The Freedom to be.....

The Freedom to be…….

There is no better way to celebrate Woman’s Day than letting us speak our mind and voice our feelings with strength and conviction. A woman by far, is the finest creation of God. She is an epitome of love and compassion. They are gifted with some real super powers as they never fail to impress in every role they play. Be it a homemaker or a career woman or the one balancing both home and work, women are multi-taskers. Not to boast about, have you ever seen a man preparing his presentations while keeping a tab on the pressure cooker whistles? A woman has powers that are hard to fathom. She can lift you up in a second and also bring you down in an instant. She might make you the happiest person in the world while she can also put you through real hell. A woman can love with all her heart and soul unless you press the bitch button.

Yes, I am proud to be born a woman. I sometimes amaze myself with my own strengths. At times, I carry heavy burdens and still spread happiness. I am capable of smiling when deep inside I feel like screaming. I am unpredictable. At times I cry when am happy and laugh when I have to hide my sadness. I am capable of giving unconditional love but also capable of pulling out my guns when required. At times am intriguing and a mystery to some around me. I can also be moody or nasty.  I am a loving daughter, caring sister, devoted wife and compassionate mother. I embrace my struggles and scars gracefully and not afraid to fix the things which do not work. I am proud to be UNAPOLOGETICALLY ME.

My dear girls, be yourself.  Be proud of your achievements and flaunt your feminism with style and elan. Stop being a scapegoat. Voice out your opinions and learn to say a no. Feminist Movements across the world might have won us gender equality as a right but sadly we still face gender discrimination in our day to day lives. This discrimination differs in its ways and kind.  For me , gender discrimination means not letting a woman lead a life which she desires for. Gender Equality is the freedom to be myself without being judged and criticized for my choices.

When I say that I am a feminist, it does not mean that I hate males and am unable to relate to them. Being a feminist does not mean that I am superior neither does it give me the right to demean a man. I still like to be treated as a lady and the feminist in me doesn’t get hurt while taking help from males. Feminism is all about equality and human rights, being given the choice to be.  Ideally, no human being should need society’s approval on his/her way of life. Feminism is not female dominance, it is breaking away of patriarchal convictions that limit a woman. For me feminism is mutuality, a respect towards each other’s preferences and ways of life.

 “Women should not drink and party”

“If you get raped, it will be your fault”

“One more promotion, I hope your boss is not getting lucky”

We hear one or other such hurting phrases in our day to day lives. But take it as  society’s accepted behavior towards us. We see women being insulted but never choose to raise our voice. It is not enough to simply talk about gender equality. One has to believe in it and work for it. We talk about gender equality, women empowerment and feminism in public platforms, but in reality we believe in different sets of acceptable behavior for different women at different times. We teach empowerment to our daughters but fail to teach our sons how to live with an empowered woman. 

One of the greatest problems lies in the fact that women themselves are governed by malice towards each other. My dear girls, if you are a female, it is stupid to be not on your side. Dare to stand up for yourself and your fellow women. Don’t judge, don’t criticize, don’t belittle each other. Let us be each other’s biggest strength. All it takes is a moment of courage and strength to stand up against the wrong.

It is time we start seeing gender as a spectrum instead of two sets of opposing ideals. It is time, we start accepting and respecting each other for what we are. It is time to break the walls around us and defy all stereotypes. It is time to stand up for ourselves and respect our own individualities. Before the world respects you, it is important that you respect yourself. Speak up for what you believe in. Tell the world about your aspirations and how you want your life to shape. Stop compromising and learn to say a no without feeling a need to explain yourself.

Someone once asked me, “What does a woman want?”

My answer was instant and simple. All that a woman wants is to be the master of her own life. Is it too much to ask for?

Somethings in life do not change.....

Flashback 2000. I worked with Tata Infomedia Ltd as a Business Development Executive at the Amba Deep branch in Connaught Place, New Delhi. As my work timings were from 9 in the morning to 5:30 in the evening, I usually left office on time to catch a chartered bus back to my place at Ambica Vihar. As a rule, I never did overtime. Infact I was notorious for leaving office at 5:30 pm sharp much to the anguish of my fellow workers who passed their time chatting in their extended work hours as they had no families to go back  to and lived mostly on paying guest accommodation. Of course, at times they had work too.

In one of those rare occasions I happened to stay back in office till 7 PM for some work. As I left office, I found that it was raining profusely outside and there was no way of reaching the bus stop without getting drenched in rain. As I reached my stop, I found that most of the buses that plied on my route had already left while the others were bursting at the seams because of a heavy rush of people trying to escape the fury of the rain gods. Struggling to find a way, I stood there clueless as it had already started to get dark.

Just then I saw a rickety Bajaj Chetak stop near me with the rider wearing a helmet and a raincoat. It was Manu, my colleague who occupied a seat next to me at office and was a Sr. Sales Executive for Better Photography. He had recently shifted from Yellow Pages office in Patel Nagar and my first impression of him was that of a gorging uncle like personality always interested in other’s lunch boxes. I am calling him an uncle like personality as he never wore jeans and T-shirts those days. He would always be dressed in formal trousers, shirts and a tie with black shoes and his trademark moustache.

Manu at that time lived at Rohini and he offered me a lift back home. I had no choice so I accepted the offer readily. There were the two of us riding on a feeble ancient two wheeled junker (Sorry Manu) in a rainy weather hoping every moment that the scooter will not give way before I reached my destination. The traffic in Delhi gets worse at such times and since the metro was under construction those days, there used to be utter chaos at Patel Nagar and we were stuck there for presumably more than the expected time.  Suddenly my padosi started developing his signature hunger pangs and felt the need to eat something chatpata. Till today Manu is the most chatora of all my male friends ever. So he convinced me for a quick bite and started gushing into the bylanes of Patel Nagar to land at a Tikkiwalla Chat counter. There we were standing under a make shift shelter dripping heavily  from all corners relishing those lip smacking hot tikkis as it kept on  raining cats and dogs over us.

Satiated Manu was ready with his Chetak but to my horror it refused to start. He said it was usual and will take a few minutes. With some of his time tested tricks he managed to get it rolling and we again started our sojourn. We talked about many things on the way and got to know a lot about each other. As I reached  home, as a goodwill gesture I invited him for a cup of coffee. And to my horror he accepted the invitation. I have always been a reluctant personality who never mixed up easily and maintained a distance from people. So we had a hot cup of coffee at my home and I conveyed my thank you notes to Manu.

This was the starting point of our friendship. We were destined to be friends. Very soon we developed a bond and became each other’s most trusted aides. During our friendship we have shared many such moments. Working in Photo Asia and AV Expo had its own share of thrills and so were our usual fights over office issues. I can proudly say that I have seen Manu grow from a log cabin to the White House. Always a hardworking man and a die-hard optimist, he has strived to reach the position which he truly deserves. Somehow life had been unfair to him during the initial phase of his life. He never got his due in Infomedia and became an Area Sales Manager at least six years later than he should have. But being a workaholic he has changed his luck to grab every opportunity and reach on top of the corporate ladder.

Circa 2012. We planned to meet nine years after we had left Infomedia. Though I had visited his place and he had come to Jaipur in between,  those were more of formal family meetings. Now the time had finally come where we could recreate the old times. I don’t know why but for a minute I  actually emancipated a Bajaj Chetak to stop and me sitting as a pillion rider visiting an eatery where we usually fought over as to who was going to pay the bills.  But life has come a full circle in these 10 years. As Manu called me to ask about my whereabouts a swanky new Toyota Fortuner stood in front of me with him rolling down the window panes for me. Indeed, he has changed a lot. I could smell the air of exuberance around him as we rolled back those golden times.

Manu has become a busy man today. He received calls on his swanky mobile every minute and he managed to coax the callers that he would call back once he parked his car. But as expected, the essence of this man has still not changed. He still chose a modest place to sit where we could have our fill and chat informally about old times. We talked incessantly over the things in the past and life at present. We shared our food and life. This time for a change we did not fight over the bill and my once miserly friend gifted me a chic HTC phone.

For a busy man like him, sparing his peak time was a big thing. I don’t know how much business he might have lost in these two hours he spent with me as I was my usual barbarous types with him. Without having any mercy on this persevering and dynamic Country Marketing Head, I made him hover around the busy Janpath market for roadside shopping. Poor Manu followed me without any complaint carrying his laptop bag on his one shoulder and answering in conference calls right in the middle of the hustle and bustle of market. This is the magic of old friends. Even when you meet after ages, you remain the same good old selves.

Really, somethings in life do not change, for everything else, there is MasterCard. 

The day I donned a journalist’s robe

The coveted day finally arrived when I realized my dream of being a journalist. So far, I had only heard the stories of how newspapers are made, stories filed and designs approved. But this time, I got a firsthand experience of the same..

When I got an opportunity to write and conceptualize a 3 day newsletter covering the prestigious Bharatiye Pravasi Divas, I was in double minds. Would I be able to carry it off? Would I be able to complete it by myself? To add to it, I had no help, no translators and no editors? But something in my heart said that I had to do it at all cost. I could not have lost this chance at any cost. I was being told that I would get all the readymade coverage which I will have to translate, which didn’t seem to be a herculean task. Journalism has always fascinated me and I wanted to test my mantle in it.

Finally it was decided, Jyotsana Arora was to be the editorial consultant for the Pravasi Meet who was to cover the proceedings from the office, taking leads from the Hindi newspaper team and translating them in English. However, it did not turn out to be a cakewalk. The work that was to start from January 8, started on January 6 itself, courtesy the miscommunication between the marketing and sales people. I could have got an idea what a messy affair it was going to be for me if I had been into a media organization before.

Situated at Kesar Garh, the office was a huge fort like structure. Upon reaching there, Madam Jyotsana got to know that there is going to be no editorial support and no leads from the Hindi team. The interviews are to be conducted by me; the proceedings are to be covered by none other than me. So I was being asked to reach the Birla Auditorium and find out matter to fill my 4 pages.

Not to talk about the technological challenges faced by me. Their computers looked like type writers. It had no spell check and no yahoo mail. There was no printer in the immediate vicinity of atleast 500 meters. So when one gives a print command one has to travel all the way from one part of the fortress to the other. And in case (which was always a case most of the time) the print command did not work and failed to generate the print, I guess I don’t need to express. No amount of words can explain the anguish of the person who will travel back to complete the cycle again and hope for the right result. 

The designer I worked on the first day seemed to be was word blind. I will call him word blind because going by his work; I doubt  he would even be able to spell an apple, (God bless him) which meant, this was also to be done by me. To add to it, I had the dumbest person as my boss. I cannot bear this man for more than 3 days and in case I bang into him on the fourth, I am gonna shoot him. This person would repeat the same thing 10 times a day to the people and still does not get the results. I rejected him outright and decided the pages according to my insight. The best part is that the idiot didn’t even realize what I had done him in the end.

So now coming to my first day at the convention Centre, there I was, with a letter pad in my hand, a press card in my neck and a photographer at my beck and call. My heart swelled with pride while there were shivers going down my spine. But somehow, I carried it off. I decided to cover the ongoing preparation before the big day and gave special focus on the NGO’s who are trying to make difference in society. There was a ray of hope in their eyes and they wanted me to publish their pics and their cause in my edition. I also got myself clicked with HIV positive people. My story for day one was ready to be filed.

Day 2 was even worse, as I had to fill 8 pages and I had no expectations from the editorial. The intern did not turn up and I was alone.  But this time I had a better designer and had planned a draft to fill these pages. I covered a press conference and wrote on it. Cooked up a story on the cultural evening that was to be held at night but still the pages were left. That was the first time when I actually felt like a journo, with deadline approaching, piles and piles of work pending and the clock already showing 10 in the night. Two stories I had made did not find a place in the newsletter as they got extra advertisement in the end. So much of my effort had gone waste. But I guess that a part of a reporters job. First finding ways to fill gaps, then having futile fights with the marketing department and in the end, ending up giving your space to an advertisement. But somehow, the genius in me braved all this (:p) and I was free to come back at 12 in the night (big achievement as at one point I even contemplated the idea of spending the night there.. hahhahaahha)

On my last day I was being told to come at 3pm, but I woke up to a call from office which said that I had to report immediately at the auditorium as I had to interview some big shots. But upon reaching there, I realized that there was none, my Sunday morning already wasted. The day was spent at the venue gathering details about my feature story on the Pravasis. I did a full page on it and completed the other pages and proof reading. The patrika website I was relying on proved to be a crap as they uttered stupidity in every word. But still, the eight pages were filled, though not perfect by my standards but still, much much better than the patrika coverage online. My creativity said that I could have done better.

However, I was swelled with pride when I got a call from the GM who appreciated my efforts and my ability to carry the newsletter on my shoulders without any editorial support. The biggest thing I got was an offer to join the group full time. Better still, I was treated like a celeb when I went to school with my newsletter in my hand.  

These 3 days, though difficult, have given valuable experience to me. I have lived the life of a journalist in these days, eating, drinking and sleeping my newspaper. What an amazing thing this newspaper is!!!!! It might be costing 2-3 Rs, but one cannot imagine the handwork of hundreds of people that go into making of a daily paper. It has much more value in my eyes now than before especially when I know that every line we read in it, is cross checked by so many people. The designs that are edited a number of times and not to forget the last minute changes. Hats off to all the media people that are involved in the process.  Kudos to my media friends who have been into this line and still manage to have happy families……..

The elements so mixed in him...

Something very weird and strange happened today. As I came back from my school and was about to take the elevator, the security guard handed me an envelope marked with my name. What was striking in the envelope was my name and address written manually, since most of the correspondence one receives today is from banks and insurance offices with your name chits posted to it. I glanced through the neatly written letters, very familiar to me, closely. I had got a letter, that too by post and written by none other than my mentor, my grandfather. His handwriting filled me with a sense of nostalgia. The ascent up the elevator was a short flash back of memories spent in my ancestral home.

As I ascended the elevator, what struck me was the sheer simplicity and ingenuity of the man who has seen the world changing around him so fast that his thoughts have stuck in time. There is something amazing about the man who happens to be my friend, philosopher, guide and grandfather. Lovingly called DADDY by all his grand children and students, he is a man of tremendous energy, talent and compassion. His is the generation that has seen the transition from telegrams to e-mails, from the invention of the telephone to the iconic I-phone, from the rickety typewriter to the suave I-pads…… And yet despite this sea of change around him, he still tries to live in the good olden days and keeps the old traditions alive, perfectly aware of the modern means around. He still uses the same old type writer to type letters ignorant of the internet technologies. He still walks an extra mile to go to the post office to buy stamps, postcards and post letters to all his loved ones and friends. Surprisingly, he still waits for seven days for his letter to be delivered and getting a reply, which he seldom gets. What he gets in return is a phone call in reply as things have changed for his forbearers. After all who has the time to complete the daunting task of writing and posting a letter when it can be done within a second through an e-mail?

I still remember the day when I once explained him about the world of internet technologies. There was a sense of disbelief in him about the pace of change. He was full of questions like a 5 year old and could not believe how the written word can travel miles with the least of efforts and time.  I had a hard time explaining the procedure to him and was obviously annoyed. But then I remembered how he had taken the stringent pains to teach me the rules of grammar as a kid and felt ashamed.

He was totally amused to see his 6 year old great granddaughter use an I-phone deftly; He got to know of the telephone when he was 25 years old and he could not believe his ears. Once his friend from the Delhi visited him and asked him to come there for a job. He asked him to call him before coming and gave his office telephone number. Daddy walked 5 miles to go to the nearest telephone center. He dialed the number at least 10 times but in vain. Frustrated, when he was about to leave, the man at the counter came and laughed at him and said, “You don’t even know how to operate a telephone!” Daddy felt ashamed. He was first dialing the number on the phone and would then pick the receiver to say a hello. And today his great granddaughter can perfectly operate the most complicated gadget in the world.

Technologically challenged he might be, but he can still give a run for their money to the modern generation. He can walk miles without getting tired. He might be Indian by birth, but he has the etiquettes and mannerisms of a true Englishman. He has an ornate love for the English language due to his English bosses at the news agency where he worked. Initially hired as a mere typist, he went on to write for the leading news papers of the world. He has perfected the language and gets immense pleasure to pass it on to others.  I remember how much we used to detest going on holidays because the moment we used to come back, he would ask us write a travelogue.

Teaching is his passion and he has kept it noble. Post retirement, he took a teaching job in my brother’s school. Surprisingly he has never charged a penny and feels that teaching loses its sheen when sold. During the course of his teaching career, he has offered help to hundreds of weak children. He loves to give private classes free of cost which annoys my granny to the hilt. The poor man bears all the grunts and taunts of his wife but the satisfaction which he derives out of the grades his students get, justifies all. After all, in his own words, “The end should justify the means”.

At 87 today, most of his time is spent in the company of his best friends – books & news papers. He is a non-smoker and a teetotaler. He follows a strict vegetarian diet and has not tasted tea or coffee for the last fifty years. Except for his meals, he does all his daily chores by himself, from washing clothes to ironing to buying goods from the market. To all the people known to him, he is a pinnacle of knowledge, love and sacrifice. What more can I say about this man. Words fall short when one gets to talk about daddy.

 Sadly, he has reached the stage in his life when he looks an alien to the outer world. Some of the new generation laughs at him for his old ways. He is forlorn and craves for company. He reminds me of the stage of a pantaloon where the world has become too wide for his shrunk shank. In him he has drowned an era, in him he sees a hope for future.

Shakespeare must have him in mind when he wrote, “The elements so mixed in him, that nature one day might stand up and say to all the world. THIS IS A MAN….”

Why Malice towards Ravan once and for all?

Why Malice towards Ravan once and for all?
As the popular message goes around, Dussehra is a reminder of the consequences of fooling around with somebody else’s wife. True indeed. Since time immemorial Ravan has been paying the consequences of his deed. He is being immolated, thrashed and laughed upon endlessly. He is being made the scapegoat of venting one’s anger and ire. Year after year he is humiliated with his effigies burnt amidst much fanfare.
The point to ponder over here is does he deserve all the treatment which he has got? In the times where people like Kasab get to live a luxurious life in prison and law attorneys arguing that capital punishment is inhuman and barbaric, why Ravan gets to live with his crime forever?
Even the law says that you cannot punish the culprit for the same crime twice. Why is his crime being freezed upon and punishment fixed for good?
If we leave Ravan aside and talk about Kumbhkaran and Meghnath, are they paying the price of being loyal to their king and country? Would they have been revered if they would have chosen to betray their homeland and chosen to aid with the almighty? If that is the case then why is Vibhishan still termed as a traitor?
As the story goes, during the war between Ram and Ravan, Kumbhkaran was awakened from his slumber and was given the orders to fight against Ram on the wish of his elder brother. Being a visionary he had foreseen the future that they would have to pay a heavy price as Ram had divine powers. When he tried to convince his brother for the same he was laughed upon and termed a coward. In the end he had no choice but to succumb to the wishes of his king and senior. He dutifully did what was expected out of him. Does his action deserve the kind of dishonor from the present generation for whom the ideas of obedience and loyalty have gone to the winds?
It is ironic that if we ask the youngsters to tell who was Vibhishan and Meghnath, 50% of them would be blank. But when it comes to pelting stones on someone’s character, they leave no stones unturned. They might not know who Ravan was, but they still love to throw stones at him and have their share of fun. Isn’t it hypocrisy at its zenith?
With changing times, many notions and beliefs of religion are changing. The rise of atheism and modern thinking has made the people question the age-old practices of religions. The beliefs are challenged and reformed. It is high time to acquit our very own Ravan and give a character modification as he was also a great scholar and a spirituous man. So much so that Ram asked his younger brother Lakshman to obtain Ravan’s “words of wisdom” when the vanquished king was nearing his death. He deserves his share of penance and reverence for his knowledge and wisdom.

Mahashweta

Keats once wrote, “A thing of beauty is a joy for ever. Its loveliness increases. It will never pass on to nothingness.”

While writing the above lines, the poet seemed to take a deliberate poetic licence and chose to ignore the human angle of life. The fact of life says that man has always been in pursuit of beauty. He wants a pretty picture of everything that is around him. And when this beauty turns into ugliness, he discards it with scorn and prejudice. Time is the greatest destroyer which ruins everything, be it love, affection or relationships. And beauty never remains forever. It fades with time. And so the liaisons attached to beauty.

‘Mahashweta’ is a hard hitting novel on man’s obsession with physical beauty. Whatever we may feel and love to say that beauty is not just skin deep, the fact lies that external beauty has always been dear to the human eye. A tale of love and betrayal, the novel talks about the journey of pretty and charming Anupama, whose life seems to fall apart when she develops leukaemia.

The protagonist hails from a modest background completing her education with the help of scholarships. She bumps into Dr. Anand and what a pretty picture she turns out for him. His rapt admiration for her beauty makes him forget all the odds to propose marriage to this poor girl. But Anupama’s fairy tale marriage suffers the first setback when she discovers a tiny white patch on her foot. Things start to fall apart. She is abandoned by her in-laws and her insensitive husband and left alone to survive in this merciless world. She wonders how a tiny white patch can make her lover turned husband to forget the eternal vows of love for her.

Being a woman of substance, she decides to fight back. She realises that her life is her own and she has to be responsible for herself. Slowly she makes her way into the fast paced life of Mumbai and paves an identity for herself as a Sanskrit lecturer cum social worker. Life seems to move in the right direction for her when again she bumps into another medico in her life. Friendship grows between Anupama and Dr. Vasant and so do the white patches on her skin. It is to be noted here that even the writer has deliberately avoided the white patches from appearing on her face. May be she wanted to justify Dr. Vasant’s attraction for her (another indication that physical beauty is indispensable when it comes to the so called greatest sentiment called love). Dr. Vasant’s marriage proposal to Anupama despite knowing her skin condition and the fact that she was never to recover from it seemed to be too filmy. And so was Dr. Anand’s recognition of his guilt and his effort to re-enter Anupama’s life.

The best part I loved about the book was Anupama’s admission of her state. She learnt her lesson the hard way that nothing is permanent in this word. Even love doesn’t last forever. Initial sparks fly off when one is faced with harsh realities of life. The sooner the white patches would grow over her face, the sooner she would be further scorned off by her loved ones. This makes her choose a life of reclusion from relationships and dedication to the service of humanity. She refuses to get entangled in the same circle of husband and family. Now she aims for a different path sans any love and further possible prejudice. The emotional maturity of Anupama is beyond comprehension when she refuses to complicate her friendship by getting married. She eventually decides to live her life as the original ‘Mahashweta-the white one’ but this time her fate was to keep her separated from her ‘Pundarika’ forever.

The title of the novel has been taken from ‘Kadambari’, a romantic novel written in Sanskrit by Banabhatta. The touching story of the brave girl will surely move your heart to pieces. It will urge the people to show empathy towards the people suffering from leukoderma.

Gently falls the Bakula

TUM NE TO AAAKASH DE DAALA,
MERE NANGE PAIRON MAIN ZAMEEN HAI.
PAAKE BHI KYU TERI AARZOO HAI,
SHAYAD YAHI ZINDAGI HAI.

The lines summarize the feelings of the protagonist in the novel “Gently falls the Bakula” by Sudha Murthy. A beautiful story of a relationship that slowly falls apart with time. A marriage that loses its spark when ambition and success take their toll. How expectations can affect love and commitment.

The story revolves around Shrikant and Shrimati who, once school mates in a small town of Hubli, go on to be husband and wife. From being competitors in the class, to good friends, then life partners and again strangers in the end, the story moves on the lines of Shrimati’s journey of life. The bakula flower is the symbol of their love and the title signifies the breaking of this relationship and bond with time.

Shrimati is a sensitive human being. She portrays the typical Indian woman who sacrifices her career in lieu of a happy family life. She marries for love but her love turns to dust. The novel talks about an unspoken truth that love fades with time. It dies a slow death when it faces the harsh realities of life. Often we ignore the people we love so much and tend to take them for granted. We do not realise that a single act of insensitivity can leave a deep scar in a relationship. Srikant’s callous attitude about his inconsiderate mother and her attitude towards Shrimati leaves a deep hurt in his relationship. To add to it, his unresponsiveness makes a void that slowly becomes impossible to be filled with time.

As for Shrikant, he plays an ambitious bright young man, in pursuit of his dreams. Success is addictable. The ones who get addicted; go for it even at the cost of love and family. It is here when ignorance becomes a habit and not knowingly, one becomes a victim of it. One can relate the character of Srikant with most of the successful people. The people who achieve everything in life at the cost of relationships. People who become machines with time, incapable of thinking about others who have equal share in their success.


It makes us question reality. Does love really exist in this world? I have seen the greatest of relationships breaking with time. The deepest of emotions losing their spark and shine. Change is the essence of life. People change with time and so do relationships. If I would have written this review 10 years back, it would have been totally different. My heart would have definitely ruled my mind. But my perspective has changed today. Experience and age enable you to look into reality with a broader spectrum.

One thing which I did not like about the book is the age old norm of wives cribbing that their husbands do not give them time. When will the Indian woman grow up? There is a world beyond husbands too. Srikant being a broad minded person gave all the liberties to his wife. She was free to pursue her studies and career. She had money to spend at her discretion. She was not living with her in-laws. She had the independence to go on a historical tour with her professor. How many women get such luxuries in life? And yet the only thing she craved was her husband’s time. Something I could not relate to. The end seemed to be an exaggeration too. Infact, if she would have wanted to go to US for her career, her husband would never have forbidden her to do that.

Overall the book is an interesting read. Sudha Murthy’s narration is very simple and the book catches your interest right from the first chapter. Finally the novel gives the moral “Relationships are easy to get into, but difficult to nurture. A bit of time, perseverance, selflessness, patience and care is all  it needs to preserve them.”

Reality shows- Glitz, glamour and glory

Reality shows are a common phenomenon on TV these days. We come across a one on every possible theme. Instant fame and stardom make the people and celebrities going to an extent of taking their most private decisions of life like marriage on celluloid, thanks to the euphoria created around them. Public Swayamwars, girls trying to woo their prospective mothers-in-law, celebrities trying their hand at baby sitting are the latest additions apart from dance shows and music competitions. Several youngsters aspiring to be popular come on the show for a multitude of reasons. Talent hunt seems to be the most popular one.

Reality shows are a shortcut to success. It is a huge platform for ordinary people from all walks of life to showcase their talent. Instant fame and recognition have made these shows very popular. Once you get on the TV, you become a household name instantly. India is not far behind in the number of reality shows mushrooming in every channel of television. Viewers have a lot of choice in terms of shows. Reality television came to India as a welcome break for the audience which had become tired of the never ending saas-bahu sagas. The most watched reality show started on MTV featuring Cyrus Broacha confusing his victims in utter bewilderment on MTV bakra. KBC and Big Boss followed suit and became instant hits.

While the list of reality shows is long that have come and gone or come and stayed season after season, their voyeuristic draw is beginning to fade. As a case in India, when a thing becomes popular, people tend to over do it. The trend of reality TV is on the brink of a collapse. The reason being an over dose of reality. There are all kinds of shows made on every possible theme which actually make a mockery of Indian sensibilities. There are shows that boost about having a glimpse of your previous birth while others talk about bringing out your darkest secrets in front of the people in order to gain TRP's. There seems to be no end to their creativity with newer concepts being introduced which make us question reality in itself. They are surviving on sensationalism rather than reality.

Reality shows have also become a means of peeking into the private lives of celebrities. Moreover, most of these shows are scripted and do not show the truth. The fame of reality show winners is also short lived. They are not able to live their moments of glory for long. They wipe away from public memory the moment the show goes off air.

It is time that the producers realise this fact that the Indian audience has become very choosy in terms of TV shows they watch. The ouster of drama queen Ekta Kapoor from the stage which she once reined is a fact that cannot be overlooked. Also is the easy availability of unlimited foreign channels provided by satellite television, the audience’s taste has remarkably changed for good.

Gulzar - The best

Mujhko bhi tarqeeb sikha koi yaar julahe,
Aksar tujhe dekha hai ye tana bunte,
Jab koi dhaga toot gaya ya khatam hua,
Fir se bandh ke, ya sira koi jod ke usme aage bunne lagte ho,
Tere is tane me lekin ik bhi ganth rahe buntar ki,
dekh nahi sakta hai koi.
Maine bhi ik bar buna tha ek hi rishta,
Lekin uski saari girahen saaf nazar aaati hain mere yaar julahe,
Mujhko bhi tarqeeb sikha koi yaar julahe.

Three hours of distress

All of us must have given an exam at some point in our lives. EXAMINATIONS have always been the most dreaded word for a student since time immemorial. I remember how much I used to crib over them and detest my teacher who would be roving around me giving a reminder of every second ticking. My heart knows how much I envied her. But the tables have turned today. And alas! The grass did not turn out to be greener at this side of the fence.

My stint as a school teacher has one thing that brings the hell out of me. It is the scare of a three hours long exam duty. Believe me, it is the worst job in the world where you do not do anything. Take unaccountable rounds of the room, try to be as vigilant as possible, endless rounds of distributing sheets and counting every minute on the clock. Three hours of unimaginable torture and boredom. Surviving this time is an atrocious task.

Three hours is a long time. Think about the number of things you can actually do in this span. You can complete a movie in 3 hours. You can listen to 36 songs. You can read 5 magazines or complete the Alchemist. You can surf, chat or reconnect with your friends. One can reach Mumbai from Delhi in three hours and even a T20 match ends in this time. But what do we do? Nothing. Roam around like an idiot without sitting for a moment, try hard to keep focussing on your target or else find something interesting to kill time.

Here it is very remarkable to know what other teachers do in their slotted three hours of agony. We actually have the honour of having the most versatile teachers in our school. So I decided to watch them furtively, trying to interpret their state of mind. Believe me, my observations were mind blowing. I noticed that some fellow colleagues consider this examination duty a golden chance of scoring some bonus points for themselves in the school. You must be wondering how? Well they have a clear cut agenda here which is to catch a student cheating. The higher the number of student one catches, the higher the incentives one gets in terms of being termed a more dedicated teacher. Some of them have a funda which goes like – chill during the session, don’t bother much on the academics, go slow with the syllabus but be extra vigilant during the exam. Catch hold of your 2-3 preys and enjoy the tag of being the most diligent teacher for the rest of the session. Amazing people and their incredible beliefs.

It is notable here that if you happen to have the company of a fellow colleague during your invigilation duty, life seems to be on a roller coaster ride. Not because it relieves your work, but actually for another reason. Ask me why? I might sound very sadist here but I love to see a feeling of comparative misery in the eyes of my colleagues.

I recently had this experience of giving an exam again. And believe me, it was not as dreaded this time as it used to be earlier. I was ecstatic on having the luxury of sitting in an exam for full three hours and derived pleasure from the suffering of the invigilator. I had a hard time to complete my allotted time in the exam as I hardly knew anything but still, I made it a point that I was not going to leave the exam hall before the stipulated 3 hours. Somehow my masochistic drive did not allow me to grant him the liberation of shortening his allotted hours of distress. I sat their solely because of the sake of the invigilator. He had to live through his 3 hours of hell.

Ask my heart, giving an invigilation duty is the worst torment in the world and can well be deployed as one of the persecution techniques in prison cells. Rather than putting a culprit to prison send him for an exam duty instead. I bet, he will never be an offender again. It is my fate that this kind of harassment continues and will continue to be legal in India till the time I choose to be in this profession. So the next time you go for an exam, have some clemency for the one standing on the other side of the desk. One poor creature known as the examiner.

Colours of life

Life is full of experiences in varied colours. Since it has been a long time and I did not get a topic for my new blog, I chose to write something very interesting which happened with me. I love being adventurous and have always been a game for trying new things.
It happened to be a birthday of one of our friends and we decided to celebrate it in style. What followed was not planned. It all started with a customary cake cutting and dinner with friends to commemorate the occasion. We were three couples. Apart from Dev and me, there were Akhil - Shalini(the birthday girl) and Rahul - Nidhi. The kids had their own company and were busy in their selves.

The dinner was arranged in Jaipur’s upmarket Sharma Dhaba right in the spine chilling cold. We were through with our usual masti at around 12 in the night, and being good and decent people, we decided to head for home. Until I got this wild wild idea and everybody jumped to it. I suggested that we should drop the kids home with Nidhi’s maid and we should head for Nahargarh. To those who are not familiar about Jaipur, Nahargarh is actually a very popular tourist attraction here and stands on the edge of the Aravalli Hills overlooking the pink city. Breathtakingly beautiful during the day and equally scary at night. Legends say that it was name after Prince Nahar whose spirit haunted the place and obstructed construction of the fort. It used to be the hunting residences of maharajas. Nahargarh Fort forms a remarkable backdrop of Jaipur and offers a glittering view of the city lights. Presently it is partially in ruins with its deserted places being notorious for people boozing on roads and couples sneaking in for their private moments.

We dropped the kids home made some tea and headed for our next destination. We sneaked into Nahargarh around 1 in the night although the official timings are from 10 to 4. It was now that these people decided to have some fun at my expense. Once we were near to the place, Rahul started scaring me with some ghost stories which he claimed to be true about the spirits haunting the place in night and so on. We were in Akhil’s Scorpio. Rahul was driving and Nidhi was sitting next to him. On the middle seat there were Akhil and Shalini and right at the back was me and Dev. Once we started climbing the hill it was all dark and deserted. We were in the midst of a forest at 1 in the night and Rahul kept on warning us not to open the windows or stop anywhere. To add to it, he even talked about people being murdered at the place and everybody sharing their side of a spooky story they knew or had heard, making it all the more frightening for me. Hats off to Rahul who played his eeriest best that day. I could not take it anymore and I told them to return back. After much pestering, Rahul agreed to return back but he still had this creepy thing in mind.

Suddenly he got very serious and said, “Jokes apart, what I am now going to tell you is something very serious that happened last month here.” Targeting me, he said that there was a couple from Delhi who had hired a driver to have a round of the fort at night last month. Right in the middle of the forest, the driver stopped the car and ran away. He is still not being found by anybody. Before I could feel anything or say anything, he stopped the car, switched off the lights and in split seconds he ran out of the car yelling. It was all dark outside, we didn’t realise what happened and before we could get our breath back, we came from behind and started patting the car from the rear window. GOD!!!!!! I could have died of a cardiac arrest that time. The spectre of actually seeing a ghost was the most bizarre thing I have ever witnessed in life.

To add to it, everybody knew about this plot except me. I did not have the courage to stay there for any longer and yelled at them to go back. I came to my senses once we reached Hawa Mahal. We got down from the car, had tea and wandered round the place till 2.30. We had our share of fun and scare and we returned back at 3 am only to find all the three kids cuddled together with each other in Devanshi’s bed, fast asleep.
This actually was my first brush with terror.

Summer time - Gala Time

SUMMER TIME – GALA TIME



Come vacations and the students slip into festive mood. It’s a time for which they wait all the year through. They make elaborate plans to ensure a gala time. From excursions to summer camps, visiting grand parents to kids alone parties, they have everything on their agenda. Summer Vacations is a time for throwing the heavy back packs into cub boards and chill out.
Apart from fun and frolic, students can also utilize their time simultaneously in planning for their future. The aim of education is not limited to book learning and knowledge. It covers a wider spectrum. As teachers, we should strive to make complete individuals rather than just doctors and engineers. Parents should also realise that every child can not be a topper. The top slot can accommodate only one winner. Therefore rather than stressing your child with studies, summer vacations are also a time to pursue various hidden talents that every child has in him. Dance classes, aerobics, yoga, singing, skating, swimming, acting, are various activities that bring out the best in a child. It gives an expression to their personality. Therefore, summer time can be best utilised in such endeavours. It is absolutely necessary for the parents to give their kids the freedom to chase their dreams in vacations. Unlike other nations, we are a nation where a child is evaluated only on his percentages and grades. In this mad race for the best scores for their children, parents knowingly subvert their hidden talents. Probably, this is the reason why an Indian is still not a world leader in fine arts, sports etc. Educational institutions should utilize the summer vacation time to nurture these hidden skills in the students.

Summer vacations are also a perfect time to work on your weaknesses. Students have ample time at their discretion to improvise their writing and speaking skills. Short courses on language speaking are a boon. Students should spend at least one hour daily in reading good literature. If not books, newspapers always come handy and can be read anywhere. It serves a dual purpose of developing your reading skills and also makes to updated with the current happenings around you.

So let your kid unleash the hidden talent in him and allow him the freedom to be. Who knows if he can be the Picasso or Einstein of tomorrow?

Relevance of religion

Relevance of Religion in Promoting Values for Communal Harmony


Religions are many and diverse, but reason and goodness are one. As a child, I used to hear a line which says that a religion always preaches us to be good. I wonder if this line is still relevant in the present scenario.


Religion is the most commonly misunderstood word today. People use this word to fulfil their own selfish motives. Hindus use their religion to encourage untouchability and caste discrimination. Muslims use Islam to spread violence in the name of Jehad. Sikhs had separatist tendencies while Christians always tried to prove themselves as a superior race. Whatever may be the reason, religion always emerges to be the loser. No religion supports violence. Those who resort to violence in the name of religion are doing a disservice to their faith and humanity at large.

Guru Nanakji once said in one of his sacred books, “There is but one God. His name is Truth. He is the creator, He fears none. He is without hate, He never dies, He is beyond the cycle of births and death, He is self illuminated, He is realized by kindness of the true guru. He was true in the beginning, He was true when the ages commenced and has ever been true. He is also true now.”

Religion and communal harmony go hand in hand. Religion is needed in the formation of character. The idea of communal harmony is not possible in the absence of an organized religious way of life. Modern life has multiplied our desires. And when desires are multiplied without the corrective sense of spiritual values, they lead to greed and lust. Lust for power, money and fame. It finds fresh tools for evil and facilitates greater indulgence in all forms of greed. The only thing that fortifies men against temptation is the religious sense. It is religion that fixes good and sound habits of thought and of external activity. Morals, like empty bags, cannot stand on their own feet unless they are based on religion. And all religions of the world are great as all of them have a message of love and humanism.

When it comes to communal harmony, India has always set an example for the world. Communal harmony, therefore, is the basic building block of our country. Swami Vivekananda’s views during a summit on “Parliament of Religions" in 1893 were thought provoking. He proved to the world that holiness, purity and charity were not the exclusive possessions of any church or mosque in the world and that every system had produced men and women of the most exalted character. His address before the parliament was broad as the heavens above us, embracing the best in all religions and the ultimate universal religion was charity to all mankind and good works for the love of God, not for fear of punishment.

The theme of Gandhiji’s teachings was also similar. He wanted the individual to rise above fear, jealousy and hate. When such individuals combine themselves into a community, the problem of communal jealousy and discord will disappear.

Guru Nanak in his first statement after his prophetic communion with God said, “There is no Hindu or any Mussalman.” If God was to be found, he would be found in the inner chambers of human heart. If a man is intoxicated enough with the name, memory and thought of God, he would experience him in his own self. For Nanakji, such a person was a true yogi and not the one who wore orange robes for appearance sake.

Although India has been a confluence of religious plurality for over two millenniums, we are still far away from developing an inter-religious spirituality in the minds of our people. The rise of communalism is a major threat to our spirituality. The spirit of negativity dominates and shapes our religious attitudes. It is this that leads us to mistake our neighbours to be the enemies of our faith. Though all religions recommend values such as generosity, selflessness and charity, increasingly people resort to religion only to secure limitless and unmerited advantages in this world and the next.

The time has come for us to work earnestly towards evolving a shared spirituality keeping pace with the demands of a secular democracy. The need of the hour is the spiritual renewal and reform of all the religions. The practitioners of a religion have to develop adequate sensitivity and due respect for the religious practices and sentiments of others. We cease to grow when we blindly adopt a religion with all its dogmas. Rather than glorifying ourselves to be superior over others, we need to handle our spiritual heritage with humility and compassion. There is an urgent need to evolve an inter-religious code through mutual consultation. It should accommodate the genius of each religion and minimize the offence of what is unique and different.

We need to set an example of religious tolerance and communal harmony again. Our ancestors have been known to enlighten the world from time to time. It is time for us to depict hope to the world.

“When I do good, I feel good; when I do bad, I feel bad. That's my religion.”
And that should be the spirit.

We the teachers

Greetings at every step, walking in an aura of pride, welcoming smiles and bowing heads. Welcome to the world of a teacher. A glance at our life will make you believe that each one of us is no less than a queen in ourselves. There is an aura of royalty attached to the life of a teacher. The students always make you feel on top of the world. Our words are their commands. They adulate us. Imagine 10 students rushing to lift your pen when you accidentally drop it. Isn’t it flattering?

The best part of the teaching profession is that one gets to relive her childhood everyday. The kids remind me about my days in school. Sometimes their mischiefs make me laugh because they remind me of my long forgotten ones. I see a reflection of me in them. They have the ability to bring out the best in me. A glimpse on their face makes me proud because they all belong to me. I feel responsible for their actions. Their success delights me while their failures are my failures. I cherish the moments when I actually look at myself in some of my students. A school girl which I was. Plain, simple and so ignorant of the world outside. With eyes full of dreams and ambition to take on the world. Did we ever imagine as kids that life could be so complicated? Weren’t those the best days of our life? I feel blessed because I get to play my part of a kid everyday. Blessed are the ones who love and are loved in return. I am beholden to my students who shower me with affection everyday.

Teaching is not a lost art, but the regard for it is a lost tradition. It is heartening to see that in the time of cut throat competition and corporate rivalry, teaching is not looked upon as a first career option. Most of us take to teaching not out of choice but by compulsion. It is only considered to be the best career option for a married woman or a mother. Reason, it allows ample time for family and kids. To be honest, I also gave it a try only out of compulsion. But I am happy that I did. Today I am on my path of discovering a new me in myself. I feel elated when my kids look upon me as a friend, philosopher and guide. We must not forget that teaching is a profession that teaches all the other professions.

The teaching profession provides a challenging and enriching career with varied fields of excellence that cater to your talents, abilities and aspirations. Our professional duties may extend beyond formal teaching. Outside of the classroom we also accompany students on field trips. We make them learn the nuisances of dance during school celebrations. I tried my hand at choreography during our annual day celebrations and was amazed to discover this new part in me. School picnic was an all and all awesome experience. I was pampered to the hilt with everybody offering something to me before having it first. The students’ enthusiasm to serve their teachers was unexplainable. And I was reminded about every bit of my school picnic.

But at the same time, teaching is not an easy task. In teaching you cannot see the fruit of a day's work. It is invisible and remains so maybe for years. A teacher's purpose is not to create students in his own image, but to develop students who can create their own image. We have to make an image in the minds of our students. We have to prove our worth as their role model which is no less than a Herculean task in itself. As it is said, “It is difficult to win confidence but easy to lose it.” And we cannot to afford to lose our students’ confidence even for a moment.



Besides recently, I was told by someone that I have always loved to shout at my own mistakes. And my profession gives me ample opportunities to shout at people. What more can I ask for? Therefore, instead of being slaughtered everyday in a corporate environment, why not be surrounded by angels all the time? Give it a thought……..

Singh is King

Let us talk about our very own Banta Singh, who has been making you lose your wits since time immemorial. He is the cynosure of most of the jokes which people love to laugh at. People make fun of him in whatever he does. He is always scorned off by people as being stupid, funny and absent minded. But mind it; this is not the real picture of a Sardar.

If you think of any section of people in the world who have embraced life as whole heartedly as possible, they are the Sardars. Sikhs will be more correct politically, but that’s just a religious identity. To be a sardar is something different. He is vivacious and innocuous. Always full of life, enthusiasm and vitality, they live their life, king size. Everything related to a sardar is unconventional. The ability to laugh at one's identity and not feel any less proud about it is ‘Sardardom’ in my definition. And this ability is indeed applaud able. They have successfully made a genre for themselves in the joke world. They may be the laughing stock of the world, but they are so large hearted that when they tell jokes, they make themselves the subject rather than offending any other ethnic group. I have never seen a Sardar proving his superiority in front of our other self obsessed regional groups. What constitutes a sardar is something totally different. And I am beholden to them for this. Isn’t their zest for life remarkable? What matters is they have the mindset to take criticism in their stride and even turn it into something positive.

There is certain vividness in a Sardar’s character. It is not like that they always need to be fools. We have our most educated PM to date, in the robes of a sardar. The Sikhs are also the most migratory and successful community abroad. You will find a sardar in every nook and corner of the world. In Canada, they hold the greatest number of political and business posts. Punjab is the richest state in India, capita-wise. They are a sacrificial lot when it comes to fighting for their country. 80% of casualties during India’s independence were of Sikhs, despite being a mere 2% of the population. The Punjab regiment is the most award-winning and distinguished regiment in the Indian army. Bhangra is the most popular form of dance, full of pep and energy. You will find people tapping their feet to the music of a Punjabi song in all parts of the world. Their Gurudawaras are unbelievably organized and well maintained compared to our temples. Overall the Sikhs are extremely hard working, religious and humble souls. I have never seen a Sardar beggar in my life. This proves their social standing in society. The religious teachings of Sikhism are far more liberal and secular than anyone. Their ideology is all embracing.

When it comes to hospitality, they have no equals. Those who have been treated to a typical Punjabi hospitality will swear by my words that a sardar is a scintillating conversationist. He will make a complete stranger feel at home. Their magnanimous hearts can accommodate anyone and everyone. But at times he is prone to flattery. He is an epitome of love and trust.

Forgive me if I sound biased. To clarify, there is a huge difference between being a Sardar and a Punjabi. They are not necessarily the same. I am not a sardar but I do wish if I was born one. So the next time you hear a sardar joke, do not forget to have a word of cheer for their stoical spirit. These Singhs are indeed the Kings.

To be or Not to be

Is that an option? No!

I don't think we are here to answer such silly questions.

We are here to be, and will be. As they say meet Positive people and avoid Negative people who kill your buoyancy the moment you catch sight of them.

We are the

To be or not to be?

TO BE OR NOT TO BE


As Rajasthan goes to polls, I find myself in a fierce dilemma. To vote or not to vote. If yes, then whom to vote and whom not to. For the ones who do not have a legacy of voting for a particular party, the decision can be killing. Especially with each politician being an equal accomplice of the other in corruption, I wonder if anyone’s coming to power is going to make any difference to me and my country.

With our politicians crossing all the limits, the conflict between India’s political elite and the urban middle class was quite apparent after the Mumbai carnage. They left no stone unturned in making us feel insecure, betrayed and cheated. Ultimately they ended up making a fool of them by trying to get maximum political mileage from the tragedy. Vilasrao Deskmukh tried to kill two birds with one stone by making a customary visit to the massacre site with good friend and film maker Ram Gopal Verma. But unfortunately, he ended up loosing his CM seat. Achuthanandan’s comments were nothing less than a national shame. How could he stoop to such a level by openly abusing a martyr’s family? Interestingly, Raj Thakeray, as though tired of his cynics on north Indian’s and Jaya Bachan went missing on the day of the riots, only to come out of his shell at Karkare’s funeral. His excuse-he was busy donating blood and help people in rescue operation as if we do not know the truth. For Mr. R.R.Patil, the incident was not worth a mention because ‘itne bade shaher me ekadha hadsa ho jaata hai’. Perhaps he was expecting something greater than a 9/11 to make him sit and understand the gravity of the situation. With the likes of Naqvi and Modi, our future doesn’t seem to be too bright. All of them are nothing less than a bunch of jokers.

We, the Indians, are fed of empty and publicity seeking politicians. The Mumbai Blasts proved to be the last nail in their coffin. But the debate still goes on. Whom to vote and whom not to.

Do you know that there is a provision in the Constitution Of India, as per the Conduct of Elections Rules, 1969 Act, in Section 49-O where a person can go to the polling booth, confirm his identity, get his finger marked, and convey to the presiding election officer that he/she doesn't want to vote for anyone! Such a feature is available, but obviously these seemingly notorious leaders have never disclosed it. It is called "49-O". Now, if the number of 49'O count is larger than that of the winning candidates total vote count, then a re-election is called there. More than all, the fact is, this 49'O is available ever since 1960, but it is in no way conveyed to the people. Neither the government communicate this, nor did the election commission. In the present scenario, don't you think that this is the best option available??