Akarmanyata (Inaction) Continued

Dear Reader,

I am guilty of putting away efforts to hide under 'something else' to occupy my time, I am guilty of not having expressed what I think - WE should be thinking. I am guilty of procrastination which makes me no different from the other indifferent us. Those who crib about the system, and corruption and inaction and what difference does it make and the works, but refuse to do anything about it. We choose to remain silent, unmoved, dis-en-gaged, as a mark of protest against the state of the affairs, not realising that by staying mum all we are doing is add to inertia, the very thing that we want to change.

I have for days heard and read what actors, leaders, ministers, activists, celebrities, models, singers, strategists, and so called think-tanks have said or written. I would accept for almost all this time I had a cynical grin on my face thinking about how soon will this voice, and noise die down and Page 3 will prevail and how it all will just end up being a business case study. I had decided that my silence will be my protest against it, however I failed to realise that my silence will only help bring the pompoms sooner than they should. This was brought to my notice by an argument I had with someone who never fails to question my cynicism, and I realised that maybe that one more voice is really not so miniscule as all. Who knows when we reach the tipping point?

But procrastination never let me say what I wanted to say, everytime I read one of those articles/statements/slogans. I am not taking names here, but you know there is only so much that hollow sloganeering can do. And news channels HAVE to take care of their TRP's for their celebrity reporters, who become more celeb than attend to their primary responsibilty. However I should also accept that I never did my part. Today I realised, I dont have to. I read this one appeal by this young woman in Bangalore, and I know that I dont have to articulate the voids, that she has said what I have been wanting to. And here I go back to the shadows and give you this one by Payoshi Roy of Bishop Cotton School, Bangalore. Cheers to her, and that fact that not all of us are in the snarls of inaction. That there is some action after thought. And that is hope enough.

---

'STOP THINK CRY LOVE..'

The siege on Mumbai left even the most experienced of us stunned. Even those who have become immune to grief and tragedy stopped for asecond. The 48-hour encounter with these extremely sophisticated and trained terrorists of Pakistani origin left India burning in every sense of the word. The versions and accounts are endless. Trying to quantify people's grief would not only be futile but indeed low down. People who went for their daily evening session of beer and gossip atthe Leopold café, that special once a month dinner at the Taj or forthe bitter sweet occasion of farewell at CST Station never returned.

This isn't the first time we're hearing about something like this. These stories have been talked about through out this year and to be honest through out our lives. We have experienced five separate series of bomb blasts across the country in this year alone. The dreadful cries of the Gujarat riots are yet to recede from recent memories. The2006 and 1993 Bombay blasts and riots haunt their victims even now.

However, we are not here to talk about the grief that these victims suffer. Nor do I wish to discuss the various and repeated intelligence failures and lackadaisical attempts of the government and its security agencies. We are here to figure out what exactly is wrong with us,because it is evident that there is something horribly amiss in this country and it's people.

People are not born terrorists. Teenagers do not get up one fine daywith the conviction that violence is the path of their lives. The terrorist that battled with NSG in the Taj hotel for over 24 hours was not more that 25 years old. Can any of you imagine the kind of courage and determination that this young boy exemplified in accomplishing such a feat. He is a terrorist, a terrorist who is responsible for the death of over 150 people. He is also a mere boy. A boy whom we have forced into becoming the man he died as. The Indian mujahidin consists of young boys from the JMI College in Delhi. Sadhvi Pragya is in her early twenties. These people are our age. They are people who we seein movie halls and at street corners. They are not aliens of another race. Terrorism was not brought in from Mars. It breeds within us. The worst part is, that we created it.

Every kind of terrorism stems from extremism; and extremism is the most obvious ramification of discrimination. Discrimination is sadly practiced in every nook and corner of our country. We think it's insignificant, we think that it's just the way people are. But it is discrimination and if only we were brave enough to face it.

It is discrimination when the age-old story of Hindu parents refusing to marry their daughter into a Muslim family repeats itself. It is discrimination when parents of Muslim children refuse to sing Hindu bhajans. It is discrimination when Christians refuse to participate inHindu and Muslim festivals. All of this is discrimination. And every form of terrorism and extremism finds it's roots in this kind of discrimination, which is practiced in each and every one of our homes. That is why we need to look at our homes and our thinking before wecry out in rage and protest against the government and security forces.

Last night you had emotional and angry Mumbai mobs screaming out anti Pakistani slogans. That is the beginning of terrorism. Have we all gone mad? What does the normal Pakistani family who is probably intheir own way praying for the Mumbai victims have anything to do with this? This is the quintessential problem that we are facing. When will we realize that by blaming each other the problem will only intensify.

The Hindus destroyed the Babri masjid. The Muslims blew up a Hindu coach. The Hindus killed a city full of Muslims. Wave after wave of madness. Stop! How long can we go on like this? An eye for an eye has never been the answer and it should not take us a thousand years to accept the truth of this statement.

You had Raj Thakare chasing out the north Indians and Biharis from Maharashtra. Over three hundred North Indians of the NSG saved his beloved Marathi manoos. Where was Bal Thakare then? Forget about this one man, where were the rest of our cosmopolitan Mumbaikers who let this man get away with what he did.. Where were the progressive and peaceful Hindu leaders when churches burnt in Orissa and Karnataka? We should all hang our heads in shame.

In another 60 years we'll have Bihari terrorists attacking Maharashtra and Maharashtrian terrorist retaliating. Next we'll have border security squadrons for our state borders. Don't smile skeptically. TheIndia-Pakistan feud had also started off in 1947 with Muslims being chased out of Delhi and Hindus being chased out of Lahore. Look where it stands now.

Today you have every news channel proudly acclaiming the army, NSG andMarine commandos as heroes. People in Mumbai are running out on thestreets to congratulate them. These heroes weren't born today. They have been here all this while. Where were these people of India, theMedia, when the IAS used their Machiavellian minds to reduce the salaries of all the Defence Forces. Where were these people when the corporate world squabbled over a few hundred rupees rise in the salaries of these men who always risk their lives to keep us safe? I could not see the bureaucracy putting their life on the line to save hostages in the Trident. I did not see the corporate world dying at the border during the Kargil war. And I did not see Indian citizens who today call these soldiers heroes defending them when they needed us the most.

You want to know what the problem with India is? We're cowards. We don't think as a single nation and we can't stand up for what's right.

I'll give you a small and perfect example of what is wrong with us. We all complain about this country's dirty roads. We love holidaying in London's spick and span streets. The most educated of us are yet to hesitate while throwing a sweet wrapper or Lays packet on the street. Or we'll throw it in an already existing dump on the street. We can't even wait till we come across a dustbin. This is what is wrong with us.

We have enough and more to say about Manmohan Singh and Advani and every other useless politician and rightly so. But the fact is that in all honesty we couldn't care less. The best of us don't vote, don't contest in elections and don't even help out N.G.O.s When we can't do anything for our country how dare we, I repeat, how dare we expect anyone else to do anything.

We can go on talking about stepping up security, straightening out our coast guards and eradicating terrorism. But the problem lies not in our security system but in us. It lies in our madrassas, in our temples, in our schools in our homes and in our minds. And until we realize our role, until we open our eyes to this truth, not a thing will change.

Everyone talks about this new India, a shining progressive and youngIndia. Well it's time for Young, New and Shining India to prove herself. Stand up and prove your worth. This so- called liberal and progressive thinking generation needs to root out those weeds that grow in the oldest corners our gardens. We need to start thinking and start talking. Talking to ourselves and to others. We need to start doing. This has to be a national youth movement. We have to make it the beginning of a revolution. Every historic movement starts like this. Vague, uncertain and hesitant but moving towards a common calling motivated by the same inspiration and dream. This is our chance.

Don't tell me that we won't be able to reach out to the people who need to hear what we have to say. These people live among us. There is no limit to what people can achieve when they set out to do something.You are talking about a country whose founding father won a war without raising a weapon. Who have lived on stories of Subhash Chandra Bose calling out for blood and promising freedom. Well we've bled. Now it's time to get our freedom. Freedom from our own mindsets. Freedom from shackles we've placed on ourselves.

These last two days have been the worst attack that India has ever dealt with. If this alarm wasn't loud enough, no alarm will ever wakeus up.How many more people have to die before we respond to India's desperate plea for help?

----

Thank you Payoshi. I needed this wake-up call.

Escape...

When every additional moment on that back supporting grey cushioned chair becomes another eternity on a gas burner, stand up and escape. Look for a place on the internet, walk up to your colleague and ask him where to go. He will look at you incredulously, but you'll have to convince him on the gravity of the situation. Find out about that place, how is it, and how to go?

Book tickets. Yes, you would have got them a lot cheaper if you had taken time and planned it out. But think about the best moments of your life, and tell me how many of them had you factored in advance.

Having decided where and how, pack your bag. And keep it light. [But on a friendly note, do keep a sunscreen if you intend to go follow the sun, scaling skin is not a souvenir that you want from the trip].

And then go.

It only works this way, you act on a whim. And trust me it works; you realize that there is atleast one point worth being, that inspite of everything that goes wrong like a toppling queue of dominoes, this is not too much of a bad place. I did.

Love, Lust and Humanity...

Yes, weird to start a 2008 post with, but then I don't write everyday do I? (Even though I vehemently, fervently wish that I did). So I came across this, small clip on Reuters, where a 19 year old woman had filmed the murder of her married lover by her boyfriend. And then I leaned back in my chair and thought what could have gone in the head of the three involved. What could have been going on in those Neuro synapses while they were at it.

The victim who had been chopped into little pieces, obviously would have been dead by the time the hacking started. So we can rule out his mind theatrics. Unless we believe that the brain is alive for sometime after the death, we can assume he must be thinking of the family he was leaving behind, and for the rut he had gotten into for Coelho's 11 minutes of fun. A victim of Lust.

The boyfriend, must have been acting on "Love". The victim was a 39 year old "lover" of the woman, who had met her when she was being a hostess at a night club. I can ascribe, jealousy and anger for the man, who had managed to gain access to "his" girl. And anger is a pure emotion, when it erupts as rage it can do the undoable.

But what about the girl? The 19 year old woman from a struggling family in Beijing was a college student, who must have been working on the side to make the ends meet (no pun intended here). But what drover her into the killing? Perhaps the victim never told her about his wife and family, but then jealousy could not have been the motive of the murder. She already had a boyfriend, so that implies she was not looking for a full commitment from the man. Her boyfriend was an accomplice to the crime, which also underlines that she might have discussed the victim with him. So what was it that drove her to it? And the most interesting part is why did she film it all? Did she want to watch it later? Was she not repulsed by the entire idea being carried out?

I do not have these answers. I have juxtapositions and assumptions but no firm explanation that succeeds in getting a full approval from me. But more than that I shudder at the ease with which they must have carried out the carving. The film acts as a pointer to how coldbloodedly they executed the entire thing. I have a fictitious thought tapping in my head, that perhaps this was not the first time they were doing this. That perhaps on further investigation the Police might find that they have several video tapes of earlier killings. This news might result in some files in the Missing Department of Police closing for good, and some families grieving on the dead hope that was keeping them alive. You know thoughts that come under the folder of sensationalism, because these days anything like this is possible.

And then Scorpions go on their Humanity Hour tour.

Himesh, Emraan, Ganga and the Internet

Weird title, but when I try to capture 2 distinct events separated both in space and time within a single post, jarring aberrants are wont to occur. It is one of those sudden urges to write up and put it here, and luckily unlike 99.438% of the times when I do not have a laptop switched on, this time I have no excuse to not write (err type).

On my way back home this Thursday morning, having left Gurgaon and then Delhi all before 9:00am, and witnessing mobs waiting like swarming bees for any vehicle to take them home for Deewali. [Reminder to self: write on transportation problem later] And finding the FM channels go weak as the NCR fades away, I witnessed a sigh of relief on the drivers face as we had no other option but to listen to a CD which he had. And yes, it was Himesh. The squirm switched faces, the driver was as happy as I was while listening to classics on the morning FM earlier, while all I could do was feign an understanding (and sympathetic) smile.

The same guy, while Aashiq Banaaya Aapne was playing said, 'Yeh Emraan Hashmi ki film bahut sexy hoti hain![This guy, Emraan Hashmi's films are very sexy!]' And when I refused to comment on his wonderfully intelligent observation, he added, 'Bahut sex karta hai har film mein, hai na? [He does a lot of sex in every film, isnt it?]' I knew I had to respond otherwise a few more incriminating evidence against the guy would pile up and I'll have to listen like one of those HR sessions on caring organizations. So i said, 'hmmm kismat hai [yeah, lucky guy]'. But I guess that was another spark that he was waiting for, so I had to listen about his short stature, unworthy looks, and miniscule acting talent not coming in his way to "doing sex" with actresses aplenty.

Just when I was trying hard how to bring a braking halt to this conversation, he braked the car and reached out for the window on my side. Plop, went down a one rupee coin into thw waiting waters of Ganga. Before I could ask him would it not create a jam on the narrow bridge, i saw almost every vehicle stop and repeat a routine that I have witnessed so many times before. So here was a guy, who shaked his head to Himesh's dhin-chak beats, and lupine croons, who would halt his diatribe on Emraan's unworthy sexual success, to offer his respect (ok! ok! one rupee coin) to the holy Ganges. All I could think of was sadda-India! and a smile made its way through the conflicts that were playing a little while ago within my mind.

Cut to a vastly different world, which involes the far removed America and that too interspersed with Cyberspace. Today I read about how Internet changed the love life of a guy who spotted a girl on a subway in the Big Apple. Strange was the fact that I came across this snippet on the small adspace on top of the GMAIL inbox. Apparently this guy fell in love (yes at first sight) with a lady he saw in the train while coming back from work. they both boarded and deboarded at the same stations, but because of the crowds he lost her. Unfazed our hero, set up a website, gave a short description (which is nice and can be seen here at http://www.nygirlofmydreams.com/) of the girl and the train ride, and requested the readers to pass on the information about her at his email id and phone numbers. Within a short time his inbox was jammed with mails and his cell assumed a constant ring. The bottom line, he found the girl. Read the complete story here.

What I wonder is, will something similar work here in India? I for one, would definitely like to know more about some people that stick to the mind, just after a fleeting glance.

So that was the story for this edition guys. Till my laptop manages to be switched on, while I have this next writing urge, Stay Beautiful.

Hope all of you had a lovely Deewali. To those who were with their families and those who could not, I wish you all a great year ahead.

Loos Control and Bloody Birthdays

Yes, that is not a typo-error. I actually did mean loo's control, but if sometimes omitting a punctuation here or there, makes a headline a bit more readable, I think one should have the liberty to do that. Coming back to the headline.

When I say Loo's control, I mean the control in terms of the kinesthetics that men portray when in the loo. Being sexually correct, I could also talk about women, but then I do not have the necessary wisdom to indulge in this seemingly voyeuristic expedition. And before i launch into another tangent, this post is just to put into words, the weirdest of actions people exhibit when they are at taking the natures call.

I think psychologists, or sociologists, or even anthropologists can learn a lot in the mannerisms of a person taking a leak. The actions before, while and after the sprinkle can just be unique identifiers of a persons idiosyncracies. Maybe politicians have some common pattern in the way they take a leak, or perhaps criminals could be identified by using a correlation code to match and relate the way they relieve themselves of the fluid presssures. I myself have witnessed countless approaches towards and away from the privy, come plain stupid, to some pretty ridiculous. I wont be quoting gross details here, but all you guys will know what I am talking about.

So if one fine day, you see in the crime-based hollywood thrillers, a special covert department with the NSA, that analyzes and catches serial killers basis Pee mechanics, sont be surprised. and dont be shocked if you see someone working as a Pee-do-file, he might just be not lusting after kids. He might just be collecting bloody-data on the peeculiarities of some bloody peeple.

That brings me to the bloody birthday. Why bloody? Well I had my birthday sometime in the last of the last month. As my birthdays (infact my life, and freak incidents go hand in glove) are wont to, my mobile connection went under transition at 6pm on the previous day. So yours truly had to go to the teleshop and get it in order. Somehow excusing myself from office for an hour I went to their office, only to discover that there was a long queue. While supposed to wait, I decided to roam around in the complex, and there was a Blood Donation Camp set at a corner.

And bingo! I turned myself in for blood donation. All was going well till I suddenly found 4-5 mean-looking ladies walking benevolently towards me. These aunties wanted to get their photographs taken while volunteering for the blood donation. And here was I, lying helplessly between posing faces, and smearing smiles, trapped with a nail sized needle sucking my blood, while someone behind the camera was coaxing me to face the lens. Which I did not.

Blood donation is a nobel task, and I am not saying it since I do it, but because it can give back lives to people. To see it reduced to a posed portrait is something that I do not appreciate. The trivialization of something sufficiently serious is not for me. Though I do tend to find weird humor in the gravest of situation. But come on! this was not even humorous.

You may say, I should look at the brighter side, at how they are trying to take things which people are generally scared of in a lighter vein. On their attempt to make a possibly worried person scared of seeing his blood flow through the fiber veins into a sanitised collecting-bottle more relaxed by clicking his picture. But somethings are temperamental, I guess I had my reasons for angst.

Anyway, I did manage to get my SIM restored, and later had a great sleep at night, which was possibly due to intrinsic exhaustion that sets in when the body experiences loss of vital fluids.

The point? Donate blood people, atleast onoce. It doesnt hurt that much, you get to eat apples, sip some juice, you may even get photographed (we are a photo crazy nation, more on this later) and you help save someone's life.

Stay beautiful!

Oceans...

It never ceases to surprise me! The sheer magnitude of the collective wisdom that lies between us, has always left me pleasantly wonder at the maturity that I witness while rubbing the goosebumps on my right forearm.

There are a dozen random blogs that I follow. When I say follow, I mean I check them for updates religiously, and I read each and every comment that other bloggers make. And so very often beneath the parchment of a post, I have found the most profound phrases peppered in the comments section. Words that give you a new perspective to things that you have forever known.

I have seen people share the pain, and say words which have a healing touch of their own, while all I could do was to stay tongue-tied. I have witnessed amazingly varied perspectives on psyches and life, and I have seen paradigms expressed in ways indescribable. And yet I have seen a lot of agony, so much so, that sometimes I forget to exhale. I marvel at our capacity to hurt, not only others but ourselves. And hurt in ways that no matter what, its only ourselves who can redeem us. And I question, where did the wisdom go? What becomes to the words that seemingly salvage people from self destruction? How are they lost when it comes to the redemption of the self?

And then sinks in the fact, that we are standing on the shore of an ocean of life, watching someone drown. Sometimes that someone is them, but sometimes it is us.

When Devil Tags

So first Vibhashu and then Monsieur Humbl Devil tagged me, and being averse to tags, I have taken so many days to attempt it. But being a sachcha Hindustaani, who believes in praan jaaye par shaan na jaaye, here I am.

Rules are:
1. each blogger starts with eight - ten random facts/habits about themselves...
2. people who are tagged need to write posts in their own blog about the tag and post these rules...
3. at the end of your post, you need to choose people to get tagged and list their names...(Anki didnt do it and neither am I doing this)

ONE OF YOUR SCARS, HOW DID YOU GET IT???
Stitches from surgery long back.

WHAT DO YOU WANT MORE THAN ANYTHING RIGHT NOW???
A break from this now.

WHAT DO YOU MISS???
Days spent in college, and the bike rides in Goa

WHAT IS YOUR MOST PRIZED POSSESSION???
My family

WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE SMELL???
Freshly brewed coffee, closely competing with the smell of rain on earth, and those from wet shampooed long hair.

DO YOU GET CLAUSTROPHOBIC???
Noe, abhi tak nahin.

DO YOU GET SCARED IN THE DARK???
Not unless I am sitting in a graveyard alone, :D. Sometimes though, i have been real spooked.

WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE COLOGNE / PERFUME???
Nothing ever beat the Old Spice classic for me.

COFFEE OR ENERGY DRINKS???
Coffee.

IF YOU COULD EAT ANYTHING RIGHT NOW, WHAT WOULD IT BE???
The Polo Cannelloni at Infantria, Goa.

WHO IS THE LAST PERSON WHO MADE YOU MAD???
Right now Humbl Devil :p

DO YOU SPEAK A DIFFERENT LANGUAGE???
Nope, i speak the same language as others. But metaphorically, yes.

WHAT IS THE BEST WAY TO TELL SOMEONE HOW MUCH THEY MEAN TO YOU???
Actions speak louder than words.

SAY A NUMBER FROM ONE TO A HUNDRED:
77

BLONDES OR BRUNETTES???
Depends on what lies beneath, but brunettes generally.

WHAT IS THE ONE NUMBER YOU CALL OFTEN???
1436

HAVE YOU BEEN OUT OF INDIA???
For a few seconds yes, to Pakistan.

WHERE WERE YOU BORN???
A small place called Kashipur, now in Uttarakhand.

FIRST JOB???
is often an illusion.

WHAT DO YOU GET COMPLIMENTED ABOUT MOST???
The same thing for which i am cursed most, my words.

WHAT WOULD YOU DO IF ALCOHOL BECAME ILLEGAL???
I'll drink water.

WHAT DO YOU WANT FOR YOUR BIRTHDAY???
A booker would be nice.

HOW MANY KIDS DO YOU WANT???
None.

WERE YOU NAMED AFTER ANYONE???
The sky.

DO YOU WISH ON STARS???
Sometimes.

WHICH FINGER[S] IS YOUR FAVORITE???
All of them, though i like the pinky the least because it doesnt work well on the guitar.

DO YOU LIKE YOUR HANDWRITING???
Not at all, never got good marks because of it. :D

WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE LUNCH MEAT???
Fish, but is that meat?

ANY BAD HABITS???
Brutally honest.

WHAT IS YOUR MOST EMBARRASSING CD ON THE SHELF???
No shelf these days.

IF YOU WERE ANOTHER PERSON, WOULD YOU BE FRIENDS WITH YOU???
Perhaps.

WHERE IS YOUR SECOND HOME???
These days Gurgaon.

DO YOU TRUST OTHERS EASILY???
First impressins take the decisions.

WHAT WAS YOUR FAVORITE TOY AS A CHILD???
My science kit.

HAVE YOU EVER BEEN IN A MOSH PIT???
No.

DO YOU UN-TIE YOUR SHOES WHEN YOU TAKE THEM OFF???
Mostly.

THING YOU ATE???
A half bar of Snickers

SIBLINGS???
2 younger sisters

YOU LIKE SUSHI???
Absolutely Love it.

ARE YOU TOO SHY TO ASK SOMEONE OUT???
No.


Phew! Now for the song THE END by THE DOORS.