The Magic Quill

Amaar XL

2009-12-24T23:15:00.006+05:30

I was on my way to the city of joy, when a wheel like logo on a black T shirt caught my eye at the Chennai airport. And then I heard some familiar course names. And then some noise and chatter. And then some committee names. And then some talk about nuns and monks. Unmistakably XL.

One woman and the rest men - some salt and pepper, some balding. I wondered when they might have passed out of XL. Cries of excitement, pats on the back, old jokes, tears from laughing hard, complaints about old age, worrying about children, disucssing old crushes and bad behaviour on campus...

I have never actually missed XL. However, watching them actually made me think - maybe I have never actually found the time to miss XL. I landed in the Kolkata airport -it was like homecoming! That sad airport, the same laaaame shops that sell terrible burgers at unbelievable prices, that rickety Airtel stall where I finished my MCCD assignement, long queues at the pre paid taxi counter, Ahalya and I straining to listen to movie dialogues in an airport that had the sights and sounds of a railway station - the memories came rushing back, and with it a warmth that I hadn't felt in a long time.

Such is life...

2009-11-27T11:23:00.002+05:30

I took longer than usual at breakfast yesterday. I have become a little serious in my battle against the bulge – I now have the K Diet for breakfast – which goes down my throat after a bit of a battle with my taste buds. I mentally made a note on how I should blog about how useless facebook is. I quickly scanned the paper. I turned to page 7. I couldn’t swallow anymore. The reaction was instinctive. My throat became dry, my eyes moist and my hands cold. I don’t know how well I can capture the avalanche of emotions – a sense of guilt, anger, sadness, fear and helplessness all together. Check this ad.

Rewind. It seems like yesterday – I was looking through a 1500 line excel sheet when I heard of my friend’s loss in the Mumbai siege. No – she wasn’t even my friend – just an acquaintance – my senior at XL. I was stumped. A barrage of calls followed. One of my best friends had just finished a consulting project with the Taj and stepped out before the pandemonium. I remember being numbed for a while. How close was that?

Somehow, such incidents become real when it impacts the near and dear. For instance the Tsunami – another buddy of mine bore broken bones while holidaying on the shores of Mahabalipuram. I am glad she survived to tell the tale.

I wanted to write about this yesterday, but I was just too disturbed to be able to think coherently.

The candles have been lit, tributes have been paid, the martyrs have been remembered with reverence, and issues have been debated - some good seems to be coming out of it. But it is difficult to deal with the bitter truth - some questions will remain unanswered, some scars may not heal and some souls can never be comforted.

And the chilling fact that made me choke over breakfast is that life just goes on despite it all. Such is life.

Behind the lens

2009-11-09T13:55:00.002+05:30

Colours have always fascinated me. The happy, the dreary, the simple, the flashy, the earthy, the bold. Maybe that’s why I took to painting. And maybe that’s why I am drawn to photography.

I look pathetic in photos and I am supremely unphotogenic. The term “Photographer” conjures up images of those grumpy guys behind cameras in studios where I go to get my passport size photos clicked. With all due respect to their quest for perfection, they are the most irritating people I have come across. A million instructions in a fraction of a second – Recude the width of your smile, tuck your face, lower your eyebrow, tilt your head, don’t show all your teeth… OMG – I cannot coordinate so many muscles at once! And the result is that I end up looking in between retarded and constipated in all my photos!

My perception of photography changed when I went to XL. Silly Cat gave portrait photography a completely new meaning! Broken Knee has a way with pictures - a landscape specialist if I might call it that? Totally inspired by these stalwarts, I took my first lessons during the Blore trip!

The amount of technical knowledge that I possess about photography is nothing to be proud of. I partially remember what my high school physics text book had to say about this marvelous gadget. I don’t know what shutter speeds, aperture sizes etc. can do, and I use the word “expose” with very little tact. But I do know that I have an eye for the unusual and make queer observations. I am just hoping I will be able to learn the art of capturing it.

I am so kicked with all the FB responses on the Oktoberfest weekend photos. And of course, one always needs that anchor to bring gloating spirits back to earth. Mine was Broken Knee who thought my photos were “just about average” - Thanks. Silly Cat, thanks for painstakingly answering my questions – I can get unctrollable when I start asking why, and more so when I am high on chocolate :) Thanks - all my photo subjects – Shrek, Supergirl, Rockstar, Jade and Saji who complied with my million requests and successfully endured the weekend with me!

I have been doing a lot of online photography lessons reading and I figured that I need a good camera. All you pundits out there – any suggestions?

2 States ?

2009-10-30T13:19:00.001+05:30

I was killing time in my favourite haunt – Landmark. Just as I stepped in, a sea of red blinded my eyes – scores of copies of Chetan Bhagat’s 2 States stacked up. I have never been a fan of Chetan Bhagat. And have often been ridiculed for not being able to enjoy his work. I always thought he had it easy and rode on the wave of his pedigree and his following was attributed to the sheer vicariousness of situations described in his book!

I had over an hour to kill and I needed a light read. I have taxed my brains far too much in the past two months – taking one tough decision after another to be able to process and digest anything heavier than Tinkle! Hmmm 95 bucks… Chetan Bhagat – would neither hurt my brains nor my pocket.

And boy! I was totally swept away by the book! I finished it in one sitting! Needless to say, I am in love with the way he writes! How did such a sea change of perception happen? The simplicity in language, the truth in his writing swept me away. Or maybe it is just the familiarity of the situations that he has described that tugged at my heartstrings!

I probably have an image of being a staunch Chennaiite. On the contrary, I have never known myself to be a regionalist. This perception stems more from the fact that I tend to get protective of my land when it receives more than its share of unnecessary flak. Recently, courtesies to all my friends who have more than reluctantly moved to Chennai, I have had much interaction and rationalization regarding the stereotypical image that the city has and have been able to look at the city through the eyes of struggling men and women who have to grapple with everyday issues of settling into the city.

Well, I don’t want to stir the hornet’s nest by discussing the details of all the altercations I have had in this regard, but I do know that I have come a long way in terms of being able to laugh at the jokes on tam brahms or my land. I guess all the difference is in the sensitivity of the portrayal. That is one of the reasons why I fell in love with the book – no complaints, no judgments, just a mere elucidation of events and a puppy dog display of feelings. Am I normally this flipped by such stuff or is it just my arbit mood swing at work again? Two states ???!!!

Makeover!

2009-10-28T12:19:00.001+05:30

It has been over a year since I travelled by the Shatabdi between Singaara Chennai and Bengaluru. As I hurriedly walked along platform 2A to board the Shatabdi, its new sleek look with steel coloured body caught my eye. I remember dismissing it off as a superficial, cosmetic indulgence of no consequence and braced my self to endure a 5 hour journey of cramped leg space, crying babies and if my luck was rotten, a steady AC blast to irritate my sensitive sinuses.

I was stumped when I got into my coach. I stood at the doorway with dropped jaws. The huge glass windows reminded me of a Kajol – Shah Rukh sequence from DDLJ – only that the scene through the glass was not that scenic. As I kept thinking of one random movie song after another, I was subconsciously yanking at the door – which for some strange reason refused to open.

An exasperated gentleman tapped me on my shoulder and sadly shook his head from side to side and showed me a big bright green sign that said “Slide to open”. He was a sure shot middle management type guy – suit, laptop, blackberry… and he gave me a look that said – “These village girls…” I was too consumed by the redone interiors of the train to process his look-down-upon-you attitude. I stepped into the coach and walked slowly – absorbing the swanky interiors – jaw still dropped, so much so I caused a traffic jam of sorts.

The upholstery is now a pleasant sea green with some super soft felt kind of fabric as against the drab grey earlier, the storage space is a kickass see through plastic slab fitted with reading lights, no more musty cloth curtains – there are now some awesome pull down screens, the leg space feels like I am flying business class and the leg rests have been placed more intelligently. I kept playing with the reading lights, only to corroborate the middle mgmt guy’s impression of me! And yeah – the AC ducts are now distributed evenly through the length of the train and I did not have to do through my SOP for fighting cold.

As I settled in, I was handed out a newspaper - characteristic salmon pink with my company’s name splashed on it that made me smile with pride. And much to Mr. Middle mgmt’s surprise, I actually read the paper!

I slept like a baby, read a great book and knew that a great weekend lay ahead of me. Could it be more perfect?

Back after the hiatus!

2009-10-21T15:21:00.002+05:30

An analysis of my writing trends throws up some weird facts. I write when I am at the extremities of my moods – anger, depression, hurt, betrayal. Or then I write when I am terribly bored, and interestingly all my boring day writing has been during all my inductions!

Every time I write and discover the joys of it, I keep telling myself that I will stay in touch with myself, the world around me, my opinion of events - by writing regularly… Not so much to send out a message to the world. I don’t think anybody has the time or the interest to read some inconsequential account of thoughts. It is just for closure - I think a lot - and being able to crystallize my thoughts is like achieving closure for all the randomness that goes through my brains. And yeah, just in case people have the time to read and comment, to engage in a debate. Or maybe just to gloat in blissful happiness with a good comment!

Well, I am hoping that with my association with a company in the print media space, the energy and creativity of all the brains around me will compel me to keep going!

Olympus in Wreck

2008-01-01T20:11:00.000+05:30

I remember the well in my garden,
Cradled by the ladies’ incessant babble,
While infants engaged in playful dabble.
Flowers bloomed by giggling streams,
Teasing boys and girls’ screams.
Angry waves broke like a wailing child on the shore,
Shells we picked till our feet went sore.
As dawn kissed the horizon,
The sand shimmered like the gold in the receding sun.
Purple turned the wide blue yonder,
“How far are the stars”, I used to wonder …

A familiar blare breaks my reverie,
Only to remind me that we would soon go down the pages of history.
My unassuming life is now in a quandary,
One of strife and disharmony.
The well still stands sturdy beyond my broken house,
No water - only blood does it douse.
Teasing boys are now armed men it seems,
Painful shrieks screen playful screams.
I still wander by the shore with fear,
For you never know when it is your turn here.
The waves thankfully still commensurate,
Just that the “shells” that I pick mis – mate.

Yet again dawn kisses the horizon,
While I wonder when death would oblige me.
Twinkling stars are overshadowed by
Puissant fireworks in the sky.
I have now learnt that the stars are not very near,
And it feels like I have lost somebody dear.
For they formed the only cloak of solace I could masquerade in,
I now stand fleeced despite having done no sin.

While I ponder about the ghastly animation of time,
I wait for my garden to be cleared off mines.
Screaming unheard, I cry in pain,
Although I know my efforts would go in vain –
Is there anybody who could wake me up and tell me it is all a dream?

The Garden of Eden

2007-12-26T22:01:00.001+05:30

In my Utopian world, all of a sudden,
Lo! and behold, Eve was in the garden of Eden.
From not very far came a lustrous dazzle,
That sent her into a motionless baffle.
For Adam came striding with all his glamour,
Much like her knight in shining armour.
Seconds past, minutes went,
Hours came and months they spent.
Laughing together, crying together,
As if they were made for each other.
Alas! Thunder struck and lightning fell,
For somebody did cast a spell.
Fiendishly did Satan hatch his plot,
For he killed two in a single swat.
Satanic verses soon did follow,
History involved wasn’t all that shallow.
Nevertheless it all seemed so mystic,
Amidst breaking love ever so cryptic.
As Eve built castles in the air,
She realized reality was so often unfair.
What seemed to her as platonic love, yet fired with passion,
Now reduced to a meager lopsided infatuation.
She thought she was amongst the privileged few,
To have been blessed with a quixotic beau.
She strongly knew love would reign,
But how often can reality she feign?
But there is one thing for certain I know,
Whatever happens she would never let go.
For all you know as Arians believe,
Miracles will play their part,
And a whole new life she will start.

Karma

2007-12-24T22:39:00.000+05:30

Ganesha says (TOI, December 23, 2007):
Aries: You will find that neither work nor recreation attracts or fulfills you. New values and concerns are far more vital. They will range from social and environmental causes to prayer and religion, to philosophy and idealism. All the gains you wish to make are in these spheres.

I generally do not take such prognostication seriously; I read it out of pure curiosity. However, I have noticed that more often than not, the auspicated messages are partly true if not in entirety. It is quite possible however, that this could at times, be the result of the “Confirmation Bias”. The very fact that there has been some prediction regarding one’s behavior could lead to forced cognition, and thereby the tendency to search for or interpret information in a way that confirms one's preconceptions about a particular way of thinking or being. is called Confirmation Bias. Well, that is beside the point.

It is interesting to note the coincidence (some might prefer to call it the vindication of the power of astrology) in the veracity of the predictions. We happened to have an interesting discussion in the class on Indian Philosophy for Leadership Excellence. We had a visiting professor from the University of Hawaii, who, true to his engineering background, has spent time and effort in making managerial models out of the Bhagavad Gita.

As per the Gita, Karma is determined by the actions of a person. Both good and bad deeds are stored like a balance sheet and determine the events in one’s future lives. One is born time and time again to face the consequences of one’s actions in previous lives. The Gita’s teachings reflect on how to stop this chain and free oneself from the cycle of birth and death.

“I am not well versed with the true meaning of Karma” would be an understatement. Nevertheless, I believe in Karma. However, I do not concur with the basic premise that the accumulation of good deeds is necessary to free oneself from the mundane cycle of existence. It seems to be that the attitude towards the very concept of life is riddled with negativism. The concept of God’s intervention in this is widely held to be an artificial construct of Hindu theism, which is a different ball game all together.

I would like to believe that Karma should function without external control. I love life; why would I want to accumulate good Karma and leave Earth? What will one do with the limitless possibilities of human talent if one does not walk the Earth? I am a workaholic of sorts and I cannot imagine not being occupied! What after Moksha?

I know this is a classic example of what students of Psychology call “Framing” (an inevitable process of selective influence over the individual's perception of the meanings attributed to words or phrases); but thanks to the innumerable episodes of Mahabharata and Ramayana that all of us have seen as children; I can picture myself dressed in glittering jewels and a hundred handmaids around me at my service. Of course, not to forget that people in the Heavens do not play basketball and do not watch Numbers and all the other wonderful things that we do as a part of the journey called “Life”.

I have never viewed Dharma and Karma differently, but I discovered how wrong I was. It was this “Cognitive Dissonance” (the uncomfortable tension that may result from having two conflicting thoughts at the same time, or from engaging in behavior that conflicts with one's beliefs) that led to the recital of this Holy Scripture to awake Arjun from his lull.

I can’t help but notice that the Bhagavad Gita is an El Dorado for those interested in the science of human behavior, as is obvious from my writing laden with terms from psychology.

It was also surprising to note how the teachings of the Gita stand in direct contradiction to the theories of Motivation that we learn as a part of our courses. There exists two kinds of Karma, Nishkama Karma and Sakama Karma. The former is where actions are performed as duties, without expecting any “fruit of labour” and the latter is where one is desirous of a result out of the Karma.

Most theories of motivation, ERG, Expectancy, Goal Setting, all focus on the rewards driving a particular action. In my opinion, all actions will result in Sakama Karma, directly or indirectly. In fact, Indian mythology is loaded with such examples. Most “tapases” were undertaken with the goal of seeing a particular God. Even the process of keeping a mental note of Karma is in effect Sakama, as one seeks to attain Moksha, which is the fruit of doing good karma. I wonder how a person can perform an action with no motive. This would translate to faith. There again – the paradox. The very word “faith” means that you know that there will be a good result out of performing a particular action based on some personal attachment to the object or person that drives the faith. So theoretically, I think Nishkama Karma can never exist.

I am aware that I am in no position to judge the Gita, but I just couldn’t resist the flow of thoughts! :P

PPO : comPlete Personality makeOver

2007-12-20T16:01:00.000+05:30

“PPO !!!” – the much awaited clarion call of any final year B School student. Embedded in these letters is a world of freedom – freedom from the mundane procedure of attending class, freedom from DCP, freedom from the gruel of the placement process, the welcome whiff of worry free FRAX… the list could go on.

However, my PPO has brought in its wake, something more than the relief factor – it is the desire to “actually” learn. It has been just one class into the sixth term of my course and its effect is so evident. For the first time, I sat in class, unperturbed about Lag Indicators (see, I am already using jargon that I learnt!!!) like division of marks, CQ, attendance, CP etc. Disappointed at an empty class, the professor requested a few of us to move to the much detested “first few benches” of class, and I hurriedly gathered my belongings to do so, till I was tugged back to my “roots” by a rather amused friend.

I am surprised at the spontaneity and innateness of the complete makeover of my learning orientations. For every single concept that the professor talked of today, I subconsciously mapped it with millions of examples that I have come across, my internship experience and other related concepts. The intense activity in my brain made me go dizzy. Rather than mentally making a note of the deadlines for assignment submissions, I made a note of the books that I had to read before I got out of XL. I know for a fact that no newspaper will go unread to the raddiwala this term. I have to get back to gymming and I have to learn a language in the next two months here.

As I reflect on this nebulous reincarnation of myself, I wonder – is this not supposed to be the essence of any learning system? The much harangued topic of discussion on the faulty system of Indian education flashed across my mind. For the first time, I actually knew what the word “learning value” meant. Was I not supposed to internalize this at the very beginning of my tryst with MBA? I remember the steely (seldom empty) resolves that I took in my initial euphoria of being admitted into the “Best School in Asia Pacific for HR”. I would not say they have all melted away, some of them have just been… well… redefined.

Varying interests, the discovery that actual outcomes of courses do not match expectations, the inherent human tendency to normalize one’s behavior with respect to environmental variables - all play their part.

Another eye opening incident was my recent participation in an inter B School event. I was appalled at the way some of the “top” B Schools in the country made their presentations - unprofessional would be an understatement. It was then that I realized how the courses that I arrogantly dismissed as “gassy” or “no learning value” contribute to the making of a well honed professional. The Rime of the Ancient Mariner rung in my ears, and I felt an albatross around my neck.

I know I am at the potential threat of being christened a Ghissu, nevertheless, no one can run away from the truth of the situation!

Shades

2007-10-06T23:32:00.000+05:30

We had a visitor one day. “Say hello to aunty,” my mum said. A lady with a huge Bindi obscuring her forehead sat comfortably on our new couch. The poor couch seemed to be screaming unheard, as if it were gasping for breath under the generous area she occupied. Almost as if she had read my mind, her eyes caught mine. Those blood shot eyes, evidently carelessly kohl lined, pored into mine. Her hair was tied into a huge bun excessively adorned with jasmine flowers.

She smiled, “Hello…” It was nightmarish! Her teeth were extremely sharp, a feature I could notice beyond the stubborn stains of the leaves she chewed from an ornate box in her hand. Her fat stubby hands and fingers were covered with gold bangles and innumerable rings that matched the chains on her hardly visible neck, resplendent in the sunlight that streamed through the window. Despite looking unkempt, she was opulence personified – in every way.

I hid my face in my mother’s pallu. “She is shy. She has much to learn…”, she said almost menacingly. “Don’t worry. I will take care of that.”

I did not want to go with her. I looked pleadingly at my mother. I wanted to stay in her arms. She said comfortingly, “Everything will be alright. Just remember – Never be scared.”

With a heavy heart, and an apparently heavy leg, I trudged noisily to the door. The lady gripped my tiny hand in hers and started towards the gate. I looked back at the window; my mum waved. The only comforting factor was that the lady did not smell as shabby as she looked. Maybe it was just the jasmine flowers…

We soon walked to a rather shady street in more ways than one. Dinghy houses skirted the narrow road and shabby men glanced knowingly at the lady. We stopped at a dark house. A dim light came on, almost as soon as we rang the doorbell, as if we were expected. A young girl directed us up a flight of stairs. I felt claustrophobic. I wondered how the lady would fit into the narrow way up. She just about managed.

Everything around me seemed surreal, like I feel now. Pictures of nude women and men in strange colours and shapes adorned the walls of the spiraling stairs. I finally entered a room. I was introduced to an old man. I was to call him “Sir”. The lady took leave. For some reason, my senses hit the panic button. A known devil is better than an unknown they say.

He grinned at me. “Sinister”, I thought. I sat timidly on a chair. He came menacingly towards me and stroked my cheek. As he did, suddenly he thrust it into my hand. “Feel it…”, he growled. Trembling, I took it. It was long and hard. “Feel the soft tip…”, he said, closing his eyes in blissful satisfaction. Involuntarily, tears rolled down my flushed face. “Now, now… don’t cry. I will teach you all that you need to know. To develop it beyond that - depends on your interest. This is an art, and you need practice; loads of it. And who better that me could do that?”, he asked, flashing the same old grin. “But there is one thing you must be clear about. You will take this further only out of your own volition. You are a free bird. This profession loses its beauty if one is forced into it. Take your first step today. Don’t be scared, no one is here to judge you. It is just you and me. You can show me all that you can do with this”, he said, his eyes glistening at the sight of what I held in my hand.

I still reminisce that day, that momentous occasion that changed the course of my life forever. I had made my choice of career; although no self respecting family back home would approve of it. It was not what “intelligent” girls would pursue. Nevertheless, as I know it now, my strongest career anchors are autonomy and lifestyle. What better career than this would satisfy my needs?

I still remember the first time I held you, ever so gingerly… I was scared. Making sure no one was watching, I gently stroked your the soft face dripping with water. I held you tight and decided to take the plunge... My world suddenly transformed; the white parchment was suddenly a riot of colours. I learnt to I tantalizingly mixed up the strokes – thin and gentle, broad and bold, flat…

I still cherish every scenic spot you took me to – the misty mountains, the serene lakeside, the inviting seaside, the resplendence of the otherwise decrepit lighthouse under the starry night sky… All the people we met – the young boy with the puppy, the woman with unfathomable sorrow in her yes, Mother Teresa, Che Guevera!!! Oh how I love those times…

We have had our shades of grey as well, I remember, as we walked down the snowy pathway, as we drank in the overwhelming beauty of the temple studded with intricate architecture…

But now I am trapped in the humdrum of everyday life, the life on an MBA… how I wish I could return to the free life of paints and brushes – the life of a painter, the life of an artist!

Furnunculus!

2007-07-08T19:13:00.001+05:30

Makes the victim's body break out in boils.

This is not the first time that I am the target of nasty comments by virtue of my sex, and this is not the first time it is happening on the basketball court. I have always been very tolerant of remarks and it has always worked – it invariably dies down. But today I reacted rather differently probably because the nature of abuse was quite different.

I come form an engineering college in Tamil Nadu where half the college thinks the girl is bad if she plays sports, a bitch if she is the sports secretary and a slut if she wears shorts while playing. I have been a forerunner as a subject of all three schools of thought. Having faced issues like that, I thought I was seasoned enough to handle any kind of comment, so much so Ratanjee was a cake walk.

What hit me today was the attitude towards women that men show. If I could conjure magic, I would have casted a Furnunculus! at them. A couple of local boys play in the XL court. Superb players, shallow morals. No sexually explicit abuse, but just the attitude that a woman cannot play as well as a man does. Lecherous onlookers or the spate of frustrated words have never swayed my concentration in the game. But when players on court throw attitude at your face that says. “Come you bitch, let’s see what you can do…” it hurts my ego. I hate to admit it, but it does. They had a little joke running amongst themselves, dangerously flirting with the limits of sexual abuse; the poor bastards thought I didn’t know Hindi. It might have been different had it been a girl who said it. I would have fought it out fair and square. But the “ghaati”ness (as adi would put it) of these local bastards intimidates me because I know that I just cannot do anything to prove my basketball skills against the physical prowess of a guy.

A Freudian slip, or parapraxis, is an error in speech, memory or physical action that is believed to be caused by the unconscious mind. I played a terrible game today… let every pass go, every basket was an air ball and I am supposed to be the basketball captain.

The healthy, mature ego translates the demands of both the id and the super-ego into terms which allow admission of them without destruction. This is constructive acceptance. But what happens when the ego breaks? A Freudian slip is it?

Expecto Patronum!

2007-05-18T20:18:00.001+05:30

"Patronus" is Latin for "protector".
The Patronus Charm. When literally translated, the phrase "Expecto Patronum" means, "I expect a guardian."

The recent move by the Karnataka Government to issue a ban on women working in night shifts has stirred up a hornet’s nest. This Patronus charm by the Government has the public divided as well. There are those few who are up in arms against a move they call retrograde. There are others who laud this move in the name of security for women. With the recent spate of untoward occurrences in this city, the latter argument does hold water. However, this issue far flung implications.

Bangalore is touted as the Indian Silicon Valley. One look at the infrastructure here and I can do nothing but laugh. The mention of the word Bangalore always conjured up pleasant images in my mind – Green, slow, lovely weather... But Alas! To look at Bengaluru that way now seems to be a pipe dream.

Thanks to my internship in Bangalore, I have realized one thing. The Bangalore beyond Brigade Road, Forum and all the other zillion malls is very different. A stark difference from the sophisticated, trendy, suave image it portrays.

It is ironical that many parts of this Silicon Valley is often plunged in absolute darkness. Although I live two minutes away from my work place, having to walk back home after work send shivers down my spine. There are a number of issues. In the pitch dark, you don’t know which pothole your leg is going to get into, you don’t know which vehicle is going to speed at you and leave you dead, you don’t know which freak is going to grab your wallet or even worse, attack you and keep up the notoriety this city is fast acquiring. All this if you are a man. Women, worry about protecting yourselves against maniacs who will reach out for you from a speeding auto or a bike apart from the long list.

Double jeopardy if you have to travel by auto. Why? The automen are so damn choosy about where they will drive you. Believe me or not, I had to ask 27 autos before I could finally get one from Cox Town to Safina Plaza, approximately five kilometers apart. Maybe the automen, like the IT crowd in the city like to earn big bucks. Surprisingly, NO. I had to hunt equally for an auto that would take me to Marathahalli – a one way trip from my place would cost you 85 – 100 bucks.

Alright, I thought of taking a bus. I had seen those posh red Volvos- automatic doors, low steps and good competition to the red buses in London. I quickly learned that they ply on very few routes. I have no issues traveling by the “normal” bus… just that I don’t know where they go to coz all the name boards are in Kannada. Strange, for an IT Hub.
It is quite unsettling for a first time dweller in Bangalore to figure out routes. Even a person with a good sense of direction would get lost in the maze of one ways in the city. I still travel nervously back from a dinner or a movie, clinging to the hope that the auto guy will drop me home, safe and sound, coz I have no clue whether he takes the right route. And I don’t want to let him know I don’t know the route either. So I sit with an unperturbed countenance and a knotted stomach!

I am not saying this does not happen in other cities. But Bangalore prides itself on being the IT hub and this certainly does not go well with the image. I lived in Bangalore as a kid. I always thought I would settle down in the Green City. This blog entry is a knee jerk reaction of sorts, probably, the Bangalore I have always known and the Bengaluru now are so disparate that it is too much of a rude shock for me to take.

Back to the gender curfew issue. As a woman, it is not possible for me to take a stand. If I say no, the next time I go to register a complaint at a police station, I can picture a few rude words and poking remarks from a frustrated official. If I say yes, what happens to the independence and career growth potential of a woman? Wouldn’t it be more like saying, “Oh God! I’m so scared of these goons, let me stay indoors and protect myself even if it means taking a hit at my promotion chances!” Wouldn’t it be more like succumbing to the big bad fellas?

It is easy to give case study solutions like, it is the responsibility of the employer to protect its employees. Things don’t work that way. No, I’m not being a pessimist, I’m just saying there is only so much that even an employer can do. If you are stuck with a maniac of a cab driver, well, at that point in time I’d probably say, “To hell with my promotion and job! I need to live a peaceful life!”

At the end of the day, the sad truth is that either way, women are stranded between the devil and the deep sea.

Rita Skeeter

2007-05-07T23:19:00.000+05:30

Daily Prophet writer who delights in revealing skewed truths to the world.
( Slightly modified to suit the context. Essence of the character of the person remains the same)

I read “Dial M for Murder, P for Perspective”. I was appalled at the attitude of the journalist that came forth in the article.

Raksha says, “Yes, if you ask me, he needs to do MORE time for abject stupidity, a pathetically irresponsible attitude to driving, and core disregard for life and property. Six months in a jail cell, I think, is fair. Six more maybe wouldn't have hurt either.”

My Lord, the epitome of fairness and justice, you have weighed a six months term against disregard for life, and yeah I forgot, maybe six more. How just! The dead must be turning in their graves listening to this!

And ma’am you need to get your facts right. There was no labourer sleeping sprawled on the road like you said, they were on the footpath. They were in their little, miserable, tin huts on the footpath, sleeping, at 3 a.m. in the morning when I suppose the road wouldn’t be bustling and busy. Google and you will find out.

You had some simple lessons to give the “Bleeding Hearts”. I have a lesson for the “Dumb Ducks”. Footpath is a place meant for human beings - Standing, walking and sadly in our country sleeping. Driving over a person on the footpath, more so when drunk, is just not acceptable. The onus of staying out of the way of a motorist is not that of a pedestrian on a footpath. It is quite the contrary.

The sarcasm and tone of your article indeed tells us how bad you feel for the deceased and their families. I’m quite sure you would have painted a very different picture of the same incident if it had been your favourite kitten or your puppy dog under the wheels.

I do feel bad for Alistair and his gang. A bunch of kids, a late night party, underage drinking, then driving and mowing down people… unfortunate maybe, but definitely punishable. The accused say it was a matter of bad luck and that it was a rude lesson. But we are talking about the “lives” of people here. Unlucky or not, they will have to grapple with the reality of being under the scanner for an unlawful act. Check this article.

I’m quite surprised CNN IBN still has this blog on its website. Knock Knock Rajdeep.

I am not debating about the fact whether Alistair’s act amounts to murder, but I am simply responding to the callous attitude of the author of this article who has made props out of homeless labourers in this ludicrous piece of writing.

There are a host of issues that could be questioned – negligence of duty by contractors, conditions of health and safety of contact labourers, underage drinking, drunken driving… But all the lady could do was to pick on the fact that the “people who have no home” were lying “sprawled across the road”. And even worse, be concerned about the shanties taking on a permanent structure on the road that was an erstwhile jogger's paradise! Any superlatives for the word callous? Please give them your lawn lady and then whine about “tear stained faces” and “bleeding hearts”.

Madam, you need to understand that you are responsible to the society because of your profession. You are entitled to your own view and freedom of expression. But if your freedom of speech misleads a layman who happens to read your blog, then it is not right, more so because you are a journalist and you hold a position which is likely to influence the way people think. Such irresponsibility on the part of a journalist is quite appalling. There is a world of difference between a tone that says, “Why isn’t anybody doing anything about homeless labourers?” and “What the hell are those people doing sleeping there?” Looks like a little public bashing would do your perspective a little good. I suppose it has, looking at the responses to your writing.

Apparate!

2007-05-03T14:37:00.001+05:30

“Appareo” is Latin for “to become visible”. This spell allows the spell caster to appear instantly in a given place. It is used in conjunction with Disapparate. The caster must Disapparate from one location in order to Apparate in another.

We made Mr. A.B. God. So Mr. A.B. and family decided to use their “Godly” powers to take lessons from Hogwarts and apparate to the sanctum sanctorum of Tirupati. Obviously they could use magic in muggle land because none of the poor souls there would question their ways and means, which was very convenient to the “Ministry” as well. Lo and Behold! The spell was cast and they swept into the temple without a crumple of the grandeur they adorned.

It is often said - before God we are all equally wise and equally foolish.
Looks we forgot to read ceteris paribus somewhere in between. On the condition that we are not bollywood stars, not people in high places, we are all equally wise and equally foolish before God.

The recent Tirupati episode of the star couple has touched a raw nerve of many a people. I found a short crisp response here. I want my share of taking a dig at them. I would have generally come down real harsh upon this episode, coz I simply detest her. But well, read on to find out why I will not…

Incidentally, I had a pitched discussion with a family friend of mine about the same issue. She was only quick to point out that the “special ticket” that most people buy at Tirupati falls in the same category as the Bacchan debacle. I took the Van Gogh’s ear for music approach and brushed it aside with some silly argument, but it really set me thinking.

My own spiritual belief system is not in the “highly evolved” category. I am most definitely not an atheist; I’m not exactly agnostic… I just pray. I pray when I feel like shedding some weight off my mind, I pray for my loved ones, I pray whenever an ambulance zips past me, my prayers include thanks as well. I even have a favourite God! – Ganesha. Probably because of my liking for elephants, his many artistic representations or maybe just his delicious kozhakattais (modaks in Hindi I think…)! However, I hardly know those grandma’s stories about Gods, Godesses and Asuras that a nice Tam Brahm girl would be expected to know. I don’t know what you call this kind of faith… well maybe it’s just “never bothered to think about it” kind of faith.

We are quick to point fingers at the rich and famous. Isn’t it equally an issue of ethics and inequality when we by pass the circumventions in the “normal queue” and jump to a “faster queue” to pray the same God? To me it doesn’t matter where I pray – Tirupati or the Krishnan kovil down the road.

Check this out. Oxford University Press describes a pilgrim as “A person who undertakes a long and arduous journey in order to worship at the shrine of a particular saint and to earn both spiritual and physical salvation. The greater the hardship and danger endured in making the journey (pilgrimage), the greater the eventual rewards were deemed to be.” Be it special ticket or Mr A.B. apparate techniques, if one is anywhere in the periphery of the definition of theist, then he/ she ought not to use money as a means to be able to see God quicker than another. It would end up like a “let’s get done with this fast” trip rather than “let’s be nearer to God” trip.
Such issues will always have justifications aplenty. A special ticket will always make it easier for the old grandmother on a wheel chair to fulfill her desire of taking her grand child to Tirupati… and so on.

Speaking of he/ she, I was wondering why Sabarimala does not permit women between to take the journey. Sabarimala is known to be a very liberal place, as in, people of all castes are allowed to take the journey, and so are Non Hindus. I stumbled upon a wonderful piece by Barkha Dutt on this issue here. And check this out too.

There are scores of temples which allow only certain sections of people to enter shrines. Read this. Brilliant debate. Make sure you read the comments and responses as well.
I’m not too sure about other religions and places of worship, but I came across this by Khushwant Singh.

Digressing a bit, I had a pretty bitter experience when I was in… maybe class 4. I went to Puttaparthi, and at that time, I didn’t even know whom I was going to see. There was a lady in front of a huge hall checking the attires of women entering the hall. I was wearing a pretty salwar kameez with a dupatta around my neck. And when my turn came, the lady barked, “Wear your dupatta properly”. I retorted indignantly, “Why? What’s not proper?” The b***h actually said, “You are not here for a fashion show. You don’t distract the people here. When foreigners themselves listen to us, what is your problem? It is because of rebels like you our country is in such a state”

I really didn’t understand what the b***h meant by saying “in such a state” and “people like you”. Does she mean to tell me that a woman would be responsible if some really sexually loose guy had lurid thoughts running in his mind? A guy who wants to think dirty will undress a woman in his mind however “well clothed” she is. Sorry men… but it is the truth. Till today I feel like lynching that b***h to death. Why on earth should the attires of people be checked anyway? All this pretence outside and we know how “dirty” the world of God – men is.

Back to the topic, as long as a person experiences the feeling he hopes to derive from being in front of God without any qualms, I guess it is ok. At the end of they day, it is a matter of personal choice.

All that I want to say is - we make a hue and cry when a person from tinsel town does not play by the rules. What about the everyday transgressions of morals that we normal mortals indulge in? Are we ready to face the truth?

Imperio!

2007-05-02T22:35:00.000+05:30

From the Latin "impero," meaning "to give orders, rule, hold sway," or "imperium," meaning "power to command, rule, control." The Imperius Curse. This is used to control the actions of another person, leaving that person at the mercy of the spell caster. The experience of being under the curse is described as a fantastic sense of release, until the victim starts to fight back. The curse can be fought and its hold broken, but many witches and wizards are unable to do so. Because of its very dangerous implications, the Imperius Curse is one of the three Unforgivable Curses. Use of this curse against another human being is punishable by a life sentence in Azkaban.

I was lazily turning the pages of a daily newspaper, my mind plotting my own last Potter story. I was rudely shaken when I read an outrageous piece on a daily newspaper. It read “Protestors want helmet rule scrapped”. How ridiculous! The first image that came to my mind was my Class VI science teacher screaming her lungs out… “Thisss isss verrrry rrrriddddiccculllloussss!!!” (DAV Girls school junta…. Should’ve guessed by now! ;) )

Just to satisfy my curiosity, I logged on to Indiastat.com only to find that the membership fee would cost me my internship stipend!! People with membership, look here to check out the accident stats – state wise, cause wise… the list is exhaustive.

The World report on road traffic injury prevention from WHO in 2004 documents facts clearly enough though. Look up the chapter on risk factors… To Quote,

“ Risk factors influencing crash severity:
Human tolerance factors
Inappropriate or excessive speed
Seat-belts and child restraints not used
Crash helmets not worn by users of two-wheeled vehicles
Roadside objects not crash protective
Insufficient vehicle crash protection for occupants and for those hit by vehicles
Presence of alcohol and other drugs”

“The non-use of seat-belts and child restraints more than doubles the risk of serious and fatal injury, as does the non-use of bicycle helmets. Similarly, the non-use of crash helmets by motorized two-wheeler users almost doubles their risk of serious or fatal head injury.”

That was way back in 2004 when the number of vehicles flooding the roads was definitely a smaller tsunami than it is now.

I always thought Stats was rubbish. I still declare that openly, despite being a manager in the making. Statistics can be so misleading at times. You never know base figures, constraints, assumptions, social / environmental variables etc… Throw these stats away. For the love of life, out of all common sense, isn’t it better to wear a helmet rather than have your skull split open and brain run over by some inebriated moron? Doesn’t common sense tell any nephrologist that prevention is better than cure? I thought that was the anthem of doctors world wide. Or am I so influenced by my education that it appears to be a potential, untapped channel of business for the health care industry? (How much case studies can skew your thinking!!! )

And to think of a “protest” for an issue like this…. Beats me! Are we under the Imperius Curse or what?

Wearing a helmet might prevent us from feeling the wind in our hair…no zipping past happening roads… no turning heads… no “macho” feeling… but friend, at the end of the day we’d rather live than gloat in fleeting pleasures.

I know helmets do not guarantee life. A gentle reminder: Accio Helmet does not work. So just wear the helmet - we might have just found ourselves a counter curse to Avada Kedavra.

Ennervate!

2007-05-02T17:16:00.001+05:30

Revives someone, especially someone who has had Stupefy cast on them.

I have hopped on to the blogging bandwagon finally!

Well, I have to confess that I have always been an anti blogger of sorts… I have always thought my writing and poems were personal and I didn’t want the whole wide world giving me a critical analysis of what I wrote (Of course under the assumption that people have the patience and time to read my blog! Why is there a sense of déjà vu?? PMA ??). It is a rather uneasy feeling when you know someone is reading your life, like an open book… well e-book!

However, I have discovered I can write beyond that and boy, I have been Ennervated or what?

I like the Harry Potter touch, you see. :)

This verse has been with me through my good times and bad, my “pillayar suzhi”, and God how I hate to admit it, this is written by “not – one – of – my – fave – authors” (Read Ayn Rand)… What an irony…

"In the name of the best within you, do not lose your knowledge that man's proper estate is an upright posture, an intransigent mind and a step that travels unlimited roads.

Do not let the fire go out, do not let the hero in your soul perish, in lonely frustration for the life you deserved, but have never been able to reach. Check your road and the nature of your battle. The kind of world you desired can be won, it exists, it is real, it is possible and it is yours. But to win requires total dedication.

Fight for the virtue of your pride. Fight with the radiant certainty and the absolute rectitude that yours is the battle for any achievement, any value, any grandeur, any goodness, any joy that has ever existed on this earth ... "

And yes… Disclaimers:

1. All the ranting on this site is purely a documented form of my arbit thoughts and does not hold any importance beyond that.
2. All the explanation for the titles of my posts have been lifted from :
http://www.mugglenet.com/info/other/spells.shtml

Yes Mr. Bagchi, it is in my blood now :)