Last week I received a copy of the book “Games Indians play” from a friend which happens to be one of the most thought provoking works I have read since Taleb. I love Probability Theories and may be that is the reason why I found it gripping.The pessimism, the author caters towards our society though disappoints us a lot is perfectly warranted given the abysmal state in which our country is in. The premise on which the book is built is known to all of us, but is brushed aside as a phase which we will pass once we as a country grow consistently GDPwise. We as a society “is” structurally flawed. The truth we ignore blissfully seeing the small flyovers and metro rails sprouting across our cities. The author uses the prisoner’s dilemma and game theory in analysing, how Indians behave collectively to a scenario. We aggressively pursue a selfish course, forgetting how damaging it is to our growth as a strong civilization which can flourish together abiding the “Rule of Law”.
I am not proceeding into a detailed analysis of the book which would do a disservice to someone looking forward to read it. Thanks Ais for “Games Indians Play”. You have always been bang on when it comes to things I would enjoy and despise. Month end blues prevents me from returning the gesture, but I wish you a Wonderful Lizard free Diwali. :P
I think it was Malcom Gladwell who espoused the theory of weak tie. A weak tie is the casual connections(not friends) you have with varying degree. Gladwell argues that the number of weak ties is directly responsible to your social success. I have always bemoaned my inability to remember names, faces and sometimes events. Recently a friend from school reminded me of a story I wrote when I was in 10th. Though I have a vague recollection of writing something, I am unable to remember what it was all about. The cornerstone of any fruitful relationship is your ability to store details. A friend of mine who claims to know all his 600 odd friends in face book first hand is an expert in weak ties. He still remembers the name of school kids with whom we attended a summit 3 years ago, whereas I find it hard to recollect the name of the runner for my travel agent in Aurangabad who claimed that he had been to Thodapada in Kerala(It took me 20 mins of Q&A to encrypt it to Thodupuzha). Even though we ended up having a smoke together, his name and face still eludes me. Same applies to the innumerable people I knew in Chennai(including a wonderful person who used to sell the sweetest tender coconut water for me because his mother was from Vadasserikkara close to Sabarimala). It is not simply about making friendship with absolute strangers, but about sustaining it through Facebook or Emails or Phone. It is also about a sound brain which can recreate the image of the person even after years of your last encounter.
Recently a colleague from Cognizant pinged me out of the blue. She used to be this quintessential sloth in those days. I used to start at 6 O clock in the morning and would wait for her to come at 10 o clock, so that I can pass the mantle and go for my breakfast. The princess would arrive at 10 and directly head to the ladies room. It would take normally 30 to 40 minutes for her to come out and I used to wonder what transpired inside. Finally out of sheer frustration I asked another friend from a different team to check what she did in the ladies room all the time. And yes my doubt was not unfounded. The lady was varnishing her face with all the Nerolacs and Apex Ultimas to weather the gruelling work of the sweat shop. Over that she used to take leave citing strange reasons like, “Yesterday my cousin committed suicide, so her parents wants to transfer her assets to my name. Today is the registration”, “A thief broke into my house and stabbed me on the chest and you know what the news came in yesterday’s Hindu” and this is my persona favourite “Das... Das...
The incident actually opened my eyes on how bad I am in utilising or even knowing my weak ties. Here was a girl, whom I thought was dumb, selling a product to a guy whom she hardly knew, by remembering that he had pimples. This utilitarian approach to friendship is something which I avoid because I find a moral dilemma in that. I believe friendship or its fuel love, should be independent of reasons, with no strings attached. You cannot befriend a person expecting something from him/her and that is where my conception of weak ties falls apart. A friend called me on my Birthday and wished me without a notification from Facebook. When I asked her how she remembered, she replied, “That is You and Me”. I was simply bowled over by that surprising gesture. But the painful part is I don’t remember her birthday. So I have reconciled to the fact that I am not the kind of person who will have a lot of weak ties. Social success will be elusive and facebook would make matters worse by accentuating my laziness to travel the extra mile. Thus I bid adieu to all networks and circles for the time being to reflect on what kind of strange species I belong to. Maybe time would bring me back, but then it would be a different network, different circle and most importantly a different person.
She is back. I was wondering for months, why Ms Arundhati Roy was keeping quiet when the urban middle class of this country was flooding the streets with Anti Corruption Slogans, waving the tri colour, shouting Bharat Mata Ki Jai. From my reading of Ms Roy’s works I was expecting a violent outburst in the form of an essay when the Anti Corruption movement became popular Television News. Ms Roy’s distaste towards Jingoism in the form of National Flag, apparently Hindu Version of Nationalism like ‘Bharat Mata’ and ‘Vande Mataram’ is well known. Add to that we have a set of youth who from a distance can be tagged easily as ‘Urban Upper Caste Hindu’, I expected a violent outburst from Ms Roy. And we got it on August 21st in India’s own ‘People’s daily’- http://www.thehindu.com/opinion/lead/article2379704.ece . The potpourri that even the most degraded yellow journalist would be ashamed of conceiving simply because the person she is vilifying is a 74 year old man who has lived a life of austerity with his paltry pension and tried to change something around him for better.
I am replying to Ms Roy’s essay, rather than just ignoring it simply because I like her works, especially the latest ones about the plight of Adivasis in our country. I truly support her causes for Inclusive Growth in the story of India. But when she exhorts to her Self Styled Liberal audience that protest of a certain section of this country(read Urban Hindu Middle Class) is always with insidious intention, when she argues that everyone in the protest has a blemished past, when she tags them as opportunistic because they are silent about other Struggles of common people in this country, every cell of my body prompts me to respond to my favourite English Language Author.
The essay starts with the usual mockery on Vande Mataram and similar slogans. Yes they have a Hindu past. Put the ones who are protesting has the right to raise the slogans they wish. You cannot dictate the slogans that adhere to the Secular tenets set by Liberal Left to give them Legitimacy. I heard Inquilab Zindabad and other Revolutionary slogans on the streets. Does that make them Marxists? Does that make them less Indian?
Next is the non inclusion of Adivasis in the Jan Lokpal Camapaign. If you check the annals of history, Indian Independence Struggle was lead and populated by the very same non Adivasis. The struggle of Adivasis for Land is as important as a strong Anti Corruption Law. But the two issues do not converge at any point and it is misleading to tell that Anna Movement is top down. Today morning I was talking to a Newspaper Vendor and a Chaiwallah. They were excited and hopeful about the movement. They believed in Anna and his ideals. The Anna movement is not a movement of Urban, better off people. It is slowly getting a Pan India approval.
You were an ‘honoured guest’ in Tihar Jail back in 2002 for one day in connection with Narmada Bachao Andolan. So you would be a better person to answer whether a person loses credibility if he/she stays in Tihar as an ‘honoured guest’.
The most controversial and purposeful twisting of facts comes in the paragraph where Ms Roy asks what the fast has to do with other legitimate struggles across the nation. I wish to ask Ms Roy, why she is silent about numerous rapes happening in her home state Kerala, why she is silent about the widespread land encroachment done by Marxist party members in Idukki district especially in Munnar(is it because there is land encroachment charges against her in MP?- Oh yes there are lot of ‘Sober Journalists’ in the country who can dig your past as well). Is it because you don’t mind crimes being committed against women and Adivasis in Kerala? Is Narmada Bachao Andolan and Land Grabbing by Mining companies in Central India more important issues? The simple answer is an individual cannot fight all battles and win it. As Ms Arundhati Roy has certain causes, Mr Hazare has a different set of causes, Mr Kejriwal and Ms Bedi will have another set of causes. Nobody becomes holier because they fight for one particular legitimate issue. Nor is a person inferior because he/she did not lend his voice to a certain group of people. Mudslinging of Gandhiji is always done on the same premise, stating that he did not join hands with Negroes in South Africa in their fight. Does that make him a lesser Mahatma?
About Mr Raj Thackrey and Mr Modi, I can only say that a person has the right to voice his opinion. Appreciation of Mr Modi’s governance is a personal comment of Mr Hazare and it should be viewed in that angle alone. At no point did Mr Hazare endorse Mr Modi’s action/inaction during 2002 riots in Gujarat.
Then Ms Roy goes on listing funding towards Mr Kejriwal’s and Mr Sisodia’s NGOs. I would like to just point out that compared to Ms Roy enjoying money received from Booker Group infamous for slave trade in 19th and 20th Century, receiving funding from Ford Foundation would be lesser evil. Gandhiji lived in Birla House where he died fighting for India’s poor and weak. Birla House was the donation of Birla Group. I hope that does not prompt you to call Gandhiji a corporate stooge.
830 million of Indians living below Rs 20 a day is gross misrepresentation of facts. I don’t see even the most conservative economist putting India’s poor above 300 million.
Finally you are confused about the role of government in fighting corruption. Will it help if we have a powerful watchdog or should that role be given to NGOs(doing social audit)? As usual you fail to provide alternate models.
I don’t support Janlokpal Bill in its present form. I agree with you about the result- Creation of Two Oligarchies. The extra burden of finally bribing the Lokpal Official as well. But that does not give you the reason to bark like a Mad Dog at a 74 year old person, call him casteist and fanatic,throw mud at Mr Kejriwal and Mr Sisodia who have equal rights as you have to protest and shout(sometimes at higher decibels than you) for their causes.
Let everyone discuss, fight and talk about corruption. Let us patiently hear all solutions for combating the menace called Corruption including the one put forth by left leaning Ms Aruna Roy. If you have a solution please share that as well. Blemishing people who are fighting for a right cause is unbecoming of social activist of your stature. You did the same when Amir Khan joined the Narmada Bachao Andolan. Is it that only a person who is female by sex, Syrian Christian by caste, Architect by education, writer by choice has the right to be protest in this country?
By
An Upper Caste Hindu- Who supports reservation.
An Urban Youth- Who oppose atrocities against Adivasis.
A Nationalist(who sometimes shouts Vande Mataram)- Who has Muslim friends.
“Dantewada yahan se 200 km door hain. Waha bahuth naxal log hothe he sir”. Vijay was in no mood to stop talking when he was driving along the muddy road to Indian Steel Company in Basti Village. My heart was beating faster as we got nearer. My Manager was blissfully unaware of what we were upto. I had got clear warning from the Head Office that 2 bankers who had gone near the company for symbolic possession were beaten up. Others were unwilling to go. I jumped into the bandwagon without knowing all this.
The route from railway station was pristine and unblemished by concrete and cement structures. Paddy fields and small huts adorned both sides of road. I felt I was back at home. As we turned to the mud track leading to the company, Vijay the driver said that the main road goes to Orissa which is just 2 kms away. I was thinking about passages from“The Broken Republic” written by Arundhati Roy. Most of the villagers would lose their habitat and livelihood once their land is acquired for power plants and coal mines. They may be given jobs or compensation for giving up their fields. But that would be just prolonging the misery ahead. There are around 7 power plants around the Champa region. 26 new projects are coming. The ecological impact these factories would make on the region could be devastating. I thought of the comment by a leading fiction writer that India should mine all the minerals from these forests and paddy fields, and then we can all become rich. Most of the middle class Indians subscribe to such simplistic and preposterous ideas. The Midnight’s children had a lot of tall dreams about our country’s progress with Five Year Plans and Gram Swaraj, but Manmohan’s children(the ones born around 90s which includes me) have a completely different world view. The five year plans and poverty alleviation is replaced by demands for more malls and more bandwidth. The development of a region is gauged these days by the range in the mobile phone. I don’t know which side I am in. I look out after my small reverie and see the giant burners and the watch tower of the Steel plant. The road has gone from bad to worse. I tell Vijay to stop at some corner of the building so that we can paste the notice and take a photograph without inviting any attention. The sun had already come out in full glow, but nobody seems to have woken up to guard the route. I was getting a bit uncomfortable with the eerie silence.
My Regional Manager asks Vijay to take the car to the front gate to my shock. I cursed my fate for jumping into this suicide. Vijay slowly passed the watch gate, pulled up just enough with a rope for a small car to cross. When we reached the front gate I could not see any activity happening inside the company. As two guards halted us and asked what we were doing, we moved on unheeded. We had the supreme safety of the window panes of the Tata Indica. As we returned to the chowk, the Regional Manager asked Vijay to stop at some vacant corner of the boundary wall for pasting the possession notice. But people had already got crowded at the Watch gate. We replied that we took a wrong turn when they asked us our whereabouts. As we reached an empty corner, I applied gum to the notice and handed it over to my Manager. He hopped out and run towards the tall brick wall, as he was pasting the notice, I took some snaps of it. Suddenly I heard howling from the side of the watch gate. The workers were running towards us. I started to sweat. All of us got into the car and we started in full speed. After some distance we noticed two bikes following us. They overtook us at a particular point and my heart beat became normal. Suddenly I saw a railway gate which was getting closed before us. I saw the men from the company sitting with the gate man. I knew what was going to happen next.
Around 10 bikes most of them with 3 guys on it followed. They started banging on the window panes. Vijay asked innocently, “Aap kyun nahin bathaye?”Vijay opened the glass and the leader of the gang grabbed his collar. He snatched the papers from me and roared “To Tum Bank se aayo hon Saale....”. I got out of the car and went to the Leader, patiently explained to him in my inadequate Hindi that he can delete the photos that we took and tear off the notice. We don’t want any fight. He was in no mood to relent to my request and asked Vijay to take the car back to the company. I told the leader to take my seat in the car and I myself climbed into the pillion of one of the bikes. I tried to befriend the guy driving the bike. His name was Vikas Yadav and he was doing his Mcom. He told they were not paid by the company since April because plant had shut down because of heavy losses. I told I was doing my job and he should make sure nothing untoward would happen if we oblige them. There are no martyrs in Capitalism. It is futile to be a Hero when you are trying to do your daily job. Vikas assured me nothing would happen.
Once we reached the Watch gate, an old man came in a car. He had a long moustache. He was visibly agitated and asked us where we were from. He shouted that it is not proper to come at night and paste notices like thieves. I said it was morning, but he continued with his monologue. Finally he cooled down and said we were their guests and providers(as we have lent them money), but what we did was wrong. He introduced himself as Mr Jain. He said he was a Mazdoor.I observed him closely. He had the latest Blackberry phone and an expensive watch. He should be a really high paid Mazdoor. He asked us to sit in the chair brought to us. The scene changed suddenly from hostility to an uncomfortable camaraderie. Mr Jain spoke about the recession and subsequent crisis the company faces. He said they did not have captive mines which resulted in heavy losses when the supply was cut down suddenly by traders. I knew this as I had read their files .It was the result of the myopic vision of the company.. He was not telling anything new. I started getting bored with his rant. He said 7 bankers had come 3 days ago with police protection and the workers and their family, around 1000 of them prevented them from taking symbolic possession. We were obviously stupid to go their alone. I told we had been unaware of the ground reality and we were just doing our job.
The digital camera was taken to the Systems division of the company. In the mean time Jeevanand, the leader was throwing obscenities around him and us. He was high on Paan and something else. Another car came in few minutes. A tall guy wearing shorts got out. Vikas told me he was the Tecnical officer. He gave the camera back to us. He asked the workers to frisk us. I gave my phones. The Technical Officer lightened up when he saw the Hadimba Temple from my Manali trip last month. He corrected it as Hidimba temple named after Hidimbi, wife of Bheema. Finally they asked us to do as much as we can to restructure their debt. The regional manager promised that he would try. I also told Vikas and Anand that things would get better. All the photos we took near the company were deleted and the camera was returned.
As we returned I knew we had made empty promises to the hapless workers. Mr Jain and the Technical Officer would return to the greener pastures once the right opportunity came (or are they stuck there because of some stupid ideal? I don’t know). The promoters would go to new banks to borrow more for some new unsustainable venture. The banks would find new crooks to fund. The workers would be left with the concrete structure getting rusted before them. Their fields and home under it. Yes they had become rich, with steel and minerals at their backyards. Mobile towers all around powering their mobile phones 24 hours.
As my colleagues proceeded to the nearby town to see the advocate, I took a 1 hour bus ride to the nearby Industrial area. It was called the power capital of the state. The bus was full of village folks. They had a dusty texture to the skin, probably because of the Koyla mined out at every corner. Paddy fields and Power plants existed side by side on the way to the town. A Hyundai showroom had come up to cater to the needs of Immigrant engineers who ran the power plants. A Pajero and BMW were parked outside the small Dhaba were I ate my lunch. I saw farmers, beggars and factory workers living together in what looked like a fleeting harmony.
The new battle lines of my country would be on these towns. The farmers would continue becoming unskilled labourers and would be fired at the next recession when demand comes down. They will not have savings or land to sustain themselves. The unrest is here to continue in the heart of India. We will all be players in it. The air-conditioned buildings of Bangalore and Delhi would not save us from the ire of these angry youth. I pray to the unknown God to save my country on my way back. Before reaching back to office tomorrow I have to retrieve the photos they deleted from the camera. There are no heroes in capitalism, in the world that is flat, for the sons of Manmohan.
Obama’s visit to India opens a new chapter in the relation between the two nations. The Americans have stopped seeing India through the narrow prism of Pakistan. I believe this is the most important message Americans are giving rather than the grandiloquent statements the President of US is making. But have we stopped seeing ourselves as a big brother of one of the most rogue nation in the world? Has the Indian media and civil society realised the truth that India has much better things to worry than Pakistan. I guess not. The proclivity of our country to be tied down to issues of the South Asia is making us miss the wider opportunity awaiting us in the Asia Pacific region. To emerge as the undisputed leader of democratic free states among the giants like South Korea, Japan and Australia. India would be genuinely seen as the savior militarily and in the long term economically by these countries and we should be ready to make the maximum out of these resource rich and technologically superior countries. Are we ready for that?
Then there is China. How many of us really know about the most significant neighbour of ours? Recently I saw a photo in India Today wherein Mr Hu Jintao’s photo was wrongly named as that of Mr Wen Jiabao's. This clearly shows how poor is our knowledge about the 2nd largest economic power in the world.
The idea of Pakistan dominates every policy discourses we have. Even the youth of our country is too much inclined to read about Pakistan rather than Chinese as was evidenced in the innumerable Pak related questions put forth to Obama during his visit to a college. I wonder how much we know about China. Its fast expanding universities, hard working people and all pervading state owned enterprises, about Alibaba, Baidu and numerous other Chinese companies. If we really aspire to dominate the world stage in future, a collective awareness (we should not mind if it develops to paranoia, similar to the one Americans had towards Soviets) on China should be created.
Today a news channel was showing the comments made by Obama in Parliament. A significant one being his support(I wonder whether this is concrete) for India’s permanent membership in UN security Council. I was shocked to see the channel immediately showing Pakistan’s reaction to it. I wondered what impact Pakistan’s opinion might have in India’s fortune in UN. And no one cared what voices in China had to say whose nod is vital for India’s inclusion.
Only when Indians consciously banish the demon of Pakistan out of our mind we can get a clear sight of our challenges ahead. The perpetual competition we will have to fight out for every gram of resource required to drive our growth engine with China, the demise of Dalai Lama which will consolidate Chinese influence in Tibet(the only leverage India has in China) and Chinese growing clout in South Asia and more importantly East Asia and Africa.
The final point takes me to the next topic of our preoccupation with South Asia. The alarm bells are rung every time a Chinese company starts an infrastructure project in Sri Lanka, Pakistan, Bangladesh or Nepal. But the same vigil is lacking for China’s massive investment in Africa and Latin America which has the some of the most resource rich countries in the world. Have you wondered what would have happened if Americans remained in their continent and never forayed into Middle East or the Brits ensconced themselves in Europe. The wealth that created today’s Britain came from Asia and Australia. Africa is 21st century’s Asia. Ungoverned and backward, Africa presents great opportunity. If we make genuine efforts(not simply oil explorations by ONGC Videsh)to understand Africa and seduce it to our clout with perks like admissions for Africans in Indian Universities we can slowly develop an African mind tilted towards India.
But instead, we are still locked in the petty South Asian politics to be specific Pakistan centric Foreign policy. Our citizens continue to show abject ignorance towards our relations with African or Latin American countries, manifested in the air time a visiting dignitary from those regions generate. But even when a delegation of parliamentarians (the weakest class there) from Pakistan visit India, the newspapers stand up and take note of it.
Hope the next time when Mr Hu Visits India we call him Mr Hu and not Mr Wen or worst Mr Jiabao or Mr Jintao(Chinese write family names first and most people miss this point).
Now I understand how pointless it is to say, 'Let your soul rest in Peace'. The soul without a body would be the wind in desert which touches no trees,
which has no physical manifestations, which is body-less. Adorning peace to the end is just a mythical solace.I am sure it was an end and not peace. I tell
myself, she got released from the protracted suffering. But I know it was an end, final, unfair. Unfair to a bird which just started to fly, who can no more
see the world. Weaving words to dress up death is hard. So I stop.
Sometimes articulation is a burden.... Something which you have to do, but you cannot do full justice to. I am trying in vain. The feeling is an incredible heaviness to my life. It is not a cliched 'meaning of life', but something that transcends Meaning and Destiny. I have always found my path laden with thorns and suddenly those thorns are not painful. Maybe it is the view of the path which I didnt care to see till now. Maybe the view just got better. Maybe it is the beauty of the pain.A strange enigmatic comfort derived from the agonizing ordeals you are subjected to. Suddenly the journey has become more beautiful than the hope of destination. Yes I know that all the good things has an end attached to it, but so do I know there is nothing as foolish as the word predestined. I am inspired to act more than ever before. I am inspired to change opinions and prejudices. I am inspired to make myself better. I am inspired to laugh and cry for the real things in life. This for You. For your graciousness. For your endurance with the eternal pain called Me. For suffering my whims and still making me smile. No matter how short this phase is, this is The Spring.
Someone to whom you would dedicate a whole chapter in the story of your life....
For them you wont even be a sentence.....
The ones you blissfully forget..
For them you would be the story
But what I am thinking is about the story....
Will I have one???
Or will it be just another column in the inner pages of a newspaper....
Barney- You could have atleast bought her breakfast........
Marshall- Please stop that missile barter, you would never know when she would pounce on you from behind the sofa.
Ted- As usual confused.... If ever he was Morpheus and was convinced she was the one.
If ever he had the red pill
If ever she had taken it.
If Hundred Nights could weave a Glowing Sunshine.
If Hundred Stabs could initiate a hug.
If Hundred Years of Summer could turn into an Eternal Spring
If Hundred Wars could bring Peace forever
If Hundred Mirages could lead to one Oasis
If Hundred Falls could teach me to Walk
If Hundred Mistakes could inspire a daring Discovery
If Hundred Misfortune could bring one Serendipity
If Hundred Lies masquerade an Epiphany
I am ready to endure it all for You,
For You are the Hope in me, the end of the Tunnel, the Manna.......
It suddenly started to rain in the morning. I haven’t seen it in the last 4 months. It was so special. The beautiful smell of rain can sprout life even to the most morbid creations of this world. She blushed at me like a little child who pretends not to know you when you meet her after a long time. The world has been magnanimous to me for some time.
A friend in Chennai was something I didn’t expect given the character I am. Sandesh, Supriya , Shruthi , Shrutha and Santhosh( strange that all starts with S) have all been there for me during the most gruelling period of training. The academy life was wonderful because we were made to work more than others. As batch representatives we were asked to work as late as 12 at times. Initially we were all pissed off being asked to stay back. Then after sometime we all started enjoying it. Our solidarity was fuelled because we along with Sandesh were tagged as the unethical 4, for our outspoken nature.
Back in Bangalore things are looking even better. H1N1 has saved Malaysia for the time being with Vishal’s travel plans being postponed. I heard Ranees still calls out Varkey Varkey in his sleep. Hope his stone in stomach and heart be cured as early as possible. The former by medicine and the latter by a beautiful girl. Hari’s company in which incidentally I was also placed has reinstated the old salary. It is always heartening to see him doing well. Lakshman and I met at Guruvayoor last week, where he sold me the RS 5000 plan. This month also the book bill crossed Rs 2000, thus making me really sceptic about the plan. Aiswarya(I am mentioning her name for the first time in the blog) makes sure I am in the right track morally and academically every time we talk. She is pretty excited about joining the corporate world. Wishing her a fantastic banking career ahead. Let God give her the heath and imagination to empty the bourse of all the big shots into the coffins of her Japanese employer.
Vinu and Appu as always are doing well. We are planning a trip to Auroville, Pondichery next month.
So on Wednesday when I was travelling to Kerala, I felt more or less satisfied. Rain was watching me behind the clouds playing a hide and seeks game. When I reached Trivandrum, responsibility of setting Vishu Kani was given to me. After decorating I started missing Gauri. Yesterday was her first day in school. Asha is upset about not having her Ezhuthiniruthu in Mookambika. Hope the Gods in US will take care of her.
Yesterday I went to Kallar and Ponmudi alone. The trip was adventurous as there was no one to watch my back. I bribed the gate keeper and caught a glimpse of morning sun from the hill top. I truly missed my school friends when I trekked through the thick jungle of Kallar. Meenmutti had not dried up in the summer heat and poured into my heart the memories of the trip I took when I was 14. Still the rain was elusive. Last two days I listened to a lot of Hindustani music and it was soothing and exhilarating. I have decided to learn more about these songs which had the image of funeral songs in my mind.
Every desert will get its rain even after decades of waiting. It is the ultimate symbol of human persistence. But rain never discloses its whims. She likes to keep her secrets to herself. She doesn’t want to look obvious and predictable. The enigma of rain itself is its greatest beauty. It comes and goes when she likes fooling the army of sky watchers. The water that is the purest of all, the one that is vanguard of life is actually Mother itself as it can bring life even to the most parched corners of the earth. I saw her in full vigour today. I asked her to never to leave me again. She smiled and said, every time you truly yearn for me, I will manifest before you in the form of the very life I give you. In the evening I received another gift from her, a rainbow.
Amidst the crowd of normal people, charming ones, it is tough for a mad man like me. I go to pantry alone, not to be caught by sanity, but the coffee maker's rationale strikes me. It gives coffee when I ask coffee. It pours the right amount of milk. Right temperature. Why I cant give that warmth to the people who love me. Why I want to be mad. Why I love an asylum's aroma to a garden's fragrance? Why I love being alone in a crowd, though I like company? Why do I set guidelines for havoc. Why I fall from a cliff in every dream and wake up alone. Why do I forget the injustices done to me and masochistically repeat mistakes, Why do I love to be abused and love to play the victim.
Lesson1:
As Ted Mosby says nothing good happens after 2 am. For me it is like nothing good happens after you are drunk. Please keep the mobile phone at a distance or get ready for the impending catastrophe.
Lesson2:
Never read a Hindu newspaper when you are in a crowded bus. People may misconstrue, that you are too smart or intelligent.
Lesson3:
This is what your parents would have said when you were young. Never take sweets or other delicacies from strangers. Should have remembered what amma told when I was 5.
Lesson4:
Never tell your CAT score to anyone. People may brand you with that to such an extent that you would feel like jumping from 5th floor.
Lesson5:
Never discuss philosophy with someone whom you don't know, even if you are too good in it. Satre, Nietzsche, Russel whoever you know or have read wont help. As the saying goes 'never argue with idiots as they may drag you down to their level and then beat you with their experience'
I was reading Malcom Gladwell's Blink, which is about the the power of intuition and first impressions. I have heard somewhere that a woman decides whether she would sleep with a guy within 40 seconds of meeting him. On the whole the book truly reassures me that true love is like I believed, love at first sight, something which is created when you know virtually nothing about the person. When days proceeds our intuition is vindicated by our experience with her.
Love is not which is something that should be proved, it should be felt the moment you see your soul mate, every relationship other than that is mere business.
For the first time I am finding some sense in the war mongering of the Yadavs from the cow belt.Their insanity for the first time is for something good, something that may save our country. Do you want a puppet to represent you or a true leader. Indian women will not be empowered by giving them representation in parliament. If anyone wants the evidence of how bad this can get, go see your nearest panchayats where women reservation is already in place, where women are mere puppets in policy making, mostly wives of local leaders. Exceptions might be there, but this is mostly the case. India was one of the earliest countries to have a women ruler. The men of this country are not that chauvinistic like the Americans to stall the ascend of a truly powerful woman leader, but we don't want puppets in the temple of Indian democracy. Voice your opposition, stop this bill.
Why all the friends I know tell me about dumb ways in which guys ask them out... Is it a bit strange to tell all this in detail to me.. reverse phsychology I presume.....
SO here is what is happening for the past 5 months
1) Started working 15hrs a day in office.
2) Met craziest people alive( I thought I was the craziest)
3) Fought with a friend, made up, fought again, made up, fought with other friends for making up.
4) Made my friend start taking booze, thus confirming my seat in hell. Hoping to make hell worse.
5) Loving Chennai, but still hates Tamil.
6) Still Haven sent a single penny home.
7) Read the most preposterous story on a friend's blog. God somebody teach women History...
Now for the most important thing.... I think I have become a more boring person..which you can easily understand from the crap written above.
So wish me luck to stay sober...
Wish me luck to make people's life hell
Wish me luck to give God some work of setting things right( I told u good lord, if u screw me, all I can do is screw your creations includin myself).
Wish me luck to show the world that you are happy, because if there is something boring and sad, that is me...................
As I am feeling this blog is becoming more about personal things, I have started a new blog http://dasonomics.blogspot.com/. I hope my regular readers will be interested to read the general issues that I write in that blog. I am preparing my first post for the new blog and it will be put up soon. As far as this blog is concerned I have decided to start writing short stories(unlike the last post which was a bit satirical). Hoping everyone would appreciate it.
Sunday- The birth
I can’t open my eyes, but it seems my mind can tell, there is something wrong with the way the world sees me. Everyone around me is devious and is waiting for an opportunity to hunt me down in the one week I am alive. I don’t want to fly and for heaven’s sake give me some privacy.
Monday- The learning
The sun’s rays are hurting me and the heat in the nest is unbearable. Why was I born? All the birds around me are trying to start a conversation with me. I don’t want to listen to the empty chatter .My mother said the prudence is the highest virtue and she would guide me throughout the week. The whole week I would try to avoid bad company and will maintain my reputation intact.
Tuesday- The outburst
Today on my third day in the world, a wily bird tried to socialize. It said it knows me from the day I was born and my voice is truly captivating (which incidentally I am aware of). The wily bird is very famous for its grandiloquent gestures and I hate it when it becomes physically intimate to me. I hate when the wretched one touches my body.
PS: My mother also hates him
Wednesday-The friend
Every bird in the forest is attracted to my friend, but it is attracted only to me. Maybe it likes the fact that I am a prude. Prudes are so rare these days. I think I am a prized catch for my friend. I sing like a peacock and look like a nightingale. But my friend is always courting me and I don’t like that. The last thing I want in the three days left for me in the world is a bad name. Today my friend invited me to fly with the flock. I was shocked and rejected the offer outright. What a shame....whew......
PS: My mom hates my friend too
Thursday- The epiphany
Today I peeked out of my nest and saw the beautiful forest. I wanted to fly at that moment. The sun was beautiful in the morning sky. I was alone on the tree and saw the birds from another tree flying off. I joined them and it was nice. We saw rivers and mountains in our flight. The new birds are so warm and I spent the night with them on the topmost branch of a new tree. They were all excellent mates and I am sure I will bear good children like me.
PS: I can’t see mom. Can someone tell me where it is (but please don’t bring it here)??
Friday- Memories
I saw the wily bird today when I was with my new friends. It looked so nice. Though I am now in a different tree it greeted me. It is so nice of it to have remembered me after 2 days .I hope it will meet someone as good as me and will end up on a tree as high as mine. As I was in the middle of procreation I didn’t ask it about my neighbors in the old tree.
PS: I laid 20 eggs today. I ate 5 of them and my mates ate 5. I will groom the rest like the way my mother groomed me, truly in the prudish way.
Saturday- The death
I felt weak today, but I flew to my old nest. I did not see my friend there. I was so eager to tell it about my new mates. I talked to all the birds, I avoided 5 days ago. They are all so good mannered. I went to see my mom, but it is dead. I saw the beautiful evening sun, and knew how foolish I was to scorn it on the day I was born. Then I flew to my new home where I saw my mates all dead and my children trying to open their eyes. I flew to the river to drink water when suddenly I felt my wings were powerless. Before I fell into the river, to its depths forever, I saw my reflection for the first and last time. It said to me ‘My name is women. My opinions are as strong as a bamboo. It will never break. But I am flexible. I can bend as much as I like. My ethics are for sale. I live for a week and lie for 7 days. Half a week I play a victim and the rest I use to create victims. Help me from you, who is about to tell the truth. Feed me with lies. Pamper me so that I can predate on you. My name is woman, and those who disrespect me are cursed to live in hell. ’
It was 10 years ago that I danced to the tunes of ‘Thriller’, infront of a big audience (My friends in college would die of heart attack if they hear this. If they know one thing for sure about me, then it would be the fact that I am a pathetic dancer), it hasn’t been much time since I nearly fell into a sewage tank of a plywood company when trying to get away from the watchman, not long since I nearly got arrested for drunken driving when the driver of the car tried to clean the window with his elbow forgetting the steering. How many tourists visiting Goa have visited the historical Calangute police station???How many of you know real life unnikuttans who asks their grandmothers at the age of 3 whether they did tubectomy(yes vinu this is the new story I got from your chorifyin past). And most importantly how many of you have the most wonderful cousins who are your best friends for more than 20 years.
1 The whistle
I saw Ranjith chettan(he occasionally gets angry when I call him Ranjith, so for once I am adding the chettan suffix ) for the first time as I can remember outside Trivandrum airport when I was 4. In the taxi back home I gave him a whistle and said it can stop buses, we have been friends since then. We have done all the crazy things in the world .Impersonating the characters of the cult movie ‘orkkapurathu’ was one of our favourite sport. This artform named ‘pottankali’ has been our family’s sport for decades. My favourite memory of Ranjith is when he was hit by cycle at night. All my elder cousins were quarrelling with the cycle driver when I suddenly noticed Ranjith’s absence. I looked all around but could not spot him. Finally I saw him searching for his mundu(dhoti) under the cycle tyre. He has religiously avoided mundu since then. All my wonderful summer vacations were with him. We played everything from cricket to ice hockey. Our summer vacation usually ended with pooram vedikettu when we would stay on top of the tallest tower in thrissur with Praveen (ranjith’s neighbour who too became my very close friend) to view the visual extravaganza from 3 in the morning. Once we got the top floor all for ourselves (because Praveen owned the place) on pooram day and we literally turned that place upside down. It was most memorable summer vacation .
2 The chori...
He used to be an anathema to me in the past. We used to fight for everything from mock wwf to getting a side seat in an autorickhshaw. The most irritating of all my cousins is a mellow cat these days. I have seen so many dramatic transformations in my life and from all the people who reinvented themselves to be more acceptable , the vibe I got was they prefer to be the old villain and tell f*** u to everyone. I am sure Vinu is frustrated to death to be the good Samaritan.
What should I say about my eldest nephew(who saw this world and its ways before his ammavan)???I don’t know when he started to pour into my serene life like a hailstorm and stand on my nerves like a bulldozer. He might be the first person to whom I would have addressed all the swear words. We were never good friends till we started practising pottankali(where we again fought to get the lead role.Incidentally ranjith always had a compromise putting him up as the lead). But destiny made us both engineers (think of the situation when worst enemies get stranded in a deserted island, they have to make peace to survive right???) forcing us to cooperate. But I took revenge by making him jealous of all the glossy stories involving women (which were all exaggerated and mostly concocted) in my college. Palakkad was so devoid of women that his unease and enthusiasm to my fake stories earned him the title KADI.
3 Appu(nothing describes him better)
How many of you are lucky enough to live the American pie series(the later and more bitchy ones). Think of the fourth part (the naked mile, especially the first scene), that is almost the story of appu. Almost all the hilarious things in that series have happened to this young man. This conclusion was proved time and again with strong evidentiary backing (instead of just word of mouth publicity). He is one person in our group whom we truly envy. His attitude and guts are ineffable. I can’t count the number of times he played the elder in our group. Appu never was the youngest or the novice in our group, he still guides us poor ignorant humans in an array of subjects. Most of his stories are more hilarious than the others, I mentioned here. But unfortunately I cant post it here. He was and remains to be an enigma for all of us.
If I write on about the fun we had as a group, it would soon outnumber the posts I have put in this blog. Each day we were together deserves to be called legendary (to borrow Barney’s dictionary) . Our relations were tested time and again by the fragilities of bigger family tensions. But we were lucky and strong that we survived. Sometimes God makes gifts for you even before you are born. My parents, my sister are among those gifts. I am lucky to have one more gift in the form of my cousins (forgive the cliché, but its true).
