Life's Beautiful...............

Towards a Better Tomorrow

2010-09-19T22:39:00.000-07:00

Ok, i know all of you have been wondering what i was upto in NYC. well here's the gist of it. for those who are wondering why the formal speech, it's because this was an article for a news paper and i havnt had the time to write up a new one. My blog looked pretty morose since i havn't been paying attention to it, so i had to give in under its accusing stare......
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“Man himself has caused the degradation of the royal lineage of his own personality. The result has been the deterioration of a humanity that has lost his way. In general terms, this is the situation that the human being suffers in the society that he, himself, has constructed. Your mission, under the Universal Parliament, united in your intention, desire, and actions, is to restore the highest values, which have been torn away from the human being by the human being himself.” -Fernando Rielo Pardal,Founder Idente Youth
That was the vision of Fernando Rielo, the founder of the World Youth Parliament(WYP). He saw in the youth, what most others never saw, hope for a better future, a new civilization built of their own hopes and dreams, not on the ruins of an older civilization.
When I first signed up for the WYP I wasn’t quite sure what to expect. The experience I’ve brought back with me is something I wouldn’t exchange for anything in the world.
But first, a brief history. The World Youth Parliament was born in 1981, following a lecture given by Fernando Rielo (1923-2004) in the United Nations Headquarters, New York. On that occasion, he spoke of the WYP as the “United Nations of Youth”. He dreamed that the voice of young people, free from prejudices and interests, could be heard around the world and make a decisive contribution on fundamental questions of social and spiritual life.
It was this dream that inspired youth from all over the world to take up the project of drafting a Magna Carta of Values for a New Civilization. This was a chance for us, as youth, to prove that we aren’t the self-obsessed, materialistic generation that people have labelled us. All of us, have at some point of time, heard our elders bemoaning that the current generation has lost all sense of morals and has absolutely no values. Young people have always been labelled as restless and impetuous. Most of the world tried convincing us that restlessness is evil. What they never realised, is that it is this very restlessness that can bring about change.
Fernando Rielo realised this, which is why he created the WYP as a forum for young people to come together. He believed that young people haven’t been “paralyzed” by educational, social and cultural prejudices which haunt the older generations. The lack of prejudice, coupled with an inherent goodness that is present in every one of us, can steer us to developing a world without economic, social or educational boundaries. A world where each person’s dignity is respected.
Critics and cynics might say that such lofty ideals aren’t practical. That these are only dreams, that we are still too young to understand what the world is; but the WYP has strengthened my belief that such a world is possible.
The entire experience at the WYP is too incredible to put into words. It gave me a platform to interact with youth from all over the world. And somewhere in the midst of all the cultural exchanges, I realised that all of us, no matter from which part of the world we were, wanted a world where all can live in harmony, irrespective of nationality, religion or creed.

The WYP session lasted from the 10th to the 13th of August 2010. On the first day, we were briefed about the draft of the Magna Carta which had been prepared at the previous session in Rome, 2009. During the course of the past year, this draft was studied by youth from all over the world and various amendments were proposed. These amendments were put forward for approval at the WYP 2010. The sessions of the WYP were held at the St. John’s University, Queens, NY. This is where we first met up with all the delegates. There were delegates from 20 countries present including Ghana, Ivory Coast, Togo, Ecuador, Mexico, Germany, etc.
“The Magna Carta of Values for a New Civilization”, as the name implies are a set of values that have been drawn up by the youth, for the youth. This is our way of saying that we haven’t forgotten how to be human, that we will work for a better world. The uniqueness of this Carta is that it isn’t something that was thrown at us. We weren’t told to follow it. It is OUR decision to apply these values in our lives. The Carta is divided into ten sections, dealing with values relating to the person open to transcendence, family, interpersonal relationships, politics, society, work, economic relations, educational relations, communication networks and the environment.
On the second day, we were divided into various committees, one for each section to debate on the amendments proposed and to approve of the ones which needed a change. I was in the committee for economic relations. We had a pretty intense debate between us about what defines economic relations and which direction we need to follow. There were various opinions regarding the excesses of consumerism and how to reduce inequality among countries and people. The second session that day was the Parliament. All the delegates assembled in a common venue to vote on the amendments proposed. A two-thirds majority led to the approval of the amendments. There were quite a few exciting moments where people had different opinions about the amendments. After a long session that lasted over 3 hours, the final draft of the Magna Carta was completed. It was then up to the scientific committee who worked overnight to prepare the final version according to the format.
August 13th 2010 is a Red letter day for everyone who attended the conference. It was on this day that we made our way to United Nations Headquarters in New York to present our Magna Carta to the world. It was in the UN that the WYP was born, and nearly 30 years later, the dream finally bore fruit. In the exact place where Fernando Rielo gave his speech, the Magna Carta was presented to the world. All the delegates could barely control their excitement and happiness. The dream of so many had finally become a reality. It was a very happy bunch of delegates who returned back to the university, later that evening. To actually participate in a session at the UN is not something everyone can claim to have done, but we can.
The Magna Carta of values for a New Civilization has finally been completed. But for us, our work is just beginning. The preamble of the charter states,
“After two years of intense work on the topic, "Towards a Magna Carta of Values for a New
Civilization," we, youth from 20 countries who constitute the World Youth Parliament, present our
findings by means of this document to make our voice heard, as well as to make known our personal
commitment to living out these values that we consider to be fundamental for building a new civilization, a
new civilization which responds to our highest aspirations and which reflects in its every structure the
great dignity of human beings, as well as their potential for creating and restoring reality.”
The real work is just beginning and we know that it has to start with us. We cannot expect the rest of the world to embrace these values until we first live it ourselves. It was with the resolution to begin the change with ourselves that all of us returned back to our respective countries.
The WYP gave me an opportunity to take part in something much bigger than myself. I’ve noticed around me a lot of young people who wish to give back to society, who desire to make a change. We all believe that India has a lot of potential; its diversity is its biggest asset. It should make us stronger as a country and that is what we should work for. The dream, first of a better India and then of a better World.
Parting from all the new friends I made in New York wasn’t easy but we all knew that we shared a dream that will bind us together. Everyone keeps in touch through the internet where we discuss method to spread the world.
One man’s belief has given the youth a direction. Let’s hope that it spreads all over the world.

Unitedly Diverse

2010-05-12T23:34:00.001-07:00

Congrats David Cameron!! And Nick Clegg for making it happen. Time for some changes in good ol' Britain. I didn’t really follow the elections much, but thanks to twitter and a few political maniacs I follow, I pretty much got the gist. But this post isn’t about the British elections. No, it’s about a muddled up country which is known as the largest democracy in the world.
The recent elections in the UK and the US elections last year got me thinking on the system in India. Most countries have a two party system with third parties coming in to tip the balance. India used to have two major parties, right now new parties keep forming every day. With no clear majority, most govts in recent years are coalitions and even after forming the govt, allegiances keep shifting due to differing opinions. The adage “too many cooks spoil the broth” truly applies to India. The “cooks” have only succeeded in creating a hotchpotch, nothing else. No wonder we’re in such a mess.
Kids in school have always been taught that India is living proof of “unity in diversity”. But reality speaks otherwise. Look closely and you’ll see that the truth is the opposite; we are actually “diverse in our unity”. The very diversity that we flout is what makes it impossible for us to be united. The average Indian is a very confused soul. He is told that his first loyalty is to his country, but the poor guy lives in a community, which is in a state which is in the country. Add to that his religion and caste, and he’s stuck. He interacts more with the people of his community than with those who run the country. If he tries to stay out of it saying he’s an Indian first, people around will call him a coward (and trust me, nothing riles an Indian more than when someone calls him gutless, we’re a highly emotional & violent lot). Consequently, he gets dragged into narrow confines of caste, religion or state. Is this the unity we crave?
India united is, for me at least, an unrealistic vision. Why? Because we aren’t ready to let go of those notions that have been drilled into our psyche. Which leads to an even more interesting question, can India exist as a single country? We’ve been steadily disintegrating into states. It began with India and Pakistan, thanks to religion. Then we had Uttaranchal, Jharkhand and Chhattisgarh, courtesy of a difference in class. In the past few years we have the demands for Gorkhaland and Telangana. India, like the USA aimed to be a single entity comprising of a confederation of states. In case of the US, they’re at least “united”. Can’t really say that for India now can we?
In a lighter vein,here's something special about us Indians, Indians hate Indians. The people from the south find north Indians too loud and brash, the "northies" think every south Indian is from madras and loves eating idlis,northies are always picking a fight, southies think they are way too smart just because their brains work faster than a calculator. we call the indians from the north west "chinkis" and then we say we're not racial!! And thanks to fairness creams (for both men and women) the southerners want to be as fair as those up north, just to balance the equation and prove we aren't Africans.
I’m sure there’s a bunch of us out there who really wish Indians would rise above those narrow walls confining us, but then let’s face it, I don't see it happening. It’s not impossible, but it requires a lot of patience and that none of us have. We’ll just have to while away time lamenting.

The Power of the Idiot Box

2010-03-22T02:52:00.000-07:00

I’d turned on the telly a few days ago to watch the news and what do I see? “BREAKING NEWS: Anandi in critical condition!!” now quite obviously, I began wondering who’s Anandi. I watch the news everyday so I should have been aware of a person named thus but I hadn’t the slightest clue. So who is Anandi? Anandi is the protagonist in the daily soap Balika Vadhu.
So there you go, a fictional character in a soap about child marriage in the present day merits a place in the headlines. Not only that there are shots of the general public offering pujas for the speedy recovery and constant updates on public sentiment. That made me wonder, just how much has Indian television affected the public??
Television has been around in India since the 70s, but telly soaps started around 1984-85 with Hum Log. When Hum Log was aired for the first time, people sat glued to their televisions sharing the life of the characters. Hum Log was the first serial which discussed issues like family planning and the role of women in society. This was followed by Buniyaad which was based on the Partition. Both these soaps dealt with issues relevant to their times and I certainly recommend them to people who haven’t heard about them. This was followed by the mythological series of the Mahabharata and the Ramayana and that’s where the craziness begins. I’m not talking about the series but its affect on the people. Such was the psychological impact on the Indian public that people would hurry up with their chores to land in front of the telly on time. Not only that, they’d also keep the aarti thalis and flowers ready because, according to them, they weren’t just watching a serial, they truly believed that their God was paying them a “Darshan”. Such was the gullibility of the Indian public. The actors in the serials were considered gods and treated as such by the public.
Fast forward to more recent times, to the advent of the K-serials and those of its ilk. A population of 400 million viewers were then offered a seemingly incessant list of formula tested soaps of holier-than-thou women with huge red bindis, vermilion smeared heads, the ever present mangalsutras and the entire get up. On the other hand we have the vamps, characterised with the typical over the top make up and a perpetual evil gleam in their eyes. Don't you ever wonder?? We can make out at one glance that she’s a vamp but can the protagonist??? Oh no! She’s a naive, innocent bahu who would trust every Tom, Dick and Harry.
The makers of such soaps know very well how to play with the mind of the Indian public. Don't you ever wonder, the women dress up as if for a wedding just to go cook breakfast in the kitchen in spite of all the servants around. Who dress up to slog in a kitchen???? It’s irrational!!!
Oh and just for the record, according to Indian television, Indian medical science is sooo advanced that it leaves the rest of the world behind. Seriously, no kidding. People come out of comas at just the right time to save the day for the innocent victim, incurable diseases can be cured and who can forget the plastic surgery. The marvels of Indian medicine, not only do people get a new face, they also get a new height, weight and build, in short, the entire package. And last but not the least, yes people can come back from the dead.
The effect of the soaps is clearly seen by the example of “Tulsi” of Kyuki Saas Bhi Kabhi Bahu Thi. If you take a look at the martimonials in the news papers, everybody wants a bahu like Tulsi. In short what we’re told id that everyone wants a daughter in law who’s totally traditional and will uphold the family “izzat”. Someone who will patiently bear all suffering and never speak out.
But moving on to a more serious issue, I feel Indian soaps are actually pushing us down the social ladder instead of up. They encourage the image of an aadarsh bahu and pativrata patni who believes her biggest purpose in life is to serve her family. I don't say it’s wrong but the image of the modern Indian woman is seriously tarnished because the modern woman is shown as someone who puts her career before her family and is thus in the wrong. The patriarchal society still seems to have an upper hand. So while soaps are all about women power, it still seems unable to accept the modern tag.
Unfortunately, Indian soaps are created to cater to the larger audience, so until they evolve, I think I’ll stick to American television [yea, yea I know what you’re thinking, ruddy NRI]

Rumour Has It...

2009-12-07T22:22:00.000-08:00

this was my entry for a short story competition a couple of weeks ago. if you ask me i'd say it was just an experiment gone awry. so i'll let you judge, i'll give you a warning though, its not much of a story. so please be honest with your comments coz i really cant figure out why this story won the second place, i was just having some fun. the topic was 'rumour has it'. now what sort of a story can you come up with other than a high school story of gossip????

“Rumour has it that all dogs are cats, and all cats are dogs”, said Nosy Parker. Nosy and I had just settled down on the couch for a cup of tea, a routine event in our ‘mundane’ lives. Nosy’s statement might seem a little odd to the rest of the world, but if you live in Quipsville, it doesn’t seem odd at all.
Nosy works at the local rumour mill. The job’s a bore, so the lads at the mill try to liven things up by exchanging tit-bits about the town. Truth be told, the lads at the mill are the only reliable source of information as far as this town is concerned. So if Nosy says all dogs are cats and all cats dogs, there must be some truth in it. I find those little chats with Nosy a nice way to unwind at the end of the day. I work at Barney’s vineyard, and maintaining that grapevine isn’t a piece of cake.
Getting back to cats and dogs, Nosy said that he’d gone to attend the First Annual Canine-Feline Convention a couple of days ago. Apparently the growing disregard for pets by humans has forced dogs and cats to join hands and make a united stand. Both parties agreed that it was high time they stopped bickering amongst themselves. In the words of Nosy, “There will soon be a day when the cat barks and the dog mews, and together they’ll raise a cacophony that will burst the eardrums of every evil human.”
That’s Quipsville for you. This isn’t an ordinary town for sure. There’s a certain quaint charm that’s unique to it. I happened to first pass through this town eight years ago. I was on a trip across the country. I didn’t intend on staying here long, but Quipsville grows on you. I never left.
As Nosy goes on with his stories, I stare out of the window. Little Joey is still patiently waiting for the molehill to turn into a mountain.
Like I said, in Quipsville, everything is possible......

Life Goes On....

2009-12-01T22:34:00.000-08:00

I always find it fascinating that if you let your mind wander off on its own for a while, it comes up with some pretty interesting thoughts. Like the other day in class, just to keep us busy, the lecturer asked us to suggest ideas for table topics. I wasn’t really paying attention to what was going on but then I heard one of my friends suggesting, “The Best Teacher You Ever Had”, and that set me thinking. Now that I’m almost at the end of my college life, who was my best teacher ever????
I could say the first one I ever had back in Kindergarten. She was a darling (well she is now, she frightened me back then). Or maybe the English teacher back in sixth grade, or the physics lecturer in the ninth, they were all really good but no, not them. They were all great teachers, and while they all imparted knowledge, I realised that none of them could pass on wisdom. Relax, I’m not talking about the wisdom of the ancients, just the really important things, like how to make everyday more meaningful. That’s when I realised that Life is the best teacher I’ve ever had, no kidding. Sure I’ve bickered about how my life sucks, I’m just human, but when I look at the bigger picture, I can’t quite find the words to explain it.
Every second of the last 20 or so years has taught me something (okay the first 5 years are kind of sketchy but I wouldn’t have gotten thus for if I hadn’t learnt right?). Like those times when mum and dad used to scold me and I hated them for it, now I realise it was just to teach me right from wrong. Life’s a harsh teacher, I guess she knows we aren’t going to listen if she says it sweetly so she just skips the niceties and makes us learn the hard way. I haven’t been around that long yet so my education’s far from complete, but I’ve learnt some pretty important stuff so far...
I’ve learnt not to regret any decision I’ve made. I’ll only be losing precious time in self pity and it’s not worth it. I know it sounds clichéd but it’s true. You can’t change the past but you can learn from it. I’ve learnt that the people who matter to me won’t always be around. People keep walking in and out of our lives; only their footprints remain, reminding us of the moments we shared, making us smile when we are down. I’ve learnt that no matter how much the world tries to crush me down, I lose only when I give up on myself. And no matter how tired I am, if I search my soul deep enough, I’ll always find a reason to go on. You know how sometimes it seems like you can’t live without someone? Not true, you can. Sure it hurts worse than hell, and the memories can torment you for a really long time, but once you accept it and stop trying to run away from it, you begin to notice what you’ve missed. To quote another cliché, “Don't cry because it’s over, smile because it happened”.
And for those who keep telling you that time is the best healer, well I doubt those guys ever had to experience anything that they think “time” can heal, because if you asked me, I’d say time doesn’t heal, it just kind of numbs the pain so that its more bearable, just enough so that we can learn to move on.
According to me, the most important lesson that life’s taught me is that every moment should be savoured, the good ones and the bad. You never know what going to be thrown your way, that’s why I’ve learnt to cherish those moments spent with the people in my life, because I’ll never know when I get to see them again. Some people might think I’m paranoid, but I really don't care, I want to make the best of what I’ve got. And to all those friends of mine from school, I don't know if I’ll ever see them again but I know I’m not going to forget them. I keep shifting cities every few years and saying goodbye to the people I know isn’t easy, I’ve done it thrice so far and I haven’t gotten used to it, don't think I ever will. But though it’s always hard initially, I’ve learnt that life moves on and teaches us to move along with her. That’s the beauty of it, she doesn’t leave anyone behind, it’s just that sometimes we’re too stubborn to listen. Good thing she doesn’t give up on us though. She’ll just keep prodding and gently coaxing us until we move on. Well, she isn’t gentle always, she does seem like Cruella sometimes ;-)
I guess that’s what makes her such a good teacher, and that might just be the reason that life’s beautiful..............................................
“There are two ways to live your life; one is as though nothing is a miracle, the other is as though everything is a miracle.” – Albert Einstein
P.S: for those of you who are wondering why I’ve referred to life as a ‘she’ well, not that I’m a hardcore feminist but women are the ones who bear life right? ;-)

Religion-a must?????

2009-08-14T00:04:00.000-07:00

Lets be frank, many of you will be wondering what prompted ME to write on such a topic. O don't worry, I’m not going through a crisis of faith or anything of that sort. Nor am i looking for divine intervention to show me the way. This piece is purely out of scholarly interest as i had to speak on this topic at a debate. Psst, don't tell the nuns, for all i know they might make me sit for cathechism remedials after class ;-)
It is often claimed by many people, that man cannot do without some kind of religion, because he is too weak to survive on his own. This, perhaps, is the reason that many religious theists find it incredulous that a person can not only live, but actually enjoy his life without religion. Lets call these guys Orthodox Religious or OR for short. So if you are an indian who’s decided to become an atheist or an agnostic, you need to watch out for the ORs.
First things first. Religion, for a majority of us starts at birth. You are taught the scriptures and rules of the religion your parents follow. And then you spend the rest of your life following it.
WHY??
Is it because you actually believe what is taught or are you just cozy in your comfort zone? Hmm, its usually the latter isn’t it? Let sleeping lions lie. But why stop those who wish to take a different path?
Some of the arguments put forward by the ORs are:
1. Religion is necessary for life to have meaning: Not true. For life to have meaning, you need to have something worth valuing. How much you value a person or a relationship depends on the choices you make. Nothing can teach you the value of a person.
2. Morals can only be taught by religion: Really?? In that case, Hitler, Bin Laden and Khomeni should be saints don't you think? As kids we’re all taught to differentiate right from wrong. Its our decision after that. For all you know, religion can give quite a warped sense of right and wrong.
The list of arguements is endless. But no one can deny the fact that religion is a bone of contention the world over. More so in a ‘secular’ country like India. How can you justify religion when it drives people to draw blood? And yet the truth is that most people are unaware of the basic essence of the faith they follow. All religions condemn killing, so holy wars and crusades don't get you to heaven. Every religion seems convinced that it is the original word of god and all other religions are only fit to be exterminated. i’m surprised this hasn’t caused a full scale war yet.
So, finally, do we need Religion? If you ask me, i’d say its a matter of personal choice. Just because a person decides s/he doesn’t need religion, it doesn’t mean that the person is evil and his/her soul is condemned to eternal damnation. Whats more important? That a person has a religion to fill into a government form? Or is it more important that he/she is a decent human being?
For me, thats what matters most, that you are a good human being. Everything else is secondary. I dont care if you're a christian, a hindu or a muslim. As long as you know how to treat a fellow human, i'd be proud to call you my friend. And a line from Tagore rings loud in my ears, maybe because its been drilled in over the ears as a daily prayer. Most people just recite the words without meaning it, but just take a minute and it'll make sense.
'where the world has not been broken up;
into fragmenby narrow domestic walls;
into that heaven of freedom my father,
let my country awake.'

Genius Murdered....

2009-05-23T01:07:00.001-07:00

Now that exam season is over, it’s time for results. Suddenly every parent whose child is in the 10th or 12th is having anxiety attacks and insomnia. For all those poor souls who have just completed their 10th, you have my sympathies. No really, all you poor devils are in a total quandary aren’t you? I’m yet to meet a tenth grader who has made up his/her mind on which stream they want to pursue. Add to that the age old Indian concept, “science is what you should take!!, commerce is for average students!! Arts???? That’s for losers who just want a degree, not smart kids like you!!”
If I ever manage to find the Einstein who came up with that theory, I’d love to siphon their brains through their nostrils, fry it till its burnt( yeah, actual bheja-fry) and blast it off to space!!! No, don't worry, I’m not a deranged psychopath, just another frustrated kid.
I admit I’m lucky my parents don't follow that ancient ideology but I still have friends and family who’ve been bound in the chains of yore. And it isn’t really fair is it?
Unfortunately, the education system in our country is such that intelligence is measured by the amount of facts you can cram into a bundle of nerve cells that rest a foot above your body. Every parent wants their kid to be the first in everything. But you’re not going to have a first unless there are people behind right? Ok that’s not what I meant. What I’m actually trying to say is, why not appreciate a kid for what he/she is? Why is art or sport or dance just a hobby? Someone who aces in sports may be average in class but so what? Isn’t the fact that he’s better at something other than studies count? Why is it so difficult for an Indian parent to accept musical genius over intellectual prowess? And I’m talking about Indians only because, face it, we have a major problem here and I’m sure all of us have seen this happen at some time or the other.
The burden of expectations that parents place on their kids has led to a generation that doesn’t know how to accept defeat gracefully. The fear of losing has led to two types of kids, the aggressive ones who can’t take defeat and those who give up with just one failure. Parental pressure forces many kids to take up careers that hold absolutely no charm for them. In the end, they either drop out, give lack lustre performances or in extreme cases (which have become quite regular these days) end their lives. Those who get through with it aren’t happy either.
For those who’ve been through it, you can’t change the past. But what you can do is make sure that you don't commit the same crime your parents did in the future. I know “crime” is a strong word. In the end our parents just want what’s best for us. But if suppressing a kid's natural ability isn’t a crime, then I don't know what is.
It’s high time we woke up to the fact that genius doesn’t have to be just intellectual. We always say each child is special, well, it’s time we believed it too. There was a time when being left handed was considered unnatural, now we know that a left hander is just as good as a right hander, sometimes better. If we could get past that, then this shouldn’t be that difficult should it?
Its common knowledge that Einstein and Edison were duds in school. They dropped out of school and yet, today we’re studying facts that the drop outs found out. We try to learn from others mistakes, so why are we missing the point here? Wake up people, can’t you hear the siren??

Books!!!!

2009-05-18T00:32:00.000-07:00

There’s nothing much for me to do now that I’m home. My perpetual complain is that I’m bored. Mum gets really irritated every time I say that, so she decided the best way to keep me occupied was ‘chores”. Now household chores are one of the things about home that I do not miss. Not that I’m lazy, I just don't like it ;-) my task this morning was to clean out the bookshelf.

Now some of you may think it’s weird but I found this far more appealing than chopping veggies. Finally I get a job I don't mind doing. Why? Simple, I love books.

My love affair with books started when I was about 4 I think. Reading is more than a hobby to me; it’s something I’m totally involved in. Music and photography are still battling it out for a second place. Give me a good book and I’m totally oblivious to everything around me. Hey don't blame me, blame my parents. They’re both voracious readers and have amassed an amazing collection of books over the years. Yet both of them claim I’m the limit ;-) you could hurl all sorts of abuses at me and I wouldn’t hear a thing.

Coming back to the bookshelf, it took quite a while rearranging it according to authors and genres. The collection ranges from fiction to thrillers to self help books. You name it we’ve got it. I’ve often told mum that she might as well open up a library but let’s just say that my parents are pretty possessive about the books, after all it’s taken them years to collect and they’re proud of it. Nothing pisses them off more than someone not returning or losing one of their books.

What upsets me now is that most people I know have never experienced the joy of reading. Reading a book requires tedious effort which they feel is a waste of time. And I feel sorry for them. Because they’ll never know what it’s like to lose yourself in another world. Because their imagination is limited. And it’s not just about what you read. Books are a trip down memory lane at times. The fairy tales you read as kids, then moving on to Enid Blyton, Hardy Boys, Nancy Drew until you reach Sidney Sheldon, Archer, Deaver etc. Each set reminds me of different phases of my life. I’m sure there was a time when each of us wanted to be a character we read about. I still remember mine was to be a detective, thanks to good ol’ Sherlock Holmes. It’s a pity that soo many people are missing out on this.

A lot of us still read, but the numbers seem to be dwindling. Unfortunately, even those of us who like reading barely get the time for it. I know, because it’s the same with me. For a person who used to average at least one medium sized novel per week, I now manage only about one or two per month. I’m pretty sure I’ve read somewhere around 400 books so far if you include the ones I read as a kid;-) And till date no two books I’ve read have ever been alike, that’s the beauty of it.

I still haven’t read through my parents’ collection, though of late I’m the one who’s been adding to it. That’s just temporary mind you, I intend to build my own collection but since I’m still moving all over the place, I’ve loaned them out to my parents ;-) As for reading though my parents entire collection, that’s not going to happen. Not because it’s too vast but because our tastes differ but that can’t be helped ;-)

I could go on and on about books but that might just bore you so I won’t ;-)

So, when was the last time you read a book?

A Night at the Station

2009-05-09T08:12:00.000-07:00

Ok guys after so many of you complained about my stories being too grim, i've made a desperate attempt to try something different. So please be honest with your comments. My mums already told me its boring straight on my face. And no she hasnt read my previous stories. If she does she'll be convinced i need help. Mothers tend to over react to such situations. A certain friend of mine beat me up pretty badly for killing off an entire family in the last story. The scars from the clawing are a grim reminder of my fate if i kill any more characters. So i earnestly request her to please de-claw herself before reading the story.
And yes, the idea for this one was not mine alone. Niyati was the one who got the idea and we worked on it together. Now i dont have the original script so had to improvise so in case i left out anything, sorry gal....

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Travelling alone by train can be boring, and its worse when the journeys long. Like last week. I had to attend a friend’s wedding, yup another one bites the dust that was the song on my mind all the way. But hey, I wish the guy well. Wait a minute, didn’t tell you who I am did I? Name’s Michael Kane, 5’10’’, medium build, late twenties, got me? Good....
So there I was on the train, overnight journey and boy was I tired. The meeting in office didn’t go that well. All I wanted was some shut eye but sleep eluded me. The train pulled up at some remote station somewhere round 2 am. Since it didn’t look like we were going to move for a while, thought I’d stretch my legs for a bit. I’m sea sick so walking on a moving train makes me rail sick I guess. I had to take a leak so I went in search of the washroom. Curse my luck, when I got out I was just in time to see the train disappearing over the bend. I checked the schedule; the next train was at 6. Had to wake the station master to inform him about my luggage. That done I had 4 hours to kill. And not a soul awake.........
With nothing better to do, thought I’d take a nap on a bench. Was just about to settle on one when someone startled me.
“Dude, that’s my bench!”
A quick glance around revealed no one, just a stray black dog who seemed unperturbed by any voice. Logic told me my tired mind was imagining things. I needed sleep.
“You deaf?” that voice again. Now I was beginning to get spooked.
“Who’s there?” I asked
“Don’t tell me you’re blind too. Look around dufus who do you see?”
“No one. Just a dog.”
“Just a dog? Excuse me!!”
“You’re telling me you’re a dog? Hog wash!! Dogs can’t talk!!”
“ True, most dogs can’t talk. I can though”
You must be thinking I’m nuts. I thought so too. But I was tired and convinced I was imagining things. A talking dog?!! That’s rubbish. I just needed sleep. I hear voices and I see a black Labrador. So I make a crazy assumption that the dog can talk.
“What’s with the incredulous look on your face?” asked the lab.
“I ‘m talking to a dog. You think I should be excited about it?”
“Ah! Humans....” sighed the lab. “You talk to a bit of plastic, watch glass screens and yet rubbish the thought of a talking dog. Didn’t you watch cartoons? Don't the animals speak there? Anyhow, what’s your name?”
“Mi...Michael” The hesitation was for fear of going crazy. “What’s yours?”
“The name’s Bond. James Bond”
Yea right, a dog named Bond. By now I was convinced I had to see a shrink ASAP.
“So this is your bench?” I ask Bond.
“Just my favourite seat Michael. You hungry?”
“Umm, yea a little”. A little was an understatement. I hadn’t had anything since lunch so I was famished. But having scraps from the garbage can wasn’t my idea of a meal.
Bond clapped twice, as if to summon someone. A genie appearing wouldn’t have surprised me now but I was expecting too much. A rat came scampering out of a hole in the wall and bowed before the dog!!
“At your service sire!” squeaked the rat.
Bond turned to me.” Michael, meet Max, better known as the rat that inspired the movie Ratatouille. He was a student of the renowned chef Sarla Balal. He’s worked with Ranjheev Kapoor as well. Max, Michael’s our guest today. Why don't you cook him something special?”
“Would you like some lasagne?” squeaked Max
Too stunned to reply, I just nodded yes. First a talking dog, now a rat that cooks. Maybe my mother was right. I’m getting too involved in my work. How else do you explain it? Garfield’s just a comic strip right? Max was off to cook. Bond was staring at me intently. And that was giving me the jitters.
“What?” I asked him.
“Oh, nothing. So Michael, what do you do?” This was one inquisitive dog.
“I’m a journalist. I work for The Times.” Feeling bolder now, I asked Bond, “If you guys can speak, then why not do it every time?”
“Some things in life are not meant to be known my friend”, said Bond with a very regal air. I was about to pester him further when out came Max followed by a lively bunch of rats carrying a platter of mouth-watering dishes. Corn soup for starters, followed by lasagne. And to finish it off, a delectable black forest cake. I won’t lie. Rats may have cooked it but it felt like heaven.
“Wow Max! That was totally out of this world” I gushed like an awe struck ten-year-old.
“Now that we’re watered and fed, it’s time for some entertainment”, declared Bond and led me to an alley behind the station. The place looked packed as if for a concert. From what the cat sitting next to me told me (yes, now a talking cat), the Pussycat Dolls were going to play today. Oh and this group had real pussycats no humans.
The concert was awesome but by now I was really tired. Just as I was about to doze off on my seat, Bond nudges me awake and rushes me back to the station.
“Hurry!! Its 6 already. You’ll miss the next train!!” Bond and Max made sure I was in the train. Just as it started moving Max scrambled atop Bonds head and thrust a packet into my hand. “It’s the black forest cake. There was some remaining. Thought you’d want some in case you get hungry again”, said Max. “Thanks Max”, was all I could manage. I soon drifted off to sleep thanks to my weariness. By the time I woke up. The train had reached my station. On checking I found my luggage intact. I realized I’d most probably dreamed up the whole episode. I was on the same train after all so there was no way I’d missed my train. I gathered up my luggage and decided to set out. And that’s when I found the packet containing the black forest cake.........

Back To Pavilion

2009-05-02T07:00:00.000-07:00

IPL season isn’t it? I’m not much of a cricket fan but T20 I do follow. I’m just hoping the royals buck up soon or I’ll have to hide my head in the sand when I meet a few people after the seasons done;-) but that’s not what this post is all about. Right now I’m back to pavilion.......back home that is;-)
What’s it like coming home after a year???? I’m having a nice time I’d say. Like the last three years, this year was no exception, my flight was delayed by an hour, which is why mum and dad didn’t bother setting out early from home to pick me up. Off from the airport I thought I’d take a much needed nap on the 2 hour drive home to Sohar........
Now I’m sure most of you have never heard of this place. Trust me it’s practically Timbuktu, Google it, I’m not going to bother explaining where it’s located. Suffice to say it’s somewhere between Muscat and Dubai (there’s no way you don't know where’s Dubai). Where was I? Oh yes that nap.....it never happened. Why? Because I’m not used to a car that glides over a very smooth road at 120km/h..... I seem to have grown rather attached to the potholed, winding roads of Mangalore. Sleep on such a smooth road is a farfetched dream.......
So we finally reach home!!!!! Cramped legs, jammed back and all..... And I’m lost...... no kidding, long absence from home + a mum with a lot of free time on her hands = one lost kid whose home on vacation. I headed for my room to change only to open the cupboard and find it wiped clean. No trace of my clothes anywhere!!!!!! Seems mum bundled off all my old clothes to charity. “Well what do I wear? Pat came the reply,” Go hunt in dads cupboard!” so I’m now forced to swim and float around in oversized tees n shorts, all the while thanking my lucky stars that you guys aren’t around to see it ;-)
That wasn’t the end of it......while I was trying to locate the stuff I needed mum casually mentioned that we had to attend two parties that evening. “Which one are you guys going for?” I asked. “Both”, said mum. Parties here don't start till about 9 or 10 in the night so they’d worked out a schedule. 9-11 at one party and the rest of the night at another. My protests of being too tired (which I was!!) went in vain. I was dragged along anyway, bleary eyed, splitting head ache and all.
The a/c’s here are a truly welcome respite from the soaring temperatures back in India, but it takes some getting used-to to the ridiculously low temperatures that people here set it at. How low???Low enough to freeze the bottle of hair oil in my room. My fogged up mind kept imagining myself in the tundras. The Irish cream and wine wasn’t helping coz the blaring cacophony they called singing was, I’m sure, way above the permissible decibel for humans....
Thanks to jet lag and no sleep for over 24 hours, I was bushed when we got home at 5.30 in the morning, IST (jet lag remember??) slept 8 hours straight.
Right now I’m busy making the house habitable according to me and messing up according to mum. The remote’s missing from its usual place, sofa cushions are thrown about, novels all over the place, chocolate wrappers everywhere..... “It’s a mess!!”, shrieks mum. “face it, the kids are home!!”, I retort ;-) the house no longer looks like a museum or ones you see on those picture perfect descriptions on the magazines.....
Now if I could only find a way to speed up the ridiculously low net speed here.....ever tried working on a speed of 40kbps?? Its hell....... I better get those dishes done before mum enters the kitchen.......
Yup I’m well and truly back to pavilion......

One Moment in Time

2009-04-17T03:12:00.000-07:00

The fast paced life we live these days doesn't seem to leave us much time to ourselves. Which is perhaps the reason why we tend to lose ourselves in the constant mess all around us. Just another face in the crowd, existing, not living. And yet harbouring the hope to break free from the monotony of life.
Which is perhaps why sitting by the river last evening, I experienced something that’s a little difficult to explain, but still worth a try.
Being a nature lover I try my best to get out of the city whenever I can. Not that Mangalore’s a big place, it's a pretty small town, but even so, it's not the kind of place where you can lose yourself to your own thoughts when you want to. I'm usually too busy with college work and projects there.
I had a small family function to attend yesterday, and the house happened to be quite close to the river. As usual I had to go through the whole ritual of meeting a zillion aunts and uncles. Anyone living in this part of the world will know what I’m talking about. Not that I mind it, it’s nice to see all of them once in a while, it just gets a little irksome at times, because they all ask the same questions over and over. After meeting the whole jingbang I realized I was jobless because this was the time the 'adults' talked and the 'children' minded their own business. Yeah I know, no matter how old I get, they'll always regard me as a kid, it’s something I’ve learnt not to argue about. Since I had nothing better to do I decided to go down to the river, thought I’d take some time off to myself.
The place was just the same, even after all these years, I remember coming here as a kid. It had been quite a while, and yet while everything around me keeps changing, somehow, this place still manages to evoke the same feelings in me. It's like taking a moment out of my life and just feeling it.
There's a total gamut of emotions that I experience all at once. For starters, there’s this quiet tranquillity that comes from being in such a peaceful place, a welcome change from the humdrum of daily life. But it seems to recede just as soon as it comes to be replaced by a sense of confusion, regret even. It’s only when we get these quiet moments to ourselves that we begin to get introspective. Start musing over everything we've done. There's this certain apprehension about the future too, wondering if we've made the right choices.
Looking at the river flowing, I can't help but notice the resemblance it shares with our lives, nothings constant. And yet the river at least has an aim, I’m still trying to find mine. Sure I’ve got my life all planned at least for the next five years, but then I know there's no guarantee that things are going to turn out just as I expect it to. Its then that I realize the need to live life one moment at a time. To enjoy it to its fullest. It’s something most of us tend to forget. We spend so much time worrying about what is going to happen that we forget to live. We just go on existing until someone or something decides it high time to give us a rude awakening and make us realize what we've missed. As much as we hate it when we realize the truth, a part of us is actually relieved as well. We are a strange bunch, aren't we?
For those of you who are wondering if I’ve gone all potty and am just rambling on, maybe I have or maybe not. I'm pretty used to people thinking I’m a little off my rocker but hey, I know where I stand. You are the ones who need to slow down and start living for a while. In case you've forgotten, life's beautiful........................

The Secret

2009-03-11T00:39:00.000-07:00

I'd written the following story for a competion in college, so i'll have to warn you, its not one of my better stories. That's because i feel that stories should be written only when inspiration strikes ;-) but in a competition you're given a topic and have to build on it.....in this case, i was just given the title "the secret" ...... well i did what a could and this is the result. for those for you who have been reading my stories since high school, please read the note on the right(hey there..) the rest of you folks can just continue with the story......

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“Mother and Father looked so nice together didn’t they?” asked Lily, pointing at the family photograph on the wall. “Yes, they did”, replied her older sister Elena. “I wish they were still alive Elly, then I could play with daddy just like you did”’, said Lily. Elena wrapped her arms around her little sister and whispered in her ear,” I wish they were her too. You always were their favourite you know.” Lily smiled and then ran out to join her friends in the garden. Glancing out of the window, Elena could see her ten year old sister laughing and playing. She marvelled at how quickly eight years had gone by. Her eyes were drawn again towards that old black and white photograph in the wall. She let her mind drift back to what seemed like another life.
They’d been a happy family, her parents, her brother Mark and herself. Her father was a farmer, and though they weren’t very rich, they were happy and contented. Lily’s arrival into the family had just increased their happiness manifold. Her father would work in the fields all day while she and her brother went to the village school. After school, Mark would lend his father a hand while Elena helped her mother with the baking and the meals. Theirs had been a happy life.....until the war. Over the radio, they heard the prime minister urging all capable men to fight for their country. Father enlisted himself in spite of Mother’s repeated protests and pleas... none of them could dissuade him. “It’s the least I can do”, was what he said.
After a month of anxious prayers and waiting, they received a letter saying that Father had been grievously wounded and was being sent back. Elena could vividly remember the day Mark and his friends had carried Father into the house on a stretcher. Elena rushed to her father’s side and held his hand. But though he looked the same, he seemed different, distant.
Her father was a changed man. He recovered from his wounds quickly but all at home could sense the difference. Father no longer smiled and joked like he used to. He no longer went out to the farm. He just sat in his chair and stared out of the window all day long, as if he was afraid of someone coming. They often heard him screaming in the middle of the night, checking all the locks. The doctor said that the war had affected his mind. There wasn’t much they could do.
Elena shuddered as she recalled that dark night that changed her life forever. The enemy had attacked their village that night, setting fire to the houses and shooting the unarmed villagers.
Elena grabbed Lily from her bed and ran into the hall. Her father stood there with his rifle aimed at Mark’s chest. He was shouting and ranting insanely, believing that his own son was his enemy. Mother lunged at him and tried to wrestle the gun from his grip but she was no match for him. Elena watched, shell-shocked as her father shot her mother and then trained the gun on her. Elena stood frozen with fear, carrying Lily in her arms. “Elena, run! Take Lily and go!” Mark screamed. He pushed her out of the door just as Father fired again. Mark slumped to his knees, looked at her and pleaded with her to get away.
Elena looked at him one last time and ran. She joined the other villagers who were running away. They reached the next village where they were given shelter. Her mother’s brother came for them the next day. They lived with him now.
Elena never told anyone what happened that night. Everyone believed that her family was killed in the war. She didn’t want to tarnish her father’s memory. She knew that the monster who killed her mother and brother wasn’t her father. Her father had died in the war, it had destroyed him.
As Elena watched Lily playing, she vowed that she would never tell anyone what transpired that night. She would take that secret, that nightmare with her to the grave.

Holding On....

2009-02-19T02:24:00.000-08:00

lingering since the day of it's birth
the soul wanders all over the earth
walking through life's dreary days,trudging through the years
finding no rest where'er it goes

in listless aimlessness it wanders around
seeking a goal, an aim, a purpose
but finding none, only running into walls
bruised and battered until it falls

yet still so insolent, so spunky and innocent
still unyielding still headstrong
still so proud, it wants to go on
heedless of setbacks, ignoring the pain
locking it all deep within itself

life's journey still miles long
hope yet remains to find its fate
its destiny lies in a place unknown
till then will it go without a backward glance
never showing the scars of wounds long gone......

Rise of the Barbarians

2009-01-28T01:42:00.000-08:00

Welcome to Mangalore. A formerly little known town in coastal Karnataka which has always been overshadowed by big brother Bangalore. Not anymore, Mangaloreans are so sick and tired of being virtual unknowns, that some of us decided it’s high time people noticed our location on the map. All thanks to the saffron brigade for helping Mangalore get noticed.
First the attacks on Christians and now moral policing. “Moral policing”, interesting term isn’t it? What gives these people the right to dictate what constitutes our culture and morals? These barbarians were beating up girls, what sort of morals does that reflect? According to them, girls were not properly dressed and dancing obscenely, so these guys decide they have the right to molest them, sheesh!!
So what now? Am I not allowed to go out with my friends for a couple of drinks just because I’m a girl? Am i supposed to stay away from my friends just because they are Muslims or Hindus? Democracy is anyhow virtually extinct, pretty soon secularism will be wiped out if these goons have their way. 60 years of calling ourselves a democracy and we're still somewhere in the dark ages, how else can you explain such immature, barbaric behavior?
Well i’m not going to let some brainwashed hooligans with IQs the size of an egg cup dictate how i’m supposed to live. I don't care if my friends a Hindu or a Muslim. What difference should it make as long as they’re decent humans? My life is the one thing that i own totally, no one else has a right over it. So I’m the only one who can decide what i do, what i wear and who i go out with. I can be who i want to be and no one can take that away from me. And if anyone has a problem with that, it’s high time they grow up.

P.S: anyone interested in creating a game online where you score points on banging the goons? remember the 'throw the shoe at bush' game ;-)

Size Zero?????

2009-01-23T22:53:00.000-08:00

This year started out pretty great for me. For the first time ever I didn’t have to bother about fitting into a dress. I’ve always been a wee bit on the heavier side since childhood so I’d normally shun those oh-so-cute-n-sexy dresses that are so blatantly displayed in all stores come the new year. But like I said, I didn’t have to bother this year, all thanks to an extremely successful exercise regime I’ve been religiously following the last 7 months. Since it’s worked so well for me, I think it’s only right that I share it with those friends of mine who could some help in that department. Mostly because it’s a highly successful but little known programme.
Now I must warn you that the trainers in this regime are very hard taskmasters. And the first few days leave you aching all over. I normally start it off at 7.30 in the morning. Depending on how late I am, warm up varies from a brisk walk to an all out run and ends with a jump on to a one square foot board. Now starts the tricky part and this took me a long time to master. You’re standing on a board suspended about 4 to 5 feet off the ground and the boards moving in all possible directions. To make matters worse, you’re not the only one going through this torturous routine, there have to be at least 50 odd people crammed in all around you at the same time. So you’ve got to learn to maintain your balance and not fall on the others. This part tends to put everyone in a bad mood. So if you’re not used to hurling abuses at people, you better carry a pair of ear plugs.
Like I mentioned earlier, this is an all out workout routine that exercises all parts at once. Upper body work outs include holding on to railings attached to the ceiling. Thanks to all the swaying around of the floor, you’ve got to use your hands to stay in one place, though I admit there have been several times when I felt like my arm was being ripped out of its socket. Oh, I forgot to mention. This routine also involves a very unpleasant massage. It mostly involves being poked in the back, elbows jabbed into your ribs and stomach, and not to forget, people stepping all over your toes. It’s going to leave you black n blue all over. I come home every day with really colourful bruises but I’m pretty much used to it now.The last 2 minutes involve kicking, pushing and pulling people around so that you can make it to the door on time. Good way to learn how to get out of crowds.
I admit it sounds really painful but trust me it’s worth it. I’ve tried all sorts of diets before and none of them worked. But this is the only regime that allows me to eat everything I want and still lose weight. And the best part, it only lasts for 20 minutes!!!! No more slogging at the gym for hours just to lose a couple of kgs.
For those of you who’re interested in trying this out, these centres are pretty easy to locate.
Just walk down the road and jump into a public transport bus during peak hours. You’ll get the best work out money can buy. I'm still working towards achieving the perfect figure;-)

One Dark Night.....

2009-01-12T00:26:00.000-08:00

New Years supposed to start with a bang right???? Well the party on new year's eve was fun but i think 2009 decided to enter my life shaken not stirred.......I need to stay away from those martinis....
NOTE:The following is based on a true incident that occured a few days ago. I have however taken the liberty of changing the names of the people involved since I have no intention of getting whipped in public. One more thing, i've been told the narraive gets boring in the middle. I've tried making amends but if its stll a bore let me know.

It was about 8.30 in the evening. In this part of the world it's pretty late. A bunch of students (me included) had just left a pretty well known college somewhere near Manipal after attending an inter-collegiate event. We were all worn out but then, when your having fun, you don't notice it. Now all of the girls' cell phones were ringing nonstop courtesy of our anxious parents since all of us had to get to manglore and thats a good 2 hours journey by bus. A few of the guys were chivalrous enough to leave the party early so that they could escort us home, they had no intention of letting the girls travel alone this late appearenty though I'm pretty sure that wasn't the only reason.
So there we were at the bus stop praying for a bus to come by soon. The bus came all right but I'm pretty sure the conductor got the shock of his life to see a bunch of 30 youngsters rushing in. That was one of the last buses for the evening and none of us wanted to be left behind. After settling in, we were out to ruin the sleep of the other passengers but screaming and shouting at the top of our voices, well what else can you expect? We were having fun.
The road from manipal to manglore is pretty scary, because the area is sparsely populated and street lights are found only at junctions. Everythings going all hunky dory until the engine starts sputtering. Now that starts giving Ria, Hina and Vinny the jitters coz the three of them had just missed being seriously injured in a bus accident the previous day. Some of the other pasengers weren't so lucky. The bus moves fine for a while but then starts making odd noises again. Ria starts panicking. Ash tries calming her down but Ria just gets more agitated.Pretty soon she's screaming and crying that she wants to get off the bus. The bus rolls to a stop and Ria jumps out that instant totally refusing to get back on the bus.The bus didnt look like it was going to start again so we all trooped out.
We had absolutely no idea where we were, no street lights or signs around anywhere. A few minutes later the conductor asked us to get in coz the engine was up and running. Ria didn't want to and we couldn't just leave her and go. So the guys requested the conductor to wait for a while until another bus came along.
Nope he didnt wait, the bus went off and we were stranded in the middle of no where. Needless to say, most of the girls started freaking out. The scene might as well have been out of some horror movie.A dark road in the middle of the jungle, no light for miles around, and boy was it chilly.
The guys finally decided to get serious. Since our group was the first to leave, Adi tried calling up the others to see if they'd left yet. Fortunately they hadn't but they were still an hour away. There wasn't much we could do. Neeta and I were actually having fun,couldn't help it. We both love the outdoors and are always game for adventure, adds some spice to an otherwise boring life. The situation would actually be pretty hilarious if it wasn't for the fact that Ria was getting hysterical.
"What now?" I asked Adi. "Well I spoke to the guys, they said they'd arrange a vehicle for you girls. Once we send you off safely we'll jump into another bus. Till then I think it'll be a good idea to walk back to the last junction. No one's gonna be able to able to see us here."
"We could stop a passing bus and get in," Ali chips in.
"yeah right, you any bus passing by is gonna be speeding. you expect them to stop?"
"Any harm in trying?"
Ali tries being the daredevil and starts a curious jig in the middle of the road once he spots a bus. Didn't work.
9.30 and still no sign of any vehicle. We'd been stranded for about 30 mins by then. Finally another bus comes by. It's crowded but the guys force us in. Ria'd calmed down by then but was still pretty upset. Anyhow, she agreed to get in and the rest of the jouney was quite uneventful. Reached manglore at round 10.30. Yes the others did get quite a lecture. Me, well, I'm enjoying the advantages of living alone. If my parents ever find out i'm pretty sure they're gonna ban me from outstation trips, but then who's gonna tell them?;-)
Still, I enjoyed the new year.

What's the hurry?????

2008-12-29T01:33:00.000-08:00

Christmas has got to be the busiest and most irritating time of the year, the first step of course is getting home in one piece, and anyone who's traveled by the Mangalore-Udupi express buses will know it's no mean feat. The bus rides are definitely not for the faint-hearted. Besides, it is advisable not to eat anything for at least 2 hours before getting into these buses. And unless you're a death race enthusiast, never sit right next to the driver even if it’s the last seat on the bus.
So after two torturous hours of muttering prayers for making it alive this Christmas, I land at my uncle's place only to have my darling cousin, Aaron, dump a two inch thick pile of invitations on me. "Wow, that's a pretty thin pile isn't it", I mutter to no one in particular. "Ah, don't worry Yuls", Aaron chirps, a little too sweetly, "Those are just the ones addressed personally to your dad, there's another pile of invites addressed to the whole family, and you've got to attend those as well"
After a lot of excuses of I-got-lots-of-assignments and need-to-get-to-Mangalore-ASAP, us four cousins decide to go for a 'distant' relative's roce so that we could meet a lot of 'close' relatives who thankfully end up at all possible functions. Saves us the headache of visiting each one in turn. Now a roce is a weird mangie wedding tradition quite similar to a Hindu haldi ceremony. It normally takes place a day or so before the wedding and involves dunking a whole lot of coconut milk on the bride or groom, depending on who's side of the family you're from.
Recent additions by the mean, wicked, scheming band of siblings and cousins would be tomato juice (stinks real bad), eggs (this part is fun!!) and beer (considered a waste by the uncles and encouraged by the aunties, "oh, its much better, at least it reduces the booze") Oh yes, it's a lot of fun alright, except for the poor souls at the receiving end- the bride, groom, best man and bridesmaid. Why am I sympathizing with them? Well, I was the bridesmaid at my cousins wedding a year ago so I should know.
Right so there I was all geared up to meet "The Shet Khandan" of which I am a part. Yes, I know my surname's D'Souza so what’s with the Shet part? Well, D'Souza has got to be the most common catholic surname in Mangalore and all the D'Souzas, yes all of them, unfortunately are very proud people who like to think they are unique. Hence the Shet (pronounced shay-t) factor. And yes there is some long story as to why we got that name which I don't quite know properly because I never listened to all those uncles droning on and on in their boring talks. And the khandan part, well trust me the family's huge, real huge. Heck even I don't know all of them but I can be excused, I’ve only been in the country fulltime for the last two years and most of it has been spent in hostels and PGs.
Once I got through the round of meeting all the uncles and aunts and of course seeking their blessings (you'll be cursed if you forget to do that, apparently) I thought I'd sit down for a while and sort out who’s who (yes, I’m still confused, give me a break guys, when it comes to names I’m an amnesiac and this is one huge family) That's when I bumped into Ally. Ally's the one who got married last year, I was her bridesmaid. We had a lot of catching up to do. Problem was, no one warned me that marriage changes a girl drastically, Ally, who was a really fun person up until last year has turned into a different creature who eerily reminds me of my mum. You know, the sit-straight-legs-down-behave-like-a-girl lectures that mothers love to give, suddenly that’s what she's become.
"Cut it out Al, you're beginning to sound a lot like Mum"
"Yea, well I might as well start practicing. Two years back, the only question I was asked was when are you getting married. Now that I'm married, they're ready with the next question, when are you giving us some good news?"
I didn't want to be mean but I couldn't help laughing, and boy did Ally look like she wanted to strangle me for that.
That's when Ally turns into the villain of my oh-so-happy life story, "So how old are you now?"
"Uh...19"
"Ah, good so you've got about 6 more years."
"Huh??!! No, I've got only 2 more years in college. How 6?"
"Oh, no, I meant 6 more years until you get married"
"WHAT???!!!"
OK, I have no idea where that came out from. For heavens sake, I'm still in college, getting married hasn't even crossed my mind, but apparently everyone else has been making plans. As Ally explained later, since I'm the eldest girl, all my dear relatives will start giving me lectures just as I reach 23.
Freaky, yes. Scary, definitely.
What’s the hurry people?
But there's no way I was going to give Ally the satisfaction of having scared me.
"Come on Ally, you know me, there's no way I'm getting married so darn soon." that was a last ditch attempt at bravado.
"And why not???", demands an aunt who decides this is the perfect time to make a grand entry(read 'butt her nose') into a conversation that doesn't concern her at all according to me. The Manglorean aunt is a very rare species who believes it is her birthright to eavesdrop on her nephews and nieces, and their kids as well. They go about forever dispelling advice and demand your complete attention no matter what. If your aunt decides she wants to talk to you, you're expected to drop everything you do and pay rapt attention to every 'priceless' word she utters. Disobedience could cost you dearly; you'll be getting lectures from your parents about respecting your aunts, in addition to the lecture from your aunt which she's determined to give at all costs.
Getting back to aunty dear's question, and trying to ignore that evil smirk on Ally's face,
"Why not?? As of right now aunty, I can give you two simple but effective reasons, I'll think up of more later. One, I'm just 19, I'm still in college, it's my time to enjoy myself not think about marriage. Two, I'll be 21 by the time I graduate, add another two years for post graduation and I’m gonna be 23 or 24 by the time I'm through with studying. There's absolutely no way I'm getting married so soon after that so please cut me some slack (FYI, the conversation with my aunt was carried out in Konkani and I'm trying my best to give a decent translation)
"Humph!!", retorts the aunt," The problem with you girls these days is that you're too involved in your careers. Back when I was your age, girls would get married right after they finished school. Sometimes I feel education is ruining your future"
"Of course Aunty, but times are different now right?"
"You kids are too stubborn for your own good"
Thankfully Aunty dearest was called away to help in something right then and I was spared the ordeal of fighting a losing battle with her.
Ally seemed to enjoy watching me suffer.
"So Ally. had fun watching me getting the third degree?"
"Oh stop cribbing, you might as well get used to it. Been there done that, there's no escaping it. I got through my share. It's your turn now.", and she flashes that devilish grin again.

Hey Senor Santa Claus!!!!

2008-12-17T22:31:00.000-08:00

Dear Santa
It's been almost ten years since I last wrote to you. A long time, I know. So how have you been keeping. Yes, I know it's your busy time of the year and as usual you'll reply only after Christmas but don't worry, I'll wait for your reply. Now you must be wondering why I suddenly decided to write to you after such a long time, but the reason's quite obvious isn't it? I want some presents this year. Now don't you dare say I'm being selfish, I haven't asked you for a thing the last ten years. And hey, you didn't answer my question last time around. How come your handwriting's almost like dad's? Now don't say it's not. Dad's handwriting is really distinct. Very few people can manage to decipher that scrawl.
Right so what do I want this year? I can think up of a lot of things, but I'm not going to bother you with that. A little hard work on my part and I can get the stuff I want. What I want is not something I can buy off the street. I could use a little divine intervention here. That's where you come in St. Nick(why don't people just call you St. Nick?It sounds way cuter than Santa).
I could do with two little things, and they both involve time.
First, could you like, add a few extra hours in a day? I could really use them. 20 hours don't seem enough(hey i need a minimum of 4 hours of shut eye don't I?). I'm not kidding. Not like I don't know how to manage time. I can do that pretty well(I think). But I could use a couple of extra hours of sleep.
Second,(and this is more important) is there any way to stop time for a while and go on rewind? Especially when i feel time's running too fast? Maybe you could get me a Time-turner. Because I'd really like to do a rewind and replay some of the best scenes of my life, but as a viewer, mind you. I don't want to grow younger, I just want to see a few things again. Like those times....
-when bedtime meant a story from Dad. Yes, I know most of the stories never made sense but they were fun anyway.
-the times my brother and I would irritate Mum to the core. I still remember that one huge bowl of cornflakes that she'd force into us every morning. And that's one bowl for the two of us, how else could she manage to feed two hyperactive kids? She seriously deserves an award for all the running around she did to prevent potential disasters from occurring all over the house.
-the time I won all those prizes in school, back then, getting a prize was something special.
- climbing on to Dad's shoulders and feeling like I was on top of the world.
- those long drives on the mountains that Dad would take us on in the rains and the breathtaking views out of the windows.
- swimming on the beach and building sand castles just to watch them being washed away by the tide.
-learning to swim on the beach and trying to avoid all the "goan sausages" as my cousin would call them.
-camping out with friends and going trekking.
-Mum's futile attempts to teach me crochet work and embroidery during school vacations(that does not mean that I can't manage a needle and thread).
-racing on my cycle and feeling the breeze through my hair (I never found out who stole it, and it was my favorite cycle)
-seeing my baby brother for the first time.
-all those lectures from mum and dad about how they never had things as easy as we did. I actually miss those lectures now, who would have thought;-)
-playing bluff with the whole band of cousins. Last time around it was 16 of us and we needed three packs of cards.

Well I wouldn't want to bore you with all of this. I know you are a busy guy. But you know what, I'm beginning to have second thoughts. Somehow I seem to be having more fun remembering all of this. I don't think I need a time turner. And I could do without all those dirty footprints that you tend to leave all over the place. But hey, it was nice writing to you again. And hope to hear from you soon.
MERRY CHRISTMAS!!

Have a Heart?

2008-12-01T22:44:00.000-08:00

The recent spate of violence all over the country has upset a vast majority of us, even those who weren't directly involved. The most recent of course is the terrorist attack in Mumbai. The fact that the terrorists gained such easy access to such prominent hotels is enough to scare the living daylights out of anyone. The loss of so many innocent lives is very disheartening, and yet another thing that gnaws at my mind is the statement that we Indians are a resilient lot, we manage to bounce back to normal routine soon.
Granted the fact that none of us likes to dwell on such issues for long, we try getting into our normal routine to get over our grief. But is this becoming a habit? Have we started accepting such brutal violence as a part of our lives?
I've lost count of the number of bombings and attacks both communal and terrorist that have taken place in India in the last two years itself. It seems to be the same story everytime. Sure the day the bombings take place, all the local people are united, they help each other out. That's good, but what after that? The government announces a paltry sum to the victims as compensation and most of the time even that rarely reaches the right hands. After that starts the blame game by the netas, all their empty promises, the speeches of 'if we were in power we would have done so and so'. Who's concerned about the grieving families? And in a couple of weeks its all forgotten about, the news channels get something new.
We've grown so used to all the violence that we seem to be practically immune to it now. I recall an incident that took place a few years ago that clearly drove that point home. On my way back home i'd come across an accident between a truck and a car. The car was a mangled wreck and quite obviously, the driver didn't survive. And yes there was a lot of blood over the place.The traffic was moving pretty slowly as they had to manoeuvre around the crash. A school bus was passing by and i doubt those kids were any more than about 12 years of age. I expected them to be upset by the sight, i knew i was, yet the only exclamation i heard from them when they saw the wreck was 'cool!!' That was not a reaction i ever thought i'd hear for an accident. But i guess that's the kind of world we live in now. We see so much of fighting, bloodshed all around us that we just kind of switch off the emotions that come up. Its just that initial; reaction, after that, time to get on with it.
I not sure if what i've just said is true. I sincerely hope its not, because if it was, if we didn't have a heart, we'd cease to be human right? But even with all this, we still come across people who are willing to reach out, who feel the pain that others do. Sure we all feel it, it's just that it takes that extra ounce of courage to reach out. So inspite of it all, there's always hope....... And lets not forget all those bravehearts who gave their lives, they deserve to be remembered.
ciao ;-)

Stuck in the 18th Centuary

2008-11-27T04:19:00.000-08:00

oh well i came to the cyber all set to put up a post, but right now i seem to belong to a place thats about 10 years in the past!!! for heavens sake, i never expected to enter a net cafe which has no usb port. as of right now i'm busy hammering on some sort of ancient keyboard that seems to resemble a typewriter and my fingers are beginning to hurt from punching so hard. i better come up with some ideas soon to convince dad to get me a broadband connection,but considering my miserable performance in the exams, thats not likely to happen. ah well might as well put up the post later, my fingers are beginning to smart, cya ppl.....

Marathi Manoos Ya Marathi Manhoos???

2008-11-14T03:49:00.000-08:00

This topic may have cooled down a bit right now what with Obama winning the elections splashed all over the paper[he gets more coverage than our politicians even?], the Malegaon blast investigation....and that gag order on him that finally seems to be working to an extent at least, Mr Raj Thackeray has been one irritating trouble maker for people living in Mumbai. For a person who claims to represent the whole of the Marathi manoos how come he concentrates so much only in Mumbai?
You know what Mr. Thackeray, you are yet to convince me. You say you are a ‘son of the soil’ and yet you still seem to be using the anglicized version of your name, Thackeray doesn’t sound Marathi to me or do you even know what your names supposed to be???? Poor William Thackeray will be turning in his grave just because he shares a name with you, considering the remarks you make... by the way hasn’t your son opted to study German instead of marathi? How come you don’t have an objection to that? Your aim is apparently the welfare and promotion of the cause of all marathis, and yet you love travelling in a Benz and sipping imported scotch....wow talk about blasphemy you hypocrite
Now for those of you who are wondering why this sudden outburst from a girl living miles away in manglore,dont worry I’m not losing it.....just being a little patriotic and showing some loyalty to the place where I was born and love living in...along comes Mr. Thackeray to send me packing to where???? I’m not leaving [technically I can’t I know, I’m not even in there].
But if you want some support then here’s an email I received a week or so ago....if every Indian agrees to it then maybe[and that’s a big MAYBE] I’ll move out.......keep dreaming...

1. Parliament should have only Delhites as it is located in Delhi
2. President, prime minster and all other leaders should be only from delhi
3. No hindi movie should be made in Mumbai, only marathi[like thats ever gonna happen]
4. At every state border, buses, trains, flights should be stopped and the staff changed to locals.
5. All Maharashtrians working abroad or in other states should be sent back as they are SNATCHING jobs from locals.[very important]
6. Visits to the taj mahal should be restricted to people from UP only[lets see that happen]
7. Relief for farmers in Maharashtra should NOT come from the centre coz that money is collected as tax from the whole of india, so why give it to someone in Maharashtra??
8. Lets support kashmiri militants because they are also killing and injuring innocent people for the benefit of their state and community after all.
9. Let’s throw all MNCs out of Maharashtra. They should open their own Maharashtra Microsoft, MH Pepsi and MH marutis.
10. Stop using cell phones, emails, TV, foreign movies and dramas. James Bond should speak in Marathi.
11. Maharashtrians should be ready to die hungry or buy food at 10 times higher price but should not accept food imports from other states.
12. No industry should be set up in Maharashtra if the machinery comes from outside the state.
13. Stop using trains in Maharashtra. Trains are not manufactured by Marathi manoos and the railway minister is BIHARI!!
14. Ensure that children born in Maharashtra should grow, live and die without stepping out of Maharashtra, then they will become true marathis.
So you see Mr. Thackeray, for all the things you claim to be doing for the Marathi manoos, most people have begun to consider you ‘manhoos’. Most of your supporters look like paid hoodlums who just wait for your instructions to then go smashing public property and banging up innocent people. With politicians like you whose only aim seems to be to balkanize the nations, who the heck needs external enemies????
Try as you might, i doubt you can succeed in what you’re doing. Mumbai’s a metropolis, you try sending people out you’ll not only be stealing her identity but also sending back into the middle ages. Not to mention, the whole of Mumbai will be out to skin you.
That’s about it for now, and hopefully he isn’t going to try something new.
P.S: wils I’m so sure you’d love to blast the guy even more than me;-]

Someone to Watch Over Me

2008-10-12T23:37:00.000-07:00

SOME BHAK-BHAK: i really wonder who on earth thought up of the semester system...if the guy thought he'd started a new system of education he needs a reality check,what he created was a new system that's now known as "forgetting in installments". i'm serious, you spend four or five months cramming up info which isn't given enough time to settle in, and just as it all starts to make sense you have to forget all of that and get on with the next sem.Great!!! Now for those of you who have the patience to check my blog once in a while or so, i have to tell you i may not be coming online much till nov end...gotta cram up for the sems;-) I'll try popping in next week if i come up with anything...
as for the following poem,well i'm not much of a poet and normally stick to prose but every once in a while words pop up in my head which have to be put down as they appear,they refuse to be arranged in any other way. I cant explain it in any other way so i hope you get it. If not then just enjoy the poem. This one's kind of special because it's dedicated to someone Special:-)
***************************************
As a child I recall Mum telling me
That each one of us has an Angel
To watch over us.
Most of us never get to see them
We just know they are there
But I guess, I’m one of those lucky few
‘Cause I know You
Since the first time we met
You’ve brought a smile to my face everyday
Even right now, just thinking about you makes me smile
Every moment we spent together
Is special, priceless infact,
And mum was right,
You always did watch over me
Though I reckon she never thought
That you’d be
Such an adorable lil rascal

No matter how low I felt
You’d just come, sit next to me
And inevitably cheer me up
In ways that only you could think of
And that cute smile of yours,
Always made me
Feel like nothing else matters
Everything will be just fine
Life’s never dull when you’re around
You seem to make everything around you lively

I know we’re miles apart now
But somehow the distance doesn’t matter at all
‘Cause I know you’re still with me
People seem surprised when I tell them
I don’t miss you
They think I’m in denial, but I’m not
You can’t miss someone who’s with you all the time can you?
And as long as you’re watching over me,
I know I’ll be alright.

In Pursuit of Oblivion

2008-09-22T02:54:00.000-07:00

well here it is,my first blog. I'd planned on writing another article but never got around to it.So i decided to put up this short story i'd wriiten a couple pf weeks ago. Feel free to leave your comments or criticisms.
NOTE: This is an amateur attempt of mine at writing stories and does not in any way reflect on my life or any incident as such. It's just a figment of my imagination.Have fun reading it:-)

She stood there in front of the rubble. It had been a full two years. Nothing remained there anymore. Not a thing to remind her of what once was, but remember she did. The past haunted her as always. Those voices, those faces, all refusing to let her be.
Did she really want to forget? No, forgetting would mean letting go. She wanted to have them, those nightmares. She willed them to stay with her. Only they could keep her sane. She’d lost touch with reality, living in the past.
She cursed that fateful night. Despised those responsible for it. But then, didn’t she deserve the blame too? She’d let it happen. She could have stopped it but she didn’t. Why? Had she been so blind? So naïve to trust Him? She’d believed Him, trusted Him. And He’d let her down. They said He always did things for the best. But He of all people had ripped her heart out, took the one person she valued above all. The one most precious to her. She could still feel those tiny fingers curled around hers. She remembered holding him up as he took his first tiny steps. Oh!! The joy, the pride she felt. She could fight the whole world, if only he was with her. If only she hadn’t faltered, if only she hadn’t left…….
Tears crowded her vision, they refused to stop. What right did she have to live? She couldn’t bear the guilt anymore. It was like a cross around her neck dragging her down to the crypt, down an endless abyss. She couldn’t stand it anymore, the guilt, the pain. She ran towards the cliff.
The rain lashed down hard. A thick mist hung in the air. At the bottom of the cliff she could see the waves crashing furiously against the rock.
Just a few more steps, she thought, a few more steps and she’d be free. Free from the guilt, oblivious to the pain. She took a few steps forward……..and stopped.
She could see him walking towards her through the mist. That cute, impish smile on his face, that familiar twinkle in his eye. There was something he wanted to tell her. She could hear him now. “Don’t go”, he said. “Stay, you’re needed here.”
She stepped forward to reach out to him, he was just out of reach. The look in his eyes willing her to live, those tiny hands reaching out to her. “You’ll learn to live again”, he said,” I’ll teach you. It’s not your time yet.”
She stopped just short of the edge, unsure. One small step and it would all end. Yet, should she go or stay? The wind howled all around her, edging her forward, but his smile held her transfixed. He wanted her to stay.
One step and she would be free. There would be no one to shed tears for her. They wouldn’t even know she was gone.
She made up her mind then. She’d die today to live tomorrow. Kill her old life and start anew. She turned around to a new start.
But fate had something else in store for her. It played its last card. A gust of wind blew by and knocked her off. She slipped and fell over the cliff.
No one heard her cry out as she fell through the mist into oblivion….....