Adulting into Life

I was gasping for personal space as I stayed in a 300 square foot house, a 1 BHK apartment with 4 other people; people who were amazing individuals but a dysfunctional family unit. I left my house to pursue my masters roughly 5 months back. At that time, I perceived this opportunity to stay in a new country as nothing short of freedom. Life at home had become a routine devoid of spice, mechanically wading through the days lacking any touch of novelty. The same area, the same people, the same studies. Restrictions and rules were plenty and prevalent. The washroom was my favourite place in the house as it gave me the rare ephemeral feeling of the much-needed solitude. Of course, this solitude had a time limit if you didn’t want your family members to think you had an upset stomach.

So when I left home, I did not cry. I was excited at the prospectus of my upcoming life. Of course, I was deeply sad- if ‘sad’ can cover what I was feeling, to leave my home, my family, my friends, my city, my country. But I wasn’t sad to leave my previous life. What I failed to realize then was that I was also leaving my childhood.

I say childhood, because even though I technically became an adult at 18 and I am well into my twenties, adulthood began when I left home to be on my own and any period prior to adulthood can only be described as childhood I suppose, for the lack of a more fitting word. I wasn’t immature or pampered per se. But I was comfortable. I was as comfortable as I could be without being treated like a princess. This realization only hit me when I had to pay my own bills, pay my own rent, wash my own clothes, clean my own utensils, clean my own house, clean my own toilet, cook my own food and a hundred other things which I was never accustomed to. And all this even though my father is still paying for me. Was I pampered? I was a middle-class girl; how could I be pampered? But I guiltily feel I was perhaps.

My parents would always tell me to concentrate on my studies and not bother with the household chores. My granny has scolded me into eating because I was so tensed about the exam which was going to begin in two hours that I didn’t have time to eat and I would have skipped my meal. And I would get annoyed. “Seriously I won’t die if I don’t eat one day!”, I would retort. But look Aaji, I am cooking my own food and my exam starts in two hours and I am tensed like hell. But I am cooking my own food. Because you aren’t here to scold me and to tell I need to take care of my health. And nobody will.

“Something should happen to that dratted whatsapp of yours!”, my mother would shout as if that was the solution of all the problems in this world. Why would anyone be online all the time was beyond her understanding. Why wouldn’t anyone be, was beyond mine. “We were going to whatsapp call you but your last seen was 7 hours ago, we thought you must be sleeping!” she texted me now. Oh how I wish I was. The frequency of checking my email is more than checking my whatsapp messages. Catching me online has become as rare as getting your hands on a sale item on the ‘big billion day’ of Flipkart.  Look Mamma, you got your wish granted.

I was walking towards my realtor’s office when I remembered that day when I was reading ‘Confessions of a shopaholic’ and I got a text alert saying I had racked up an exorbitant phone bill that month. Panicking I ran to my dad to tell him I had not used that much data and there was definitely some mistake. “Don’t worry I will take care of it” he said and that was that. I had gone back to my novel knowing it would be handled.

I had reached my realtor’s office. I sighed and turned the handle. “Hi Inna, I just got the invoice for this month. I believe there has been some mistake,” I said, preparing to argue for the wrongly charged bill. How I wish you were here to “take care” of things, Baba.

I was always so keen on moving ahead that I probably didn’t realize in entirety what I was leaving behind. I will someday go back home but I will never be able to return to that comfortable cocoon that my family had woven around me. I won’t be living with my parents again; I will be staying with them. When you ran out of pocket money, you couldn’t go for that movie or eat at that restaurant your friends are going to, citing “sorry boss, kadki chalu hai”. When you run out of your savings, there is no food on the table. But hey, no pressure. Welcome to Adulthood.

I never had a room growing up. I couldn’t cry whenever I wanted. I couldn’t cry when that guy broke my heart. I couldn’t make drinking plans on the phone because my parents could hear. I couldn’t write in my diary because my mother would poke her nose in it. I felt I needed a room of my own. And now I have one. It is a small room but the space feels overwhelming. The silence is deafening as it reminds me of the voices I miss. Having a room to myself means I can cry to my heart’s content…but perhaps I wouldn’t have needed to had I not had one.

When you start living alone, you realize why man is called a social animal. Why everyone craves company and why it is a necessity and not merely a want. Yes, when I lived with my family, there were times when I had to put on a façade and pretend that the pain didn’t exist. But in a way, it helped to forget the pain, even if temporarily. Holding back the tears would take all the efforts and you would need to divert your mind to prevent the waterworks. And many times, the pain is, in fact, momentary. If you can neglect that one jab, that one moment when you felt like crying, you can perhaps prevail over it. And for the bigger ones, the arms of your parents would always be open to embrace you.

The advantages exist and would primarily boil down to just one word- freedom. Adulthood is just the price you pay for it. The training wheels are off and your father is no longer running behind the cycle holding it. You are on your own and when you fall, you have to get up, dust yourself and continue. Being an adult is realizing only you can help yourself to maintain the balance. Being an adult is realizing you can’t go back to training wheels no matter how difficult the road gets.

I finally have a room of my own and all the freedom that I ever wanted. Things have changed. But I still continue to gasp as the abundance of solitude, slowly transforms into loneliness and chokes me. Alas, the grass is always greener on the other side.

(written Jan 2016)

Susegad

Every college going student dreams of a vacation in Goa, especially after watching DCH. Of course very few of us can afford a road trip in a Mercedes, but that doesn’t stop us from dreaming nevertheless. Given how eternally broke the archetypal college student is, the trip planning is done on a fixed budget (And a Mercedes doesn’t even remotely appear in the picture, except probably for ogling at the ones that pass by.) I should bring to your attention that the key words here are “dreaming” and “planning”. The utterance of the hackneyed dialogue “let’s go to goa this vacation man!” becomes an end-of-the-semester custom for every student, especially the engineering ones, whose grueling never-ending exams last as long as their semester does. But when that long-awaited quintessential Goa trip of your twenties happens, it is truly worth all the wait.

So naturally, just as everything else, the implementation of all the plans began with obtaining the permission from your parents. No matter what your age is, unless you are earning on your own, you have to get your parents’ permission. And not one parent,both. And not just your parents, your friends’ parents have to be convinced,cajoled,coaxed,forced, blackmailed too and if none of this works,even lied to. (“Dad everyone is going…college IV…compulsory…marks are counted.”)(“ Did you hear Goa?no mom.. I meant Shirdi…to pray for good marks you know!”)

So finally we arrive in Goa…and it is all that you expected it to be. Beaches, booze and well,bombshells(p.s. what has happened to the species of hot guys? Forget tigers, there is a dire need to save hot guys! ) It is a paradise for everyone…college students who want to “chill”, honeymoon couples who need the romance in the air and oldies who want to visit as many temples/churches as possible! And don’t even get me started on the food! (vegetarians…hard luck!) Well as you might have understood by now I can go on and on raving about the  beauty that Goa is, but I am not writing today to talk about Goa…that is something that everyone knows…those who have been to goa and those who haven’t.

Before going for the trip I was searching on the internet for things to do in Goa and places to visit when I came across this word-susegad. Naturally I googled what it meant and this is what I got- “Susegad is a term that Goans use for their relaxed / laid-back attitude towards life. It is a whole way of life which demands that you are relaxed, take your time in whatever you do, enjoy life to the fullest, don’t worry, and be happy. There has to be, after all, much more to life than speed and competition and the attendant greed it brings.” (Courtesy: transwiki) As goes with all local words, you cannot exactly translate one word into another language.This was the closest definition I could probably get of a word which is an abstract concept.But that seemed like an interesting ideology, So today, I want to talk about the people who practice it…the goans…because I honestly  don’t know whether it is goa that has made the goans the way they are or the goans that has made goa the way it is!

It was a Sunday and we needed a plumber for one of the toilet commodes. (We were staying in a friend’s house. Yes, you know you have hit the jackpot when you have a friend who owns a house in Goa!) So we made a few calls and this is the response we got – “Madam aap kitne bhi paise pheko,aaj Sunday hai, aaj koi nahi aayega! “ (No matter how much money you offer no one will come today as it is a Sunday) Most of the shops are closed in the afternoon. Reason: Nap time, duh! (The only way you will find shops closed collectively in Mumbai in the afternoon, is if there was a riot or a strike.)

One day, while we were returning from a club at 3 30 in the night, our rented car got a flat tyre. We obviously had to pull over to change the tyre. Being the naïve mumbaikars that we were, one of us asked a passerby if there was a 24 hour mechanic’s shop anywhere near. He told us there is no chance of finding a mechanic at that hour and we will get one directly at 10 the next morning. Not 7,not 8, not 9…but 10 a.m! Yes, welcome to Goa.

You know how things go wrong in bulk… like some dominoe effect? Something like that happened that night and we ended up spending 3 hours to change one tyre. As it turned out we did not have the right jack,so we had to stop random cars and request for one. Imagine you are in Mumbai and a group of college kids are asking you to stop your car at around 4 in the night…will you stop?how many cars do you think will stop? Fortunately or unfortunately we were in Goa, and most of the cars did stop. Some people even stopped to inquire without asking them to. Curiosity or general sweetness, they did stop. Finally we found a nice gentleman who lent us his jack and waited for around 20 minutes to half an hour till we finished the work. Of course there were people who refused to help us ( and we did severely curse them in our mind) but the people who did stop and help outnumbered those who didn’t. A guy who didn’t have the right jack even offered to give us a lift. And a taxi driver who had although passed us without stopping, stopped on his way back to inquire what was wrong as he had seen us at the same spot 2 hours back when he had passed us for the first time.

Most of us, having many hours of practice at street shopping, pride ourselves on being master bargainers. Especially the marwadis, the gujarathis and to some extent even maharshtrians have earned a reputation for being good at it. We haggle for one rupee with the taxi driver and we all know it is not about the money, it is about the attitude. Attitude matters and you will realize just how much when you go to goa. Forget about being successful or unsuccessful at bargaining, most of the times we did not even “feel” like bargaining, and when we did, we ended up agreeing with the other person’s arguments and conceded to their prices.This being said, we also had the experience of getting a free,I repeat, “free” commodity from a street seller guy when we went and told him the one we had bought from him broke because one of us dropped it by mistake. This guy happened to have a spare one with him and just gave it to us. For Free. Who knew such people existed?

I don’t know whether it’s the subsidized prices of booze, the climate and the beaches or the religious hotspots in Goa that make the people the way they are. Perhaps the goans have made Goa the way it is with their laid-back outlook. So much so that even foreigners are rampant in these parts and Russian has been adopted as a second language on sign boards and menu cards( A village called morjim is known as “Little Russia” because of the number of Russian immigrants) It is only in Goa that you find the electronic goods shop guy unwinding in the same club as you are or a plumber so immaculately dressed that you wouldn’t guess he was a plumber till he told you so! A week in Goa and their relaxed contended attitude will start growing on you. If only the whole world had such a chilled work culture! Goa is one of the tourist destinations that you cannot visit on a fixed itinerary. You have to go at a calm pace to savour what this place has to offer. I am a person who loves to travel,see as many new places as I can…the kind who has a check list of the places to visit whenever they go to a new place, but goa is a place where the word “hurry” holds no meaning .A holiday at this place and whether you know the local language or not, whether you use google or not, you will know in your heart …what Susegad really means.

Susegad rau ani Goa la jaau.

 

 

 

Interactions.

Ever had those brief encounters with strangers on the bus or the train where you don’t know the person’s name but you just talk? Make a friend for a short time…a nameless friend perhaps.Is `friend’ the right word? Probably not. The stranger might not rush to your help just because he was pleasantly talking with you. But then who is he? Why do we have these brief encounters?

A woman in the train once started just chatting about her job and even told me that she was taking a burger parcel for her brother. Another woman fought with me and called me names. Someone else joined a discussion which me and my friend were having about train madness. A woman travelling with her kid started speaking to me when I was going on a night trek, inquired whether I had any company and told me to take care of myself. A kid in McDonald’s was not listening to his mother but listened to me and ate his food. A policeman chatted with me about politics and inquired where I was studying. A taxiwaala discussed engineering admission process with me. A small kid who had come for his vacation to India made sand castles with me while his parents spoke with mine only to realize they used to stay in the same neighborhood as kids. A banana seller woman told me to keep studying and become an educated person.

Different people. Different lives. Different topics. Different places. Different times. Probably never to meet you again . Why was that one point of contact necessary? Does everything have a reason? Maybe it teaches you something, maybe it doesn’t. Maybe it’s a part of an holistic experience, pieces of a jigsaw puzzle.

I have people in my class who have been with me for 3 years and not spoken a word. I have people in my building who have seen me every day for the past 10 years and not uttered a syllable. There are people from my school which I attended for 15 years, and all I know about them is their faces. I have relatives who I have met all my life but haven’t got past “How are you? What do you do?” and “How big have you grown!”

How do these people never touch your lives like the banana seller woman did? Or how come you know nothing about these people unlike the woman who was taking a burger for her younger brother?

There are some faces that would always form the background. There are some faces that would perform cameos. And then there are those that would occupy the centre stage.

Let’s talk about books. There are books whose series you would follow fanatically and have their first editions adorning your shelves; those are the books you would never get bored of; books where you always find something new in spite of years of perusing the same yellow pages. There are books which are stand alone and you like them. The story was freshening; you enjoy it, recommend it to your friends but don’t read the book ever again. And then there are books that you would start to read but can’t quite finish. There are books which are on your to-read-list but you never find time to get around to that. Then there are books that you wouldn’t touch with a ten yard stick. There are books which intrigue you and you want to read more but you give up as you can’t keep up with their language. Then there are those books which have been recommended by everyone, those popular classics, the bestsellers…but they don’t strike a chord with you. Those are the books you prefer to stay neutral about in public even though they have exhaustively bored you. And sometimes there comes along a book which you fall in love with in the first few pages and you just know that this one is going to go on to adorn your top shelf of the book cupboard.

I love those kinds. They come unexpectedly, become your favourites in no time and make a permanent space for themselves in your lives. They defy the rules of time. Usually you need to read the book from cover to cover to pass a judgment. But there is something about these books that just make you feel connected with in the first few chapters. And they bring a certain excitement in your life…the thought that after a tiring day, I have a good novel to return home to…the happiness that there are many chapters yet left to read. And while they might not last as long as your favourite series did, they would bring a strong gust of refreshing air into your lives, and unlike a breeze which would linger and take its time, this would pass before you could tell it to stay some more…wait some more. It will vanish into thin air leaving you wishing for more, leaving you mesmerized, maybe even leaving you shattered from the absence of it.

But you will always remember them. A spark might flash before your eyes for a minuscule of a second but its brightness leaves an impression and every time you close your eyes you will find its imprint waiting for you. It will take a few blinks to get rid of it. And then it will be gone. But while it lasted its brilliant light changed your vision. Be thankful. You won’t be able to bring it back. It was a shooting star. Just be happy that you could spot it.

Why do you read books? Some give you knowledge…some provide entertainment…some you can relate to…some are for passing time…one page or a whole series they contribute to who you are. Every person is born with a clean slate. Books, or people…a brief encounter or a soul mate….they write on this slate…a letter, a word, a symbol that you can’t decipher, a story, a scratch or a picture. Some might fade away…some might get erased…but they make you who you are …holistically…pieces of a puzzle.

So while you wonder about the purpose of those brief encounters, just value them. Whether you want or not they are writing on your slate. And whether you want or not you are reading a book, maybe a random page number. But read with open eyes and open mind for you never know which one of these brief encounters might go on to occupy the top shelf of your cupboard. Unless you open the book, you can’t read the story…open every book you get a chance to open. Value those brief encounters.

After all, every person is nothing but a book…

“chhutta nahi hai!”

You know who I am talking about.Those who are responsible for the morning scowls and temper-raising bickerings and yet are an indispensible part of today’s life,without whom the city might just cease to operate.Yes,the taxiwalas and the rikshawalas.

And they know it all too.They have understood the fact that we need them.Infact you might think that they have over-understood. Quite frankly I haven’t seen any celebrity have as much attitude as they have.If you shout out their names,even the celebrities manage to give you a cursory glance and wave once in a while!But glancing at you and replying?you really think you are worth those precious seconds of the life of a riksha/taxiwala?so what if you are screaming your lungs out waiting for 20 minutes for a cab to take you to your particular destination?So what if by rules they are not supposed to decline a customer?so what if declining by saying no just takes an ounce of energy more than driving past you,slapping you with the swishing air?If by chance the day comes that some lone taxiwala hears you and shakes his head to convey a “no”,thank your stars…go and chadhao some Prasad at some temples…do all the important stuff that day…for that is the auspicious day,a taxiwala acknowledged you.Yes,be grateful.

Let’s say it’s your lucky day and your destination matches with the destination the cabbie wants to go to.You will get to sit in that coveted seat of the cab which is more sought after than the KBC hotseat.If you are a girl,travelling alone especially,you might also get checked out surreptitiously. Be grateful,he is giving you a ride.The fact that you are paying him doesn’t matter.He is the boss,no matter what’s the direction of the money flow.Hence obviously you have to bow down to his impertinence when he says “ I am going to drop you at the main road.i have to go straight.”  Just nod your head and say “yes sir…I will pay you full money for dropping me halfway!”  If you have the audacity to even utter “But…” be prepared to face their wrath.

 A few months back it was one of those days where a last minute plan is made and you need to reach the theatre in 10 minutes to catch a movie.I thanked my stars as I found one lone cab waiting outside. The driver was standing beside it leisurely while another man was cleaning his vehicle for him.I asked the driver whether he would take me to my desired location.Miraculously,he acquiesced (I don’t think I would be this happy even when a guy agrees to marry me).But the man continued to clean. Out of courtesy I waited,hoping the driver would tell the man to stop as he had a customer waiting.( how naïve…I forgot the very first rule of taxi drivers: You don’t need customers,the customers need you!)obviously,no such signs.Then I explained to the driver that I was in a hurry.Reluctantly,with a heavy heart,he told the man to finish the job later.I got into the cab.All was well. He had not even driven 100 metres when I noticed the meter wasn’t working.I asked him and he replied “don’t worry I know how much it will cost”. I have extreme trust issues with some people,with taxi drivers topping the list.So skeptically I asked him what his estimate was. Luckily I knew the route and I knew what it would cost me. And as it turned out,my doubts weren’t baseless as he quoted an amount which was double of the usual fare.When I told him it costs half the price he was telling me,he just blatantly stopped the car and told me to find another cab.As I was in a hurry I tried to tell him nicely again that I need to get to the theatre and I know the right price that should be charged.He looked through the mirror and pompously asked” what would you have done if my cab wasn’t here?” yes,he actually said those words. I could feel my blood boiling and had I not been in a hurry there would have been one hell of a scene to witness that day.I merely replied”there would have been someone else” and got off.Oh wait,it isn’t over. He had the audacity to ask me to pay him for those 100 odd metres after he had tried to charge me double the price on the basis of a faulty meter and had made me get off when I was getting late.Oh yes,he had the nerve. While there was a kung-fu master kicking his ass in my brain,I calmed myself down,pointed to the non-working meter and said” sure,I will pay you whatever the meter says” and walked off.Fortunately I found a cab right across the street. But this guy wasn’t done yet. As I was getting into the new cab he called out to it’s driver and said “20 rupaiye jyada lena “ and drove off.

This was just one of the incidents.I have had enough bad experiences to write a book.And all the mumbaikars together could probably fill up a library.My point of all this  ranting is, I am excruciatingly frustrated of their behavior. What happened to those days where the customer was treated like the king?Forget treating  them like a king,at least treat them politely,not even because they are the customers,but by the virtue of sheer humanity.The taxis are expanding in number and yet,there is a scarcity of them.Today in Mumbai,even though the public transport is really good,it isn’t sufficient to meet the necessities of the population.The layout and traffic of the city renders the public transport infeasible in some places.Boycotting cabs won’t work.Trust me,I have tried doing so on several occasions and failed (Most of the times because my laziness overpowered my indignation and I succumbed to the comforts of travelling in a cab albeit at a higher cost and an even higher mental trauma).So what is the solution? The taxi/rikshaw drivers aren’t going to become nice by reading this post! It’s time the people take some stringent measures.The laidback ‘raat-gayi-baat-gayi’ attitude of mumbaikars won’t do anymore. Maybe complaining to the RTO or a regular traffic police won’t give you immediate result,but if we keep up our casual attitude it DEFINITELY won’t give a result.

        

 

Many a times,the reason people behave in a particular bad manner is because they know they can get away with it. And how much are we just going to crib and just share outrageous experiences with each other?It’s time we take some action against this.So the next time a taxiwala says no,just remember –

As per the Maharashtra Motor Vehicles Act, Section 22 (d) 178 (3) (b), “Auto rickshaw driver Refusing to ply for hire” attracts a penalty of Rs. 100, and it goes up to Rs. 200 for a Taxi refusing to ply.

You can register a complain with the toll free number of RTO (1800-22-0110) against taxi and rikshaw drivers refusing to ferry you

Did you know there was an app for frustrated people like us?an auto/taxi complaint app which claims that it sends our complaints to the RTO.

https://play.google.com/store/apps/details?id=com.saurabh.mumbaiautocomplaint&hl=en

Now I have absolutely no idea whether complaining would help,but I know that trying won’t hurt at least. At the most,this system would be useless too.Well in that case,we would have just one more thing to complain about then!yayy!

So let us all collectively give it a shot.Let us at least try and use the tools that we have been provided with.

Let’s go get them!

 

 

Ancient = Classic

 

When I was a kid…I mean,a kid as per age standards established by society…I would keep hearing people talk about classic books,classic movies and classic shows.It seemed the kind of things that sophisticated and grown up people would discuss.And as a kid I obviously thought,like other kids did,that it would be so much fun to be an adult(oh,ignorance!).So I thought to myself I MUST like these classic books and movies that people seem to revere. I tried reading some of them and even watch some of the movies.I really can’t say whether they were good or bad,because,to tell the truth,I never got to the ending.I would really try to reach the end and not leave anything halfway…but they were oh-so-slow!I would try to tell myself that they were slow to increase my patience…because if I have to be a grown up,I need to have that quality.But then they spoke in such fancy words!Why couldn’t they just have dialogues like “you are a jerk!” or “go to hell!”?Why did they have to have long sentences with equivalent sentiments but just longer words?But perhaps that’s how grown ups operate…they try to sound all high and mighty even when they are stooping to the lowest of the levels.Perhaps…that’s the grown up “style”!

For me classics had come to be synonymous with boring (I vehemently tried to deny I was bored by them…I honestly tried to be interested in them so that I could belong to the sophisticated circle…I swear,I did..but,damn it,I couldn’t!).Classics were something that only the grown-ups and the sophisticated understood apparently.They were definitely something that belonged to a different era and would never be something that we could ever comprehend(yes…there I said it!bye bye sophistication!).In short classics were ancient.

The day I knew what a “classic” truly meant ,was the day I was watching some rather (comparatively) uneventful episode of the show “F.R.I.E.N.D.S”  for what was probably the 4^th time.My mother came and asked me to go get something from the store(if you ever need a good enough reason for having kids…remember- they are very useful for running errands!).As a habit,when I am really engrossed in something that has captured my attention…I,by default,say”two minutes!” regardless of what the previous dialogue was.So I did.And while I was on my way to the neighborhood general store,I realised that it was a show which would never get old.It was a show which I would watch and watch and watch again some more,but never get bored.It was something that I had a connection with,such,that it would last the test of time and fashion.Perhaps a few jokes would lose meaning in the future because the context might not be understandable then,but this was one of the series that would continue to capture the minds of people hundreds of years younger to me even after the author had died,and the first generation of fandom had passed on.This was a classic.

I realised “ a classic” was completely opposite of what I had thought it to be.It was something that interested everybody.It was not something high and mighty( can you imagine saying “ harry potter is  my favourite book “in  a job interview or on my CV and sounding sophisticated?probably Ayn Rand or Malcolm Gladwell would still guarantee some credibility,but harry potter?There is the kid’s section my friend!But 50 years from now maybe…hello classic section!)And it definitely wasn’t something that belonged to a different era.In fact, classics are something that belong to every era.Paradoxically,classics are not ancient…classics are a modern phenomenon  in every generation and  a novelty and a refreshener on every visit that you pay them.In short,Classics are eternal.

The ideal woman is vulnerable.

Have you ever seen indian television soaps and found them repetitive? Every show has the same household drama,one villain,one hero,and a lot of misunderstanding between characters leading to feuds which last for a hundred odd episodes.But the most common feature of all these indian serials is the lead female character.Apart from the face,nothing changes.Usually the lead character is based on what the people like to see…the lead character is the epitome of all that is ideal and desirable in a person. Now let us see what does the indian female lead have as her striking characteristics…

1.She is the most cultured single woman of marriageable age in whole of India.

When you say “cultured” in Indian terms,it means –

1. The said girl wears ONLY punjabi dresses and sarees because,well,obviously,wearing jeans and tops mean that you are a westernized girl aka spoilt girl(also note that many of the times a simple tshirt and pair of jeans reveal less skin than a simple saree does..but hey,it’s still worse than a saree!)

2.She knows how to cook and makes the best food in the whole world.I mean come on,the ideal girl has to know cooking,duh!

3.She is a morning person i.e. she ALWAYS wakes up before everyone else. ALWAYS.God forbid if you are a nocturnal creature…because hey,early to bed and early to rise makes a man healthy wealthy and wise…oh but wait,it is completely alright if her husband is a late sleeper.

4.She is extremely polite.What she truly is,is a bloody good tactful diplomat.But hey,that’s just “sanskar” you know?pity you can’t manipulate people like that.

5.She NEVER back answers…not even if it isn’t her fault..how will the story progress unless there is a lot of misunderstanding and confusion…that’s the key ingredient!

2.She is highly educated,a top-of-her-class graduate but prefers to remain a housewife to “take care of the family and be a strong pillar of support to her working husband”

It is an unsaid,unwritten understanding among the indian populace that a working woman cannot dedicate enough time to her family and hence cannot take enough care of her family and hence is thereby unideal to be portrayed as the lead character in a family drama.Of course there will be a twist in the tale when the husband’s business is in a pickle and this Godloving,devoted housewife sets her foot in the outside world and kicks ass thus saving her family from eternal doom.But always wearing a saree,of course,that’s non-negotiable.

3.She has to have a reservoir of tears in her eyes.In other words,she is super-raised-to-infinity sensitive.

So it’s not your fault huh?let’s start crying so that everyone believes that you are innocent.But do NOT in any circumstances open your goddamn mouth and explain the truth.No one would believe you that way obviously…but crying..now that is one hell of an idea!so you don’t know what to do?just cry!you are lost in some unknown place?just cry!don’t worry…ideal girls get solutions by crying!Maybe after two episodes of crying,she will say to herself in a determined voice that she wont cry anymore and that she will fight and find a solution…oh well,happy realisation!tubelight!which brings me to my last and most important and common characteristic-

4.She is DUMB.(I have absolutely no other way of stating this since I have no tact,what-so-ever.I am never going to be an ideal girl!)

So the lead character is in a moral dilemma (she is ALWAYS in a moral dilemma!). She thinks to herself….what should she do now? There is a practical feasible solution and then there is a solution which would require the ultimate sacrifice and self torture.OBVIOUSLY the second alternative is the right path.There would be a time where a cunning and shrewd villain(usually a female who wears loud clothes and tons of make-up as opposed to this simplistic beauty) has planned and plotted against the lead character who is now in a trap.And you ask what kind of plot that was?something even a blind animal would see coming…but our lead character is so simple and sweet and so naïve and trusting that she wouldn’t for a moment think that the character who has stabbed her in the back a hundred times would do something like that.Oh,she truly,from the bottom of the heart believes that she had managed to bring about a change of heart in the bad character the last time she lectured her/him about ethics and moral values. So when she comes to know how the true character of the “villain”,obviously she is VERY VERY SHOCKED!(remember,the camera showing her face from 3 different angles with a definitive background sound?!) The serial only ends when she finally does manage to turn the evil into a saint because that is exactly what happens in real life,right? The truth is most of the times the answer to ALL her problems is so obviously staring her in the face that even the devoted audience will feel like screaming at her…HOW CAN YOU BE SO STUPID? But yet people will continue to watch the show,shaking their head at the wrong choices she is making, just to see how she will come out of the mess.

But you got to hand it to these story makers/directors.Not only do they manage to get a stupid lead character but they manage to get audience hooked on to watching her stupidity.This just speaks volumes about the intelligence level of the audience.What surprises me the most is that even though the majority of the audience is female,which is why the shows are centered around women, how can they stand such atrocious slandering of the female intelligence?For a show,or for that matter any product, to be a hit among the general populace,they have to give them what they want.So does this imply that the indian public WANT  such characters to be potrayed as the lead roles?Is this what the indian public look up to and idolise and consider the role model of  perfect woman?It is okay for a woman to be sensitive and naïve and not know the ways of the world but the moment she stands up for herself and is smart and self sufficient she is cast in a negative light?Men have always treated women inferior and I would be outraged by such sexism and generalisation that all women are weaker and less smarter than men but what is even more shameful is that, not only men but even women believe in this school of thought.

Feminity and vulnerabilty have come to be synonymous in the indian vocabulary.It is a sorry sight to see women go out of their way to fulfil the need of the men to be the knight in shining armour or to give a boost to their male ego.And there are these tv shows to bombard the household women with such ideas of perfection.How do someone’s clothes determine the “cultured-ness” of that girl?Is a woman who cooks good food,good at heart too?Why is the job requirement of being the heroine,making sacrifices?This is the state of indian television and indian mentality.Why shouldn’t I watch english shows then?I would rather watch gory murders than the gruesome rape of human intelligence.It is high time that people wake up and are bold enough to make shows which portray values which should be revered in the modern day and not stone age.Maybe if the idea of a strong independent woman is bombarded and imprinted on the brain through such media,people might actually embrace that concept and accept such a woman without thinking of her as an abomination to the indian culture.Because,honestly,how can you expect men to think women are equivalent to them when there are women who don’t think so themselves?

I love being tired…

I love being tired.i love being thoroughly,utterly exhausted.I love it when my brain and/or body has been exerted to such an extent that it begs and cries for a respite.No,i am not a masochist.But sometimes there is more pleasure in pain than in rest.The pleasure isn’t in the current condition,it is in the summary of activities which has brought about that condition.I had rather be depleted of energy than have a surplus of it which is not being put into use.There have been days when i have sat on the couch,with the television remote at one side,and my laptop at the other.when there were no more channels to surf or I couldn’t find anything interesting enough on the internet,i would put the laptop aside and sleep on the same couch.And there have been days when i have had so much work that the only thought that kept me going,was the warm bed which would finally welcome me at the end of the day and the next and the next.

I realised this when there was a time when i was doing so many activities that i actually had to run from one place to another to stay true to the virtue of punctuality.I would return home so tired,that i wouldn’t even bother checking my facebook notifications.In fact i did not get time or the inclination to check facebook or browse the internet,for a week.And that was a huge thing.Because I was one of those people who think they can live a perfectly happy life if provided with a place to sleep,good food and an excellent internet connection and downloading speed.I liked being active.I like telling people ‘i am busy’ and actually meaning it.Usually when i said ‘i am busy’ it just meant i am too bored to do that particular thing at that moment and/or i have something more interesting to do,say,like watching a video of a monkey dancing.I would actually revel in making a list of things which i was doing and i had to do and tick them out one by one.

There will be days when you call up your friends to hang out and they all will be busy and you would be the only one who has nothing to do.There will be days when all your friends are free and are making plans and you will be the only one who is busy.I’d rather be the only one who is busy than the only one who is not.It is tough to be busy.Sometimes we might feel like we have a demanding schedule,but is it really all that demanding?we keep on saying ‘I don’t have time’.That is one line which has been the serial killer of dreams.It is only when time is utilised that you find more time for utilising. Just like how evaporation in turn leads to more water,instead of it getting depleted.
How would you know the difference between actually being active and being pseudo-active?You ll know it the moment your head hits the pillow.If in that moment such mundane philosophical thoughts don’t come into your brain and your mind drifts off to sleep instantaneously,then yes,you have had a fulfilling day.It might have been good or bad,but it kept you on your toes,which is why your head is so thankful of the pillow beneath it at that time.

Coming to think about it,all humans want is happiness.Most people strive so that they can have a good night’s sleep free of any burdens and bothers.That is what being tired does.I had watched a local skit where a rich housewife goes to a therapist because she can’t sleep peacefully at night.The therapist wasn’t there,but the janitor was cleaning his office.He told the woman,all she had to do was walk around the temple ten times everyday.There wasn’t any religious purpose to this.The only purpose was to make the woman so exhausted that she would sleep peacefully.the religious aspect was to only make it look like a superstition as people still believed more in superstition than science,especially when it came from a layman.The point is,we live to get tired!

There are days in everyone’s life where there is a certain sort of lull.Everything is the same old.Your reply to all ‘watsups?’ and ‘what’s new?’ becomes ‘nothing much’.We all need to spice up our lives a bit.Shake off that lethargic rust which has settled onto our daily routines.Do something different.It may be something as simple as riding on a cycle to work or something as adventurous as sky diving.It is only when our mind remains occupied that it will be at perfect peace.I dont believe that emptying the mind gives you inner peace.I believe in filling it up.I believe in trying new things.I believe in variety being the spice of life.Usually in life everything happens at once or nothing happens at all.I would pray that let everything happen together.I will find a way to handle that.The other way round,i am not so sure.

It is said that life is full of ups and downs,mountains and valleys.But there are also plateaus and plains.People think that the opposite of happiness is melancholy.I think its monotony.I had rather face a tough situation everyday than go through the same easy situation again and again.Life is too short and every minute is too priceless to say ‘i am bored’.I had rather be up and running all the time than be down and lying.Because at the end of the day,it is not the softness of the mattress or the shape of the pillow,neither the temperature of the room nor the material of the blanket that ensures your sweet sleep;It is the day’s work which makes a good night.It is the sense of accomplishment.And i love that feeling.And if the only way to achieve it is by being utterly exhausted,then yes…i would love to be tired everyday.

The ‘Habit’

The history of the maratha kingdom,the life and the times of Shivaji maharaj formed a very important part of the Indian history; or at least the state board History text books!The stories always fascinated me; they seemed more like fiction than reality.The fact that they were from an era which was as bygone as the attires they wore, gave them an out-of-the-world feel.The stories of valour and courage which were told to us by our proud parents and grandparents had a larger-than-life touch to them.I respected the tales and the heroes immensely but when I was told that small groups of skinny ‘mawala’s had defeated enormous giant armies of the moghul rulers by sheer geurilla tactics,superior agility and infinite bravery and loyalty,I found it a bit of an exaggeration and accepted it,but with a pinch of salt…until i went on a trek into those very mountains one day.

I had gone with my usual group of novice trekkers and a couple of instructors who were professionals in mountaineering and had probably worn down many soles from trekking.We were all from the city-side  -burger-eating, elevator-using individuals. Of course,many of us regularly dabbled in physical exercise and were, what you called ‘fit’…by city standards,at least.So naturally most of us weren’t prepared for the mental shocks that were going to ensue.

Our course of travel was going to stray from the usual path and man-made road, so we had to take the help of the locals there so that we could reach our destination without making the route longer than it already was.The locals were skinny men,with darkened complexion,tanned,undoubtedly because of the hours they spent outdoors unlike the urban populace.They wore simple clothes,something from their daily use and weather-beaten footwear which couldn’t match the best branded shoes we had come armed with.

We started off confidently,excited and enthusiastic.While our energy decreased by the minute,it was our enthusiasm that kept us going later on.The local men were leading the group,showing us the way.No matter how fast we walked,we couldn’t just match their speed.We would take a stop,panting and wondering whether our lungs had got punctured.After few exhausting hours,the symptoms of wobbly legs and weak knees had started surfacing.We stopped for breaks.But before we did,we had to call out to the locals and signal them to stop,lest they went out of our sight before we were done recuperating.I marveled at how easy the entire exercise seemed for them.One look at them reminded me of those people strolling in the garden with no tension in the world,while we were struggling to keep our feet moving,one step at a time.

Clothes baked in sweat and throats dry,the shortage of water sharply reminded us,that water will always be the king of beverages.While we were finishing bottles of water that we were carrying and even then crying for more,the local men just continued like a robot with the same level of functionality as it was initially.There was a different kind of grace in their walk,a special kind of confidence.I felt that even if we pushed them,they wouldn’t lose their balance.I remembered those days in my childhood when I played ‘chor-police’ in my neighbourhood. I was so good at finding hidey-holes and escape routes(My tiny size being an added advantage…although today it might be unbelievable that I was ever ‘tiny’!) that I was confident that even if the army,navy and airforce combined forces they wouldn’t be able to catch me. I could see that kind of confidence in the locals.The thought behind the confidence in both the cases was the same.’This was MY territory.’ 

There were a few tricky parts in the trek. Places where we felt that one wrong step could send us tumbling down the hill.But the locals? I think they probably felt these tricky parts were as inconsequential as a fly humming near the ear. We were flabbergasted at their skill. Exhausted,we somehow managed to overcome these parts and finish the trek for the day. It consumed our energy but with the right amount of breaks at the right times,our zest for the quest made us feel as good as new and we carried on leaving behind the fatigue and neglecting the pain. All of us knew that the pain in our limbs the next day was going to be excruciating. So we did the one thing that we could-tried not to think about it.Let’s cross the bridge when we come to it.

The next day,we again started off,but with a new set of locals.We had to cover a long distance that day and we had almost mentally prepared ourselves for that.But still the locals always excelled..and how!Of course,it is only natural that an urban denizen cannot compete with the local person,but when the local guy walked ahead of us and had to wait for us to catch up,it got a bit humiliating!The intense shopping trips with my mother had helped in building up my stamina and endurance power.But when I saw the local guy sitting on a rock,way ahead of us,with a bored expression on his face,like a boss,I felt ashamed of myself.I resolved that somehow when I get back to the city,I would do more physical exercise than just walking from the couch to the refrigerator everyday.

The last segment of the journey was a part with a rocky terrain.The locals had given us 2 options-half an hour of an uneven terrain or 3 hours of easier flat land.And despite of the numerous proverbs and sayings that we have been hearing all over the years,naturally we unanimously decided on the shortcut.But then the half hour,turned into an hour and soon into two.We had to walk in a single file and even though the land wasn’t all that tough,it was perilous.One foot to the right and the next land that your feet will encounter would be several hundred feet below.For people who had barricaded balconies even on the ground floor,it is easy to imagine how scary this was.And then we saw the locals…Jumping from one rock to the other!Barefoot!After I managed to close my mouth,which had opened due to the immediate dropping of my jaw,I managed to ask that uncle (In India,every man who is elder to you is your uncle and every female is your aunty) how did he manage to do that.He simply shrugged and said,’Habit’.

The local uncle told us had we not been there to hinder his progress,he would have reached the base in 10 minutes and climbed back in 15.He told us his son walked 25 kilometers everyday for his education.And here I was…feeling like it was an achievement to cover 30 kilometers in 3 days! After this brief chat,he continued onward,with his swift movements and helped others who weren’t as gifted as he was.I looked at his feet.Perhaps evolution was the answer.Maybe he had grown an extra toe,like the opposable thumb which helped him adapt to this surroundings.But no luck there!

This was the first time,I could actually picturise and believe those mawalas defeating the mighty army in this territory.I had read and I thought I understood what ‘as agile as a monkey’ and ‘ as stealthy as a cat’ meant.But these locals redefined it for me.I was awed by their ability,skill and swiftness.I envied their strength,secretly knowing that how much ever I train,I probably wont be able to match the kind of skill the locals had.That was special.That was the gift of the soil.That day I could absorb the magnitude of greatness that the marathi mawalas represented.All the stories about the capturing of forts and guerilla warfare during the night time flashed in front of my eyes.All I could do was marvel,and marvel,and…marvel.

There have been great many songs written for the foot soldiers of the Shivaji era,but I don’t think I have truly ever realised their contribution and ability.The trek humbled me.It made me respect people who did things,I could only dream of doing.It made me realise how weak my body was and how strong my body could be.It made me realise that enthusiasm is as important as energy.It brought me in contact with nature and under the starry skies and into the unpolluted air.

I will take this opportunity to salute the numerous mawalas, the numerous unsung heroes during the ancient times and the local village people in today’s modern era,who still live the same lifestyle,eating the same bhakri. City people might progress and reach the skies,but these are the people who are in touch with the ground. They were,are and always will be an integral part of our beloved Maharashtra.

 JAI BHAVANI!JAI SHIVAJI!

Our Pedophile System

Exams suck. Period. I mean, what is the whole point of their existence? People are just sadistic and love to torture kids. A cruciatus curse would be more welcome. Exams take a toll on your health. You turn into sleep deprived and facebook-starved creatures. At the end of writing the paper, you are mentally exhausted, irrespective of whether the exam was good or bad. If it was good, you probably got tired writing…if it was bad, you probably got tired just sitting those two hours looking around and sharing we-are-doomed grins with your friends across the hall. And anyway after all this mind-numbing exercise, if you get bad marks, your parents kill you. If you get good marks, your friends do the honour. But the main question is, do these exams actually teach you anything?

The current education system is such that a person who knows the definition word to word is considered better than the person who actually understands the definition. Everyone studies for two days and after the exam everyone forgets everything. No one remembers what they had studied the last semester… but somehow everyone remembers the nursery rhymes they had learnt years back. Is it perhaps because, ironically, we are becoming dumber as we grow up? What was so different when we were kids?I think it was because learning was fun then. We used to actually love our teachers. I still go to meet my kindergarten teacher but i don’t even want to see the face of my high school teachers. May be we have also changed… our interests and focus has changed. But so have our professor’s attitude. Teaching has just become a money generating occupation. They teach disinterestedly, we study disinterestedly. And how cruel can they be!A sir comes and announces a test just out of the blue and doesn’t even tell the portion till 1 day before! It is like they feed on our fear, bloody dementors!I told my friend this and she said,’No, they are pedophiles… they just like screwing us!’
The whole point of conducting is examinations is to find out the cream of the class.They are meant to be the seive to highlight the best of the students.And what about the others? No one bothers about them like they are the worthless pebbles found while sifting.But can you gurantee that the currect design of the exams is good enough to find the best students? How does mugging up answers and puking them out on a paper decide the intelligence,i ask.If all you wanted was a good memory,a 1TB hard disk will do the job,why train the brains? How can a person prove his capability within 3 hours? Is knowing the date of the invention of a device more important than understanding its functionality?The kind of questions examiners come up with just to check how thoroughly the students have studied,fail to check the basic point of the necessity of exams-how well do the students know this subject? While the professors set the paper,they should try and make it such that it has an impact on the student’s thinking and not just his grades.Exams should test the smartness and not just the intelligence of the students.

These days all we do is read, by-heart, write. Assignments are always copied. Journals are completed sitting in front of the TV. At this rate the homo sapein sapien is going to evolve into xerox machine soon. The current education system needs to be changed. Why do people go abroad for higher studies,apart from getting a new experience? The other countries have a better system.They bother. They have better resources. Better facilities. If we Indians can copy everything from a logo to an entire movie,why dont we copy something that is actually worth copying? It doesnt take much money or resources to change the current examination and grading system. All we need is efforts. We need professors who are interested in teaching because they want to impart knowledge and not just because they need their salary cheque to buy a new air conditioner for their home. I have been fortunate enough to know professors who have gone out of their way and taught students even though they got paid peanuts. I have seen the efforts they put in. I have seen the efforts the students put in because of them. I have seen a last ranker getting better marks than the first ranker in a test devised by such professors to test the smartness. I have seen a last bencher solve a problem faster than the first bencher,at the same time secretly eating his tiffin. This has humbled me. Today i do not dare to right some one off as a dumb person.

I know the potential our country has.The current system is suffocating the talent. Our grading system and examination pattern depresses students to the point of committing a suicide. This saddens me.Either change the examination system or demolish it. Give us exams which are worth appearing for or dont give us exams at all. Only a few students manage to shine in this system. Our country has the capability of shining like the milky way but it still remains to be a mere dim constellation of just a few stars. This needs to be changed, and soon.

 p.s-Here is an article about an effective grading system adopted in MIT

http://web.mit.edu/fnl/volume/204/winston.html

The magical refuge

I believe that every reader is a potential writer. Every writer has been inspired by some book or the other. The authors that he has read have influenced his thinking, perspective and attitude which is indirectly reflected in his writing. So today if you can even make one person fall in love with this amazing world of books, you are not only giving him an escape route from all the troubles of the world or an abode where he can find some solace during his trying times, but you never know, you might have just ignited the spark that will go on to become your next favourite author.