Alien in my own land

I went to the British Consulate in Amsterdam today to apply for a UK visa. I had a bunch of papers with me and was nervous about having missed out some important document and having to reschedule the appointment. Added to that the fact that they take your fingerprints and scan it to see if you are a terrorist!! Common man, I can’t even terrorise my roommate into doing the household chores, let alone hijacking an aircraft.

Anyway I reached the place on time and the treatment that I got there was well worth this article (as I am writing after a gap of nearly 3 months)

First, I was politely told to stand in a queue for registration. Then a fat security guard by the name of Myra came, gave me a pleasant smile, and explained the security measures to me. She took pride in her work but she did not make anyone there feel like a born criminal. After speaking to the people in line, I was called by Security Guard 2 (didn’t see his name). He opened my purse, checked everything and later put everything back in order and closed my purse. I was directed with my token number inside. After waiting for just about 15 minutes, I was called to the counter by a lady who greeted me a sunny smile. A lot of my nervousness melted away then and there. I handed over my documents to her and she examined them. She asked to see my Residence Permit, which was wedged in an uncanny position inside my wallet. She saw my struggle with my purse and soothed me, “Take your time. Don’t panic.” It was as if that was the encouragement my card needed to slip out from the slot that it was cosily stuck. I had applied for a one-year visa, fully knowing that a first timer would get the visa only for 6 months. She probably knew that too. Nevertheless, she undertook to check if I could be given a one-year visa, though both of us knew fully well that this was a futile effort. She scanned my fingerprints. I was told to wait for some time and then I was given back my passport upon which I paid the fees and came out smiling.

Compare this to the experience I had at the Dutch Embassy in Mumbai.

I reach at 8.50 for a 9.00 am appointment. There is a bunch of people waiting outside. We are told very rudely by a guard to stand out of the gates – do not enter the gates and do no lean on the cars. Remember – this is my own country. We are told, “you will be called at 10.00 am”. We wait outside for an hour. Then when we get inside the building, the guard stops us at the foyer and orders us, “Please vacate this area. I don’t want to see anyone around here. Go down and wait.” Either the Dutch Embassy is his father in law’s property or I looked like a beggar – am not sure which one was true. Anyway, we begrudgingly trudge down. There is a small park bench – the kind that seats 3 people right outside the building in the embassy compound. A man and his wife dare to sit down on it. No sooner had their bottoms touched the wood, the guard came jumping about, “I told you not to sit here, wait outside.” They are embarrassed and walk quietly outside. Finally at around 11.30 we are called upstairs where I waited for another hour before my number was summoned. The girl at the counter was barely out of her teens (at least she looked that way to me). She was made up in typical “Corporate” fashion. I felt like a humble yokel before her. She disdainfully took my papers, threw the unwanted ones in my direction. She asked for an itinerary. As my trip was being sponsored by my employer in Netherlands, I did not have an itinerary. I tried explaining it to her. She adamantly accused me of being careless in reading the instructions. “Madam”, she barked, “all this is clearly written in the mail we sent you”. “But I didn’t receive any mail from you”. “Don’t LIE, you did, but you didn’t read it. People like you, I don’t know what you think of yourselves”. I listened to this string of accusations and knew better than to try and correct her. “If you say so and that makes you happy, then so be it”, said I. She gave a look, which was perfect for a convicted thief who had been released from prison and was trying to find a job as a Finance Manager. I finally told her the name of my employer and the period of my stay and then realisation stuck that my visa fees have already been paid and I was there only as a formality. She realised her error but does she apologise? No!! She says in a tone no less disgracing than before, “Come tomorrow and collect your VISA”. I thank her and exit the building. My whole day was overshadowed by the behaviour she dealt out to me.

It was then that it stuck me. Here I was in a foreign country seeking VISA to a country which maybe the 2nd most probable spot in the world for a major terrorist attack - I was treated with dignity and was served with a smile. In my own country, my own land, I, an educated professional who was hired by a MNC abroad was made to feel like an undeserving dog, that too by my compatriot. Then we complain when someone calls people in Mumbai the least polite city in the world. I am a true blue Mumbaite and I am sorry to say that I agree.

Nache Mayuri

I visited my Mom's college the other day. Among other things the purpose of the visit was to catch a glimpse of "Nache Mayuri". That happens to be the commonly accepted nick name for the principal of the college. Very rarely do we see a consensus between teachers and students over a topic, but they were united in agreeing that this woman was the worst thing that could have happened to their college in a very long time.

One of the old education houses of Mumbai, this was a college which in some distant past represented the best quality education that was available in Mumbai. It was a privelege to be a part of the institution. The standards were very high and the norms were exceptionally strict. Founded by an almost illiterate Gujarati, who unlike others found value in education rather than money. There were stories about him walking on the campus on surprise visits and blasting both students and teachers equally for being negligent on their duties and responsibilities. This was almost 4 decades ago. Times change and so does the management. What the father built up from scratch was handed over in a silver platter to the son (educated apparently). Like most Gujaratis, he decided to make money. He turned his fathers vision, his Vidya Mandir, into one of the most lucrative units in the family business, perhaps more profitable than even the sugar business that they were traditionally into. Then started the demise of this institution. It became a college which was the last choice for average students and the first choice for below average students. The quality of the students and the consequent academic results fell to a new abyss.

As a perfect representative of this downfall was the advent of the regime of the new principal a couple of years back. She is one of the most distinctive characters that I have heard about in my life and hence the desire to acually see her. Let me describe her for you:

A MA in music which is a surprise when you consider that her voice is as hoarse as if perpetually suffering from sore throat.

A principals behaviour should be one that can be emulated by students and teachers alike. A far cry from that our principals character and behaviuor was such as would have shamed a reform school juvenile resident.

Her dress sense put to rest all kinds of efforts by the teaching staff to imbibe a sense of decency in the teenage female population of the college. She came in the tighest and the most revealing of costumes available. OK, you cannot lynch a person for having a pathetic sense of dressing.

That would still have been acceptable if she maintained an acceptable line of speech.

Her classic statements:

" You girls, going on dates and all... lets see where you land in 9 months" - this was told to girls after the festival of Navaratri and a night of garba dancing.

" I went to shit as soon as I heard of the excellent results of our college. Most people get emotional when they hear good news, I feel like shitting" - This was in a staff meeting (all staff included) after the class 12th results were declared.

"You girls think you are pretty, Im prettier than all of you". - This is generally once in a day comment.

Her daily roster of duties:

Sweeping the floor of the college - We do have Class IV employyes for that.

Fighting with all teachers over the most petty matters available - That too at the top of that really sweet voice of hers.

Intruding class room lectures and inconveniencing teachers and embarassing students - She now a days says "excuse me" before intruding. At least things are better now.

Her favourite passtimes:

Arguing with the college sweeper - Raajkumari. Many accept that the only person in the college who is well suited for the principal is the sweeper. Their attitudes and temperaments seem to be almost the same and the jobs that they do are quite interchangable.

Chasing guys who whistle at her. (for obvious reasons)

Sometimes pinning guys to the wall and kicking them with her knees on their groins - quite a filmy way of disciplining young chaps, don't you think?

Its quite surprising how a woman of her caliber continues to be the principal of an eductional institution. Maybe it's just testament to the fact that no one really cares about the quality of education institutes or worse still no one really expects educational institutes to be the temples of knowledge where excellent personalities and consequently good citizens for the country are moulded.

10 facts about travelling in Indian Railways - 3rd AC

1. One can be quite proud of the quality of bed linen and the standards of cleanliness maintained. (No pun or sarcasm intended). Even for a people like Indians with a healthy disregard for cleanliness, the compartments and even the toilets are surprisingly clean.
2. Food from the pantry - hot, tempting, actually delicious most of the times and quite affordable. Obliviates the need to carry food for the long journeys.
3. Sleep before everybody else does. The cacophony created by the variety of snores, some of them accentuated by the gurgling of flem, is not the best bed time lullaby.
4. Have a scented handkerchief at your disposal at all times. Remember - when someone breakes wind in a closed compartment, the wind has no where to go!!
5. Noisy kids are a nuisance - both in general and AC compartments.
6. Beware of newly weds on their way to or back from their honey moon. There may be action replays of certain scenes which tend to make families traveling with kids uncomfortable - very very uncomfortable.
7. Always opt for the top berth, if you are upto climbing up. It has a life of its own. Once ther you need to come down to terra firma (though shaky due to the motion of the train) only when nature calls. Also top berths provide the best and uninterrupted view of the scenes as mentioned in point 6 above. That is free entertainment.
8. Though the standard of people travelling by AC would be expected to be quite high, expectations can be belied many a times.
9. You can actually enjoy the scenic beauty of the Indian countryside without sans the heat, noice or beggars.
10. All said and done, a train travel is always a stimulating experience - just keep your mind open to possibilities.

Define love

I recently read a very interesting love story. It had all the makings of a hit masala Bollywood movie. The girl was mistreated by her folks at home. The guy, who was a next door neighbour saw this ill treatement and sympathised with the girl. This sympathy slowly nurtured into liking which blossomed into love. When the girls family got wind of this budding love story, they put the girl under house arrest. The guy then plans a daring rescue operation. The love birds elope and get married. When they get back, the angry family members blame the guy of marrying the girl only because he wanted to usurp her land and property. The guy goes to court complaining of the kidnap of his wife. Also in an act of instant sacrifice, the guy arranges for the girl to legally hand over her property to her family members. All this done, the family releases the girl and our hero and heroine prepare for a happy married life...... This could have been such a tear jerker and could have been named something like "Pinjare mein kaid maina" or something like that.

But there is a twist in the tale:
Guy: 41 years
Girl: 68 years
Family: the girls 4 grown up kids

A first reading of this true life incident would have you amused. It certainly amused me.

But we have not endured the pain of being in love, the agony of seperation and above all the fear of being ostracised from the society for lending a man-woman face to an apparently mother - son type relation.

Should we term the marriage a sham just because of the age difference between the main characters? The story would not even have been worthy of mention if the genders were reversed. Should we consider this guy a pervert for desiring a woman his mothers age or should we consider him to be of an extremely large heart for wanting to rescue a woman from the plight she was suffering - the typical knight in shining white armour?

Should we consider whether their relation would be merely paltonic? Don't we expect it to be platonic? If a relation was to be platonic, was there a necessity to lend it a stamp of matrimony? Do acts like these mock the sanctity of the institution of marriage? Is all the heart normally desires, morally acceptable? Who defines what is socially acceptable, morally correct? Are any of the questions pertaining to what the heart wants of feels answerable in black and white?

I don't know....

I am just overjoyed at the prospect of love, even if in wierd and unimaginable ways, still thriving in this hatred - filled world.

Rumbling love

Rains continue to amaze me. The mighty rains are the lifeblood of our existence. Yet, how easily they manage to balance out the imbalance that man creates. One heavy bout and an entire village is lost. No wonder so many civilizations and species are now extinct. I believe that these beautiful, innocent looking droplets from the skies had a very important part to play in the way the world as we know it today came into being.

I hail from Kerala – a part of the country that is known to most people s being the land of paddy fields, back waters, coconut trees and yes – continuous torrential rains. One of the invariable results of the weather there is the delay in school reopening dates. Schools this year were slated to open on 1st June. Rains that were forecast for 30th may landed in full force a week earlier. Parts of the landscape started submerging and normal life went berserk. Amidst such floods, state governments postponed the reopening from 1st to 5th June. No sooner is the announcement made than the rains disappear. It’s steaming hot in Kerala again and there are not grey let alone black rain clouds even on the horizon. Kerala breathes a collective sigh of relief. Kids are pumped up for the new academic year – new books, new bags, shining shoos, flashy umbrellas – they have all the gear ready. Come June 5th and parents and kids step out of their houses – all excited and nervous and they are greeted by guess who??? The heaviest downpour of the week!!! 8.30 sharp and rains have kept their appointment with the kids. 9.30 – all the kids are in their classrooms, all wet and soaked – and the rains say goodbye for now. Its 4.30 – school bells resound in the corridors. Kids rush out as if freed from a prison after a life sentence and who is ready to take them home. Not mom, not dad, but dear old rains – that too with renewed vigour. It was as if the rains were never gone. People wade through the rising water levels and finally swim home. Once all are safely at home the rains sign off for the day. Just like that.

This behavior of the rains can be interpreted in many ways. As a scientific weather phenomenon, rains are season’s occurrences to sustain life on earth. As a pessimist you may view the rains as a nuisance that just lands on head (literally), very much like uninvited relatives, make life chaotic for you when they are around and then withdraw when they please with a promise to visit next time.

You want my take on the issue – a rain is like the love of a parent. They are eager to accompany us on the 1st day of a new venture; they are impatient and anxious till the loved ones are back. Their love can be embarrassing, can lead us into soups, can be smothering – but all said and done their love is just too much for us to do without, just like the rains.

MAIDEN VOYAGE

India is indeed progressing. Its not that I have harboured any doubts regarding its immense growth potential, its just that the proof that I got kind of over whelmed me. Maybe a decade or more back, a TV per 25 houses was the norm, especially in villages. I remember the times when as a child, vacationing in my grannys house in a remote village of kerala, our living room would be transformed into a mini theater of sorts for most of the village. A huge gathering would be assembeled at the house from morning to watch Ramayan till evening when the occasional Malayalam movie would be screened on national TV (cable was not available then). Now to find a hutment without a TV would be more difficult than finding water in the desert.

So it should come as no surprise to anyone that both the terminals of Mumbai domestic airport are now as crowded or more so than CST station at peak hours, thanks to the variety of low cost airlines, rock bottom air fares, and the upwardly mobile middle class of the society with their ever increasing spending power.

On a day no different than any in Mumbai I was at Terminal 1A of the Mumbai domestic airport to catch a GoAir to Coimbatore. I saw that the airport is not just crowded like a railway station, its just as chaotic and messy. Waiting to board my flight I see a couple of foreigners in their tweed jackets and khakis, a stylish Sindhi woman in her typically sindhi clothes yakking away to glory on a Nokia N-series, a group of IT Yuppies with their haggard looks and their ever present laptops hanging from their shoulders and then I see him – Senthil Senthalvarayan of CNBC TV 18 fame. As I contemplated my esteemed company I reached my seat 17C. I was shocked and surprised and for once I was lost on words (for those who know me personally – that’s pretty rare!!!). My co-passengers are a couple of people who look as if they have just got up from the pavement and have been given seats on the plane! Before you decide to crucify me as judgmental, narrow-minded etc. pray, hear me out. These people clearly belonged to the lower strata of the society and uneducated – a young guy and his mother. They were clean and dressed as they would have on any other day. Cheap sari, plastic chappal, no frills pants and shirt. The woman was so slight, surely not a result of diets and gyms, but a lot of unrelenting hardships of life and hardwork, that she was lost in the seat. I helped her buckle the seat belt. She was mortally frightened when the plane took off. I was scared that she might throw up all over me. But none of that happened. She was quite brave and other than covering her head with the pallu of her sari and screwing her eyes shut as tightly as humanly possible there was no reaction from her. I helped them buy biscuits from the flight attendants who obviously spoke only English. The rest of the flight was uneventful as I was quite busy shutting out the screeching whine of 5 year old I the row ahead of ours and penning my thoughts as they came.

I think that moment when I put my eyes on my co-passengers that fateful evening was one of the moments that I could declare to the world “Hello there, India has arrived on the global scene”! But strange is my country. When on one hand I rejoice at the thought of air travel (once the domain of the rich and bitchy) being available to the commonest of common man, on the other hand I am disgusted at the on going talks for increasing reservation quotas in various sectors of our society!

Where exactly are we moving? For every step we keep forward, how do we manage to keep jumping 2 steps back?

HALLELUIAH! JERKS!!

There are jerks and then there are JERKS. These are people who actually think that they know better than you what is good for you. These are not the genuine well wishing kind of people – those who don’t like seeing you go down a drain and advise you against it or people who by some merit such as sperm donation, umbilical cord, an intimate friendship etc are related to you. These are by standers who have to advise on every aspect of your life, whether you want it or not. Not only do they consider that to be their birthright, they also consider themselves gifts of God on earth!

I am someone who normally has an opinion for every thing and many a times I do render that opinion without being asked. I have been told by enough and more people that this habit of mine is far from endearing. People especially adults do not like to be told at every point in life what is to be done. Especially when it comes to small things like which shirt to wear, where to take the wife for dinner, how to spend a holiday, what is the definition of a nutritious breakfast, how much sugar is right in coffee….. At a later stage these are the very kind of opinions – brash, rash, unmindful, thoughtless which end up hurting people – though that might not have been the intention of the person expressing the opinion.

I was faced today by such a jerk who gave me a very final and imposing instruction regarding a decision I was contemplating to put into action the next day. Who the hell does he think he is?????? I am generally not a very close-minded person – I listen to every body and I take pains to agree or disagree with views expressed only by people that I value. The rest is just hot air. So it is understandable why I was irritated to the core when someone decided to butt in on a private conversation I was having with a common acquaintance. The issue at hand was important to me and quite a delicate matter. There I was discussing it with a close friend and Mr. Jerk butts in and decides to dictate what constitutes right and wrong behaviour on my part. He had not even heard me out before there was a barrage of what he thought was apt advice for my given situation. I was angry and that is not too pleasant situation for me to be in. This uncouth behaviour was topped by his analysis on where I erred in understanding my Boss or rather why my Boss did not understand me. I had had enough from a guy who did not know me or my Boss from the moon nor did he have any idea of the chemistry between us or the work dynamics.. Anyway the conversation came to an abrupt end and so did the evening.

Later, as I rewinded the event through my head I realized that people like Mr. Jerk had an important role in the world. They are the best tools for anger management. In all situations they invariably end up agitating you and you need to work very hard to control that temper of yours so as not to bash their face into the wall behind. That might well be the best tool for self-development that you can have in practical life and the best part is that they are found a dozen to one and their services are absolutely free. And for people like me they are an added inspiration of what not to be in life. So I guess, even Mr. Jerk has his part cut out in the grand scheme of things!!!!!!!!!

Does God Exist????

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".

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!!!!!

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?

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.

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.

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.

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!

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.

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?

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..

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.

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.

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…..