A friend forwarded a mail one day with 4 basic questions which every individual asks him / herself at some point of life or other -
Is God willing to prevent evil, but not able? Then he is not omnipotent.
Is he able, but not willing? Then he is malevolent.
Is he both able and willing? Then whence cometh evil?
Is he neither able nor willing? Then why call him God?
I'm penning my thoughts as they come, so they may be confused, contradictory etc. at times...
Let me start with 2 things I was taught since childhood:
A power called God exists and it is a good power.
God is present in everyone.
Now if the above statements were to be believed, a person like Osama Bin Laden would have God in him, thus making him a good power. This kind of analogy would lead to oversimplification of the entire situation.
A better way to look at it would be by comparing the power of Godliness to powers / qualities / senses like intelligence, ESP, humanity, kindness etc. I believe that mankind - every one of us are endowed with each of these qualities. But the level of development of these senses in us is what makes us different. A variety of factors - social circumstances, upbringing, inculcated ideologies, life experiences - all these culminate and bring out the best or worst in us. In addition, there is a strong prevalent factor called Will Power.
The saying "If I will, I can" is the truth most pivotal in human existence.
If you will the good in you to be stronger than the evil then you can be good. Goodness may be exemplified by qualities namely kindness, empathy, truth, love, forgiveness, humility...Doesn't it then follow that if you are good, you are a representative of God to someone, somewhere, sometime.
On the other hand, if you are weak and give into failure, depression, evil ways etc. then obviously you defeat the very purpose of your existence on earth i.e. to do and be good.
Its not easy to be good but its not too hard either. When you wake up in the mind with a good thought - for or about a person or a world as a whole you have begun the chain of goodness. Every time you decide to smile at someone, to withdraw from an avoidable fight, to fight the urge to bitch about / curse someone you are continuing to be good.
Evil is also a relative term. I recently read in a Readers digest article that when famous news personality Barbara Walters asked a Jihadi whether she, being a on Muslim would be allowed into heaven, he promptly said "no". The same answer was given by the priest of an evangelic church. The 2 people who gave the same answer come from diametrically opposite social backgrounds - one who has spent a life time killing in the name of faith and does not regret it and the other who has spent a life time preaching faith. But to both these people, non allegiance to their religion was cause for non entry into heaven. As it is the evil who are denied heaven, by the same logic a non Muslim or non Christian becomes evil automatically - their perception of evil is the same though they are evil in the eyes of each other - Ironical!
My take on evil:
When jealousy clouds every action and decision of yours
When your urge to hold power and wealth far exceed your capacity to use it for good or your need for it
When your sexual desire over powers you and doesn't stop you from crushing innocence
When you start valuing things more than people or their feelings
That’s when you are evil.
Answering the 4 questions, I have been able to do justice to the 1st 3 questions:
Is God willing to prevent evil, but not able? Then he is not omnipotent.
Is he able, but not willing? Then he is malevolent.
Is he both able and willing? Then whence cometh evil?
because I believe that existence and non existence of evil is a purely human factor. I do not see an evil tree or an evil sea or an evil mountain or an evil star. I only see evil humans. As indeed evil is the propagation of humans, it has to be brought to an end by human actions alone. If we as a living vibrant genus will to put an end to evil, we can. But as long as there are a million interpretations to the word evil, there will be a billion ways to end it and all these ways to end evil will be perceived as evil by someone. It’s a vicious Circle.
Is he neither able nor willing? Then why call him God? - this is a question for which I do not have an answer. This can be answered by an atheist. I do not believe in a power which is neither able nor wiling. I believe in myself and my immense power to do good and my staunch willing to do good within my limited capabilities. If I believe the above statement, then I believe in God or let me say "the power called God".
Tuesday, March 21, 2006
Friday, March 17, 2006
LOVE HURTS
Love hurts! It’s a known and established fact.
The moot points here are:
Is love worth all the hurt that it inflicts?
Why do people willingly fall prey to this eerie concept well aware of the pain involved?
The answer to the second question is decipherable to some extent from the social behaviour of man. He smokes, drinks, does drugs, bungee jumps, scuba dives and does a lot of other totally crazy stuff just for the rush he gets doing it. He is well aware of the risk involved and of the final consequence in case the risk materializes. But he goes ahead unabashed because he justifies it as taking a calculated risk. If all goes well he will come out a winner with the thrill of his life. After all it’s a great story to tell the grand kids that your grand parent once jumped off the ledge of a 40 story building.
The second and maybe the most obvious and simple reason is that you normally don’t have much control over what your heart falls for. It’s difficult. It’s like a moth getting attracted to the proverbial flame. It just can’t help itself. When you start liking a certain person for whatever reason – because they are beautiful, because they are smart, because they love you, because they make you laugh, because they care for you or just because they exist… the ball is on the roll. Its just cascades like a snowball from the top of a steep slope. Its uncontrollable and it just gets bigger and intensifies as it goes ahead. It takes every thing that comes in its way.
I love walking, not for a particular reason or not to a fixed place. It is a unique experience when u, for a split second step into the shoes of other people - the young girl standing at the bus stop with a shy smile and a far way look in her eyes, a man walking with down cast eyes lost in his own world, the middle aged, over weight housewife rushing to run errands for the house……
Many a times such musings of mine have led me to believe that most of these people just wished they had someone walking with them, someone to share the journey with, someone to talk to, someone just to be there…Maybe that answers the first question to some extent. If only there were someone with whom I could walk that extra mile of life, if only there were someone whom I could count on to be there when I am feeling down & out, maybe then I would be willing to go through the hurt that love actually inflicts. The hurt that you feel when a loved one ignores you, the hurt when you feel when a loved one disregards your feelings, the hurt you feel when a loved one pricks your heart for something you did or said unknowingly, the hurt that you feel when your loved one promises to call you but does not, the hurt that you feel when your loved one does not attempt to even understand you, the hurt you feel when some one you love loves someone else….
That’s a lot of hurt, but you know what – I think the heart is emotionally conditioned to accept all that hurt and still keep beating. Love is necessary and I guess it comes as a package deal… u want love, u gotta get hurt!!!!!
The moot points here are:
Is love worth all the hurt that it inflicts?
Why do people willingly fall prey to this eerie concept well aware of the pain involved?
The answer to the second question is decipherable to some extent from the social behaviour of man. He smokes, drinks, does drugs, bungee jumps, scuba dives and does a lot of other totally crazy stuff just for the rush he gets doing it. He is well aware of the risk involved and of the final consequence in case the risk materializes. But he goes ahead unabashed because he justifies it as taking a calculated risk. If all goes well he will come out a winner with the thrill of his life. After all it’s a great story to tell the grand kids that your grand parent once jumped off the ledge of a 40 story building.
The second and maybe the most obvious and simple reason is that you normally don’t have much control over what your heart falls for. It’s difficult. It’s like a moth getting attracted to the proverbial flame. It just can’t help itself. When you start liking a certain person for whatever reason – because they are beautiful, because they are smart, because they love you, because they make you laugh, because they care for you or just because they exist… the ball is on the roll. Its just cascades like a snowball from the top of a steep slope. Its uncontrollable and it just gets bigger and intensifies as it goes ahead. It takes every thing that comes in its way.
I love walking, not for a particular reason or not to a fixed place. It is a unique experience when u, for a split second step into the shoes of other people - the young girl standing at the bus stop with a shy smile and a far way look in her eyes, a man walking with down cast eyes lost in his own world, the middle aged, over weight housewife rushing to run errands for the house……
Many a times such musings of mine have led me to believe that most of these people just wished they had someone walking with them, someone to share the journey with, someone to talk to, someone just to be there…Maybe that answers the first question to some extent. If only there were someone with whom I could walk that extra mile of life, if only there were someone whom I could count on to be there when I am feeling down & out, maybe then I would be willing to go through the hurt that love actually inflicts. The hurt that you feel when a loved one ignores you, the hurt when you feel when a loved one disregards your feelings, the hurt you feel when a loved one pricks your heart for something you did or said unknowingly, the hurt that you feel when your loved one promises to call you but does not, the hurt that you feel when your loved one does not attempt to even understand you, the hurt you feel when some one you love loves someone else….
That’s a lot of hurt, but you know what – I think the heart is emotionally conditioned to accept all that hurt and still keep beating. Love is necessary and I guess it comes as a package deal… u want love, u gotta get hurt!!!!!
Thursday, February 23, 2006
MILLION DOLLAR DREAMS
Things don’t always go the way u want them to. In fact, they almost never do.
Every one dreams as kids. There is something about innocence that makes us dream. We dream up fantasies, fairy tales, plans for future, ways to make the world a better place, space travel, marriage, love…all is well dreams. Dreams are happy. We get to be a doctor and save hundreds of lives, or an actor and give the thank you speech at the Oscars or discover a planet and become world famous. We become rich. We are happy. We are always happy in our innocent dreams…our childhood dreams.
Then we grow up. We understand, rather we make believe that dreams don’t actually come true. All those inspirational stories about live saving doctors and Oscar winning actors are just what we thought… dreams and dreams only. Reality bites and bites hard. We cower in front of what seem to us, a Herculean task – keeping ourselves happy and satisfied (meaning food, clothing and shelter). But food translates into Rs.1400.00 a meal, twice a week affair, clothing becomes Rs.3000.00 for a designer shirt and Rs.5000.00 for branded shoes and shelter becomes a 1 crore shindig which hardly has enough space to move around in a concrete jungle.. the price of a fancy address. We get educated with these goals in mind, we work like asses for these material possessions and end up with them. We do.. at least I have. No, I don’t have a one crore flat in Pali Hill, I haven’t ever been to the TAJ or the Oberois and I don’t own a single piece of designer clothing – not even a pair of Levis jeans. But… but I am in a position to afford at least a couple of these things and maybe if I push myself over the edge even the one crore house maybe mine. I would at last have everything and then I would realize that I have nothing.
I was so busy trying to earn and achieve what I though was my dreams that I never realized that that my dream was infact a mirage… it was never meant to be. I looked back over my life and realized that I did not become a life saving doctor or an award-winning actor. I spent my life doing some half brained job in which I had no conviction, trying my best to kiss my superiors ass and getting happy when the pay cheque came at the end of every month – I thought it was worth it all. I did not find love – I left behind all who loved me because I had more important things on my mind then, I did not get married or if I did, its almost non existent now, I did not have kids or if I did, they have turned out to be my worst nightmares, I don’t have anybody to grow old with because I have a one crore house but I don’t have a home, I have designer clothes but no where to go wearing them because I have only colleagues and no friends, I have money to buy the best meals but I can’t afford to relish even simple dal-chawal because I have a hoard of fancy diseases and have to nearly starve myself if I have to live. The irony of life!
Why do we not enjoy simple things in life? When we get wet in the rains, why is our immediate concern the ensuing cold and cough, why can’t we just enjoy the feeling of raindrops washing away all our worries? When we miss a train or a bus, why do we panic as if that were the end of the world, why can we not consider ourselves blessed that God has given us enough time to catch the next bus or train? When we see a small baby smile, why does our though train run to its future rather than enjoying the sweetness of that smile?
Why do we get scared of our dreams, as we grow older? Why do so many inhibitions haunt us as we gather more knowledge? Does wisdom come with resignation to ones fate? Why do we no longer believe that anything is possible? Why do we become incapable of enjoying life? Why do we fail to live?
Every one dreams as kids. There is something about innocence that makes us dream. We dream up fantasies, fairy tales, plans for future, ways to make the world a better place, space travel, marriage, love…all is well dreams. Dreams are happy. We get to be a doctor and save hundreds of lives, or an actor and give the thank you speech at the Oscars or discover a planet and become world famous. We become rich. We are happy. We are always happy in our innocent dreams…our childhood dreams.
Then we grow up. We understand, rather we make believe that dreams don’t actually come true. All those inspirational stories about live saving doctors and Oscar winning actors are just what we thought… dreams and dreams only. Reality bites and bites hard. We cower in front of what seem to us, a Herculean task – keeping ourselves happy and satisfied (meaning food, clothing and shelter). But food translates into Rs.1400.00 a meal, twice a week affair, clothing becomes Rs.3000.00 for a designer shirt and Rs.5000.00 for branded shoes and shelter becomes a 1 crore shindig which hardly has enough space to move around in a concrete jungle.. the price of a fancy address. We get educated with these goals in mind, we work like asses for these material possessions and end up with them. We do.. at least I have. No, I don’t have a one crore flat in Pali Hill, I haven’t ever been to the TAJ or the Oberois and I don’t own a single piece of designer clothing – not even a pair of Levis jeans. But… but I am in a position to afford at least a couple of these things and maybe if I push myself over the edge even the one crore house maybe mine. I would at last have everything and then I would realize that I have nothing.
I was so busy trying to earn and achieve what I though was my dreams that I never realized that that my dream was infact a mirage… it was never meant to be. I looked back over my life and realized that I did not become a life saving doctor or an award-winning actor. I spent my life doing some half brained job in which I had no conviction, trying my best to kiss my superiors ass and getting happy when the pay cheque came at the end of every month – I thought it was worth it all. I did not find love – I left behind all who loved me because I had more important things on my mind then, I did not get married or if I did, its almost non existent now, I did not have kids or if I did, they have turned out to be my worst nightmares, I don’t have anybody to grow old with because I have a one crore house but I don’t have a home, I have designer clothes but no where to go wearing them because I have only colleagues and no friends, I have money to buy the best meals but I can’t afford to relish even simple dal-chawal because I have a hoard of fancy diseases and have to nearly starve myself if I have to live. The irony of life!
Why do we not enjoy simple things in life? When we get wet in the rains, why is our immediate concern the ensuing cold and cough, why can’t we just enjoy the feeling of raindrops washing away all our worries? When we miss a train or a bus, why do we panic as if that were the end of the world, why can we not consider ourselves blessed that God has given us enough time to catch the next bus or train? When we see a small baby smile, why does our though train run to its future rather than enjoying the sweetness of that smile?
Why do we get scared of our dreams, as we grow older? Why do so many inhibitions haunt us as we gather more knowledge? Does wisdom come with resignation to ones fate? Why do we no longer believe that anything is possible? Why do we become incapable of enjoying life? Why do we fail to live?
Monday, February 06, 2006
SAR JHUKTA HAI SMS KARNE MEIN
Sar uthta hai garv mein
Sar uthta hai khushi mein
Sar uthta hai “coca cola” peene mein
Nokia could follow suit of this famous Aamir Khan starrer ad.
Sar jhukta hai sharm mein
Sar jhukta hai gham mein
Sar jhukta hai “sms” karne mein…..
I say Nokia not because I have a personal grudge towards the company. No sir, infact I own a Nokia phone and am very proud of it. I say Nokia because it is the largest selling phone in India.
The culture that I am taking about is the product of the telecom revolution and more so the easy availability and perceived fashion statement one makes as a result of owning a mobile phone. I work in a reputed telecom company and am sorry to say that I have a hard time seeing the faces of my colleagues… u know why? Simply because when they are not glued to their computer monitors, they have their heads hung smsing someone. I am intrigued at how they always find someone to sms. I am myself a prolific sms user sending about 100 sms per day (they are free). But when in office, especially when I’m out of my seat walking around, socializing, stretching my legs and basically trying to gather some elusive piece of gossip, I rarely think of a reason or subject to sms someone. But my colleagues think otherwise. Rarely have I seen someone in my office walk the corridor without busily smsing someone. It is definitely not an activity restricted to office corridors, its invading the world. While crossing the road, while waiting for the store keeper to bag your purchases, while out on a morning walk, while on the potty (don’t ask me how I know)!!
I think it is a very convenient way to avoid the world. It serves a lot of purposes. You appear to be busy, you apparently have someone to sms all the time (it is a totally different issue that you may be only checking out the handset features or locking and unlocking your keypad repeatedly), you don’t have to make eye contact with the world, you can avoid a lot of unnecessary pleasantries and friendliness, you look content in your world..you, your mobile and your sms! Perfect family.
Come on man, give it a break! Look up! Look at the world around you. Notice the colleague smiling and waving at you whose face falls because you didn’t return his/her greeting. Look out for that vehicle which is coming out in full speed at the intersection. Look at the world God created exclusively for you. Look at the beautiful things he decorated it with. Look at that pretty chic at the corner or the hunk at the local café. Look up to see the beauty of flowers, the full moon surrounded by a million stars, the smile of a baby. Look for that ever elusive speck of innocence in our lives. God did bless most of us with eyes so that we may enjoy the visual feast he has laid down for us! Enjoy it, lest it may fade before you realize.
Look at the pace at which the world is changing around you. Look up and observe …. The world is rushing past you and you are left smsing.
Sar uthta hai khushi mein
Sar uthta hai “coca cola” peene mein
Nokia could follow suit of this famous Aamir Khan starrer ad.
Sar jhukta hai sharm mein
Sar jhukta hai gham mein
Sar jhukta hai “sms” karne mein…..
I say Nokia not because I have a personal grudge towards the company. No sir, infact I own a Nokia phone and am very proud of it. I say Nokia because it is the largest selling phone in India.
The culture that I am taking about is the product of the telecom revolution and more so the easy availability and perceived fashion statement one makes as a result of owning a mobile phone. I work in a reputed telecom company and am sorry to say that I have a hard time seeing the faces of my colleagues… u know why? Simply because when they are not glued to their computer monitors, they have their heads hung smsing someone. I am intrigued at how they always find someone to sms. I am myself a prolific sms user sending about 100 sms per day (they are free). But when in office, especially when I’m out of my seat walking around, socializing, stretching my legs and basically trying to gather some elusive piece of gossip, I rarely think of a reason or subject to sms someone. But my colleagues think otherwise. Rarely have I seen someone in my office walk the corridor without busily smsing someone. It is definitely not an activity restricted to office corridors, its invading the world. While crossing the road, while waiting for the store keeper to bag your purchases, while out on a morning walk, while on the potty (don’t ask me how I know)!!
I think it is a very convenient way to avoid the world. It serves a lot of purposes. You appear to be busy, you apparently have someone to sms all the time (it is a totally different issue that you may be only checking out the handset features or locking and unlocking your keypad repeatedly), you don’t have to make eye contact with the world, you can avoid a lot of unnecessary pleasantries and friendliness, you look content in your world..you, your mobile and your sms! Perfect family.
Come on man, give it a break! Look up! Look at the world around you. Notice the colleague smiling and waving at you whose face falls because you didn’t return his/her greeting. Look out for that vehicle which is coming out in full speed at the intersection. Look at the world God created exclusively for you. Look at the beautiful things he decorated it with. Look at that pretty chic at the corner or the hunk at the local café. Look up to see the beauty of flowers, the full moon surrounded by a million stars, the smile of a baby. Look for that ever elusive speck of innocence in our lives. God did bless most of us with eyes so that we may enjoy the visual feast he has laid down for us! Enjoy it, lest it may fade before you realize.
Look at the pace at which the world is changing around you. Look up and observe …. The world is rushing past you and you are left smsing.
Monday, January 16, 2006
Rupa weds Rani
“30 couples have committed suicide in Kerala in the last 5 years.”
“19 year old girl attempts suicide after family opposition to torrid love affair.”
These are no normal stories; these are results of our society’s reactions towards homosexuality – same sex love affairs. Especially lesbianism - affairs of women in love with women. I had an argument with my mother over this. She was shocked as to how on earth could such a thing have happened in a literate and open minded state like Kerala! Of all the hypocrisy that I have faced in this world, that took the cake. Here was a woman from the thriving middle class of the Malayalee society who has been living in Mumbai for almost 30 years and has been exposed to a lot of open mindedness but who in the confines of her personal life would not even consider getting her only daughter married to a guy who was not a Nair and too exactly the same sub caste. I am not blaming her. She is my mother and she is only looking out for me. But I can’t imagine her reaction if ever I told her that I were a lesbian. I don’t think education has anything to do with your outlook of homosexuality.
Is homosexuality a crime? Why is it difficult to accept that people of the same sex could be madly in love with each other just as a man and a woman? Why is what two people who love each other, enjoy each others company, who care for each other deeply and want to spend their lives with each other, do in the privacy of their bedroom so important. Why do homosexuals have to infinitely hide the truth of their relation behind the curtains of “good friendship”? Do we pry into the details of the sexual lives of heterosexuals? Do we judge a married couple by whether the man has a fetish or whether the woman likes to be on top? As long as it is a man and a woman it is ok! Why is that?
Even within homosexuality I see the gender bias coming in. I am sure India has as large a number of gays as lesbians, maybe more. But gays committing suicide, gays being the centre of attention etc is not a issue that has come into limelight. I know Ashok Row Kavi as a famous gay activist. I don’t know about any lesbian activists. Is it harder for lesbians than it is for gays? I would never know..
Does it ever occur to the society that homosexuality could actually be good. Homosexuals obviously can’t make babies. Maybe the % of adoptions would go up. May be more orphaned children would get a life. This is just one aspect. When it is two of the same sex in a relationship, maybe instances of oppression, family discord, marital violence would be less as both are on level playing fields.
I have seen on History Channel that in one of the first and most advanced civilizations of the world i.e. the Roman civilization, being a heterosexual was considered a weakness especially among men as it implied that a man (a superior being) had to depend on a woman (a lowly being) for his sexual gratification. That would make him dependent and hence weak. So when did we, as a people move from being a homosexually driven society to a heterosexually driven one? I don’t know, I have not researched the subject.
All I know is that in this world where it is so difficult to find love (love is not to be confused with sex, which is pretty easy to find) if one does find love, I would be happy for that person irrespective of whether it is a man or woman they have fallen in love with.
“19 year old girl attempts suicide after family opposition to torrid love affair.”
These are no normal stories; these are results of our society’s reactions towards homosexuality – same sex love affairs. Especially lesbianism - affairs of women in love with women. I had an argument with my mother over this. She was shocked as to how on earth could such a thing have happened in a literate and open minded state like Kerala! Of all the hypocrisy that I have faced in this world, that took the cake. Here was a woman from the thriving middle class of the Malayalee society who has been living in Mumbai for almost 30 years and has been exposed to a lot of open mindedness but who in the confines of her personal life would not even consider getting her only daughter married to a guy who was not a Nair and too exactly the same sub caste. I am not blaming her. She is my mother and she is only looking out for me. But I can’t imagine her reaction if ever I told her that I were a lesbian. I don’t think education has anything to do with your outlook of homosexuality.
Is homosexuality a crime? Why is it difficult to accept that people of the same sex could be madly in love with each other just as a man and a woman? Why is what two people who love each other, enjoy each others company, who care for each other deeply and want to spend their lives with each other, do in the privacy of their bedroom so important. Why do homosexuals have to infinitely hide the truth of their relation behind the curtains of “good friendship”? Do we pry into the details of the sexual lives of heterosexuals? Do we judge a married couple by whether the man has a fetish or whether the woman likes to be on top? As long as it is a man and a woman it is ok! Why is that?
Even within homosexuality I see the gender bias coming in. I am sure India has as large a number of gays as lesbians, maybe more. But gays committing suicide, gays being the centre of attention etc is not a issue that has come into limelight. I know Ashok Row Kavi as a famous gay activist. I don’t know about any lesbian activists. Is it harder for lesbians than it is for gays? I would never know..
Does it ever occur to the society that homosexuality could actually be good. Homosexuals obviously can’t make babies. Maybe the % of adoptions would go up. May be more orphaned children would get a life. This is just one aspect. When it is two of the same sex in a relationship, maybe instances of oppression, family discord, marital violence would be less as both are on level playing fields.
I have seen on History Channel that in one of the first and most advanced civilizations of the world i.e. the Roman civilization, being a heterosexual was considered a weakness especially among men as it implied that a man (a superior being) had to depend on a woman (a lowly being) for his sexual gratification. That would make him dependent and hence weak. So when did we, as a people move from being a homosexually driven society to a heterosexually driven one? I don’t know, I have not researched the subject.
All I know is that in this world where it is so difficult to find love (love is not to be confused with sex, which is pretty easy to find) if one does find love, I would be happy for that person irrespective of whether it is a man or woman they have fallen in love with.
Pennu Kanal
I had completed my education. I had gotten myself a job. I was nearly quarter of a century old. I had reached that penultimate point of my life. I had to get married.
Now, if you belong to a middle class South Indian family, you would know what would ensue. From the time a girl crosses the legal marriable age, parents go through the beginning of the most tension-filled part of their lives. No parent who has gone through the experience of getting their daughters married would disagree that the entire experience is harrowing at the least.
If it’s tough on the parents, it need not be so for the “brides to be”. It can be the worst time of your life if your flinch on every rejection and it can also be the most enjoyable part of your pre marital life. For me so far, it’s been a roller coaster with my heart soaring with expectations each time only to be shown that this is not it yet.
A friend of mine coined a phrase that I like a lot “licensed display”. That’s what she calls the traditional ceremony of “Pennu kannal” or “Ladki dekhna”, meaning the process where the guy comes with his family and inspects the girl. After the ceremony begins the wait for the girls’ family for the phone to ring to hear the good news.
I have been through 4 of these ceremonies and the phone rang only once and I’m still single. You are right; I was rejected all the 4 times. Not too good for your self esteem but have faith that something better is in store for you and more over you can enjoy your freedom for some more time….
Guy no 1: It was actually not the guy, but his family. His mom, his dad, his sister, his brother in law… all but him. It was in our home in Trichur. Everything went superfluously well. Decent family. We never heard from them. Guess I didn’t fit their mould of a fair, slim, beautiful, homely wife for their son. By the way, I really don’t remember his name or what he did.
Guy no 2: Rank holder CA, got an appointment letter from HLL on the night of the CA final results declaration, has been with them for 5 years, lives in Bangalore, originally from Dombivili, Mumbai. He came with an attitude. I almost thought HLL was his fathers’ property; at least he acted that way. He had an accent – mildly American or so he thought. I had lived in Dombivili for 4 of my infant years. To the uninitiated, Dombivili is a part of Thane district where property prices being low, most of the influx of Malayalee immigrants to Mumbai settle, same as my parents. Most people work hard, earn money and shift to suburbs like Mulund, Chembur, Matunga as a sign of progress. As you would have understood, its miles away from the US of A. So I was left wondering where he got that delightfully false accent from. His mom, dad, aunt and he. My mom, dad, aunt, niece and me. I had never though so many people could fit into that small living room of our apartment in Mumbai and all of us could still breathe. We moved to the balcony with a glass of litchi juice. We talked for 10 minutes about the juice, it was really tasty. He asked me what I was looking for. Reality check – was I in a marriage interview or a job interview? Didn’t seem to be too different. Told him my standard line, “I am looking for a decent non-smoking, non drinking guy”. Oh Oh…I had done myself in. Non-smoking, non-drinking..no wonder I wasn’t getting married. I was asking for an extinct species “non smoking, non drinking malayalee guy” was I crazzzy? By the way, he didn’t say all that. He just said, “Oh! I don’t smoke , but I am a light social drinker (whatever that means)”. I knew that moment that we had no future. And I had just spent 12 grand on a round trip to Mumbai from Coimbatore. At least job interviews reimburse the travel expenses, here no such luck. They never “reverted”.
Guy no 3: This is close to heart. I might not have ended up marrying the guy, but I did find a good friend in him. His family as small as mine came all the way to Coimbatore. He traveled down from Bangalore and his folks came down from Chennai where they are settled. I did not even have to take leave from office. I just took an hour’s break and came home. We walked for about an hour. I showed him the RTO, my office, the walking track behind my house. We talked about all and sundry and it was time for him to go. I really thought it may click. I was almost afraid it might click. I did not know if I was ready for that kind of commitment yet. But we had talked a lot before the actual meeting, so we were comfortable. But things were not to work out, I guess. He and his parents did call me and my folks up and apologize. That was thoughtful of them.
Guy no 4: A doctor from one of the most famous Nair families of Kerala. His family comes to our home in Trichur. His face looks like the surface of the moon. I guess that unfair to the moon, even the moon has lesser number of crates on its surface. His mom and my dad got along famously. Its only after the families were comfortable with each other that I had agreed to the meeting. We talked for a total of 10 minutes, infact he talked for a total of 9 and a half minutes of them and I punctuated the remaining 30 seconds with Oh, I see, good, nice etc. I hope he does realize that he is not the only doctor to have walked the surface of planet earth. We did not hear from them either.
Anyways my parents are still trying to hook me up with some decent guy. May God aid them in their quest! I, for my part don’t think it is such a bad idea. You end up learning a lot about people and their attitudes and if you are as lucky as me you end up making a friend in the process.
Now, if you belong to a middle class South Indian family, you would know what would ensue. From the time a girl crosses the legal marriable age, parents go through the beginning of the most tension-filled part of their lives. No parent who has gone through the experience of getting their daughters married would disagree that the entire experience is harrowing at the least.
If it’s tough on the parents, it need not be so for the “brides to be”. It can be the worst time of your life if your flinch on every rejection and it can also be the most enjoyable part of your pre marital life. For me so far, it’s been a roller coaster with my heart soaring with expectations each time only to be shown that this is not it yet.
A friend of mine coined a phrase that I like a lot “licensed display”. That’s what she calls the traditional ceremony of “Pennu kannal” or “Ladki dekhna”, meaning the process where the guy comes with his family and inspects the girl. After the ceremony begins the wait for the girls’ family for the phone to ring to hear the good news.
I have been through 4 of these ceremonies and the phone rang only once and I’m still single. You are right; I was rejected all the 4 times. Not too good for your self esteem but have faith that something better is in store for you and more over you can enjoy your freedom for some more time….
Guy no 1: It was actually not the guy, but his family. His mom, his dad, his sister, his brother in law… all but him. It was in our home in Trichur. Everything went superfluously well. Decent family. We never heard from them. Guess I didn’t fit their mould of a fair, slim, beautiful, homely wife for their son. By the way, I really don’t remember his name or what he did.
Guy no 2: Rank holder CA, got an appointment letter from HLL on the night of the CA final results declaration, has been with them for 5 years, lives in Bangalore, originally from Dombivili, Mumbai. He came with an attitude. I almost thought HLL was his fathers’ property; at least he acted that way. He had an accent – mildly American or so he thought. I had lived in Dombivili for 4 of my infant years. To the uninitiated, Dombivili is a part of Thane district where property prices being low, most of the influx of Malayalee immigrants to Mumbai settle, same as my parents. Most people work hard, earn money and shift to suburbs like Mulund, Chembur, Matunga as a sign of progress. As you would have understood, its miles away from the US of A. So I was left wondering where he got that delightfully false accent from. His mom, dad, aunt and he. My mom, dad, aunt, niece and me. I had never though so many people could fit into that small living room of our apartment in Mumbai and all of us could still breathe. We moved to the balcony with a glass of litchi juice. We talked for 10 minutes about the juice, it was really tasty. He asked me what I was looking for. Reality check – was I in a marriage interview or a job interview? Didn’t seem to be too different. Told him my standard line, “I am looking for a decent non-smoking, non drinking guy”. Oh Oh…I had done myself in. Non-smoking, non-drinking..no wonder I wasn’t getting married. I was asking for an extinct species “non smoking, non drinking malayalee guy” was I crazzzy? By the way, he didn’t say all that. He just said, “Oh! I don’t smoke , but I am a light social drinker (whatever that means)”. I knew that moment that we had no future. And I had just spent 12 grand on a round trip to Mumbai from Coimbatore. At least job interviews reimburse the travel expenses, here no such luck. They never “reverted”.
Guy no 3: This is close to heart. I might not have ended up marrying the guy, but I did find a good friend in him. His family as small as mine came all the way to Coimbatore. He traveled down from Bangalore and his folks came down from Chennai where they are settled. I did not even have to take leave from office. I just took an hour’s break and came home. We walked for about an hour. I showed him the RTO, my office, the walking track behind my house. We talked about all and sundry and it was time for him to go. I really thought it may click. I was almost afraid it might click. I did not know if I was ready for that kind of commitment yet. But we had talked a lot before the actual meeting, so we were comfortable. But things were not to work out, I guess. He and his parents did call me and my folks up and apologize. That was thoughtful of them.
Guy no 4: A doctor from one of the most famous Nair families of Kerala. His family comes to our home in Trichur. His face looks like the surface of the moon. I guess that unfair to the moon, even the moon has lesser number of crates on its surface. His mom and my dad got along famously. Its only after the families were comfortable with each other that I had agreed to the meeting. We talked for a total of 10 minutes, infact he talked for a total of 9 and a half minutes of them and I punctuated the remaining 30 seconds with Oh, I see, good, nice etc. I hope he does realize that he is not the only doctor to have walked the surface of planet earth. We did not hear from them either.
Anyways my parents are still trying to hook me up with some decent guy. May God aid them in their quest! I, for my part don’t think it is such a bad idea. You end up learning a lot about people and their attitudes and if you are as lucky as me you end up making a friend in the process.
Wednesday, January 11, 2006
COOOOOOOL
I was recently wondering what it was like to be cool? I am really confused with this notion! What does it really mean to be "cool"????
Does it mean being someone who can appear on page 3? This species of humans range from overly fashionable (example: rich middle aged socialite wife of business tycoon, who is trying on the latest scraggly piece of designer clothing which looks like a dish rag to the common man) to utterly obnoxious (example: wannabe babe or dude who is so & so’s boy/girl friend who got drunk in an uptown pub and feels he/she was defending one’s right to be drunk and obnoxious)
Does it mean being someone who is part of what is known as an “upwardly mobile middleclass”? This is someone who belongs to a run of the mill middle class family. A person whose family tried to instill values, atypical of the middle class, in them. Someone who has those values somewhere in their heart and being, but too deep for it to surface at appropriate moments. These are educated folks with really high paying jobs who feel the desparate need to flaunt their new found (seemingly hard earned) money. Someone who thinks that we are gonna be rich (meaning page 3 material) in the near future. So might as well practice being a part of the crowd. This practice session includes experimenting with sex (pre-marital, extra-marital, same-sex), drugs, booze, clubbing, partying and seeing nothing wrong in coming home at 2 am and being on the verge of calling their fathers “old man”!
Does it mean being someone who so wants to be noticed by everybody? Someone who wears prewashed, pretorn jeans, faded stinky T-shirts, grows long hair which can be tied in an awkward pony tail, can be seen lounging doing nothing most of the time and has a standard response “whatever” to all possible questions askable to him. Someone who purchases even the pretorn jeans and faded T-shirts at a premium from the most prestigious branded stores, doesn’t mind paying 150 bucks for a coffee and considers pizza to be the best replacement to the staple Indian diet just because it is American.
Can a person who is modern in outlook, open in thoughts, fearless in attitude, responsible in actions, conservative in dressing, polite in speech, sensible in money matters be ever considered cool?
Naaaaaah!!! Take a chillpill dude! That’s so uncool!
Does it mean being someone who can appear on page 3? This species of humans range from overly fashionable (example: rich middle aged socialite wife of business tycoon, who is trying on the latest scraggly piece of designer clothing which looks like a dish rag to the common man) to utterly obnoxious (example: wannabe babe or dude who is so & so’s boy/girl friend who got drunk in an uptown pub and feels he/she was defending one’s right to be drunk and obnoxious)
Does it mean being someone who is part of what is known as an “upwardly mobile middleclass”? This is someone who belongs to a run of the mill middle class family. A person whose family tried to instill values, atypical of the middle class, in them. Someone who has those values somewhere in their heart and being, but too deep for it to surface at appropriate moments. These are educated folks with really high paying jobs who feel the desparate need to flaunt their new found (seemingly hard earned) money. Someone who thinks that we are gonna be rich (meaning page 3 material) in the near future. So might as well practice being a part of the crowd. This practice session includes experimenting with sex (pre-marital, extra-marital, same-sex), drugs, booze, clubbing, partying and seeing nothing wrong in coming home at 2 am and being on the verge of calling their fathers “old man”!
Does it mean being someone who so wants to be noticed by everybody? Someone who wears prewashed, pretorn jeans, faded stinky T-shirts, grows long hair which can be tied in an awkward pony tail, can be seen lounging doing nothing most of the time and has a standard response “whatever” to all possible questions askable to him. Someone who purchases even the pretorn jeans and faded T-shirts at a premium from the most prestigious branded stores, doesn’t mind paying 150 bucks for a coffee and considers pizza to be the best replacement to the staple Indian diet just because it is American.
Can a person who is modern in outlook, open in thoughts, fearless in attitude, responsible in actions, conservative in dressing, polite in speech, sensible in money matters be ever considered cool?
Naaaaaah!!! Take a chillpill dude! That’s so uncool!
Tuesday, January 03, 2006
NEW YEAR RESOLUTIONS
Its 2006. A new year has begun. The advent of a new year is supposed to be filled with hope, enthusiasm and a lot of other mumbo jumbo motivational crap about how life is great and anything is possible and we ought to know what we want and then we should work towards that dream and one day we will be there… My God! What a lot of bull.
I woke up today the same as yesterday. There was no change whatsoever in the way I looked at things or the way the world treated me. So what’s the big deal about new years anyway????
I think, I will answer my own question. At the end of every day we wait for nightfall as if 6 hours of darkness and blissful oblivion would somehow change things the next day. But all people go to bed thinking that what happened today has happened. Can’t change the past. Better look forward to the future. Tomorrow for sure will be a better day. It’s this hope that keeps us homo sapiens alive and going. Its this uncanny feeling that everything that happens happens for good and that whatever might be our current situation, things could be far worse and that there are many in this world less fortunate that us…
I hence decided that maybe the world will never treat me different and may be I don’t really know how I expect the world to treat me. But I could make a few changes in the way I treat myself. So here goes my long list of New Year resolutions.
1. I will talk less:
All that gyan about silence being golden and maunam vidwana bhushanam etc. may actually mean something. I talk a lot (obviously, hence the resolution) and I talk unnecessarily (no topic is bad for me, no person is to be spared by banter). I am not saying that I will go the silent spectator way. But at least I could think before I speak, I could measure my words, I could stop bullshitting so much. Maybe, what’s the harm in trying?
2. I will be firm:
I am quite a wishy wash kind of person. I have my own opinions and ideas, but they normally get bulldozed over by some one else’s less than brilliant ideas. Why? Because I simply don’t think it is worth the effort to either convince the other person of the worth of my idea or I myself think it is a supremely dumb idea, hence not worth anyone’s time. I also go along with the flow a lot i.e. I give in a lot to the wishes of my friends and family. All those seemingly insignificant daily stuff, apparently adds up to a lot of giving in.
3. I will take care of myself:
I spent the last 2 years expecting my parents to take time off their lives to take care of me. I expected my friend to mother me. I convinced my self that I enjoy the freedom that my life alone gives me but I am just not ready to take the responsibility.
I put on an awesome 10 kg in 4 months simply because I was too lazy to eat right and then ended up paying a months salary (at lest a good part of it) trying to get rid of that extra fat in some superspeciality health clinic.
I brood a lot – that gets me down. I think of the world and what’s generally wrong with it. I think about my family and what's bothering them. I think about my friends and the shit they are going through and that drives me into a mood that does not make me candidate for “the most wonderful person to be around” award. I realize (this realization didn’t come with the new year, I have been aware of it a long time) that there is nothing I can do to change all that and make everything better for everybody. I earn well – so maybe I can donate some of my money to charity. I can help my family and friends in whatever way I can physically and financially – sometimes just being there for them is enough. It’s their lives and I can’t live it for them and worrying myself to death is not gong to help me either.
4. Read:
There was a time when I was a devout reader. Let me be honest I have not read many classics and am not ashamed to admit that. When I moved away from home for my job, I went around buying Bronte, Dickens, Bernard Shaw (I didn’t go overboard and buy Shakespeare – but that’s was next on my list). Anyway with this collection of good books at home, I spent every waking moment I was not at office in front of TV. The last two years I have seen more of the idiot box than I have I my entire life. But as on date that became a thing of the past. I started and finished Chetan Bhagats “One night @ a call center” in 4 hours flat and did not even feel the urge to put on my TV. I then moved to reading some professional stuff and now I am writing. I am determined about this one thing. I want to be able to read again – for all that I am today is because of that one great habit of mine and I am allowing it to die on me so easily.
That’s the end of my list. It’s a short one indeed and I want desperately to be able to stick to it. The trouble is there is one thing about me that needs changing but that I am not willing to change and that is my extreme pessimism. Somehow I think it has kept me on guard and has been healthy for my life and me. Its better to be aware of your own weaknesses and to prepare yourself for the failures that you will face in life. It’s a lot less painful that way than painting up a rosy picture, working your ass off for it and then ending up in a dark alley with a dead end.
So at the end of this year when I re-read this list and don’t give myself a smirk indicating, “jerk! What were you thinking of making such a fancy wish list?” I think I will have done myself a great service.
I woke up today the same as yesterday. There was no change whatsoever in the way I looked at things or the way the world treated me. So what’s the big deal about new years anyway????
I think, I will answer my own question. At the end of every day we wait for nightfall as if 6 hours of darkness and blissful oblivion would somehow change things the next day. But all people go to bed thinking that what happened today has happened. Can’t change the past. Better look forward to the future. Tomorrow for sure will be a better day. It’s this hope that keeps us homo sapiens alive and going. Its this uncanny feeling that everything that happens happens for good and that whatever might be our current situation, things could be far worse and that there are many in this world less fortunate that us…
I hence decided that maybe the world will never treat me different and may be I don’t really know how I expect the world to treat me. But I could make a few changes in the way I treat myself. So here goes my long list of New Year resolutions.
1. I will talk less:
All that gyan about silence being golden and maunam vidwana bhushanam etc. may actually mean something. I talk a lot (obviously, hence the resolution) and I talk unnecessarily (no topic is bad for me, no person is to be spared by banter). I am not saying that I will go the silent spectator way. But at least I could think before I speak, I could measure my words, I could stop bullshitting so much. Maybe, what’s the harm in trying?
2. I will be firm:
I am quite a wishy wash kind of person. I have my own opinions and ideas, but they normally get bulldozed over by some one else’s less than brilliant ideas. Why? Because I simply don’t think it is worth the effort to either convince the other person of the worth of my idea or I myself think it is a supremely dumb idea, hence not worth anyone’s time. I also go along with the flow a lot i.e. I give in a lot to the wishes of my friends and family. All those seemingly insignificant daily stuff, apparently adds up to a lot of giving in.
3. I will take care of myself:
I spent the last 2 years expecting my parents to take time off their lives to take care of me. I expected my friend to mother me. I convinced my self that I enjoy the freedom that my life alone gives me but I am just not ready to take the responsibility.
I put on an awesome 10 kg in 4 months simply because I was too lazy to eat right and then ended up paying a months salary (at lest a good part of it) trying to get rid of that extra fat in some superspeciality health clinic.
I brood a lot – that gets me down. I think of the world and what’s generally wrong with it. I think about my family and what's bothering them. I think about my friends and the shit they are going through and that drives me into a mood that does not make me candidate for “the most wonderful person to be around” award. I realize (this realization didn’t come with the new year, I have been aware of it a long time) that there is nothing I can do to change all that and make everything better for everybody. I earn well – so maybe I can donate some of my money to charity. I can help my family and friends in whatever way I can physically and financially – sometimes just being there for them is enough. It’s their lives and I can’t live it for them and worrying myself to death is not gong to help me either.
4. Read:
There was a time when I was a devout reader. Let me be honest I have not read many classics and am not ashamed to admit that. When I moved away from home for my job, I went around buying Bronte, Dickens, Bernard Shaw (I didn’t go overboard and buy Shakespeare – but that’s was next on my list). Anyway with this collection of good books at home, I spent every waking moment I was not at office in front of TV. The last two years I have seen more of the idiot box than I have I my entire life. But as on date that became a thing of the past. I started and finished Chetan Bhagats “One night @ a call center” in 4 hours flat and did not even feel the urge to put on my TV. I then moved to reading some professional stuff and now I am writing. I am determined about this one thing. I want to be able to read again – for all that I am today is because of that one great habit of mine and I am allowing it to die on me so easily.
That’s the end of my list. It’s a short one indeed and I want desperately to be able to stick to it. The trouble is there is one thing about me that needs changing but that I am not willing to change and that is my extreme pessimism. Somehow I think it has kept me on guard and has been healthy for my life and me. Its better to be aware of your own weaknesses and to prepare yourself for the failures that you will face in life. It’s a lot less painful that way than painting up a rosy picture, working your ass off for it and then ending up in a dark alley with a dead end.
So at the end of this year when I re-read this list and don’t give myself a smirk indicating, “jerk! What were you thinking of making such a fancy wish list?” I think I will have done myself a great service.
Sunday, December 11, 2005
PERCEPTION
There are times when u feel totally helpless in life.. these moments seem to be too frequent now a days. Is it an actual helplessness or just what we feel? Do we over-perceive our helplessness to an extent where it actually overtakes our thoughts and makes us weak?
There are times when I see someone in need – a street urchin, a crippled beggar.. I want to do something to help them. But what? My immediate thoughts go towards reasoning what they might do with the money that I intend to give them. The child would anyway not get anything – some kingpin over them would snatch it all away. The old beggar would only use the money I give to buy to buy booze, bidi, charas…. Why waste my hard earned money? But, what’s in a rupee or two? I don’t know if what I decide just shows that I am a heartless pig, a miserly scrooge or someone who holds principles above every day emotions???
There are times when I love a special someone so much that all I want to do is tell it to them. Confess and then say “Que sera sera”. But what do we do? We overrationalise the decision. We factor in everything. Feelings of others, our social status, what the rest of the bloody damned world thinks of us…
Do we now a days think too much? Think about possible consequences (we think only of the bad ones – not a single good consequence of our actions cross our minds), we think about the effect of our actions on the rest of the world (rest of the world, mind u, not just the few we care about or about whom we care, we think about the whole world – all those people whom we have never given a second thought in the normal course of activities – all of them somehow miraculously play a pivotal role in our decisions). We think so hard and we decide that though a particular action may make us happy, maybe good for us in some way, we should under no circumstance go through with the same – we convince ourselves with some half baked reason…
Have we stopped living today because our actions today may (in our perception) be detrimental to someone somewhere in the near or distant future? Whom are we living for? Is this life ours or something that we owe to the rest of the world? Did God put us on the earth and tell us “ go my child, suffer till u can suffer no more for that is your only purpose in life”. We take pains, we cry and all that for what, for whom – normally for people who don’t care a rats ass if we live or die… that’s whom for.
Is considering our own happiness once in a while, wanting to feel satisfied – even if rarely, wanting to and being able to break into an innocent smile just once in a blue moon, wanting to spend some time with someone dear and feel perfectly ecstatic about it, wanting to fall in love and wanting to keep that love, wanting to live…just live and not merely exist - is it a mortal sin?
There are times when I see someone in need – a street urchin, a crippled beggar.. I want to do something to help them. But what? My immediate thoughts go towards reasoning what they might do with the money that I intend to give them. The child would anyway not get anything – some kingpin over them would snatch it all away. The old beggar would only use the money I give to buy to buy booze, bidi, charas…. Why waste my hard earned money? But, what’s in a rupee or two? I don’t know if what I decide just shows that I am a heartless pig, a miserly scrooge or someone who holds principles above every day emotions???
There are times when I love a special someone so much that all I want to do is tell it to them. Confess and then say “Que sera sera”. But what do we do? We overrationalise the decision. We factor in everything. Feelings of others, our social status, what the rest of the bloody damned world thinks of us…
Do we now a days think too much? Think about possible consequences (we think only of the bad ones – not a single good consequence of our actions cross our minds), we think about the effect of our actions on the rest of the world (rest of the world, mind u, not just the few we care about or about whom we care, we think about the whole world – all those people whom we have never given a second thought in the normal course of activities – all of them somehow miraculously play a pivotal role in our decisions). We think so hard and we decide that though a particular action may make us happy, maybe good for us in some way, we should under no circumstance go through with the same – we convince ourselves with some half baked reason…
Have we stopped living today because our actions today may (in our perception) be detrimental to someone somewhere in the near or distant future? Whom are we living for? Is this life ours or something that we owe to the rest of the world? Did God put us on the earth and tell us “ go my child, suffer till u can suffer no more for that is your only purpose in life”. We take pains, we cry and all that for what, for whom – normally for people who don’t care a rats ass if we live or die… that’s whom for.
Is considering our own happiness once in a while, wanting to feel satisfied – even if rarely, wanting to and being able to break into an innocent smile just once in a blue moon, wanting to spend some time with someone dear and feel perfectly ecstatic about it, wanting to fall in love and wanting to keep that love, wanting to live…just live and not merely exist - is it a mortal sin?
Friday, December 02, 2005
The last link
It’s been quite some time since I last wrote. It was not as if things did not happen or I wasn’t occasionally inspired by places, people and incidents – I was.
Like one of the last links of the lineage of which I am the fourth generation broke. My grandmother’s aunt passed away. She was 90. No body felt sad that she had passed away, come on, the woman was 90. She was way past her time. I even had my doubts whether I really wanted to go and pay her my last respects. All my recent memories of her comprised of her lying like a vegetable in a bed in corner. She had become a dead weight that my granny had to lug around, simply because there was no other option. I didn’t want to go. But I did.
I went there and found a very small gathering of people; some of them I knew and some were alien to me. I walked in and saw a tiny bundle wrapped in pure white cloth. I saw this ebony brown body all of less than 4 ½ foot in length, looking deceptively light with slightly disfigured teeth. I still did not feel the loss of this person.
Let me tell you something about her – she was 90, widowed at a very young age, mother of 3 children – all of whom died at infancy, totally alone, led a slave like life at the mercy of her elder sister – my great grandmother, left out of any kind of inheritance at the time of partitioning, brought home by my grandmother with whom she lived everafter. She had brought up 3 generation of our family including me, my mother, my granny and countless other “relatives”. She had a kind, caring heart – one that always was concerned about the welfare of others – no mater who they were. She was especially close with the workers – the men and women who worked in our house and farms. She may be felt a kind of affinity towards them, she understood their life and she would go out of her way to help them. It was recollected by someone in the tiny gathering there on the fateful day that there was probably no worker in that village who had not been given at least one times meal by her. It was time to take the body away and we were told to touch her feet and say our last prayers for her soul.
I walked ahead, my heart still like stone, not even a tear. I bent down on one knee and touched her feet and then…. Then it was as if a dam had broken. I started crying, not silently sobbing or sniffing like the others in the room. I was crying. In that span of less than 60 seconds I saw my entire life with her flash before my eyes. All those times she had played with me, fed me, told me countless bedtime stories, put me to bed, tried to fulfill every demand of mine, reminded me to carry coconuts and bananas with me whenever I left, kept saying that she wanted to live to see me getting married. I saw all this and much more and I could not believe that I would not see this person again. This was the person to whom I had said goodbye less than a week before and said “ see u next time”. There was to be no next time. She was gone and she was never coming back. I was literally clinging to her legs as if to keep her back in this world. Some one gently pulled me up and I kept sobbing. My granny was next. I have never seen my granny cry – and that’s a lot considering the kind of life she has had. But that day – she cried. This woman had been my granny’s constant companion for more than 2 decades and granny had actually seen the life go out of her as she breathed her last. May be we were the only 2 people in that room for whom this woman meant so much. Both me and my granny – both genrations apart, teary eyed, silently said our last prayers for our lost ancestor. The men of the family came and wrapped the little body and finally covered her face. This was it.
She was gone..
Like one of the last links of the lineage of which I am the fourth generation broke. My grandmother’s aunt passed away. She was 90. No body felt sad that she had passed away, come on, the woman was 90. She was way past her time. I even had my doubts whether I really wanted to go and pay her my last respects. All my recent memories of her comprised of her lying like a vegetable in a bed in corner. She had become a dead weight that my granny had to lug around, simply because there was no other option. I didn’t want to go. But I did.
I went there and found a very small gathering of people; some of them I knew and some were alien to me. I walked in and saw a tiny bundle wrapped in pure white cloth. I saw this ebony brown body all of less than 4 ½ foot in length, looking deceptively light with slightly disfigured teeth. I still did not feel the loss of this person.
Let me tell you something about her – she was 90, widowed at a very young age, mother of 3 children – all of whom died at infancy, totally alone, led a slave like life at the mercy of her elder sister – my great grandmother, left out of any kind of inheritance at the time of partitioning, brought home by my grandmother with whom she lived everafter. She had brought up 3 generation of our family including me, my mother, my granny and countless other “relatives”. She had a kind, caring heart – one that always was concerned about the welfare of others – no mater who they were. She was especially close with the workers – the men and women who worked in our house and farms. She may be felt a kind of affinity towards them, she understood their life and she would go out of her way to help them. It was recollected by someone in the tiny gathering there on the fateful day that there was probably no worker in that village who had not been given at least one times meal by her. It was time to take the body away and we were told to touch her feet and say our last prayers for her soul.
I walked ahead, my heart still like stone, not even a tear. I bent down on one knee and touched her feet and then…. Then it was as if a dam had broken. I started crying, not silently sobbing or sniffing like the others in the room. I was crying. In that span of less than 60 seconds I saw my entire life with her flash before my eyes. All those times she had played with me, fed me, told me countless bedtime stories, put me to bed, tried to fulfill every demand of mine, reminded me to carry coconuts and bananas with me whenever I left, kept saying that she wanted to live to see me getting married. I saw all this and much more and I could not believe that I would not see this person again. This was the person to whom I had said goodbye less than a week before and said “ see u next time”. There was to be no next time. She was gone and she was never coming back. I was literally clinging to her legs as if to keep her back in this world. Some one gently pulled me up and I kept sobbing. My granny was next. I have never seen my granny cry – and that’s a lot considering the kind of life she has had. But that day – she cried. This woman had been my granny’s constant companion for more than 2 decades and granny had actually seen the life go out of her as she breathed her last. May be we were the only 2 people in that room for whom this woman meant so much. Both me and my granny – both genrations apart, teary eyed, silently said our last prayers for our lost ancestor. The men of the family came and wrapped the little body and finally covered her face. This was it.
She was gone..
Thursday, November 03, 2005
My little sister
It kept oscillating – right & left, back and forth. My eyeballs kept following its movement. I was fascinated by its frivolousness. On one hand I was reminded of the pendulum and its movement, old Physics lessons buried somewhere in the recesses of my memory and on the other hand I was irritated by this very movement. It was some weird neo modern, futuristic design purchased for maybe 20 bucks from some local Mumbai train and it adorned the ears of my little sister. All of fifteen and a bundle of totally silly energy – the kind that is common among girls of that volatile age.
I was feeling very jealous.
The girl was fairer than me – it was not my fault that my mom and dad resembled their respective fathers when it came to complexion; she has a figure to kill for at an age since which I had resembled a barrel, she had long hair (the ultimate mark of feminity especially for a Malayalee, which I had promptly cut off at the first instigation from my mom), she had a really sweet voice and could sing really well, she actually got to learn classical dance for more than 2 years (learning to sing and dance well have been life long dreams of mine). She dressed like a girl – like a really pretty girl. She wore pink boldly, she had a pile of imitation jewellery, she mixed and matched her costumes and accessories – that too everyday, she had a case of makeup she found plenty of opportunity to put, she styled her hair in myriad ways – all these were totally alien to me.
Life was so unfair…….
What if she was almost an orphan - her parents got separated when she was one, her mom being a workaholic, she was brought up partly by my mom, our grandma and mostly by Gods grace. Was it my fault that she had never received a good education – she had changed 8 schools in 10 years because of her mothers’ career and our family problems? Could I help it that she is slightly socially displaced?
How could she be in an enviable position inspite of all these problems (none of them being my fault)? Life really was unfair…..
She was being herself and I – the big sister that she looked up to, she was told to make her role model, she had grown to respect over the years, the only person who actually put the fear of God in her, that big sister was jealous of her. Jealous of her because I cannot find the courage in myself to break away from the social image I have created for my self, because I lack the self-confidence in my abilities to experiment with a change in the way I look. For me, the great Renu, who mocks at all social norms, who does things her own way, the hard hitting reality may be that I am stuck with the way people accept me simply because I am too chicken to be what I really want to be. I am too scared of facing the ridicule that society and peers would most likely hurl at me when they see me attempt to change – to adhere to the common image of a woman, after all my tall claims of not wanting to be like one, of actually publicly making fun of all that is feminine and conservative. All I want to be is a woman, not necessarily an Indian woman (that’s tougher than any other species)… just a woman - that would do for a start. But it is the start that I will never make….I can’t bring my self to make.
That might well be the truth, but denial is blissful and I totally am in denial. Life is unfair and it is all my little sisters fault…..She doesn’t know it yet but it is her fault.
I was feeling very jealous.
The girl was fairer than me – it was not my fault that my mom and dad resembled their respective fathers when it came to complexion; she has a figure to kill for at an age since which I had resembled a barrel, she had long hair (the ultimate mark of feminity especially for a Malayalee, which I had promptly cut off at the first instigation from my mom), she had a really sweet voice and could sing really well, she actually got to learn classical dance for more than 2 years (learning to sing and dance well have been life long dreams of mine). She dressed like a girl – like a really pretty girl. She wore pink boldly, she had a pile of imitation jewellery, she mixed and matched her costumes and accessories – that too everyday, she had a case of makeup she found plenty of opportunity to put, she styled her hair in myriad ways – all these were totally alien to me.
Life was so unfair…….
What if she was almost an orphan - her parents got separated when she was one, her mom being a workaholic, she was brought up partly by my mom, our grandma and mostly by Gods grace. Was it my fault that she had never received a good education – she had changed 8 schools in 10 years because of her mothers’ career and our family problems? Could I help it that she is slightly socially displaced?
How could she be in an enviable position inspite of all these problems (none of them being my fault)? Life really was unfair…..
She was being herself and I – the big sister that she looked up to, she was told to make her role model, she had grown to respect over the years, the only person who actually put the fear of God in her, that big sister was jealous of her. Jealous of her because I cannot find the courage in myself to break away from the social image I have created for my self, because I lack the self-confidence in my abilities to experiment with a change in the way I look. For me, the great Renu, who mocks at all social norms, who does things her own way, the hard hitting reality may be that I am stuck with the way people accept me simply because I am too chicken to be what I really want to be. I am too scared of facing the ridicule that society and peers would most likely hurl at me when they see me attempt to change – to adhere to the common image of a woman, after all my tall claims of not wanting to be like one, of actually publicly making fun of all that is feminine and conservative. All I want to be is a woman, not necessarily an Indian woman (that’s tougher than any other species)… just a woman - that would do for a start. But it is the start that I will never make….I can’t bring my self to make.
That might well be the truth, but denial is blissful and I totally am in denial. Life is unfair and it is all my little sisters fault…..She doesn’t know it yet but it is her fault.
Monday, October 24, 2005
A divine experience
I have never been a great lover of the monsoon. Having been brought up in Mumbai where the entire city unites and flows as one huge smelly gutter in the rainy season, being outdoors in the rains just brings up memories of long bathes with tons of Dettol and scrubbing every part of my body which had come in contact with the rain water to get rid of every inconceivable thing that the rain water carries. So it was a surprisingly amazing experience the other day when I walked for an hour through a torrent of the heaviest rainfall Coimbatore had seen in a long time.
I had set my mind on going to the temple one evening. It was just 5 in the evening and it was as dark as it would be at about 8 at night. I knew that the sagging clouds up above were waiting for me to step out so that they could pour out their woes to me. I know that I sound complacent, but it is true. The clouds, the leaves the trees and sometimes even the big Guy himself. I hear all of them talking to me..complaining to me, blessing me, showering me with happiness… I guess nature shows affection in its own way to everybody. It’s just that very few have the time to realize it and respond likewise.
I step out with determination writ boldly all over my face armed with nothing but a hand me down umbrella. I had walked maybe 10 meters and my friends from the heaven rushed down to meet me. First the fat ones came down, every drop as fat as an elephants bottom, perfect teardrop shaped ones. Following them in lightening speed were the lighter sharper ones. The only thing between me and their overwhelming love and desire to meet me was my umbrella.
I discovered that the best way to walk in such a heavy down pour is to tuck both hand perilously close to the torso and to hold the umbrella tightly with both hands. Thus I marched on… feeling almost like a brave soldier who in the face of all odds marched towards enemy lines… I almost felt like SRKs introductory shot in Main Hoon Na, except for the clumsily tucked arms holding a worn down umbrella. My freshly washed jeans, cling to my legs and gradually soak up the rain water so thirstily that I can feel them weighing me down after about 15 minutes of this march. I rarely wash my jeans and the day after I had finally washed them, it rains this heavily. What a waste of all that soap!!
We are half way to our destination and the rain eases out. A few moments more and I reach the temple and find it to be bone dry. It had not even drizzled there. After darshan, as soon as I step out the skies open again as if carrying on with me some incomplete conversation from where it left off. The rain just as enthusiastically continued its prancing and dancing on my poor umbrella. The huge rain drops splattered on to my glasses disintegrating to a million tiny specks, making every thing in front of me a blurred vision. As the rains forged down so did I forge ahead – undaunted. I could have taken a bus or a rick or the many modes of transport that were available. But now this was between me and the rain. It had taken all this trouble to come down and meet me. I was going to oblige it. As I waddled though the rain water – mostly clean (anything is clean compared to rain water in Mumbai) I relished in the feeling. The road was almost empty – Coimbatore being a two-wheeler city. I had the entire stretch to my self save the occasional bus or the brave cabbie.
As I walked slowly down the road, I had a strange sensation – one that I had never experienced before. I felt as if all my tensions getting washed away. I ran a mental scan of all the people I had ever come in contact with in my short life span and I forgave all of them. I asked for their forgiveness. I felt free and relieved. I felt happy and joyous. I felt alive.
I had set my mind on going to the temple one evening. It was just 5 in the evening and it was as dark as it would be at about 8 at night. I knew that the sagging clouds up above were waiting for me to step out so that they could pour out their woes to me. I know that I sound complacent, but it is true. The clouds, the leaves the trees and sometimes even the big Guy himself. I hear all of them talking to me..complaining to me, blessing me, showering me with happiness… I guess nature shows affection in its own way to everybody. It’s just that very few have the time to realize it and respond likewise.
I step out with determination writ boldly all over my face armed with nothing but a hand me down umbrella. I had walked maybe 10 meters and my friends from the heaven rushed down to meet me. First the fat ones came down, every drop as fat as an elephants bottom, perfect teardrop shaped ones. Following them in lightening speed were the lighter sharper ones. The only thing between me and their overwhelming love and desire to meet me was my umbrella.
I discovered that the best way to walk in such a heavy down pour is to tuck both hand perilously close to the torso and to hold the umbrella tightly with both hands. Thus I marched on… feeling almost like a brave soldier who in the face of all odds marched towards enemy lines… I almost felt like SRKs introductory shot in Main Hoon Na, except for the clumsily tucked arms holding a worn down umbrella. My freshly washed jeans, cling to my legs and gradually soak up the rain water so thirstily that I can feel them weighing me down after about 15 minutes of this march. I rarely wash my jeans and the day after I had finally washed them, it rains this heavily. What a waste of all that soap!!
We are half way to our destination and the rain eases out. A few moments more and I reach the temple and find it to be bone dry. It had not even drizzled there. After darshan, as soon as I step out the skies open again as if carrying on with me some incomplete conversation from where it left off. The rain just as enthusiastically continued its prancing and dancing on my poor umbrella. The huge rain drops splattered on to my glasses disintegrating to a million tiny specks, making every thing in front of me a blurred vision. As the rains forged down so did I forge ahead – undaunted. I could have taken a bus or a rick or the many modes of transport that were available. But now this was between me and the rain. It had taken all this trouble to come down and meet me. I was going to oblige it. As I waddled though the rain water – mostly clean (anything is clean compared to rain water in Mumbai) I relished in the feeling. The road was almost empty – Coimbatore being a two-wheeler city. I had the entire stretch to my self save the occasional bus or the brave cabbie.
As I walked slowly down the road, I had a strange sensation – one that I had never experienced before. I felt as if all my tensions getting washed away. I ran a mental scan of all the people I had ever come in contact with in my short life span and I forgave all of them. I asked for their forgiveness. I felt free and relieved. I felt happy and joyous. I felt alive.
Saturday, October 22, 2005
Everyone is Special
It was all I could do to keep my eyelids from closing. It was after lunch and I was desperately trying to keep awake at my work desk. I guess I was doing a pretty good job of pretending to be awake and working as nobody actually came upto me with the noble intention of waking me up - that had happened in the past. A very chirpy and enthusiastic “Haiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii” jolts me awake from my calm afternoon siesta. I’m quick to response like wise, a result of excellent reflexes and years of practice. It’s the girl from HR – the only department that I like a lot because they are the only department compared to which I seem to be actually working my butt off. Hey, common corporate knowledge – HR does no work.
I turn around and look at her and my eyes pop out. “My God! You’ve grown fat And how!” She pouts and looks cute doing it. “You too Brutus! Every one on the 1st floor is anyway being a bit too honest and straightforward about my weight. Some one called my extra luggage; some one called me a pig. No consideration what so ever that I am a girl. You don’t tell a girl that she has grown fat!” The female just looks plain adorable complaining so. She has just returned after a 10 day Durga puja vacation to Kolkatta and that she had a really good time was evident from the fact that now she could actually match me in size.
She was waiting for her friend to go for lunch and lounged around for a bit. As per courtesy I asked her about how she was, how the puja was and did she enjoy herself etc. Instead of the standard “I’m fine and every thing was Ok”, she opened up a bit to allow me a rare insight into her personality. Mind you, this was not a girl with whom I socialized too much, not that I did that with anybody else.
She went off track and started miming something. I was confused. What’s up with this girl? I knew, she was a bit off, but why had she suddenly gone into mute lane and why was she trying to look like one of those special newsreaders. If my generation can recollect, DD had (I don’t know if it still has) special afternoon news for those were audially challenged (deaf & dumb, for the uninitiated). I was as uninterested in these special new casts as I was in regular new. But the girl in front of me claimed to have been fascinated with it. She repeated a few actions and I asked her the meaning of a particular one – one that looked like she was screwing something like a light bulb on her head – she said it stood for Manmohan Singh. I burst out laughing, I don’t remember the last time I had laughed so hard and so loud and maybe even so deep from the heart. This girl had managed to make have a hearty laugh. She had to be special, she just had to be….
She told me that she had wanted to read my blog for quite some time. I noticed that she had a good sense of the English language and some how in those few short moments I felt there was more to her than what met the eye. I suggested that she start writing and share those with others. She said, she did write or rather she used to write. But those are too private to be shared. I understood. There are some things about me that scare even me, and so I can’t share them with myself let alone the world. But most of my other feelings are quite common, in the sense that every one feels them at one point or other. Sharing them does not embarrass me or make me feel vulnerable or ashamed – I get strong vibes that these are what I am supposed to feel being a part of the society.
She had a certain lost innocence in her, which I had not noticed till date. She told me that she had an ink pen that she loved and a red bound diary that she adored and may be she wrote when she did just for the love of the pen and the book. She wrote all there was to write in a period, which can be typically called the “teenage soul searching emotional turmoil” stage of your life. I know, because that is when I also felt the need to express myself through poems and attempted prose.
Her writings, those memoirs of the rebellious and confused period of her life, got lost in time…
She told me that she had freaked out in her college life. She had so many friends and they had done a lot of crazy stuff, the result of the age and the need to desperately break out of the social boundaries and to experiment – I guess. I drew a stark mental comparison to my own college life, there was not much of anything in it – I didn’t remember anything other than the fact that I was a total geek, in the classical sense of the word – first bench student, thick glasses, oiled hair, obnoxious dress sense and a barrel like figure. No friends, no fun, no nothing… She had met all those old friends this time she had been to Kolkotta. All those freaks with whom she had shared hours and hours of meaningless banter about anything and everything, she fondly remembered those times. She told me that surprisingly she could not have a decent conversation with them now, when she had met many of them nearly 3 – 4 years later. After the usual pleasantries, things just got stuck. She had nothing to ask and they had nothing to say. It was an awkward silence. I’m not too familiar with that feeling (simply because of the total lack of a huge number of friends), but I knew exactly what she meant. She will always have fond memories of those times and in her heart will be this childish yearn to relive those days but her mind will tell her that that it will not be. She had gone ahead in life; she had a new life now, new people, new friends and maybe a new persona altogether. She had moved on.
Listening to her, I realized that every one moves on. What at a particular period in time feels like the perfect idyllic life and time seem to be just a stepping stone in to the unknown future. Once the future closes on you, that too with lighting speed, mind you, you will look back at those very times and ponder upon them and smile fondly recollecting those times. But put in the very same situation today, you will feel totally out of place in your own past!!! I guess life is like a river. Though the mouth of the river, the point of origination is the purest and the best part of its existence, a river once it sprouts out from the mouth, never goes back, it just flows ahead – absorbing all that the world has to offer - good and bad, till it finally meets the ocean one day…..
I turn around and look at her and my eyes pop out. “My God! You’ve grown fat And how!” She pouts and looks cute doing it. “You too Brutus! Every one on the 1st floor is anyway being a bit too honest and straightforward about my weight. Some one called my extra luggage; some one called me a pig. No consideration what so ever that I am a girl. You don’t tell a girl that she has grown fat!” The female just looks plain adorable complaining so. She has just returned after a 10 day Durga puja vacation to Kolkatta and that she had a really good time was evident from the fact that now she could actually match me in size.
She was waiting for her friend to go for lunch and lounged around for a bit. As per courtesy I asked her about how she was, how the puja was and did she enjoy herself etc. Instead of the standard “I’m fine and every thing was Ok”, she opened up a bit to allow me a rare insight into her personality. Mind you, this was not a girl with whom I socialized too much, not that I did that with anybody else.
She went off track and started miming something. I was confused. What’s up with this girl? I knew, she was a bit off, but why had she suddenly gone into mute lane and why was she trying to look like one of those special newsreaders. If my generation can recollect, DD had (I don’t know if it still has) special afternoon news for those were audially challenged (deaf & dumb, for the uninitiated). I was as uninterested in these special new casts as I was in regular new. But the girl in front of me claimed to have been fascinated with it. She repeated a few actions and I asked her the meaning of a particular one – one that looked like she was screwing something like a light bulb on her head – she said it stood for Manmohan Singh. I burst out laughing, I don’t remember the last time I had laughed so hard and so loud and maybe even so deep from the heart. This girl had managed to make have a hearty laugh. She had to be special, she just had to be….
She told me that she had wanted to read my blog for quite some time. I noticed that she had a good sense of the English language and some how in those few short moments I felt there was more to her than what met the eye. I suggested that she start writing and share those with others. She said, she did write or rather she used to write. But those are too private to be shared. I understood. There are some things about me that scare even me, and so I can’t share them with myself let alone the world. But most of my other feelings are quite common, in the sense that every one feels them at one point or other. Sharing them does not embarrass me or make me feel vulnerable or ashamed – I get strong vibes that these are what I am supposed to feel being a part of the society.
She had a certain lost innocence in her, which I had not noticed till date. She told me that she had an ink pen that she loved and a red bound diary that she adored and may be she wrote when she did just for the love of the pen and the book. She wrote all there was to write in a period, which can be typically called the “teenage soul searching emotional turmoil” stage of your life. I know, because that is when I also felt the need to express myself through poems and attempted prose.
Her writings, those memoirs of the rebellious and confused period of her life, got lost in time…
She told me that she had freaked out in her college life. She had so many friends and they had done a lot of crazy stuff, the result of the age and the need to desperately break out of the social boundaries and to experiment – I guess. I drew a stark mental comparison to my own college life, there was not much of anything in it – I didn’t remember anything other than the fact that I was a total geek, in the classical sense of the word – first bench student, thick glasses, oiled hair, obnoxious dress sense and a barrel like figure. No friends, no fun, no nothing… She had met all those old friends this time she had been to Kolkotta. All those freaks with whom she had shared hours and hours of meaningless banter about anything and everything, she fondly remembered those times. She told me that surprisingly she could not have a decent conversation with them now, when she had met many of them nearly 3 – 4 years later. After the usual pleasantries, things just got stuck. She had nothing to ask and they had nothing to say. It was an awkward silence. I’m not too familiar with that feeling (simply because of the total lack of a huge number of friends), but I knew exactly what she meant. She will always have fond memories of those times and in her heart will be this childish yearn to relive those days but her mind will tell her that that it will not be. She had gone ahead in life; she had a new life now, new people, new friends and maybe a new persona altogether. She had moved on.
Listening to her, I realized that every one moves on. What at a particular period in time feels like the perfect idyllic life and time seem to be just a stepping stone in to the unknown future. Once the future closes on you, that too with lighting speed, mind you, you will look back at those very times and ponder upon them and smile fondly recollecting those times. But put in the very same situation today, you will feel totally out of place in your own past!!! I guess life is like a river. Though the mouth of the river, the point of origination is the purest and the best part of its existence, a river once it sprouts out from the mouth, never goes back, it just flows ahead – absorbing all that the world has to offer - good and bad, till it finally meets the ocean one day…..
Tuesday, October 18, 2005
You are hired!
As a kid I wanted to be a doctor. When I grew up a bit I realized that being a doctor involves a lot of studying and a lot of money outflow. So I dropped the idea and decided to become an IPS office. A few years wiser I realized that it doesn’t pay too well and you have to be saluting a lot of scum. So I decided I wanted to be a movie star. A few years down the lane reality stuck me – I was not Marylin Monroe – hell! I was not even plain Jane like Sandra Bullock. By this time I had finished school, Mom was of the opinion that I should take up commerce – Science was not my cup of tea and Arts had no future. Then she decided that I should study something alongside my degree as I had lots of free time (colleges in Mumbai are only for 3 hours per day). So I enrolled myself for CA. After 3 torturous years I completed the course (so much for not studying too hard) and had dreams of a high paying (at least 25K per month) job. It is with these star-studded dreams that I typed out my resume and started job hunting.
I actually went through the entire resume and certificates in hand, knocking at countless doors, appearing for innumerable interviews and facing rejection and even humiliation phase before landing the plump job I have now. Those were the days..now that I look upon them (not that those were eons ago), I have a hearty laugh. But that’s now… at that point it was sheer despearation and frustration all bottled up at not getting that dream job, at times not even being selected for 2nd rounds of interviews.
A few incidents from that period stand out in memory –
A pharmaceutical company. Morning 10:30 AM. Position – Assistant Manager – Accounts. Interviewer – Head Accounts. General accounting concepts were discussed. I answered to the best of my abilities. I had a feeling this might actually click. The place was good, the guy in front of me seemed like a reasonable fellow, the pay might also be good though it might not be a dream salary. All was fine till he asked me “Could you tell me what is s/165 of the Income Tax Act?” What the heck? Who actually remembers all the sections in income tax act (there are people who can memorise books and can repeat the contents at the touch of a button, I’m just not one of them) I was stumped. Instead of just staying that I don’t know, I said “Why don’t you hand me the Income Tax Act book kept on the shelf behind you and I’m sure I can search out the section for you. I believe that once I show you where it is, your English is good enough to read the section and understand what is written in it.” That was the end of the interview. Don’t know why, they never called back!!!!
A famous IT concern. Mid morning 11:30 AM. Position – Financial Analyst – International operations. After interviews with the functional heads I head for a final interview with a department, which in later professional life was to become the department that I was convinced, was a part of every company only to exhibit the skill of looking busy without actually doing any work – HR. Mr. HR manager informs me that as I would be dealing in international operations, the timings may be a bit odd. As I had expected that, I was prepared for it. I politely enquired, “What is my shift?” He looks at me as if I’m from Mars and tells me “You have to be in office by 9:00 AM”. I’m a bit confused. “What are the normal office hours?” I ask. He is even more amazed. He challenges, “How long are you willing to work?” I say “Till say, 10:00 – 10:30 at night. Approx. 13 hours per day”. He smirks and says “The actual work normally begins by 9:30 PM and may go on till 2:00 –3:00 AM”. I’ve had it till my neck with this fellows “higher than thou” attitude. I snap and sweetly ask him “ Do you have a guest house here?” - “No”. “Will you provide me quarters on the premises?” – “No”. “So you actually expect me to travel a total of 4 hours per day to come to work for nearly 16 hours?” He looks down on me and says “Every one does it. Those are the work requirements now a days”. I retort, “How do you know? You are HR – you’ve never worked a day in your life.” The interview ended there. I did not become the Financial Analyst – International Operations.
An old house Mutual Fund company. Waiting period of 2 hours - 11:00 AM to 1:00 PM. Heavy rains – totally drenched. Bored to the core and frustrated. People kept going in and out of the electronically guarded doors to/from the inner sanctorum of the office and I’m sitting there like a wet hen. I was almost feeling insulted. Finally I’m called for an interview by a guy who I suspect is nearly my own age. After 2 hours of waiting they send a rookie to interview me. I was seething by now. I’ve hardly taken a seat and he shoots, “Do you know how to calculate the yield of an equity share?” This was the limit! I conjure up my most sarcastic tone and say, “I thought this was a financially well off company and that you could afford computers.” He is shocked and is hooked on my bait, “We have computers!” I smile and say, “Oh, I’m sure that you guys do calculate the yield of equity shares, even in my absence and that it would be with the aid of computers. So when you have a system for doing something, why the hell did you waste two hours of my time to ask this meaningless question? I turn and walk out of the room before he could react. I don’t want to hear from them ever again.
The most famous private bank in India. I have to say that I was totally taken in by appearances and was smitten by their office. I’m interviewed for some post so insignificant that I don’t even remember it now. I thought I was actually doing quite well. The next day I gave a follow up call and I got a reply, which to this day rings in my ears like a resounding slap, “He was not impressed by you.” That SOB, HE was not impressed with ME. Who did he think he was? That two-bit clerk! Wish I could show him my paycheck now. He would most certainly be impressed.
I finally got interviewed by a bunch of people who were as unconventional, as off beat and as crazy as me. I still work with them. Birds of the same feather do flock together – believe me – its better that way!
I actually went through the entire resume and certificates in hand, knocking at countless doors, appearing for innumerable interviews and facing rejection and even humiliation phase before landing the plump job I have now. Those were the days..now that I look upon them (not that those were eons ago), I have a hearty laugh. But that’s now… at that point it was sheer despearation and frustration all bottled up at not getting that dream job, at times not even being selected for 2nd rounds of interviews.
A few incidents from that period stand out in memory –
A pharmaceutical company. Morning 10:30 AM. Position – Assistant Manager – Accounts. Interviewer – Head Accounts. General accounting concepts were discussed. I answered to the best of my abilities. I had a feeling this might actually click. The place was good, the guy in front of me seemed like a reasonable fellow, the pay might also be good though it might not be a dream salary. All was fine till he asked me “Could you tell me what is s/165 of the Income Tax Act?” What the heck? Who actually remembers all the sections in income tax act (there are people who can memorise books and can repeat the contents at the touch of a button, I’m just not one of them) I was stumped. Instead of just staying that I don’t know, I said “Why don’t you hand me the Income Tax Act book kept on the shelf behind you and I’m sure I can search out the section for you. I believe that once I show you where it is, your English is good enough to read the section and understand what is written in it.” That was the end of the interview. Don’t know why, they never called back!!!!
A famous IT concern. Mid morning 11:30 AM. Position – Financial Analyst – International operations. After interviews with the functional heads I head for a final interview with a department, which in later professional life was to become the department that I was convinced, was a part of every company only to exhibit the skill of looking busy without actually doing any work – HR. Mr. HR manager informs me that as I would be dealing in international operations, the timings may be a bit odd. As I had expected that, I was prepared for it. I politely enquired, “What is my shift?” He looks at me as if I’m from Mars and tells me “You have to be in office by 9:00 AM”. I’m a bit confused. “What are the normal office hours?” I ask. He is even more amazed. He challenges, “How long are you willing to work?” I say “Till say, 10:00 – 10:30 at night. Approx. 13 hours per day”. He smirks and says “The actual work normally begins by 9:30 PM and may go on till 2:00 –3:00 AM”. I’ve had it till my neck with this fellows “higher than thou” attitude. I snap and sweetly ask him “ Do you have a guest house here?” - “No”. “Will you provide me quarters on the premises?” – “No”. “So you actually expect me to travel a total of 4 hours per day to come to work for nearly 16 hours?” He looks down on me and says “Every one does it. Those are the work requirements now a days”. I retort, “How do you know? You are HR – you’ve never worked a day in your life.” The interview ended there. I did not become the Financial Analyst – International Operations.
An old house Mutual Fund company. Waiting period of 2 hours - 11:00 AM to 1:00 PM. Heavy rains – totally drenched. Bored to the core and frustrated. People kept going in and out of the electronically guarded doors to/from the inner sanctorum of the office and I’m sitting there like a wet hen. I was almost feeling insulted. Finally I’m called for an interview by a guy who I suspect is nearly my own age. After 2 hours of waiting they send a rookie to interview me. I was seething by now. I’ve hardly taken a seat and he shoots, “Do you know how to calculate the yield of an equity share?” This was the limit! I conjure up my most sarcastic tone and say, “I thought this was a financially well off company and that you could afford computers.” He is shocked and is hooked on my bait, “We have computers!” I smile and say, “Oh, I’m sure that you guys do calculate the yield of equity shares, even in my absence and that it would be with the aid of computers. So when you have a system for doing something, why the hell did you waste two hours of my time to ask this meaningless question? I turn and walk out of the room before he could react. I don’t want to hear from them ever again.
The most famous private bank in India. I have to say that I was totally taken in by appearances and was smitten by their office. I’m interviewed for some post so insignificant that I don’t even remember it now. I thought I was actually doing quite well. The next day I gave a follow up call and I got a reply, which to this day rings in my ears like a resounding slap, “He was not impressed by you.” That SOB, HE was not impressed with ME. Who did he think he was? That two-bit clerk! Wish I could show him my paycheck now. He would most certainly be impressed.
I finally got interviewed by a bunch of people who were as unconventional, as off beat and as crazy as me. I still work with them. Birds of the same feather do flock together – believe me – its better that way!
Wednesday, October 12, 2005
Then & Now
I was rummaging through some old stuff and I found a poem I had written half a dozen years back.
What on earth haven’t I got?
Body and mind both safe and loved
Happiness and comfort I have a lot
Why do I sit and lament?
But are only those enough
For my existence?
If a breathing corpse is what I want to be
I reckon they are just about ample for me
But if it is a human being that I aspire to be
What I need is confidence and dignity
But where do I shop for confidence?
What do I bargain for dignity?
What should I wear to be intelligent?
What make up would bring out my creativity
Not that I don’t have the above
They do exist deep down I me
But my fear,
My fear of failure
Just pushes them deeper and deeper inside of me
So frustrated and depressed
So impatient and restless
So dumb and worthless
Why do I feel?
My soul will die in this prison
My heart wouldn’t cry
My eyes wouldn’t shed a tear
I would mourn my own death….
I have to say that the poem is utterly desperate and cannot be considered an artistic master piece. But it speaks volumes of truth – about me, the state of mind I was in when I wrote it, my perception of life and my role in the whole scheme of things.
Most of my thoughts still remain the same but life has taught me a few important lessons and so my approach towards life and the way I look at things has changed drastically. I would not go over board and say that now I am optimistic and life is all rosy and beautiful. But yes, I have realized that it is only upto me to make my life beautiful or miserable. That everybody sails in a boat similar to mine. Everybody has a few good qualities and some flaws. Everybody feels incomplete deep down. Everybody becomes desperate and frustrated in life at some point. That I’m not alone.
Its not in what you feel that lies the essence of life, its in how you deal with those feelings, how you channel them, how you change your perception about yourself, your life and consequently of the world that you live in. It’s in realizing that you have been put down on earth for a purpose. You have to do a lot of soul searching to stumble upon that purpose – but try and you will discover yourself. That would be the day you accept your flaws and admire your own goodness and thank God for putting you down and giving you a chance to make a difference – no matter how small it may be.
That would be the day that you start living.
What on earth haven’t I got?
Body and mind both safe and loved
Happiness and comfort I have a lot
Why do I sit and lament?
But are only those enough
For my existence?
If a breathing corpse is what I want to be
I reckon they are just about ample for me
But if it is a human being that I aspire to be
What I need is confidence and dignity
But where do I shop for confidence?
What do I bargain for dignity?
What should I wear to be intelligent?
What make up would bring out my creativity
Not that I don’t have the above
They do exist deep down I me
But my fear,
My fear of failure
Just pushes them deeper and deeper inside of me
So frustrated and depressed
So impatient and restless
So dumb and worthless
Why do I feel?
My soul will die in this prison
My heart wouldn’t cry
My eyes wouldn’t shed a tear
I would mourn my own death….
I have to say that the poem is utterly desperate and cannot be considered an artistic master piece. But it speaks volumes of truth – about me, the state of mind I was in when I wrote it, my perception of life and my role in the whole scheme of things.
Most of my thoughts still remain the same but life has taught me a few important lessons and so my approach towards life and the way I look at things has changed drastically. I would not go over board and say that now I am optimistic and life is all rosy and beautiful. But yes, I have realized that it is only upto me to make my life beautiful or miserable. That everybody sails in a boat similar to mine. Everybody has a few good qualities and some flaws. Everybody feels incomplete deep down. Everybody becomes desperate and frustrated in life at some point. That I’m not alone.
Its not in what you feel that lies the essence of life, its in how you deal with those feelings, how you channel them, how you change your perception about yourself, your life and consequently of the world that you live in. It’s in realizing that you have been put down on earth for a purpose. You have to do a lot of soul searching to stumble upon that purpose – but try and you will discover yourself. That would be the day you accept your flaws and admire your own goodness and thank God for putting you down and giving you a chance to make a difference – no matter how small it may be.
That would be the day that you start living.
Monday, October 10, 2005
DOSTI KA NAAM ZINDAGI
“Aye yaar sun, yaari teri mujhe apne jaan se bhi pyaari hai……….”
“Ye dosti, hum nahi todenge, chodenge dum magar, tera saath na todenge….”
“I’ll be there for you…..”
Numerous songs and sonnets on friendship. All those sentimental friendship SMSs which keep getting forwarded around the world, the most popular one being “A friend is one who sees your first tear, wipes the second and makes sure that the third one does not come out.”
Is friendship over rated or is it really worth all the hype and attention that is getting … now with Friendship day, Buddy day and what not????
I am an extrovert to the world because I can endlessly yap to anyone regardless of the who they are, how well I know them, whether we have anything in common or not….. But people who know me have seen the real me.. a person who is shy to commit to a relation. I am a great believer of the theory that it is better to have loved and lost than not to have loved at all. But I have also in this short life span been through a couple of really painful relationships, relations where I had invested all of myself and then came up with negative returns on my investment. That taught me a lesson.. that when you invest in friendship consider book your losses immediately because no matter what happens in the end you will end up getting hurt…. See the inevitable thing in friendship is that the cliché ending of “and they all lived happily ever after…” never happens because that just is not an option. You cannot spend the rest of your life with your friend/(s). What about marriage? What about starting a family? What about globetrotting for career growth? What about your life? It’s fancy and melodramatic to say “Dosti ka naam zindagi, zindagi ka naam dosti!” But does it actually apply verbatim in today’s fast world?
Moving from Mumbai was tough for me. Away from family and more than that from a dear friend was heart wrenching for me. I knew my family would visit me regularly and in due course of time I would get over missing them very badly. But Neha, how would I get over her. She had become an inseparable part of my life and indeed my own self. She loved me, she cared for me, and she didn’t put up with any of my nonsense. She was the first person outside my family who had seen me cry, who had felt my inner pain without me saying a word. How could I live without her? I knew I would survive but things just won’t be the same anymore. I was leaving a part of me behind.
But God had his plans, I guess……..
I met Veda here, a woman older and wiser than me in age and experience who filled in the gaping hole in my heart and took position both as family and friend. She pampered me, adored me, disciplined me, fought with me, helped me get over the jitters of even considering marriage. Over time she became so important to me that I was at times even ignoring family over her. I either avoided or shortened my official trips as I could not bear to be apart from her. I stayed late at office just so that I could bid her goodbye. I would stay back at weekends pining to see her even if it was for just half an hour, which was all I would get most of the time. At office, we had become a trademark couple. People rarely saw either of us alone. Coffee, lunch, staff gatherings… u name it and we were a together. If either of us were not in our own seats, calls would go to each others desks as that is where we invariably would be. People in office may have gone to such lengths so as to think that we are lesbians… even I doubted that at times. Things with her were not always like a sweet honeymoon. We had our fights. She was too emotional about certain things, she would take offence too quickly, she would for days together finger me the wrong way for something that I may have been a part of..but was certainly not my fault. Many at times I was also to blame. She either didn’t realize or pretended to overlook how important she had become to me. There were times when I felt jealously over possessive about her, especially when it came to she spending more time with her brother and my time with her being curtailed according to his convenience and schedule. I never said that to her. In fact I never said a lot of things to her. She may have guessed …..or not.. I never knew. But I just couldn’t bring myself to say all these things I felt to her…simply because I feared losing her.. I knew we would not be in each others lives too long.. I just didn’t want our time together to end sooner than it was supposed to.
But doesn’t friendship warrant openness and honesty? Isn’t true friendship supposed to withstand all the tests of time?
What exactly is friendship? Is it just people of the same age group hanging out together? Is it a group of like-minded people sharing their common interests? Is it just a name given to a transient phase in life where we meet somebody and enjoy his or her company for a short while and then move on with our lives? Is it something like marriage but platonic?
Is it, to me, all the above and more… much more. It is a relation between two people, whose sacredness, purity and strength is maybe surpassed only by the bond of the umbilical cord.
It involves being in a relationship selflessly without expecting anything in return. In fact, if you ask me friendship falls can be fit into the traditional universally accepted meaning of love sans the sexual gratification or any expectation thereof. In a way, this very fact makes friendship better and more long lasting than “love”. In love a consummation of the relationship is expected, but in friendship, the very existence of the relationship is its consummation.
I have endless questions about what friendship really is? How is it supposed to affect me? What am I supposed to do to keep a friendship going? How do you say goodbye to a friend? I am on a quest to unearth the answers to these questions…….
But, nevertheless, I have been lucky to have a couple of really good friends who have stood by me through thick and thin. I know that despite all our differences of opinion and all those tiffs and miffs I could turn around in the times of both joy and despair and they will be there sharing and partaking both. I know that we will all go our separate ways, we may lose touch with each other, we may forget the important things in each others lives…..but at the end of it all, I know and feel that I have been blessed just to have known them…..
“Ye dosti, hum nahi todenge, chodenge dum magar, tera saath na todenge….”
“I’ll be there for you…..”
Numerous songs and sonnets on friendship. All those sentimental friendship SMSs which keep getting forwarded around the world, the most popular one being “A friend is one who sees your first tear, wipes the second and makes sure that the third one does not come out.”
Is friendship over rated or is it really worth all the hype and attention that is getting … now with Friendship day, Buddy day and what not????
I am an extrovert to the world because I can endlessly yap to anyone regardless of the who they are, how well I know them, whether we have anything in common or not….. But people who know me have seen the real me.. a person who is shy to commit to a relation. I am a great believer of the theory that it is better to have loved and lost than not to have loved at all. But I have also in this short life span been through a couple of really painful relationships, relations where I had invested all of myself and then came up with negative returns on my investment. That taught me a lesson.. that when you invest in friendship consider book your losses immediately because no matter what happens in the end you will end up getting hurt…. See the inevitable thing in friendship is that the cliché ending of “and they all lived happily ever after…” never happens because that just is not an option. You cannot spend the rest of your life with your friend/(s). What about marriage? What about starting a family? What about globetrotting for career growth? What about your life? It’s fancy and melodramatic to say “Dosti ka naam zindagi, zindagi ka naam dosti!” But does it actually apply verbatim in today’s fast world?
Moving from Mumbai was tough for me. Away from family and more than that from a dear friend was heart wrenching for me. I knew my family would visit me regularly and in due course of time I would get over missing them very badly. But Neha, how would I get over her. She had become an inseparable part of my life and indeed my own self. She loved me, she cared for me, and she didn’t put up with any of my nonsense. She was the first person outside my family who had seen me cry, who had felt my inner pain without me saying a word. How could I live without her? I knew I would survive but things just won’t be the same anymore. I was leaving a part of me behind.
But God had his plans, I guess……..
I met Veda here, a woman older and wiser than me in age and experience who filled in the gaping hole in my heart and took position both as family and friend. She pampered me, adored me, disciplined me, fought with me, helped me get over the jitters of even considering marriage. Over time she became so important to me that I was at times even ignoring family over her. I either avoided or shortened my official trips as I could not bear to be apart from her. I stayed late at office just so that I could bid her goodbye. I would stay back at weekends pining to see her even if it was for just half an hour, which was all I would get most of the time. At office, we had become a trademark couple. People rarely saw either of us alone. Coffee, lunch, staff gatherings… u name it and we were a together. If either of us were not in our own seats, calls would go to each others desks as that is where we invariably would be. People in office may have gone to such lengths so as to think that we are lesbians… even I doubted that at times. Things with her were not always like a sweet honeymoon. We had our fights. She was too emotional about certain things, she would take offence too quickly, she would for days together finger me the wrong way for something that I may have been a part of..but was certainly not my fault. Many at times I was also to blame. She either didn’t realize or pretended to overlook how important she had become to me. There were times when I felt jealously over possessive about her, especially when it came to she spending more time with her brother and my time with her being curtailed according to his convenience and schedule. I never said that to her. In fact I never said a lot of things to her. She may have guessed …..or not.. I never knew. But I just couldn’t bring myself to say all these things I felt to her…simply because I feared losing her.. I knew we would not be in each others lives too long.. I just didn’t want our time together to end sooner than it was supposed to.
But doesn’t friendship warrant openness and honesty? Isn’t true friendship supposed to withstand all the tests of time?
What exactly is friendship? Is it just people of the same age group hanging out together? Is it a group of like-minded people sharing their common interests? Is it just a name given to a transient phase in life where we meet somebody and enjoy his or her company for a short while and then move on with our lives? Is it something like marriage but platonic?
Is it, to me, all the above and more… much more. It is a relation between two people, whose sacredness, purity and strength is maybe surpassed only by the bond of the umbilical cord.
It involves being in a relationship selflessly without expecting anything in return. In fact, if you ask me friendship falls can be fit into the traditional universally accepted meaning of love sans the sexual gratification or any expectation thereof. In a way, this very fact makes friendship better and more long lasting than “love”. In love a consummation of the relationship is expected, but in friendship, the very existence of the relationship is its consummation.
I have endless questions about what friendship really is? How is it supposed to affect me? What am I supposed to do to keep a friendship going? How do you say goodbye to a friend? I am on a quest to unearth the answers to these questions…….
But, nevertheless, I have been lucky to have a couple of really good friends who have stood by me through thick and thin. I know that despite all our differences of opinion and all those tiffs and miffs I could turn around in the times of both joy and despair and they will be there sharing and partaking both. I know that we will all go our separate ways, we may lose touch with each other, we may forget the important things in each others lives…..but at the end of it all, I know and feel that I have been blessed just to have known them…..
Wednesday, October 05, 2005
33 & 1/3rd for me
I am a woman. That’s not a self-convincing statement, that’s just a statement of fact. Biologically, that’s what I am and I have been accepted as one socially too. Except for a couple of occasions on local buses where I was told to get off the ladies seat as I was hogging them and a few instances where my girl friends (friends who belong to the fairer sex – whatever that means) parents got reports that their daughters were spotted with a stocky guy with shaggy hair.
Ok, so I’m a bit tomboyish. I walk with a stagger, don’t have an ounce of the famed feminine shyness, am totally colour blind (women are supposed to differentiate beige from pastel – both are shades of light colour, Im told), I love talking about sex, I forget to zip up my jeans once in a while, I scratch my crotch in public… all those obnoxious things that guys are supposed to do, I do them (except for smoking and drinking – these are plain stupid).
I have always believed that girls and guys feel almost the same things at approximately the same age. It’s just a matter of the social perimeter, which encages us that differentiates the behaviour of the opposite sexes. You think that if a fat girl wears a tight pair of pants the zip does not slide down because the zip is aware of the wearers feminity. You think that the crotch of a girl is a tension free and scratch proof area… you are grossly wrong. You think a woman never farts, think again. You think a woman always smells of fresh flowers, tell the summer sun to be partial to the fairer sex and then maybe the theory will be true. And who ever still says that women are the fairer sex. Isn’t there a beauty cream called “Fair and Handsome” for men. You think a woman does not think about sex, believe me they think about it from the time puberty sets in.. infact for a short period that’s all what they think of. So you see, when it comes to gross stuff girls compete very strongly and sometimes hold an edge over guys.
Similarly when it comes to sensitive behaviour typically associated with women, todays men are not to be left far behind. There is a new breed of men called metro sexuals, they cry openly, they are not scared to show emotion publicly (some times that’s plain embarrassing), they spend a good part of their routine grooming and looking good, they some times even genuinely care.
So things are finally the way God wants them to be (I suppose). Men and women have started realizing that the only thing that actually separates them is a piece of flesh placed in separate parts of the body. They are sharing responsibilities, there are egos being put to rest, expectations are being tempered, people are actually coming to their senses. And amidst all this, are we as a country declaring 33 and 1/3rd reservation for women?? Why on earth would we want to do that? I do understand the fact that India still has a lot of places where women are under valued, places where female infanticide and feoticide is common, places where young girls are not sent to school, places where girls are married off at tender ages of 10 and below. I get all that, but aren’t we a country that’s just about 60 years young. What we have achieved in these 60 years is remarkable if we consider the main fact that, we are a democratic country and no matter how misused, we have maintained that that’s what we want to be.
In such a situation is it right on our part to encourage the division of the society on the basis of sex, religion, caste etc. Aren’t we above these petty issues? Isn’t it apparent that if a person has the goods to be at the top of the game, they will be, no matter what their gender is or religion is or caste is. And if a person doesn’t make it out in the world then maybe they are just not cut out for it. Do we want an unqualified person operating on us just because he got an MBBS on the merit of being born in a particular section of the society, do we want a person who knows nothing about the cement to sand ratio building bridges for us, just because he belongs to a protected religion? Then we definitely do not want a woman who knows nothing about politics or policies for that matter ruling over us as mayors, MPs, PMs etc.
Do something only if you are capable of doing it and not because someone handed it over to you in a silver platter and convinced you that you can’t do it on your own. Reservation for women is by far the most degrading of all government policies because it encourages us to be equal to men by protecting us and by making sure we know that we are weak and cannot make it on our own. And the saddest part is most women support this reservation…So much for self will and standing up on your own feet.
Ok, so I’m a bit tomboyish. I walk with a stagger, don’t have an ounce of the famed feminine shyness, am totally colour blind (women are supposed to differentiate beige from pastel – both are shades of light colour, Im told), I love talking about sex, I forget to zip up my jeans once in a while, I scratch my crotch in public… all those obnoxious things that guys are supposed to do, I do them (except for smoking and drinking – these are plain stupid).
I have always believed that girls and guys feel almost the same things at approximately the same age. It’s just a matter of the social perimeter, which encages us that differentiates the behaviour of the opposite sexes. You think that if a fat girl wears a tight pair of pants the zip does not slide down because the zip is aware of the wearers feminity. You think that the crotch of a girl is a tension free and scratch proof area… you are grossly wrong. You think a woman never farts, think again. You think a woman always smells of fresh flowers, tell the summer sun to be partial to the fairer sex and then maybe the theory will be true. And who ever still says that women are the fairer sex. Isn’t there a beauty cream called “Fair and Handsome” for men. You think a woman does not think about sex, believe me they think about it from the time puberty sets in.. infact for a short period that’s all what they think of. So you see, when it comes to gross stuff girls compete very strongly and sometimes hold an edge over guys.
Similarly when it comes to sensitive behaviour typically associated with women, todays men are not to be left far behind. There is a new breed of men called metro sexuals, they cry openly, they are not scared to show emotion publicly (some times that’s plain embarrassing), they spend a good part of their routine grooming and looking good, they some times even genuinely care.
So things are finally the way God wants them to be (I suppose). Men and women have started realizing that the only thing that actually separates them is a piece of flesh placed in separate parts of the body. They are sharing responsibilities, there are egos being put to rest, expectations are being tempered, people are actually coming to their senses. And amidst all this, are we as a country declaring 33 and 1/3rd reservation for women?? Why on earth would we want to do that? I do understand the fact that India still has a lot of places where women are under valued, places where female infanticide and feoticide is common, places where young girls are not sent to school, places where girls are married off at tender ages of 10 and below. I get all that, but aren’t we a country that’s just about 60 years young. What we have achieved in these 60 years is remarkable if we consider the main fact that, we are a democratic country and no matter how misused, we have maintained that that’s what we want to be.
In such a situation is it right on our part to encourage the division of the society on the basis of sex, religion, caste etc. Aren’t we above these petty issues? Isn’t it apparent that if a person has the goods to be at the top of the game, they will be, no matter what their gender is or religion is or caste is. And if a person doesn’t make it out in the world then maybe they are just not cut out for it. Do we want an unqualified person operating on us just because he got an MBBS on the merit of being born in a particular section of the society, do we want a person who knows nothing about the cement to sand ratio building bridges for us, just because he belongs to a protected religion? Then we definitely do not want a woman who knows nothing about politics or policies for that matter ruling over us as mayors, MPs, PMs etc.
Do something only if you are capable of doing it and not because someone handed it over to you in a silver platter and convinced you that you can’t do it on your own. Reservation for women is by far the most degrading of all government policies because it encourages us to be equal to men by protecting us and by making sure we know that we are weak and cannot make it on our own. And the saddest part is most women support this reservation…So much for self will and standing up on your own feet.
TRUCE AT LAST
I didn’t hate him anymore..I think so. We have fought our silent wars and now both of us have matured.. we have wizened and the reasons that mooted the rivalry seemed trivial.
I had been working as an auditor for about an year. It was my first corporate job and I was just getting the hang of things, corporate politics and above all my job… of all the things in life I never though I would end up as an auditor.. Oh! How I hated auditing!!!!
The chief of our zone had been replaced – this is the guy to whom I address my audit reports. The new guy is some one I have known in the past, he was second in command in another zone. I knew him to be a levelheaded guy and a good decision maker. Our zone was in deep shit and I was sure that if anybody could get us out of this mess, this was the guy..
So it came as a shock, when the first statement he spoke to me was that “I think your work and your department as a whole is a waste of time and resources. I can stand and proclaim the same from any roof top”. How dare he!! That arrogant prick! I fought back my tears. I reasoned with my self, all those self motivation, zero stress theories swamped my head “ when the going gets tough, the tough gets going”, “this is the dog eat dog corporate world”, “don’t let such people get to you”. I had to talk to some one…my Boss. I called him up and went at it for about half an hour… I let loose all my feelings and my Boss patiently listened. At the end of the conversation he chuckled. I was really mad now. Here I was pouring out my frustration to him and he laughs!!!! Then he tells me “I was just imagining the chief on a roof top – that is the best place for him, that’s where you normally find monkeys!” I burst out laughing.. I certainly did not think of some thing like that…..
So that is what he symbolized for me .. an educated ape with an ego the size of the Pacific!
Things at office began to change, drastic changes were made, I heard the good things, I saw the bad events. My colleagues spilled their guts out to me, my shoulder was always readily available for them to weep off office miseries. There were stories of him being rude, sarcastic… that’s what he did his masters in, I’m sure. But the zone was improving.. we could see the changes, sales were up, revenues were inching north, the company’s reputation was improving… he was as I had thought good for the business..very good indeed. I was happy that I was an excellent judge of character.. but God I still hated him.
As per company tradition, birthday boys and girls get a bouquet, cut a cake and then get pasted brutally. It was my birthday. Chief offered me a bouquet and sarcastically asked me “Will you accept this from me?” I shot back “ I don’t seem to get any responses for my audit reports from you, so hell why not, I will take the flowers from you”. The cake was being cut. He invited me to do the honours. I accepted on the condition that I get the biggest piece. He remarked, “Your size demands a big piece”, I retorted, “By that logic, you shouldn’t get any”…. Seems like teenagers fighting.. but that’s me and the Chief.
Then one day, inspiration stuck me and I wrote down a real life incident and sent it to a friend for review. She forwarded it to Chief and a whole bunch of other people. I receive an unexpected call from Chief. He actually read the article. He calls me and says “that’s one of the best pieces of writing I have read in quite a long time”. Oh well! The big man read my article and liked it. He even mentioned it to the entire staff in one of the gatherings.
I’m sure deep down both of us will continue feeling the way we did the first time we met each other and nothing will ever erase the image of him hanging off the rooftop and thumping in chest in blatant proclamation of the futility of my existence. But, hey we have moved on…. After all how long can I stay mad at my fan???!!!
I had been working as an auditor for about an year. It was my first corporate job and I was just getting the hang of things, corporate politics and above all my job… of all the things in life I never though I would end up as an auditor.. Oh! How I hated auditing!!!!
The chief of our zone had been replaced – this is the guy to whom I address my audit reports. The new guy is some one I have known in the past, he was second in command in another zone. I knew him to be a levelheaded guy and a good decision maker. Our zone was in deep shit and I was sure that if anybody could get us out of this mess, this was the guy..
So it came as a shock, when the first statement he spoke to me was that “I think your work and your department as a whole is a waste of time and resources. I can stand and proclaim the same from any roof top”. How dare he!! That arrogant prick! I fought back my tears. I reasoned with my self, all those self motivation, zero stress theories swamped my head “ when the going gets tough, the tough gets going”, “this is the dog eat dog corporate world”, “don’t let such people get to you”. I had to talk to some one…my Boss. I called him up and went at it for about half an hour… I let loose all my feelings and my Boss patiently listened. At the end of the conversation he chuckled. I was really mad now. Here I was pouring out my frustration to him and he laughs!!!! Then he tells me “I was just imagining the chief on a roof top – that is the best place for him, that’s where you normally find monkeys!” I burst out laughing.. I certainly did not think of some thing like that…..
So that is what he symbolized for me .. an educated ape with an ego the size of the Pacific!
Things at office began to change, drastic changes were made, I heard the good things, I saw the bad events. My colleagues spilled their guts out to me, my shoulder was always readily available for them to weep off office miseries. There were stories of him being rude, sarcastic… that’s what he did his masters in, I’m sure. But the zone was improving.. we could see the changes, sales were up, revenues were inching north, the company’s reputation was improving… he was as I had thought good for the business..very good indeed. I was happy that I was an excellent judge of character.. but God I still hated him.
As per company tradition, birthday boys and girls get a bouquet, cut a cake and then get pasted brutally. It was my birthday. Chief offered me a bouquet and sarcastically asked me “Will you accept this from me?” I shot back “ I don’t seem to get any responses for my audit reports from you, so hell why not, I will take the flowers from you”. The cake was being cut. He invited me to do the honours. I accepted on the condition that I get the biggest piece. He remarked, “Your size demands a big piece”, I retorted, “By that logic, you shouldn’t get any”…. Seems like teenagers fighting.. but that’s me and the Chief.
Then one day, inspiration stuck me and I wrote down a real life incident and sent it to a friend for review. She forwarded it to Chief and a whole bunch of other people. I receive an unexpected call from Chief. He actually read the article. He calls me and says “that’s one of the best pieces of writing I have read in quite a long time”. Oh well! The big man read my article and liked it. He even mentioned it to the entire staff in one of the gatherings.
I’m sure deep down both of us will continue feeling the way we did the first time we met each other and nothing will ever erase the image of him hanging off the rooftop and thumping in chest in blatant proclamation of the futility of my existence. But, hey we have moved on…. After all how long can I stay mad at my fan???!!!
THE GATEKEEPER
Her fingers had just started delving into her lunch and she hears Apputty call out from inside. Gouri sighs, shakes her hand free of food and gets up from the table. Her knees groan in agony. She is 70, not a young age by any standards. She limps towards the wash basin and in the same topsy turvy walk hurries towards the bedroom hoping that she was not too late. She was indeed too late…Apputty had wet her bed.. It was not the first time and it certainly was not going to be the last. So Gouri went about business in a nonchalant manner. She changed the “mundu” that Apputty was wearing and wearily changed the sheets. By the time she was done her back was aching and she had forgotten all about lunch. She went back into the kitchen and saw her untouched lunch on the table. She put a lid on it and walked off to the porch of the house and sat down. Her tired eyes glazed over…….
Its been more than 3 years since Apputty was totally bed ridden. She was 89. She was Gouri’s aunt. She was one of the assets that Gouri inherited when their ancestral home was being partitioned. She had always been an important part of the family. Every one always said that she was healthier than three generations put together that is until the fateful day she fell. That did it.. Apputty never got up.. she was scared. She was still physically healthy..all her senses functioned perfectly, she ate well and she slept well, but psychologically she was cuckoos. Gouri had been imprisoned in the house since that day.. she could not go anywhere, she could not meet anyone, she could not partake in any family events. Her life had become an endless session of bedpans, wet beds, feedings and midnight awakenings by Apputtys blood curling screams after her nightmares. She also had to constantly put up with complaints that she was not looking after her well enough….
Life certainly had not been a bed of roses since the death of her husband nearly 25 years ago.. but she had managed.. she had put her kids through college, got them married off, tried to get them settled…
Her son was in Daman. Struggling to make ends meet..could not come back home.. he had shamed the family.. he had created debts that the family was still trying to pay off…
At least her daughters were doing well, she thought with a smile… and then a frown creased her forehead..
One of her daughters was divorced, grossly overweight, a compulsive obsessive workaholic with a daughter who could not be exactly classified as normal.. Gouri just wished that she would not live to see the day her grand daughter would be weeping on her moms funeral… that anyway seemed imminent to happen…
Her other daughter had a hobby of collecting all the tensions in the world and then worrying herself to death. But she was still better of the lot.
Wasn’t this the period in life that one was supposed to enjoy with grandchildren.. where was that period of her life.. will she ever see it or enjoy it fully? She knew that if only Apputty ceased to be a shackle in her life… she regretted the thought the moment it entered her mind. How could she think like that??? Had she become like the rest of the world.. cold and heartless.. Had she forgotten that this was the same woman who had cared for her as a child, for her children after her and than for her grandchildren… that this was the same woman who had done the work of 4 people single handedly, that this was the same woman who cried every time something happened to Gouri, that this was the same woman who most probably prayed to God every night to end her life so that Gouri could get on with hers…
Gouri is woken from her reverie by the creaking of the gate. A boy strides very authoritatively into the courtyard… Gouri could not make out the young guy. He had a small carry bag in his hand.. Gouri squinted into the sunlight…She was shocked.. it was her elder grand daughter.. she had come to visit from Coimbatore. What had the girl done to her hair!! Gouri felt tears prick her eyes.. “Ammamma” shouted her granddaughter and Gouri’s world just came alive…she was indeed spending time with her grandkids… life was still beautiful… yes, there were problems but who didn’t have them.. her immediate concerns were transformed.. what to cook for lunch.. what was her favourite??? Renu hugged her grandma so tightly that her frail figure would have broken… Gouri did not mind…once in a while the gates of her lonely life would open to let in a flood of happiness…her life was still beautiful…
Its been more than 3 years since Apputty was totally bed ridden. She was 89. She was Gouri’s aunt. She was one of the assets that Gouri inherited when their ancestral home was being partitioned. She had always been an important part of the family. Every one always said that she was healthier than three generations put together that is until the fateful day she fell. That did it.. Apputty never got up.. she was scared. She was still physically healthy..all her senses functioned perfectly, she ate well and she slept well, but psychologically she was cuckoos. Gouri had been imprisoned in the house since that day.. she could not go anywhere, she could not meet anyone, she could not partake in any family events. Her life had become an endless session of bedpans, wet beds, feedings and midnight awakenings by Apputtys blood curling screams after her nightmares. She also had to constantly put up with complaints that she was not looking after her well enough….
Life certainly had not been a bed of roses since the death of her husband nearly 25 years ago.. but she had managed.. she had put her kids through college, got them married off, tried to get them settled…
Her son was in Daman. Struggling to make ends meet..could not come back home.. he had shamed the family.. he had created debts that the family was still trying to pay off…
At least her daughters were doing well, she thought with a smile… and then a frown creased her forehead..
One of her daughters was divorced, grossly overweight, a compulsive obsessive workaholic with a daughter who could not be exactly classified as normal.. Gouri just wished that she would not live to see the day her grand daughter would be weeping on her moms funeral… that anyway seemed imminent to happen…
Her other daughter had a hobby of collecting all the tensions in the world and then worrying herself to death. But she was still better of the lot.
Wasn’t this the period in life that one was supposed to enjoy with grandchildren.. where was that period of her life.. will she ever see it or enjoy it fully? She knew that if only Apputty ceased to be a shackle in her life… she regretted the thought the moment it entered her mind. How could she think like that??? Had she become like the rest of the world.. cold and heartless.. Had she forgotten that this was the same woman who had cared for her as a child, for her children after her and than for her grandchildren… that this was the same woman who had done the work of 4 people single handedly, that this was the same woman who cried every time something happened to Gouri, that this was the same woman who most probably prayed to God every night to end her life so that Gouri could get on with hers…
Gouri is woken from her reverie by the creaking of the gate. A boy strides very authoritatively into the courtyard… Gouri could not make out the young guy. He had a small carry bag in his hand.. Gouri squinted into the sunlight…She was shocked.. it was her elder grand daughter.. she had come to visit from Coimbatore. What had the girl done to her hair!! Gouri felt tears prick her eyes.. “Ammamma” shouted her granddaughter and Gouri’s world just came alive…she was indeed spending time with her grandkids… life was still beautiful… yes, there were problems but who didn’t have them.. her immediate concerns were transformed.. what to cook for lunch.. what was her favourite??? Renu hugged her grandma so tightly that her frail figure would have broken… Gouri did not mind…once in a while the gates of her lonely life would open to let in a flood of happiness…her life was still beautiful…
Friday, September 30, 2005
TYPICAL TAMIL FOLK
I felt a trickle of sweat travel slowly from the soft spot behind my right knee to my ankle as if with some divine purpose. My shirt top was stuck to my skin. I was regretting my decision to wear my cotton pants. To top it all, the Mangalore – Coimbatore passenger was moving at such an unbearably slow pace that life, I felt, could not get any more miserable.
What’s so miserable in traveling in a passenger train from Shornur to Coimbatore, you ask. Nothing, under normal circumstances. But these are not normal circumstances – these involve me. I am one of those few people on earth who love wallowing in self-pity, which is buttressed by a uniquely strong sense of pessimism. I am someone who thinks that I am overblessed with every thing in life, and hence do not deserve any of the gifts of life like a warm loving home, excellent education, a salary to kill for and two friends who would do anything for me.
Sleep refused to oblige me and I was beat. I started observing the fellow passengers. On my right hand side was a young girl – sleeping beauty. To my left, a fat Muslim lady with 2 kids – surprisingly silent. On the opposite side were what I considered “typical tamil folk” - black, over dressed with no sense of cleanliness what so ever and a kid whose nose kept running. Oh! The misery continues.. what esteemed company!
Come Palakkad and there was a welcome change of scenario. I shift next to my mom, a few seats behind. What seemed a second back like a comparatively empty cubicle was suddenly crowded – we were 5 on each opposing seat and these were also specimen earlier described as “typical tamil folk”. Oh Boy! This just keeps getting better and better. There was something under the seat brushing against my feet, some kind of basket. Shit! 6 of the 8 people apparently knew each other well, some kind of train friends (I thought that this species of women was restricted only to the local trains of Mumbai. Obviously I was wrong!). One of the others left shortly and one of them seemed to have got sucked into the band of friendship, that was forged between the six.
They started speaking in the loudest most obnoxious manner about what I expected “sapad”. My God! Don’t they have any other topic than this.. such low IQ levels and such sub standard people……
I was trying so hard not to listen to the conversation that I was actually paying a lot of attention to it…
“I come home and the entire house is a mess…. My son tells me – u don’t interfere in this mom, my friends were here … what do I do? He would be happy if I were to stay in my quarters”……
“ I am doing a double shift today.. just reached home from the morning shift at 3 in the after noon and here I am going back for the night shift”…
“his friends are too many ….but they are good kids, that’s a relief”…”
“paavam ponnu, let her sleep at least for an hour” all of them helped the girl up to the “luggage only” shaft above the seat…”nee toong ma.. we will call u at Coimbatore”.
I was surprised; I was actually getting interested in the conversation. Mom started talking to the woman next to us, turns out she and the rest of her family work in the Indian railways.. they are 5 sisters..the one sitting opposite to us is one of them, the girl next to her, is her niece.. teaches computers and Hindi at a local school (surprising, I didn’t know that Hindi was taught in Tamil Nadu), stays close to the station, reaches home by 8.00 at night and has to leave the house at 3:00 am for the next shift (when does she sleep? Where does she get the energy to be so bubbly?)… the girl gets up to get something to eat. We, who are totally out of the entire conversation are offered a bite.. we are forced to take our share.. we are offered water after the snack (why are these people so kind to strangers???)
They enquire about us.. when we say that we are from Mumbai …. their eyes open wide with astonishment.. “Is Mumbai a big city?” (such innocence still exists?).. they ask whether we were harmed by the recent floods (why do they care so much???).
They ask about where I live in Coimbatore and where I work…they are worried I might not be able to afford my locality – the most posh area in Coimbatore.. Mom tells them my salary and they are flabbergasted…I earn every month what they cumulatively earn maybe in half a year…I’m embarrassed… but they tell me…”we get pension..we are government employees…you work in a private company.. save all you can now.. you will not get pension” (after knowing the size of my salary they are still worried about me! Are these human beings? Aren’t they jealous???)
There was pookariamma who stays near chinna radio station. Her name is Malli amma.. but every one calls her pookariamma… she goes thrice a week to Kozhikode to sell flowers… that disgusting thing that I stamped and pushed below my seat were her means of livelihood… I whimper and moan to travel a short comfortable journey just because I have to carry a suitcase and a laptop!! And this woman travels from Coimbatore to Calicut to sell flowers!!! They spoke fairly good Malayalam and we spoke pathetic Tamil….Didn’t know when Poddanur arrived..
I was blessed by these people …. Literally.
God blessed me by allowing me to spend an hour of my life with human beings who still care, who are energetic about life, who know to laugh, who are optimistic, who shower affection without condition, who bless from the heart…I was blessed in the company of “typical Tamil folk”!
What’s so miserable in traveling in a passenger train from Shornur to Coimbatore, you ask. Nothing, under normal circumstances. But these are not normal circumstances – these involve me. I am one of those few people on earth who love wallowing in self-pity, which is buttressed by a uniquely strong sense of pessimism. I am someone who thinks that I am overblessed with every thing in life, and hence do not deserve any of the gifts of life like a warm loving home, excellent education, a salary to kill for and two friends who would do anything for me.
Sleep refused to oblige me and I was beat. I started observing the fellow passengers. On my right hand side was a young girl – sleeping beauty. To my left, a fat Muslim lady with 2 kids – surprisingly silent. On the opposite side were what I considered “typical tamil folk” - black, over dressed with no sense of cleanliness what so ever and a kid whose nose kept running. Oh! The misery continues.. what esteemed company!
Come Palakkad and there was a welcome change of scenario. I shift next to my mom, a few seats behind. What seemed a second back like a comparatively empty cubicle was suddenly crowded – we were 5 on each opposing seat and these were also specimen earlier described as “typical tamil folk”. Oh Boy! This just keeps getting better and better. There was something under the seat brushing against my feet, some kind of basket. Shit! 6 of the 8 people apparently knew each other well, some kind of train friends (I thought that this species of women was restricted only to the local trains of Mumbai. Obviously I was wrong!). One of the others left shortly and one of them seemed to have got sucked into the band of friendship, that was forged between the six.
They started speaking in the loudest most obnoxious manner about what I expected “sapad”. My God! Don’t they have any other topic than this.. such low IQ levels and such sub standard people……
I was trying so hard not to listen to the conversation that I was actually paying a lot of attention to it…
“I come home and the entire house is a mess…. My son tells me – u don’t interfere in this mom, my friends were here … what do I do? He would be happy if I were to stay in my quarters”……
“ I am doing a double shift today.. just reached home from the morning shift at 3 in the after noon and here I am going back for the night shift”…
“his friends are too many ….but they are good kids, that’s a relief”…”
“paavam ponnu, let her sleep at least for an hour” all of them helped the girl up to the “luggage only” shaft above the seat…”nee toong ma.. we will call u at Coimbatore”.
I was surprised; I was actually getting interested in the conversation. Mom started talking to the woman next to us, turns out she and the rest of her family work in the Indian railways.. they are 5 sisters..the one sitting opposite to us is one of them, the girl next to her, is her niece.. teaches computers and Hindi at a local school (surprising, I didn’t know that Hindi was taught in Tamil Nadu), stays close to the station, reaches home by 8.00 at night and has to leave the house at 3:00 am for the next shift (when does she sleep? Where does she get the energy to be so bubbly?)… the girl gets up to get something to eat. We, who are totally out of the entire conversation are offered a bite.. we are forced to take our share.. we are offered water after the snack (why are these people so kind to strangers???)
They enquire about us.. when we say that we are from Mumbai …. their eyes open wide with astonishment.. “Is Mumbai a big city?” (such innocence still exists?).. they ask whether we were harmed by the recent floods (why do they care so much???).
They ask about where I live in Coimbatore and where I work…they are worried I might not be able to afford my locality – the most posh area in Coimbatore.. Mom tells them my salary and they are flabbergasted…I earn every month what they cumulatively earn maybe in half a year…I’m embarrassed… but they tell me…”we get pension..we are government employees…you work in a private company.. save all you can now.. you will not get pension” (after knowing the size of my salary they are still worried about me! Are these human beings? Aren’t they jealous???)
There was pookariamma who stays near chinna radio station. Her name is Malli amma.. but every one calls her pookariamma… she goes thrice a week to Kozhikode to sell flowers… that disgusting thing that I stamped and pushed below my seat were her means of livelihood… I whimper and moan to travel a short comfortable journey just because I have to carry a suitcase and a laptop!! And this woman travels from Coimbatore to Calicut to sell flowers!!! They spoke fairly good Malayalam and we spoke pathetic Tamil….Didn’t know when Poddanur arrived..
I was blessed by these people …. Literally.
God blessed me by allowing me to spend an hour of my life with human beings who still care, who are energetic about life, who know to laugh, who are optimistic, who shower affection without condition, who bless from the heart…I was blessed in the company of “typical Tamil folk”!
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About Me
- methinksthat
- Mumbai product - went around the world - got hitched and escaped from the Silicon city of India to the land of glamour and royalty - London. I write every time my heart stirs......