The Mess in My Room

A swarm of newspapers strewn wantonly, a heap of footwear that has accumulated over a week - slippers, stilettos and sneakers, so-called elitist business magazines sprawled on the floor - unread. Three travel bags partially unpacked, or partially packed should I say? Huge heaps of clothes on the chair, on the bed and in the cupboard whose doors haven't been shut in weeks. The medicine box lies astray on the bedside table with its lid in some other corner, the multi-vitamins and antacids scattered in disarray. The bucket in the way prevents the door from opening wide, the toiletries lounge all across the length of the room, everywhere except in the basket they're usually kept in. The pillows and the comforter seem like they have fallen on top of each other after a wrestling bout. Of the three mattresses on the bed, one has almost slipped down. The dustbin is not visible under the million scraps of paper and chocolate wrappers it holds. All this and a pleasant zephyr welcomes me to a room that is supposed to be my home. My abode. This cubby hole which is my own. Where I can come back whenever I want and just be. No judgements, no permissions, no pleasing anybody, no social conventions. Just I, me and myself in our world, with our whims.

I create the mess and I clean it. I live in it, and it thrives with me. My mind creates the chaos, and I try to de-clutter. It is not lethargy of the body, but of the mind that does this. Day in and day out, I stare at the hodgepodge litter around me. It is no different from the state of my mind. Maybe that is why, it prevails, for longer than it should. I don't want it to, but it does. In spirit and in being. However, nothing in life is permanent, change being the only constant. Ups are followed by downs, and sunsets by sunrise. This mess too shall clear and it won't require the Labours of Hercules to do it. But as every cycle in Nature has its life cycle, I believe this one does too. In the hope that a spic and span room too awaits to house its occupant in peace, I begin to clean up.

~

Lachrymose Musings

You don’t know why you do it. It’s only meant to hurt. A kind of pain that is neither easy to express in words nor easy to bear. The after-thought lingers, of what could be. Of what you wanted it to be. Of the memories, of the times. You live in two worlds – looking happy in one and actually lonely in the other.

Self-tormenting has become a habit it seems. Every little reminiscent fragment is precious. It brings back so many happy memories. One more pain inducing than the other. With the lull that stays within, you promise yourself never to go back the same alley. But the promise is meant to be broken, not once but each time. It is a cord that refuses to break. A bond that refuses to weaken. A dent that refuses to be mended. A crack that can never be fixed. You know you will go back; you want to. It kills you on the inside, but you have grown used to that pricking of the wound. It just refuses to heal, and you personally are of no particular help anyway. There are no regrets in life, only longing. And yearning. And of course, the refusal to move on. A sour conflict between the heart and the mind, resulting in heartache and then headache!

Overcome with sweet melancholy, you wish it never happened. Why did it, if it was never meant to be? Why leave behind something in your heart forever when it's not going to remain in your life at all? Anguished and desolate, you sleep over it. Loneliness is your constant companion. Oh heartbreak, you wretched thing!

~

Awaiting a New Dawn

N.B. : Sending out greetings to all natives of India, Congo, Bahrain and South Korea on their independence day, before I unleash an acerbic tongue.

The past couple of weeks have evoked the feeling of nationalism among most Indians across the globe. Television channels, print media, social media, shop windows, malls and all other means of mass reach around us adopted the patriotic theme for this fortnight. The omnipresent tricolors may be a great change from the usual for the creative minds that design the signage. I only wish the patriotic spirit of this country was as ubiquitous as the colour scheme that springs to life in the months of January and August.

On the one hand we glorify our freedom fighters, the political leaders and businessmen who shaped the fate of India many years ago. We recall their contributions on a couple of specific days in the year, and hand out little mementos to their family or probably run a few snippets of clippings on air. Simultaneously, on the other hand, we have riots erupting in various parts of the country. Women being molested by mobs. Village heads beheading young couples in the name of honour killing. A castrated government shying away from demanding the release of a hapless PoW from our neighbouring country.

We have no idea where the economy is headed. An active union minister is suddenly granted the position of the head of the state, and an otherwise incompetent nincompoop replaces him. And this is one of the most crucial portfolios we are juggling around by the way. Why are we paying so much of tax? And where is the promised upliftment and development? Why are the masses famished? What happens to all the welfare funds? Why do RTI activists meet with mysterious gruesome ends? 

An Anna Hazare raises his voice against corruption and in turn faces ridiculous allegations which eventually dilute his entire movement and blur his vision. We pay a hefty education cess and thousands of government schools are only empty structures with false names on their roll; a way to extract official funds. Politicians are shamelessly fleecing the public in all ways possible. A brash woman holds an entire state at ransom. Not very far away, another state head alleges his own political ally of being a radical extremist. What is it if not a mockery of the world's largest democracy?

As a nation we have lost the essence of unity, dignity, honesty, respect and integrity. Since we were officially declared independent by our former rulers, we observe the rituals on the 15th of August. However, a little introspection will put us to shame. Not getting into too much detail at the moment, but I will leave you with a little food for thought. The recent London Olympic furore about the 6 medals that came home is proof enough of our shoddy system in place. 65 years of independence we celebrate and 6 medals - no gold, mind you - leaves us awestruck. This is what the true Indian mindset is. Being servile. A certain Pandit somebody, who is credited to being the architect of 'modern' India, in reality only laid the foundation of a meek Indian. A feeble individual who harasses anybody who is slightly less powerful than him but will never once retaliate when being oppressed. The kind of reaction we saw from our government when we were ruthlessly attacked by terrorists many a time only substantiates this.

In a country where one cannot expect to get any sort of official (read: government related) work without paying bribe, where educated people struggle to get their names on the electoral roll, where votes are bought by distributing liquor bottles, where the government just does not care for the people it represents, a complete sense of apathy prevails and the poor common man struggles to make ends meet, it is still a long way before we can justify our Independence day celebrations. 

 - A Disappointed Indian

The Day We Walked

Sitting on a cane chair at a roadside shack off MH SH 248 we waited for cold coffee while warding off a million houseflies that hovered around and over us. The day was overcast, and had been so for the past entire week. An impulsive trip had been planned 20 minutes back to rush some 35 kilometers away, just for the kick of it; and just as instantaneously the ad hoc plan had gone kaput - thanks to the ill provided for transport facility. Now we were cooling off the adrenaline rush.

The cancelled trip, however, did not dampen our spirits. It seemed to be a day of impulses. We picked up our glasses of cold coffee and set out on a walk to the lake which was 2 kilometers in the opposite direction of our earlier planned getaway. The serene weather, the lush greenery all around and our restlessness were enough to trigger an aimless walk. Balancing on the edge of the state highway, getting out of the way of speeding state transport buses and bullock carts alike and simultaneously avoiding falling into the muddy puddles and bushes we moved on. 

The bluish grey sky blended amazingly well with the green fields. The horizon was breathtakingly picturesque, and formed a brilliant backdrop against a tiny thatch-roofed hut by a sugarcane field. The Master painter had done a laudable job on the canvas that evening. That sweet smell of wet mud, that gentle zephyr. The cattle being herded back to their farms and their little ones scampering around. The atmosphere seemed to just pull you in. It was a rendezvous with Nature. Most unusual, most unexpected and very beautiful.

We kept walking without any track of time. Also, got a bucket load of rain water splashed on us by a wild four-wheeled crusader. The sheer oddity of our wandering added a sense of mystery and adventure. What were we? Just a few pairs of traipsing feet. A few pairs of pattering feet that knew not where to go, but went on nevertheless. A few pairs of meandering feet that were discovering a strange calmness out of nowhere. Just one of those few instances that reiterate that the best things in life are not things at all.

~

Shall We Dance?

"There is a bit of insanity in dancing that does everybody a great deal of good."
~ 

Edwin Denby

It doesn't always take alcohol to get you high. Spirit, of a different nature, can do it just as well. Loud music and dim lights work in my case. A current passes through the nerves, and I unknowingly begin to jig. The crowd going crazy, the music getting louder and the disco lights blinking wildly is the perfect concoction for losing it completely! You can dance like no one's watching, quite literally. Who said you must learn to dance? We are born with an innate ability to react to the rhythm of music.

Hours pass away in a jiffy. Before you know, you've been on the dance floor all night long. If not for the sunrise, you wouldn't really notice.Your clothes are drenched. Your hair is mangled. But who cares! It's only when you stop that you realise your feet are sore. Your neck is stiffer than a ramrod, thanks to all that head banging. The back hurts no less, and not to forget the legs! But it's totally worth it. It's your feet that move, it's your soul they lift. It is a liberation from inhibitions, a shedding of reservations. And as Lord George Gordon Byron aptly put it,

"On with the dance! Let joy be unconfined; 

No sleep till morn, when youth and pleasure meet, 

To chase the glowing hours with flying feet."

The bed seldom looks as welcoming and the quilt as cozy as it does after a frenetic dance session. You are bound to fall asleep in a matter of minutes. For sleep comes easy to a content and happy mind, no matter how tired the body is. Next morning you will wake up with a rigid body, and a mind that awaits the next opportunity to let your hair down.

Shopping Diaries: That Compulsive Impulse

You go out for lunch or perhaps a movie; and spot some random store on the way, or perhaps one that was not even in the way of your destination. You realise there is still some time before you are due to meet your friends. So you slip into the random store and look around. Most of the things do not interest you. Having scanned the place in about 35 seconds, you decide to leave. Just then, with no prior indication whatsoever of its mischievous intentions, it leaps on you. You don’t know where it came from, and more importantly why. It just felt like, so it did. Now all you can do is comply. A huge round of applause for that impulse to shop!

You spot a pair of cute lavender coloured socks. What's the harm in checking them out, right? Turn them over twice and they appear cuter. That's what you've always wanted! Sold. You turn and you are eye to eye with a beautiful handbag. How on earth did your initial scan miss that? So glad you stayed for a second look. You pick that bag and examine it. You look around for an alternative, for want of choice. Lo and behold, there are four! The storekeeper is summoned. She is the makeshift hook bar now, with three bags on display. One on self. Comparing and contrasting the choices in the mirror. You tell yourself to pick one. You like three. We agree on two.

Out of the random store in a matter of 12 minutes. Perfectly in time for the date, with the shopping neatly stashed away. It's a secret best kept to you. For it's euphoric only for you. Drat that impulse I say!

~

Chug Along

After an entire year, I thought it would feel different. On the contrary, I seemed to pick up from exactly where I had left it. It was homecoming no doubt. I was back home in the real sense, chugging along in a local train. Exactly after one year.

My subconscious self seemed to take charge the minute I stepped across the threshold of the station. My feet knew where to head. I didn't even need to look around. My reflexes were still attuned to the system. Only, the Western Railways have shifted the ticket counter at Andheri station, so I had to use the thumb rule - follow the crowd! The Western Railways have, in their quest to modernise and thus improve the infrastructure, brought in a few changes here and there. For the better, I'd say. In a regular commuter's signature style, I acted smart. Skipped the ticket queue, bought coupons and headed toward the Coupon Vending Machine (CVM), known as 'punching machine' in common parlance. In retrospect, I feel the latter is a more appropriate term because what the machine actually does is stamp your ticket coupons. It is not a vending machine.

I felt a strange surge of energy abound within. In a jiffy I reached the foot over bridge and was on my way to the platform. Seemed like the good old days were back. The same mad rush all around. The heat, the sweat, the dust. Indifferent faces, scurrying feet. Nudging, pushing, cursing. Sweet memories, may I call them?

In a couple of minutes the train arrived; needlessly but out of habit the women lunged forward trying to get in first. (I do not travel in the general compartment, as a rule.) Twenty of them - it was a lean hour- at the same time. No big deal really. I've dealt with more than fifty at a time in my heyday, and I'm absolutely confident of repeating the feat now. It's just that I have more comfortable alternatives at my disposal these days. However, in a city like Bombay you have to give it to the local trains for their unmatched speed and convenience, not to mention the economy. It is not for nothing that the local trains are the lifeline of the commercial capital of this country. It would not be an exaggeration to say that the city survives on them. I owe my graduation to them, by the way. The crowd can be intimidating initially. Okay, that was putting it very mildly. The peak hour crowd can give you fits, make you numb; you may even pass out. Totally depends upon your mental fortitude. I was dumbstruck, and had sweaty palms on my first day. But you get used to it in no time. You push, you tug, you swear. You travel, you live. You thrive, you relish.

~

Atta Boy!

"It is a man's own mind, not his enemy or foe, that lures him to evil ways."

~
Buddha

Mother Nature was at her creative best when she went about creating the world. Mountains, plains, rivers, hills and oceans. Trees, animals, birds, fish and butterflies. The Sun, moon, sky, stars and space. But one day she made a mistake. A big mistake. A mistake bigger than even the dinosaurs. She created what she thought would be her master piece - Man. She couldn't be more mistaken.

Man was her favourite of all creations so far. She fondly crafted him to be the most delicate and superior among all beings. She blessed him with supreme intelligence, and an upright spine. She gave him the rare gift of speech. She caressed him like a spoilt child. Little did she know that she was cradling a Frankenstein, for she failed to curb his selfishness.

As time passed, Man honed his skills. He further developed his intelligence and created his own little world. He met his basic needs with the help of other creatures. He depended on trees and animals for his food because he did not have the ability to make his own, as well as for clothing and shelter because his skin was way too delicate to endure the lashes of changing weather. He was Nature's favourite creation, and the most feeble. No other animal can clothe itself or decorate its house with the remains of a human being, can it?

Soon Man discovered the buried treasures within the heart of the earth. He indiscriminately exhumed the same and used them to operate the gadgets that he had invented to make his life even more comfortable. He created tools and equipment that would make his life more luxurious. With those he cut down trees to make way for 'civilisation'. The trees in the forests were replaced by concrete jungles that Man called cities. He wanted more space to satiate his greed for land. So he ushered all other animals and birds into enclosures. He glorified his bullying by calling them reserves and sanctuaries. Man went to these reserves when he pleased and poached the animals that lived there. He used their skin, claws, teeth, horns, bones and other body parts for absolutely wasteful purposes. When he could no longer push animals aside, he warred with other men to grab their land. He was the centre of his own world and failed to see that land was nature's gift to all living beings as were all other things that he plundered.

Man created a nuisance called money, which became the basis of all his misdeeds. He exploited Nature and extracted money from the other men for doing so. This eventually created a vicious cycle of unending exploitation of natural resources and his fellow human beings. Mother Nature hoped that maybe her spoilt child would cease to be so callous about her. But that was not to be.

Today, there are sparse forest covers remaining, and a good number of species of animals are extinct. Huge amounts of carbon dioxide is emitted every hour into the atmosphere which is depleting the ozone layer. The poles are melting. This phenomenon is also glorified by Man under a term called Global Warming.

He is doing a lot to curb this Global Warming - a thing that he solely caused - by monitoring the carbon emissions and trading them under the label of carbon credits around the world, creating environment friendly things that cost a hell lot of money, engaging people in social activities trying to spread awareness about the ills of animal poaching, consequently asking them to donate money for the cause. He also pastes sheets of paper wherever he can that say, "Save Paper, Trees are Precious!"
~

Diversified We Are

That India is diversified yet united was an overused phrase, and I presume still is, in school books that attempt to impart moral science and value education to little students. Most books say that being such a huge country with people living in all directions, speaking different languages, the difference in lifestyle, eating habits, attire and the likes, Indians are still a united people. And thus follows, 'Unity in Diversity' - a hackneyed phrase that seems to be the definition of the country's character. No doubt it sounds inspiring. But the little students pouring over these books come face to face with reality when they really meet their diverse compatriots.

On more than one occasion, I have been told by natives of South India that I was one of the few non-South Indians they had come across who actually knew the difference and acknowledged the presence of four different states in the southern part of India. The appreciation was genuine and there was hint of a little respect. I did not think it was a matter of pride. I only thought I was aware of the diversity that existed in my country.

Not being aware of a certain thing is one thing, not wanting to get rid of your ignorance is fatal. I chanced to be a part of a rather unfortunate conversation once. I call it unfortunate because there I was listening to a harrowed guy trying to explain to a silly fellow that the former was not a Madrasi but a native of Karnataka, and that the two things were completely different. It was arduous effort on the part of the harrowed guy. He began with the basics, telling the moron that there were four states that comprised south India. He explained that all the four states had a different language each. He went on to clarify that in Karnataka people spoke Kannada in some parts, and Tullu in a particular belt. Then he declared that he was a Tullu-speaking native of Karnataka. The harrowed guy looked content with his effort. The silly one had a sillier expression on his face. All he said was, "Yeah sure. But in the end you all are the same. Madrasis right?" My jaw dropped to the floor. Took me a jack to bring it back. Here was a guy who was not just ignorant, but even refused to accept facts that would only make him wiser. His outright insensitivity left me flabbergasted.

I could relate to the harrowed guy because I've met people who called me a Punjabi. On being corrected that I was a Bihari not a Punjabi they said they thought that all North Indians were Punjabis. What was the difference anyway? At other times I have tried in vain to tell people that Uttar Pradesh and Bihar are completely different states, and so are the natives of the respective states. It is really not cool to call every North Indian a 'bhaiya'. Retards have circulated this misnomer because natives from Uttar Pradesh generally refer to people as 'bhaiya' which is a term of respect for an elder brother. Obviously they don't know the logic. They are retards, remember? All attempts at trying to clarify your nativity are met with weird reactions here. Some don't want to believe you. Most don't care. That Orissa is different from West Bengal is not a big deal. You could be a Bangladeshi for all it's worth! 

I am surprised at the multitude of mentally deranged people in this country. I call this process of mindlessly using an inappropriate term to describe a vast community blanketing. We do this with foreigners as well. Every fair skinned guy is an 'angrez' (British) or an American at the most. And all dark skinned ones are Africans. I can't even imagine how our North-Eastern compatriots must feel. Being called Chinese all the time, or perhaps Nepali, in your own country is not a nice thing. It's a fact that scores of people will not be able to differentiate between a Chinese, a Malaysian, a Thai, a Mongol and a North-East Indian just by looking at them. But did they make an effort to at least find out? Perhaps not, because it doesn't matter until you face it. We are united in our ignorance, and isn't that a great thing! Tell me which book gives this real picture of 'unity in diversity' to our children?

~

Look At It From The Other Side

Aamir Khan's initiative called Satyameva Jayate is a unique and thoughtful one. We could also call it the need of the hour, seeing the sorry social scenario in the world's largest, greatest democracy. No doubt Satyameva Jayate brings to light some the most disgusting and gruesome social evils in India, but it's not difficult to sense the diplomatic tone of the show when it comes to talking about the absolute failure of the governing bodies in tackling these issues.

Indians believe that the people who are a part of the government are people in 'power', our rulers. We first need to tell ourselves that those in the government are 'people's representatives'; which means they have been appointed by a majority of the voting population to serve the populace and not to rule it. We gave up the 'raja-rank' system in 1947. So Mr. Khan and team please stop appeasing the government and call a spade a spade when you need to. Like you took in the chief of MCI today, you have a right to take a dig at the government as well. But then again I know there is a possibility that you could be victimised. The 'people in power' have with them all means to sabotage the well being and peace of mind of whistle blowers in this country.

This initiative will definitely demonstrate the dilapidated state of Indian society. The show can expect to run forever taking into account the oh-so-many social problems that we are infested with. Radio jockeys will incessantly discuss the show and gloat about what a great person Aamir Khan is and how this 'cause' justifies his exorbitant per episode fee. Common people will have something to watch on Sunday mornings. The aggrieved who come to the show each week will have a vent for their agonies. But where is the change we were promised? 

One prerequisite for the 'change' we want is a change in the common man's outlook to shed off the retrogressive traditions that pave the way of people's lives. But is that going to happen? I guess not. Why would someone give up the 'values' their ancestors passed on to them just because some popular guy on TV tells them to? As one bad fish spoils the entire pond, a few people will keep up the various ill deeds in society. The only difference is that in a humongous population of 1.2 billion, a 'few people' will be a figure that could outnumber the entire population of an average east European country.

~