She knew

She viewed white as white. There was no confusion there, nor was there a need to decorate the words. White is white, black is black. The less the grey, the better for everybody.

Grey made her uncomfortable. It made you take actions which could be regretted later. ‘Life should be colourful, with the least possible amount of grey’, she used to say. And that is why her choices in life had always been level headed. She did not go out of the way to help anybody but took care never to hurt anyone as well. That was her.

Time and life conspire to inject ambiguity in your path. That is what happened to her. Her life was sorted before she met him. He was not a reckless person and meeting him opened up new possibilities for her, for them. He lived comfortably with ambiguity. Money, stability, though important to him, were not very serious objects of contention. When it came to these two invaluable resources, he was a hopeless romantic. He could not take them as seriously as she took them. This bothered her, but not so much.

And then they got married. It was a simple affair, like the people who are already married in their heads tend to have. They got into a pact of looking out for each other and witnessing the awesomeness of their lives together. Outwardly, they were a placid couple; no wild parties, no irresponsible behaviour. But if you peeped within, you could see a restlessness to do something worthwhile with the time they had together. And thus, they vowed to make life their bitch.

People seek stability. And when they achieve it, they seek stability on a different plane. Both of them had a steady job, good income, beautiful family. But when an opportunity to seek a new stability came, they took it.

And here they were, in a foreign land, away from their own. They never felt alone though, as long as they had each other. There was a doubt, daily, about the future. But then, they found the essence of enjoying the day as it came. Learning to embrace the new culture, they fell in love with the foreignness of the new land. Stability was like the light at the end of the tunnel. There were a lot many questions which had no answers. He was not worried though and she was.

But as long as they were together, she knew, they would make it work.

Elaichi chai

Elaichi chai is the cure.

He put the saucepan on the stove, lit it and added the tea leaves. The concept of tea is different in Mumbai. It is rarely steeped here. It is not the delicate kiss of the tea leaves, leaving behind a faint aroma and a sunset hue. It is the compromise the ingredients make with each other because of being in a hot dark cramped place: like everything else in Mumbai. And yet, it is a cure for the gloomy weekdays that you spend at home because of rains.

It was a Thursday. An off today meant that there was a possibility of an extended weekend. Just take a day off, and you could have four days of bliss; or misery. The rain would not stop, neither would the water on the roads recede. He was used to it, the way a person submits to destiny. It was the same every year, and nothing could be done about it. Mumbaikars deal with days like this as they deal with chickenpox in their childhood. It is inevitable, and nothing you do is going to ease the situation. You have to let it run its course, and then you are free. He hated how his colleagues from other places complained about it.

They all came here to be at a better place. They never complained of all the good things they could enjoy while being here. There is no place in India where you could be at such an ease as in Mumbai, or so he thought. And yet, they complained about the food, about the rains, about the crowd, about the heat. The list would go on and on. And yet, they would never leave! They did not understand that Mumbai is not a loving mother that would nurture you. It was a huge ship that treated you like the barnacles stuck on its hull. Enjoy the ride, but if the current gets too strong, it the ship would not care.
Water had logged below his building. He could see plastic bags floating around, and stray dogs perched on cars in the silt parking of the opposite building to avoid the water. He checked his phone. There were a dozen emails from his overseas colleagues. But they could wait. He was in no mood to work. Besides, he did not want to sit in front of his laptop all day at home. It would be better to come up with stuff life power cuts. People would believe it anyway. 

The tea was almost done. He added some milk and let it boil some more. He thought of switching careers. He thought of taking up photography. He lacked passion in his life, and photography was the only thing that was close to what he could call one. Though, to leave a well-paying job and take up something alternate was not something he would consider seriously. It was one of the many regrets he would have at his deathbed. 

His phone buzzed again. It was an email from his Desi boss from the West Coast who had migrated there a few years back, and had adopted the convenient ways of the Americans. There was, however, no concession for his subordinates in Mumbai. The email was about a certain presentation that was ‘urgently’ required. He know the drill. He would send in 50 slides and he would be told to compress the whole thing into 6, without losing the ‘essence’. He had tried sending 6 slides once, only to be told to do the job wholeheartedly. 

He looked at his laptop, at the corner of the table. ‘You would have no rest today my friend’ he thought looking at it. He sighed. Soon, he would spend his Thursday, at his own desk, till his neck was sore, and some more. But first, there was always time for some tea.

What do I stand for?

I hate hypothetical questions of nonsensical nature. My personal un-favorites are ‘What if you..’ It makes me wonder, what does one test with it. What does one prove with it?

I have seen people making a ruckus over minor things. Maybe, I gave a rupee to a beggar. Some other day, I did not. I don’t think I should make a strict rule whether to give alms or not, or for that matter, tip a waiter, or tell the Rickshaw-walla to keep the change. It’s my money I guess. But, I guess I am digressing.

What do I stand for? In a Business school, at least a conscientious one, words like ‘Core values’ ‘ethical obligations’ ‘social responsibility’ are thrown around so casually that they never do stick, let alone sink in. I say conscientious, and not sensitive, because, they see a need and cater to the demand. I am in no position to blame them. I do not know the complete picture. But the term: ‘Core values’ often gets me thinking.

Core Values: Values at our core. But what is our core? Is it our brain? Our heart? Our mind? What? What do we mean by values? How many of these are self adopted and not enforced upon us? How genuinely truthful are we to ourselves?

I guess values are like reflexes. Given time to think, one would come up with the best possible response. But the way you respond on a spinal level: that are your values. And rightfully so. Take a drunken man for instance. He has chemically shut off his cerebrum! The way he responds is dictated by his values.

So, can we really affix morality to our values? Because, morality is often dissected as a hind thought. It has all the time in the world to judge and be judged. I guess, the exhibition of our values does not have the liberty of time!

So I guess, I cannot say truly, what I stand for. It is situational. But I can say this with a reasonable certainty: My values are test-worthy! But please, Do not attempt to test them with a ‘What If’ question.

As our Professor once said,

“Hypothetical questions will always get you hypothetical answers!”

A last few days as a Doctor.

 

It feels weird to change the profession. It feels weirder that I never flaunted the tag. After all, was it not the big dream?

I don’t know. Being a doctor is a huge responsibility. People assume you are intelligent and well updated about the current medical advancements. People ask for your opinions. People send their children to get some inspiration from you. Patients look up to you, expecting miracles. Can you deliver? It is limited by a whole lot of variables. But you have to pretend to make your magic work.

I am going to miss it all. Well, I had decided to shift the profession a long time back. But now, when I am literally on the brink, I look back and reflect. Have I been a good doctor? I don’t know. Have I helped save lives? I guess I have, with the utmost restrained passivity with which I could have possibly done that. Over all, an average, i would sum it up to say,I did not do justice to the profession.

But it has taught me a lot. At a relatively young age, I have started taking some significant decisions. It has taught me how to talk with someone, how to behave with dignity, and most importantly, how to be a good human being.

People ask me, why I decide to leave the profession. I don’t have one possible answer. The only reason I can give, which might be the closest to the truth, is that I did not think the way a doctor is supposed to think. Medicine defies logic many a times. And logic ruled me. I need an answer to the ‘why’ which is answered by a fancy word ‘idiopathic’ in the fraternity.

May be I wasted a medical seat. Maybe I did not end up to be what my parents expected me to be. All I can say is, I am not done yet. It would be extremely vain to say, that I am destined for greatness. But I am definitely destined for something which was not this. So, without further ado, I bid farewell to being a doctor.  some day, if things are different, who knows, we will cross paths again! till then, Adios ! it was a good run!

Why women should be self sufficient: A guy's point of view.

“Being a woman is an expensive job. The thought came to me when I saw some age-reversal cream commercial where it was implied that a woman should start smearing their faces once a day past thirty. I said to myself, would a man care if he looks 23 or 32? frankly, can one guess the age of a man correctly? We all look the same to ourselves!

Then I started wondering about the other things women have brought upon themselves. The handbags for example. What in a handbag determines the price? The brand? The cow hide? I have no answer. And I was rendered even more speechless when I saw a LV handbag for $1000. can you imagine what it can buy in third world countries?

Clothes. Does a guy remember what his friend was wearing last time they were at a wedding together? No. we do not even remember what we were wearing that day. The only way we know that we have worn a shirt/ sock is by smelling it. So why do women need a different outfit for every occasion? I guess they can put that memory to some good use!

Diamonds, clothes, handbags, shoes. Women seem to have a penchant for dead investments. I don't blame them. People are entitled to have their opinions. People have a right to spend on whatever they feel like, as long as it does not cross the boundaries of legality. But how to justify things people buy where the worth:cost equation cannot work? Sensible people should draw their conclusions. If not, the trend would continue! And that is why my friends, I think that women empowerment is the need of the hour!”

-excerpts from an essay on Home Economics.

I have realised.

I have realised

We hurry, even when we have nowhere to go in particular.

People hate walking on the footpath.

The definition of success has abruptly changed from rich education to being rich.

People don’t take you seriously if you don’t bullshit.

Even friends have started making a small talk before asking for small favours.

There are no longer mud castles built in Diwali.

There is no minimum and a maximum to the requirements for life.

Strength is not at all related to proportion.

People use smileys excessively.

The definitions and perception of everything are changing.

Human values are often scorned upon.

When it comes to a shitty deal, it is always you at the receiving end, even though the statistics say that the probability decreases by the second.

Unity is a decoration.

I have become lazier.

There is no right or wrong. all that is, is in various shades of grey.

I have started to suck at this.

Exasperation

The night is often darkest before dawn. I hope it is true. The past year has easily been the bleakest year for India. Shamefully nomenclated ‘The Year of Scams.’

I don’t know what is more disheartening. The perfidious bureaucracy, the apathetic Junta, the impotent justice system, or the insouciant government. Money, which could have been used for some common good was instead either silently pocketed or squandered without a thought. CWG is a burning example.

‘My conscience is clear’ has been the mantra of everyone exposed in these scams. what about actions? And how long are we going to sit and discuss it like it was something not affecting us? Has getting ripped off become a habit? Are we enjoying this buggery?

Is there a spirit of unity left between us? What binds us these days? Are we a nation of sluggards who are incapable of rising to an occasion? or have we turned into escapists who turn a deaf eye and ear to the things going around us? Are we a nation of brave humans who would brace any harm to defend the country, or are we a nation of sewer rats who would be the first ones to abandon the sinking ship?

I cannot answer the questions. because over a period of time, i have come to understand the truth: There is nothing white or black. all that is, is in different shades of gray.

But, then again, i take it as a good thing. If I am both a warrior and a coward, all it would take is to lose one trait. it is far more easier than imbibing a new quality altogether. This diatribe might seem without a focus. but the essence is the same.

‘How much more are we going to endure without putting on a fight.’

In conclusion, all I can say is that I hope is when we take a united stand, it should not be too late. neither should a calamity force us to do so.

friendship equation.

You outgrow friends.

I know, a bad start for a post. But then, there are certain facts which we like to use an euphemism for. This is one of them.

Throughout life, we come across people we take a liking for. We either see a part of ourselves in them or a part of what we want to be… And we call them friends. But as we grow, we change. Our ideas change. Our perceptions about ourselves as well as others change. And suddenly we look for some different set of qualities or vices in some other people.

And so, the best friend from our childhood may not be the best friend when you are in college, who again may not be the best friend later on.

I attended a wedding recently. Amongst my friends there, I was one of the few who were changing the field of expertise. And then it dawned on me, that I did not have anything to discuss with a majority of them. And it became awkward after some time.

But then, the good thing is, when you outgrow a friendship, that does not necessarily mean that you stop being friends. I console myself that in future when I meet these people, I would at least get a warm smile, and a genuine interest about my present. In recent times, it is a cheerful thing to get!

Then again, there are some new people to befriend! Some new insights about who I really am. But I am not in a hurry. past was beautiful, about the future, i am optimistic! after all, cruising life as it comes is the most beautiful way to enjoy the journey.

I still got it!

When I was 22, I was cocksure about a lot of things. My hair( I never had dandruff), my vision ( I could read something miles apart), my teeth ( I used to open up beers for people), my ability to be a tankard ( I could drink as much as I wanted and still be sober). I was even cocky about my cockiness! I guess that is an age when you feel you are Unbeatable.

Four years later, I was in for a series of jolts. I think I have a bald spot now. I got a prescription for my eyes. I underwent a root canal, i can barely down three drinks without feeling nauseated. My cockiness reduced hundred folds. But instead of being replaced by wisdom which age is supposed to bring, it was replaced by fear of failure.

But then, life is not a simple equation of X and Y. it is complex, tangled, but most importantly, never a straight line. So, it happened. I met someone fantastic who did not fill me up with a false hope but boosted me up with confidence. I met a wonderful dentist who fixed my tooth. I can boast about my good vision again, albeit with glasses. And then i realized that the other things don’t matter much!

No moral of the story. Just realized, I still got it!

Writing was a vent..

Too much bottled up in the past year, to the point of mild indifference..

But had to write today..

And the reason is, the day was eventless. no trigger, no provocation.

Just remembered the old times and thought, ha, what the heck. I have to do something in order to prevent my grey matter from turning to mortar.

so this series of senseless sentences, which would make sense to very few..

But the bottom line is, M back!

The Signal.

Do you believe in God?
Or for that matter, a divine Entity, actively altering our course of life, and guiding us towards enlightenment?
Well, I will let you out a secret.
Imagine a guy, with a billion eyes, sitting in front of equal number of CCTVs in a ‘control room’ enjoying a donut and a grand latte, and equally enjoying watching all of us make fools of ourselves! Well you call him God, but I call him ‘The Dude’!
Well, about the dude: He is a good guy. Not too bright to think on his toes, about what to do about crisis situations. What he likes to do is to drop hints. And see if we can see them!
So this is what is called ‘The Signal’
Well guys, you all must have experienced ‘The Signal.’
It is always subtle. Like, when you are going to say something wrong, and suddenly somebody in the room gets hiccups, or when you want to go out and there is a power failure.
‘The Signal’ is the way it works folks. It is the way The Dude likes to intervene.
Don’t expect any kind of active intervention from Him. He is too busy with his coffee. But what he can do is to show you ‘The Signal’.
Imagine. You leave your house to meet someone. And you find that the elevator is stuck at some other floor. Thats the first Signal.
You take the flights, go down, only to find that there are no ricks. Second signal.
You are already late. The person keeps on calling you like insane. Telling you that he/she is getting late. So in a hurry, you get into a shady rick, and tell him “bhagao’.
And wonder what happens? The rick breaks down.The Third Signal.
Mind you. There are only three signals by default. If you don’t get them, then the dude figures out that you are too dumb to be rescued.
So eventually you reach late, the person is furious, you end up paying double fare, and your work is not done!
So listen to my advice. Turn back on the first signal. Make some pretence. Say that you feel like you have Flu! It is a very valid and tested technique!
When your phone acts like a stubborn kid, and refuses to send some message, it is ‘The Signal’!
When you suddenly find out that you have nothing ironed to wear, and the current goes, it is ‘The Signal’!
So, take my advice. Never ignore ‘The Signal’. After all, it is The Dude talking with you.
Follow this, and you may not be the richest, most successful, person on the earth. But you will be happy.
And i did not make this up. Its true. You see, The dude allowed me to publish it! So believe me! He gave me a green to tell you all this!

Change is important!

No.
I am not talking about 'that' change. I mean, I agree that ‘Parivartaan’ is important in life. Without it, we will be reduced to an Ant’s monotony.
What I am talking about, is the ‘Change’: Chillar, Chutta .
You all have to agree that it is the most important thing in the life, at least if you live in India, and go out from your room with an intention to buy something.
You may have a thousand ki note in your pocket. But that does not buy the lemons your mom has asked you to buy while coming home, Or a Reynolds 045 your exam going brother wants when he suddenly realises that he is out of pens, just one day prior to his exams for that matter! You can pleads and cajole and writhe and moan, but the Muchhad Bhaiyya or the bespectacled oily faced geeky guy in the stationary store will not budge.
And heaven help you if you are a guy and you happen not to have some change for a rick! Dude, you will end up being in shady shops in obscure locations in the glorious sun, agreeing to buy things which you will never ever need, in order to pay that transportation.
You will not be able to inflate that tyre; you will not be able to have that cutting chai unless you have that precious Chillar!
You may be rich enough to buy that plasma TV without a loan, but what it takes to understand money’s true worth, is Chillar!
It will help you when u are out of coverage area, when your battery runs out, and u have to make that urgent phone call.
It will help you even to attend the nature’s call!
Seriously guys, you have to agree, ‘Change’ is important!

The pit of the stomach

The pit of the stomach is a funny place!
We see, hear, touch, smell, and taste... but it is all reflected in the pit of the stomach!
When u see something which u r not supposed to see, before your ears go numb, if you hear something not meant for you, When u touch something forbidden, when u taste that heady whiskey, or a grain vodka, your pit of the stomach gives its first warning!
When u are caught in a compromising situation, when you are outside the viva hall, or the Principal’s office, waiting to be grilled,
when the traffic policeman signals you to pull over,
when you are supposed to be somewhere, and you are so late that you don’t even feel like making an effort, when you are about to give up, the Pit of the stomach acts funny!
It is like this seventh sense. Like a fore-conscience. It warns you at the spinal level. You don’t have to think the situation. And it gives you the warning!
I have had my fair share of ‘Pit- Alerts!’
A confession.
I have done some things which I am not proud of, been through ‘definitely embarrassing' situations, and I had, at those instances, hated the feeling.
And the past few months.
I am now employed, taking a lot of responsibility. I have stopped my careless ways of getting things done. I reach my work place on time. (!)
I have minimal social life. I am far away from the Principal’s office! And I am a tad too careful on the road. To sum it up, I have been on my best behaviour recently.
Today I woke up late, and the first thought was, ‘shit, it's only 17 days to the exam.’
And the all so familiar sensation was back... Not just back, but ‘gut wrenching’ back-in its full glory..
And I am happy to have it back! Reminds me of all those ‘fun’ and carefree days!

Love.

'Love conquers all..'

I said this on my page on Orkut, and I got an instantaneous reply..

'Does it really?' asked a friend..

A buddy of mine supported her..

well, Love is as hot a debate, as, lets say, "Acceptance of Homosexuals in society."

Weird isn't it when someone says, "I hate Love."?

I am not much of a thinker. I don't know if 'love conquers all', or is 'all forgiving', or the 'ultimate truth'.

All I know is, it gives me strength.

I love my mother, and her sight in the morning gives me the strength to face the day.

I loved my grandpa, and that gave me the strength to hug him when he was in distress,or help him change his clothes, despite the fact that his bed used to be soiled, or appreciate the single words he used to say, after days on end, or just a smile he gave rarely,like he kept it reserved for some occasions.

I love my sisters, who live far apart, but never feel disconnected from them.

I love my brothers, and it gives us strength to stand up for each other.

I love my country, despite the fact that it is heading in the wrong way.

I love my friends, and it helps me stay alive!

Hate is a stronger reaction, like the taste of chilies say. Love is as bland as the flour.

But we cant live on chilies can we?

Many, are scorned by love. We have let it down, by trying to fit it into some kind of definition. Wouldn't it be wise to give it another chance?

After all, where does all this hate, or for that matter indifference take us?

Welcome to the Great Indian Circus

Welcome to the Great Indian Circus

The first impression about the circus was good. I mean, with more than a hundred crore spectators, it sure was a crowd puller.
The speciality of the circus is that, it is totally indigenous. The performers (or most of them) are, from the crowd itself! And, there is a totally new experience; there is no schedule for the performances, it almost happens like a reality show!
The circus was currently in Mumbai, for the last four months. The Star of attraction, was the Big Baboon, with its gang of Macaques. On the receiving end, were the mules, from the Ganga plains. The show went on, with this Gang of monkeys, beating up the mules, and made them run for the shelter. The show was called off, when the Animal right activists took an objection.
Next, was the unexpected turn, when a Jealous Neighbouring Circus, sent its trained sabre toothed cats, Who swam a great deal, right past the sleeping sea lions, and sea horses, entered the circus tent, and threatened to blow it off! The item lasted for quite some time. The Leopards finally came to a rescue, after much persuasion, and gutted the cats, with minimal damage to the tent.
Reacting to it, a big horde of Pansy butterflies made an appearance on the stage, which was a hot bed of activity. They came one by one, finding time from their merriment. Some said very funny things, now, was it their loss of intellect, or was it because they wanted to lighten the atmosphere by their farces, they alone know.
But, the crowd was not happy. It loved the circus, though it treated the crowd badly, charging them exorbitant tickets, and not taking much care for the security. Agreed, the crowd faced minor discomforts, the bedbugs sent by the Jealous Neighbouring Circus , would suck some blood, but it was forgiven and forgotten just like a bug bite. But this was a big thing. Bed bugs were one thing, and the Saber toothed cats were another.
Suddenly, as if awakened by lightening, the crowd decided, that they needed new showman. The Peacock, who was the current manager was made to step down from his post. His deputy, The Crow, was a bit reluctant to step down. He even stated that such minor incidences happen in a big circus. This enraged the crowd even more, so he succumbed to public demand.
Meanwhile, the sea lions and the sea horses came under public criticism. Their leader stated that it needed more intelligence. Also, the leopards were dispatched, and were to stay in the sensitive areas.
The Chimp wanted to be the new Regional Manager. But the Big Dolphin, who was made to dress as a Lion by the Bluebird(National bird of Italy) at Delhi, would not agree. So, an unknown deer, with a clean background was appointed instead.
Learning this, The Chimp threw hysterics, commented that the attack was an Inside job. He left with his faithful gang of monkeys, and, last heard, was all set up to form a new circus troupe!
And, the crowd is still interested in what happens next!

cluttered outbreak

What is happening to this country?

In the last six months, we have seen a collective violence surpassing the incidences in the past six years. Political instability without any reason, language related discontent without any reason, series of bomb blasts without any reason stated. Makes you wonder, what is happening.

And what are we doing against it? Marathis not protesting against the atrocious behaviour of some madman, who is not even clever enough to mask it's political nature behind a cause? being happy that finally Hindus stood up and were responsible for the blasts at Malegaon? Is this the answer or the solution to anything?

Have we become so tolerant, or rather indifferent, that we turn a blind eye to injustice? Why are we not protesting against such law breakers?

Seeing all this, i refuse to be PROUD of my countrymen. If a bunch of imbeciles can cause such turmoil, I don't see any point in PLEDGING my devotion for my countrymen. On one hand, we spend a substantial revenue on defence, and on other hand, we turn a blind eye towards the vandalism. Are we a country of impotents?

and we brought the biggest irony of the century. 

Language, instead of being the mode of communication, has become a ground for discrimination. It has stopped bringing people together, instead, Language, today, pushes people apart.

short story-puppets.

1.

'Khel khatam bachha log.'

'Nahi chacha, aj kuch aur dikhao. ye kahani to hum sun chuke the. Aur dobaara isi kahini ko dekhne ke paise hum kyon de? chalo Babloo, hum kahi aur jate hai.'

Wrapping up the puppets, Abdul felt cheated. he always felt so, when viewers refused to pay money after the show. And the viewers were always children. "bachhonse kya wasooli karna?" he thought to himself, while pushing the cart away.

But this notion was going to cost him his lunch. Noor was going to be very mad at him for this. she always insisted that he should collect money beforehand. like some kind of a ticket. but Abdul was an artist. He had no heart for this coldhearted commerce.

 "hum kalakaar hai, koi dalaal nahi." he used to say. 

"to bech khaao mujhe bhi. is nautanki se taang aa gayi hoon" she would taunt back.

He hated to argue, and, the fact was, she was right. 

The puppet shows were not as popular as they were in his childhood.

Unlike other forms of earning a livelihood, this had no place in cities. He could go, as far as small towns. There too, the 'video game' bug had bitten the children. 

              Abdul would feel sad. not for himself, not for his wife. He would feel bad for the children. They had no innocence left. even the smallest of the kids used to be a shrewd customer. They were no longer happy with his stories. They all wanted to see wars, and guns and victories. They asked strange questions; ones he could not answer. No one wanted to see the 'Raja Rani Ki Kahini'

2.

Swati was not happy. She had a bad day at work. She had worked day and night on that presentation. And when the crucial time came, her boss presented the same, and took credit.

She felt cheated. There was some mute sympathy from her colleagues. But sympathies were the last thing she wanted.

Kaushal was not being supportive either. He never understood her feelings. “He could be more supportive” she thought. The presentation had meant a lot to her, it being a chance of getting ahead. Yet he complained of her late hours, not once asking her about her progress in the presentation.

 Just two months in marriage, and there was a clear drift. The house had one Dictator, her mother in law. Being a small town girl, she was never disrespectful towards elders. Yet, on a day like this, she resented her marriage.

It was a plain, colourless day for her. She was in no hurry to go home.

Home!

She laughed at the idea. Nevertheless, she had to accept it as it was. And it was not that bad either, she told herself. She was allowed to work, and occasionally, her saas would actually be good to her. She was never threatened about anything, nor was she harassed like Manju, her distant cousin.

“I don’t know,  I am confused.”

And she remembered her mother. Her house, the one that was really her home. There was warmth in it. There was always someone to listen to what she had to say. Her father always encouraged her to study, to get educated. She was taught to have her own opinions, and when she made her decisions, they were never opposed.

“God, I miss it.”

Diwali was near, and she had a lot of work to do. But she was in no mood. Walking down the road to the bus stop, she noticed the small park, with the bent Gulmohur, and the odd bench beneath it. Being impulsive was not her nature, so she was surprised when she found her leaving the queue and heading towards the bench.

It reminded her of her school playground. It had plenty of Gulmohurs. And diwali used to be a special time then, because, the playground used to be turned into the village fair. There used to be sweet shops, there used to be colorful dresses. And there used to be the puppet show.

She was in her own thoughts when she saw the old scrawny man pushing the familiar cart with multicolored adornments. And for the first time since the morning, she smiled.

3.

            Abdul had passed the afternoon empty stomached, cursing his fate. Passing from one street to another, he was looking for an audience. He wanted some money, of course, but the one thing he wanted the most, was some appreciation. The sound of claps was sweeter to him, than the clinking of coins in his old cap.

He searched every playground, every corner on his way, but spotted no children. No one wanted to see his dingy puppets. The people eyed him with suspicion, and the mothers called their children in as soon as they saw the old man in rags pushing the gaudy cart.

            And then he saw the girl in the blue chudidar, sitting below the Gulmohur. She had the innocence on her face, which he had much longed to see. There were a plenty of expressions playing over her face, just like his puppet show. Suddenly, she looked up. Their eyes met and she smiled a child’s smile. 

            Swati walked over to the cart. The old man too had stopped by then.

Standing in front of his cart, with all the memories behind her, she said.

“chacha, ek kahani sunao.”

Abdul smiled. He was contented. Now, since many years, he had an audience.

“kaunsi kahani sunau beti?”

He asked, not wondering about the absurdity of the situation. And he almost leapt with joy when she said,

“koi achhisi Raja Rani ki Kahani Sunao na Chacha!”

Where am I going?

What is coming next?

What do I really want from my life?

Why is everything suddenly so messed up?

Why is there no drive in me anymore?

Why can I not remember things as I used to?

Why are the text books suddenly so dull?

Why am I watching so much tv?

When did I quit taking small pleasures in life?

Why am I frustrated about everything?

What should I do to feel satisfied?

What should I do, to get things alright?

Some Questions

Advertisement industry has become an entertainment in itself. One liners are the all time favorites, but talking about the tv commercials, they have become intelligent. In say ten years, the quality, the thoughts and the impact of these commercials has noticeably improved.
Who can forget the superb advertisements promoting Idea telecom? Or the new ‘Jago Re’ campaign by Tata tea? Or the beautiful Nescafe ads? They really convey the idea, the pulse, the drive.
But, I have some questions.

Why are the women in these commercials always talking about some detergents/ toilet cleaners/ free offers/ face creams/ sanitary napkins? Do women in real life do that? Do they really dance on the roof because the detergent works better? Or is doing all this the sole aim of their existence?

Why are the Doctors shown wearing a lab coat even in some departmental stores? Why do they carry their sthethoscopes everywhere they go? Why do they analyze floor cleaners/ disinfectants? Don’t they have some real work?

Why are the advertisements promoting chocolate coated corn flakes/ candy bars/ health drinks instead of the healthier products like milk/ eggs/ home made food? Why is there a big substitution in the diet right from infancy? Were things we ate/ drank in our childhood not good enough? How can today’s moms tolerate their children not finishing their breakfast? Is it not pampering?

How can somebody reduce the content of Sodium from common salt? is it not like making water less wet? or trees less woody?

Why do 50 % of the kids in commercials have spectacles? Is the problem of vision that bad here?

How can twenty different chain stores claim to charge the lowest price? Or is there a new definition for the word?

And lastly,

How can one be smart enough to understand the ‘intelligent’ ads, and at the same time, stupid enough to ignore such questions?

Mumbai

I saw Mumbai meri jaan yesterday.
A much critically acclaimed film, catching the essence of Mumbai.
A story of many people:
A cop who cannot tolerate injustice, another who has adapted to the ‘accepted standards’,
A tv reporter who is famous for her prompt 'breaking news',
A company executive and his pregnant wife,
A computer salesman who thinks all Muslims are terrorists,
A coffee vendor from Chennai who wants to have a taste of the riches,
And, a series of train blasts, affecting their lives.
A story beautifully told, refrained from any bias from the directorial point of view, this movie captured my heart. We have amongst us, people who have lost much in the blast. Still, life goes on.
Often I wonder, when I hear things like ‘mumbai marathichyanchi!’ etc. Or the recent drive against the North Indians, or the compulsion for Marathi sign boards. I ask myself,” is this really necessary? With all the city’s resources used up in this, is anyone’s life improving?”
We conveniently shut our eyes to the injustice caused by such society hooligans. Just being Marathi does not give us the right to see justice being massacred like this. Somewhere, the city is suffering much from this.
There are many pressing issues in this country: floods, violence, generalized disorder. Do we really have to spend our resources on this? Why are only caste/language related sensitive issues taken up? Why is there abundant media coverage for all this vandalism? Why is such breach of law being tolerated by the Law makers?
I am a Mumbaikar. I was born and brought up here. Whatever I have, Mumbai offered me. Still I have a question:
Is it really necessary to state a claim on the city to reside here? Can a man not just stay here, not being frightened to display his identity and talk his own language? Is this not something against our fundamental rights?
Maybe someday, we will get the answers.