tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7546239318404143912024-03-13T04:32:45.212-07:00...A Thread of Thoughts...By Tabassum BarnagarwalaAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05316919093142080388noreply@blogger.comBlogger37125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-754623931840414391.post-37873160537062141902014-07-02T21:30:00.000-07:002014-07-08T23:37:36.409-07:00‘Achhe din yahan kabhi nahi aayenge’<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OBP1ZDo47sk/U7wM7_yTOCI/AAAAAAAAA2s/7BgEe-W8sGs/s1600/PN-28-06.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OBP1ZDo47sk/U7wM7_yTOCI/AAAAAAAAA2s/7BgEe-W8sGs/s1600/PN-28-06.jpg" height="407" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Two months ago, in the sultry humid heat of Mumbai’s Kamathipura
lanes—infamous for its ‘red light’ area—I stood on a rickety narrow lane
waiting for the campaign rally of former Congress MP Milind Deora to arrive.
Election fever was high, and amid the fast building ‘Modi fever’, candidates
from all parties were thrusting in a little extra effort to win voters’ heart
before the polling day hit.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Anticipation was bubbling in my blood, I was curious to see
how politicians interacted with sex workers. The lane on which I stood had dim
yellow Chinese lights adorning 100 by 100 square feet rooms stacked like tiny
matchboxes on either side of the road. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Just then, a woman, in her mid-thirties, stepped out of her door.
With a ragged deep-blue lose nightgown, she looked anything unlike a sex worker.
Thwarting the common notion of sex workers wearing bright red lipstick, <i>gajra</i> in their hair and vibrant sequin
laced saris, she simply stood with her thick wavy hair tied up in a bun looking
evidently desperate for a man to step into her room in exchange of a few
hundred rupees.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">She looked at me with calculating eyes. With laptop bag
hanging on my right shoulder, a notepad in my hand and anxious stares pressing
in from all around, she knew I was in a foreign land. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“This is not a place safe enough to stand for long, people
will think wrong about you. What are you doing here?” she asked me. “I am here
to cover the election rally, I am a journalist” I replied, to which she loudly
laughed and said, “Madam, politicians don’t come to this part of Kamathipura.
They will visit the residential areas. They don’t have the balls to stop and
talk to us.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Intrigued, I decided to talk more to her—Manisha, was her
name. Her husband had kicked the bucket several years ago after which she
shifted to Mumbai from Delhi to sustain her young boy. With no money in hand,
distant relatives not interested in supporting her, and no source of employment
(she was uneducated), entering the sex trade was the only option left for her.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yBhWZz2eV0Y/U7wNSsmIxoI/AAAAAAAAA20/s2_zmyB3TKA/s1600/IMG_5776.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yBhWZz2eV0Y/U7wNSsmIxoI/AAAAAAAAA20/s2_zmyB3TKA/s1600/IMG_5776.JPG" height="400" width="266" /></a><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“I am in this business for over eight years now. It’s not
really that tough, Men enter our room for ten minutes and I earn my bread and
butter. My boy can go to a school to study,” she explained the logic quite
simply. While she earned in thousands few years back when their business was
booming, she confided that with policemen doing far too many rounds now, truck
drivers and waiters (her usual clients) are scared to enter the lanes. Her
income has shrunk to a few hundred now.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I glanced at her room. Through a few inches gap between the
curtains, I could make out three other women sitting inside. They take turns to
occupy the room, Manisha explained. Whichever woman a man chooses to sleep with
gets to take over the room for the required time during which the others wait
outside. “Cost of renting a room is very high,” said Manisha, who, despite the
hardships and frequent shame she is subjected to by the cops, looked steel
faced and self dependent.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The world here was different. Unlike other assembly pockets
where politicians could touch topics of water, shelter or inflation, these
lanes had a realm of issues which were uncomfortably out of a politician’s
gambit to probe into. The women here wanted a fair share of respect for them
and their kids, no politician could buy that for them.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">To top it all, the red light area in Kamathipura is majorly
a population comprising migratory crowd. Women from the north have shifted here
in search of employment. Therefore with no voter’s card, they hold no
importance for several politicians. Their number is insignificant to create a
dent in the votes. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A week was left before the polling day and not even a single
politician had stopped by to interact with these women. “They don’t care
whether we live or die. And we don’t care who wins or loses,” said Salma,
another sex worker who joined us shortly afterwards. She was close to fourties,
and I knew she had only handful years left before she would hit menopause and
lose her clientele. “We have several issues but we don’t depend on politicians
to solve them. We find our own way out,” she said.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">On ground, these women don’t have a government for their
well-being and despite all this they don’t criticize like we do. “Roads are
horrible, the food prices are soaring, there is no cap on inflation….blah
blah,” is what I hear everywhere. Over here, there is just one issue-- “We
don’t have money to survive”—to which they have found a solution on their own.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Sex work is something they have accepted gracefully.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“I know neither BJP nor Congress will do anything for us. We
have to earn on our own. In the last so many years, no politician has stopped
by and talked to us. Even if they enter this lane during their rally, they
purposely keep their heads straight, smile and walk away,” said Manisha. I was
surprised to know that these women had never heard of the struggling Aam Aadmi
Party, let alone knowing who its candidate from South Mumbai was.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The cops show no mercy either. Every alternate day, they
round up men and women and demand Rs 2,000 from each. While sex workers in
Kamathipura earn Rs 800 per day on an average, shelling off Rs 2,000 is beyond
their capacity.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I decided to come back again and check on them post
elections.</span><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Now, a month after BJP has strongly taken over the center, I
called up Manisha. As confident as ever, she said, “I told you nothing will
change for us even if the government changes. <i>Achhe din yahan kabhi nahi aayenge.</i></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And I knew she was right. This job-less sect has been
conveniently forgotten and left to fend on its own.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-G4p0yD3h66g/U7wNhSQ-ydI/AAAAAAAAA3A/C5WV2CXae0I/s1600/PN-28-01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-G4p0yD3h66g/U7wNhSQ-ydI/AAAAAAAAA3A/C5WV2CXae0I/s1600/PN-28-01.jpg" height="257" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><i>(Pictures courtesy: Prashant Nadkar, The Indian Express)</i></span></div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05316919093142080388noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-754623931840414391.post-17112386570533829192013-12-01T06:10:00.000-08:002013-12-02T21:43:53.417-08:00The week that was full of Tejpal and Aarushi<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Too much news to digest in the past one week. While the
nation has been greedily laying its eyes on the two yet most sensational cases
ever- Tarun Tejpal sexual assault and Aarushi-Hemraj double murder- a
major news(at least in my eyes) was sadly ignored.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">More about the ‘major’ news later. First, let’s see how the
media has focused all its energies on the Tejpal and Aarushi case.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">While I do not consider rape a trivial matter, I
personally feel a crime committed by Tehelka’s editor has received more
limelight than its fair share. In Mumbai alone, there were two different rape
cases reported last week. One was of a minor girl’s rape in an auto rickshaw
and second was a rape case registered by daughter against her father, who assaulted
her for 11 long years. Are these two
cases not horrifying enough? Yet, they took a back seat because a spiced-up rape
case which involved politics and media had snatched all the heat. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Tarun Tejpal, if convicted, has committed a grave crime and
his actions have already caused multiple effects on Tehelka and on the employees working there. The media pressure has resulted in
resignation of managing editor Shoma Chaudhury. However, engulfing ourselves
just around one rape case is a bit uncalled for.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The second breaking news is of course of the life
imprisonment sentenced to Dr Rajesh Talwar and his wife Nupur Talwar for the cold-blooded
murder of their daughter Aarushi. The case has bewildered everyone since 2008.
While there are several other unsolved murder cases in our country, this one
swiped away everyone’s attention for two reasons- failure on the part of CBI to
establish a clear crime scene sooner and the perplexing nature of the crime.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">After the judgment, newspapers and news channels discussed
the 26 circumstantial evidences that pointed towards the duo and debated
whether justice had indeed been delivered. Various possible angles and theories
were drawn in public forums. Media devoured so much into the case that something as personal as Aarushi’s character and her relationship with her parents was scrutinized like public assets.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">News distorted and blown up- is not what journalism is
about.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> While these two cases
were flashing on every news channel, an incident of mid-day meal was pushed on
the back seat. A whopping 493 kids fell ill after consuming mid-day meal in one
of Mumbai’s school on October 25. While the nature of illness was not severe, it was dreadful
to find out how government fund for children is being misused. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This is the first time such a large number has been affected
due to mid-day meal. Maharashtra, currently, has the maximum cases of illnesses
reported due to mid-day meal since 2004 in the country. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">While the government has sanctioned </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.1875px;"> </span><b style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.1875px;"><img alt="INR" height="10" src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/e/ee/Indian_Rupee_symbol.svg/7px-Indian_Rupee_symbol.svg.png" srcset="//upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/e/ee/Indian_Rupee_symbol.svg/11px-Indian_Rupee_symbol.svg.png 1.5x, //upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/e/ee/Indian_Rupee_symbol.svg/14px-Indian_Rupee_symbol.svg.png 2x" style="border: none; margin: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" width="7" /></b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">25 per child for
one day’s meal, these students were given baked cupcakes worth </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">7-10 rupees. You
may wonder about the remaining amount? My guess- either the school or the NGO
appointed to serve the food has pocketed the difference.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It is a shame that we are failing to provide quality food to
children. The Bihar fiasco(death of 23 odd kids) is still fresh, and this incident just shows how
much ignorance this scheme is soaked in.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When I met the students and they discussed how unhygienic
the meals were, my brain started fuming. According to guidelines of mid-day
meal, baked items or <i>chikki</i> are not permitted
in meals. The school or the NGO was not only breaching the guidelines, it was
in fact preparing a recipe for malnourishment. Forget provision of hard-cooked
meal, these kids were given either a <i>bun-maska</i>
or <i>chivda</i> or a single banana for
lunch. With no one to monitor, these kids were deprived of basic nutrients
essential for their growth.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I wonder why an issue of such a big magnitude failed to
capture media’s attention- because it concerned low-profile school going
children or because there was no masala in it or simply because it was not a
multi-crore scam?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In my limited understanding, a mid-day meal affecting almost
500 children is of equal importance. And issues of the voiceless need to be
reported with greater focus because the ones having a voice will any how make sure they are getting heard. However, the poor will continue to suffer in silence. </span></div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05316919093142080388noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-754623931840414391.post-48163406130176270442013-09-03T00:36:00.000-07:002013-09-03T11:05:37.807-07:00You think plastic is useless, don’t you?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;">My new flat
looks grand. With a promising fresh breeze flooding in from large windows that
covers the breadth of the whole wall and with excellent ventilation, I almost
marvel at my luck when I landed on this tenth floor flat. The ceiling has been
artistically done, with a large green (yes green! My landlord has bad colour
taste) POP slab ejecting out with hidden lights in them.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;">Sometimes I
sit all by myself at the window sill, and sip my morning tea. That’s when I
spotted the maze of blue plastic and rusted black corrugated roofs blocking my
view. When one looks straight ahead from my window, one can get a glimpse of bunched
haphazard buildings and dark outline of hills at the horizon. However when the
gaze shifts downwards, a contrast presents itself- a huge stretch of slum, the
roofs of which, as I see now, is adorned with thick blue plastic and discarded
pieces of unevenly fixed aluminum sheets (‘<i>patra</i>’
as the locals call it).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;">The contrast
is rigid. And it gets even more rigid during Monsoons.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;">While I fret
over rains pouring and me getting wet, my maid, who lives in a small one room
hatchment in the same slum, worries over water spilling inside her tiny
cubicle, wetting her lone sets of furniture- a bed and a TV table. Once, she
rapidly explained how horrendous her task was to pour water mug-by-mug from
inside her house.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;">“This is the
story of every monsoon. Water accumulates after one splash of heavy rain. But
we cover our roofs with plastic so at least the leakage reduces,” she confides.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;">I, for one,
have always considered plastic as a ‘hopeless’ commodity. It increases
environmental pollution, is non-biodegradable and can be replaced easily with
paper bags. However, what I absolutely missed was the irreplaceable use it
offers to the poorest of poor people. It acts like a ceiling for them, like
cement does for us. These huge plastic sheets serve the purpose of raincoat for
them like umbrella does for us.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;">For
slum-dwellers plastic is cheap and efficient. A meter sheet cost them anywhere
between 350 to 400 bucks, while a roof made of cement or bricks can easily
escalate to thousand of rupees. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;">A normal
raincoat or umbrella starts from 100-150 bucks, but a thin plastic film merely
costs 5-10 rupees. Why would they go for a more costly option such as umbrella
when they can easily wrap a piece of plastic around them during rains? Their choice
is limited-- plastic.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;">In India, environmentalists
protest to ban plastic, with cities like Nainital already banning its use. However,
for the lower-income group, environment has no place to stand in the ‘issue-list’
when heavy downpour threatens to float their furniture sets and a long list of
monsoon diseases- typhoid, dengue, malaria, cholera, hepatitis, leptospirosis
and gastroenteritis- lurk round the corner for two long months.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">A quick
Google search told me that according to All India Plastics Manufacturers'
Association (AIPMA), domestic consumption of plastic has been growing at 10-12%
CAGR over the last decade. The plastic processing industry is expected to
touch Rs 1.3 trillion (18.9 million tones) by 2015 and increase employment to
an</span><span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"> estimated 7 million by 2015 from the current
3.5 million-plus people.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">So, as futile as this commodity is considered
to be, it is one indispensable unit in our country. In 2012, India was the
third largest consumer of plastic in the world, that says a lot, isn’t it?</span><span style="line-height: 115%;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-sFHsJBmYJK8/UiYhd0wXI5I/AAAAAAAAAXw/xzFc1FFDe6s/s1600/WP_20130903_001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="297" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-sFHsJBmYJK8/UiYhd0wXI5I/AAAAAAAAAXw/xzFc1FFDe6s/s640/WP_20130903_001.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<a href="https://tabassumb.jux.com/abagfullofmusings"><i>https://tabassumb.jux.com/abagfullofmusings</i></a></div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05316919093142080388noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-754623931840414391.post-72417417511530729142013-05-07T06:47:00.002-07:002013-05-12T00:07:47.221-07:00 Five things I hate about Mumbai <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Diary of a Frustated Soul!</span></i><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We all know and approve of the magnanimous pool of
opportunities Mumbai throws at you at every nook-n-corner. We also agree that
this city has a charm that no other city offers. And we are crazy about the
fact that Bollywood and Marine drive are both in this same city! But but but,
Mumbai, as impeccable as it is, has some irritating inevitable features that
instigate me to just pack my bags and leave this city. Here’s my personal list
of 5 things I hate about this city.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Wit the advent of summer, Mumbaikars can well understand the
plague of heat and humidity- a deadly combination. I shower, wipe myself clean and
step out of the house, and there it starts, tiny beads of sweat treacherously
crawling down my cheeks, until a downpour of perspiration starts. No
handkerchief or tissue can save you from the horrors Mumbai’s summer has to
offer. One can look around and find ocean of faces, all sweating, cursing and
walking. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The second thing I hate about Mumbai- Travelling. It takes
hours and hours to just reach from one end to another end of the city. And on
busy days, you can finish your whole meal at traffic signals! As much as I love
the trains, they are still a pain. The combination of humidity, packed local
trains, heat and sweat is a nightmare I dread to undertake. And even if you
have the luxury to hop in a cab, you still have to walk. Walking is crucial in
this city, one just can avoid it. Mumbaikars are used to it, but for new
comers, they suddenly have a lot to take in! How can one just walk when the sun’s
shining bright and there is sweat threading down your body?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But, the positive side- travelling is cheap and so is food,
what is expensive is, any guesses? Yes, housing. And that is on my Hate list
number 3. I’ve spent days hunting for affordable flats in South Mumbai, and until
now my hunt continued. For a person working on a meager salary, living near
Marine Drive is dream that stubbornly refuses to turn true. A small 1BHK can
cost you around 50,000-60,000 per month, and that is the starting price. If you
fancy getting a fully furnished flat for anything less, forget it!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It is already challenging to settle down in this hectic
city, what makes it even more challenging is the sheer population. You go
anywhere, walk on any footpath or sit in any restaurant, you will invariably find
people all around you. The crowd comes on Hate list number 4. When you walk on
Andheri station or in Crawford market, you have to play this game of dodging
people. There’ll be crowd filling in from everywhere, and you just have to
squeeze your way through them. The population explosion that this city is
witnessing is historic! Only Andheri has a population of more than 1 lakh. With
more and more people making Mumbai their home every year; infrastructure,
sanitation and basic amenities are suffering a set-back.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But, what I really hate about this city is the one emotion
that it tickles inside my guts- separation. One has to leave his or her home to
be able to carve out a space in this big city. The struggle demands not only
long working hours but also alienation from the comfortable life back home.
There are tens of thousands of migrants living in Mumbai, people who have left
homes to fulfill their dream, people who have come to attain better education
and people who have come just in hope of better opportunities. But, as much as
I hate to admit, Mumbai has made all such people (including me) stronger by thrusting
separation. It has taught me that sacrificing something you gingerly love for
something else is a process you can never avoid. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Mumbai, a city that has inspired so many films, has also
inspired me in life-changing ways. And as much as I hate this city, I love it
for making me the girl I am today- hopelessly independent!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://thepyjamawarrior.files.wordpress.com/2011/09/mumbai1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="http://thepyjamawarrior.files.wordpress.com/2011/09/mumbai1.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<i><a href="https://tabassumb.jux.com/">https://tabassumb.jux.com/</a></i></div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05316919093142080388noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-754623931840414391.post-33053363137681147672013-03-14T09:44:00.002-07:002013-03-14T10:20:34.821-07:00Just a Random thought!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Mumbai. 8 months. Tough life.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">‘<i>Mumbai jitni sakht
hai utni hi mazedaar bhi hai’, </i>this catchy phrase from super-hit movies(can’t
remember which!) invariably enticed me towards the city. I craved to live
independently here, roam about the city, and take time to pamper myself. But
when I landed here, all I did was worry—worry about assignments, deadlines,
classes, hectic schedule, lack of personal space and absence of mummy-made
food. I started disliking the very reasons for which I was here. That stopped
me from actually breathing in my moments of freedom. Silly issues engrossed me
and it became easier to maintain a straight face rather than just smile. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Indore, my home town, is a quite and lazy city. I wanted
action, and Mumbai promised me just that. But when I achieved what I wanted,
its value declined considerably. I wanted to go back to the luxurious home, to
the caring laps of my mother and the spendthrift arms of my father, but here I
was, stuck as ever.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Eight months flew by, and I realize now, I have wasted so
much time! My course at Xaviers is coming to a closure and I have no <i>masala</i> fun-filled incidents to flaunt! I
want to go back, relive each moment, stroll on Marine Drive, kiss the bright
sky, experience the sweaty weather. Alas! Too late!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But, I’m not completely at loss. Mumbai has toughened up the
easily maneuvered nature of mine. It has converted me into a stronger shell,
difficult to break or manipulate. I lived in a cushioned life with my parents,
and Mumbai snatched away all those layers and exposed me to a harsher world. A
world where no one bothers to turn around and give you a second look, a world
with a mad race and no destination, a world where loneliness can threaten to
devour you, but also a world which teaches you to value the minute happy
moments in life.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I know now, I can survive anywhere and smile despite facing
all the odds. These eight months have taught me the importance of many things,
specially the value of my close ones. This was one hell-lot of an experience,
but it was all worth it!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-QO3ofclWklY/UUH-UilpLaI/AAAAAAAAAUU/wXVLVRJLrXw/s1600/Mission+Mumbai.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-QO3ofclWklY/UUH-UilpLaI/AAAAAAAAAUU/wXVLVRJLrXw/s400/Mission+Mumbai.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Also Check <a href="http://www.tabassumb.jux.com/">www.tabassumb.jux.com</a></i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05316919093142080388noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-754623931840414391.post-19136036904090821822013-02-23T09:11:00.004-08:002013-02-23T09:25:54.038-08:00Mumbai's Nervous System<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: left;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The constant vibration,
the loud clatter, the high-pitched calls, the elbow hit, sometimes the feet
stamping, the irrefutable wind blowing, the urge to just fall asleep, the
tiredness, the unbearable body odour, the restricted space, and the chhuuk-chhuuk-chhuuk-chhuuk…<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Mumbai’s Local Train is an experience everyone dreads to
undertake.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QCOiSZKglrE/USj2lRB7QHI/AAAAAAAAATk/gzm_ufIQQMI/s1600/mumbai.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="227" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QCOiSZKglrE/USj2lRB7QHI/AAAAAAAAATk/gzm_ufIQQMI/s400/mumbai.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></span> </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I was a kid when I first saw the local trains. Excitement bubbled
inside me like boiled water on stove, I wanted to experience the maddening
thrill of chasing a speeding train and climbing into it. That thrill evaporated
the moment I experienced it. My love for local trains has reduced to negative in
the last seven months. Now it’s a necessity— speed and convenience, that’s it.
But I can’t refute the fact that local trains continue to be the nervous system
of this magnanimous city. Today, it is responsible for daily commutation of
more than 7.24 million people and has the largest passenger density in the
whole world.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Have you ever just sat idly(that is if you get a seat!) and
observed the insides of a local train? If yes, you know what I’m talking about.
If no, well, you are missing something! There is a pool of versatility pouncing
on you, literally. Rich or poor, educated or uneducated, young or old, student
or professional, you name it, these trains have it. It has an amazing power of
bonding people of all classes together. Marathi, Gujrati, Hindi and English, I
hear a mixture of all these languages regularly.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Not only diversity, but locals present a whole range of
human mentalities too. In ladies coach, you find these ladies who stubbornly refuse
to move even an inch when your station arrives, ladies shouting loudly and
gossiping, but sometimes, ladies who readily help you unload your luggage from
train too. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But what I’m going to talk here is about the two most
interesting elements of local trains- its instant markets and advertorial
opportunities. Even in an extremely packed train, brave hawkers squeeze their
way in and hang their items in steel holders for display. What is even more fascinating
is that women (such shopping freaks they are!) take out time to carefully
scrutinize and buy these items. Imagine a very crowded compartment, women
sweating, some sitting, and most of them standing. Now imagine those who are
standing have their one hand firmly clutched around the metal holders hanging
from the top, and with their other hand, which they tactfully squeeze through
the crowd, they sift through the items. Not only this, they even manage to bargain
and buy it with a satisfied smile. Looking, bargaining and buying, all that in
those extremely packed spaces; spaces in which I can’t even breath!</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0BxNN0w4DdI/USj7dY873VI/AAAAAAAAAUE/VdsaxOqPYA4/s1600/rukshanap2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="253" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0BxNN0w4DdI/USj7dY873VI/AAAAAAAAAUE/VdsaxOqPYA4/s320/rukshanap2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This is just the beginning. Now comes the part about advertorial
opportunities. In the inside walls, plastered on ceiling, doors, windows and
walls are print advertisements- not the normal ones we get to see on TV or
magazines, but some innovative ones. The one I can never forget goes like this:</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: left;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Samasya hai to samadhan bhi hai. <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: left;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Khula challenge 7 ghante me 100% laabh guarantee ke sath, aapki
manokaamna 100% purn hogi jaise- naukri, karobaar me laabh, karzmukti, prem
vivah, manchahi shaadi, kisi ne kuch khilaya pilaya ho, sautan pareshani,
talaak, grah klesh, court matter, filmo me safalta, santaan prapti, lakshmi
bandhan, muthkarni. Call Baba Ahmed Khan”<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Now that is an advertisement! A poor unemployed fellow will
surely try this out. After all ‘7 hours’ sounds so tempting. I was almost on
the verge of calling this baba up, just to check whether its’s true! Not only
this, there are many more ads. “Earn money at home” or “Join a call center” and
the list continues.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is amazing how a
transportation device has been harnessed to its full capacity in all respects,
not only in terms of ads, but also in terms of its space. The local trains display
a capacity of maximum 85 passengers in one coach. Once I tried to count, and
after counting till 97 I gave up. It was too jammed pack! I realized then, the
magnitude of population explosion our country is facing. Every inch is being
used up!</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And as I sit now, writing my blog in yet another local train
(this one is less crowded so I can use my laptop here!), I realize its
necessity in Mumbai. People thrive on locals. Mumbai grew exponentially because
it had locals to connect even its remotest part. This city would have been just
another city, had local trains not spread its nerves in every part of it. What
is commendable is the fact that special compartments are allotted for
handicapped people. And a cherry on cake-- a policeman stands on guard in
ladies coach at night! I sit here alone in the compartment with just another
policeman, and I know Western Railways will ensure my safety. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Mumbai will get handicapped without its locals, and so will
we!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: left;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-cINcIFxXujQ/USj3r_lwLuI/AAAAAAAAAT8/iIP2zOwPVM8/s1600/200220131434.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="281" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-cINcIFxXujQ/USj3r_lwLuI/AAAAAAAAAT8/iIP2zOwPVM8/s320/200220131434.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: left;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EhYb-OxJE_M/USj2-q_EjRI/AAAAAAAAAT0/No-E1UAV5Nw/s1600/200220131433.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EhYb-OxJE_M/USj2-q_EjRI/AAAAAAAAAT0/No-E1UAV5Nw/s320/200220131433.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-small;"><em> The advertisements in trains.</em></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: left;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span></div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05316919093142080388noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-754623931840414391.post-20727888083018036662013-02-14T00:47:00.002-08:002013-02-15T22:06:31.520-08:00An Untold Story: Face-to-face with Naxalism<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It was a
chilling January morning, chilling by Mumbai standards, which is
usually like a steam boiler all throughout the year. I walked on the dry leaves
strewn across the pathway. Panvel’s temperature is, by rule, a few degrees
lower than Mumbai. It’s more open, has fresher air, and provides you with a
blast of greenery. I was in Nere, a village located about seven
kilometers off the main-road. It is a typical village- with <i>kaccha</i> roads
leading you to farms, smell of cow dung filling your nostrils, golden-yellow hay-sack
piling up every lane, and tanned labourers going about their daily routine in the bright sun.<span style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Amidst all this,
under a tree, stood a man who would have otherwise melted into the surroundings
had I not heard him say “Naxalites”. A twiglike figure with hunched shoulders and
curly hair soaked in oil, he resembled one of those geeky students who are
invariably anxious about their upcoming engineering exams.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It would turn
out much later that I was wrong.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I went ahead
to get a better look. He was in his late twenties. He wore rimmed glasses which he kept pressing between the bridge of his nose. His black almond-shaped eyes
reflected innocence and his thin lips spoke cautiously, pronouncing every word
with deliberate slowness. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I was
informed that he was the guy who would drop me at Panvel station. A little
flashback—I had come to Nere with my college to participate in a community
service program. Since I had to leave early, I was supposed to take a lift from
someone and reach Panvel station. It turned out that this lean man was my
helper for the same.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I decided I
wanted to get pally with him. I introduced myself and so did he. He was
assisting the local doctor who treated leprosy patients in Nere. “Bingo,” I
thought. So he is indeed a geek. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I asked, “Did I
hear you saying something about Naxals?” <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">See here’s
the thing, the word “Naxals” has always intrigued me. So I could not control my
urge to question him!<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Yes. I’m
from Bilaspur, Chhattisgarh.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Hey, I’m
from its neighbouring state, M.P.! I live in Indore!”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He smiled. “There
is quite a difference between the both. I belong to a Naxal-hit area.”</span></span><br />
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;">I knew he
was right.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;">The word ‘Naxals’ derives
from ‘<i>Naxalbari</i>’, a village in West Bengal from where the Communists Party of
India (Marxist) first began their violent uprising. Unfortunately this movement
did not limit itself to just that village, it spread like a forest fire. Now it
covers Madhya Pradesh, Chhattisgarh, Orissa, Andhra Pradesh, Maharashtra, Jharkhand, Bihar
and Uttar Pradesh. I have always felt sorry for locals living in that
area. I mentioned that fact to him.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“But I had a
secure life in Bilaspur,” he said.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">That shocked
me. Bilaspur is the epicenter for naksalvadi (Naxal) activities. I got even
more inquisitive. I asked whether Naxals never bothered them or killed locals
as portrayed by the government and media alike. He shook his head, as if out of
habit. “Many people have asked me that question,” he said. “Come let’s talk
while I’m driving, you have to reach Panvel right?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I nodded.
And we left on his Pulsar—with him driving slowly to facilitate conversation
and me clutching the back steel-handle tightly. (PS: I don’t trust men riding
bikes!)<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">On that
half-hour ride, he introduced me to the world of Naxals. I unlearned whatever I
knew before. Naxals originated when landlords suppressed farmers and forcefully
took their land away. It first began as a movement to safeguard their rights.
Later, Communist leader Charu Majumdar entered the political arena to get a
better hold over government. He even wrote “Historic Eight Documents” which
laid down the ideologies of Naxals. Their struggle continued intensively from
1967 to 1975 after which it dwindled due to several causes.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“You know my
father told me that Naxals helped in improving the infrastructure of our area,”
he said. “They not only taught new farming techniques but even brought
development to regions where the government failed to reach us.” <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I was amazed.
I had heard a little bit about Naxal development, but I had always discarded it as
a myth. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“But why do
they kill locals now?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“You’ll be
surprised to know. But there’s a conspiracy theory. In the 1970’s the ruling
Congress party deployed spies in the Naxal group. There were several elements
that started misusing Naxal ideologies and killed tribals. My family believes
that the government dumped allegations on Naxals so that they could justify
counter-attack on them. It was a pre-conceived plan that Congress played.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My jaw
dropped. I could feel goose-bumps now. He continued to explain how his father
was himself a government employee but the Naxals never harmed him. It was incorrect
that Naxals killed locals. They just fought for their rights. But when the
government used unfair techniques, the Naxals retaliated back with murders
and loots. It was then that they lost their aim and started indulging in
violence. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“So what is
the scene now?” I asked.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Now, Naxals
do not involve themselves in any developmental project.” Even with the wind
thrumming strongly in my ears, I could detect a hint of sadness in his tone. He
explained that the government paid many villagers to spy on Naxals and transfer
information. Since then, Naxals have stopped helping villagers. Now they have
grown into a bunch of angry men ready to take revenge. They neither trust
anyone nor are they willing to help locals. They feel betrayed and are unsure
of everyone. That’s why they have limited themselves to jungles and isolated
patches. What began as a fight for the helpless turned into a violent aimless
struggle.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He left
Bilaspur after completing his graduation in Medical Science. He feels his family is
still safe there because he knows that Naxals won’t kill anyone without any
cause. The man sitting right in front of me was working hard in Mumbai so that
he could earn and go back to Bilaspur to start a hospital. He wanted to get better
medical aid for his city. And neither the government nor the Naxals will help him in
that.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-erm9rrfhYR4/URykfZKQFrI/AAAAAAAAASs/v7pIzuKJHu4/s1600/17sld5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="277" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-erm9rrfhYR4/URykfZKQFrI/AAAAAAAAASs/v7pIzuKJHu4/s400/17sld5.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We reached my
destination—Panvel station. I got down, thanked him for the lift and the story that
he had told me. He smiled. I realized this man was everything but a geek. He’s about
to start his own hospital, how cool is that! <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I waved good
bye and left. When I had caught my train and was reflecting back about my
meeting I realized something. I spent 45 minutes with this man and we did’nt even know each other’s name!<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Damn!<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But at
least, I learnt something more about the dreaded Naxals. That is-- <i>Don’t dread
them, help them.</i></span><span style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wKW2A3elM-A/UR0mpw4-6EI/AAAAAAAAAS8/8uNO2oQsKGo/s1600/NaxalaffectedareasIndia2009.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wKW2A3elM-A/UR0mpw4-6EI/AAAAAAAAAS8/8uNO2oQsKGo/s640/NaxalaffectedareasIndia2009.gif" width="465" /></a></div>
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05316919093142080388noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-754623931840414391.post-88145645947170723292013-01-28T11:29:00.001-08:002013-02-01T01:01:24.977-08:00Of ‘Marriage’ and ‘Singlehood’<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<i><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We met after exactly four months.
Last time I saw her, she looked fresh like a juicy apple, her cheeks glowed and
her smile never faded. Now, she had that same rosiness, but there was something
about that smile- it looked more tired.</span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<i><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It was a
lazy Sunday afternoon. I took bath in a hurry and ran to the Marine Lines
station with my hair dripping wet. She stood on the main road looking for me. Her
eyes pressed into a thin crease as she strained against the sun overhead. Then
her eyes fell on me, and she smiled automatically. I walked faster and smiled
in response. Her smile had always been infectious. When I reached her, we did
not hug or exclaim loudly. We just smiled, exchanged a “hello” and I took her
large handbag and we set off walking again, back to my house.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">That was our
friendship. My childhood friend and me- we never expressed our love for one
another, never bought fancy gifts for birthdays, and never remained in close
contact like besties do. But, we still shared a bond in which we shared
everything the moment we got down together.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Earlier our
talks used to be of college, parents, studies, shopping, latest fashion and
movies. Mostly we shared our world on either her or my scooty- a vehicle that
provided us the time to sit and ride wherever we wanted. This Sunday things
were different. She was a married pregnant woman and I was a stressed out
college student. We did share everything yet again, but, on my bed and not on
my pearl silver scooty.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">She is one
and a half years older than me. But I never felt any age difference throughout
our childhood or adolescence. That age gap only broadened dramatically when she
got married in October last year. I realized this the moment we started
talking. I asked her about her life and she set off to describe the intricacies
of a married life. She lives with her husband and in-laws and is still coping
up with the hectic lifestyle that Mumbai presents. Her days are spent doing housework,
and when dusk approaches she waits for her husband to return. She has been
thinking of doing some job in order to contribute her share in the family’s
budget. But with her pregnancy, she knows she has to wait for a long time
before she can realize her dream. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Her thin
body has been bearing a seedling since four month. This February, she’ll be
five months pregnant. I felt weird. My stupid college talks and assignments
seemed meager in front of her family plans and pregnancy talks. She spoke about
how she had sudden urges to eat chocolates and how sometimes she felt
instantaneous hatred towards a food item. “That happens”, she said and I
nodded. It all went beyond my level of understanding. I obviously have never
tasted such an experience and watching my friend go through it felt as if it’s
me whose experiencing the joy of bearing a child. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We spoke for
hours about mundane issues and it registered how matured our talks had become.
From movies to silly crushes, we have now moved on to another level. Our talks
lingered on future job plans and busy lifestyle, pressure on our heads and our
efforts to cope up with them, current news and its impact on the society. Who
thought two silly girls would grow up to share the contrast that they share?
While one is a happy satisfied housewife, the other is a busy diploma student.
While one is worried about maintaining the monthly budget, the other is
spending carelessly on shopping. While one is about to become a mother, the
other is in the process of hunting for a job. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Our lives
were so similar previously, now they are poles apart. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But when I
think now, I’m glad we still share the same old bond of friendship! I’ve
learned lessons from her that no un-married friend could have taught- that is
selflessness and devotion to your own family.</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05316919093142080388noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-754623931840414391.post-42830995746062592902012-12-28T20:56:00.000-08:002012-12-29T22:30:47.015-08:00The Racket<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When one watches Slumdog Millionaire,
one wonders whether in reality a racket as brutal as child trafficking really
exist. The smuggling of young kids, training them to sing bhajans, and then
using them to beg on roads makes us question the authenticity of the whole
process. May be this is’nt real. But things more gruesome than this are…<span style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Yc1uCTeWl4Q/UN55f_mE4nI/AAAAAAAAASI/VgpYSPu-78w/s1600/dharavi.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Yc1uCTeWl4Q/UN55f_mE4nI/AAAAAAAAASI/VgpYSPu-78w/s400/dharavi.jpg" width="400" /></a><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When I first
stepped in the Cuffe Parade slum, I instantly felt nauseated. Was I sick? No!
It was the atrocious stink which filled my nostrils and reached the pit of my stomach
that made me want to puke. Even when I was busy trying to control my nausea, I
could not help but get surprised by the fact that the people around me- the
‘slum-dwellers’, were absolutely fine with the obnoxious stink that made me
sick. Recovering from that initial attack, I moved further into the depths of
the slum. A mix of dilapidated shanties and ‘<i>pacca</i>’ houses flanked either side of the ‘<i>kachha</i>’ road. People, specially men kept staring at me with
eyeballs ready to pop out any instant. I felt an urgent need to go and grab a
stole or ‘<i>chunni</i>’ for myself. Why did
I come here? I kept asking myself. If it was not for this assignment I had to do,
I would never have come here.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The slum I
was roaming in can be fairly categorised as a well-to-do slum. People do not
live in extreme poverty here, although you could fairly guess that they do
struggle to make their both ends meet. For basic bread and butter one has to
work for the whole day and only then can he expect a decent meal. My initial
shyness evaporated in about twenty minutes, and then I started my interaction.
I was chit-chatting with young boys playing football when my eyes fell on a
policeman who was keeping his eyes steadily on the boys. I decided to talk to him.
Mohan Bhisai, the officer who has been appointed to look after kids in that
lane spoke in a guarded tone, as if not sure how much to reveal. “My senior
instructed me to stay here”, he said. “I look after the kids who play here
since there have been several kidnappings in the past”, he further added after
a little urging from my side. Zapped, I stared back at the kids. Were they even
aware of the potential threat they faced in their own locality? The home, the
shelter, the protective cocoon, which made them feel so secure, was in fact one
of the most dangerous place to live in.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I kept
asking other people, since Mr. Bhisai was in no mood to divulge further
details. What I gathered was shocking. Young kids, less than six to seven years
old were kidnapped and found dead a few days later near the slum. There were
two things common in all the missing kids- their dead bodies were invariably
discovered on a ground near Lalit building in Cuffe Parade and even more
gruesome was the fact that the kidneys of all the corpses were found missing.
What was shown in the movie Slumdog Millionaire was nothing in front of this horrifying
kidney racket.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Bharat
Chauhan, a young <i>banjara, </i>spoke about
how his neighbour’s three-year-old daughter was kidnapped and later found dead
on the same ground. “Her kidney was missing”, he confirmed. And what he added
on was even more horrendous- the girl’s head was chopped off. Such brutalities
immediately alerted the Cuffe Parade police and they installed CCTV cameras
along with stationing policemen in every lane of the slum. When asked, people
talk about such kidnappings with caution, since they have been instructed not
to discuss much about it by the police.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I went to
the police station to enquire further, since the locals were not giving in much.
Jagannath Gaikwad of Cuffe Parade Police station mentioned that the first
kidnapping took place on October 20, 2011 when a girl went missing from
Sayonara Junction. Days later her dead body was recovered. The second
kidnapping happened on January 12 2012. This time a three year old girl was the
target, she was kidnapped while she was walking with her grandmother. The third
incident took place on April 18, 2012, and yet again a girl was kidnapped. All
the girls were found dead after a few days. The police preferred to keep mum
when asked if there were any signs of sexual assault. And they maintaned their
silence when asked about kidneys being stolen from the bodies. Their silence forced my thoughts to linger on one possibility- a huge racket was at play here. Its web was far-fetched and full of conceits. No one knew what to say or whom to blame. The
police has not yet unearthed evidence against a single party. Too many
questions and too many doubts, so far nothing has been answered.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">However, the
police did start taking measures with the second kidnapping and stringent
action scared off perpetrators. But fear flies high, and slum-dwellers still
worry about their little ones playing outside blissfully. The ignorant children
are not even aware that they’ll be picked by strangers from just outside their
houses. The people living there stated that kids were lured by chocolates and
they followed the person wherever he took them. Even after repeated attempts at
cautioning kids, this process of trapping kids continues.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Can the
children of Cuffe Parade be saved from a racket that is freshly brewing? For
that we need to rely on the police and make the slum dwellers more cautious.
Only then can one hope to save what looks like another Slumdog Millionaire in
making.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05316919093142080388noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-754623931840414391.post-62967852875953919312012-11-01T07:11:00.000-07:002012-12-29T22:29:32.144-08:00To Yash ji, with Love.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<i>Since months now I did not get the opportunity to blog. With assignments lined up, creativity was messed up! But when I heard the news of Yash Chopra's sad demise, I could not help writing about him. A little tribute to the legend through my small piece of writing.</i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-u7Ur8DNHT5k/UJKCsGhzy8I/AAAAAAAAAR0/8S2bdIxfIrc/s1600/yash_chopranew.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-u7Ur8DNHT5k/UJKCsGhzy8I/AAAAAAAAAR0/8S2bdIxfIrc/s400/yash_chopranew.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I was about to sit for my daily prayer when my friend rushed
in. Her cell-phone, the tool for her twitter updates, was in her hand and she
wore a shocked expression. “Yash Chopra just passed away”, she uttered. I
stopped short, mirrored her expression, and stupidly asked, “How come, his
movie was about to release next month?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I’m not that stupid generally. It was utter shock that made
me ask such a question. What I meant was, you were so fit and healthy, happily
directing movies, and then you suddenly left this worldly life into an another
extension. Yashji, ever since my memory has developed into a substantial form,
I remember the definition of ‘romance’ through your movies. In 1995, <i>Dilwale Dulhania Le Jayenge </i>released, I
remember distinctly how the movie’s lovey-dovey craze rolled over the whole
nation; what I don’t remember is how many times have I watched that film! The
love, the emotion, the action quotient, and the family drama- the movie was a
perfect amalgam of everything. And then came <i>Dil to Pagal hai</i> in 1997, the movie’s music was an instant hit with
my mother, and it didn’t fail to attract a seven-year-old girl like me. I used
to dance to the tune of ‘The Dance of Envy’ and sing ‘Dil to Pagal hai’ song
24*7. You gave music and romance a new definition, and that’s the definition I
still acknowledge till date.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When you declared that you were retiring from the film
industry on your 80<sup>th</sup> birthday this year, it gave me a jolt. The 54-year-
long glorious career would finally come to an end. Who would make romantic
movies now? I was even more anxious and equally thrilled to watch your next
flick- <i>Jab ta</i>k <i>hai Jaan</i>. It pains me to think that you would not be here to see
the box office success of this movie (and I’m sure this movie is going to be a
blockbuster hit since it’s in limelight now).</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pfiaE1O8s0s/UJKCMJ2a6II/AAAAAAAAARs/BkJWVm9ugyA/s1600/yash-chopra-films.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="318" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pfiaE1O8s0s/UJKCMJ2a6II/AAAAAAAAARs/BkJWVm9ugyA/s320/yash-chopra-films.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> I started falling in
love with Shahrukh’s acting with your movie <i>Darr</i>,
and I started believing in hard-core romance after watching <i>Chandni </i>and <i>Silsila. </i>The elegance of Sridevi in Chandni, the ‘Angry young man’
look of Mr Bachchan in Deewar, the sugar-sweet romance of Shahrukh in DDLJ, and
the seriousness of Anil Kapoor in Lamhe- it all came out from the mind of one
brilliant man, and that’s you, Yashji. Speaking of films, one can never forget
your association with Switzerland- I cannot even count the number of films that
have sported Switzerland’s background. Be it the crystal white snow or the long
stretch of tulips, be it the country-side roads or the snowy mountains, your
films have invariably captured the beauty of Switzerland.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The<i> newspa</i>per
spoke of dengue followed by multiple organ failure as the cause of your death,
since then, the thought of ‘dengue’ sends currents of goosebumps in me. Had the
female mosquito Aedes never come into existence, the dengue virus would never
have spread; or had there been a treatment to this deadly disease, you would be
alive at this very moment. So many if’s and but’s… I wish one permutation or
combination worked here! Perhaps then, at this moment you could be thinking of
some new story idea or helping your son Aditya with a new project. Yashji, you
gave Bollywood a different identity. Romance would never be portrayed in the
manner your films did.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When people said the King of Romance passed away- they were
indeed true. No one can ever surpass your directorial skills in terms of
hard-hitting romantic dramas. It is not surprising that BAFTA awarded you its
lifetime membership, which is an absolute honour since you were the first
Indian to receive it. My salute.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Your fan,</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Tabassum.</i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05316919093142080388noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-754623931840414391.post-36379214966579423272012-06-24T09:55:00.002-07:002012-06-24T10:09:54.002-07:00India’s ‘Benevolence’<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">India’s move to extend a sum of $10 billion to dissolve
Eurozone crises looks as if one beggar is sharing his already scarce meal with
another beggar.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">With policy paralysis, sluggish economy, high inflation,
presidential controversies and a row of issues enveloping our country, Indian
government should and must focus on improving our economy instead of making
donations to countries richer than us. The move might have brought accolades in
G-20 summit, with India scoring a decent slot in ‘big donors’ tag amongst
Russia, China, Japan, etc… But was the move necessary?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The amount could have been better utilized in health sector,
education sector, infrastructure or the already battling aviation sector. Our
country today faces uncountable problems, thanks to population explosion. And
when it’s own citizens struggle to make their both ends meet, how is it
possible to help other countries? Take China’s example, it first funded money
in various sectors to boost it’s own economy. Only after securing a position as
a ‘Developing country’, did it extend help to other countries.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pMurd0mTCbc/T-dGU6OqQVI/AAAAAAAAARI/Mr-1xQPvBRE/s1600/Eurozone+Debt+Crisis.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="111" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pMurd0mTCbc/T-dGU6OqQVI/AAAAAAAAARI/Mr-1xQPvBRE/s320/Eurozone+Debt+Crisis.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But…but.. first let us understand the complications behind
Eurozone crises. It began as an aftermath of the great 2008 US and UK
recession, like a contagion effect. There was a big build-up of debts in Spain and Italy before 2008,
and when it resulted into a pressure cooker situation, the interest rates fell
and entire Eurozone was dept-ridden. It might not directly affect India, but an
indirect impact on financial markets is inevitable. Chief Economic Adviser
Kaushik Basu commented that if the crises does not end they will hit India in the
face. But since Europe is no longer our biggest export destination, only an
indirect impact will be observed. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">PM Manmohan Singh said that the crisis in European banking
system was going to prevent economic growth not just in Europe but the world at
large. And I agree. European crises will affect India’s economy. But the consequences
of not investing in one’s own country and donating that amount somewhere else
will be far greater. The solution? Simple. A smaller amount could have been agreed upon
for IMF’s additional firewall of $430 billion. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">With socio-political issues visible in every nook and corner
of our country like a spider’s web, a whopping figure of $10 billion is simply
unaffordable at this stage. Our GDP of January-March quarter is scarily dangling at a 5.3% and
there are no surplus funds to spare too. Besides an even more worrying issue is
the devaluation of rupee, it touched an all time low of 57.37 to the dollar.
Enough mounting tensions already, and to top it up, we have the raging
presidential election controversy too.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X3dQzIoqDRw/T-dGZvrQngI/AAAAAAAAARQ/EIXyyEh2doQ/s1600/220px-Prime_Minister_Manmohan_Singh_in_WEF_,2009.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X3dQzIoqDRw/T-dGZvrQngI/AAAAAAAAARQ/EIXyyEh2doQ/s320/220px-Prime_Minister_Manmohan_Singh_in_WEF_,2009.jpg" width="210" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> Instead of playing ‘<i>Kaun-banega-president</i>’ games I hope the
government focuses more on such critical issues…. Issues like providing
subsidies to agriculture or health sector, or doing something about the bursting inflation.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The UPA is receiving criticism from all quarters, and yet it has it's ears buried deep in the ground.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Even Pritish Nandy tweeted: “Govt. promises booster shot for
the economy on Monday. Hope it’s not another $10 billion for the IMF to bail
out Europe”!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Ahem well, Mr. Prime Minister, are you listening? </span></div>
</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05316919093142080388noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-754623931840414391.post-14379756284390052082012-04-17T09:54:00.005-07:002012-12-29T22:31:53.191-08:00Another ‘Aman Ki Asha’…<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Last year when around a dozen of my family members applied for a Pakistani visa, only half of us got through. We were dejected and crestfallen, a family wedding was round the corner in Karachi, and only six of us got visa. A silent thought floated through each one of our’s mind, why can’t Indo-Pak relations get amicable? Travelling across that ever so thin boundary would be much easier then, we could go there any time and every time we wished to, since half of my family practically resides there!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And when Asif Ali Zardari made a short visit to Ajmer, it was like an ice-breaker. India and Pakistan decided to get friendlier in terms of trade and business, for me that was a twig of a silver lining. My family in the other country immediately applied for visas. Just in case the relations got sour later, why lose such a golden opportunity? And I made a meticulous search on the current bi-lateral ties. Yes, good tide is in for a long time. Pakistan is the only country in the negative list under the Foreign Exchange Management Act, or FEMA, which prohibits investing in India. Now that name has been removed too. India has broadened the scope of FDI for Pakistan and in return Pakistan has taken a step further in naming India as the most favoured nation. Wow, most favoured nation, now that’s something right? Pakistan even increased the number of exportable items from India more than three-fold. Now that’s an immaculate example of <i>symbiotic </i>relationship.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I couldn’t be more happy.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And I’m sure the ones reading this blog share similar notion too. It does not matter whether or not your family or any acquaintance resides in that sister-country, peace is a noun that every single Indian and Pakistani yearns for. The media may have created a hype, stressing on the strained Kashmir issue or the deep-rooted terrorism or the not-so-friendly terms between India and Pakistan, but the people in both the countries have no such issues. I have spoken to many Pakistanis there, and discovered a pleasant truth, they are indifferent to all issues between the two nations. The market sells stuff claiming it is Indian-made, and people buy it immediately. The word ‘India’ has credibility there. I have encountered occasions when, on my routine street shopping occasions, many sellers have tried convincing me to buy items claiming it is from India, I have smiled silently, not because I’m an Indian myself, or not because I know for a fact that those items are not Indian-made, but because the people there consider India at a higher pedestal than you or I can imagine.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Had 1947 partition not taken place, both the nations would have flourished as one. The flawless singers there, be it Atif Aslam or Rahat fateh Ali Khan would have been our singers too, the cricketers there would have been in our team too creating an envious prospect for all other teams ( imagine merging India and Pakistan cricket teams!) and our combined economy would have been on the top slot. Not only this, petty issues like Kashmir dominance and terrorism would not have existed, neither would there be any strain on the LOC. Anyways I have gone far away from the practical world into an imaginary realm. This is just the beginning, if ever, peace is to come as a topping on both the countries, then we need more such initiatives. One for example, was Times of India’s ‘Aman ki Asha’ campaign that brought the arts of both the countries on a single platform.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Such endeavors constantly remind us that scope of love, friendship and cross-border trade is still probable. I’m reminded of a beautiful verse from Rabindranath Tagore’s poem...'Where the mind is without fear' , and I can not end without sharing few lines.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Where the mind is without fear and the head is held high<br />
Where knowledge is free<br />
Where the world has not been broken up into fragments<br />
By narrow domestic walls<br />
Where words come out from the depth of truth<br />
Where tireless striving stretches its arms towards perfection<br />
Where the clear stream of reason has not lost its way<br />
Into the dreary desert sand of dead habit<br />
Where the mind is led forward by thee<br />
Into ever-widening thought and action<br />
Into that heaven of freedom, my Father, let my country awake.</span><o:p></o:p></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/dz6YylorUGM?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></i></div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05316919093142080388noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-754623931840414391.post-56500874666368156042012-03-18T10:15:00.007-07:002012-12-29T22:34:21.687-08:00The Leading Ladies…<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I read two articles today in Times Life…one was titled, “<i>Mighty opponents in a Hijab</i>” and the other one was named “<i>Off with her Tee</i>”. I was mildly surprised with the content.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Here is the Link.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">- <a href="http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/life-style/people/Mighty-opponents-in-a-hijab/articleshow/12314729.cms">http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/life-style/people/Mighty-opponents-in-a-hijab/articleshow/12314729.cms</a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">-<a href="http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/life-style/people/Off-with-her-tee/articleshow/12314768.cms">http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/life-style/people/Off-with-her-tee/articleshow/12314768.cms</a> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The reason I’m sharing these articles is quite simple. They talk about different facets of being a woman. One article talks about Iranian women, dressed from head-to-toe, with only their face and hands visible, playing a close-contact game like <i>Kabbadi</i> with their Indian counterparts, who effortlessly hop and snatch in shorts with the ease of a wild predator. The picture in the newspaper itself is so expressive. It speaks so much about the plight and oppression women face in countries like Iran, Afghanistan, Pakistan and to some extent even India. The word ‘liberty’ is alien to them and they do as they are told by the government.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The other article was about the so-called infamous ‘FEMEN’ activists. Again the picture literally screamed a thousand words. When I first saw the picture, I was amazed by the audacity of the newspaper printing such pictures, topless Ukrainian girls with ‘crisis’ written against their breast. Then my mind told me to act matured and read the article. The article was just an interview, but it reflected so much more. The girls were there to create a difference, they were fearless of speculation and determined to be heard. That’s the reason why they opted for protesting topless, it grabs attention, and well it surely does! </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-A-pUzKqSEVA/T2YXkDiAc6I/AAAAAAAAAO8/zIOwuLnoda0/s1600/femen1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-A-pUzKqSEVA/T2YXkDiAc6I/AAAAAAAAAO8/zIOwuLnoda0/s320/femen1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I have a fear that I might be becoming a ‘feminist’. After all, all my blogs inevitably merge in one direction- women exploitation and distress. But reading this article came as a huge relief. It made me inhale a relaxed puff of air; women are definitely facing oppression in some or the other form and voicing opinion in their stand is not feminism, it’s called revolutionizing. Call me a female chauvinist, and I’ll be glad. Since my tender teenage years, I have felt both, disgust and infatuation, by women atrocities. If ever I could do something to uplift their status, that day would be like a nirvana for me!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Anyways let’s talk more about FEMEN (based in Ukraine, Russia). This group intrigues me, they display their assets, are stared upon by mobs, and they fight for women rights. Imagine, just standing in front of the Indian embassy, demanding non-biased visa policies, topless, with “I’m not a Prostitute” written on their chest, these girls have the nerves to shake the embassy. I’ve been at loggerheads with my mind deciding whether their methods of protesting are ethically acceptable. In response they say this is the best means of grabbing media attention and nailing the culprit. Well I have to agree. Peaceful protest request you to be patient, wait until you are heard and then wait further more until your demands are looked upon. On the contrary the FEMEN activists make sure they are heard the very instant their protest begins, that’s impactful. They are now termed as Russia’s topless warriors! (and yes, I’m smiling :-) ) </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">From 2008 to the present day the group has fought against sex tourists, against the Putin government and for women rights. By 2017, they will muster enough support to launch women revolution in the female oppressed Ukraine. Some goal that is!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gkkGm2pgZRI/T2YX0U8giLI/AAAAAAAAAPE/b7iRmyEyoz0/s1600/sampat-pal-devi-and-members-of-the-pink-sari-or-gulabi-gang.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gkkGm2pgZRI/T2YX0U8giLI/AAAAAAAAAPE/b7iRmyEyoz0/s320/sampat-pal-devi-and-members-of-the-pink-sari-or-gulabi-gang.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I was reading and researching more about this group when I came across another female activist, Sampat Devi, the queen and founder of ‘</span><i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Gulabi gang</i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">’. Being a child bride, this lady has witnessed the harsh reality of Uttar-Pradesh that cinema or television can only try to depict. When she could take it no more, this ice-cream vendor’s wife established her own Ping gang, the members of which wear pink saris, and fire </span><i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">lathis</i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> on anyone acting acridly or harshly with women. These Pink vigilante women beat up corrupt officials, fight against child marriage, prevent domestic violence (by beating up husbands!) and provide grains to the under-nourished. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">These ladies are not exactly a group of male-bashing feminists – they are in fact 'female guardians'.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And these ladies are still under-cover, very few might have even heard about Sampat Devi or Anna Hutsol. What we might have definitely heard of, are names like, Anandi, or Pratigya or Ichcha….the women suffering in ‘reel’ life. But here are ladies who have seen harsher times in ‘real’ life. And they’ve given it all back to the world with a Bang. For me, these are my movie Heroes and my Anandi’s and my Pratigya's… these are my <i>Leading Ladies</i>…</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05316919093142080388noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-754623931840414391.post-30281645642002203662012-03-14T08:11:00.005-07:002012-12-29T22:35:44.562-08:00The Two Extreme Political Cardinals<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Two years back when Rahul Gandhi visited my university and addressed the college-crowd, I thought he depicted the epitome of leadership, his poise had a striking resemblance to the Late PM Rajiv Gandhi, his humbleness promised pure and clean politics, his communication was confident, fluent and filled with conviction, and he invoked a sense of faith in his listeners….I thought ‘finally’ India will be governed by a deserving candidate.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-q_18M6E3UBY/T2C0rpXHa0I/AAAAAAAAAOc/_RO9TG-OYFg/s1600/Rahul-Gandhi.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="224" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-q_18M6E3UBY/T2C0rpXHa0I/AAAAAAAAAOc/_RO9TG-OYFg/s320/Rahul-Gandhi.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Now, in 2012, the unshakeable trust grounded in my heart has somewhat lost its foundation and I question the future of India if it ever lies in his captaincy. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Reason: Very simple. He took the Gandhi name for granted for far too long. He made several promises to the underprivileged, but fulfilled very few. He kept mum during the Anna Hazare campaign when actually he should have voiced his opinion loud and clear. And lastly, he failed to win even a single seat for Congress in his own constituency (Amethi)! Too much hype had been created, too much faith had been bestowed and too many projections had been made about this man, but he failed blatantly. The only reason this man is still valued is because of the surname that he tags along with his name. He is the fourth generation to the Nehru-Gandhi dynasty that has dominated the Congress party, and to a large extent Indian politics. I believe almost every Indian inevitably grounds his faith in the Gandhi family, and the reason why Congress has survived for so long is because the Gandhi pack holds its reins. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But the magic-wand of Sonia Gandhi is losing its charm and her well-projected son just faced a massive blow in UP polls. Where Rahul emerged as an utter flop-show in this year’s elections, an unheard name meticulously worked hard to win a trusted position in Uttar Pradesh. A man named Akhilesh Yadav. This no-nonsense tech savvy man, invariably accompanied by an iPad that dangles by his side, a Anna-like topi adorning his head and an unassuming non-flamboyant air that follows him, brought glory to Samajwadi Party at an early age of 38. Very little is known about Akhilesh, but from what I collected, I understand he is a man if grit, determination and humility. He never disclosed his identity (that of being Mulayam Singh Yadav’s son) in his college, nor did he use his ever so-strong political connections for his benefit. Where on one end, Rahul was nurtured and publicly exhibited as the future face of Congress party, the latter was kept under-cover and educated thoroughly. While there have been uncountable rumours about Rahul being arrested with his Columbian girlfriend in Boston, Akhilesh has thrived with a clean image in our minds. Both represent extreme ends of politics, and both rely on purely opposite tactics of winning over people. Rahul travelled in local trains to manifest his so-called ‘common-man’ image, while Akhilesh actually took his image of being a common man seriously. He flies by economy class every time, unlike the flamboyant chopper trips of Rahul Gandhi. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But above all, what swept me away is his honest attempt to develop UP. I recently heard that Akhilesh Yadav has created a Facebook page where he’ll be inviting suggestions for UP’s development. Now doesn’t this remind you of Anil Kapoor’s ‘Nayak’? What Style, What Optimism and What Charisma. </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-z_qt3Kewq1I/T2C06VaW6uI/AAAAAAAAAOk/P4t6TJp4t2I/s1600/Akhilesh-Yadav.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="259" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-z_qt3Kewq1I/T2C06VaW6uI/AAAAAAAAAOk/P4t6TJp4t2I/s320/Akhilesh-Yadav.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This man is here to transform the face of politics, and for good!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I hope Uttar Pradesh’s youngest chief minister will induce development with a pinch of technology and a slice of education. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">After all he is what every Indian yearns for in politics, young, dynamic and most importantly literate. </span></div>
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05316919093142080388noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-754623931840414391.post-13673518102216964482012-03-11T03:44:00.001-07:002012-12-29T22:39:47.038-08:00Superstitious, Are You?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Love, such an abstract, undefined word.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Like a fountain, it ejects out happiness to one extreme end of the pool and sadness to the other end. I’ve been in situations when my mind literally waged a war deciding one vital question- whether it’s happy being single or is relationship a better way of living life. Of course, till date, I’ve failed to get an answer. Anyways that’s not the reason why I’m writing this blog. As I said, love brings happiness, but it also bestows sadness. And Indian culture with its high-melodramatic love stories, brings with it every possible emotion- bliss, fear, fights, tears, tension and dejection.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Recently one my friend grudged about being a ‘<i>manglik</i>’ and her boyfriend worried over the fact whether marriage was on their cards. Common now, seriously? We live in the ultra-modernized extremely-broadminded 21<sup>st</sup> century, where people have more conviction in science than superstitions. And yet, I find this perplexed couple fretting over their future on a baseless <i>manglik</i> issue. Look at Aishwariya and Abhishek, have you noticed that Abhishek is still alive, and they both even have a daughter? And well for your knowledge, Aishwariya is a <i>manglik</i>. I don’t disregard the whole ‘<i>manglik</i>’ or ‘<i>mangal dos</i>h’ thing, but making it the base for all matrimonial decisions is an absurd idea. The topping on this cake is still left, my friend went a step ahead, she went for online assistance for matching kundlis and finding solutions for manglik dosh. I wondered out loud then, “Such things exist online?” “Oh yes they do, I even found a matrimonial site for all mangliks”, she said. I could utter nothing except issue a deep sigh.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Indian culture is an unpredictable, highly volatile bag. Before a marriage, we have ten different issues that need to be settled down- Is the girl or boy of the same caste? Does he/she eat non-veg? What is the prospect’s education? What is his or her background? Can her father give dowry? Can she cook? How much does he earn?……and blah blah blah. Parents are concerned, agreed, but marriage in Indian context, has become more of a job profile’s check-list than a blissful union of two souls. Christians also marry, do they live unhappily because they do not match kundlis? Parents are concerned about their daughter’s marriage as soon as she turns eighteen, mothers set on a groom-hunting mission in every possible marriage, fathers worry over the marriage expenses of their still little girl and the relatives leave no stone unturned in pressurizing parents to get their son or daughter married!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FmdtOf3VLec/T1yByDkbybI/AAAAAAAAAOU/5uM9jBNQfT4/s1600/images.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FmdtOf3VLec/T1yByDkbybI/AAAAAAAAAOU/5uM9jBNQfT4/s1600/images.jpg" /></a><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And yet, we continue living this ignorant lifestyle, fretting over it, but later accepting it invariably. With all due respects, just pause for a second and wonder, if your whole destiny was written out there, what charm will your life hold then? If pundits or moulavis knew so much, wouldn’t they work upon their own lives? Trying to know what’s in stock for future, and then getting miserable over it is a recipe for disaster! Instead accepting superstitions and yet living our life on our own terms is a wise well cooked dish ;) </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Be ardent believer of manglik dosh or pass it away as superstition, but follow one thing, don’t let religious orthodox principles or culturally bound rule-books ruin your life, instead let those very principles act as a solid base for your values and empower yourself to live beyond the monotonous some ‘<i>baba</i>-assisted’ lifestyle .</span></div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05316919093142080388noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-754623931840414391.post-44218763475911283922012-03-06T08:00:00.004-08:002012-12-29T22:41:27.497-08:00To Curb RAPE?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I happened to come across an old acquaintance in a party recently. We chatted for some time until I casually remarked about my future plans of studying in the Indian capital. She stopped short, her expressions turning somber, “Delhi is not a safe place for girls you know”, was her concerned remark. I wasn’t surprised at all, I’m used to such reactions from people. But hello! For all those who think our city (that is Indore) is a safe place….well wake up! Are you even glimpsing at the local news? MP is nonchalantly becoming a rape bomb. The past two weeks have witnessed local newspapers flashing news of repeated gang-rapes and abduction in Madhya Pradesh. Nothing new, and yet, a deeply troubling issue. Within one short week three such cases were reported; the Betma rape case of minors, the repeated gang-rape of a mute and deaf lady, abuse of a 30-year-old woman by eight rogues and today I read about two rape cases in Bhopal. Such incidents inevitably ransack a woman’s life. <i>Phir kya Delhi aur kya MP, </i>security of women has become a prodigious question-mark everywhere. <i> </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><br />
</i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A survey stated that Madhya Pradesh has 7,000 pending rape cases in court. With the lack of quick deliverance of justice, tedious court proceedings and corruption to spice it all up, we get a nice full platter of injustice to taste. And hold on, the official figure says 7,000. What the actual count is, including the unreported cases, is something our ‘culturally sound’ brains are tuned to ignore. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Despite there being strict laws against rapists, Section 375, Section 376, etc zeroed in for sexual abuse and immediate punishment being sentenced to criminals, why are men still goaded into committing such ruthless felony? The answer may again vary from ‘lack of police security’ to ‘slow judicial proceedings’ or for that matter insensitive careless women being the ones who invite rape. But thinking of it in a broader sense, I feel there’s just one reason… the Indian law does not offer a punishment appropriate enough for such hideous crimes. The accused is sentenced to life imprisonment or in extreme cases sentenced to death, provided if, the case is speedily wrapped up. And this lackadaisical attitude has invariably led to an increase in sexual assaults.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> What India needs at this moment is a drastic decision, that of legalizing <i><b>chemical castration</b></i>.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Castration in simple words means sterilization. It can be treated ‘surgically’ by actually removing testes or ovaries, or can be practiced ‘chemically’ where in certain hormonal changes reduce sex-drive. Many countries have already adopted this law, specially the US states. California became the first to legalize chemical castration in 1996, followed by Florida, Poland, Georgia, Montana, Oregon, Wisconsin, Iowa, Louisiana and Texas. Agreed that there are certain legal and ethical implications of castration in India, but by far it is the most apt tool to curb rape, molestation and other related crimes. Fear of becoming impotent is a sure-shot recipe of scaring away sexual offenders. Child molesters and rapists are perceived as amongst the most vile members of society. And they deserve a rightful punishment after outraging a woman’s esteem. Castration is the answer. Plus it will drastically reduce the rate of rape cases in our country. Indian mentality is like that, a cat will hunt down rats but will instantly get scared of a lion, castration is the lion here. Molesters will definitely get afraid of losing their sexuality. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The revival of castration legislation to diminish sexually deviant behavior is likely to face several challenges. Our society took time to accept Article 377, the world took longer to believe that Earth is round, and it will surely take good long time for Indians to accept this law. But once legalized, castration will save those hundreds of thousands of women suffering from molestation every single day. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9cZ7aXa3LBs/T1Y2IAwi8AI/AAAAAAAAANI/Bzr0j-ZKv8w/s1600/Rape__by_little_pretty.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="310" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9cZ7aXa3LBs/T1Y2IAwi8AI/AAAAAAAAANI/Bzr0j-ZKv8w/s640/Rape__by_little_pretty.png" width="640" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05316919093142080388noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-754623931840414391.post-3120628015859840192011-11-12T22:24:00.000-08:002012-12-29T22:41:57.971-08:00The Untapped Land of Pakistan !<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">(An article I wrote for Naidunia)</span></i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></i><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The word “<st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Pakistan</st1:place></st1:country-region>” means “pure land”. But the irony is, when one pictures <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Pakistan</st1:place></st1:country-region>, he is forced to imagine something entirely opposite. A very conservative and strict atmosphere, an unknown lurking danger, the myth of Taliban and it’s aristocratic rule, a poverty inflicted society, and an anti-Indian government… all this sets our mind tickling about how people even survive there!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But when you step in <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Karachi</st1:city></st1:place>, and take a glimpse of it’s posh well-developed infrastructure, you will be surely forced to change that mind-set. It is as developed as any metropolitan city, and is recently splurging with quality education. You look at the people there, and try to spot a trace of fear of the impending danger, but there’s none, they look as normal and indistinguishable from the Indians. <st1:country-region w:st="on">India</st1:country-region> and <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Pakistan</st1:place></st1:country-region> are like the eyes of a same person, though they can never meet or see each-other, yet they share similar vision, similar culture and similar corruption issues. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And as surprising as this might sound, Pakistanis are very fond of <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:country-region w:st="on">India</st1:country-region></st1:place>, they watch Bollywood movies with equal interest, keep tabs of Indian news 24*7 and feel an inexplicit connection with it’s sister-country as if the two nations are linked with unbreakable threads. Shajar Ali, a watchman from <st1:city w:st="on">Karachi</st1:city> says, “Half of my family resides in <st1:city w:st="on">Lucknow</st1:city>, and <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">India</st1:place></st1:country-region> is like my other home. I keep going there once in a while. However I just wish the tension between <st1:country-region w:st="on">India</st1:country-region> and <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Pakistan</st1:place></st1:country-region> gets over, getting a visa has become even harder after the Mumbai terror attacks”. When asked what difference he sees between <st1:country-region w:st="on">India</st1:country-region> and <st1:country-region w:st="on">Pakistan</st1:country-region>, he said, “I’ve seen more love amongst people in <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">India</st1:place></st1:country-region>. They are warm and affectionate, everything else between the two nations is almost same.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<u><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The Difference?<o:p></o:p></span></u></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Pakistan and India are similar and different in so many ways. While corruption, scams and cricket are invariably hot topics in both the countries, many other issues such as security, freedom of expression and women empowerment vastly differ in both the nations. Indian air promises a sense of freedom and safety. But the minute you enter <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Pakistan</st1:place></st1:country-region>, you’ll be advised to remove all your jewelleries. Thieves their follow you like a shadow, and people are scared of wearing any jewellery simply because they might get looted on gun-point. Even the police and administration can not fight that shadow. When asked how they wander about on streets wearing jewellery, Tasneem Malik, a housewife said, “Well I have almost stopped wearing gold jewelleries, mostly it’s imitation jewellery that I wear. There have been cases of loot in our neighbourhood, and sometimes robbers even kill ladies for not handing over their jewellery. It’s best we do not take any risk”. Even marriages here are held secretly without any flamboyance, since a little pomp-n-splendor can easily invite attention and lead to inevitable robbery. While Tasneem feels security is a big issue in Pakistan, Malik-ul-ushtar, a businessman, on the contrary feels Pakistan is a great country which is just caught up in international politics. He says, “Theft and robbery are issues every country deals with, the real issue with Pakistan is with particular sects of terror groups which are bent on creating havoc, and media is no help either, it has just exaggerated the situation. Otherwise Pakistan is a beautiful nation and everything is normal here.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<u><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Women Liberty<o:p></o:p></span></u></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<u><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></u></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5o1nTkzfoag/TrYs-rFnhOI/AAAAAAAAAMI/BvGLN3QA_cg/s1600/paki_burkha.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5o1nTkzfoag/TrYs-rFnhOI/AAAAAAAAAMI/BvGLN3QA_cg/s320/paki_burkha.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<u><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></u></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">If Pakistan has some golden points every nation should look up to, it also struggles with certain dark areas too. Gender equality and freedom of expression are two rights one is unofficially denied in this country. In the cream classes you’ll fail to notice this injustice, but the masses are a crystal clear projection of this invisible barrier that’s threatening to pull down Pakistan’s growth process. Clad in ‘<i>burkhas</i>’ and covered from head-to-toe are ladies living in their own protected shell, unaware of the freedom and opportunities outside their realm. You can not find even a single woman driving any two-wheeler there. Shocked? Well should be. It is not considered appropriate for women to drive two-wheelers, since of course driving openly in public without any shelter is way beyond what the society can tolerate. About this Mrs Patanwala said, “I have been to India once, watching ladies drive made me realize how much I’m actually missing. But there’s a cultural difference between India and Pakistan, in Pakistan you can not take any sort of risk, not even of driving a two-wheeler in public”. Though this observation might seem petty to the larger half, a small percentage of women hate this distinction, they feel it holds them back. Mrs Malik says the unavailability of two-wheelers for women is a definite sign of backwardness. But on the contrary, Athar, a businessman, sees no harm with the practice and explains the logic behind it. He thinks in accordance with Islam, a lady should never do anything that invites the attention of men. Driving a two-wheeler openly is dangerous as well as a risky invitation to thieves. So avoiding driving will ensure a woman’s safety. Justified or not, this practice has now been embraced by almost everyone, to the extent that they have grown happily habitual of it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<u><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">On Terrorism<o:p></o:p></span></u></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Just like a snake coiled tightly around it’s enemy, terrorism has established it’s tentacles firmly in Pakistan. It has converted the pure land into a draconian state ready to swallow any one standing against it. And as shocking and disgustful as it might sound people have grown numb towards violence; bomb blast and firing are scenes they confront daily. And you can’t even blame them. The environment itself is so soaked with terrorism, that a person learns to live with it. You’ll never fail to notice armed policemen guarding important areas prone to threat. However according to the locals, recently the situation has drastically improved and the rate of terror strikes has marginally reduced. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<u><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Cricket: Game or Shame?<o:p></o:p></span></u></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The recent verdict on spot fixing brought some very famous cricketers like Salman Butt, Mazhar Majeed, Mohammad Aamer and Asif in limelight. In a nation where cricket is religiously followed, these incidents shake people’s utmost interest in cricket. While for some this is small news, but passionate fans got a huge blow after hearing this revelation. Murtuza Ali, an avid cricket fan said, “I was and still am a huge fan of cricket. I always believed in our team, but the spot fixing incident has disappointed me a lot. The country has given these players so much, and in return they betray us with spot fixing. It’s very unfortunate”. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Do you smell corruption? India and Pakistan after all have something in common!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<u><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Marks of Progress<o:p></o:p></span></u></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Amidst the dark episodes comes a brighter chapter, that of progress and broader vision. Many schools all over the country have now turned co-educational, which was an unlikely scenario few years back. Another scenario you are unlikely to find anywhere else is the transport system. Speaking of Karachi in particular, you can neither ignore it’s butter-like roads nor it’s ultra-unique buses. It flaunts beautifully adorned buses with paintings and colourful designs. And you just can’t take your eyes off those attractive buses (if you have watched the movie ‘Bol’, then you know what we’re talking about!). Although most of the buses have been irreparably damaged by bomb blasts, yet their beauty beneath the charred surface is still visible. Gazala Sabir, an Indian says, “I loved the buses in Karachi. Although they were as congested as the ones you find in Indore, still they had a special charm about them. I was so impressed I purchased a tiny model of the bus”.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HzcVf-nH8O4/TrYtocqRkZI/AAAAAAAAAMQ/0xwTaCTGIqA/s1600/MiniBus.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HzcVf-nH8O4/TrYtocqRkZI/AAAAAAAAAMQ/0xwTaCTGIqA/s320/MiniBus.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The land of Pakistan is an untapped and hidden domain, which is just hooked up in the claws of international politics and terrorism. The people live and think the way we Indians do. And there’s absolutely no difference between the two nations. It’s time we follow the famous phrase, “<i>Make love not War</i>”. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Calisto MT', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05316919093142080388noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-754623931840414391.post-599999346412918322011-08-24T12:30:00.000-07:002012-12-29T22:43:46.740-08:00ANARCHY over DEMOCRACY?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A brief check into the past ><br />
August 15th, 2011: Prime Minister Manmohan Singh said at the Red Fort, “Everyone should know that quick action will be taken against the corrupt and punishment meted out to them. We want a strong Lokpal to prevent corruption in high places. We have recently introduced a Bill in Parliament to achieve this. Those who don’t agree with this Bill can put forward their views to Parliament, however, I also believe that they should not resort to hunger strikes<a href="http://win2vin.wordpress.com/2011/08/15/pm-manmohan-singhs-independence-day-speech-15-august-2011/">...</a>”<br />
<br />
August 16, 2011: Anna Hazare was deterred early morning on grounds of apprehension of breach of peace.<br />
<br />
August 23, 2011: PM expresses his worries over Anna’s health and asks him to end his Anshan.<br />
<br />
August 24, 2011: Government plainly states that Anna’s Anshan is not their problem ‘anymore’ and the civil activists have to handle him.<br />
<br />
The government has played its cards well and can not be more explicit in showing its ‘double-standards’. In his speech, the PM allows freedom of expression but the very next day government arrests a non-violent almost-Gandhian man so that he cannot protest against corruption. The same government later voices its worries over Anna’s health, but the following day it makes a flat statement, “<i>Anna ka Anshan ab aapki pareshani hai</i>”. What do you call this multi-faceted behavior…? Well in my books it is called double-standards.<br />
Too much has been said and done. I may add nothing new.<br />
But I do want to say this.<br />
The fact that PM throws a royal <i>‘Iftar party’</i> with ministers enjoying various delicacies, and this being shamelessly broadcasted on national channels at a time when Anna Hazare is fasting, is a sad and despicable act. Further the top honchos of government first agree with four points of Jan Lokpal bill, but the very next day they refuse to corporate with even a single point of the draft, this is pure mockery of people’s sentiments. And party spokesperson, Rashid Alvi casting doubts towards foreign role in this raging campaign is all the more symbolic of government's clueless and helpless political stance. Yet of all, the most pathetic fact is Manish Tiwari referring Anna as a person drenched in corruption. How can a person who has already made Ralegan Siddhi a prosperous and rich village, or a person who has played a crucial role in the RTI bill be referred as ‘corrupt’? He has in fact adopted peaceful and impactful means to address this issue, some may differ in principle that his methods are unconstitutional, but think about it. What constitutional method would have turned fruitful? Joining the government? Or patiently waiting for the bill to get addressed in the parliament? Wake up, this draft has been in waiting list for 42 long years, and patience would have added 5 more decades and nothing else.<br />
The government is in deep shit, ‘shit’ here is corruption. And creating a powerful medium to execute their red-tapism and malpractices is a threat to their survival. Naturally, it will try its best in shelving this draft. And so it has introduced it’s own convenient version of Lokpal bill in the parliament, which is the worst case of anarchy over-powering democracy. For those still confused about the core points of Jan Lokpal bill (not Lokpal bill), here’s a summarized version:<br />
<br />
1. Cases against corrupt people will not linger on for years anymore: Investigations in any case will have to be completed in one year. Trial should be completed in next one year so that the corrupt politician, officer or judge is sent to jail within two years.<br />
<br />
2. The loss that a corrupt person caused to the government will be recovered at the time of conviction.<br />
<br />
3. How will it help a common citizen: If any work of any citizen is not done in prescribed time in any government office, Lokpal will impose financial penalty on guilty officers, which will be given as compensation to the complainant.<br />
<br />
4. So, you could approach Lokpal if your ration card or passport or voter card is not being made or if police is not registering your case. Lokpal will have to get it done in a month's time. You could also report any case of corruption to Lokpal like poor quality roads been constructed or panchayat funds being siphoned off. Lokpal will have to complete its investigations in a year, trial will be over in next one year and the guilty will go to jail within two years.<br />
<br />
5. But won't the government appoint corrupt and weak people as Lokpal members? That won't be possible because its members will be selected by judges, citizens and constitutional authorities and not by politicians, through a completely transparent and participatory process.<br />
<br />
6. What if some officer in Lokpal becomes corrupt? The entire functioning of Lokpal will be completely transparent. Any complaint against any officer of Lokpal shall be investigated and the officer dismissed within two months.<br />
<br />
7. What will happen to existing anti-corruption agencies? CVC, departmental vigilance and anti-corruption branch of CBI will be merged into Lokpal. Lokpal will have complete powers and machinery to independently investigate and prosecute any officer, judge or politician.<br />
<br />
8. It will be the duty of the Lokpal to provide protection to those who are being victimized for raising their voice against corruption.<br />
<br />
9. Most importantly, the Lokpal would scrutinize judiciary as well as the lower government officials from where this chain probably starts (or ends). This would make sure that no one would be spared from this body’s gambit.<br />
<br />
These salient features have been logically and intricately designed to make sure this bill works to the best of its capabilities. Although it would be foolish to expect the word ‘corruption’ to altogether vanish away from everyone’s dictionary, but again is’nt this a step towards the greater good? It will surely stir your conscious to step out of this deep shit (since after all we all are corrupt!) and though the process will drag at an insignificant pace, but it will utterly walk in a positive direction. Will this not make the corrupt officials more alert? Will your conscious not retaliate the next time a traffic policeman hints for a bribe? And will not our taxes, instead of going into personal pockets, be better utilized for development?<br />
The answer may waver between may be…who knows…or I don't care, but for me the answer is a solid ‘yes’.<br />
Our country will take a step forward towards cleaner India.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05316919093142080388noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-754623931840414391.post-51340413060531196682011-06-28T22:32:00.001-07:002012-12-29T22:44:58.007-08:00THAT WEEK: An Eternity<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="color: black;"><br />
</span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="color: black;">Picturing a house all to myself and imagining scene by scene the fun</span></span><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="color: black;"> </span></span><span style="color: black;"><br />
<span class="apple-style-span">and frolic awaiting for me, I could not be more eager for the 22nd of</span><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><br />
<span class="apple-style-span">June to arrive. Late night movies, sitting by the window sill and</span><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><br />
<span class="apple-style-span">reading novels for hours, plus a car available 24*7 at my disposal. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="color: black;">I was sure this would feel heavenly, though it all turned</span></span><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="color: black;"> </span></span><span style="color: black;"><br />
<span class="apple-style-span">a mess pretty soon, to be accurate it turned a mess as 22nd was about</span><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><br />
<span class="apple-style-span">to get changed into 23rd of that month…midnight that is.</span><br />
<span class="apple-style-span">Confused?</span><br />
<span class="apple-style-span">Well should be.</span><br />
<span class="apple-style-span">Let me be more specific. My parents were due to leave for Kerela on</span><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><br />
<span class="apple-style-span">June 22nd. It was their Silver Jubilee. Since they were to enjoy their</span><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><br />
<span class="apple-style-span">anniversary together, I was to guard the house for a week in their</span><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><br />
<span class="apple-style-span">absence. The idea seemed grand, I could hardly contain my excitement</span><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><br />
<span class="apple-style-span">about the fun I was about to have. But when I stood on the station watching the train roll away from the platform, a strange feeling unnerved me, was I happy? Or was I terrified by the idea of sleeping alone that night?<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="color: black;">I spent the evening outside my house, determined to loiter around until sunset. When I returned home, believe me the house seemed lifeless. There was no <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">mummy</i> asking me to have milk and no <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">papa</i> to fight with for watching Television. Today the T.V set was a discarded piece of technology for me. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="color: black;">By midnight, a giddy sensation oozed through my nerves. I regretted not calling my sister to sleep over with me. Worst of all, I had spotted a lizard on my terrace earlier, and now I was sure it would be a nightmare for me (I’m a little…no extremely scared of lizards).<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="color: black;">The next day I sweated over the infinite house-hold work lined up for me, and by afternoon I was completely spent. This was something I had never anticipated… no books, no fun and worst…no parents! :(</span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="color: black;">Though over the next three days I had my siblings coming over for night-stays, it never ever filled the void, that space could only be filled by my parents. And even though I started having fun, and had no one to answer about my whereabouts, life seemed ‘aimless’ and ‘bleak’.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="color: black;">My days were consumed by cooking tasteless food and cleaning the house and the nights were unwanted dark times I was keen on sleeping through quickly. The only cheerful moments were visits from my siblings and friends and frequent phone-calls from my parents… And alas when the seven day deadline ended, and I went to pick them up, an involuntary natural smile lit up my face when I spotted a sign saying “</span></span><st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placename w:st="on"><span class="apple-style-span">Devi</span></st1:placename><span class="apple-style-span"> <st1:placename w:st="on">Ahilyabai</st1:placename> <st1:placename w:st="on">Holkar</st1:placename></span><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><st1:placetype w:st="on"><em><span style="font-style: normal;">Airport</span></em></st1:placetype></st1:place><em><span style="font-style: normal;">”. <o:p></o:p></span></em></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><em><span style="font-style: normal;">Finally, I’ll not sleep alone, not today and not in the coming days!</span></em><span class="apple-style-span"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="color: black;">In the seven long days I realized one irrevocable fact, life without parents has little charm in it. For me, I’m like a flower and they are my roots. If we are connected well, I can blossom, stay nourished and transform from a bud into a beautiful flower. And in the absence of those very roots, I might as well droop and lose my charm. I never fully realized their importance until now.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="color: black;">And so, for the ones who have their parents invisibly supporting them from behind, cherish their company and appreciate their care. Don’t wait too long to express a word of gratitude. Some who are unlucky enough have no parents and can not fully experience their warmth.</span></span><span style="color: black;"><br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" /> <br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" /> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Calisto MT';"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;"> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Calisto MT';"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: black; font-family: 'Calisto MT';"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05316919093142080388noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-754623931840414391.post-66874757825093118322011-06-09T21:44:00.000-07:002012-12-29T22:46:38.390-08:00A Sorry State of Affairs…<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">(The confused mind of Indian politics)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The Indian<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> netas</i> never fail to surprise me. Politics is a game for them and they are absolutely flawless in playing it. Our democracy is like a game of chess, the politicians and the opposition are the master players. Each move that they make is a counter attack at the opposite party, but in the process we Indians like pawns are trashed mercilessly. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The current scenario is quite similar; in between the accusations and counter allegations involved in the Jan Lokpal bill, where in BJP supports spiritual guru Ramdev baba and Congress key members like Kapil Sibal try to maintain their poise, the common man is being kicked, manipulated and romped around. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">An even more ‘sorrier’ fact is that a certain minister gives <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">supari</i> to murder Gandhian philosopher Anna Hazare and what is ironical is the fact that the Maharashtra government promises to provide the man full-fledged security. The government threats and protects the same person! Seriously what games do these netas play?!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And during times like these I wonder what Prime minister, Dr Manmohan Singh gains from keeping absolutely mum when his ‘team of warriors’ are out there brandishing police crackdown in the middle of the night on innocent people. Remaining silent about the Rajghat folly is undermining democracy itself. The time and the scenario are both ripe when we Indians must neither encourage corruption nor its practitioners. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Following suit of <st1:country-region w:st="on">Egypt</st1:country-region>, <st1:country-region w:st="on">Tunisia</st1:country-region>, <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Syria</st1:place></st1:country-region>, Yemen et al, it is <span class="apple-style-span"><span style="color: black;">quintessential</span></span> that corruption is nipped in the bud. And irrespective of what political gains Ramdev baba hopes to seek, I salute the man for his endeavour because ultimately his success in ending corruption will benefit the common man as well. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Well anyway, among the infinite series of plotting, backstabbing and conspiracies I gain solace with a small silver lining… Atleast the government has nailed down some big corporate players involved in 2G and CWG scam. But yet again, while they intend to curb corruption they also want to make sure that their occupied corrupted seats do not slide away from them and so a bill intending to check on their practices is the last thing they want.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Such a sorry state of affairs!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: 'Arial Unicode MS';">
<br /></div>
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05316919093142080388noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-754623931840414391.post-26411349119862563602011-03-12T22:23:00.000-08:002012-12-29T22:48:11.074-08:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-OdpeV19L-h0/TXxiZKyfD0I/AAAAAAAAAIE/pr-00KjIRJ0/s1600/1004_lama_a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><img border="0" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-OdpeV19L-h0/TXxiZKyfD0I/AAAAAAAAAIE/pr-00KjIRJ0/s1600/1004_lama_a.jpg" /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-m_tlCfh6c8E/TXxiVbkGyRI/AAAAAAAAAIA/niUkMcziPNU/s1600/dalai-lama.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-m_tlCfh6c8E/TXxiVbkGyRI/AAAAAAAAAIA/niUkMcziPNU/s1600/dalai-lama.jpg" /></a></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Just one line:</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I wish God created more men like DALAI LAMA...<br />
He has all that he wants...Power, Prestige and Politics...and yet he's ready to abdicate it all!</span></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05316919093142080388noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-754623931840414391.post-10543229128141682862011-01-10T06:58:00.001-08:002012-12-29T22:49:49.942-08:00Beyond those walls...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: 300; line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">It has been a year and a half now. And I feel stupid enough, no not stupid but acutely unobservant to have failed to notice the thin discreet line of huts (commonly known as zhoparpattis) across our college campus.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: 300; line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: 300; line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">It struck me today, when I casually glanced towards my right and saw the dilapidated shanties crumpled next to one another. A group of small kids played outside one of those huts, their feet naked, hair messy, and clothes hanging loosely off their shoulders…Their fathers were getting ready to start their day…some by setting up the tools which they would use to repair vehicles, others by cobbling shoes. This was how they earned their living...</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: 300; line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: 300; line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: 300; line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I entered the university gates of DAVV. Inside those secured walls, the world was entirely different! We had a grand university sprawled amongst immense greenery and fresh air, this world somehow promised to bring out a bright future ahead of us. It bestowed on us an institute for education, a canteen to fill our stomachs, and freedom to roam about carelessly, yet we utilized it less and coveted for more and more.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: 300; line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: 300; line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">But on the outside, just as you cross those walls, you find homeless kids working hard but with no future, playing with full energy even though their hungry stomachs were empty, gaping at us in awe when they deserved no less and being deprived of a bright future with no fault at all.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: 300; line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: 300; line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">This is, what I call an “</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Irony</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">”…</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: 300; line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: 300; line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Indeed how sad it is that a wall can set apart two different futures for people belonging to the inner side and the outer side.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: 300; line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: 300; line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: 300; line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">And if you can read my blog, that surely means you belong to the inner side! Be happy for what you’ve got, we never know when the ‘sides’ are exchanged and along with that our futures!</span></span></span></div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05316919093142080388noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-754623931840414391.post-60301932758684860842010-09-30T03:42:00.000-07:002010-10-11T21:45:14.825-07:00Another Temple, another Mosque....another Dispute<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.4px;">Much has been hyped about the controversial</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.4px;"><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.4px;"><i>Ramjanm bhoomi Ayodhya</i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.4px;">... I may add nothing new to it.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.4px;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.4px;">But anyways this issue has been poking me since the last few days and one can't help but feel desperate to express their wishes for peace on this matter..</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.4px;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.4px;">First a brief history, as we all know, Ayodhya was the birthplace of the very loved and respected Shri Ramchandra. It is presumed that when the Mughals invaded <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">India</st1:place></st1:country-region>, Babur built a mosque there between 1194 and 1528. Later In the late 1950s senior members of the RSS organized a Parishad to primarily achieve the construction of a Ram Mandir, at the disputed site of the Babri Mosque. It was followed by a petition filed by Sunni-wakaf board against the temple construction. The disputes continued and got worse when on December 6, 1992 the Babri Masjid mosque was demolished by a large congregation of VHP activists and protestors, who had been camped out at the site for weeks.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px;"></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 6px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">Shockwaves of fear and anger swept through <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">India</st1:place></st1:country-region>'s Hindu and Muslim communities. Over 10,000 Hindus and Muslims were killed across the country in the resulting sectarian violence. Not only <st1:country-region w:st="on">India</st1:country-region>, but <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Bangladesh</st1:place></st1:country-region> too faced the aftermath of the demolition in the form riots, murders and mass destruction.</span></span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">A dark cloud has loomed over this issue since then.</span></span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">And now when the verdict is about to be declared, spare a thought and think of it's consequences. If the verdict bends in the favour of the Muslims, they would not win but rather they would be condemned to the wrath of the Hindu fundamentalist. And similarly if the court favours the Hindus, the Muslim extremist's anger would boil over. In either case, I find both the sides losing....and losing terribly...in the form of valuable life, home and peace. Instead of taking pride in the fact that both Shri Ram and Babur graced Ayodhya with their love, we find a reason to discard the auspicious place as a 13000 square feet disputed </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">land.</span></span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">I would like to share my personal experience here. I completed my education in a Sikh-dominating school and later in a Protestant school. Being born in a Muslim family, I should have feared mingling with the Hindus, or the Sikhs for that matter.</span></span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">But never ever have I felt that I belonged to a minority group. Instead I have received equal amount of opportunities, equal love and equal number of friends that other children (of different religions) were entitled to.</span></span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">Religion was merely a description of my background, not a basis of distinction. I have, perhaps made more friends outside Muslim community whom I can blindly trust, though that also does not demean my own religion... today I'm first of all an Indian citizen and later a Muslim or a Hindu. </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">What I wish to say is this....whether or not people are happy by the verdict, lets just bury the past and show that we are matured enough to avoid another</span></span><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;"> </span></span><span class="apple-style-span"><i><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">Babri riot</span></i></span><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">. </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;">God did not create this soil for Hindus or Muslim, he created it for humanity... </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div></span></div></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05316919093142080388noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-754623931840414391.post-60283788087902692122010-09-01T07:56:00.000-07:002010-09-01T07:56:50.297-07:00The movie impact...<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The recent box-office hit, "</span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Once upon a time in Mumbai</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">" has surely won the hearts of many Indians, specially the Mumbaikers.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The movie features the very feared era of the 80s when underworld had a strong foot-hold in every nook-n-corner of Mumbai (then Bombay) streets. The complete film portrays the life of two very prominent mafias and their ladder towards the peak of crime. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Great acting, superb storyline and commendable direction. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Kudos for that!</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But the obvious fact that we have happily missed is that, where on one hand the film has depicted real life story of dons like Haji Mustan and Dawood Ibrahim, on the other hand it has also glamorized crime in inexplicable ways. The audience gets intrigued, later sympathizes and finally comes to respect the character of "Sultan", who despite being a poor orphan, chased his dreams and became a powerful smuggler.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It is known that the Indian audience is very sensitive and gets easily influenced when it comes to Bollywood. It loves to adopt the reel life characters. When an entertaining movie like 3-Idiots can influence students to commit suicide; can't this, being a potential film, pave way for fresh criminal minds?</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Join Underworld.....Money, Power and Respect will follow you.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Moreover the entry into the underworld has been rendered as easy and sure-shot path towards fame.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">What's more? The 'good-man' , Sultan is at the end killed by the 'bad-man', Shoaib, and the city of Mumbai is doomed to the pits of hell. Quite opposite to the very famous Ramayana phrase, " Victory of good over evil", is'nt it?</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Indian audience is largely influenced by what the actors do. For them the hero is the ultimate God. It is therefore quite dangerous to present a real life story in such a raw form. May be it was the requirement of the story, but glamorising crime and underworld has since long attracted many strayed youth towards this dark business..</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05316919093142080388noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-754623931840414391.post-26392215232091823032010-06-28T23:40:00.000-07:002010-07-08T06:20:30.353-07:00An Encounter with a stranger...<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: 300; line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">It was a hot sultry day....though the rainy season had commenced but ironically not even a single drop of water was to be seen around.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: 300; line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: 300; line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Indore was boiling hot.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: 300; line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: 300; line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I was sweating profusely, and to add to my pains I had opted to wear a full-sleeve black kurta!(what was I thinking?)</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: 300; line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: 300; line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: 300; line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">But none of these minor galling issues bothered me. I was excited to the core, since I was ready to set off to Mumbai all by myself. My parents could barely suppress their tension, their little girl (Eighteen, officially adult and yet "little") was about to travel all alone and that too by train! The 1st class A.C coach brought little peace to their agitated souls. But still with a heavy heart they bade me farewell...</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: 300; line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: 300; line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: 300; line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I was to stay at my grandmother's place for a week.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: 300; line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: 300; line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: 300; line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">The train glided smoothly from the platform with a low screeching noise. The hurly burly was ceasing slowly. In a matter of 10 minutes, my cell phoned beeped, it was an incoming call from my father.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: 300; line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: 300; line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">"Everything all right in there?" he asked with barely concealed worry. "Yes paa...don't worry, I'm fine", and with that I put my cell away in my handbag.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: 300; line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: 300; line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">"So first time in train huh? Alone I mean?". The question had come from an uncle, he was in his late forties yet had a brawny physique. "Yes" I replied.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: 300; line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: 300; line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: 300; line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">"Aah that explains it all" he smiled a knowing smile, the smile that acknowledged the anguish my parents were going through. After all he was a father himself.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: 300; line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: 300; line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">With that the ice was broken and we conversed freely about anything and everything. The topic slowly settled on my education. He some how had keen interest in what I studied. "Media student", I replied but with a sadness edging in my voice. " Don't you like your course?", he asked.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: 300; line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: 300; line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">"Well, I do. But I wish I could study in Mumbai"</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: 300; line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: 300; line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">He sighed. "you are a girl ...." was all he could manage. The statement hung in the air between us. So me biologically being programmed as a female was the only reason why I could not study alone? This discrimination was something that always lingered in the corners of my mind, biting me inwardly, mocking me silently.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: 300; line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: 300; line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">This whole world is a male chauvinist pig, I thought grumpily.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: 300; line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: 300; line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">"We are in the 21st century, Uncle" I said silently. "Yes but parents are always a generation older, you see" he said and then continued, "You younger lot think that everything is possible at your age, but you often overlook the small difficulties of surviving alone. Adjusting in a new environment, living independently, doing chores, washing clothes, your life becomes very challenging. The luxuries you took for granted will be absent when you step alone in the world. Your parents are just saving their girl from that danger and when the time is right, they'll let you free"</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: 300; line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: 300; line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">I marvelled at his deep insight. Thinking of it, I did remember going on a school trip for a week and missing my parents sorely, since I had to pack luggage on my own and clean the room, again on my own. And I knew I was not yet ready to depart from my family, though, if only for 3 years. We youngsters often turn oblivious towards our parent's wishes, just to chase our dreams. Be it settling abroad or living in the same house and yet ignoring your parents.. Our life, just like a 'leech' has drained us of little moments of peace and bliss with our family members. Big-packaged jobs and crisp green notes are all that we're bothered about now. It was the breaking of dawn for me. The dream I so desperately yearned to chase before, now became trivial infront of my loving family.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: 300; line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: 300; line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Yes, I did take many things for granted. But now I was about to take a U-turn.</span></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05316919093142080388noreply@blogger.com6