A Selective Empathy

Hi दोस्तों !

Things have wildly changed probably since the last time either Anand or I posted here.
I never thought I'd ever come back here but I suddenly remembered this existed and I decided to give it a peek. I'm highly embarrassed at all the things I have posted here, but oh how great would it be to go back to a world where I posted without a care in the world and with no regard for what people thought of me.

Unrelated to the above exposition of a paragraph, I thought I'd revive the one blog where I actually posted stuff (probably because of peer pressure let's be honest) so that I can actually have some sort of opinion on the internet once again. A lot of people have in the recent past taken to Twitter for these reasons and though it's indeed quite a feat to manage to write an entire story in 140 characters, I'd like to have my own personal freedom from that word limit and be able to express freely. (Though, again, my mind wanders and I realize how insane the pressure must be to write a screenplay say - for a 20 minute TV episode or a 1.5 hour long movie that is being made from a book that was around 600-1000 pages long.)

But I'm not a writer, and as time (and this blog) is testament to this- I never worked on my prose or poetry writing or my story-telling any further. (Story-telling... hmm that is debatable, but hey! I have become a huge fan ((evidently)) of the parenthesis. What an excellent invention.) But who knows maybe in the next 10 years, this could change? Hmm.

One of the things on my mind over the past few days is this post I read about the films that won the Oscars this year. For people living under a rock, the Korean film 'Parasite' won best director and best overall film while the film 'Joker' won best actor. The reason I brought up only these two films is the point of this article.

Recently, a Facebook friend of mine wrote his opinion about these two movies in particular and said he was getting tired of films making him feel hollow inside as he left the movie hall. He was tired of movies not making him root for the main characters, because he had no empathy for them because they were pieces of shit, and that he was hoping they'd die so that the movie would end.

This was kind of a jarring opinion to digest because I personally LOVED the film 'Parasite' and although I haven't seen the film 'Joker', I am an ardent follower of the DC universe and simply love the depth of character afforded to all the villains that share that world. I read and re-read that entire little rant, and was trying to look at it from the perspective of the writer.

I am entirely for the notion of trying to see things from another's perspective. I have tried over and over again over the years to open my mind to a bunch of things that I thought was not my thing- metal music, the cartoonist Crumb, David Lynch films... just to name a few. Over time, David Lynch has slowly inched his way to my list of personal favorite directors (and although I cannot say the same for metal music and the cartoonist Crumb- I know and can appreciate the kind of musical prowess that goes into the making of metal music and the kind of skill that goes into the pornographic imagery of a cartoonist like Crumb.)

The more times I read that rant, the more I understood what he meant by it, for sure. For some people, cinema is a release. People want to go to the movies to forget. The world is a slimy, gross place and some people want to go to the movies to escape it- to be freed from the burden of seeing gritty dark things and to also escape into the life of another likable human being. For many people, this likable human being needs to be someone who they consider above their own selves, someone who can clearly be visible as the better person. However, the moment the time comes for these people to put themselves in the shoes of someone who they consider a 'worse' person than themselves, or a 'less likable' person- it gets harder for them to be empathetic towards them.

And why not? This is actually a regular and almost too human of a thing. This little article from this point on could go in two probable directions. I could talk about the responsibility of films to feed into this feel-good feeling that people need in today's world of dwindling values and happiness, or I could get into the other side of this- the empathy we lack towards the 'lesser human'.

No points for which direction this article is going to go in.

For one, what's the constituency of this 'lesser human' and how can one decide who or what this person is? How can one decide who falls into this bracket of an awful person and who does not?

If we consider the movie 'Parasite'; the movie was pointing a finger of blame at the economy and the rules of society, and was a direct interpretation of the phrase 'society makes a man'. The protagonist family in this film are not the 'good people' because the things they did to get their way were in no ways legal. But then, who were the good people in this film? Clearly it was not the rich family which was blissfully unaware of being duped by the poor family either, as they had their own vices- again a direct consequence of society and its rules. The point of this movie was to make us realise the situations that lead to people being the way they are, and the reasons they cannot escape from their reality, no matter how much they try to.

Are any of these people in any way, lesser human beings? Aren't all people what their situation and environment makes them? Is anyone born evil? Can you not be empathetic towards a criminal? Is it wrong to not want to watch the story of a person driven to crime?

Most of these questions have answers that are firmly based in subjective opinion- because the quality of empathy is entirely subjective. If you think you cannot be empathetic towards a person who has decided on a life of crime, could it be that that particular movie is not for you? Maybe. I watched Sonic The Hedgehog yesterday and one of the things Dr. Robotnik said to James Marsden's character (I already forgot his name, what was it? Tom? Not relevant.) was that he was bullied when he was little and he got his revenge on the bully soon enough. So if he was bullied- you would probably feel bad for him, but he decided to get his revenge and he grew up to be an evil vengeful villain... so is that confusing for all the empaths out there? Are you wondering if you are rooting for the right person?

'Art for Art's Sake' has for long been such a contested little saying but it makes all the difference in the world. Cinema is a reflection of humanity, and if society isn't represented by cinema- is cinema even portraying humanity well at all?

The fun thing about the world of cinema is that there is something for everyone. And maybe, just maybe, that's the beauty of it all.

Losing a Friend

The Night Goddess wept as the child tried not to cry.

The silentest purple amidst the black beaten sky.

The clouds seemed much closer than they normally did,

The stars and the moon the clouds completely hid.

The child drew the curtains as thunder sounded,

He curled up on the bed as his sadness mounted,

He remembered the fights and the anger that ensued,

The slice of trust of which he the wrong end now chewed.

The mother walked in and put a hand on his head,

Ruffled his hair and gently she said,

What's the matter baby? I'll always be here.

And the boy started crying and spoke through his tears..

A friend I have lost today mama, he confided.

A friend who had love for me undivided.

I've broken his trust, I've failed him to no end.

I don't think I'll ever be happy again.

His mother let him cry on her lap for a while.

When he looked up into her face, she said with a smile,

You have wronged your friend dear, please regain his trust,

A friend is a gift. A friend is a must.

It's not easy to lose a friend, least one that was close,

Always he will for you happiness enclose.

You KNOW I look over you and will come back to you forever,

But one can find NEW friends, it's now or never.

Saying this, before he inhaled she was gone,

The room was as it was before, forlorn.

He looked at the framed photo of his mother over his bed,

And in respect calmly bowed down his head.

Family was and always will be by your side,

Regardless of whether they be dead or alive,

There are some things that are not as immortal as they seem,

And that is evident when the final cracks are seen.

Friendship is gullible, friendship is fragile,

Thinking it lasts forever, is actually futile.

Respect those who walk with you holding your hand,

You never know when the friendship will be buried in the sand.

Honour your present company, the future will unfold,

More sweet memories, the best of times untold.

Stillness

No twitch of the toe, no power to show,
No general cacophony of sound.
No rustle of trees, no whisper of the breeze,
Just stillness all around.

What I would do, for a whisper or two,
Or even a fulfilling talk.
To make me breathe, to let me see,
To get me out of this shock.

If somebody may, in kindness lay,
A hand on my bent head.
I don't even know, if I'd get up and go,
And forget about the dead.

As my eyes filled with tears, and back came the fears,
I'd had during the last minute.
As I held his hand, and promised him I'd stand,
By him till the end and I did it.

Wherever I go, the bravery I show,
The stillness will follow around.
As I try my best, to laugh and to jest,
The stillness still holds ground.

Every view that I see, that appeals to me,
Will be lacking always I confide.
It'll always be within, that every situation I'm in,
Would be better with him by my side.

The birds and the breeze, the smell of t he sea,
The child running around in glee.
No matter how fun, the time in the sun,
Will always bring sadness to me.

Into the garden I strolled, with memories to hold,
Of every walk there I'd taken.
I spotted a pot, the oldest of the lot,
Which a lot of memories did awaken.

'He's gone', said I, to the plant with a sigh,
'It's just you and me now.'
And the plant in response, took up the chance,
To open up its Lily and HOW!

So beautiful it was, I could see no flaws,
And the white was stroked with grey.
The delicate hues, the absence of blues,
At first filled me with dismay.

But the I saw, saw through the clause,
The plant had tried meekly to portray.
The world was not at end, and it tried to blend,
The best of the world in its array.

If stillness I choose, it still has its hues,
In stillness colour abides.
Be a white or a grey, satisfaction or dismay,
In it life resides.

I now live in peace, amidst flowers and trees,
Where nature's beauty abounds.
The birds join in song, as I tag along,
With just stillness all around.

"The Portrait of a Lady" Revisited.

"Well, once, I had killed a snake, and put the snake in Monali's (Mom's sister) drawer. There was quite a lot of noise from her side of course, I laughed and ran for it as soon as I heard Ma coming. I climbed the tree and sat there. Ma was so furious, that she didn't realise that if she climbed to the first floor she could have whacked me with a stick easily! Instead, she threw her chappal at me! Forget hitting me, it almost hit Monali when it fell backdown! I cracked up some more in the tree..."
I laughed along with mys iblings as mom recalled that "fateful" event. I imagined a younger Ma (my grandmom) racing around the house with a chappal in her hand and chucking it at a teenaged mom. I smiled inwardly.

Onviously, the lady in my imagination had no idea what God had in store for her.

Smt. Shailaja Patankar. Commonly referred to as Ma in my household, as that's what mom called her. Apparently, they had had muslim neighbours who called their mother "Ma" and it was picked up from there.
Ma was a beautiful woman. I saw all her old pictures recently, and black and white or not, she radiated beauty and intelligence of the purest kind. Although she was very young when she had gotten married, I'm sure she had been mature beyond her years.

She had been a wonderful sportsperson. Her mother had been an associate of the Maharani, and due to her sports ability, she got to frequent the Palace for games of Volleyball and the likes, in her childhood.

She paid tremendous attention to the education of my mother and her sister. She didn’t get to finish her education, but that didn’t mean they shouldn’t. When my aunt, Monali Maushi, was doing her architecture, Ma made an ingenious drafting table for her, involving bricks and a drawing board.

Ma ADORED gardening. I guess she found solace in her garden. She single handedly maintained the most BEAUTIFUL garden I have ever seen. As I write this, I can smell the mogras in her garden, and feel the chafas on her tree. I can remember countless times when I was little, and I sat next to her in the mud, playing with ants, while she loosened soil, planted saplings, removed weeds, all the time muttering to herself, and talking to her plants.

She had a different nickname for all of us…
I was Vinkie, Srushti Dinkie, Shrey Shambhu, and Rudra (my cousin) Nandu. She stuck to them like glue :D

When we used to stay in Kalyani Nagar, many a time and oft, Ma would take me out in the evenings. I still remember how she would mutter prayers while she bathed, and when she came out, she’d still be muttering them. Then she’d put on her flowery saree, with a sleeveless blouse ( I used to think she was SO “in” :D) and I can literally smell the talcum and the moisturizer called “Charmis” she used to apply. She took me out, no matter if it was just for buying groceries. Once, she asked me, “You want to ride in a new rickshaw?” “which rickshaw?” “That,” she said pointing at a nearby six seater, “ is a dukkar rickshaw.”

I still call six seaters dukkar rickshaws to this day.

I made a lot of trips to Ahmedabad from Baroda by bus with her. We would pass the National Institute of Design. “Maahitiye vinkie? Ek divas tu ithe abhyaas karnaar. Mama pan khub drawing karaaychi. Mi tila kadhi NID exam nahi deun dili” she said. At that time, I guess I was too small to get it. “You might not be my only grandchild, but you were the one who made me a grandmother.”

When I went to Baroda during my vacations, I used to sit in front of the TV every evening at five, to watch the Little Lulu show. I really REALLY loved that show, with the curly haired girl in thelittlered dress, and the fat boy Tommy (who I always hated!) When I used to switch on the TV, Ma used to bring me Parle G and Bournvita and used to come and join me. Soon, she knew the story too. Baba (my Granddad) once told me that she sometimes watched it when I was in Pune, coz it reminded her of me.

But as they say, “God gets jealous and weary of too much prosperity somewhere.”

We first started noticing the signs of the illness when she began doing the same chore around thrice a day. If Baba said anything to her, she’d retort and snap at him, so he stopped saying anything. If you pointed out that “Look, the plants are already watered. You’re going to do it again Ma”, she’d say “Oh did I do that already? I think I’m getting old,” with a smile.
We initially only thought it was age, or too much work. So it was ignored.

Soon, it started getting worse.

She began to cry at the drop of a pin. She would throw tantrums if anyone would tell her she’s doing something wrong, the perfectionist that she was. Baba would tellall this to us on the phone. Soon he started getting weary of her, and couldn’t control her anymore. So they moved into our house in Pune.

She started repeating one sentence over and over again. It used to sound like she was muttering to herself. She lost a TREMENDOUS amount of weight. Because of that, she looked like she had grown shorter by a few inches. We got it confirmed by a neurologist. It was Alzheimer’s.

I was in the eleventh then. Around the time they moved into our house, I started losing interest in academics. I started spending a lot of time in the DPS library, during breaks, and whenever we had free lessons, trying to find out more about the disease.
All we could do then, is try not to stress her emotionally…. And wait.

She lost her joyous nature. She lost her ability to express emotions. She would stuff her mouth with food, forget how to chew, and try to talk at the same time. She would drink water, with almost no water going into her mouth, and water falling out from all sides. She forgot how to put on clothes, and how to bathe. She forgot she has to comb her hair. She forgot everything in a very small span of time. I can’t even recall how short that time was. And how very scary.

Soon, she forgot my family. She only remembered me. Vinkie.

From when she would get up it was “Vinkie la zaaychay na?” “Vinkie la jevan de na?” “Vinkie la exam aahe na?” right down to the evening “Vinkie la class aahe na?” “Vinkie yetiye na? Vinkie?”

She scared the hell out of me once, when I emerged from my bus in the afternoon, and saw her standing on the road in her nightgown. She rushed over to me caught hold of my hand like a little kid, and I took her home. I don’t think I ate anything that day. And spent most of the night sleepless and in shock.

The next day she did the same. And the next. And the day after the next. Soon, I started locking the door from outside when I left for school, just worried that she’d go somewhere, and forget how to come back.

She stopped eating. I had to feed every morsel into her mouth and say “Ma eat” and pretend like I’m chewing something so she could imitate me. I had to pretend to drink water so she could imitate me. I had to pretend to sleep so she would lie down next to me and imitate me. I stopped going to school at that point. It was too much for me to take.

One day, she woke up at three am, and came up to my room where I was awake studying. “Vinkie… architecture cha form laaglaay na? tula architecture karaaychay na?”
I calmly led her back down and put her to sleep.

Baba told me the next day, that she continuously bugged him all day about how I “need the arch form” and how “the dates will slip by”. By this time, I was worried beyond limit.

Soon, she forgot all the elementary things too. She couldn’t tell when she felt like excreting. She couldn’t tell when anything happened to her, around her. She was like this hollow being. With no soul. Hapless. Helpless. And I could do NOTHING but WATCH. I had watched a flower deteriorate in the worst way possible, and seriously, could do nothing.

On my birthday that year. Second of September, I called a few of my DPS friends home. She realized there were people at home, and came out. There was pin drop silence, as she sat down on the sofa next to Aneesh. She patted his thigh and looked at him.

And smiled. That was the first time I had seen her smile since she came to our house.

Soon, Monali maushi decided to come to Pune to pick Baba and Ma up and take them to her house in Bombay. We dressed Ma up in a beautiful Salwar
Kameez. It hung loosely on her, but still looked nice. They left for Bombay that day. September the Seventh.

The next evening, eighth of September, we got a phone call that she was no more.

I didn’t know how to react. I was sad. Terribly sad of course. But in a way, I was happy. She had escaped from the most TERRIBLE disease I had ever had the misfortune to witness.

I realized then the importance of Khushwant Singh’s words as he described his grandmother,

“She could never have been pretty, but she was always beautiful.”

News 2075

Brevity

The sun rises; the sun sets once again,
You blink the eye, another day is at end,
Did you solve an equation today; or discover gravity?
That’s what this is my friend; Life’s brevity.

You did sit-ups today, you even ran the mile,
But when you think about it, was it really worthwhile?
Did what you did today deserve a second thought?
Life is too short, my friend, life is too short.

Hungry? You went to you favourite restaurant,
There you fed upon delicious croissant,
Then came satisfaction and subsequent felicity,
That’s what this is my friend, Life’s brevity.

You look out the window-more constructions and pejoration,
This puts you in quiet noticeable contemplation,
There’s quite a bit to change, in fact quite a lot!
Life is too short my friend, life is too short.

You try hard to remember, what happened when you were ten,
Wishing you could live that age, that time once again,
What you’re blaming on life’s longevity,
It isn’t that my friend, it’s Life’s brevity.

You wonder if the man you love will leave your side,
Then one after the other in other women confide,
It won’t happen-chill out- he’ll manage to get caught,
Life is too short my friend, life is too short!

You spend your days studying all about the world,
Everyday to you, another mystery it unfurls,
But all in vain- you’ll never know details of reality,
That’s what this is my friend, Life’s brevity.

Finally, you try to leave your footprint before you go,
In hope, that you can lead others forward tomorrow,
So try not to make a CARBON footprint; it’s worth a shot,
COZ
Life is too short my friend, life is too short. (:

Ode to the HP Cylinder Man

Yep It was time now.
The month was almost up.
Mom said CIAO!
But I’ve just given up!

She had left she was gone,
Now I was alone.
I heard his bicycle trample the lawn,
GREAT! He can’t even phone?

There he was Oh there he was,
The HP cylinder man!
He comes on his cycle every month,
Twirling his moustache!
Ugly-OH SO UGLY! From his head to his foot!
You can chance one- but the 2nd time- YOU CAN’T EVEN LOOK!

He knocked on the door and Yelled GAS WALA! Continuously,
I-completely green now- ran down to attend the door.
I tried to close my eyes, but couldn’t do that assiduously,
It was too much to bear man! I was totally floored!

“Toh tum ghar pe akeli ho?” he said with a smirk.
The hair at my back stood on end, as I turned to face him.
“Haan toh?” I said with my best attempt to sound brave,
“Gas kaha hain maaloom hain?” was what he had managed in the interim.

“Vaise bhayya- ise gas nahi CYLINDER kehete hain!”
He stopped aghast-wondering what in the world had I said?
“Haan kya? Par ispar vaise GAS likha hota hain!”
“Haan-par who isliye kyunki usme gas BHARA HOTA HAIN!”

He reeled with shock at this sudden revelation,
I started with surprise as he almost dropped the full one!
“maine kabhi apni life mein bolne ki galti nahi ki!” he cried.
Then he looked at me- as if convinced I had LIED!

“Maine bhi,” said I with sudden calm,
& he smiled YES HE SMILED- thanked me- and went his way,
I wondered then- wondered almost in alarm what made his day?
Wondered what it was- Wondered what did I say?

There he is-OH there he is!
The HP cylinder man!
He comes on his cycle every month-
Twirling his moustache!
Not that ugly now- I’m still confused as to HOW?
But now he smiles at me as if to say- WE’RE REALLY FRIENDS NOW!

The Ultimate Test of Sanity

Well here I am. My pre-boards are on- but I thought I must attend to this immediately. And IMMEDIATELY it is. Because THIS is one case in which I EXPECT people to see things the way I see them- but it just ain't happening!

The other day I came back home… all dejected and stuff (memory fails me- I think it had to do with my math marks…). When I entered it was to find Mom busy with her chapattis in the kitchen. She generally asks me "So what marks you got today?" so I braced myself. But evidently- that day- she had something more interesting chewing her grey cells. (And mind you- chewing STRAIGHT THROUGH in my opinion.)

She merely said- "I think a surprise awaits you. I don't know how you'll react- but go upstairs and look out your right window."

Well- naturally- as curiosity kills the cat- I was perplexed. I edged slowly upwards- as slow as possible. What would it be that got MOM so excited? Frightened at the thought that she's removed the vine outside my window I love so much- I opened my window.

At first- I didn't notice anything. Nothing had changed. I shrugged. There's got to be SOMETHING now that Mom's mentioned it! But nothing that I could actually see- so I decided to go down and consult her on what exactly she was talking about. As I turned to go- my eyes fell on my neighbour's backyard. (pretty normal see.) I noticed the normal swing they had put up… the huge palm tree in the side… many additions of new pot plants by Aunty next door… and then- I stopped. Stared. And I couldn't believe my eyes.

There were two white birds- the type with webbed feet and white plumes- frolicking about in their backyard. My eyes (I think) were the size of dinner plates.

I ran down. "Were you talking about-" Mom-"So you noticed our neighbour's new pets did you? I was thinking of coming up myself and pointing them out. I thought you wouldn't see them." "But… but…", I stammered," They can be seen from the MOON!" Well yeah technically. Who wouldn't notice two GEESE in someone's backyard?! "THAT'S NOT NORMAL!!! THEY'RE ABNORMAL!!" I said. "And why would that be? It's perfectly and simply their choice what they want as a pet- be it a goose or a mongoose." Said Mom.

Mom didn't see eye to eye with me on this topic hereafter.

They make quite a lot of noise. I've seen them shitting in the small inflateable pool that the neighbours have provided for them… they look like they're hungry all the time. And they kind of freak me out.

I asked my kindly neighbour- "why do you have geese in your backyard man?" And my kindly neighbour replied- "Because we bought them."

Now this case has become a test of my sanity… I think either I'm losing my marbles- OR (the more likely option) EVERYONE ELSE IS.

Isn't there ANYONE around who agrees with me and thinks it's abnormal to have geese in someone's backyard??

I rest my case.

:P

Friday the 13th!

This Friday the 13th, I was alone in my house,
Absolutely jobless, unless you count chemistry a job,
Sitting on the comp, with nothing left to browse,
And it was so silent, I could hear my own heart throb.

Suddenly, almost immediately, I heard a siren wail,
I ran towards the window, looking for ambulance or fire-men,
But then there was nothing, as if the sound was of soft scale,
I went back to my table and chewed on the back of my pen.

“Duuude woh kya tha?” I stopped & thought to myself,
I wasn’t really scared obviously, but seriously- WHAT WAS THAT!
I clambered up and my hand searched for my phone on the shelf,
And then there was a purr on my window, a black cat!

“Shoo go away,” I told the cat, irritated & annoyed,
I was not really fond of cats, ever since I was little,
It didn’t move and stared at me through eyes that were like voids,
And then it spoke as if it was some weirdo transmittal!

“Hello there, I’m Mohan,” said the cat like it spoke everyday,
“Well what you doing on my sill tonight?” I asked in a small voice,
The cat winked at me and said, “We go wherever we want to play,
For today is Friday the 13th of course! Our day to rejoice!”

“ ‘Our’ day to rejoice?” I asked, already dreading the reply,
“Well DUH,” said the cat, “I’m not the only spirit left here you see…”
“Ok,” came my falsetto, “Hope you don’t mind but, when did you die?”
“Oh just a decade back! My brother killed me.” Said the cat happily.

And just when I was about to show my shock and apprehension,
Just as suddenly, there was an electricity failure in town,
The cat said, “Oh that must be Bob, he died after Jesus’ ascension!”
I just stood stupefied, afraid I’d have a nervous breakdown.

All sorts of animals were flooding the area high and low!
If people were out they just stared or pretended to not see,
Many cars were surrounded- didn’t know where to go,
What was this sudden weirdo bizzarre jamboree??

“Why do you take the semblance of animals?” I asked curious,
To that the cat frowned, ACTUALLY FROWNED and turned away,
“The Earth is dying, so are the animals and plants,” he said furious,
“We intend to make you know we care about them in this way!”

And then the whole scene went back to the way it was,
The night was cat-less; animal-less once more,
And I was left stunned by the spirits and their laws,
Once again- a species had shown how much the homo sapiens they abhor.

So now I would like to appeal to one and all,
Isn’t it high time we learnt something from what’s happening?
Even the dead are worried more about our Earth than we all,
And I honestly don’t think there’s ANYTHING more saddening.

Success is 1% Inspiration and 99% Perspiration!!

As far as I can see from my own experience and other’s experience too- this saying is true. We may be inspired to do something, but the success of it only comes with great effort and determination.

As a badminton-playing country, winning the Thomas Cup is the ultimate achievement and all players are inspired by this. It is easy to imagine winning the Cup, but the actual winning of it is very much more difficult. For twenty five years since 1967, our players had tried and tried to win it without any success. Then by sheer determination and plenty of perspiration, they won it in 1992. This magnificent achievement only came after working so hard and coming second best plenty of times.

I have been inspired by others who have done well in examinations. It is very easy to admire someone who gets four 100s in the first exam of ninth-when practically everyone else came down. When I asked her how she managed it- she merely shrugged- but I knew how much work had gone into her success. So I know- IF AND ONLY IF I harbour any hope of emulating her success, I will have to go through the grind of studying hard. Again it is clear that success comes not only from inspiration. It may come if I am prepared to work for it. But then again- there is no guarantee that it will. :P

I have again been inspired by my co-blogger Anand Gupta. Let’s just say he’s not like the girl I mentioned above- but you can’t help being inspired by him! He does almost everything- taking part in movie-ideas, doing all that NGO work, and a LOT of other things- This fellow has it going! And now- since I’m mentioning him- he can’t really say he doesn’t work hard for this. :P

Man has always been fascinated by the birds and other creatures that can fly. He is inspired by these creatures to take to the skies as well. Many, including Leonardo Da Vinci, dreamt of flying and flying machines. However, inspiration was not enough. No one succeeded till the Wright brothers came on the scene.

The brothers were credited to be the first to fly in an aeroplane. They were inspired by these people who attempted flight before them. At first even they failed. But they persisted and eventually- reached their goal. This success was the culmination of inspiration and perspiration!

It must have been pretty frustrating for those who didn’t fly in the end- now that I think about it. Not EVERYONE can succeed-no doubt-no matter how much they try. There is another thing about success I realise. Then perhaps I may be tempted to say- SUCCESS IS 1% INSPIRATION, 98.5% PERSPIRATION AND 0.5% LUCK!!

Hence I would say- try try till you succeed- because there is no happiness like SUCCESS!!!

Marital Bliss!!

One day I just woke up like I was in a stupor,
Realised I was much bigger than the previous day I’d been,
Mum ran in all frenzied & yelled in a voice that was super-
“GIRL YOU’RE GETTING MARRIED! & you’re the greatest mess I’ve seen!”

I started and protested but I wasn’t to be heard,
It was pre-planned and I had agreed; mum yelled in pain,
“BUT I’M JUST SEVENTEEN! I said in a voice hurt and slurred,
“Nonsense woman!” said my mother, “Being twenty-seven isn’t a shame!”

“WHAT!”, thought I as unceremoniously on the bed I flopped,
“honestly the world is conspiring against me! It’s all a plot!”
But then again I realised, this plot had no ending, no aim,
How I had managed to be 27 intrigued me just the same!

I decided to go with the flow & a little acceptingly-
I tried to check out who my bridegroom was to be,
I gasped with horror & hid my shock as I saw the photograph,
All in all- a stout little man with a portly moustache!

The wedding was to happen on the very same day,
I waited with my parents for the “baraat” in dismay,
All my mind was thinking of was how to sort this out,
& when the in-laws finally arrived- I began to shout-

“You useless folk who’ve come to accept me as their own,
Try & be sensible for a change & to brainwaves be prone,
Child marriage is forbidden here you gormless ignoramii!
I don’t care who I kill right now- such is my temper high!”

They laughed as if I had cracked a fairly decent joke,
(I must say at this point- I could turn cannibal & their privates poke)
I began thinking of other ways they could probably see-
That I was not the 27-year bride they thought I was to be!

I got my laptop & opened my facebook account frantically,
I knew there had to be SOME eveidence there about me,
I pointed at my profile pic- & yelled “AHA! Now you know!”
My hubby-to-be pointed at the date-“wow you were pretty different 10 years ago!”

Frustrated I ran to my room & retrieved hockey-stick and ball,
I saw to my satisfaction- everyone was appalled,
I dribbled the ball & said “I’m sure a 27-year old will not do this!”
“sure you can!” said my fiance, “I fell in love with you for this!”

Now I have been divorced nearly 4 times in a row,
& three kids have I produced (how I just don’t know…)
& still I ponder on that little unsolved mystery,
Of how I slept for 10 years of my life’s history!

CLASS DISTINCTIONS? You serious?!

Once again I embark upon an amusing recollection from my Mary’s days. (I sound pretty old talking like this… :O) Any which way- 13 years in an all-girls school!! Must have been tough huh? Well truthfully speaking-ot quite.

As I thought about Mary’s this time- I remembered a very amusing fact. Though our school looked “almightily” proud and arrogant and united on the surface- we were well divided underneath. I mean every school has their stomachful of groupism- but in Mary’s- we actually had social distinction! I hence began to think of on what basis we were divided.

At the top rung of the “social ladder” if my memory doesn’t fail me- were three big groups. One which I can refer to as the “TEN A” group- consisting of Ridhi Vaid, Mrinalini Shinde, Antara Jha, Sayee Avhad-just to name a few. The second- a rather well known infamous little group I daresay- the LG (Lip Gloss) a horrid nickname given to the girls who were absolutely POSSESSED by the fact they have to look good even if there are no boys around to show off in front of [NO OFFENSE MAN-I just think there was no point. :P] The third- was the “TEN B” group consisting of Alisha Thadaney, Shweata Sharma, and the likes. Anyone who wasn’t part of these groups- was not “scorned” actually- but pretty much a nobody. Then there were the normal- Nerds, Part-of-the-walls… well- you know what I mean.

I was a part of a rather STRANGE group which fitted nowhere. We were the type who-on book-borrowing day of the week- would be the first in the library during lunch to make sure we get the good books first. Hence people would call us NERDS- but we weren’t- because the books we read were mainly fiction. Then- we were the ones who took part in each and every competition that happened- be it debates, extempores, dances, singing, one act plays, story writing, the list is endless. Hence we could be termed as the Bootlickers. But then again- we weren’t. There was ALSO one time in the 10th when- before one of the million exams we had- our esteemed peincipal called upon Tista (a friend in my group) and me to come on stage because we had OUR BOOKS IN OUR HAND [a dumb reason to start with….] And on being asked why it was so- Tista and I had laughed in her face and gone “THEY DIDN’T FIT IN OUR BAGS!!!” So nope- bootlickers didn’t fit either. Tista Tara and I were also in the hockey team- nope not nerdy man! But yet- I could tell we were looked down upon by groups 2 and 3 (group 1 being friends with us…) You know the general- they have glasses- they laugh at CLEVER things- they don’t talk to us- They think they’re too great- they think reading a couple of books makes them smarter than us- they think looking good ain’t important…bla di bla!! We didn’t pay much heed to them anyway.

This one’s to all the kids suffering because of this dumb issue- take a chill pill- there is someone like YOU out there- who has glasses, loves reading and doesn’t need the mirror quite so often! Find them and befriend them!

When you have it- you hate it. However- it turns out to be the first thing you miss when it's GONE

Neighbours. What do we think of them? If you were mom and you saw a neighbour passing by- you'd say "Aa ja! Chai peeyegi?" and spend the rest of the evening chatting merrily. If you were dad in the same situation- you'd step out of the house and talk for 5-10 minutes about the re-making of the society road or the stock market. If you were ME in the same situation however-you'd either blatantly ignore your neighbour, or give him a nod of acknowledgement- or maybe a wee smile saying you know him- and it passes. Yes folks-I'm a sinister woman who's been MEAN to her neighbour. I admit it.
It started 4 years back. When I shifted from my old home to my current- I didn't even know what owning a row-house meant. When I got here- I saw that technically it was one big bungalow divided into two- one half is yours- the other your neighbour's. One fine evening- Mom and I went to meet them. Well-perfectly NORMAL evening for all those dramatists out there expecting a storm or some other harbinger of doom! The door was answered by a sweet Parsi Lady who looked like she always had a smile plastered on her face. I swear I'll NEVER forget Aunty's smile. And yeah- behind her was her fair, same height as me, full of baby fat son. That was 8th man- we played merrily together for 2 years after that- be it football, chor police- ANYTHING.
10th- we hardly spoke much- even if we did- it was through the net.
Me and Mom in backyard. We hear an AMAZING OUT OF THE WORLD howling. Me: Have the wolves started rounding up on us??
LOONELY!!! I'M MISTER LOONELY!! I HAVE NOBODY.....
Mom: It's your sweet neighbour... HELLO!?
(He pops his head out) He: Yes Aunty?
Mom: You sing.... very well!!
He: (clearly pleased) THANKS AUNTY!
(goes back and continues) I rolled my eyes.
Sarcasm clearly dripped off him.
Thereafter we were subjected to concert after concert of his expert bathroom singing.(row houses have common ducts...) which was- annoying- yet entertaining!
Then it happened. Aunty fell ill. Her foot had been cancerous-so they had gotten her leg amputated- and she had been living on a plastic foot. Suddenly the cancer had begun to spread again. She was hospitalised, put on chemo, and my parents went to visit her often. I then realised that- I had never given my neighbours a second thought. Taken them for granted. I began to think of her every day and night, and even though I'm not religious, prayed piously for her daily. That's when it hit me- the awkward shy bathroom singer boy that I had for a neighbour- was actually THE BRAVEST PERSON I HAD EVER MET.
Mom told me how he had to bathe his mother sometimes. How he cookes anda burji for him and his brother. (which I am thoroughly INCAPABLE of without major threat to myself and my surroundings...) Thinking of this now makes my hair stand on end.
And then she just.... died.
We didn't speak at all. Maybe I didn't know how to break the ice- and neither did he. Whatever be the reason- it still is like that. His younger brother was affected severely- as he began failing in school. As for the older however- we were in 10th- he tried his hardest to give the Board his best shot- and got 78. I think he's a genius. I personally- would have failed.
11th- he went to boarding. It's funny how you hate things when you have them- and miss them as soon as they're taken away. One thing I know- I would never have been able to say this to his face. I am feeling MUCH better after writing this.... I guess that's what blogs are for huh? :) :)

A Small Introduction with Some Food for Thought

Well hello. I am a “new addition” to this already pretty interesting blog. I’m Soumya Iyer- and I guess I’ll be giving in some of my viewpoints here too.
We write differently- Anand and I. While he will be discussing more of global issues which affect us directly or indirectly, I can discuss things which affect us more personally.

Well- to start with- I received a pretty bad result in a Physics exam today (not that I blame anyone….). That got me round to thinking about examinations themselves. WHOA! Who even came up with this bizarre idea to test knowledge?!

Be it LKG or PG class, there is no escape from the tyranny of examinations. As Winston Churchill has summed up, “The pupil would be pleased to display his knowledge, but the examiners are always inclined to expose his ignorance”. This clearly explains the dual purpose of examinations doesn’t it?
Learning is a continuous process which needs consolidation at regular intervals. Hence the periodical tests and exams. When a number of credits are earned, the student is elated; while the record maintained shows the progress he has made. If on the other hand, enough number of credits are not earned, the student is frustrated, and finally he/she may drop out or fail to get the degree or qualification. Easy-peasy what?
There are of course- other examinations which aim at filtering away as many as possible and selecting only a cream of candidates that suit their special needs. (IIT-JEE would be a brilliant example of that!) They are- in my eyes- like the merciless cut-throat (literally and figuratively!) knives of a butcher!
Whatever be their purpose, examinations are- as a not-really-passed but widely accepted rule, a bitter pill for students to swallow. But until and unless we find an alternative, they have got to stay and assess students’ performances. The student community of course, does not look upon exams as as essential component of the scheme. This develops phobia and THIS manifests in many highly amusing and pretty hilarious forms like MALPRACTICES (in layman’s terms: CHEATING!). The duty of the examining bodies here- is to make the exams less frequent and more agreeable; and the evaluation less subjective and more unbiased.