Expressions of Life

His Own World

2011-08-25T01:10:00.000-07:00

It was an ordinary morning. I stepped into an almost vacant bus that would take me to work. In spite of all the empty seats, I saw a man dressed as a woman sitting next to the opposite gate. He seemed oblivious to the some-curious, some-demeaning stares and awkward glances his co-passengers shot at him.

Happy in his own world, he felt freedom in having the wind playfully smacking him in the face. The pallu of his gaudily sequined purple saree kept going out of control from behind him, and he let it fly about. Clearly control is not something he liked. He hummed to himself random songs of his heart as he continued to look outside, absolutely nonchalant about all eyes on him. He was happy in his own cocooned world.

Two hawker-women got on the bus. One of them held out her hand as a friend would to another, and helped her settle down. The second sat cross-legged on the floor, next to the cross-dresser. She elicited his gentle attention and a smile when she untied the the huge bundle around her shoulders to reveal a gurgling cherubic infant. The baby squinted against the sudden light and let out a small chuckle of delight. The mother and her friend laughed and the child was smothered with adoring kisses. The man extended his hand to touch the child's cheek. It was a touch that reminds one of a caregiver - soft, loving, tender, giving and passionate. The child reciprocated with a smile of recognition of that love.

Another stoppage, another girl boarded and allowed herself a space next to where all of us were. Impeccably attired in a carefully-careless sense of fashion, she finished texting on her swanky iPhone and crouched to play with the child in his mother's lap. She exchanged a few dialogues with the infant in baby language, a smile with the man and picked up a bangle from the lady's wares-box. She asked her how much they cost, picked up a few more and paid for them.

Yet another stop for the bus. The girl gave a last beatific smile to the baby and got off. More women embark. Two friends, in particular, looked in the direction of the small group and turned their faces away as if they had seen something unappealing. The man continued to be unaffected and hummed to the wind blowing away the sparse hair on his head. The women began piling their ware-boxes again and the mother strapped the baby to herself, preparing to get off at the next stop.

They did. The man waved them goodbye and kept looking outside the bus, into the sights blurred by speed and bright sunshine. He continued to sing to himself. I continued to admire his indifference.

The sneering ladies got off at the next stop. Now it was only me and the man. Another two stops before the bus reached the terminus. He looked up at me and in a gentle soft voice asked if it would be okay for him to sit on the seat; if I would mind. Mildly stunned for a few seconds, I welcomed him to take a seat. He smiled graciously, took a seat opposite me and went back to staring outside the bus through the window.

Feigned indifference? A want to avoid inconvenience or unnecessary and unwanted attention? Cautiousness to ward off hurtful mud slinging and name-calling? Thoughts rattled in my head as I tried to think of something to say, to ask, to start a conversation. He appeared so consumed in his world, that I did not want to intrude. I got up to leave. The man turned to look at me, curved his lips to give me a smile of friendly gratitude. I returned it with one that said, "you're welcome," and got off the bus.

I wove my way in and out of clusters of people, all the while wondering about the man, the woman inside him he wants to bring out, and the judgmental world he is carefully resisting.

Magical Mawlynnong

2011-02-08T02:08:00.000-08:00

Nestled barely four km from the Bangladesh border and 90 km away from Shillong - Mawlynnong - is the nearest I could get to paradise.

Though there were many interesting places in and around Shillong, my choice of visiting the small, picturesque village of Mawlynnong was not random. For, the village has earned the reputation of being the ‘cleanest village in Asia’. It was accorded the status in 2003 by the Discover India magazine.

After reaching Shillong, I and three of my friends set out for Mawlynnong on a Sunday morning in a taxi. The journey, I must say, was as beautiful as the destination. The road was relatively empty that day so we stopped on a ridge overlooking the Sohra plateau. We then climbed onto top of this small hillock and got an eagle's eye view of the terrain below us. It was at this instance that I wished I could get on a glider to enjoy the view.

After around three scenic hours of driving through meandering narrow roads, we arrived at Mawlynnong. ‘God’s Own Garden’ – the sign at the entrance of the village read. Inhabited by people belonging to the Khasi tribe, we were awestruck by Mawlynnong’s cleanliness and aesthetic beauty. The village was dotted with small houses each sporting a colourful neat garden. Clean concrete walkways and beautiful flowerbeds all along marked the village that is home to 87 Khasi households. Interestingly, there were no fences between the houses and huts. The village was spotless with no debris on the ground and no littering of any sort. The paths were also dotted with dustbins made of bamboo. Plastic bags are completely banned and waste disposal is environmentally friendly. Rubbish is thrown into a pit dug in a forest near the village where it is left to turn into compost.

There is a small tea stall at the entrance of the village. We stopped here for a cuppa and our guide Henry was there to receive us. He then took us to the Mawlynnong guest house, rather a tree house, which Carol Nongrum, a member of the Meghalaya Tourism Development Forum, had booked for us in Shillong.

The house, entirely made of bamboo, had two cosy rooms on both side and a central area. Outside was a machan which looked onto the jungle and a small waterfall. The machan was suspended at least 80 to 100 feet in the air, supported and constructed by bamboo on stilts. Connecting the verandah to the first machan, was a narrow bamboo bridge. Staying in a tree house like this one was indeed a childhood dream come true. The rooms had comfortable double beds also made of bamboo, clean linen and blankets, mosquito-nets and squeaky clean bathrooms.

We quickly placed our luggage in the house and set out to explore the nature’s marvels that Mawlynnong had in store for us. Henry took us to Riwai village which was 10 minutes drive away from Mawlynnong. Riwai housed one of the most interesting and unique creations of nature, a living root bridge formed by roots of Indian rubber trees. It was a 20 minute trek to the root bridge from the village. About 150 years old, the roots of two trees have been entwined by villagers to grow into a natural bridge. A gurgling stream flanked by dense forest flows below the root bridge giving the finishing touch to the picture.

We next proceeded towards an unnamed waterfall amid thick forests on the outskirts of Riwai. The roar of falling water, butterflies fluttering around and the mist – the sight was simply astounding at the bottom of the falls. We were sweating after the difficult trek to the falls and dipped our heads into the water to get some respite. The trek uphill was the perhaps the most tiring thing I had done in the recent past.

Henry took us to another spot nearby which defied the forces of nature. A huge flat rock lay balanced on a much smaller rock and has been so for how many years, none knew. It is believed to have been an old Khasi sacrificial altar.

After the tiring trip, we went back to our guest house to freshen up and have a late lunch. The caretakers, whose hut was on the guest house premises, served us local chicken, fish curry, rice and fresh vegetables that were seasoned with Khasi herbs.

Our evening at Mawlynnong was spent in lazy walks around the village and a visit to another attraction – the Sky View Point or the Hanging Bridge. The bridge was made out of bamboos spanning across two trees. Climbed in twos, we could clearly see the flooded plains of Bangladesh as far as the eyes could go.

Henry told us that Mawlynnong's reputation for cleanliness has even earned it a place on the State's tourism map. “Our village is a 100 years old, and we have learnt to maintain cleanliness for generations,” he said. There is a fine imposed by the village council for anybody found to be throwing litter around or cutting trees. Besides, children are taught to collect litter at an early age and regular inspections are carried out by village council on sanitation facilities in each house. True to his words, cleanliness seemed like a way of life for villagers here.

Since it was a long day for all of us, we returned back to our house early and decided to relax at the machan under a star-studded sky till it was time to retire for the day.

The next morning greeted us with a sunny smile. The village looked like a colourful canvas decorated with flowers of various hues. We finally said bye to Mawlynnong with this mesmerising sight in our eyes.

FACT FILE

Getting there: Mawlynnong is situated 90 km south to Shillong, Meghalaya. Taxis are available to the village from Shillong round-the-clock at the price range between Rs 1800 and Rs 2000. It preferable to hire the taxi for overnight stay and visits to the tourists spots nearby the village.

Where to stay: Mawlynnong guesthouse has two huts — the larger accommodates four persons and costs Rs 2,400 while the smaller sleeps two and costs Rs 1,000 each. To book, call Deepak Laloo or Carol Nongrum (0364-2502420, 09863115302). The caretakers prepare tasty meals that include some interesting local cuisine using meats, jackfruit and Khasi herbs. One has to pay an additional Rs 250 for the tourist guide and Rs 100 towards community welfare and upkeep besides the food and accommodation charges.

Hello all

2010-11-15T10:00:00.000-08:00

Hiiii friends,

Hope everyone is doing well. Just wanted to say that I have created a new photo blog (hopefully this will be updated regularly). Please visit Ephemeral Visions at http://www.dailydoseofpixels.blogspot.com/

Suggestions, Criticisms, Opinions, all are invited.

Haze

2010-08-22T12:52:00.000-07:00

Illusions and whims, thoughts and dreams,
cover the moment, I try to stay calm,
but its not in me, I screamed.
I screamed like crazy,
hoping that the sound would reach somewhere
It stayed in me, in my every bit, this confusion
and its aftermath, like the recoil of a bullet,
it hit me hard.
Never knew that I would ever dream the dream,
Never knew that I could also endure the pain afterward.

Expressions of Life: I am in You.....

2010-08-11T22:35:00.000-07:00

Expressions of Life: I am in You.....

The Twilight

2010-07-15T22:03:00.000-07:00

There is nothing like sitting on my terrace, after a fuzzy day at office. The soothing breeze, and the calm blue of the sky, and maybe some music or a novel to accompany me. Its just perfect to slow down the pace of this madness called life. But there are times when the sky sports a different hue. The twilight of the evening turns a fiery red. A red that creates an instant urge to immortalise the moment. This strong glow of the evening, quite surprisingly, has a calming effect on me. It tells me that all this anger and regret, is just a short-lived feeling. Just a while later, it will give way to the same mistakes all over again.

My Good Samaritans

2010-07-09T20:56:00.000-07:00

Bad spells in life come and go but it's strange, how it takes a bad spell to find out those good Samaritans one hears only in stories.
There are these people who are invisible to you on any normal day.

But it’s they who come out of no where and go out of their way to help you out of any situation. In the end, they return without asking for anything.They just go back to their daily lives leaving us awestruck and wondering, what motivated them to help out strangers like us.

A ride

2010-07-05T18:27:00.000-07:00

There is a fascination I have for traveling long distances in a bus which I hardly find in any other transport. I generally find flights to be fast to enjoy the journey and trains too crowded that I end up spending my entire time fighting for the space to enjoy the trip. Surprisingly the very small and confined seats in the bus which people are so fussy about give the opportunity to create the wonderful parallel universe to quietly slide away.

I end up spending hours watching the distant hills, the orange glimmer of the far away factories, the audacity of the overtaking cars, occasional empty petrol pumps, the sparsely-lit shops in the dark and every small amusing piece constituting the vast expanse. The pleasant shiver of the cold wind and Floyd in the ears makes sure to keep me in this reverie undisturbed by the blare of the movie being played occasionally in the bus. Every journey I take reminds of the distant imaginary lands we used to read about in our childhood and were so captivated to. The mood created helps to put my belief and thoughts together. The questions which bother day and night get replaced by ideas to solve or the desire just to let them go.

Even the world seems to be much clearer. Turns out, it’s easier to see the washed face of the world left behind from a distance and at a speed where it won’t be able to catch up, at least for a while.

Moments

2010-06-24T20:17:00.000-07:00

Life at times seems quiet and serene.

There are lots of people around you. So is a lot of noise and talk. You can't seem to hear it though. Its a mad rush of people moving around you, their words seem more like actions. Actions, which are not supposed to make any sense without the words, but seem to have an uncanny symphony to it. Slightly confusing it is. The slightest noise seems to affect your attention. And then at times like this, the noises are nothing more than just... noises. Curiosity smiles at how the mind works.

These are interesting times. You are trying to plan something in your head. Something which is more than just mere looking into the future a few days. Something a lot more special, in a way. People around you stop by, only to laugh at you, maybe. But you know, what you are working on is much beyond their understanding. It would be wise of them to just sit back and watch. When will people realise?

This careful captivation reminds me of a time in the past. The spring of '06. February to be more precise. The beauty of the events, each independent of the other, yet in a complete concert, was a pleasure to live through. These are not just mere memories. They give you a sense of hope. Something that you try to find in people around. Foolish, actually.

These are times I look forward to.

(PS: Life has changed a lot ever since my last post in Expressions. A big Hello to all my Blogsville mates. Hope everyone's doing great.)

Anger

2009-05-02T03:26:00.000-07:00

I gain strength, courage and confidence by every experience in which I must stop and look fear in the face.... I say to myself, I've lived through this and can take the next thing that comes along ~ Eleanor Roosevelt

Here's to the crazy ones. The misfits. The rebels. The trouble-makers. The round heads in the square holes. The ones who see things differently. They're not fond of rules, and they have no respect for the status-quo. You can quote them, disagree with them, glorify, or vilify them. But the only thing you can't do is ignore them. Because they change things. They push the human race forward. And while some may see them as the crazy ones, we see genius. Because the people who are crazy enough to think they can change the world, are the ones who do ~ Think Different

Your vision will become clear only when you look into your heart. Who looks outside, dreams. Who looks inside, awakens ~ Carl Jung

People are unreasonable, illogical and self-centered. Love them anyway. If you do good, people will accuse you of selfish, ulterior motives. Do good anyway. If you are successful, you will win false friends and true enemies. Succeed anyway. The good you do today will be forgotten tomorrow. Do good anyway. Honesty and frankness make you vulnerable. Be honest and frank anyway. The biggest person with the biggest ideas can be shot down by the smallest person with the smallest mind. Think big anyway. What you spend years building may be destroyed overnight. Build anyway. People really need help but may attack if you help them. Help people anyway. Give the world the best you have and you might get kicked in the teeth. Give the world the best you've got anyway ~ Bishop Abel Muzorewa

There's a lot of anger in me today. Will things truly be ok? We don't know if they will remain the same, change for the best or change for the worst... and that is what life brings us... questionable moments of this sinking time... time that washes away or lifts us up to the surface...

How much more of this can one take? Others do have it worse that I do, but I am sinking and I am questioning and I am wondering about everything and anything. Am I even making sense? He says that everything will be ok. I remain stern on my opinion... that he doesnt know that for sure, but neither do I.

(There are occasions in life which drive me absolutely mad. And when I feel am lost, I resort to reading these four quotes again and again. It just helps me calm down.)

100th post

2009-04-16T19:35:00.000-07:00

The leaf has turned yellow

Its brown stalk weak

Slowly drooping at the dusk

With its future bleak.

The growing darkness

The rising storms

Thunder and lightning

Bring it down.

Yellow to brown it turns

From dust it rose

Unto dust it returns

Yet till eternity, life returns.
......

I've been counting and recounting the number of posts I've written because I just can't believe this is my 100th! This has got to be the epitome of "time flies when you're having fun". When I first started my blog, my intention was simply to keep a running record of all of the ludicrous, bizarre, unbelievable things that could only happen to me.

While there has been a bit of that, my blog has evolved into the place where all of the wacky, eclectic components of my personality (and my life) converge to paint a picture of my world. The coloring is definitely outside of the lines...and sometimes goes right off the paper! This journey has been amazing, though. I can look back and see where I've wandered off the beaten path and, all along the way, there was one (or more) of you to walk alongside of me or gently pull me back onto the trail.

Odd though it may seem, to 'outsiders', the friendships I have formed with my blog-buddies are as significant as any I have formed in my 'real' life. What astounds me, on a daily basis, is how intertwined our lives become and how familiar we are with the details of each others daily routines.

I'm so grateful, to each and every one of you, who has reached out to me and allowed me to be a small part of your world!

My lil garden

2009-04-11T02:59:00.000-07:00

The balmy weather and my blooming flower plants helped me overcome my laziness and get out on the roof yesterday for the first time this year. And what a nice visit it was! I spent about an hour looking around, cleaning up the dead leaves from the rose plants and planting some jasmine shoots.

These flowers and their fragrance seem downright magical to me.

Haunted night

2009-03-28T21:01:00.000-07:00

Silent moon keeps a watch,

A lonely dog cries.
While dark shadows pass.

OK people, this is my first attempt on Haiku. Do let me know if U all like it or not. Any suggestions on improving or further polishing the style?

Reality

2009-03-23T00:37:00.000-07:00

Reality drips. A needle jabbed into my arm feeds me droplets of life. Sitting on a divider between two roads, I see a stream of humanity flow by. Loneliness is very unforgiving. She refuses to let me go with the flow. The black grey of the endless roads on either side of me goes on meandering into unceasing madness. Rubber tyres swirl dirt with the black smoke of exhausts into sculptures of waiting time. Whirlpools of confusion anchor me to my conscience. Razor sharp questions cut into my skin. Reality drips.

Reality burns. Matchsticks of imagination that scrape the naked flint of my dreams, ignite my skin. Sitting on the banks of pristine blue waters, I see a humanity trickle by. Loneliness is very demanding. She refuses to let the trickle delight my senses. The lush green all around me melts into anaesthetic layers of order. Roller skates sliding on slipstreams of morning fog swirl dollops of frozen time. Pin pricks of confusion sew me into my conscience. Questions burst from a short-fused life singe my skin. Reality burns.

Love Lost

2009-03-12T12:40:00.000-07:00

When the jasmine flowers had blossomed in the moonlit night and the earth had smelt of rain. When the sounds of crickets resonated in the lush breeze and the blades of grass conspired under the starry sky. Then he had seen her for the first time, bathing in the Jamuna. The currents of running water caressed the folds of her wet sari and his heart filled with jealousy for every drop. The glistening curls of her black tresses bewitched him with their black magic. He had stood there, hidden behind the old Neem, enchanted by this mirage of pure beauty.

...

Twilight had painted the sky a vehement orange. He waited by the banks of the river to catch a glimpse of her. She used to come out into the balcony everyday. Her ivory silk scarf fell on the red sandstone and made it shiver with life. He watched in awe as the setting sun made her face glow like an angel. The cliff dropped, straight and majestic, a sheer fifty feet below the balcony, as if the earth itself had been hewed into the shape of a strong wall for the fort. It was a fitting place for a princess. Just below, the river bank was of solid rock, where he washed clothes.

...

That evening she had run out, breathless. Her hair was not done and was blowing like the mane of a wild stallion in the wind. She seemed to rise above the balcony railing and float in the air. The sun had suddenly turned crimson, filling the skies with the blood splattered on the earth. The last thing he remembered hearing was a scream drowning the river waters in its misery.

Holi Hai...

2009-03-11T12:22:00.000-07:00

A very Happy Holi to everyone.

Nostalgia is weighing heavy in the air today!!

How we would try to get up early and start filling up water balloons, prepare packs of
different colors which we can carry along the complex where we stayed. We would go to each house, cover them with all sorts of colors and drag them out to join us for the next target - the next neighbour. And meanwhile grabbing mouthwatering sweets - pede n gulab jamun... at every other house. We being kids would be running here and there..making lots noise, trying to save ourselves from balloons seen flying in different directions.

Anyone found hiding behind the corner of a wall...a bucket of coloured water would hit his head immediately....hahah...yes a bucket full of colored or plain water from someone's balcony :)

And at the end, we were black, blue with streaks of gold and silver and dripping wet! It would be nearly impossible to recognise one another! By afternoon when everyone would be too tired or rather would have not an inch uncovered with color, we would go home and take a shower. Mom would have kept buckets full of warm water ready for us to start the long scrubbing and cleaning process. In spite of all the thorough cleaning, there would still be traces of some pink color left in ears and finger nails - which would take few days to go away.

Then some lovely lunch and more sweets. And after that a loooong peaceful afternoon sleep.

Love those days. Have a blast u all.

A New Beginning...

2009-02-05T02:46:00.000-08:00

She sat in front of the mirror, lost in her own thoughts. The mirror reflected her inner feelings - sans artificiality, sans negativity, yet she was so unware of her reflection in that mirror... true, she was lost somewhere, somewhere deep inside herself.

Near the mirror was a ring - a beautiful diamond studded piece. Someone would have spend a fortune getting it...and it had been preserved with utmost care - it was his first gift to her. So it was indeed precious! He was going to propose her all over again... in front of all her friends and family members. "Propose all over again..." these words ringed somewhere in her ears, and pierced her heart.It was a year back that they had actually met. Love at first sight for both of them, everything was just perfect. But hardly a few months into the relationship, things changed. He was a confused person, and she got caught into the turmoil of his confused mind, slipping deeper into oblivion as days passed by...Their love couldnt stand the test of time and his family. He could never dare to stand against his family to support her. So they changed their ways... not that she didnt try to make things clear... it would have somehow not worked. He wasnt capable of contributing anything. He wanted to start afresh.

And he was back.... after almost one year. He had realised that he couldnt do without her... his life had become a mess without her advices and her support. No one could make it smooth, not even his family. So he wanted to come back... he needed her!She never expected this to happen. But she had to make a decision. After breaking up with him, she never looked at anyone, she could never fall in love. Her family tried hard to find alliances for her, but she would not give in to meet anybody. "She had decided the worst for herself, and finally someone had turned up for her....someone she loved, someone whom she would be very happy with." This was the moment her family members and friends were waiting for... finally, she was going to get her share of happiness.

Everything was done, every preparation was complete. They had elaborate plans....friends going out for treat, family members excited about the dinner... and she was still sitting in front of that mirror. She contemplated for long... she was capable of much more, she had her own dreams and aspirations...she wasnt a mere puppet in the hands of anybody. She wuldnt leave everything to chance when she was capable to make changes. She took a deep breath, and drew that ring out of the case. Holding it in her hands, she descended the stairs to the living room. She was looking very beautiful in the pink sari, her glow beyond description... she indeed looked changed. And then she asked her maid to get the suitcases from her room. Everybody was puzzled... She handed that ring to her mother, and asked her to give it to him, coz she didnt need it anymore. Perhaps she had now understood the worth of 'me' hidden somewhere in herself. She had understood her worth, she would no longer let that 'me' suffer for her sake! The words 'I, me, myself' were no longer references to her body, but they reflected her soul and her true self. She would not let this happen... she had taken the accomodation offered by her school. She would live her life now......

She walked out confidently... the taxi had come. She sat in the taxi, and headed towards a new future...a future which she would build for herself. She felt sooo liberated, and sooo proud of herself.And as she left the lane for the highway to her freedom, his car stopped in front of her house............

New Look

2009-01-26T08:15:00.000-08:00

Hello People...

I’ve been away from blogging for a while. For those of you who read Expressions regularly, I apologise for not writing. But honestly, all this while, I was trying to change the template of my blog. And after hours of breaking my head on some stupid html codes for several days, I ended up with this one.

So now that my blog has got its much needed face lift, do let me know what do you all think about it. Now I need some honest feedback. The template looks different in different IE versions but it looks the best in Mozilla.

Take care U all.

Cheers 2009

2009-01-01T01:05:00.000-08:00

May this new year bring many opportunities your way, to explore every joy of life and may your resolutions for the days ahead stay firm, turning all your dreams into reality and all your efforts into great achievements.

Happy New Year Everyone

Merry Christmas

2008-12-24T09:22:00.000-08:00

At Christmas

A man is at his finest towards the finish of the year;

He is almost what he should be when the Christmas season's here;

Then he's thinking more of others than he's thought the months before,

And the laughter of his children is a joy worth toiling for.

He is less a selfish creature than at any other time;

When the Christmas spirit rules him he comes close to the sublime.

-- Anonymous

To everyone who has read this blog over the past three years, and to those who have participated in the discussions, thank you. I hope you all have a merry Christmas.
May God bless you all and your families.

Let go...

2008-12-22T03:01:00.000-08:00

The light mist at the horizon blurred the sea into the sky in one uniform shade of cobalt blue. She sat on the jagged outcrop of rock, overlooking the bay. The wind had not changed, in all these years. It still sang to her, a different tune every time - just what she wanted to hear. The blues it sang now seemed beckoned her to fly far away, from beyond the open sea.

She stared into empty space with tired eyes. Half open with memories, half closed with a life gone by. Clouds that had morphed into the shape of wooden horses, were melting like orange chocolate souffle. She could see the surf breaking on the shore. Flashes of white hope that disappeared as soon they formed.

Sixty one. Had it really been that long? She held her right hand in front of her and traced the lines with her left hand. Another thing that had not changed. Her aging fingers were shaking now. Funnily though, because she had never been more sure of what she was going to do next.
She opened the chain of her leather purse. Yes, it was time. She took out the crumpled, folded sheet of paper from the purse. The folds had become as much a part of the sheet as the writing. She opened the letter and read it one last time. Time, that seemed to have a way of getting lost in its folds.

Threads of a frayed memory,

Yarns of a future that has passed,

A night wrapped in a letter you wrote,

And a few days of monsoon.

Autumn of a few crumpled leaves,

An evening lost in a fight,

Clothes let out to dry, and a dry heart,

Crescent of the new moon.

Permission to breathe one last time,

Last moist breath of that parting kiss,

Mottled pages of that novel you wrote,

Now, then, sometime soon.

A few stones broke loose and rolled down, as she stood up. Her legs had gone to sleep. Yet, she wanted to peer down and see exactly where the rocks broke the fall of the nothingness around her. She bent her head down and held her loose spectacles with one hand, lest it fall down before time. That would be such a pity. She did not want to loose a second of the view, all the way down.
This place was just right. She could see the endless sea before her, the infinite sky over and the hard, lifeless rocks below. "Grandma, grandma!" A voice called. She turned around. A small figure in a polka dotted skirt was running towards her from the direction of the foster care home. "It's time for dinner, grandma." "Coming, sweetheart."

With one last look at the letter in her hand, she let it go. She stood there as it dissolved into the wet evening. A tiny hand gently slipped into her trembling fingers. "Let's go, grandma." "Yes, my love, lets go."

Mumbai's horror

2008-11-28T09:25:00.000-08:00

Mumbai. A city of unending nerve, a pulse that never stops and a hum that never dies. And on November 26, fanaticlly desperate, religious extremists in their misguided youthful and mad frenzy brought this beautiful city to it's knees. And not graciously, but in a crumbling, chaotic, helpless heap.

Since the attack started, I have been waiting for it to end, but my wait seems endless. Its unimaginable, this long stretched out fight. I completely understand the limitations of the security personnel, who want to safeguard the lives of innocent people caught in between, and there is not other way to it. I can not even dare to imagine how it must be for the hostages. My heart bleeds for the woman stuck with a six month old baby, and no food and no guarantee of when the ordeal will get over.

Hope all this clears as soon as possible without further heavy damages. No wonder, lives of thousands of people will be transformed due to this unfortunate incident. Many have lost their kin, friends and suffered losses which may never be recovered.

Let's pray for the departed souls and try our best to stand by those in grieving.

(All the pictures have been sourced from Associated Press and Reuters)

Wedding Gifts!!!

2008-11-23T01:58:00.000-08:00

Buying wedding gifts has always presented a dilemma. I've never been an adept gift chooser, hence the ardent detestation for the task. However, faced with the invitation to my dear friend's brother's marriage I just had to go and get a suitable present.

First came fixing a budget - that's the easiest - my purse dictates the terms there. So with a upper spending ceiling of Rs 500/- in mind I landed up at the neighbourhood gift shop. Lined all along the walls were statuettes of various gods and goddesses. Much as I would like the Lord Ganesha to bless the couple at the auspicious occasion, his bronzed image did not impress me as a appropriate gift. Other choices included a pair of bronze giraffes, ornate candle stands, picture frames. None of these satisfied the vanity of the gift giver in me and so I ventured for greener pastures.

A 15 minutes rickshaw ride landed me at the nearest big shopping complex. Lined along the road were a whole bevy of choices - a couple of gift shops, a watch shop, few garment stores and a couple of home appliance dealers. Amidst all these the "Sriganesh Bartan Bhandaar" beckoned to me - hmmm seems distinctly familiar - I thought. With much trepidation I entered, and came face to face with the toothy grin of the person manning the counter.

Ji Madam? Kuch paanchso rupiye main dikhaiye - gift deene layak. Ji Madam! Out came a tea set - blue coloured china. Hmmm looks - errr - the big fish on the tea pot sported a huge grin - what else do you have? Ye dekhiye Madam - another tea set - this one bright lemon yellow in colour. Ye Caaffee set hai Madam. I noted that the cups had COFFEE etched on them with a simmering cup drawn on the side. Inspired by my disinterested look, the man produced a frosted glass plate set - yeh dekiye Madam - microwave proof, dishwasher proof, available in two designs Madam. Hmmmmm - I gave a very pensive look at the glass plate -how much? Only 650/- Madam - No, no, budget se zyada ho gaya! Aapke liye 550 Madaaaammm ...

Before I could protest any further, out came a flurry of casseroles in all shapes and sizes. Very useful Madam - has inner glass bowl, microwave proof, branded product Madam - Milton - very good quality. Hmmm how much - 400/- ah ... this looks really good! I turned the thing all around - the lid looks a bit dirty - purana hai kya? No, no Madam - I'll clean it - he sprayed Colin on the lid and rubbed it sparkling clean. I pondered a while and decided the newly wed couple would be in dire need of a casserole when starting a new family - hmmm- maybe they'll thank me for it someday ... and I smiled to .... Ho gaya Madam - Isko gift wrap kara dijiye. After little haggling with the price, it came down to 350/- and I was suddenly feeling very proud of myself.

Feeling content with my acquisition, my eyes now wandered to a mother n daughter pair beside me. They were looking at some crystal glasses, presumably as a gift for someone. Payment Madam - Ah yes .. - I paid - the crystal glasses looked really nice - set of six glasses, would have made a better present but must be really costly. Ye lijiye Madam - pack ho gaya - Thanks.

Ye glasses ka set kitne ka hai? This ... only 200/- Madam - ek set aapko bhi de doon? I collected my gift and walked out of the store.

A daily routine...

2008-11-13T01:32:00.001-08:00

I walk down a long well lit street to the bus depot from where I would catch a bus home. And the world erupts in a flurry of headlights, taillights, street lights and red lights. As if being blinded is not enough, I am simultaneously deafened by blaring vehicle horns from all around. Between all this commotion, I accompany two college students, a portly aunty all tucked up in a shawl and a nervous old man holding a perky kid's hand, in their attempts to cross the road. We alight from the pavement, dodging first the bicycle rider, then the Maruti 800 and then stop dead in our tracks to let the OSRTC bus pass. The wine red Tavera screeches to a halt inches before aunty, just as she puts up her palm as the divine gesture asking him to stop. Everybody scrambles onto the safety of the road divider, and then a repeat performance ensues for the other half of the road.

I walk into a dark bus depot, with a solitary street light marking the spot where the peanut seller has setup his stall. Five rupees for hundred grams seems to be the going rate for roasted peanuts. I stuff my pockets with peanuts and chiki(small tablets of jaggery and peanut seeds). While I make the purchase, the bus strolls into the depot, like a drunken elephant. Everybody scrams to get a good seat, as do I. The conductor bellows at everybody to pay him the exact change for the ticket, while a dilapidated radio blares:

Zindagi to bewafa hai, ek din thukraayegee,
Maut mehbooba hai apni, saath lekar jaayegee,
Mar ke jeene ki ada jo duniya ko sikhlaayega,
Woh mukaddar kaa sikandar, jaaneman, kehlayega.

Another hour, and I'll be home.

Life

2008-10-31T11:11:00.000-07:00

I have lain eternally in wait, to listen, to see,

I have poured my life into the heart of this earth,

I have searched for the unknown in the midst of the known,

That is why, in wonder, that is what has awakened my song.

The lines are from a Tagore poem, sung beautifully by Debabrata Biswas in the Ritwik Ghatak film Komal Gandhar. Tagore juxtaposes the eternal bond between man and his self with the bond between man and nature. The harmony and the wonder that spring from and define this bond gives rise to these words from the poet.

Diwali Wishes

2008-10-27T02:23:00.000-07:00

Happy Diwali everyone!!

May this Diwali be a harbinger of the best of luck, laughter and happiness for all of you.

May this Diwali be as bright as ever.

Have a wonderful time and spread cheer and smiles among everyone.

You

2008-10-19T04:04:00.000-07:00

When the twinkling stars in the velvet sky put on their most mischievous smile, and when the moon, full in all its pristine white aura stood witness to the magic in the breeze,

I saw you in my dream.

... Girlie talk ...

2008-10-13T12:50:00.001-07:00

Women are supposed to be unpredictable, emotional, sentimental and way-out-there crazy at times. Being a predictable woman who tries not to make things too complicated by conforming to established notions, my range of moods fits the general category of women-moods. One womanly attribute that men can't seem to fathom is their ability to chatter about issues ranging from eye-brow tweezing and how much of salt or oregano to add to your soup to women's rights and questions dealing with existential paradoxes (I just made up that word but, man! it sounds so...intellectual).

This womanly chatter can range from a few seconds to a few hours, it's hard to say what captures our fancies at that instant. And I tell you, while men make great listeners, understanding beaus and flexible friends ("I want to eat only desi khana today, even if its greasy, fatty and is probably reducing my life-span by a considerable amount!" - they smile and nod and tag along, all for our selfish-selves), they just are not meant to understand or contribute to this kind of chatter.

"You spent an hour discussing what?!"

"Hair coloring. You see, we can use henna and herbal products and be oh-so-natural or we can for home-coloring-kits or we can go to the parlor and get a professional color shine if we are willing to spend a few rupees more."

"Ok, so what did you discuss for the remaining 55 minutes?"

"I just told you!"

Stuff like that. The purely girly thrill that we get by indulging in these trivialities is something that is beyond the grasp of your regular male brain. I don't often get the chance to indulge in girly talks but I always feel great after one of those rare, giggly, girly talks. And before you can snicker, let me point out that they are not always trivial talks, we also like to talk about issues facing women, women-power and how we need to stand up for ourselves. I particularly like talking about these issues just because of the here-she-goes-again look that paints itself on anyone's face who's listening to me. That's just a side-benefit, I am serious whenever I talk about equality between the sexes...but that does not mean we get to take the trash out and mow the lawn. But, I am serious about equality. Oh! and we also won't accompany our beaus to their bi-monthly hair cuts ("Just get rid of as much as you can" and my BP is waaaay up there!), but we would like them to accompany us to our beauty parlors so they can tell us if our new hair style and hair color accentuates our skin tone (whatever that means!) :p

Wise men (who have nothing better to do) are always telling us not to take life too seriously. Since, we are good listeners and we heed to good advice, we are just doing that. See, that's a whole new dimension to our chatter.

A deep and significant explanation behind a woman's psyche (Catch me in the right frame of mind and I amaze myself by the amount and quality of nonsense I can come up with :)
So yes, the next time you find a guy rolling his eyes (with envy?) when a bunch of girls chatter away, just point him to this highly scientific explanation of why women talk...three times more than men!

Divine...

2008-10-07T14:29:00.000-07:00

Hi friends,

Construction of a Durga idol is said to be an arduous task and giving the divine look to her face and eyes, even tougher. I went pandal hooping today. Saw many idols but none were as beautiful as this one.

Festivity in air

2008-10-06T03:51:00.000-07:00

Today is Shasthi, the sixth day of Navratri and the first day of Durga Puja.

As I pulled the bike out of the gate, I sniffed the air. It was crisp, clean and yet I could faintly smell the Shiuli, the tiny white flowers with their deep yellow stalks which carpeted the garden at my house. This is the season they bloom in abundance, pristine white, heady fragrance offering them for the Puja.

Wishing all my blog friends

A very Happy Puja

I wish I could...

2008-10-02T19:13:00.000-07:00

Linger in the woods.

Where soughing wind tells a story.

Passing on secrets to me

Singing in all its glory.

Linger in the mountains.

And feel the fresh air in my face.

Walking amidst the tall grass.

With no footsteps left to trace.

Linger in snow.

And loose myself in my mirth.

Find and ground myself somewhere.

And melt away into the earth.

Linger on the shore.

And feel the sand under my feet.

Taste the salinity in the air.

And sleep to the ocean’s beat.

Linger in my dreams.

And make the most of my imagination.

Slay and win over my demons.

And reign over my fears.

Diana Needs

2008-10-01T19:34:00.000-07:00

My blogger friend Cindrella tagged me with this. As
per the rule, I would have to type my name followed by
NEEDS. So as per google, I need:

* Diana needs a wealthy husband who can provide her with the high life she craves

Ok, this one, was pretty funny.. it made me laugh for a long time

* Diana needs to know this then email EBay and tell them that one of her books is on sale that is an ARC

I didn´t know I had a book on sale,, but ok,,, I hope it makes me rich

* Diana needs little introduction: she was married to Prince Charles

God!! what a curse!

* How James Hewitt's weakness served Diana's needs and how his insecurities enabled her to control their relationship

Now,,,, wasn´t I married to Charles,, I guess he wasn´t enough

Ok, this tag was a pretty interesting one. And as per rules, I will have to pass this on to another five bloggers. And the five are - Vinay, Hemant, Siddharth, Agnes and Anwesa

Joys of Life

2008-09-26T09:10:00.000-07:00

This week, during a mild rebellion, I pulled of my heels and traipsed barefoot through the beautiful grass that surrounds a park near my house. I was suddenly transported back to when I was a child, dashing along in bare feet as my friends and I played. There was a very special, magical feel to the grass between my toes.

I wanted to run and romp like a kitten, to spin like a top. So I did. Barefooted, I extended my arms and spun like a top. It was an exhilarating sensation. I wanted to laugh.

I have a dog that lives in the house all the time because I could not bear it if he were attacked and injured, or worse, run over. He often tries to escape, but that day, I understood his desire. So I carried him to the park, and for almost two hours watched him chase moths and leaves and cats. I watched him dash up tree trunks, and vanish into the hedge. I watched him roll in patches of dry earth, and sniff flowers and grass. When I finally brought him in, he curled up in my lap, snuggling close.

I understood. I'd feel the grass beneath my toes that day too.

I have a big house and everything else that meet my luxury. I have the 2 to 10 job that ensures my financial independence. These are not, though, the things that bring me joy in life.

The things that bring me joy in life are grass between my toes, watching a dog bounding after a butterfly, the memory of my grandmother's perfume dancing with the scent of garlic and onion as she cooked a Sunday meal, the smile of a child eager to give the answer, the voice of a friend on the phone saying, "Hey!"

We all wander away from the real happiness in life. Or perhaps we're pushed. We don't want to seem childish and immature, so we rush forward at full steam, trying to convince everyone we're all grown up. We compete for the top honors, we struggle for the biggest paychecks, and then one day wake up and realise that we never have time to enjoy those paychecks.

As adults, we're afraid to act child like. We're afraid to run barefoot in the grass and to spin like a top. We don't want people to look at us strangely. We don't want to risk that one sticker finding its way into our bare foot.
And so, we miss the greatest joys of life.

But not anymore. Not for me. My dog and I have made a pact. We're going to run barefoot through the grass together!

For Him

2008-09-06T11:57:00.001-07:00

I searched again today.
Yet another futile attempt.

I searched again in spaces big and small, inside my heart and outside, in sounds and in silence, in sight and behind closed eyes. I searched for a glimpse, a shadow, a word, a glance, a breath?

I found none.

Love that was everywhere - the sand that let me leave my mark on it, the breeze that kissed me without asking, the sounds of music that I carried within me, the colors of joy splashed all around me - they all came together to surround me like a warm embrace. I held on tight, knowing and not believing that there will come a time when I have to let go. So, I closed my eyes and slept like a child, dreaming dreams that kept my illusion alive. And then one day, they all left and they took with them my world of love.

It was not him that I searched for. I searched for the world that I created for myself when he was around. I searched for the lightness in my step and in my heart, for the beauty around me and within me, I searched for colors, melody, life and love.

I searched for the me that lived only for him, only for those moments shared with him.

Ganesh Chaturthi

2008-09-04T03:10:00.000-07:00

A day late, but I wanna wish all my blog friends

A Very Happy Ganesh Chaturthi

The blessings of Lord Ganesha are solicited for the success of any auspicious work and for spiritual and material success. The festivities and sharing associated with the festival reminds us of the significance of imbibing the sublime values in our lives to usher in a humane society. This is one occasion that brings people together, reaffirms the secular traditions of India and celebrates the spirit of brotherhood.

Happy Blogging dearies.

My Journey...

2008-09-01T12:13:00.000-07:00

Things have a way of coming full circle. We all return to where we start from - whole or in parts - alone or together - we all return home - dead or alive.

Two years ago I left home with a dream in my eyes. A professional dream. A personal dream. A choice. A promise. I left behind a lot of people who loved me and travelled in search of more. More what? I did not know then.

Now I do. It has been a good two years. I have grown. Professionally, I have blossomed into my independence.

Personally, I have revelled in my loneliness. I have made the very lonely trip into the dark corners of my heart, hoping to catch a glimpse of someone to share my life with.

I have, almost always, met unrecognisable reflections of myself on the way. Gruesome reflections. Sadder and darker versions of myself. I have doubted and feared myself. I have wounded and pierced my heart. Again and again, till the tears have dried up. I have discovered magic. Touched perfection. Witnessed the birth of pure, distilled beauty. I have burnt in the fires of hell.

Drowned in splashes of tumultuous desire. Become my worst nightmare. And yet, I have retained the conviction to return to loving myself.

In all this, I have managed to romance my dream. In my fear, anger, hate, jealousy, pettiness, melancholy, I have nurtured my soppy romantic idiotic self.

People have told me that my variety of love does not exist in this world, and then have suddenly chanced upon it where they least expected it. People have called my ideas Utopian. And yet these worn out ideas have borne the weight of my dreams all this while. They have salvaged them through the ravages of this material world.

For dreams are lived by mad people. People, like me who can see their dreams in some one's eyes. Tangible dreams. Salty dreams. Silent dreams. Dreams that cuddle up with me and soothe me to sleep on long, cold, lonely nights. Dreams that come without price tags and expectations, without weight and light, without burden and freedom, with out and with in. Dreams that are neither born in, nor borne of needs and wants. A dream that is me. And I am still standing. And so is my dream..

First time

2008-08-31T02:49:00.000-07:00

Well, I'm excited! My blogger friend Hemu gave me the Blogging Friends Forever Award! I'm excited because my blog has never received an award before and because Hemu is one person whose work I admire so much - it means that much more! Thank you, Hemant!

Here are the rules for the Blogging Friends Forever Award:
1. The winner may put the logo on his/her blog.
2. Put a link to the person you received the award from.
3. Nominate 5 blogs.
4. Put links to the blogs.
5. Leave a message for your nominees.

Here are my nominees:
Keshi: http://keshigirl.blogspot.com
Siddhrath: http://silentrecollections.blogspot.com
Cindrella: http://intelligensia-cinderella.blogspot.com
Hemu's Picture Blog: http://hemuphoto.blogspot.com
Vinu: http://vinumohanlal.blogspot.com

There are a lot of great blogs I enjoy but when I had to narrow it down to five these are the ones I came up with as the ones that inspire me!
And lest I forget, Hemu created certain pictures for all his blogroll mates....And I liked what he created for me....so here's the pic....

Once again...Thanx a tonne Hemu....
HUGS.

From the pages (Tagged)

2008-08-30T20:33:00.001-07:00

My Dad keeps reminding me that we are what we read. I've read a considerable amount of books so far and I will probably read many more before I die. I have come across many blogs which have been tagged. But my friend Keshi (INTELLIGENCE n BEAUTY PERSONIFIED) tagged me with this beautiful quotes tag. The rules are that you will have to pen down five quotes from five of your favourite books and also tag five people at the end. So here goes!

* "...milliseconds influence centuries."

What If... by Robert Cowley

* "Satan laughs at our work, mocks at our wisdom, but trembles when we pray."

The Kneeling Christian

* "Often our feelings lie beneath the surface,Hidden by the smiles we wear upon our faces;emotions are concealed, we bear our sorrows on our own,Grown-ups only cry when they're alone."
Never Give It Up by Shelia Walsh

* "Stalin's concentration camps were the only place in Russia where people could really criticise the state. Freedom came only in captivity."

Star Warriors by William J. Broad

* "Seemingly senseless pain and trauma engulfs much of life. If you seek to follow Him, you must be content to trust His character rather than your ability to understand. The difference between a knife in the hand of an assassin and a knife in the hand of a surgeon is intent: both inflict severe pain. You must decide whether God is an assassin or a surgeon. But remember, your choice does not change God, only your opinion."

Thoughts From the Diary Of A Desperate Man by Walter A. Henrichsen

There are many other books which have really developed me but the above are what come to mind when i think about what I think. And finally, I tag ... Hemu, Siddharth, Vinu and Nithin.

Thanx Keshi...HUGS

Endless Journey of Dreams

2008-08-25T13:12:00.000-07:00

Afloat in grey mist, a canoe glides through still water. There is no end to the mist and the boatman is in no hurry to reach anywhere. What does one do when one is on a journey of one's dreams, except dream. Dreams do not particularly fare well all the time, amidst the silent shadows of reality. But dream on we must.

In me, I've found the most compulsive dreamer I've ever met. I dream by choice and by habit. It's my escape and my inspiration. It's the amalgamation of all my what could have been's and what can be's. It also the sole keeper of all my fears, my hopes, fantasies and frustrations. In it I see myself, as myself, alone and devoid of the artifice of the world around me. I see myself, because of what I am, not because of what the world has decided I should be.

Do I dream in words, sounds, images? I do not know. Do I only dream when I am asleep? Most certainly not. Do I dream only happy things? No. Sometimes, I dream the worst that can be, by choice. Just to make myself cry. When I am precariously balanced at the threshold of pain, then the ability to make myself cry is a big advantage.

People are not always mindful of other people. People are almost never mindful of me. Especially when I do not want them to be. I can fade away into the background without a whimper as if I am just another random pitch in the white noise of space. In such times, ignored by what is concrete, I dream about the abstract. I gaze at the space in front of me and reflect myself in the shards of my imagination.

Soon this illusion will break. Even real dreams or dreams that come true are illusions, and I always mourn the passing of the illusion. Much like dreams, mourning is not always sad.

Beneath the branches...

2008-08-23T04:09:00.000-07:00

I love standing under a huge tree trunk and looking up, seeing all the branches and the leaves frame the sky. It doesn't matter if the sky is grey, bright blue or romantically dark and starry..............but it always looks beautiful.

2008-08-21T19:57:00.000-07:00

The day outside matches my mood - dark and gloomy, it rains whole day, the kind of rain that depresses you, not a full hearty downpour, not a gentle drizzle, rain that came in unruly patches, taking you by surprise, leaving you drenched and helpless.

I watch from inside my room…

Made Up

2008-08-20T00:38:00.000-07:00

It was one of the most embarrassing moments of my life. I felt like I wasn't fit to be a woman anymore. Now how would anybody understand if I start a post like this? On second thoughts, should I really write this post and embarrass myself in public as well? Ok, I'll write it and then decide whether it stays in a locked folder on my comp or gets posted on Expressions.

This dates back to my college days. There was an annual function at my college, where they gave away awards to the `deserving students who excelled by leaps and bounds day after day'. The only leaping and bounding I knew is that I climbed up the two flight of stairs to my class in the second floor. So I was there at the annual day doing what I do best. A few of my colleagues had decided to put up a dance as part of the cultural events for the day, and I was part of it. It was the first `professional' dance show that I was part of. In the sense, we had a professional choreographer, jigu jigu costumes, a huge stage with all the flashy neon lights, smoke, nightclub effect etc, etc. The practice and rehearsals went on fine. In fact, everything went on fine, until we were asked to put on the costumes, wear MAKE-UP and get ready for the show.

Put on the costumes I did, but wear make-up? I stood rooted to the spot as the other dancers opened up numerous boxes filled with powders and lotions and creams of all colors and started painting their faces with full vigor. I sneaked a peak into my bag and all that I found was a tube of face-wash and Ponds face talc! That was the only make-up item I had ever used I my life but now I was so embarrassed to even let anybody see that I had it. By this time the others were done with what was the `foundation' and went on to `compaction'( or was it only compact? I really don't know.Watching them use the make-up brush with so much flair and elan just made me feel so inadequate.

I have lived 22 years of my life without knowing the difference between foundation and compact. Just as I stood there not knowing what to do, one of my friends (who had finished her foundation) came over and asked, ``Hey why haven't you started yet?'' And before I knew it, I had whispered back, ``I don't know how to use such make-up.''Hearing myself say that, I wished the ground would just open and swallow me up. Thankfully she didn't laugh at me or sneer. Instead she just bought over her kit and started making up my face. Foundation first. Compact on top of it. Blush and a hint of Rouge next. Two layers of shimmer to give a party look. By the time she had finished with the `basics' (and I thought I was looking like a gaudy mannequin already) as she called it, I at least knew what each of those things was called. Then she opened what looked like a water color painting set and asked me ``Ok, what shade?''Not knowing which part of the face that was supposed to be applied to, I stammered back,``What what shade?'' My luck, she thought I was too nervous about the performance that she said. ``Arey baba, we don't have much time. Select a shade of lipstick from this'' Oh, so lipstick it was.

And time for another embarrassing confession. Till then I had thought that lipsticks were only in two shades - red and pink. Here I found Maude, Jade, Cherry, Berry, Nude and what not??!! I tentatively pointed to a pinkish color and she looked at me horrified. ``THAT shade for THIS costume? You must be nuts. And girl, you better know that pink is out of vogue since last summer.'' There were a LOT of things I had to know. So I just shut up and let her paint my lips a dark brown color and use something called a lip liner to outline the lips. Next came lip gloss and lip shimmer as well. After this, out came another paint box of eye shade.

Confession number N: Every single person in that room knew how to put on Kajal and Mascara except me. Needless to say, my friend did the eye make-up for me as well.At the end of it all, I nervously looked into the mirror but I couldn't see myself there! I men, I could see a face but couldn't distinguish any features. It was a glittering white blob with patches of red, green, blue and of course brown (on the lips) here and there. Truly speaking, the effect wasn't bad. I might have even looked good but what was the point looking good when I didn't look like myself anymore. I'd like to hear ``Diana danced well'' rather than ``The girl who stood in the right side, yeah the one who looked pretty'' she danced well.''I even started getting panicky whether my mom would recognize me. By the time the show started I had wiped away half the make-up with tissue and licked away most of the vanilla flavored lipstick. That made my face a bit more visible. The time for performance arrived and we did a decent job despite a few audio glitches.

Walking outside the venue after the function, (face wiped clean of all make-up, of course) I saw one of my good friends run up to me. And I waited, eager for feedback on the show. The first thing that came out of her mouth was, ``Why the hell were you wearing that hideous brown color lipstick? Didn't you know Peach is the IN shade now??''

Arushi Imbroglio

2008-07-11T11:36:00.000-07:00

The CBI today claimed to have solved the Arushi murder case. Infact, it took them 56 days to arrive at the conclusion that Dr. Rajesh Talwar was not guilty of the double murders of Arushi and Hemraj. The CBI Director Vijay Shankar further clarified that nothing deceptive was found in both the narco analysis tests of Dr Rajesh and his wife Nupur Talwar.

But the ordeal that this couple had to pass through in these 56 days has put the Media, UP Police and We, the people to shame. Arushi was brutally killed on May 15 but she died a thousand deaths even after the incident. A lively, pretty girl, Arushi was to celebrate her 15th birthday on May 24. All she wanted from her parents was a grand bday party. She had in fact invited all her school friends to the bday bash. They came but to her funeral. Before her funeral pyre was cold, doubts were raised about her relations with Hemraj.

The Uttar Pradesh police said it was a crime of ‘passion’ or of ‘honour killing’. Hell broke when the DIG of the Meerut range announced that it was the father Dr Rajesh Talwar who had murdered his daughter because he found her in an unacceptable relationship with the servant Hemraj. The smug cop went on to claim that the daughter, a 14-year-old now dead, was as ‘characterless’ as her father and had developed intimate relationship with 45-year-old servant. The officer was soon suspended for this 'careless' statement. But the matter didn' t end here.

The mother continuously pleaded innocence on behalf of her husband on media channels but perhaps, there was none to trust her, not even us. Police investigations further confused the issue and the media blew up beyond proportions every rumour about the case. Even Ekta Kapoor found fodder for her super crap TV serials from Arushi murder case.

But with today's CBI revelations, questions will henceforth be raised against responsible journalism and effective policing. What is a matter of great concern than the functioning of the police is the response of the 24 hour news channels. One understands the competitive nature of their business but even then there have to be certain rules that guide them. Certainly, they do not have the right to circulate speculation as news and hard facts.

And for Arushi...May her soul rest in peace.

Images that speak a thousand words

2006-09-27T21:38:00.000-07:00

Hi people....

I found these pictures on the internet and thought of sharing them with u guys

strange but emotions can be captured in a single frame

A sea of emotions undettered by the huge waves

Everyday is Valentine's for the young couple

In the morning mist, the early riser braces up for the day ahead

The silent tears of a disturbed sky

An egret takes off in search of fish

A pair of legs in a fish pond

A Trip Down the Memory Lane.....

2006-09-15T18:15:00.000-07:00

Few years back, I had been to Shimla, Kullu, Manali, Leh and Ladak. Ever since I returned, Life has been busy and completely messed up.
Every time my dad comes back home, I request him to take us back to those silent valleys which speak a thousand words, which brings you so close to life.

I wish I can keep going back there time and time again and maybe one day find my own Utopia there... a wooden cabin on the spur of a mountain, with a naughty brook of fresh ice melt, leaping from stone to stone on its way to find a bigger stream and its journey to the sea.

I am still reveling in my memories of those enchanted places. The sense of peace I felt there, is hard to express in words. There are times when you say that this is as good as its gonna get. Every stone spoke volumes, each gust of wind brought a fresh smell and freshness on its wings, The lakes there had every imaginable shade of turquize and blues.. The skies shone with a clearness which you cannot experience in a city now a days.

The local Haryanvies, Lepchas and Bhutias derive a certain happiness living off the land with their Yaks and wild horses. They always had a smile to offer to you and it lit up faces and rosy cheeks, Somehow in the city we lack this simple joy of living...we are too busy in our own mundane existence to worry about LIVING LIFE for fun.... It was magical for the short time I was in that enviorn.
Since I have been back, I have a far away look in my eyes. In my mind I am still there. I am quiet and have nothing much to say to anyone *which is normal*, but there is a reluctance to speak about it as if sharing the experience will somehow rob some of the lusture off the visit for me. There is an emptiness that I feel which again is hard to explain...

There are very few places left in the world which are unsullied from the march of progress and the everyday rat race and travelling in these silent valleys, you come to just such a place, a bubble in time and space.

Life goes on there on its own pace, sure you find Coke and Pepsi there too..but still considering other parts of India, I am glad these places are relatively secluded from the rest of the country. I hope to return there soon...yes soon....

I am in You.....

2006-09-03T22:29:00.000-07:00

Last night I lay down to rest and as I did, I rested in you. I rested in your arms, rested in your sweetness, rested in your affections.
I was held and was carried into a peaceful sleep. Early today, I awakened unto you.
I am as though filled with you, as though your sweetness is the fluid in my veins, the inspiration of my soul.
As I begin my day, I dance with you and I sing just for you.
There is nothing more beautiful than you, nothing more profound than you and I.
You are the sun that has warmed me, has beckoned me to awaken, has set about to bring me to full bloom. I have begun to blossom in the brilliance of your light and in the warmth of your heat.
Everything that comes from me carries something of You.
One cannot bury her face in a bouquet of flowers and take its scent without burning in the reflection of the sun.
This could be you in me and me in you.
I am a flower alive with your reflection.
Today, this flower is wet with the morning dew as she awakens unto you.
Love.

A new look...

2006-08-27T20:16:00.000-07:00

Managed to get a new look for this blog. Been wanting to do this since a long time, but never found time to sit down and do so. Lately, a friend of mine said my blog has been a bit dull these days, true.
I really envy those bloggers who manage a few posts a day. I was browsing through all my blog roll friends and saw a few posts per day on a regular basis. I kept wondering as to how do they manage to do that. The availability of content is not my source of wonder, for there is enough to blog about in this world, but the effort and the energy to sustain that effort, that leaves me astonished.
I immediately decide that I will write a couple per day too, and then realise with equal urgency that if I continued with that, that might be all I will be doing!!
But nevertheless, blogging is what I enjoy doing the most. It is thrilling, for its central element is writing, composing, weaving, regaling in the taste of words and then sitting back to catch my breath long enough before I get back to romancing the words... Well, I am hooked. I had told myself at the outset of this week that I shall not post anything new for two weeks. Work was demanding too much of my time and I seemed to be neglecting a few other things. I could only cut back on blogging. I smiled at myself for I knew that my resolve was thinner than the late February ice on the lake. But don't we all look forward to that ice melting away?

Veiled beauties

2006-08-03T20:34:00.000-07:00

Hi People, Got this pic from a frnd Mukund....
The mail reads...What is he trying to capture?
True, what exactly is he trying to capture? Isnt this pic a clear depiction of the existing chauvinism in our society? They say " Our religion has it that women should hide their faces" (CRAP)....Hide her face from whom? Men? Why? Dont they have freedom to exist as they would like to?

Blocked!!

2006-07-18T20:26:00.000-07:00

One fine day, I wake up and sit before my computer only to find that my blog' not opening......I wonder whats the problem? I call up my server guy to ask if my computer was wrong but later my fellow bloggers informed that all the blogs across India have been blocked by the government following the 7/11 attcks.......Well, fantastic.
Till now, govt hasnt made any official arrests in relation to the blasts but ya they have acheived major success by blocking SIMI"s 'only' mode of communication - the blog sphere............ I seriously admire their heights of imagination. They call themselves to be democratic........I think the new definition for democracy is curbing freedom of speech.....And as my friend Rupha said, they have used key words like `terrorists' to decide if a blog is anti-Indian.....even if u use the word to describe one of ur friends........So, this is our SICKO government!!!

SEARCH

2006-06-28T23:11:00.000-07:00

I have thrown myself to the whirling dance of time
A Slave of my destiny, am caught in my senses’ narrow maze
Searching for thy journey in a sun of deathless light

I wait to see the endless future brimming beneath my lashes

Fanna…destroyed n lost

2006-06-12T23:26:00.000-07:00

Really? Undoubtedly romantic the name sounds, but you will hardly find any of it in the movie. To be precise, how many of us actually had high expectations from the movie after all that glaring media promos and good music? Am sure a lot of us. Despite being a Yashraj production, the movie was a big let down.

Recently, I made up my mind to watch the movie, as I had nothing better to do. After reading those excellent reviews (pun intended) that many papers brought out and watching some high funda movie reviewers go left, right and center at the movie, I wondered how movie directors like Kunal Kohli who actually do not have many good films in their kitty, still come up with such movie ideas.

First half…tolerable but funny! A bit too overdosed with excellent shayaris that rather manage to drive away your attention from few practical faults (Director’s insensibility). Let me now enlighten you guys by bringing to your notice some of these.
First, the treatment of Zooni, our very own blind Kajol. Her mother seems to be so desperate about the prospective groom for her blind daughter that she actually is overjoyed at hearing the news that her gal has at last found someone. She doesn’t even bother to find out who the guy was and what was his background. She readily agrees for a nikaah and that too over the phone. Poor father, Rishi Kapoor doesn’t even gets a chance to open his mouth.

Secondly, in this world of instant coffee, instant messaging, instant food and blah, even love turned instant. In a matter of 7 days, Zooni falls in love with Rehan, sings songs with him and at the end of 7 days sleeps with him even if he openly flirts with her friends. Isn’t that interesting? Am sure this can only happen in insensible movies like this one.

No wonder Kajol looks extremely beautiful and Aamir looks very handsome but talking about the chemistry between them, it just isn’t there in the movie. I bet Shahrukh would have done justice to the role if he were to play opposite Kajol.

The second half just drags on and on and on and on………it seems the director for a while had forgotten that the movie has to have an ending too. The movie turned out to be so boring towards the end that I actually think of getting up and leaving the hall. It’s just that you sit there knowing exactly what’s gonna happen next but you still sit there and watch your predictions come alive.

Lately there have been many movies made with disability as a topic. Considering this movie, bollywood should rather learn to treat the subject of physical disability more sensibly. The jokes that Kajol cracks at herself being blind someway went with the plot and were understood but the way Aamir made fun of her being blind was absolutely disgusting.

Even if the movie scores high in relation to music, screenplay, locations, yet they fail to help the movie. As the movie comes to a rather predictable depressing end, I thank my stars that it’s finally over.

It rained yesterday.

2006-06-02T22:49:00.000-07:00

I look out of the window to find that the sky has turned an ashen gray.

Ah! It is going to rain, I think. As I am in the shower practicing my best Lata staccato, I hear the sound of water pouring from the heavens. I wonder, ‘why the heavenly showers make a different sound than my bathroom one?’

As I get dressed and ready to leave for a friend’s house, the rain pours steady, making a quiet humming noise running through strands of air. The earthy smell of the rains, cleave through the strong walls of my home and fill my senses.

I check out the rain again. ‘Wonder if I was the earth and the rain was my boy friend, how would I feel when it fell on me? But why be affianced to someone ephemeral?

I look outside the wooden windows, How wet is my bike? Oh I hope the rain stops – my bike doesn’t start when touched by water. Some allergy I guess!

By the time I go out, the rain is no longer falling. Falling? Why does the rain fall? I mean why fall? Why not float down? Or just appear maybe? I take out the rag lying at the back of the seat to dry the bike and as I am looking around I see a man walking with an open umbrella. Surely it is not raining... does he not realise that... should I tell him? Maybe it is still raining wherever he is now.

The tar on the road is wet and the sound of blaring horns is trying to scare the wetness out of the air. What a spoilsport, trying to spoil the romantic environment! Why does the wet road look softer? Has the downpour quenched the thirst of the dry roads? How dry were the dry roads? My height of imagination goes haywire. I suddenly imagine myself to be alone on the road under the pouring sky and with my arms wide open, welcoming those soft drops of rain to wet me.

Fantasies…. cant help them!!

Red lights, green lights, bullying busses, the ominous police van behind me, unsteady auto-rickshaws and puddles of water bring me back to reality. The small child who begs at the traffic crossing, sporting a wide grin hops in front of my bike. She seems happy today. I stop at a shop and the great roads that we have here in Cuttack, I land myself in a puddle of dirty water as I put my legs down.

After a while, the roads have dried up. So soon!! Oh. No! I park the bike. The sun is out.

I see a streak of sunlight kissing wet muddy cheeks. Or maybe he is angry with her. He thinks she has been cheating? Why didn't she run away with the rain? Anyways that’s upto the sun and the rain to decide.

But I suddenly feel depressed seeing the rain disappear. However dirty the place Cuttack can be, but it always feels goods getting wet in the rain…. doesn’t it?

What a life!

2006-05-30T23:19:00.000-07:00

(Note : Another mindless post....cant help it..kindly bear with me......am yet to get any good ideas for a sensible post!!)

Spiders in the bathroom!

I am usually reasonably brave, except when confronted with needles, and creepy, crawly things and... You get the idea. I ran out and fetched the biggest, meanest jhadu (broom) I could lay my hands on.

I was all set to met out a thrashing blow when my brother S stopped me. His plan was to gently lift the spider on the broom, and let it out of the house. I suddenly felt barbaric. For a boy with his unkempt, uncouth and the-rest-of-the-world-can-go-to-hell look, he had right then very potently reminded me about the sanctity of all life.

Though I am quite sure I'll hardly feel the same way when I encounter another arachnid, it did convince me that I still have a lot to learn, from every person I meet. I still have hundreds of questions left in me. Perhaps, everybody I bump into brings the gift of a different answer. I also remembered that fear can make me do many things which I would ordinarily not do. A defense mechanism, I guess. Since I am still alive, it must be a good one.

One another note, I sometimes get this sudden urge for uncontrollable laughter when I know for sure I am going to get a really big scolding. It happens just when I am about to face that person. It does not happen always. And it is not that I am laughing at the person or mocking that person. It's just that somebody getting angry over me for whatever reason seems suddenly, to be the funniest thing in the world. What's worse is that if I am laughing when another person is scolding me, it does nothing to calm the rising tempers! I do my best to stifle the laugh. Honestly. But stifling laughter is another thing I must not do too often. No?

It's not you, silly!
Tee hee hee. What do you think you are smirking at? Hee hee! Nothing... hee.

Impudent child! Sorry... but... hee hupp gulp. Stop this behavior right this instant! Atrocious! Haa haa ha... your... haa ha

What! How dare you? Me, me? What about me?

Haa hmmmpph... haaa haa.. hoo hoo oooh my Hmmpph! He hee ... What?

Tell me...Your tail is on fire! What!!! Aiyeeeaaa...Haaa haaa haa.... h..Oh my! Ooooh my! Help! Wait a...Toodle ooo... tee hee

I don't have a tail!

Hi People

2006-05-17T00:06:00.000-07:00

Helllos People,
Am back again........Joined work yesterday..........Well, I should say, this office is far better than NIE Chennai and I had a different view of my boss, whom I thought was a bit stringent, serious.......blah...blah..... but wallah, he isnt!!!!! quite a chill guy and a pucca boss kind........ Well even though I miss the carefree life in Chennai, am trying to adjust to the lousy life in Orissa.......never realised that i will miss chennai....actually this is the view of the all the ACJians.....

Welll, back to blogging again but havent yet thought of any good idea.....so will need some time....till then u guys take care
hugs n kisses...
bye
Di

Signing out

2006-04-29T03:24:00.000-07:00

Hellos people,

WoW...that was my 50th post. Hmmm...guys, My life in ACJ is winding up and its time to pack things up and start a new journey in life. Though I am feeling low, I have a lot to do before I say good bye to Chennai.

Pack my belongings, collect my certificates and start looking for a job. All this will take me another 15 days.

After such a long hiatus, I will have to earn back a whole new crop of readers, I imagine!

So Bye People......C U Guys later..

Luv N Luck

Diana

2006-04-29T03:19:00.000-07:00

Manifestations of a mortal life

Shrouded in lovelorn nights,

Hearts set aflutter with desire,

As moths drawn to the burning lights,

Rekindled embers of a forgotten ire.

Glasses of scorned amour,

Show the stony soul of an angelic form,

Laughther effusing from the bewitched lure,

Mocking despondent passions bygone.

Black velvet skies part for golden hues,

Phantom dreams melt into earthen moulds,

Perhaps rejuvenated by a virginal muse,

Manifestations of a mortal life, behold

A Paper in the Wind

2006-04-25T03:29:00.000-07:00

Standing on the simmering tar,

Baking in the heat reflected of dreary concrete,

I looked up and saw,

A white paper page descending from the heavens.

It floated, rising and falling,

billowing in the wind,

I turned my head away,

away from the relentless gleam of the noon sun,

The paper fluttered, playing with the currents of air,

Flirting with the rising passions of the ardent draft.

Then a fierce gust rose,

Swatting the paper with all its might,

The paper merely bent, and mocked, and laughed,

Rolling away, always on top, always falling in delight.
The dusty waft gave in, defeated,

Ever so lightly, it touched the brick,

Caressing the mud crusted sidewalk,

And then lay stagnant.

When I bent and tried to touch the page,

It eloped with the newborn wind,

Leaving me with a fistful of heat,

Staring at the frolicking lovers' dare.

An unfinished Painting

2006-04-24T02:29:00.000-07:00

A blank.
An inviting expanse of untouched white. First splashes of a tender green giving birth to a new life.
A light blue of the first drizzle of the season nurturing it.
Miles and miles of golden sand, daring the sun to outshine it across a parched desert only to surrender at the feet of the solitary palm of an oasis.
Brown crusts of broken soil, thirsty, with mouths open wide which scream a deafening silence.
Wild grass caught in flames which dance to the tune of the gallivanting wind.
Blackened ash following a line of mad orange, cutting across buttered forests.
The black rising in clouds of smoke.
Crying black clouds.
Tears, salty, serenaded by thunder, waltzing with the lightning.
A spark etching on a copper plate.
Tattooed on skin.
A fine hatch of crimson lines texturing a brain.
Blue veins of life.
Nerves of steel.
Silver steel rafters mixing with the gray strength of brutish concrete.
Structures hewn by sheer power.
Metaled roads to lost lands.
A land of memories.
A never setting radiant sun.
Divine beauty and mortal pain.
Light of a rainbow touch.
The touch of a hand.
Skin on skin. Calm. Wilderness. Freedom. Red. The red of promise.
Lips holding a cherished kiss.
A smile of pink, and fluttering eyelashes.
A glance of violet, a scorn.
Deepening rounds of a haloed anguish.
Distances. Emptiness. Unfinished.

How can I prove anything ?

2006-04-22T04:10:00.000-07:00

A little child of three or four
With a freckled face and curly locks
Looked up at me with a toothy grin
She seemed like a brook tripping on the rocks

Barely standing, she asked of me "Are you sure the sky is blue ?"
"Of course! What a question!" I said
I will just now prove it to you

"Just look up and see", and I saw at twilight hour
The sky turning golden, red and pink all at once
"Which of these is blue ?," she asked
I stood there, mute, feeling like a dunce

She stared at me, with a innocent look
"Tell me no ... Is it that hue ?"
I saw the world, mirrored in her eyes"
You know it all already, how can I prove anything to you ?"

2006-04-21T04:41:00.000-07:00

Wood on string,
The air vibrates,
Soft twinkles lighting up an evening of velvet shine,
Fingers conjure beats,

A soft cadence teases,
slowly filling up a cup of crimson wine.
A brook trips and falls in glee free from shackles bound,
She shies away with an inviting glance,

A touch, a smell, a sight,
and all bow to the might of sound.

Intermingle like fire and smoke,
A lingering kiss,
A passionate bite,
Fingers dance on His lap divine,
Sparks of ecstasy born of sheer delight.

The winds dance to a frenzied quake,
You run your fingers down my spinetracing tales of yore,
Raising the wildbeast asleep inside, madness alive and wanting more.

Zenith of a crescen doing thrill,
One with Him a virgin soul,
Life scorched forever with a celestial touch, her and me one in a seamless whole.

A thoughtless worse ....

2006-04-20T01:18:00.000-07:00

As I stare at this blank expanse of white,
thinking about what next to write,
A thousand thoughts in my head, a haze,
taking shape in the mist,
a labyrinthine maze.

Did I just write a verse,
of complete nonsensical stuff,
even worse,
Hey, I think - this is it,
just let it flow,
and maybe after this very boring day,
I'll find that elusive glow.

That glimmer of light,
that ray of hope,
the strength, the will, the resolve of mind which helps me cope,
With the chaos of my existence,
with the conflict of my being,
of the sounds in my hearing,
of the colors in my seeing.

Where, oh where is that fractal of order and sense,
which will soothe my being, make light my dense,
Perhaps in this babel of words,
if a line I cast,
I'll find my sense of my world, at last.

2006-04-18T05:08:00.000-07:00

When the twinkling stars in the velvet sky put on their most mischievous smile,

and when the moon, full in all its pristine white aura stood witness to the magic in the breeze,

I saw you in my dreams.

When racing fingers typed mystic words formed solely to appease your majestic taste,

and when hesitant voices rode on waves of electric charm to resonate with my innermost desire,

I heard you in my life.

When the endless ocean tossed a tiny boat on golden sands,

and when houses of stone mixed with delicately spiced curries of hidden angst in an afternoon of subdued passion,

I held you in my arms.

Today, when the sound, the smell, the touch is mellowed down and fading away into my memory's cage,

when I see myself chopped in half,

helpless at the hands of misery I caused; today, on a day of blessed union,

I lose you forever.

Invisible boundaries

2006-04-15T21:42:00.000-07:00

A boy and a girl.

Pristine and precious.
That's all there is to the relationship.
Right?
In the midst of all the teasing and the giggles, buried somewhere between a snicker and a lazily pointed finger, peeping from a curtain of rumours and insinuations, a little doubt is born. Not a doubt that the relationship is anything other than what it is but just small questions, random thoughts that seem to appear and ask if what we are going to say, what we are going to do can in some way be (mis)construed as out of the ordinary, maybe leaving room for more talk, more assumptions and more conclusions - a touch of artificiality makes its appearance in the relationship and soon begins to mark boundaries within which we are expected to interact. Society now dictates what is appropriate and what is not in the relationship and somewhere along the line, the untainted magic of the bonding fades away.

OK, People, My joblessness and my load of assignments are having a really negetive impact on me.....U can easily make it out from my posts.....I really need a long weekend to write some sensible stuff already!

First Love

2006-04-15T21:33:00.000-07:00

First love and first crush - two emotions (sometimes one?) that one does not forget easily...it stays behind in a small recess in our minds, our hearts, unmindful of further events that try to push it into oblivion. That feeling- my pulse quickening, blood rushing to my cheeks despite my desperate efforts to push back the color rushing to my face - cannot be forgotten easily...ever. Everyone has gone through this same chaos of feelings sometime in their lives; feelings that are proudly disclosed if the same guy (girl) is with them still, feelings that are covertly hidden if they are with someone else.

Often first love (crush) tends to be unreasonable - feelings for someone who is just not right for you, feelings for someone who stands diametrically apart from you on everything - but first love is just that, just an irrational subset of emotions belonging to the larger, more inclusive set called Love. Its not something that one should dwell upon, ponder upon forever; its something that one should enjoy while it lasts and then recollect it much later in their lives, sometimes unexpectedly and rejoice in the feeling.

2006-04-14T22:27:00.000-07:00

She still waits for him,

her kohl clad eyes

scanning the horizon.

Hopes raised

and dashed a thousand times or more,

battling nothing.

She waits.

She waits for nothing.

My Friends

2006-04-13T06:51:00.000-07:00

Friends...they come and go, its when they have gone that you realize you wanted to spend more time with them; share, just a few more things with them; exchange, just a few more stories, thoughts...you get this inexplicable urge to just be together with them to share and understand the silence and the unspoken words...but then reality dawns and the cloud vanishes and things become clear, the tugging feeling in your heart, the lump in the throat reappear and you realize you cannot change the past...

Your friend has moved on and so should you...the mind insists, but the heart does not listen, there is always the faint hope lurking deep within that keeps saying that he (she) will come back to you...

But then, when the intensity of any such unfortunate happening lessens, it always reveals a silver lining beneath the dark, impregnable cloud of unhappiness...it strikes you like a bolt, albeit a pleasant one...revealing brightness, happiness - the sudden realization that the friends who stayed behind are precious enough to smile through your tears - a smile that teaches you a lesson, that teaches you that you have a lot to be merry about and to sing like a lark; a smile clarifying all doubts and apprehensions, a smile that teaches you that you are lucky to have someone you can turn to, no matter what happens, someone, for you...forever.

I made some really good freinds at ACJ and that too during the last days of my college. R , R and A. I really wonder where were they when I was wasting my time during my initial days in the college with some hypocrites. I wish I had got these three jewels earlier. I would have known them better and I would have had some of the best moments in my life. Now that ACJ is coming to an end, I get to go in a different direction and they go their own ways. I wonder if I could ever get to meet them again but I will surely preserve every moment that I spent with them.

Thanks u sweeties for everything......every moment of happiness that u guys gave me......these moments are all very special for me.....God bless u all!!!!

2006-04-12T20:12:00.001-07:00

Flash! and it remains in your memory forever. Ever had those moments that remain etched in your memory, as if it happened a few seconds ago? Just before falling asleep, did you find your semi-conscious mind drifting to something in the past?

Words uttered ages ago, smiles exchanged, battles fought, disconnected thoughts, images and then there is a flash, a crystal-clear image that cruises in front of your mind's eye - so clear that you can make out every freckle on the cheek, dark eyes twinkling mischieviously, lips pursed as if to chide you but a mouth that cannot hide its glee at what you are doing? An image zooms in your mind and then everything clears up and all you see is that face,that faded memory that makes you yearn for what has passed…

People have that effect on me, in the middle of my seemingly inconspicuous activities, they pop up in my head and wake me up…my teacher’s face when she smiled approvingly of my answer, my mom’s face when she found out that I was kidding about my grade and I had actually stood first in class, my dad’s expression when I tease him about his adolescent crushes…some memories that I cannot forget, that come back to revitalize me and remind me that the past may be past but it has made me what I am now…

I freeze in time for a few seconds and the past comes pouring through me, a series of events, interconnected, a chain that has led me to where I am in life now…

RESERVATION ROW

2006-04-10T20:17:00.001-07:00

The Economic Times on the 28th March carried this as its front cover article: QUOTA RAJ - Half of the IIT/IIM seats may be reserved.

I wish to express my strong opinion against this move. The IITs and IIMs have been paragons of excellence in the field of academics. They are revered as Temples Of Learning and pride in a reputation that has been acknowledged worldwide. What does the government intend to achieve by raising the reservation% for SC-ST in these institutions from 22.5% to 49.5%??

I wish to ask - Is reservation the only way for ensuring that the so-called minorities of the country will have a fair right to food, shelter and education? The HRD ministry is horribly misled into believing so. The teeming people of India require equal opportunities for growth. Under the garb of "providing education for one and all", this move only increases the divide between the masses. The scheduled castes/tribes must be helped by providing better opportunities in all spheres of living, but not necessarily at the cost of snatching it away from some. What is it - greater reservation OR greater opportunities; that heralds a better vision of a progressive India?

The SC/ST communities no doubt have the right to aspire and work towards a better standard of living and so does every Indian citizen. What are we attempting to do to these institutions by slicing the intelligentsia of India? The sacred scriptures maintain that Vidhya does not discriminate, so why should we? Yes, some of us may remember that even in the ancient days, the "shudras" were not allowed access to gurukuls, but if we have progressed by any extent, then we must realize that such discrimination is inhuman at its very core.Why then do we-a nation of progress-warrant such a move? The government must rather strive to provide better civic amenities to the backward communities, and help in their growth and upliftment, so that they may compete with their counterparts at an equal level.

Let every person prove their mettle in a fair-n-square environment. True knowledge needs no labels for its appreciation, just as its true for talent. Would not such a move actually fuel the increasing trend of brain drain in India? And I would sincerely feel that a seat belonging to these institutions, won by such means is a poor way to prove onself. The move only hints at the government trying to have greater say and interference in the working of these institutes. It may be brought to your recollection that recently, the HRD ministry opposed the move to open centres of these institutes in other countries (such as Singapore). Restricting the autonomy of these institutes will only cripple the great academic exposure they provide to the students.

The government must realize that its role is to provide for its people, and also to check whenever an individual or an institution attempts to do something that goes against the interest of the people. It was right in voicing concern against the fee hike of the institutes, then why does it now perpetrate such an act that goes against the national (and human) sentiment? The government should act as a stringent watch dog so as to check wrongful acts and policies, irrespective of who does it, but at the same time, should allow for growth and thus, allow only progressive policies to take shape.Let the institutes have their share of autonomy to decide what policy is best for them. Let them grow - for they are the ones who churn out this country's best intellectual capital. Let not the red tape seal the future of a united, bright and prosperous India. Let there be light!

ABORTION

2006-04-09T21:05:00.000-07:00

A soul that was denied existence

Month one

Mommy, I am only 8 inches long, but I have all my organs. I love the sound of your voice. Every time I hear it I wave my arms and legs. The sound of your heart beat is my favorite lullaby.
Month two
Mommy, today I learned how to suck my thumb. If you could see me, you could definitely tell that I am a baby. I'm not big enough to survive outside my home though. It is so nice and warm in here.
Month three
You know what Mommy, I'm a boy! I hope that makes you happy. I always want you to be happy. I don't like when you cry. You sound so sad. It makes me sad too, and I cry with you even though you can't hear me.
Month four
Mommy, my hair is starting to grow. It is very short and fine, but I will have a lot of it. I spend a lot of my time excercising. I can turn my head and curl my fingers and toes, and strech my arms and legs. I am becomming quite good at it too.
Month five
You went to the Doctor today. Mommy he lied to you. He said I'm not a baby. I am a baby Mommy, your baby. I think and feel. Mommy what's abortion?
Month six
I can hear the Doctor again. I don't like him. He seems mean and heartless. Something is intruding my home. The Doctor called it a needle. Mommy what is it? It burns! Please make him stop! I can't get away from it! Mommy! HELP me!

Help me mommy, they're tearing me apart

There goes my big dark eys

There goes my little heart

Month seven
Mommy, I am okay. I am in God's arms. He is holding me. He told me about abortion. Why didn't you want me Mommy? I love u mommy

Believe me I do

But the worst thing is I thought you loved me too

Every abortion is just...One more heart that was stopped. Two more eyes that will never see. Two more hands that will never touch. Two more legs that will never run. One more mouth that will never speak.

2006-04-08T00:58:00.000-07:00

She had a full life, trees, the wind under her wings, pools of water, flocks of friends.

she was a princess once.

She was captured one day, in a net, now she's here to stay never again to be free, to fly, to have companionship, or to explore.

She looks dully around her from all hope removed eyes.

TEARS

2006-04-08T00:34:00.000-07:00

A silent tear
A drop in the vast ocean
A glistening salty droplet cruising down the cheek
What does it signify?
Does it have to say anything?
As lonely as it can be
Leaving behind the unforgettable
As unfathomable as the depths of those enoumous oceans.........

SEARCH FOR TRUE LOVE

2006-04-04T02:58:00.000-07:00

Along the path of lonely life we stroll
Our life awaits the chance that it be whole

When we're alone in all our journeys there
We cast upon our traveling scene dispair

Though the seeds of love were clearly sewn
And love has not been found or fully known

We wait the chance that love will come our way
And look for it with every passing day

Though we have some romance in our living
Pangs we feel, for never really giving

To another who gives their heart willing
For a heart that's waiting for fulfilling

Along life's path we can all be partaking
Of a love in wait that's yet awakening

And if love is found on some fateful day

Life be fulfilled, when true love comes your way

JUSTICE FOR MANIPUR RAPE VICTIMS

2006-04-01T22:15:00.000-08:00

SIGN THE PETITION

A media report says that at least 25 rapes have been reported in recent months in Manipur wher separtist militants are resorting to rape as a weapon to terrorise villagers in far flung areas.
Incidents of rape have risen sharply in Hmarbiel, Tipaimukh sub-division of Churachandpur district, Manipur, where the valley-based militants are reigning the place in terror in the face of ongoing counter-insurgency military operations conducted by the Indian Army.

Every woman including the Manipuri women carry a sense of self esteem whose standards are set by the men and the very fear of rape shatters it.

The Manipuri term for rape, Ijat Manghanba is itself an indicator of the social outlook. It means 'the violation of one's esteem'. She is punished for the crime of which she herself is the victim. The same society allows the perpetrator of the crime to lead a normal life, without stigma, after serving the required term in jail, if at all he is caught.

In Manipur, the victims range from a 3 year old child to even a 70 year old woman. The types of rape include date rape, statutory rape and gang rape. In most of the cases, it is a single rapist and that too mostly persons known to the victim.

Most of the cases go unreported due to the fear of social ostracism.

The fear-ridden women are still far from the seeing the hands of law and order. Systematic rape was used to destabilise the populations and destroy community and family bonds. Rape was also used to humiliate and demoralise families and communities. In the face of all these atrocities, the Government of Manipur continues to be silent.

Meanwhile people across the world are appealed to sign a petition for immediate action towards well-being of these women.

Click here.....

Please sign the petition.

UNKNOWN

2006-03-31T04:23:00.000-08:00

Warmth of the day, fades my skin
I feel the air, gasping me tight
a moon of fire, fingers my skin
with roasting beams, burns the eye

The cold of the day, filling my lungs
in this endless time, now makes me blind
A moon of eyes, cuts into me
with fire light, a flaming eye

The mirroring blue, soft to the touch
suffocating me, like tattoted wings
the dusk unwinds, I feel it in my lungs
I feel alone, unknown

Am not a feminist

2006-03-29T20:02:00.000-08:00

But I would love people to read this quote:

"At the age of eleven or thereabouts women acquire a poise and an ability to handle difficult situations which a man, if he is lucky, manages to achieve somewhere in his later seventies."
- PG Wodehouse

Any takers for this one ???

2006-03-24T03:01:00.000-08:00

From the days of Chemistry labs and practicals till today…. my life has changed…changed a lot…. Sometimes I feel he is there…. sometimes I feel he’s left….

*****************

Do you want something to drink? A glass of water?" Just the right amount of concern in his voice, the right expression on his face, yet the right amounts of everything seem to come not naturally, but with a strained effort. I shake my head and forget to thank him anyway.He runs up the stairs two steps at a time, as if his new gained freedom - from me? - Has given his legs an additional vigour.
I sit for a long time staring at the television, wondering about us, how did we grow apart so soon? How can I smoothen the wrinkle that creases his brows?

Perhaps I cant anymore!! It’s too late now.

******************

The days pass by pleasantly enough and soon it is almost 2 years...I stand by the window and marvel once again at the colours I see - green, gold, rust, red, the colours of fall spread out in pristine glory. I don't hear him coming but he startles me by kissing me on the cheek from behind. I blush……………. I turn around to hug him with relief and stop when I see his face - strangely flushed, an excited look in his eyes - I am suddenly worried, what causes him to be transformed thus?

He tells me, "I am going to Delhi, getting in for M.D!"

I smile because he expects me to, a hundred questions surround me like the sudden flock of birds that appear out of nowhere in these alien skies, What will I do alone? Who will I look forward to when am alone?
He doesn't hear my thoughts, he continues, "Everyone is so excited about this!

I feel as if I am sinking, down, down, until I can sink no further.
He stops talking at my lack of enthusiasm and says, "Honey, I really wanted this. Our lives will be so easier now….”

Did I really want this?
So many dreams, one built on another, so fragile...I am scared they will dissolve if I dare to even sigh.

**********************

The day outside matches my mood - dark and gloomy, it rains whole day, the kind of rain that depresses you, not a full hearty downpour, not a gentle drizzle, rain that came in unruly patches, taking you by surprise, leaving you drenched and helpless. I watch from inside my room…

**********************

“Will you just stop and listen to me?" I am running, screaming, not at all relaxed. I talk in a rush; I tell him that I was afraid that I would lose him. I speak so fast I almost don't hear my own words. They jumble and fall twisted all around me, powerless and meaningless, words made more weak by huge tear drops that betray me, as if I am guilty, I cry for all my lonely days, for my insecurity, for him who no longer loves me, I cry for all my problems and all problems that were never my own but have become mine that moment......He remains silent through out and then speaks calmly, in measured tones.

Words are funny, they are so short-lived and yet you hear them as if they are permanently etched in your self, and the funny thing with words is also that you learn how to use them - to hurt, to delight, to pacify, to cut, to heal - the more familiar a person, the more you are privy to their inner thoughts, the more they become vulnerable, you twist and turn words in your mouth, choose the right ones to use - words, daggers and doves, today they prick my heart leaving behind scars...

************************

2006-03-21T05:49:00.000-08:00

IS CHENNAI CONSERVATIVE ??

Chennai citizens have always been considered as conservative, but of late reports in the media suggest it to be otherwise - in issues such as displaying of obscene posters, organising of obscene dance programmes in star-hotels, laying down a dress code for college students and remarks on pre-marital sex - all of these inviting a crackdown in the most stringent manner than ever before.
In the light of these issues, the city's so-called conservative outlook and image has taken a beating with moral policing gaining the upperhand and hue and cry arising from all quarters of society.
Looks like conservatism and liberalism have to be defined in clear terms so that people know where to draw a line, because being liberal-minded and conservative are far apart.
The dictionary defines being conservative as someone who accepts changes, say for instance in society, gradually while being liberal denotes someone who allows for freedom of thought and ideals.
To take an example out of the social context, actress Khushoo's views on pre-marital sex have been liberal but the conservative groups in society had taken strong exception to it and had wrest an apology from her for demeaning Tamil women in the eyes of the rest of the world.
How could one woman's personal observations mar the social fabric is something hard to understand. Another thing that these people who had gone hammer and tongs against the film personality only smacks of prudishness. For the simple reason, have not women in today's world stepped out of the confines of the home to speak their thoughts aloud and enjoy the freedom to do whatever they like, after having shattered every male bastion?
Similarly, the issue of dress code for college-goers only points out to the regressive policies that have been laid down merely to prevent unwanted acts and deeds that could encourage sexual harassment and eve-teasing in public. Does that mean that if a woman is fully-clothed, from head to toe, she does not invite roving eyes or ogling or worse still be groped in crowded public transport utilities?
The crackdown and laying down of rules in respect to such issues aforementioned reek of regressiveness and a prudish mentality that could well be avoided as long as it does not border on immoral activities.

I would suggest u all to read this article by Sobha Warrier. Its really funny. Read On.....

(Note: Absolutely no offence meant towards Chennai or any Chennaite)

BLANK NOISE PROJECT

2006-03-17T02:00:00.000-08:00

This is my contribution to the Blank Noise Project Blog-a-thon 2006.
This post is more of a ramble. However, as others break their silences, I can't help but break mine.

When I was twelve, somebody leaned over and said - don't attract attention to yourself. That's what I have been doing all my life. When I leave my home, I clutch my belongings, adjust my clothes and will myself to be invisible. I occupy the tiniest strip of space. I am constantly moving sidewards to let men walk by, because I know they will most definitely "accidentally brush".

From some unknown age, a verbal survival guide becomes your holy book. Don't take an auto when it's dark. Don't take a bus in the rush hour. Get into the crowded "Ladies" compartment even if the "General" compartment is half empty. When you sit in an auto, never sit close to the sides even if you want to feel the wind in your hair. Sit in the centre, so no passing hand can reach inside and grope. Don't smile at the autodriver. Don't smile at the shopkeeper.

By the time you're 18 you have permanent frown lines on your forehead. All your life, you have been biting your teeth and not smiling. In all public spaces.

I have never been able to sleep when on a train journey. Never been able to close my eyes for second when on a bus. Even on the most tiring of days. When in college - I carry a big bag and a folder. The folder would be clamped onto the chest, and the bag would be balanced on my back. My armour. I took to wearing salwar kameez in college for a while, wondering if it was about the clothes. It wasn't. It doesn't stop. But later on , I changed my wadrobe as wearing salwars didnt help much(so why should I stick to it?)

This doesn't end on the street. Street harassment followed you like a slithering reptile inside your home. They found out your phone numbers and made obscene calls.R(my best buddy) used to get a lot of those calls. She used to come home (invisible on the street) and cry. Her parents thought it was her doing. You don't tell anyone about all this. Because telling family members is admitting to your vulnerability. It could mean restrictions. Especially when you are a teenager.

One of my classmates had acid thrown on her face. Because she refused to respond to the catcalls of a few boys. When they went to the Police, they asked her about her clothes, her friends, her behaviour, her habits. Then, they blamed her.

Coming back from college, if the bus was too crowded, I used to try and walk the seven kilometer stretch if I had company. Even when I kept away from the crowded bus, and walked - some asshole would drive by, roll down his window, and ask persistently if I wanted a lift. No. I'll give you a lift. No. Please come. No. Come you bitch. No. Walk. Five minutes later - another car. No. No. No.

In Cuttack, for some days, I had to travel by the local busses when I had to go to bhubaneswar for college assignments. If the busses were crowded, I would take an auto. I would have a pretend-conversation on the phone. So the autodriver knew that somebody knew where I was. Sometimes when bus conductors, autodrivers and shopkeepers try to hand back change - they squeeze your hand.

We are surrounded by movies that encourage street harassment. Follow a girl enough times and she will fall in love with you. On the road, it's okay to sing vulgar songs about someone's waist, walk, eyes, bosom. Shame her into burning helplessness.

I don't want to be protected by a man. No man needs to feel responsible for me. I don't want a man to spew venom on my behalf. I don't want to be left alone because I am someone's daughter, sister, girl freind. I don't want to hide in "Ladies-Only" compartments. I want to look at a city's buildings and take photographs, without dodging a biker's hands. I don't want to be afraid to go into a Police Station. I want to be able to go for a walk without swallowing my fear by the minute.

I refuse to believe that all male bloggers are not involved in street harassment. I don't think most men realize that they have the male privilege. Street harassment takes on different forms - digital, cellular and otherwise. But it is the same in essence. They don't respect personal space in a public domain. The line between admiration and street harassment is not thin. I've been reading a lot of "I never knew this happened" testimonies penned by men, but I am curious about the other lot? Do they read this stuff? Are they going to dismiss this as feminist crap? I get an avalanche of vulgar anonymous comments sometimes - are they the same kind who harass on the streets?

What is unique to India is the apathy. The heartbreaking indifference. The SILENCE. Victims should not speak of being the victim. We should suffer in our silence. The "world" meanwhile, feigns ignorance. You process the blank noise in your head, and don't tell anyone. And hope that it will all go away. It doesn't.

Oh! What really gets my goat - is when somebody suggests that you learn Martial Arts to defend yourself. Right. So tomorrow if someone harasses me, and I get harassed, it's again my fault that I couldn't defend myself. Really?

A day in the life of a sex worker

2006-03-12T02:05:00.000-08:00

My Mother, The Gharwali, Her Maalak, His Wife

Sex workers. I was curious about these mysterious women who were socially unacceptable, yet evoking interest of the commoners for different reasons.

They were especially brought to the limelight after India was identified as one of the foremost countries where the incidences of AIDS were increasing and numerous contributions started pouring in with Bill Gate's contribution being the most highly publicised one. I realised that I had subconsciously started looking for information on them. I had caught glimpses of women on T V and magazines who were dressed garishly with makeup that made them look older than their actual ages peering out from dirty corridors in buildings. I read gory articles about teenage girls abducted against their will or sold by their poverty stricken parents who felt that they would be assured of a better life by working as domestic help in the future employers’ houses. However when they landed in Mumbai’s Falkland road and resisted the new profession, they were imprisoned without food and water, beaten badly, and then repeatedly raped. This account was more than enough to awaken the spirit in a dead person.

This was just one instance of how they were initiated into the trade. I was curious about what next. After they had accepted the profession and were swept into days and nights of working. Did their life become the cloistered world of survival among peers? Were they happy at any point later or did each day pass with misery? What about their health aspects, how educated were they about the life threatening disease that they were exposed to by the minute and whether they took charge of their life at any time or were they dependant on social workers and others to force them to take action.

My questions were answered when I got a chance to watch a play. Some events were amusing; heart rendering and others were downright serious.

The woman who expressed herself the best was Leena. She had a very likeable character and hailed from a district in Maharashtra in India. I imagined a shy, distressed and battered woman. Surprise surprise! She happened to be a very mature woman, with a great sense of humor and having a good set of values and discipline. She started off by playing an act from her regular everyday life..waiting for a customer in a dark, shady place. She attends to her customer, accepts a pair of gold earings (his gift for her). In a way she showed us a glimpse of her everyday life.

Leena was in love with a rickshaw-driver, who suddenly said her that he will be going off to Mumbai unless, of course if Leena helps him with a loan of Rs. 25,000. He promises to marry her after buying his own rickshaw. She believes him!! He takes the money and disappears for ever.

She waits for her lover, and she waits on her customer........

She has a daughter who is not at all ashamed of her mother being a 'dhandewali'.

According to her, whatever her mother had done was for her benifit. She has taken a promise to utilise all the facilities that has been provided her.

My Mother, The Gharwali....looks at 24 hours in the lives of the people who live in or pass through the galli(street) in which Leena lives.

The director also projected the lives of the children of the sex workers. One of moving scenes in the play was the demolition drive. Leena and the elderly women (in prostitution) participated in a rally along with other sex workers to protest against the demolition by the municipal authorities who described this part of Mumbai as a gandhi galli (a dirty area).

At the end, we were allowed to ask questions to these non-performers(the prostitutes). To one of the questions, Sandeep, the son of a prostitute and an actor in the play said, "When I was a kid, I was discriminated a lot in my school. I was not even allowed to use the school bathroom, I was asked to go outside the school to answer to nature's call. The head master made me sit separately considering the fact that I was the son of a sex worker. One day, I saw the same teacher in the galli where I live, I lost all my respect for that man."

In their daily lives, women in prostitution often do not have access to the full range of human rights. Their right to life, their right to be a woman.

Whenever they open their mouths, we (the 'civilised' society) doesn't hear them. They never get the space to speak their own stories. we keep insisting that they're bad women, immoral, loose women who make easy money by selling their bodies. After seeing the play, I would say, they are not!!. If we call them to be obsene and vulgar, then why do we watch the cheap hindi movie songs with the heroine in a wet saree and dancing around the trees? Isn't this obsene? But we watch them and the actors in these movies go ahead and get awards for this.

At the end, some of these women asked us to treat them like normal women. I felt that we should start accepting people as they are. They are no different in their dreams, emotional quotient, relationships, fears etc compared to a normal woman. Also the world can be complete and total when it included people who need not have led normal experiences. Our changed attitude to this section of society can mark a beginning to realisation and making important changes in the minutest way possible.

Telling their own stories may not have been a very easy process for them. As Divya, the director said, "My Mother, The Gharwali..is born out of slow journey of struggle, faith and discovery."

Yet they have come out to show us their lives. Shouldn't we shed our hypocrite attitudes and give them their own space in this society?

India's Old Age Crisis

2006-03-10T02:38:00.000-08:00

Who cares for the aged?

India has a tradition of revering its aged. This sentence should actually be changed into the past tense, considering that the glorious custom is no longer in practice in a large number of households.

Today while going throught the Telegraph website, I came across a story about this woman, Mira Moitra. 73 yr old Mira, a spinster has been abandoned by her own brothers and now she stays at the Birati Railway Station, Calcutta. (Read On....)

Mira is not the only case. We must have read numerous news reports regarding the aged being abandoned by their children.

Shunned by those whom they breastfed, whose midnight tantrums they endured, whose mess they cleaned without ever covering the nose with eau de cologne-swabbed towel, whom they perched on their shoulders and with whom they played and sang, and whose every whim was more sacrosanct than the Ten Commandments, the ignored aged have no choice now but to exist in the cages of old age homes. The decision of their children or kin to dump them in an old age home or just abandon them is replayed again and again in their head, like a squealing track on a damaged disc.

Things may not be same everywhere but even lesser neglect can be excruciating for the people who are counting their days.

With nearly seven per cent of the population of over 90 crores shuffling across the line that defines the elderly (over 65 years old), India will have over 6.3 crore people by the year 2010. Our society is not prepared to handle the tide - a group that will burgeon in future.

The respect for the parents cannot be taught. Nor can it be forcefully enforced by the government, given the extreme sensitivity of the matter. Under such circumstances, the only alternative is to have in place an adequate safety net for those who are unfortunate enough to be abandoned or neglected by their families when they need them the most.

The Blunderbuss Trail

2006-03-09T00:42:00.000-08:00

There was a new turn to the Jessica Lall case today. The Delhi police today announced a fresh probe against those who would have tampered the evidences in the case. But this would guarantee justice to the late model is something that only time will tell.The number of twists and turns the case is taking, really makes me doubtful about the credibility of our system. But then there are many angles to this too.Why is Jessica's case getting so much of media attention in today's times?We talk about the failure of the system when something happens. Our media latches on to this big something. Even if many of us complain about the system, it cannot be denied that most of us thrive on this 'system'. If you ask 100 per cent of people will complain about corruption and bribes. But the reality is completely different.
A very significant percentage of people take bribe and most of the goodies in life are acquired through bribes. Any amount of string operations and our writing blogs will not eliminate these things. It will increase progressively because most pay bribes for their benefit and claim that we have to pay under compulsion. Hence people who start living on the ill gotten money pollute the system.
Jessica's case has received the media attention because she belonged to the high profile society and the story could be sold. How many carried the story because they believed in the "Cause"? It was not the cause, it was love for TRP all channels jumped into it. If they had any love for Jessica,why did Media not track the case and raise a red flag when things were going sour?
I wouldn't blame the media alone. Nor the police or the lawyers involved in this case. It's about us.. we people. We Indians!! Most corrupt in the world. As per the latest News Week report 23% of the India's law makers have criminal charges againes them. Ranging from rapes, murders, robbery ,extortion. Our nation only breeds corruption.
Jessica case is the best example of this. Manu Sharma's dad won with record votes not too long ago. It's the people that's voted for him. Not judges or police. If at all Manu went to jail, Vinod will win with even bigger margin. Indians are like cows. People needs leader, Cows need cowherd. That's why you cows vote for these thugs cowherds.
This is India, a democracy (largest) ,an upcoming superpower, but it is happening again and again. Celebrities who mow down people under their cars and SUVs roam free by paying a couple of thousands to the court and people. Criminals shoot down ladies and rape kids and our lawmakers and politicians continue to manipulate the whole population as before. I am sure this is not the last case, there are many cases and many more to go.
We as a nation will learn? I doubt.

Under the branches of a tree...........

2006-03-09T00:30:00.000-08:00

For the past few months now, i have been doing a lot of walking and have reached to a couple of conclusions....

Sometimes when i stand near a traffic in Chennai, or if a bus or a bike is passing near by, i dont trust myself to stay where i am. Everytime i get a feeling that at any moment, i will find myself infront of a speeding vehicle and the very next moment i will be gone.

That is why, my favorite place when i wait for 21 bus is under a tree. I love standing under a huge tree trunk and looking up, seeing all the branches and the leaves frame the sky. It doesn't matter if the sky is grey, bright blue or romantically dark and starry..............but it always looks beautiful.

I have concluded something. When i die, i would like someone to dig a hole wherein my ashes would go.

Then i would gradually become a tree and strech my arms towards the sky and enjoy the beauty of this world.

Last Night...........

2006-03-09T00:24:00.000-08:00

My hostel is a pretty interesting as well as a depressing place to live in. Most of the time, i end up thinking something for time pass. Last night too, i kept thinking something. I was thinking about how there are two parts of people!

One is more about how you relate to others and the other is how you relate with yourself, if that makes any sense. If these two people could meet and interact well...then that means that they belong to each other and will end up spending their lives together without feeling anything significant of their life partner.

However if you meet someone whose understanding of life compliments and balances out yours, then that is more significant than merely interacting well. If there is this deeper connection, then i think life holds a lot more meaning.

I still cant make out why i thought all this but i enjoyed thinking whatever i thought.

2006-03-09T00:12:00.000-08:00

Thats me!! :)

THE PRINT JOURNALISTS

2006-03-08T23:53:00.000-08:00

This is the most intellectual and hard working stream of ACJ. The Print Stream!!! Look at us people!! Dont we look tired and extreemely hard working?? :)

THE ACJ CROWD

2006-03-08T23:46:00.000-08:00

This is the ACJ batch 2005-2006. What a crowd!!
This is a striking example of girls out numbering boys. This batch has 80 per cent of girls and 20 per cent of boys.

Gun tour 05 - Deprivation Trip

2006-03-08T23:15:00.000-08:00

This is perhaps one of the most memorable moments in my life. My deprivation trip. This is our team. We have a great photographer amongst us who took this picture. And thats Vikram Subhedar - the one kneeling down in white shirt.

PHCs in Palnadu Region of Andhra Pradesh

2006-03-08T22:59:00.000-08:00

This post is a photo feature of the condition of the Primary Health Centers (PHCs) in the Palnadu region in Andhra Pradesh. During my deprivation trip, whenever i went to any of the PHCs in this area, i just found a caretaker or an attendant. When asked about the doctors, some replied that the doctor's gone out for some reason and some had no answers.

This is a PHC in Karempudi village in the Palnadu region. When I along with two of my freinds, Ashish and Aparna went there, we didnt find the doctor. There was just an attendant in sight. When asked he replied that the doctor was out for lunch. We waited and kept waiting. Another person appears in the scene and tells us that the doctor has factured his hand and wont be coming to the PHC for somedays now. My freind, Aparna couldnt stop laughing. Neither could I and Ashish. We then asked them about the other doctor. The answer was " The post has been lying vacant for 1 year now."
In such situations one really wonders about the condition the people staying there. When someone falls sick, where does he go?
At the end when i clicked some pictures of the PHC, the attendant came running towards me and said that I wasnt allowed to take snaps. Why was he scared? And what was he trying to hide?
As the pictures show, the beds and the equipments were wrapped in polythenes. It appeared that they havent been used for ages.
PHOTO: Diana Sahu

This is supposed to be the surgery room of a PHC in Durgi. If closely seen, one can see a layer of dust on the equipments and the bed. PHOTO: Diana Sahu

This is the condition of beds in the same PHC at Durgi. PHOTO: Diana Sahu

This is outside the same PHC where in a person who had consumed poisonous liquor was denied treatment by the doctor. When asked about this, the doctor replied that there was no provision in that PHC to treat this dying man. The villagers had to then take the man to a private hospital in another mandal. What surprised me the most was the villagers saying that they do not rely on the PHC when it comes to treatment as there are no doctors or proper facilities. And why are the doctors not there?? Because of the fear of naxalites!!! Durgi in the Palnadu region is considered as one of the hot belts of naxalite activities. PHOTO: Diana Sahu

Creator

2006-03-08T21:10:00.000-08:00

Imagine a light and a bulb.

How irritating it must be to be light in a bulb. It is like having an immense potential and being restricted by the round barrier imposed by other forms of life and by the whims of contiguos intentions.

How frustrating must be to be the verb to be, bear two different meanings and still be mistaken from the verb to stay or to become by many who do not really know what to be.

How irrelevant must be to be like be me and not know what me mostly might mean meanwhile miracles may misteriously move massive mountains 'misperceivedly'.

How painful it must be to be the creator of all things, of all human beings and not being recognised as such by their own creation.

How beautiful it is to know that through the light's perseverance and servant nature, through the verb to be's patience and humility, through the creator's immense love, 'misterious' miracles may still be worked by the power of not being me.

Fair n Lovely Ideal

2006-03-08T20:59:00.000-08:00

Creams for a bright future

Two attractive young women are sitting in a bedroom having an intimate conversation. The lighter-skinned woman has a boyfriend and, consequently, is happy. The darker-skinned woman, lacking a boyfriend, is not. Her friend's advice? Use a bar of soap to wash away the dark skin that's keeping men from flocking.

Hindustan Lever Limited, one of India's largest manufacturing and marketing conglomerates, discontinued two of its television advertisements for Fair and Lovely Fairness Cold Cream, after a year-long campaign led by the All India Democratic Women's Association. Increasing public criticism may be initiating a change in cultural attitudes towards skin whitening in India, a country where the fairness industry accounts for 60 percent of skincare sales, bringing in $140 million a year.

In a memo to India's National Human Rights Commission, Brinda Karat, general secretary of the women's association, calls one of the ads "discriminatory on the basis of the colour of skin," and "an affront to a woman's dignity," because it shows fairer women having greater job success based on their sexuality.

Fair and lovely, is marketed in over 38 countries. Its frequently aired ads typically show a depressed woman with few prospects gaining a brighter future by attaining a boyfriend or job after becoming markedly fairer (emphasized by several silhouettes of her face lined up dark to light). On its Web site the company calls its product, "the miracle worker," which is "proven to deliver one to three shades of change.

"One of the ads targeted by the women's association shows a woman, whose father had lamented not having a son to support the family, landing a well-paying job as an airline attendant after using the product.

If there is evidence that public opinion has changed, it is not to be found in the Indian matrimonial ads, with their "grooms" and "brides wanted" sections that families use to arrange suitable alliances. These ads, hundreds of which appear in India's daily newspapers, reflect the country's remarkable diversity in their attempts to solicit individuals with the appropriate religion, caste, regional ancestry, professional and educational qualifications, and frequently, skin colour. Even in the growing numbers of ads that announce "caste no bar," the adjective "fair" still regularly precedes professional qualifications. A typical example shows that having a medical or graduate business degree is only part of the package: "Wanted really b'ful fair medico for h'some smart Doctor.

"The groom may be thousand times darker than the girl but he wants a fair n beautiful girl for himself. (Horrid creatures!!!)But this is how society has been throughout the ages. A groom always has to come to a bride’s house to see her. But it has never been the other way round.

No man talking of women empowerment has ever thought that such kind of ‘cultural practices’ are so disgusting and demeaning for a woman.And somewhere, women are also responsible for this. Until and unless, we change our mindsets, many more fair n lovely ads with disgusting storylines will come up showing how helpless can a woman be without a fair skin or a man.

CREATIVE OR DESTRUCTIVE??

2006-03-08T20:48:00.000-08:00

Strictly speaking, a man can neither be creative nor be destructive. But relatively speaking, a man can be both creative and destructive. Take for example a drop of water. Can you create a drop of water? NO. Can you destroy it altogether? NO. All we can do is to change it from one form of matter or energy to another form of matter or energy. Men are only combiners or dis-combiners. They are not creators or destroyers. They can't be creators or destroyers.

Caught in the crossfire

2006-03-08T20:35:00.000-08:00

Left in the lurch: (From Left) Musali Bai with her grand-daughters and her daughter-in-law, Anjaya.
Photo : DIANA SAHU

Her aspirations are as small as her hut. Seventy-year-old Musali Bai lost her only son Bhimudu Nayak in a case of mistaken identity killing. Tears roll down her eyes as she describes the death of her only son. Bhimudu was returning home after submitting a referendum for bore-wells in Bodipallem tanda (hamlet) when he was picked up in a “combing” operation on suspicion of being a Naxalite. The police took him to Vinukonda and tortured him. Four days later, the news of his death reached the village. Musali Bai’s husband died three years ago.

Now, she has to bear the burden of providing for her daughter-in-law and grand children. Her daughter-in-law and she earn about Rs. 60 a day by selling twigs.Bhimudu’s wife, Anjaya initially refused to confront the reality as she was not shown his dead body. Bhimudu’s family did not receive the dead body as the police officials cremated it without informing the family. The police claimed that he was a Naxalite informer or a Naxalite himself. Along with Bhimudu, two others were also killed in the same manner by the police. They later termed the killings as ‘encounter deaths’. Musali Bai did not enquire about the death of her son. She said “If the relatives inquire into the cause of the death, they too are often threatened with dire consequences.”

The tribals in the Naxalite-dominated tanda in Bollapalli live in constant fear. Here, the poorest of the poor - the tribals live amidst extreme violence and abject poverty. They run the risk of losing their lives if they do not allow the Naxalites into the village or provide shelter. The Naxalites may label them as ‘police informers’ and make them target of their attacks. The police harrass the tribals on the suspicion that they allow naxalites into the village. The sound of gun-fire at some place or the other in the tanda is common now.Villagers say there were instances when the police have attempted to force the families to admit that those killed were involved with the Naxalites. The police routinely threatens to kill or torture them if they do not comply. Many are so scared that they refuse to speak of the police atrocities. To tackle the Naxalites, the Andhra Pradesh Government imposed Disturbed Areas Act which provides for arbitrary arrests and detention.

Extrajudicial executions have been part of anti-Naxalite operations. The police raid the houses of tribals whom they accuse of providing shelter to Naxalites in the past. V.C.Sajjanar, Supritendent of Police, Guntur, when asked about fake encounters and killing of three innocent people of the tanda denied any such happening.“In my information, no fake encounters have yet happened in this area.” he said. He later added that he would look into the matter.No action has been taken against most policemen responsible for these deaths.

There is no doubt that the police manages to silence those who raise voice against their atrocities. The tribals living there are raising their voice now. The cases that have surfaced represent only the tip of the iceberg.

“ We have been cursed..."

2006-03-08T20:31:00.000-08:00

The trade of cheap liquor in Karempudi has made the lives of women here more miserable.
“We seem to be cursed. We were neither happy when our husbands were alive, nor are we happy now,” says Ambalamma.Ambalamma was 18 when she married Venka. She realised on the very first day of her marriage that her husband was an alcoholic. Unable to tolerate his harassment, she walked out on him after a while. But, Ambalamma’s parents were adamant that that she lives with her husband, however abusive he was. So she had to go back to him but Venka was dead before their first wedding anniversary. She is one of the nine widows in the Vinukonda area of Guntur district, living in pigeonhole-like houses. These women have been running from pillar to post to get their widow’s pension from the government. However, as the men never had any legal documents attesting to their birth, these women are suffering now.

The reason for their death is ‘country liquor’ or illicit liquor filled with chemicals. This problem is not limited to Vinukonda alone. It has spread to nearly all the 22 villages in the. Poisonous liquor is sold through ‘belt’ shops which are set up by wine shop owners to recover the huge amount of money which they spend for the license to operate the wine shops. The men here are so addicted to alcohol that they seem to consume it instead of tea and coffee. Hundreds of labourers have become victims to the poisonous liquor. But unfortunately most of these deaths go unreported. Shantamma’s story is similar to Ambalamma. She was married when she was 14 years old. Now, 11 years after marriage, she has eight children. At the age of 25, Shantamma bears the burden of a large family as her husband too died of drinking the same poisonous liquor. She works in a flour mill and earns about Rs.800 a month, besides working as a maid in many houses. With this meager earning, she has to support 12 children in her family, eight of her own and four of her brother-in-law’s. “I learnt from someone that I am eligible for a pension as my husband is dead. Ever since then, I have been running from one office to another but in vain,” she laments.

There have even been instances when family members did not even have money to perform the last rites of victims of illicit liquor.While the authorities and the people are aware that liquor is the main cause for their worries, they are not in a position to do anything about it. The police reports say that around nine deaths have occurred in the last one and half years due to poisonous liquor but village women say that actual figures are much higher. The local women say that the police hold fake raids just to please the higher authorities. They added that even if the culprits are charged under the law, they easily get out by bribing the police. Women also say that their husbands spend most of their meager earnings at these belt shops which bring in more than 10 per cent profit for the wine shop owners. Kadambari says that her husband earns around Rs 100 a day and spends more than half of it on liquor. The women of the villages are facing many difficulties due to this.

Some of the women who raised a voice against the issue faced severe hostilities and were threatened with dire consequences by the sellers. They said, illicit liquor is being sold openly in the market but officials refuse to take any action. This only proves that the officials were being bribed by the sellers. And even if the raids were conducted, the sellers were made aware of it. Even though the State government has prohibited the sale of illicit liquor, in reality, the government has ignored the request of these women to abolish illicit liquor.

Devaiya.R, Excise-Inspector, Vinukonda, said: “The government wants more income; there is tremendous pressure on us from the government. Although we feel sad for those who suffer after consuming the liquor manufactured here, you should remember that we are also helpless,” he said. Women here have for long been suffering because of cheap liquor but now the indifferent attitude of the authorities is making their lives more miserable.

Previous Post Continues........

2006-03-08T19:13:00.000-08:00

Hi frnds, this was the last set of photographs of Chennai during the last year floods. Some of these pictures were forwarded by a frnd of mine and some were clicked by me.

This was Chennai during the 2005 floods

2006-03-08T18:56:00.000-08:00

This is the continuation of the previous post........

This was Chennai during the 2005 floods

2006-03-08T06:17:00.000-08:00

Continues..............

A Love Letter

2006-03-08T06:03:00.000-08:00

Hi People...

check this out.....

your stress buster........

A collegian was deeply in love with a foreign girl, whom he wanted tomarry, but he did not have the courage to talk to her in person. Sohe decided to go home and with the aid of a dictionary, wrote aletter of proposal to her.
THIS IS WHAT HE WROTE ......My DarlingMost worthy of your estimation, after a long consideration and muchmeditation, I have a strong inclination to become your relation.
As to my educational qualification, it is no exaggeration or fabrication,that I have passed my matriculation, no doubt without any hesitation andvery little concentrated preparation. What you say to the solemnizationof our marriage celebration according to the population of the presentgeneration.
On your approbation of this application, I shall make preparation toimprove my situation, and if such obligation is worthy of considerationand commiseration, it will be an augmentation of the joy and exultationof our joint dissimulation.Thanking you in anticipation and with devotion.I remain,A victim of your fascination
THE GIRL REPLIES...........
Dear Mr. Victim of my fascination,
Congratulations for your lengthy narration, of course, full of affection,aimed at an affliction for a combination, which on examination, I find ita fine presentation of your co-operation, but your inclination to becomemy relation should embrace more qualification so that you may reach highposition.You have passed the matriculation examination with little concentrationand preparartion.

What about my graduation after much concentration andbotheration? So improve your situation in education and make an applicationby acquisition of post graduation, the minimum qualification for theconsideration of our marriage celebration. After your education, attendthe convocation and before taking your photo for circulation, undergobeautification.Further, strict observation of the following conditions is the regulationfor determination of our relation:
1. Consultation with my parents before approaching for any connection.
2. Communication of your confirmation that you are not a victim of "anyother" fascination, and
3. Procreation must not be your recreation.In anticipation of solid action of continuation of proper conversation.
Unaffected by your affection

The 90/10 Princple

2006-03-08T05:59:00.000-08:00

The 90/10 Principle Author : Stephen Covey ( Management Guru)Have you read this before?

Discover the 90/10 Principle. It will change your life (at least the way you react to situations). What is this principle? 10% of life is made up of what happens to you. 90% of life is decided by how you react. What does this mean? We really have no control over 10% of what happens to us. We cannot stop the car from breaking down. The plane will be late arriving, which throws our whole schedule off. A driver may cut us off in traffic. We have no control over this 10%. The other 90% is different. You determine the other 90%.

How? By your reaction. You cannot control a red light., but you can control your reaction. Don't let people fool you; YOU can control how you react. Let's use an example. You are eating breakfast with your family. Your daughter knocks over a cup of coffee onto your business shirt. You have no control over what just what happened. What happens when the next will be determined by how you react.You curse. You harshly scold your daughter for knocking the cup over. She breaks down in tears. After scolding her, you turn to your spouse and criticize her for placing the cup too close to the edge of the table. A short verbal battle follows. You storm upstairs and change your shirt. Back downstairs, you find your daughter has been too busy crying to finish breakfast and get ready for school. She misses the bus. Your spouse must leave immediately for work. You rush to the car and drive your daughter to school. Because you are late, you drive 40 miles an hour in a 30 mph speed limit. After a 15-minute delay and throwing $60 traffic fine away, you arrive at school. Your daughter runs into the building without saying goodbye. After arriving at the office 20 minutes late, you find you forgot your briefcase. Your day has started terrible. As it continues, it seems to get worse and worse.

You look forward to coming home, When you arrive home, you find small wedge in your relationship with your spouse and daughter. Why? Because of how you reacted in the morning. Why did you have a bad day? A) Did the coffee cause it? B) Did your daughter cause it? C) Did the policeman cause it? D) Did you cause it? The answer is " D". You had no control over what happened with the coffee. How you reacted in those 5 seconds is what caused your bad day. Here is what could have and should have happened. Coffee splashes over you. Your daughter is about to cry. You gently say, "It's ok honey, you just need, to be more careful next time". Grabbing a towel you rush upstairs. After grabbing a new shirt and your briefcase, you come back down in time to look through the window and see your child getting on the bus. She turns and waves. You arrive 5 minutes early and cheerfully greet the staff. Your boss comments on how good the day you are having. Notice the difference? Two different scenarios. Both started the same. Both ended different. Why? Because of how you REACTED. You really do not have any control over 10% of what happens. The other 90% was determined by your reaction. Here are some ways to apply the 90/10 principle. If someone says something negative about you, don't be a sponge. Let the attack roll off like water on glass. You don't have to let the negative comment affect you! React properly and it will not ruin your day.

A wrong reaction could result in losing a friend, being fired, getting stressed out etc. How do you react if someone cuts you off in traffic? Do you lose your temper? Pound on the steering wheel? A friend of mine had the steering wheel fall off) Do you curse? Does your blood pressure skyrocket? Do you try and bump them? WHO CARES if you arrive ten seconds later at work? Why let the cars ruin your drive? Remember the 90/10 principle, and do not worry about it. You are told you lost your job. Why lose sleep and get irritated? It will work out. Use your worrying energy and time into finding another job.The plane is late; it is going to mangle your schedule for the day. Why take out your frustration on the flight attendant? She has no control over what is going on. Use your time to study, get to know the other passenger. Why get stressed out? It will just make things worse. Now you know the 90-10 principle. Apply it and you will be amazed at the results. You will lose nothing if you try it. The 90-10 principle is incredible. Very few know and apply this principle. The result? Millions of people are suffering from undeserved stress, trials, problems and heartache. We all must understand and apply the 90/10 principle. It CAN change your life!!!

I loved this piece by Stepehen Covey. So i thought i would blog it.

Chennai slums during rains

2006-03-08T05:54:00.000-08:00

A Slum near the Marina beach Photo by: Diana Sahu

Today urbanization is a global phenomenon. The consequences of this are far- reaching. Increase of urbanization has been directly affecting environment and the people. As the city expands, a large proportion of the poor population ends up residing in slums in inhuman conditions. They live a very poor lifestyle with numerous health hazards. In many areas in Chennai, basic services like drinking water, proper sanitation, asphalted roads, footpath, streetlight, and underground drainage facilities are not available to them in normal conditions. Their plight still worsens during the rainy season.The inhabitants of these slums are those shunned by the society.

The residents of these slums include coolies, rickshaws drivers, dalit labourers, scavengers, rag pickers, sweepers and road cleaners. They lead a life of absolute filth, disease and ignorance. Most of them live in tiny shacks. They suffer from poor drainage and terrible sanitation, with open sewers and garbage contaminating the local environment, causing a high incidence of water-borne diseases. “We live in thatched roof houses, which are situated beside the drainage. During the rains, the drainage overflowed and dirty water stagnates everywhere, causing the spread of diseases.” Kokila, a slum dweller in Besant Nagar says.As it is they face extreme inadequacy of water. During the rains, the life giving water turns into a killer. Many diseases like diarrhea, poliomyelitis, hepatitis, amoebiasis, roundworm, whipworm, threadworm, typhoid are mainly the water borne diseases that these people get during rainy season. Though there are various provisions for treatment of the diseases everywhere, some poor households do not even approach health care systems immediately due to lack of time, as this amounts to loss of work for one day. Besides this, the slum dwellers in low lying areas face the problem of flooded houses during the season. Even an average amount of rainfall inundates several houses, causing damage to property.
There is constant water logging of slum sites during the rainy season.Clogged drains create stagnant water for insect breeding and floods during rainy seasons. The situation near river Cooum is far worse. There are as many as 3,500 unauthorised hutments situated on the bank of river Cooum. These directly dump garbage, excreta and sullage into the Cooum. Several public latrines have been constructed along the course of the river. They directly let off fecal material and urine into the river. Several hotels in the city are discharging sewage into Cooum at various points. Therefore, far from being an asset to the city, the Cooum has turned into a black spot mainly due to the human activities. There is no evidence that this river water is used for human consumption. Several buffaloes in the river Cooum are immersed head deep. It is quite likely that certain amount of Cooum water enters the gastro-intestinal tracts of the animals by direct and indirect methods. Cattle and pigs are washed in this water. In these situations, the water of the river during the rains sometimes pollutes the entire slum population staying near the river.
The situation around the river in normal weather is far more tolerable but during rains, it becomes a breeding ground for different kinds of diseases. The affected are generally the poor who toil hard everyday to ensure one or two meal a day. These people either go for treatment to government hospitals where they don’t get appropriate facilities or they prefer going to local quacks that causes further damage to their bodies. Behind the Mylapore railway station there are slums close by a canal.Few days back, the municipal authorities excavated the dirty canal and heaps of dirt was left beside the slums near the canal up to the middle of the canal road. This was as usual caused a lot off problems for the pedestrians and the vehicle users. This heap of wastes was a refuge for bacteria, flies and mosquitoes giving rise to the possibility of diseases like malaria, dengue, typhoid etc. Recently when it heavily poured in the city, the canal flowed down the road and the dirt taken out of it was all over the place making the place most unhygienic and unpleasant. Here also the most affected were the slum people and the pavement dwellers who had to live in those areas as they had no where to go.In Ellispuram, slum dwellers live in one room houses given by the Housing board.
The residents complained of water leakage from the houses and no electricity in the Block D. They also complained off poor sanitation facilities and improper water supply.When the officials of the slum clearance board were asked about this they replied that these civic conditions of the slums are regularly taken care off in spite of many problems.“It all depends on their cooperation.” Says Mrs. Manimekalai, Deputy Planner, Slum Clearance Board.According to her around 20%-30% of the slum dwellers don’t pay a monthly fee of Rs.250 which is collected by the slum clearance board fort he maintenance of the houses provided by them. For this reason the government is unable to provide them with adequate facilities. “This is a problem of both sides. If they pay regularly, maintenance becomes easier.” Says Mr. Shanugam, Chief Development Officer.For the pavement dwellers the government has a scheme of ‘Sites and Services’.
In this case the land site is selected and the dwellers are given cash loans and are asked to construct their own houses. But the officials argue that this facility is not being availed by the people as they are not willing to shift from their present places. The slum dwellers who have been given houses complain of water leakage during the rains. But the view of the government officials completely contradicts to what the people living in these slums say. “The present government is cooperative towards the welfare of the slums.” Says Mrs. Manimekalai.She explained that in every budget some amount of money is allocated towards welfare of the slum dwellers. But they are not able to solve each and every problem because they work towards the problems on a priority basis. She also added that the damage to the houses also is due to the age of the houses.
In Ellispuram, the houses are nearly 65 years old and during the rains the rooms leaks profusely making it impossible for people to stay in there.According to the government data, every year some amount of funds are allocated towards the renovation of these houses. But when one sees the condition in which these people are living one really wonders where these funds go.

The Naxal Issue

2006-03-08T05:50:00.000-08:00

India is witnessing an armed struggle against the State in 156-odd districts spread over 13 states. The response of the State to such an armed struggle has been epigodic and ad hoc because the state functionaries have treated this large scale social unrest as a mere law and order problem. Naxalism is quite active in states like Andhra Pradesh, Chhattisgarh, Jharkhand, Bihar, Orissa and Maharastra, while some elements of it can be also found in West Bengal, Uttar Pradesh, Tamil Nadu, Uttaranchal, Kerela, Karnataka and Madhya Pradesh.On November 1, when Bihar was wrapped up in the third phase of polling for the state Assembly, hundreds of Left wing extremists attacked Jehanabad. At least six persons including two police men, two naxalites and two members of the Ranvir Sena i.e. the army of landlords were killed. They stormed into the jail and freed hundreds of their cadres lodged there. There have been reports that eight of Ranvir Sena men have been executed.This is not the first naxalite attack of such nature. Such attacks have been previously carried out on many occasions. The genesis of this kind of naxal problem lies in the unfinished agenda of land reforms and Indian State’s insensitivity to tribal exploitation by contractors, bureaucrats and politicians in the remote tribal areas. India has abolished traditional rent seeking landlordism but the surplus land has not yet been distributed among the landless. The Scheduled castes, landless agricultural workers are being ruthlessly dealt in such cases. The Yadavs of Bihar and Uttar Pradesh, the Jats of Haryana, Rajasthan, western Uttar Pradesh or the Reddy’s of Andhra Pradesh have captured the State machinery and they are hardly interested in undertaking any land reforms. It is not the question of land reforms alone but even the minimum statutory wages is not even paid to the landless workers who toil hard to earn their living.However, State governments, controlled by the backward castes, middle peasantry are not at all committed to implement the policies concerning the amelioration of the living conditions of the tribals and the dalits. The Bihar government had turned a blind eye to private arms of high caste landlords like Ranvir Sena, which were inflecting private vendetta against the oppressed and the struggling landless workers. Recently, only two states, Andhra Pradesh and Chhattisgarh had decided to impose ban on the naxals. The ban on the naxalites in Andhra Pradesh is merely a return of old times. The ban was in force for 12 years from 1992 to 2004 and is back now.The government in order to curb the growing naxalite menace had agreed to make an Inter-State Joint Task Force on Sept 19th. But in spite of that the naxalite attack in Jehanabad took place. The government blames it on inadequate security system but the actual problem is that the existing laws of our country have virtually criminalized the traditional existence of the tribal people. Apart from these better policing, we need something like the proposed Forest Dwellers bill, to break the grip of the naxalites over the tribal loyalties. The naxal problem is a result of serious omissions and commissions by those who have been elected to serve the masses. And our government should realize this first. This social problem can be resolved only if the Indian State follows social welfare policies. Policies like national Rural Employment Guarantee Act which was approved recently could perhaps help tackle the growing naxal problem.