyone to leave the house. 

Maid leaves, I go to sleep and fifteen minutes later my mom calls, "Don't forget to leave my medical slip and card at home before you go.."

Whatever.

I go back to sleep. My brother, excited because it's the second day of his college wakes me up again (I stop keeping a track of time by now) and asks me how he LOOKS. I beg him to let me sleep, he says okay, he leaves my room, comes back to my room, all set for college, fresh and shiz, asks me to lock the door. I get up, finally thanking the lord that I'd finally get to sleep, he stops at the doorstep and asks me which lock would I use to lock the door when I leave. 

It's 10 and I give up by this time. I tell him politely that it's his choice. He picks up the keys and leave. 

I crawl back to my bed, hoping to get an hour or so of good sleep, half n hour goes by and I'm deep asleep. 

And then, two door bells within a gap of 20 minutes. 20 minutes, too long to not sleep, too short even for a nap. 

The inquiry guy and the flipkart guy. 

Okay, whatever. I take the parcel, everything's sorted. I can go back to sleep and still get an hour of good sleep before the day starts. 

And then, my sister calls. Thrice. On landline. 

Call 1. Please receive my flipkart package. Oh it has come! Wow, send me a picture whenever you can. 

I come back to bed. 

Call 2. Did you find the black stockings? 

I come back to bed. 

Call 3. Reminder, send me the picture. 

I come back to bed. 

Mom calls, on mobile. 

Mom: Did the cook come? Okay, if she does ask her to... 

And before I know it. It's 4. And I have to catch a bus at 4:30. 

I havent slept properly, the cook hasnt come so I'll have to pack whatever's there, and I have to give the flipkart package to someone because no one's gonna  be home when the driver comes to pick it up.

The Truth of Our Times

We're 20 something and we have a lot to accomplish. Point taken. Marked, highlighted and double underlined. We want to exhaust ourselves but we don't want to miss out on anything, and with this juggling comes a bucket full of worries.

Every friend I have come across in the past few weeks either needs a date, a car, a job, a vacation or a truck full of alcohol.

Last week, a cousin of mine who's also my age came home. She was looking a little worn off so my brother asked her if it was the summer that had gotten to her nerves or was she just randomly tired, she said she was none but the moment she looked at him I knew what it was. It was her desire to leave the car keys on the table, change into something comfortable and just walk away, far away from these questions and others.

 Reading the expressions on her face, I answered for her and told my brother that we're at this stage of our life where smiling takes effort so he should just let things be. We all laughed a little but we all knew that it was the truth. The truth of our times.

Soon enough, we found ourselves sitting in the car waiting for my brother to get snacks for the evening and talking endlessly about this point in our lives where change seemed like a distant reality. She told me about the chair she sits on, the table she puts her books on and about the walls she stares at. On other occasions, I would have tried to help her but at this point, I knew I couldn't be of any help because the chair she sits on, the table she keeps her books on, the wall she stares at, seemed more familiar to me.

We were at different dimensions but we were living the same life, and it wasn't until recently when I realised that it might take more than courage to take control of your life but it doesn't take much to step aside from the rat race and do things for ourselves.

It was yet another summer night where I was watching movies back to back and I hadn't eaten much, everything was exactly like the night before and the one before it. But what happened next, gave me a little peep into a disastrous future, I could have.

I was stiff knees down, I couldn't feel my feet and I just couldn't stand up, my knees just wouldn't lock. All I could do was to call out my mom and try not to fall and all I could think was about my life minus the legs.

It was the most horrifying moments of my life. It altered me, this little moment.

I thought there was so much I could have done and now I am just going to regret wasting my life. I thought if we're not doing anything for the people around us, if we are not making a difference in the world, what are we even doing with ourselves?

 One day, we'd just get old and our legs won't work for real, our hands will shiver and our brain will give up. What then. Wouldn't we end up questioning our existence, wouldn't we curse ourselves for not finding the reasons and would the reasons even be enough?

And I thought, shouldn't we, already be pacing down, then?



                                                             

The uncivil society.

"I'll talk to her,

About that concert, 

She wanted to attend, 

About that job, 

she was planning to take, 

About her husband & about her children. 

Been a while, since she scolded me, 

Since she teased me, 

About my girlfriend, 

Been a while, 

Since she asked me, 

To cut, 

My hair."

Must be thinking, he, while he crossed the deadly road, to meet his sister.  

The deadly road, 

Of the evil city, 

Which engulfed him, in a fraction of a second. 

"I'll escape this,

this will be just another story, 

I'll tell her I had an accident, almost. 

I'll tell her I died, almost

She'd laugh and waive her hand off, 

I'll escape this,"

He must have thought. 

Death's lust for him, 

Claimed his life, 

Never ever back to his sister

he could return, Sidhdharth Sharma.

The victim of the hit and run case in Delhi's posh, Civil Lines. 

An Open Letter to the Makers of #NestleEverydayMilkAdvertisement

From B&W to Colour, the representation of women.

Could it be that the owners of Nestle are all women and this is the reason why they have so many women actresses in their advertisements? Oh but it was founded in 1905, a year when women writers like Virginia Woolf and Kathrine Mansfield were busy fighting aggressively, with their pen and their paper. 

Fighting against a certain section of the society which thought women have a smaller brain and are meant to make breakfast and lunch and dinner and clean the house and host parties and bear children and stitch and take long walks. 

Or could it be that Nestle has pledged to employ more and more women because they have realised that Virginia Woolf was after all right and that  'a woman must have money and a room of her own if she is to write fiction', where 'writing fiction' could mean doing whatever she desires to do. 

In my view, none of the above is remotely possible because if they would have read absolutely anything about the fate of women in a patriarchal society, their conscience wouldn't have allowed them to shoot an advertisement where there are two women, discussing what makes their tea, better and admirable to the only man in the advertisement.

Ridiculous is one small word to explain the advertisement.

Nestle, my dushman, you're reaching thousands of people, and the message you choose to give out to the women in the society is that however progressively they're dressed, all they'll do is make tea and try to impress the male in the family? Who is taking all these ad making decisions anyway? Insecure mainstream men of the 17th century?

And the newspaper! Women don't read newspaper? I read three, in one day. Just saying.

I do realise that it's not solely the social responsibility of the advertisers to make sure that they don't strengthen the stereotype, but in their quest of being able to 'relate' to the people I am afraid they are doing just the opposite. My mother doesn't make tea and so, she doesn't relate herself with the advertisement, I make tea but I don't expect myself to make tea for somebody everyday like it's my duty and so, instead of relating to the advertisement, I find it irritating. It's plain wrong.

Madhuri Dixit, one Indian talented actresses of all times, known for her dancing skills, known for taking up bold roles is doing what in a Nestle advertisement? Dancing and making food for the entire family, adults or children no bar.

My dad makes delicious food, he cooks for us. Take that, Nestle.

It's not just Nestle, there are other brands involved in this showing-off that -we are all in for the women's movement and we're doing our part in trying to change the society - take LG.



Sundrop advertisement, the woman's serving the food, and the man is the happiest alive.

As if the Nestle ad was not irritating enough, they thought oh-let's-show-the-women-what-they-are-supposed-to-do-and-let's-reinforce-it-by-showing-back-to-back-pseudo-progressive-advertisements.

LG washing machine advertisement where a bunch of women, wearing dresses and heels and makeup and whatnot are dancing their way to the clouds is your treat if you're an 18th century regressive husband.

But if you're not. I empathize with you.

Take CornAgraFood's Sundrop oil. Advertisements showing women in the kitchen, in the market, buying oil, making food, feeding their husbands, their children, their in-laws and whonot. It's unbelievable that the women in the advertising industry let it pass, or could it be that we have the same fate in the advertising industry as the Dalits in the news industry.

Who knows.

Where on one hand we have advertisements which are in true sense, the warriors in this battle of representation of women in the advertisement industry, say Mahindra scooty advertisement, Scooty pep advertisement or Lloyd washing machine advertisement, on the other hand we have advertisements showing women in the kitchen, in the bathroom, in the toilet, in the market, shopping for eatables, all because men are too busy reading the newspapers and running the country.



Here is an advertisement, doing all things right.

However superficial it may seem but if women decide to boycott products which shows them as domestic beings, ya'll are going down, fellas. I'm going to quote my aunt here and say something to you on behalf of all the women who spend their time not washing, serving, cooking or cleaning but, reading, writing, coding, making softwares, hardwares, making laws, making policies, advocating, and doing other things you guys don't show in the advertisements. These are the words of wisdom my aunt gave me the other day, I need them but you need them more, so...

'...mend your ways.'

Standing Up

Blue - almost sets the tone for this week and the previous one. Blue is the colour of my toe after a part of the 50kg glass table fell on it and blue was my nail paint then, so the doctor thought I was overreacting and blue is exactly what I felt like, when I realised that it wasn't just the nail that was hurting, it was also my abdomen and my back. Thanks, clear enough PMS signs.

The toe's much better and the life, easier. Raksha Bandhan was round the corner so I thought it's the best occasion to say my thanks to that one guy, whose name I have no clue of, and whose face I don't much remember for two reason, First - It was way too dark. Second - I didn't take a good look at him. All I remember is that he was lean, dark and one hell of a person.

This goes back to the end of February, when we were busy working for our college magazine. Time then, was just another dimension and not something we had to keep a track of. I had boarded a bus at 8 in the evening. The bus wasn't crowded much so when a man who could have sat anywhere, even in the luxurious front seat with extra leg space, chose to sit next to me and make my heart overwork, change my eyes' size from M to XXXL, transform my palms into sweat pumps and make my face look like that of a grumpy cat, I freaked out.

I was paranoid. Fault of our times, my bad, but this lean-dark-one-hell-of-a-person confronted the guy and asked him to sit somewhere else. Small deed, but the peace I had on my face at that moment would have beaten the peace at a monk's face.

 He could read the signs, he was able to figure out how terrified I was, and he gathered the guts to stand up when my voice had betrayed me. I couldn't have asked the man to get up and leave the seat for no reason, but he could. I was still arguing with the voice in my head which was asking me to chill the fuck up while my face was battling hard to look normal.

The guy got down somewhere before my stop and I never got the chance to thank him but - you go man, kudos to you. Not to suggest that I always always need protection and someone else to speak up for me but sometimes, it's a relief.

Yes, a perfect, faith in humanity restored incident. Just realised.

Faith in humanity, restored.

Happy Rakhi.

Looked Back in Anger.

The number of times I have avoided writing here is directly proportional to the eve teasing incidents I have been subjected to, in the past month. Remember, I said these things can affect efficiency, that's precisely what's been happening. Precisely.

http://www.thegoldenletter.blogspot.in/2014/10/for-how-long.html

Here are the links, which will lead you to the respective pages and prove my point. Pilot woman and IAS women who studied so hard and became something, became the actual policy makers have to put their energy into filing FIRs and fighting for their rights instead of putting their energy into making policies for uplifting the poor, employing the unemployed, saving the earth and being an inspiration for the rest.

http://www.wsj.com/articles/in-afghanistan-death-threats-shatter-dream-of-first-female-pilot-1438738716

http://indianexpress.com/article/trending/idiots-are-lined-up-at-every-step-woman-ias-officer-on-the-harassment-she-faced/

http://www.thehindu.com/news/national/telangana/ts-woman-ias-officer-asked-to-file-complaint-against-magazine/article7374535.ece

I like to be a rainbow and spread positive vibes, but today's not your day, mate.

From staring like they could kill, to singing songs in the street and to stalking me till my effing house and having the nuts to ask for my phone number to creepy-boss-encounter, I literally went through hell this summer.

But unlike bad ol' days, I took control. It's not as if I have not taken control in the past but in the past, I waited for something miserable to happen to take action so this time, I snapped.

When I think of - a group of men assured of the fact that they could just look at a girl, sing creepy songs on the street, make whatever remarks they want to make and go on living their lives without any regrets, it disgusts me and I confess, it scares me to death and so, when it happened with me on the busy streets of Satya Niketan, mind you, a street just opposite to a very respected Delhi University college, I was scared and just like any other sensible person, ignorant of the beasts. Oh wait, I have read The Beauty and the Beast, and Mary Shelly's Frankenstein, calling those men beasts and monsters wouldn't be fair, might be like an insult to the poor beasts, correction - ignorant of the cheap-A-holes-ill-mannered-mentally-inferior-individuals.

My plan was to continue ignoring, but I am 21 and my family has invested some real money in educating me and my teachers, their time. I thought I mean, if I am not going to raise my voice against this, the future generation will curse me like I curse the ghosts of corset-wearing-sickly-looking-petite-Melanie Hamilton-type-women.

And so, within two seconds, I turned back and I was subjected to another remark, I thought - never mind sir, taken; given your earlier remarks on my body, no different than those of all the other women you know, say, the one who pushed you out of her womb some years ago, I understand you're not a rational human being. But then, instead of apologizing, they decided to argue with me, needless to say, an unreasonable argument 'twas.

I stood there, arguing, raising alarm, trying to hide the fact that I am shaking, exploiting my voice-box and get this - not a hint of shame in their eyes. Also, for a cafe so crowded it was Bizarre-ness personified when I figured no one is stepping forward, not that I needed them but dude, a group of six versus a 5 feet myself! You must have a really shallow sense of self to not raise your voice in a situation like this. Hope you guys at the cafe slept well that night, not.

I shook my head and went away because A) My phone's battery was dead, thanks Apple. B) I had realised that no-one else is calling the police. C) I had realised that for other people, those men had not committed any crime.

As I walked away, I was shaking inside, their smiling faces, their audacity had left me striped of my dignity and my strong self. Was this for real, I was thinking, was I paying the price for being a woman, of having breasts and a vagina? I have to fight to be able to walk on the street? No one decides, where I walk, how I walk, I don't even believe in having different countries, I don't even believe in the man made boundaries, if I had to cross the effing national border, I would. This world's not a man made thing, this world's mine and yours, of men and women and I shall walk, hop, jump, run and dance on it at my will! I am just walking down the street and you're passing comments, crazy or what?

I give tuition to some students and the other day my student who's in 2nd class complained to me about this another nursery girl at the tuition who was staring at her. She said it made her uncomfortable. A girl staring at another girl, both below 18 and the one being stared at, was uncomfortable! Imagine what it must be like for a grown up girl who knows who is staring at her and why, and it was then when I decided that I am making a real bad, scary face when someone stares at me the next time because I wouldn't want my students to feel uncomfortable walking on the street when they're my age.

The social media is flooded with theories which say that men will be men, they will get distracted, they will stare and they will turn their faces at the site of women, but what are you suggesting? That human beings have no control over their senses? Bizarre.

For the first time then, I felt helpless, like a kitten stuck on a branch, except I wouldn't want to call myself a kitten, I'd like to call myself a cub may be, at the least. Not that cats can't be strong and fierce but, I'd like to believe that if I can take all the society's BS for so long, I must have the strength of a lion.

I turned back, borrowed a phone and called a PCR. One hour later when they reached, I wrote my complaint, inquired about the cafe's CCTV cameras and questioned directly the man who was working there ; amazing liar I tell you and sure a gossip guy. Why I say a liar and a gossip guy you ask? Well, because when my friend went there the next time with a hidden voice recorder and asked about the incident, he re-told the entire story he had denied being a part of, in an extremely detailed manner, almost like the way I'd talk about my favourite novel, the story of a 5 feet myself arguing with a group of 6 feet tall guys. I reached home by 10 in the evening, got from my mom all the scoldings in the world for not being patient ; skipped dinner because I wanted to assert the fact that I was angry with her and slept with the fear that they'd hunt me down, torment me somehow and kill my life-long dream to become something, to make a difference in someone's life, to be an inspiration.

That set the theme for the rest of my summer but I thought, if my grandmother could raise six children all by herself, have a job and travel the world in the times when most women weren't even educated enough to write their name and know their age, I could totally pull this off.

One can't be a Melanie Hamilton in this century, in my opinion. One sure can learn patience and goodness and whatnot from her and these characteristics might help us when we're stuck in the traffic and our knees are on fire but to fight such lowly-misbehaved-superficial-shallow beings, taking inspiration from Scarlett O'Hara and fighting against all the odds seems like the best option and it might just prevent our future generation from cursing our ghosts, otherwise, the-submissive-insult-taking-weak-oblivious-women we would be called.

And that's that. The time, I looked back in anger.

Revelation #StoriesFromTheTrunk

Diana, while coming back from work, picked up a bottle of champagne and called Mrianne, her collegue and her confidante. Mrianne was on a long leave for she was working for her personal project which she wasn't supposed to be working at, in the office. Diana wanted to meet Mrianne for she knew that her life was changing, bit by bit, and for good. Diana had broken up with Ron on a 'trivial matter', a 'trivial matter' - Ron's term, but for Diana it was a question of survival. 

   She had valued choice and freedom all her life, she had grown up on those terms, she had chosen Ron over many- many dear things and all that, without a moment of regret. But this morning, when she was talking to Ron over phone she knew she'd be calling Mrianne over for a glass of champagne. Not that she wanted to celebrate, she simply wanted to put an end, not with the purpose of starting afresh, just with the purpose of putting an end. 

   She had taken that decision the moment Ron had spoken his very first words on the phone that morning, she loved his voice but hated the authority he spoke with, she loved the way he spoke, but hated what he spoke. She started to think about all the possible ways she could have given him a hint that he had any power over her. She lost track of Ron's words, and dismissed the idea of giving him any hints that might make him feel like he has power over her. It was too strong a word for her and too strong an idea. The idea of an individual having power over the other amused her 'how could he possibly think that it is all right for him to talk to me with such authority' she thought to herself, until now, she had completely lost track of what Ron was saying. She knew for a fact that she had to put an end to her misery, she did not speak with authority with him and he wasn't supposed to do that either. She knew she was going to end it.

   While Ron spoke on the phone, she smiled , for her it was like a revelation. She thought of all the stories she had heard about, read about. Stories of love and war, of men and women. She laughed and stopped herself from dramatizing her own life while Ron spoke on the phone, she found Ron still speaking continously on the phone while she imagined calling Mrianne over. 

   She had already started to like the change in herself, so much that she smiled while making breakfast for herself, rewarded herself with extra honey on her bread, shook her head with amusement, called herself muddleheaded and left for work. The day seemed shorter than ever and before she could even realise, she was on her way back home, calling Mrianne. 

"Ashamed of being a Hindu, not."

 India has a very long and lengthy history of communal violence but at no point of time have I felt ashamed of belonging to a particular religion, and why should I? Is it not a well known fact that life is sacred and no religion makes it okay for an individual to take another individual's life?

    I was never ashamed of belonging to a particular religion, what has however surprised me time and again is that there survives a human being who so completely, so blindly follows one religion, worships one God and still has the time and the energy and the heart to hate another religion, conspire against it and kill others not of his type.

   What harm can a building do? You build a temple, a mosque, a church, employ a priest, a man of the God who talks about Him, read from the holy books and interprets them for you - people visit these building and buy religious commodities from other people and the holy man too makes a little amount of money and runs his family. In this scenario, if people get what they want, a place for their peace of mind and others make their livelihood, would I be wrong in suggesting that it's a business and would it be that strange? Would it not be a yet another, well known fact ?

   Who are these people then, who are benefited by burning down the houses to rubble, who are these people then, who are so insecure about their religion that they are creating hardships for the others, what incentives, what gifts, what gold, what glory, what have their own religion given them that they are so much against the other person's God?

   If Fortitude( dhairya ) , Forgiveness( mahopeksh ) , Restraint( gupti), Purity (pavitrya ) , Control over sense organs ( samyam) , Intelligence ( avgam ) , Knowledge ( abhiyam ) , Truth( satyat), Absence of anger (akrodh) are the ten characteristics of Dharma, how exactly are they, the Dharmvirs, those who follow the principles of Hinduism.

   If according to Mahabharta, "..that man is a wretch who is not fulfilled with jealousy at the sight of his enemy's prosperity" are not all these men wretches?

  If these people inflict violence on other people, cause harm to them and if they don't follow the principles of their own religion, why should we associate them to Hinduism or any other religion for that matter?

   These are the hypocrites who wish to use the religion they are born with as their weapon for their selfish purposes, for money and needless to say for power. These could be the illiterates who have not  understood their religion themselves and the lessons of hatred have been passed to them by the rich and the powerful, the jealous and the wretches, these could also be the small children, the young minds who do not yet understand the purpose of religion in their lives, could these also be the pseudo - religious youngsters in their 20s or 30s who have been manipulated, shown a dream, promised land and other resources in return of their 'duty' to the religion, by these wretches?
 
   Sometimes, these are the needy, working for the rich and the powerful, an example of which we saw in Kashmir in 2010 where locals were paid Rs. 400 - 6 US dollars - 5 Euros - per week to pelt stones on the security forces - Why would people choose consciousness over hunger?

http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/india/A-stone-pelter-in-Kashmir-gets-paid-Rs-400-a-week/articleshow/7173104.cms?referral=PM

   When Tom Hanks, in the movie Cast Away is stuck on an island, alone and  thousands of miles away from his homeland, he rests his faith in a non-living thing, in a football. That non-living thing acts as an embodiment of the belief he had in himself and helps him get through the difficult time. That is what religion is all about, resting our faith in something or somebody, it's about getting one through his rough days, rough times, it isn't meant to be used as a reason for violence. Religion is not about violence, it never was. I know because my grandmother has never uttered a word to me about communal violence.and she has read and understood the principles of Hinduism herself.

    In spite of all the efforts of the elderly and the spirituals in my family I don't often offer my prayers to the God, if there is any. I don't go to temple, don't fast and neither do I sing religious songs but I know for a fact that I am a better Hindu than any of those who are and have been behind the communal riots in Ballabgurh, in other parts of this country or abroad and so, if there is anybody who should be ashamed for their religion, it must be them.

http://www.huffingtonpost.in/2015/05/30/ballabgarh-riots-muslim_n_7475094.html
  

I Took The Ladder

27th May, 2015


There are days when more than one thing goes wrong and today, was just that day. Even those who don't believe in signs and in the universe tend to doubt themselves when things like these happen. One starts to think and re-think about the rules of the universe. When I got up after writing my exam today I realised that the universe has been trying to tell me something, I am sounding like Rohda Byrne, I know, but these incidents, in themselves didn't make sense, really, but together, they did.

#Sign1 - The stupid law of gravity acting smart. 

Spilled a glass full of mango shake on my clothes just before leaving. 

#Sign2 - The realisation that my next buy should be a compass. 

My motor skills suck and that's no secret but my uncle's motor skills weren't working  either, he got confused and we ended up using the best navigation available, the roadside-navigation-service-providers, the-choor-choor-naan-guys. 

#Sign3 - When hard luck struck real hard. 

I entered the university, walked till the centre and waited there for 15 minutes for the exam to start, just when I was going to enter, I checked the list and realised that the rooms have been changed. 

#Sign4 - The sucky motor skills of the lift. 

Went to the next centre, took the lift for the third floor, pressed the button '3' two hundred crore times, it took me to the basement, yeah.  

#Sign5 - Laddar to the rescue. 

Reached the centre, sat on my desk and realised that I'll have to climb a laddar, cross a bridge, go straight from the roundabout and then take a boat from between the forests and walk another mile to reach the desk -_- The space between the bench and the desk seemed more than the distance between Jack and Rose after Jack's death. 

Sign6 - Feeling sinking in.

Somehow after changing my position 20 crore times, I adjusted and realised that two of my new pens weren't working, I had to fill 30 odd pages.

Sign7 - Killed my vibe. 

The half sleepy invigilator made eye contact with me as if I was doing something shady and by then the feeling had possessed me, completely. I knew for a fact that it's not my day and I should probably just sit quietly, write my paper and get out of the hall as soon as possible and so I did. Rationality is something I have always believed in, but it's my brain which acts funny sometimes, or is it that my brain is programmed in a way to draw meaning out of everything  everything?

Her universe #StoriesFromTheTrunk

It must have been around 3 in the morning when Molly got home. She was again late from her work and her fifteen year old son had fallen asleep. She opened the refrigerator and took out a can of beer, she closed her eyes and sighed, silently. She looked at the beer can and thought to herself, had she failed as a mother?

   She took a sip and thought, had she been too selfish in filing for the divorce? She opened her eyes and found herself crying, she had always hated crying, pertaining to the stigma attached with it. ' Women have a shorter and a shallower tear duct than men ', she had read that somewhere, she reminded herself that she is still radical, it was the tear duct that was at fault. She was trying to comfort herself, was overthinking every bit, but what else could she have done? She had realised that she was falling apart, piece by piece. She knew that she could not deal with the guilt all by herself, but she was, all by herself. She had chosen this life and had she not been sorry for her son, she would have been content. According to her, this life with emotional outbreaks and guilt was much better than the life she had been living with her husband.

    Johnes was everything Molly was not and this was why they got together at first but once they were done discovering each other they could not bear each other. Their ideology, their philosophy for life was way too different. Their son, Peter had no idea about the differences but as he grew up he too thought that it was better for both of them to separate, although he was only fifteen years old, Molly had always thought that he had an old soul. A soul which has seen everything, understood everything and was in a fifteen year old's body just so that he could stand by her.

   Molly used to believe in the universe until her divorce, post divorce, she could not stop blaming herself, the only thing she did not want to give her son was, a life without a father but she could not do anything about it. She felt helpless and tired ; mentally tired. She could perform all the duties of a father but she could never replace the touch of a father.

   She knew Peter was understanding enough that his parents can't live together and that was what was eating her, she knew Peter wouldn't crib, she knew Peter wouldn't say a word for he understood her mother more than her she understood herself, but she also knew that that could be his parasite too. His own suppressed desires might start feeding on him one day, and what will she do then?

    She was so completely torn between her son's desires and her freedom, she could not deal with her own self anymore. She sat on the rocking chair and finished her can, she stared at the wall and cursed the universe until she fell asleep.

The Suffering #StoriesFromTheTrunk

The Day He Froze, Again.

It was 5 '0' clock in the morning. He got up and started thinking about the day that had passed. He closed his eyes hard and tried not to recall the moments. He was terrified, sweat dripping off his forehead, his eyes blood shot, his lips white and his cheeks scarlet with the realisation of the gravity of the situation.

 At 5 in the morning, this was all very surreal for him, he tried to get up from the bed, stretched his hand to reach for his specs which were kept on the metallic bedside table, next to the Father's day card his son had made for him. He couldn't recall keeping his specs on the table the night before. He figured his wife, Martha would have removed the specs while he was asleep, and kept it there. He hastened with it, took his legs out of the quilt slowly, trying not to wake Martha up. His legs had been cold even under his quilt.

   As he keeps his feet on the carmine carpet, he feels a relief. The carpet was warm and comforting. He takes a deep breath and tries to block the memories of the horrible incident of the previous day, he stands up, his hands hanging from his body like that of a dead person, his steps, firm, his head, steady, his eyes, blank and his pace, slow. 

   He walks to his son's room and keeps the palm of his hand on the bed and feels the quilt, he sits on the messy white table lying beside the bed and keeps his head on the pillow as if, trying to smell his son. He finds the bed empty and gets up from the table, slowly, moving away from the bed, the memories of all those fifteen years, coming back to him, bit by bit. He sits on the floor and presses his hand hard against his mouth, trying to sob without making a sound, taking in all that had happened.The lose of his ten year old son, who had died fifteen years ago in a car accident on the 6th of October 1998. For him, it was the 7th of October.

   He had been waking up at five in the morning, feeling like it's the 7th of October 1998 since fifteen years. He had not been able to forget and move on even after Martha's several attempts. Martha felt that she was luckier, she did not have to go through the pain, the agony, the suffering of losing a son, every morning, like her husband.  

**********

Us, women

 For how long can one fight on trivial issues? For how long can we fight with our loved ones for things like, going for a play at 7 ; Going for a guest lecture which ends post-sunset? Not for long. I can't. I can't stand silent treatments, so I am usually torn between following my heart and thinking about the restrictions. I have tried to reason with my family, extended family, cousins, second cousins and the only argument they come up with, is our security and by our I mean mine and other girls' who feel the same way, as if the whole world is after our life, the robbers are out of work for banks are all corrupt and the rapists are forever roaming around in Delhi. I mean, No. This world doesn't stop after sunset and so we shouldn't have to, either. 

On the face of it, people are so liberal, they don't restrict anymore, there is no restriction on what we eat, what we drink, what we wear, where we go, but actually, there is a glitch. There is no restriction on what we eat, what we drink, what we wear, where we go - Before sunset. Post sun set, there isn't much option. One could either, argue and continue with the schedule or one could suffocate oneself, let go off an opportunity to learn something and be the ‘lady’. I'd choose the former over the latter any day. Any day. But it's tiring, I have the ovaries to fight with the robbers and the rapists and the kidnappers, that's not tiring at all, what's tiring is the arguing-with-people-part. It takes a lot of our time and energy and again, our brothers don't have to drain themselves of all the energy because, well, let's not state the obvious here and waste more energy, and so when we’re arguing, we’re not always just gathering good reasons, we’re also controlling our jealous nerves and that makes the whole process slower and more difficult. 

We want to feel okay if our guy friend asks us to hop in his bike and go somewhere, honestly, how free are we if we have to do calculations before getting on a vehicle.

Most of the time, we don't give a fuck but sometimes, we can almost feel the stares seep through our body. It's humiliating, so one decides to not feel that way once in a while and be A-okay with doing what other people expect him/her to do- Not to get on a bike with the friend of an opposite gender, i.e . This problem is obviously not limited to any one gender.

I'm not sure if it's the culture that we are so deeply rooted in? Or is it just the fear of what the other 'cultured' person will say? I don't know. All I know, is that we want to use our energy in our work and not in justifying what we did. We want to be safe on the streets post-sunset (being alert all the time, thinking about all the previous groping incidents that have happened, is annoying, nobody wants to have the same alert expression throughout the day.) We don't want to think ten crore times before getting in a friend's car or bike, we want to be able to work to our potential and not be restricted by the society. And I think this could all be achieved if people just may be may be, stop judging others? We could probably build a lot better society.                                                                                                                                                                                                     

Like Optimus Prime, I Transformed.

I have been planning to start a blog since a very long time now, it's not just because I'm tired of over thinking on a particular subject, but also because it is like I discover something new every time and I can not always be sure enough to tell the other person about it. 

I get ideas, like everybody else, some wild, some subtle, some small and some humongous but unlike some very daring people I have repeatedly failed in carrying them out or even in giving them voice. 

There are things we all realise, at some point of time, through our experiences and many a times, these are some very significant life lessons. When this year started, I wanted something life changing to happen but what I hadn't realised was that, that the process had already started.

It was such a trivial thing which had acted like a catalyst but it changed my life. I had lost something very valuable, and I used to be the kind of person who'd let things-materialistic things have over-power me and so when I lost it, I was so disheartened that initially, I didn't want to accept it. 

Later, I cried about it, I started getting dreams about getting it back, I pretended as if nothing had happened but I was upset and a lot. Some days later, it hit me that it's never coming back and for other people, it was just a phone. 

For me, it was much more and why? I started thinking about it and I thought, how shallow. 

How shallow can I be? It was after all, a non-living, small working machine, neither a person nor my pet. Not even the roof above my head, not the bed I sleep on, not food or anything which is even remotely related with my life. It was a tool to facilitate my life, it was not my life. I realised my life was here, with my parents, in my house, in the college, inside my classroom, in the books I read, it was not tied to a thing.

 I realised I had given it too much control over myself and that I had been doing the same with all my things. I started being thankful, to the universe for working in my favour, for giving me all I had, my parents, my siblings, my friends. And that, changed my life. Significantly.

And then things ran smoothly, for ten seconds. New events started unfolding, one by one, every second I was torn between thinking deeply or letting it slide and I found myself over-thinking, over-reading every situation and I cursed myself for it. 

But now, at this point of my life I feel if there is a reason for an event to turn the way it did, one should find it and if not, then shmurr, we'll forget about it. *Random Thought Alert*- It's up to us, to take cues from life, it is a choice. If we're by ourselves, we don't owe our existence to anyone and so, our choices are justified  justified. Every time. Every time. Right?