Project 2020 Revisit

I am sorry blog for not coming back on in February.

Yes my 2020 plan is on :)

Project 2020

I started my project 2020 yesterday. I'll revisit this post every-year in February to note my observations from the year bygone on this project.

Act of love

I feel that act of love is ubiquitous among many acts of our near and dear ones, friends and family and the loved ones. I always feel that all these acts of love are guided by the God himself. Here are my two stories of act of love in which I strongly believe that God had something to do:

The sunny day

It was a sunny summary day when the sun was at his fiercest mood. I was down with infections in nose and ears and high fever, and had just come out consulting a doctor. I was standing beside the road with my head down and eyes closed, too tired to be able to try to catch an auto to go home. Suddenly, one auto came and halted in front of me, and was waiting for me. Instinctively, I approached the auto driver, who was a middle aged man with unshaved beard, to ask if he would come to Uttarahalli. Without any word the man put the meter down and started the auto. He was ready to go wherever I wanted as if someone sent him to take me home!

The old man

It was any regular day. I got ready to go to office and when I was crossing the park near my house I could see an old man in white kurta and dhoti sitting under a tree, apparently begging! He didn’t look like those professional beggars and his clothes didn’t show the signs of living on the street. He looked tired, exhausted and hungry. I felt a pang in my heart and wished I could help him. But I was getting late for the office. But one idea hit me and I realized I could help him. I called home and asked my mother to send some food in a paper plate to the man sitting under the tree. Later I came to know the rest of the story. When my brother took some roti and sabzi and a bottle of water to the man, he kept asking my brother “Is this for me, really?” He was completely ignorant about how the God had just showed his love through someone he would never know. I have never seen that man again.



---Wrote this up for the office newsletter to be published under "Act of Love"---

Even Unseen Dreams also Fulfill

Aren't we constantly running to fulfill our dreams?

Sometimes we can fulfill them after years of perseverance....sometime the unfulfillment of those dreams prick so badly that even the thought of following them leaves a bitter taste in the mouth.

For me, I have fulfilled a lot of my dreams and have a lot of dreams unfulfilled as well, which I do not wish to follow anymore.

But, there are are certain dreams that I never dared to see but got fulfilled. One such unseen dream got fulfilled today. And hence the post.

When I was staying in Kolkata, I was a stueednt. I and my sister used to stay in a private ladies hostel. Now when I look back, I cannot believe that we lived those days. It seems like a movie that I finished watching now. I will write in detail about those days sometime later, as this post is simply not about remembering those cruel yet funfilled and simple days.

We were staying in Baghajatin while we had to go to Park Street to attend our classes. Our bus used to take the route via Hazra and via Elgin road. In Elgin road, there was the biggest show room of P C Chandra jewellers bright with yellow lights and well protected behind iron gates and two armed guards at the gate. Everytime my bus used to cross that showroom, when I used to be mostly balancing myself while standing in the thick crowd in the bus, I never even dreamt that one day I would go and purchase anything from that shop.

Today after what feels like an eternity, when I was buying earrings from P C Chandra(not from the Elgin road showroom, but the M G Road shworoom in Bangalore), I thought that this definitely calls for a blog post. I also realized that may be there is no such thing as "imposiible". After all, we never know what is really there in the store of future - both good and bad, who knows...

Fake Fake World

The world is so fake. Sometime I feel I am living inside a departmental store where everything, or should I say "everyone?", around me is wrapped in plastic pack. I know that we all know this and that we all see this phenomenon happening around us everyday, but here is the incident that triggered this post.

On Monday we had gone for a team lunch to meet one counter partner of our project who was working from USA. He happens to be an Indian but settled in the USA. During the lunch I could see that everyone from our team, which is six ladies (including me), were on their toes to impress him. Most notably the lady in red, who was the manager of the project for some time, took the best care possible of him. She went out of her way to make him feel special. After the lunch I along with two other ladies got into the car of lady in red and she dropped us at office.

But I couldnt believe what happened next. The moment she got into the car, the lady in red started criticizing our guest like hell. I couldnt believe that she disliked him so much as from her behaviour I imagined she was very appreciative of the guest and his contribution to the project. Then another lady, who was furiously putting make up in the lift, joined the lady in red, criticizing the guest over his looks. And then another lady who came in a special new dress that day, started bad mouthing him about how that person disturbs him in her work.

I understand the reaction of other two ladies as they were trying to impress the lady in red, after all she was a manager. But I could never understand the way lady in red baheved. If she disliked him so much then she had all the reasons not to turn up for the lunch. It was not mandetory after all. And I really cant understand how she was sweet to him when she disliked him so much!

Another incident of super fake attitude of the same day: That day I along with two other ladies (the lady with make up and the lady with new dress) shared an auto to reach the venue. On the way we were chatting about things one or two. Then I realized that the other two ladies were discussing something, and I missed what they had said so I asked them "what did you say?"...these two ladies pretended that they didnt hear me. So, at that very moment I knew what it was about. These two ladies are up for the promotion for lead positions. So, they are talking about the upcoming test and interviews and meeting schedules and etc. As per my company policy, these issues are not to be discussed in public. These issues are not even discussed among two participating employees. But since these ladies are friends so there is no harm doing that. But what was odd that they were discussing this in my presence and i am not participating in this process. Then why are they doing this? The answer to this question lies in the super fake attitude that people in my company posses in abundance. When in presence with people with lower positions, the people in higher positions get partial blindness and they dont see or cant hear people from lower positions. For example, in this situation I am a developer and these two ladies are soon going to be leads...so they dont see me sitting there or they dont hear me asking questions....for them I dont exist. They will see me and hear me when they will want to.

Mental Slavery

The movie Mary Kom has released. I am sure in next couple of hours all those I-am-a-great-Hollywood-buff would start screaming that it's a copy paste of Million Dollar Baby.

No? You dont think Mary Kom is a rip off of Million Dollar Baby? Please, you must be kidding. Can't you see Priyanka is practicing in the ring like Hillary Swank? Cant you see she is a boxer like Hillary? What? Mary Kom is based on a real life story of Mary Kom from India? But, who is Mary Kom? Whatever, I am not interested in all these GK...please keep these geeky stuff to yourself...I follow only NBA and Whitehouse politics...what the crap are you talking about?

Well, that's pretty much the type of people we have in India now, who have no respect for their country and grossly believe that all Bollywood movies are copy paste of Bollywood movies even if the Bollywood movie realead earlier!!! For exameple, I have heard hundreds of people saying how Maine Pyar Kyun Kiya (MPKK) released in 2005 is a complete rip-off of Just Go with It (JGWI) released in 2011!!! It's a different thing that both these movies are loosely based on Cactus Flower released in 1969...so interestingly no one is calling JGWI a rip-off....but MPKK? Oh, it's a blatant copy.

So, essentially we have a generation coming up who are mentally slaves to USA, UK, or any developed country for that matter. They believe it with every drop of their blood that everything that happens in India is crap, and everything happening in USA is great. They watch Hollywood movies, they watch English serials....i know people who dont know the name of Hrithik Roshan and they are so proud of it. They cant even think of watching a Hindi serial or a Hindi movie.

I watch both Hindi and English serails...I have my likes and dislikes in both the groups. I watch movies made in Hindi, English, Bengali. I never had this feeling that all movies made in English are better than all movies made in Hindi or Bengali. Again, I have my likes and dislikes in both the groups. I have seen rotten English movies (they are successful commercially though and I see so many people going ga ga over them) and I have seen the greatest of Hindi and Benglai movies...Even though I watch a lot of English movies and serails, I never felt like looking down upon Hindi or Bengali stuff. I can neve believe in the fact that everything that comes out in English is better than everything that is made in Hindi or Bengali.

So, I really dont know where these people are going. No matter how much they try, they will remain Indian the entire life...no matter how much they hate their own culture or own people and no matter where they go in the world, they will always be associated with India and its culture and its movies and its people. No matter how much excellance they gain in English languagae, their mother tongue will never be English and they will always be tagged as "non-native English speakers". No matter how great their knowledge in Hollywood in, they still might be victim of racist attack in USA for being an Indian.

Then why not stop running after to be someone they are not? Then why not start appreciating what they have?

What a Shame

A protector of rapists, that's what the Kolkata CM is...instaed of captching the rapists, she would go ahead and harrass the victims and would save the rapists under her pallu.

http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/city/kolkata/21-year-old-gang-raped-on-busy-Kolkata-road/articleshow/29106633.cms

Romancing Melancholy

I am not a person who romances melancholy. Ufortunately, I have come across some people who draw immense pleasure from being sad, pathetic and miserable. They find so much pleasure out of it that they would go to any extent to prove themselves to be the most wretched person of the world. They would argue for hours countering every positive aspect of the world to prove that they live in a world that is hell. I could never understand what they achieves out of it? What do theyr achieve out of proving themselves to be so wretched..so much that people would say "Oh...I pity him/her"...will that bring any happiness to the life?

I for eaxmple, when come across such a soul, as a natural instinct, try to cheer that person up. I try to set myself as an example that nothing is more valuable than life. I try to prove that being happy is not a crime. You can be happy even if you dont have a dream job, even if you dont have a life partner, even if you dont have a family and even if you dont have friends. But being sad and pathetic will never help you to have anything. But alas, their negativity is so strong that even I give up after sometime scared to have that negativity rooted inside myself!!!

I wonder. How many sad moments do I have in life? Couple of them. Did I ever feel like this is the end of a life? Yes, couple of times. Did I ever feel like being the most neglected person of the world? Again, many times. Did I ever feel like that I wont see the next day? Yes, many times.

Inpite of all that, do I always show myself who is in deseprate need of sympathy, pity and kindness from everyone?

No, I would never do that.

Good moments and bad moments are part of life, just like days and nights. We wont really cherish the good moments had we never had bad moments, sad moments. Those are the times (sad times I mean) when we really start valuing our life, family & freinds and the world. After that when we have the happy time, we start cherishing it even more than ever as if it's the bonus life.

But unfortunately, there are people who would start romancing their saddest moments even in the happiest time of their life. "Buddy, no one can help you in this world!"

But having said all of these, do I really fake my happiness? No, I don't. And people who think I fake my happiness, again, "Buddy, no one can help you in this world!"

No matter what happens, when someone comes to me and asks "hey, how are you doing?", I would always answer: "Great :D, what about you?"

What the heck?

I love to wear saree. I wear saree whenever I get a chance. So, I usually wear saree at least once a week to work.

But I am really sick and tired with the attitude people show. Some example:

1)Some colleague: "Hey, happy birthday!"... Me: "I don't celebrate my birthday every week!"

2)Some women: Ohh she's wearing saree. Vilager! A shame to our corporate lifestyle!!!

3)Some women: Circus!

4)Some men: Edible!

5)Some men: Where's "dress you like" party? I also want to go...I also want to go....I'll wear my golden sherwani with silver dupatta!!!!

Whether I want to entertain or not, everyday someone will come and say "Oh, how do you manage a cotton saree for whole day? I can't even manage for half an hour. I would not be able walk and would just sit the whole time".

But that day one lady said something which even surpasses everything I have heard until now: "Oh, how do you manage a saree? I would not even be able to breathe if I wear a saree!!!!"

Come on. This is just a saree. And am I not in India? Haven't we grown up seeing our mothers in saree? I don't know where this double standard attitude of people will end. Saree is supposed to be the most normal dress in India. But the way people behave as if I have come down from the Jupiter.

Anyway, I will continue wearing saree and keep avoiding all those prying, laughing, amazed, horrid eyes.

My Foot!

On Sunday, I had a fall just outside my house. It was very foolish of me and I am not going to explain how I fell. So, after the fall, I didn't realize much and only the next morning I figured out that I had hurt my right foot badly and it was swollen and it was hurting. But even before realizing anything, I was already there in the office.

People started coming to me with questions like "Hey, what happened? Why are you limpimg? Are you alright? Is there any problem in your leg?"

And I reply "MY FOOT!.....Oops...errrr..I mean I hurt my right foot. No pun intended!"

Footnote: If anyone cares out there...I am fine now after taking a medicine and a lot of care!

Another Unpublished Story - Reminiscence

Somedays back a friend of mine told me that Deccan Herald is holding a story writing competition, would I be interested to participate? I was all excited and thankful to him but the only problem that I found was that the last day for story submission was just 4 days away, the coming Sunday. At that time there was crazy work pressure going on in my office when almost everyday I was working for 15-16 hours. My weekends were also equally busy with swimming classes in the morning and music class in the evening. I was struggling to find at least two hours in my life to be able to write the story, whose idea was already there in my mind. On that Sunday, which was the last day to submit my story, my sister had to go to beauty parlour and I decided to accompany her there along with my laptop. So, sitting in the beauty parlour when my sister was getting her hair colured, I finished my story. After grammatical and typo corrections, I sent out the story. So, now when I read the story, I find a lot of places where the language could have been fine tuned and I'm not surprized that Deccan Herald decided not to publish the story. Here goes my story for my blog readers:

Reminiscence


The sound of a sudden gush of rain and a cold shiver through the body awoke Prabha up. She realized that she again had pushed her blanket out of the bed and was lying in cold. She felt a pang in the heart and couldn’t but help thinking about Shreedhar; how he always used to draw the blanket on her. After all these 17 years, she still misses him the way she used to miss him when she used to go to her parents’ house after marriage.

This day was a little different. It rained the whole night before. The mild and rhythmic sound of the tiny drops falling and crushing on concrete walls and roof had put her to deep sleep. After a long time she slept so sound. But the dreams, thousands of them, followed her faithfully too. She was transferred into the time when Nandini was born. Nandini is their first child. Shreedhar wanted a daughter and he was happy like a child when he saw the newborn’s face for the first time. Nandini was born with Prabha’s golden fair skin and Shreedhar’s dark eyes. Shreedhar had immediately come up with the name Nandini, which means daughter in Sanskrit! Karthik came to their lives much later.

It was late. She had missed her walk for today. It was still raining. She prepared a cup of coffee for herself and sat in her favourite spot by the window. She found it amusing that with no one fighting to get this favourite chair anymore, this chair actually had lost it charm. Now she sometimes sits in the chair on the opposite side of the table or sometimes even in the hall. She closed her eyes and could see how Shreedhar along with Nandini and Karthik would race for the chair and tease her. Her last resort was to mock anger and head towards the hall. That’s all was required. Now, all three of them would start running after her and would try to pacify her.

The wall clock rang 8 times. This wall clock was one indulgence of Shreedhar. Prabha was not particularly happy with the idea of having a wall clock at home, ringing every half an hour. But Shreedhar was too fond of this wall clock. He always used to say how he used to go to his uncle’s house in the neighbouring village and sit for hours in front of the wall clock to hear it ring. Shreedhar’s family was not affluent and he had a difficult childhood. But his merit and sincerity had brought him scholarship and had also earned the support from all his relatives, which helped him to complete Masters in Chemistry and thus start a career in Bangalore University. Now when Shreedhar is no more, she longs for the wall clock to ring and sometimes she sits for hours in front of the clock to hear it ring. There are so many habits she picked up in last 17 years that Shreedhar abandoned on the way.

Nandini would be calling anytime now. This is lunch time in Melbourne. When she goes for lunch, unless she is really busy with her students, she would call Prabha. Nandini is also like her father, a professor. She teaches Psychology. Nandini’d husband, Narayan is a scholar too and he is a professor of Mathematics. Sometimes Prabha wonders how many scholars she has around her, but no one is with her now to guide her as how she should cope with this gripping loneliness that tightens its clutch every passing day. How she should live with this vacuum that Shreedhar left behind him.

Karthik would call after one hour, after his dinner. Karthik lives in Denver. He is a software engineer and has chosen the USA his home like many other boys in the city. Karthik was more like Prabha, impatient and arrogant. He used to hate reading and used to get annoyed at almost everything. Shreedhar and Nandini would sit for hours and help him complete his homework. Prabha always used to wonder from where Shreedhar would bring so much patience and serenity. In her 34 years of marriage, she had never seen him lose his cool unless for once.

The door bell rang. Who could be there at this hour? Malathi is not coming today. She has gone to her village and would be back only after 3 days. Prabha couldn’t think of anyone else visiting her now. The bell rang again.

Prabha looked through the security hole. There is a man standing there, half drenched, holding an umbrella, with a clam face. She half opened the door with the safety latch still on. It’s not safe for old people to open door to strangers.

“Good morning madam. I am coming from the Shishu Sadan orphanage. Could you help our children with some donation?”

Prabha got alarmed. She said “I don’t have money with me. My son will come in the evening. Come then.” She lied. She didn’t want this stranger to let know that she’s alone in the house.

“No problem madam. If you want, you can give me old clothes, sweaters, blankets or even toys. Our organization gives shelter to orphans. Anything you give them is going to be of great help to them. If you want....

The phone started ringing. It must be Nandini. If she doesn’t answer the phone now, Nandini would get worried, Prabha thought. But the man was saying something else. She had to go and answer the phone now.

“Ok, come in the evening. I’ll see what I can find out” said Prabha in a hurry so that she could see the man off, closed the door and ran for the phone.

“Hi ma, what took you so long to answer the phone? Are you alright?” it was Nandini.

“Yes, I am alright. There was someone from an orphanage at the door. He wants help for the children there. I have asked him to come back in the evening.”

“Ma, don’t trust anyone. It may be just another crook. Be careful. Why have you asked him to come back in the evening? What are you planning to give him?”

“Let’s see if I find anything. May be some old clothes of yours, Karthik’s and your papa’s”

“What? You would give our old clothes? Ma, you can’t really trust some stranger and give away all our old clothes, we have such good memories! How can you even think.......

Prabha was thinking that it’s so easy for her children to demand something; even now when she’s at the end of her life. It’s easy for her daughter to tell her mother what to do or what not to sitting thousand miles away. But how should she live without trusting anyone? She’s alone here. She remembered her own mother. How she used to wait for Prabha and her kids to go and visit her, especially after her father had passed away. Prabha was their only child. But at that time, Prabha was so busy with her life with Shreedhar, Nandini and Karthik that she didn’t visit her mother for two years. How angry she was after they had gone to see her in Udupi after two years. Prabha was hurt with her mother’s outburst. But Shreedhar understood her mother even better than her. He explained her later how lonely her mother must have been all this while waiting for Prabha to visit her. Now at 78, she can understand what her mother had felt at that time. “Shreedhar, you were right then, like always.” thought Prabha.

“Ma, are you there”?, Asked Nandini.

Prabha was again lost in her thought. This is something happens to her now.

“Yes, I am here. So, how are you all? How is Narayan? How is Tanuj doing? Last time you had promised you would bring Tanuj to talk to me” Prabha deliberately changed the topic. She didn’t want to discuss anything about the orphanage donation with anyone anymore. She had made up her mind. As if the adamant self of hers had returned. And she also knew how to shut her daughter up. She never approved of the fact that Nandini and Narayan never pushed their son Tanuj to learn Kannada, instead they prefer to speak to him in English. Tanuj was 14 years old now and he sounds like a foreign boy to her, without any emotional chord attached.

“Yes ma, but you know how he is. He is not comfortable to speak in Kannada and you would not learn English. You know how difficult it is.”

“Yes, of course. I know.”

“Ma, let me call you back tomorrow. There are some students here who need to talk to me.”

“Ok, you carry on.”

“And ma, please be careful. You are alone there. Don’t trust strangers and outsiders,”

“Yes yes, I’ll take care. Don’t worry. I’ll be fine”

There was a lull at home again. But Prabha was excited. She was wondering what was it that made her so thrilled and keen. Then she remembered it. She was to look for old clothes and sweaters for the orphanage. She felt charged up. After so many years, she somehow felt excited in something. Now a day, nothing seems to excite her anymore. Malathi keeps telling her about her autistic son, her drunkard husband and all her visits to the temples. She listens to her life struggle without curiosity. Malathi keeps telling her that how fortunate Prabha was to have such bright children and have enjoyed such a complete life with a loving husband. Prabha knows she is right. Very few people would be so fortunate to have a life like Prabha. But then her life is not complete yet. Ever since Karthik and his family moved to Denver 11 years back, Prabha has been living in this house alone. Initially it used to be so difficult to adapt to this new lifestyle. She used to miss Pari the most. Little Pari would be always around her wrapping her little hands around Prabha’s knees. Now Pari would be 16 years old. She must have forgotten her days with her grandma now, busy in her new life. Karthik’s wife Sushma comes from a rich family. She herself being a haughty girl never really could see mother in another hot headed and adamant woman Prabha. Their relationship never could grow to a healthy one. Prabha used to miss Shreedhar so badly during those days. Had Shreedhar been around, Sushma would have been accepted in their house like another daughter and their relationship would have been much better. Had Shreedhar been around, Karthik and Sushma would never decide to move to Denver. No matter what she tells others, she can never shrug the sting off her chest that it actually was Prabha’s adamant behaviour that brought her life to this point.

How many years would have passed before she opened the almirah in Nandini’s study room? Prabha can’t even remember when was the last time she had actually come to this room. Malathi does dusting for the entire house, and Prabha doesn’t really care how well she does it. There was a time when this house used to be her dream house. Shreedhar had paid attention to every smallest to biggest demand she had made for the house. Prabha wanted to have her house literally bathe in sun light and Shreedhar had planned for wall long windows. Now it’s a common feature in modern flats. But at that time, it was unique and stylish. Prabha wanted to have long walking trail around the house which would be covered with different gulmohur trees. Now when she sees people going to parks and walking their sweat out, she wonders how well Shreedhar had cocooned her in her dream life. But now when Shreedhar is no more, she can’t forgive herself for all the screaming she had done on him for the smallest of things going wrong. He never used to argue to her. May be that’s why God decided to give her the final blow.

She opened the almirah in Nandini’s room. She remembers that after Nandini was married off, they had decided to keep all their sweaters and winter clothes in this almirah. In the bottom rack, the sweaters were stacked neatly. She drew the first one. Her shaky hands made one more fall from its place. She grabbed it also. It was Shreedhar’s sweater. Prabha had knitted it for him in their first year of marriage. Though it was an arranged marriage, but after 2-3 months of the marriage, she had found herself so helplessly in love with this ever-smiling shy and sincere boy, that she wanted to do something for him. One day when Shreedhar had left for the university, she had gone out and went to the nearby market to buy wools so that she could make a sweater for him. She was new in Bangalore and didn’t know where to find what. She roamed in the market for two hours but couldn’t find any shop selling wools. She was so frustrated that she came back home. After Shreedhar had come back home in the evening, she broke down in front of him. Shreedhar then had taken her to the Jayanagar market. She bought 4 kilos of yellow and 4 kilos of blue wools, fearing wools would get over before the sweater. After that she has gone to Jayanagar market so many times, with or without Shreedhar. But she still remembers the time she had gone there for the first time, with Shreedhar. She kept that sweater aside to give to the orphanage. The sweater was still in good condition and she would be happy if someone finds it useful. She knows that Shreedhar would be happy too.

She took out another sweater from the rack. It was Karthik’s. He had bought this sweater before he was going to Nainital for his honeymoon. The sweater had got stuck somewhere in the boat when they were boating in the Naini lake and had earned a hole. That’s why they left it here and didn’t carry it to Denver. She decided to give it away as well.

Then she saw the yellow cardigan. It was in the back side of the rack. Her heart skipped a beat and her hands trembled. Shreedhar had bought this sweater for her when they had gone to Ooty just after their marriage. It was colder in Ooty than they had expected. She was drawing her shawl closer after they got down from the train. Shreedhar also looked uncomfortable in his jacket. They checked into a hotel that Shreedhar’s friend had suggested. They decided to go out and buy sweaters immediately. They went to a shop and were surprised to see sweaters of so many patterns and colours. Prabha selected a maroon high neck pullover for Shreedhar and he had selected this yellow cardigan for her. They looked so happy with their purchases, with themselves that the old shop keeper gifted them a woollen hand gloves. Life with Shreedhar was so happy. She kept that cardigan aside for herself. She decided to wear it again now until she meets Shreedhar again in the life after.

She sorted out three cardigans and seven pullovers to donate to the orphanage. She wanted to donate blankets and quilts also but they are kept in the upper rack in the room. There was a ladder to get things down from the rack, but she couldn’t have possibly climbed up now. This upper rack brought back some old memories too. Nandini was three years old then and Prabha was expecting for the second time. It was her sixth month. Shreedhar had specifically asked her not to climb up the ladder, but she being all her stubborn self, climbed up and then there was the slip. They lost the baby. It took another three years for her to give birth to Karthik. That was the only time when she had seen Shreedhar losing his calm.

Prabha decided to ask for Malathi’s help for getting the blankets and quilts down. She thought that she would give away some blankets and old clothes to Malathi too.

The clock rang 2pm. She was surprised. How did all this time pass by? She didn’t even realize it! It felt like those earlier days when whole day she would be busy with chores at home. Shreedhar always used to tease her for she used to miss the clock ringing loud as she used to be so occupied with her work. She would run from one corner of the house to another with work and would ask for time. She felt that time again and she felt she was smiling. The incessant sound of rain outside felt nice now.

She felt hungry. What would she cook today? Enough of lemon rice every day. She decided to have puliyogre instead. Shreedhar used to love having puliyogre on rainy days. She thought that there is no end of complains in life. Just like she complains that her children abandoned her, her mother also used to do the same. Malathi is right. She has had a wonderful life. Then, why not try to live the rest of the life in happy memory? Why not spend time reminiscing the beautiful time she had spent with Shreedhar and her two kids? She can do it, if not for anyone else, then at least for Shreedhar.

A wishing star sparkled!

Today is an extraordinary day. Today somewhere in the sky a wishing star sparkled, some magic wand moved and a miracle happened!

A couple decided to adopt a child. Not because they cannot give birth to a baby inspite of all medical treatment possible, but because they chose to do so. They wanted to do their duty towards the society and give an orphan a family. Today they brought their daughter home.

Today someone's fate changed in a moment when she moved from the coldness of an orphanage to the warmth of a family of parents and grand-parents.

Though I don't know the parents personally, but I wish meet the baby soon!!!

Manipulation by Shahrukh Khan

Is it now LOUD and CLEAR to all those Shahrukh  Khan and Yash Chopra fans that how their beloved idols DESTROYING the film industry? How they are MANIPULATING not only people's minds but also business of film making?

Why is there no Son of Sardar in my nearby theaters? Why is there only Jab Tak Hain Jaan in my nearby theaters? I would like to go and see Son of Sardar anytime than it's competitor as Son of Sardar is at least honest in its approach, at least it's showing nonsense comedy by claiming that they ARE doing nonsense comedy, unlike it's competitor which is PRETENDING to be serious in disguise of being utter rubbish and nonsense.

I have been observing this trend of Manipulation for a long time now when I see all big shots of media will say nothing but pure praise for all those dim-witted stupid and obnoxious movies by Shahrukh Khan, Yash Raj camp, Karan Johar camp and their chamchaas and chamchis (the chamchi is no more a chamchi now anymore since drunk Shahrukh abused her husband physically, publicly). Only a few years back, any movie which didn't star Sharukh Khan but used to do good business in the box office were termed as 'surprize hits'. My question is Why surprize hit? If people liked a movie naturally, why can't that movie be a hit? Only because it doesn't star Shahrukh Khan? Or, because they are surprized with the fact that  someone earned profit in THEIR manipulated arena?

It's a shame and disgrace to a democratic country like us. Whenever I have tried to say this fact to people, the utter stupidity of Shahrukh Khna fans have only surprized me. But then who else but stupids would be a fan of this rickety, bony and old horse like Shahrukh Khan? Age is no matter, even Amitabh Bachchan looks better than Shahrukh Khan. The face is the reflection of mind after all  otherwise I don't see such an ugly hero in this country, forget about a star.

Sleepless days and nights of Indian movie critics

Every time a movie like Kahaani, Lagaan, Ekalavya or Guzarish releases, the Indian movie critics start having sleepless nights, gastritis, acidity, indigestion and all sorts of un-comforting ailments. Now this is turn of Barfi. 

Reason? 

The reason is that they have to scan each and every second of these movies and have to dig their minds as hard as they can to find out even 1 second resemblance with any foreign language movie! They have such a monumental task before them to complete. How can they rest? So, what if they find even 2 seconds of resemblance with some Hungarian stage play or Italian documentary, they have to establish the fact that everything good that happens in Indian movies are copied from Western movies. 

I often hear people saying "XYZ is such a great movie. They must have copied it from some English movie". Why someone has to copy something from English movie to make something good in India? I can't believe the fact that all people from one country are better than another country in terms of creativity or intellect. I believe just like good and bad people are there in every country, every culture, intelligent and dull people are also there in every country and every culture.

But having said that, this is also true that English and foreign language movies have great influence on the Indian movie and television. If we keep the blame game aside for a moment, then may be this is the time when we should ask the question "why so". In my understanding, this is because America started developing movies and television far before anyone in the world started. So, that makes them the pioneer in this field. In that case, is it but not natural that everyone in the world will look upto them in this field? If someone wants to even study about films, they have to rely on the huge collection of movies what America has been producing for all these years. Can you blame a student for being influenced by his professor?

But what is more important is that what is being copied and how it is used. For example, if someone has created a full story and has narrated the story in his own original cinematic language, but while telling the story, he has used one sequence whose core idea might be similar to some other existing sequence of a Foreign language movie but he has completely developed the idea in the newly woven environment. Also, the sequence doesn’t bear much impact on the original storyline but on the contrary, can be edited also. In this situation, will you discard the director’s effort to create the entire movie in his own right, or will you blame the director of plagiarism for using that trivial sequence? I find Barfi such a movie and blaming Anurag Basu of doing “copy-paste job” would be a crime to his entire effort of making such a poetic movie.

On the other hand, there are other directors in our country, who develop the entire story of the movie combining 3-4 English movies. They not only copy and use the sequences from English movies, but they don’t hesitate to show Indian characters following American culture – For example, they show Indian (the name suggest them to be Hindu) people getting married in churches wearing white gowns. They also shoot the movies in foreign locations to easily portray the copied stories and copied sequences. Directors like Sajid Khan, Kunal Kohli, Kabir Khan, Farah Khan, Karan Johar, Shirish Kunder, Aditya Chopra are few typical examples of such directors. But unfortunately, the great knowledgeable critics of India never say a word against these directors and their movies. They will never say how much copy-paste job they have done. Why so? Is it because of the fact that all these critics are actually paid employees to these directors, producers and these banners?

I don’t have any trust or belief on these so-called critics. I detest them. I loathe their boot-licking nature. I never read any review done by any Indian critic. I am sorry but over the years I have found them the most corrupt people of our country. They misuse their power of pen and misguide people by their employer-guided goal.

So, I will never blame Barfi of plagiarism. Instead, I’ll be grateful to Anurag Basu to dare to create such a masterpiece for the most undeserving and ungrateful audience of India.

August, a special month

August 2012 turned out to be a special month for me. I had two long-term dream fulfillment in this month.

Ever since my father passed away, my mother doesn't wear any gold ornament in her hand as she doesn't have any gold bangle. When my father was alive, she used to wear 'ayastha' made in gold, which is a sign of marriage. My mother took this off when my father passed away two years back. Since then, she wears only two citi-gold bangles. Every time I see her hands without any gold ornament, it pinches me. So, last year I started to save in a monthly gold scheme in Tanishq. The plan matured last month and finally I bought two beautiful gold bangles for my mother. Though the purchase practically broke me, but what am I earning money for anyway?

The second dream was to visit Bombay which I could make happen in August, 2012. Since my sister stays in Bombay and also since I have already stayed and worked in Bombay for one year, the dream to stay and visit Bombay may sound very ordinary. But for me, it was one of the most extraordinary events of my life. For me, it was coming out of two of my greatest dreads. I might not be able to discuss everything here, but I'll always remember the August 2012 Bombay trip to be my victory in life.

The primary focus to visit Bombay was to visit the Prince of Wales Museum in Bombay, which I couldn't do in my one year stay there. The trip to the museum turned out to be more astounding than I had imagined as it took six hours for me to visit the entire museum. And, I can only assure everyone that it was worth visiting the place. I wish I had not caught fever the next day, mainly due to the change of climatic condition between Bangalore and Bombay, I believe, I could have one more day to spend in Bombay and I would be able to visit the Jehangir Art Gallery also. May be next time.

Spice Jet and a Cup of Coffee

As usual, I was sleeping as deep as I always do. I can't say if I was snoring. Suddenly the fragrance of food awoke me up and then I saw two air-hostesses carrying the food trolley and selling food items near my seat. Then I realized where I was....I was going to Mumbai from Bangalore in Spice Jet airlines and I was sitting in window seat.

I was not hungry. So, I asked for a cup of coffee as I was feeling cold. They obliged. One sip and I knew that I was having the worst coffee till date. Still I kept sipping the coffee as at least it was a hot liquid, and it was comforting my soar throat. I took out my purse and was waiting to pay for the  coffee. "How much would it be? 50 rupees?", I was wondering in a literally bitter mood.

But cabin crew members never came back to ask for money. As I was again drifting in my sleep land, I was wondering,"Is the coffee so bad since it's free OR is it free since it's so bad?"

Where will it stop?

It was 2006 in Delhi when over a casual discussion, an influential political journalist had told my journalist friend some details about the current political scenario of Assam. He had said that much has been said and discussed about the political situation of Kashmir and the entire world seems to be concerned about it. But what is entirely unknown to the entire world is the political situation of Assam, and the situation of Assam is far worse than that of Kashmir. The political scenario is so bad that suddenly one day the Hindus of the state will wake up to a morning when they will be thrown out of their own houses by Bangladeshis. For Hindus of the state, the situation would be ‘sudden’ but the for those who would be leading the killings, for them the entire situation would be pre-planned and well organized.

My friend was so shocked by learning this that she had immediately called me to tell me about what she came to know. It shook me and my family as well. This fact finding slowly prepared us mentally to shift somewhere in the mainland India before we face something similar to what our ancestors had faced during the independence of India. But surprisingly, over last these many years, whenever I have tried to warn people about this political forecast, people have not believed me; sometimes some people even behaved to be know-all and felt ‘hugely offended’ as I had tried to convince them that what they know is not ‘all’, there is more to it.

Anyway, now we all know that the prediction has come true in Assam. Look at the people of Bodo land and see how they have been driven away from them their houses and how they are taking refuge to the nearby state West Bengal. Bodos are the early settlers of Assam; mainly Kokrajhar and Dhubri districts are their own land. Then why are they being driven out of their homes and who is driving them away? There is answer and that is brutal. All those illegal Bangladeshi immigrants who had immigrated illegally to India one day and settled in Kokrajhar and Dhubri districts are now killing and driving away the native people of bodo land out of their own land.

Then the question is why are they doing this? And why did they even come to india in the first place? All those Bangladeshi illegally immigrate to India for work, since they have no work there in Bangladesh and they would simply starve and die in their own country. So they illegally immigrate to India so that they can eat and live. They keep pulling more immigrants illegally from their country continuously to India. After couple of years or may be after a decade these illegal immigrants, who have become valid voters in India, all thanks to Tarun Gogoi government, become the most powerful pawns of the political power game between India and Bangladesh. Now, Bangladesh has an army of their own inside India, all thanks again to Tarun Gogoi government. Then why wouldn’t they drive away natives and create terror? It’s their right. This is what they are best at, creating troubles and nuisance everywhere they go and finally create a religious riot.

Why blame only Tarun Gogoi government? After the independence, all governments in Assam and West Bengal have been build and sustained on the one and only formula – “Invite and worship Bangladeshis. Thwey will vote me”. This is quite easily understandable that the governments don’t give a damn whether their people are living or dying. They are busy summing up their calculations for vote bank and brimming their own accounts. And why blame only state governments? What is our central government going? Do they really consider North East a part of India? Or, are they also waiting for this chicken’s neck to break and be relieved from all this trouble? Otherwise, how can village after village of Assam go inside the political border of Bangladesh and the supreme authorities of our country are not bothered!

Now in this situation what should we do? Kokrajhar has lived its fate. Should we wait for this to happen to Barak valley and follow the trails of 1947 again? How many times will the same group of people drive us away from one part of land to another? How long and for how many generations will we see the same history repeating itself?

I will miss you Batman

"I wanted to see, what breaks first...your spirit or your body." - That was the darkest moment of The Dark Knight Rises.

I think I was the last person to leave the theater with a heavy heart that Christopher Nolan-Christian Bale Batman series is over. I don't know if I would like Nolan's upcoming Man of Steel considering that I never really like the Superman. But I'll always miss Christian Bale as the Batman.

PS. Those who thought Agent Vinod sucks, might like to eat up their words after watching The Dark Knight Rises. I still believe that had Agent Vinod been made in English with some Hollywood A-lister in lead and with the same ditto script, the people of our country would have gulped it with 5 stars.

Insomnia and other Stories by Aamer Hussein (Penguin)

This was a book that I had picked up from Bangalore book fair last year. It was very abrupt decision on my part as I never buy a book without substantial amount of ground work. But this time I relied more on my instinct as the book is published by Penguin press.

I must say I was not wrong. When I started reading it, I fell in love with the author’s eloquence to play with words. Not only words, but Aamer Hussain seems to be an expert in narrating the minutest of human emotions with so much fervor that I could almost feel and smell the cold and bleak winter of London while sitting in Bangalore summer.

This book is a short story collection and Aamer Hussain has written stories based on his experience in various parts of the world. Since he comes from Karachi, the influence of Pakistani literature is unavoidable. Aamer keeps telling stories of fellow Pakistani authors, poets and thinkers who succumb to the political powers and that they are left with no chance to speak their minds freely. His bold approach to criticize Pakistani rulers made me consider him to be one of those free thinkers like Khaleid Husseini or Gabriel Marquez. But I was wrong. His immense and strong hatred for India and the way he explained how some villagers near Jaipur kill and eat almost-alive pigs not only surprised me but once again established him to be just another orthodox Pakistani writer who though does not live in Pakistan but cannot come out of the grasp of age-old mindset. Isn’t the characteristic of poor people same irrespective of what religion they belong to and where they live?

As for me the principle of the author is important and this short story suddenly changed my view towards the high thinking of Aamer Hussein and I discovered Insomnia and other Stories by Aamer Hussein not to be my favorite book.

A dog and sometimes a cow

Yesterday we three friends wanted to have something different in lunch and so ordered three small pizzas in the U.S Pizza counter in the cafeteria and found a table about 500 meters away from the counter and settled.

We were waiting patiently continuing with our usual chit-chat and occasional giggles. Suddenly a small amount of still-being-cooked pizza escaped the walls of that giant oven that I could see from my seat and entered into my nose. I immediately exclaimed "yey, our pizzas are almost ready, I can smell it"

My two friends looked at each other's face and looked confused and puzzled and said "we can't smell anything!"
Me: "Ohhh...never mind...my mother always says that I must have been a dog in my last birth as no fragrance skips my nose and I was a smell-tester in my house"

My two friends started laughing out loud and then one friend suddenly called out "hey, I can also smell it now!!!!!!"
Me: "See!! You must have been a dog two births back, so it came a little later to you" and we all split out in laughter.
The other girl was still looking confused as she still couldn't smell anything!
I told her, "don't worry. You must not have been a dog in last five births of yours!"

The cow part

At the entrance of my office, they have built a small barred-metallic-passage that stops cows and dogs from entering into the office premises. But whenever I enter the office I get so scared to walk on that passage that I take a small detour to enter the office. I often laugh at myself and tell my friends that I must have been dog and cow in my last births and I still have their characteristics in me that stops me from walking on that passage!