Today I am ashamed to call myself an Indian. My head hangs in shame and my heart is crying.
I am ashamed of being a citizen of an impotent society. A society which prides itself for being the
mother of all civilization, but has slowly and surely forgotten the meaning ofbeing civilized.
I am ashamed of my inability to do anything, my helplessness. I cry for my sisters/ mothers/ ­
daughters who suffer silently or fade away, without notice, quietly. My Proud society kills a girl at her birth, during her growing years, after she's grown up, when she is old and even after her death even though we respect her a lot... I am ashamed of my proud society which slashes throats if
someone marries out of their religion or caste or sub caste, or if a girl is seen without a veil. But
this very society goes in a chilling silence, in a impotent inaction when someone rapes their
daughters/ sisters/ mothers. I am a part of the system and 'am equally to be blamed. I am sorry
my sister... we were not able to save you. I am sorry that we could do nothing, but react instead of
proactively protecting you. I am sorry that even after your death, I am so clueless and helpless that in the same city at least 15 Rape incidences were recorded after that fateful day. Please forgive us.... I know you can, you always have.. :'( :'( —

TIMELESS FREEDOM

I was captivated by the landscape through which I was traveling. Narrow fields of golden grain alternated with pastures dotted with bushes. It was possible to catch glimpses of the forest and fields which were dotted with colorful little farms having several sheds to their sides which served the house and also contained ingeniously constructed stone racks for storing the fruits of the summer harvest. They were simple buildings one could almost say shabby, but neat and tidy all the same. Only the flower and vegetable beds in the gardens could be described as disturbed.

Just about everywhere I went I was greeted like long last friend. But this was perhaps not surprising; after all with fewer inhabitants, everybody knows practically everyone else. And this is also why, as I found out later, a wedding celebration traditionally continues three to five days. And everyone in the village could be expected to turn up. Nobody can afford that sort of thing these days. People tend to opt for just living together.

The blue sky was dotted with white clouds and the light of the setting sun gleamed on the windswept grass. It didn’t take much effort to get to know the people of village.

 During the day I was able to observe them going about their usual business, quietly and deliberately with the regularity of a pendulum mostly out of doors, in the field’s gardens or at river. I had plenty of time to wander round and take snaps of their lives. 

They say sing for as long as you are alive-in the fields, at home amongst friends. 

It is difficult to say how many hours I spent sitting on the bank watching the fisherman put out into the river and return with their modest catches.

There appeared to be a clear division of labor, for no sooner had they tied up the boat their women would turn up. They will help unload the boats, stored the catch and nets and then disappeared, leaving behind a pungent whiff of mud in the air.

 The bank also served as a playground for the children. They perform breakneck somersaults in the long grass, wrestled with one another, laughing and playing with the same carefree innocence as the pack of dogs that play around them.

There is a path from river to village looking like a enchanting meadow traversed by a yellow streak of sandy path up which the people will walk some of them bare feet. Not once did I find myself in pollution quite simply because there wasn’t any.

 Not to mention any automobile license plates, waste water pipes or to the extent a hospital. And there was no sign of the fashionably build houses.

  There was no policeman to be seen, yet nobody bothered to lock their door at night.

“We simply live our lives according to our own rules”.

Said one of them we have never been very interested in who was in power on the mainland.

Is such timeless freedom really possible??

Weird Facts about things that choose to surround my life:

-Times Of India thinks the GRE and GMAT are 'prestigious' examinations. I wonder if they'll give Sowmya (she scored very well in GRE) a Bharat Ratna, then?
-There's a confectionary shop near ma friend's house that says in big bold letters: FRIENDS Bakers and Freakers. I get the Bakers part, really I do. But I think its not a good advert of their products if they say they freak as well.
-Also near the same place is a Dry Cleaner's shop. The business establishment is called "Albino Dry Cleaners". They clean Human Beings as well? To a nice and shiny white? Remember that time when I told you people are stupid? I rest my case.
-India is obsessed with marriage. Yup, all of it. And maybe its just me, but go see Yuva. While Mani Ratnam was completely at home writing the movie, once he got to directing it, he seemed a bit uncomfortable during the parts where the character played by Esha Deol decides to move in with a guy called Mikey. He(Mani) wasn't too sure about what to do with it. He seemed to have written that part in because he thought that would make him understand the young, not the least because he thought it was ok. Now, don't go flamin me, I think it IS me. But the fact remains that India as a society, is fucking obsessed with marriage. It is measure of success(Hamaara bachaa settle ho gaya), it is one of the choicest of abuses(terey baap ke shaadi hai kya?), it is used to chide children(yeh kya ganda kamra hai? dahej phaila rakha hai?) and it is used as a form of jest(tere bache jiyen tera khoon piyen). This of course from a North Indian standpoint because thats who I am thats where I've spent a substantial part of my life. How can I say then, that the whole country is afflicted with this malady? I have friends and they told me. Don't go denying it or you WILL get married. Thats not going to be pretty.

Zee & Star Plus Fairy Tale's
I don't particularly like prologues. Especially the ones that seem like they are trying to grab your attention, but really are an obscure passage meant to confuse you into reading more so that it makes sense. I'll see if the tale needs a prologue at all after the story is complete. Which means my prologue is scrapped, and into the bin. Oh, and I'm writing the book on paper and pencil. This is to fool myself into thinking it is a bigger deal than I make of it. :) I'm still leaving a blank space with the protagonist's name, can't think of one that could be suitably vulnerable yet strong. It will come to me though. It usually does.

Books!
Chetan Bhagat's  book's  proves that a good writing style or rich prose is not necessary to tell an effective story. My bias towards Indian authors writing about Indian things not withstanding, I enjoyed the book for all its purported mediocrity. Not a book that can be recommended easily, but it does tell a story that can give you a few chuckles. Good for hyuks. Although I must warn you the narrative suffers from I am cool too it is. That is a fairly common malady that affects new writers writing semi autobiographical stories wherein the protaganist, however bound by self loathing and lack of confidence gets to do cool things that the author thinks should have happened to him, or at least his main character out of empathy for a fellow geek. Not that it is a bad thing, but that is one of the things that lends the book a certain naivete... which can be charming or stupid, depending on which side of the jaded book reader fence you are on. On the other hand, Mark Haddon's The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time, is so funny, and so utterly devoid of the unecessarily patronizing sweetness, trademark of children's fiction, that it WILL endear itself to you. Do give it a shot if its light reading you're into these days.
Finding the hardcover edition of Douglas Adams' Dirk Gently omnibus, in mint condition and for 150 INR can do things to your sanity. So please take whatever I say with a pinch of salt.

Movies!
You owe it to your numbed brain to watch Lost in Translation. Twice. And do everyone else a favor and shoot yourself if you find Murray anything short of brilliant. I found Lost In Translation this sort of Anti Megatokyo movie. While I am sure Piro would have loved it, its this movie that doesn't seem to exist in the same universe as Megatokyo, much less the same Tokyo. Nevertheless, my resolve to visit that country is strengthened even more. But I digress. LiT has a certain mellow happiness to it, despite being sardonic and even sad at times. I am a screenplay geek, and LiT is in my book of most well written screenplays ever. Another thing, why is it that each time I watch Memento, I come to a different conclusion about Leonard's life? 

Love Life

Let's call this the story of the untroubled times. Let's imagine a boy, late teens, just out of school, fresh into college. For the sake of anonymity lets just call him VT, hmmm? He is living the good life, enjoying every bit of college and the myriad possibilities of fun and intoxication it promises. Exploring life, and as yet unspoilt by the harsh realities of having to work for a living.

This boy, then, one beautiful August morning sees this girl. Unassuming, confident, slightly aloof. And beautiful. Hmm, he is intrigued. Distracted even. He has the next party to plan, video games to play, books to read, friends to meet, and study if need be; in short, no time for frivolities and yet... he is drawn to the girl. Yes, he is most definitely intrigued. He tries to strike a conversation but our boy is kind of shy too. I say 'kind of', because he does manage to speak to her. It takes a few days but speak to her, he does. They strike up an easy friendship.

The girl - fun loving, charming, intelligent, sometimes careful to the point of extremely cautionary, and yet at other times playful and teasing soon opens up to him. With emotional attraction comes physical attraction and more often than not, vice versa. Come September and he is in love. The big 'L'.
The boy thought he knew everything about girls and relationships. She proved him wrong. There were more surprises in a day with her than an entire month with most people. She showed him things he didn't think were possible. The passion they shared was at a height unparalleled hence, and unmatched since.

Yet, one day the relationship ended as abruptly as it had started. For years he pines for the same emotional and physical torrent he went through - stumbling from one relationship to another, sometimes surprised, but mostly disappointed. Other relationships and priorities took his time and attention now. Yet he knew that one day she will come back, something will bring you people back together.

It happened. There were a few hiccups in the beginning, and slight moments of embarrassment, but slowly it happened. The passion is unbelievable, the emotional storm even greater. This is what he was missing for so many days! Such long years had he waited for this to happen! The conversations, the long drives, the frantic moments of passion and the quiet, tender moments of love - everything is so much better this time. But without so much as a preamble, this time too comes at an end. He is not as heartbroken as the first time round, but the abruptness of it all does leave a slight sour taste in his mouth. Yet he knows that he will look back at these times as one of the best he has ever had.

Moments continued

Love is of immense possibilities, immense intrigue. Everyday you find something new, some new permutations and combinations. "I think everybody is naughty". No person can be completely pious and clean in his heart and all that. If i see a pretty woman, I will definitely appreciate her, not that i would want to sleep with her. Being naughty keeps everything alive-you as a person, in your relationship with your partner...:P. It's not a question of balance. Because i really love and it's my lifeline, it's the ground where i can experiment with myself it's my need to take out time. love is not a compromise at all.


            Love is not about looking for conventional looks and running around trees kind of stupidity. In love you do your own thing, not affected by what the other one does. Love is a challenge which gives me scope to dig more into myself and know my limitations as a human-being. Something should be there to make me feel inadequate. Otherwise, you get stereotyped. I hate  when people say "Yeh admi acha kartha hai, isey yehi karne do". i.e. I hate Branding.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                        I need someone who excites and unnerves me. I must be insecure to the extent that i should feel I'll make a fool of myself. Even if i fail in that, I shall be enriched. When in the present world love doesn't happen it is made.