Let me free!

When college suspends one guy for fagging, makes it an issue when a girl’s texts suggest she is in a relationship (don’t wonder how they read her texts, they don’t believe in privacy!), when the warden tells me what not to wear to the girls’hostel’s mess (no exaggeration!), when people have a problem if my dad chooses to buy me a phone with a camera, and the problem gets bigger if I’m on the phone after ten and and the worst of all, when they don’t let me step out of the campus when I feel like - not for a meal, or even just a stroll, I wonder. I wonder, what the logic behind all this is. Do they think restriction leads to what they term discipline?

I’ve two things to say to them. First, Not talking to people of the opposite gender and wrapping myself in layers of clothes, doesn’t make me disciplined. If you think it does, you’ve got a lot of thinking to do, before complete comprehension. Second, restriction doesn’t help. Get creative. Try other methods.

‘Discipline’ is the word I hate the most in English. It’s the least understood word, the most misinterpreted word, yet the most used word by every random person who loves to throw around free advice. These people, who believe it’s their responsibility to enlighten us, assume a girl is undisciplined when her hair isn’t tied up, a guy lacks discipline when he has a li’l longer-than-usual length hair. And the common rule for all young people, it’s indiscipline to have head phones on or play music loud.

Leaving aside this ignorance, and moving on, even if they want a non-smoking, single young man or woman who is a tee-totaller and completely covered , restriction is the last method that will work. It’s not rules that make a person, it’s a person’s beliefs and opinions that make him/her what he/she is. Once an adult, a person should be allowed to choose what is right for him. Surely, any 18 year old deserves this autonomy. This is what learning to live one one’s own is all about, and ironically, that’s the reason why one goes to a hostel. Sadly, we are all denied this choice. Restriction only causes frustration, and prolonged frustration will only lead to burst-outs. I write this out of frustration, that’s been building up for a long time now.

Rectifying a misconception is out of question when one denies its existence. So as long as this realization doesn’t happen, I guess we will all have to toy around with the rules, and find our way out.

The on-screen India

I’ve always been a proud Indian, I ‘ve loved India, I still do. Here is something I’ve noticed: every now and then, some video I watch intensifies this love. There’s something about them that gives me a feeling of belongingness to India. An emotional ingredient in such videos inspires me. It makes me glad I belong here. It gives me a sense of pride. It makes me smile to myself in genuine happiness.

It happens all the time; there is this sudden surge of patriotic emotions when I watch one of these Incredible India videos on YouTube. The music that goes with the video, the peace it gives, it is inspiring.

Is it just me, or does looking at India on screen, make it more beautiful?

Reading that India is the biggest democracy and that it’s got the second biggest something or the third biggest something else is not what I’m talking about. Nor is it the claims that, credit goes to India for the first wireless system and the concepts of surgery or the several others of this sort. It’s not such facts or statistics. I’m talking about the essence of life, that you can just feel, watching these videos.

It’s not just such videos. The other day I was cosying on the couch, flipping through the countless tv channels, grumbling about how monotonous the hols had become. I caught a glimpse of something that seemed familiar, I went back to it. It was As I passed Travel and Living- some show featuring the streets ofChennai, hosted by Meera Vasudevan, an actor and model. I went on to watch the show- An Indian Rendezvous- for more than an hour. The show, showed me Chennai in a different perspective, made me see what I see every day, differently. I don’t know why India on screen seems way more awesome, but I did give it some thought.

Some post-tvshow reflection, made me realize I miss out on the li’l, yet beautiful things that the show accentuated on, in real life. Time becomes too important a factor, for any to be left, for the small things that go unnoticed. The time I spent on hindsight told me I don’t take that extra second to look at the street side idli shop, or the throng of li’l kids playing cricket on the roads. I don’t even realize it when the resonant sound of temple bells ringing or the echoes of the evening namaz, fill the air. I’m just too worked up with seemingly important, but in point of fact, trivial things, to perceive the common, minute, but enchanting entities around.

My reasoning might not be perfect, nevertheless, the India I see on screen, is a different one from the one I see everyday.

Salem, As I see it!

Salem! This’s my place. This’s where I was born, this’s where I’ve lived all my life. This’s where I belong. I assume, you know that Salem is a tier-2 city in Tamil Nadu. (If you don’t, remember Salem steel plant? It must have been there! In some corner of you eighth grade geography book.)

Here is a gist of my place, As I see it.

A typical convo!

-Coffee day? Barista?

-Naa.

-Oh! Alright, surely there’s gotta be a pizza hut.

-Nope. There’s a pizza corner though.

-Oh damn! This sucks! Rural area, probably.

-:o!!

Let’s face it. Salem is no metro. It’s not the coolest place around. It’s no Bangalore. It’s not even close to where you’d place Cbe.

If you ever visit Salem, which you surely should, there is one thing you just shouldn’t let pass. I’m talking about what we call the ‘Settu kadai’. It’s a roadside mobile eatery that serves some awesome food (U got it? thinking of ‘set dosa’? You’ve no idea what I’m talking about, quit guessing.) At close to seven in the evening, get outta where you stay (on a bike, I suggest). You might have to hang about a bit before you spot the guy. Nevertheless, you wouldn’t lament it, it’s surely worth it. You would certainly find it nowhere else. That’s a bike ride, awesome food and easy on the pocket as well!

So, unless you’re a hygiene freak or the kind who refuses to eat from the road-side hawkers, this is surely SOMETHING!

Yercaud! Li’l Ooty! A forty minute drive to awesomeness! Get outta bed and into our car, drive uphill with the windows down, turn up the music, loud and intense, feel the morning chill as the wind hits your face and makes your eyes watery. Look all around, see the beauty, listen to it, feel it, experience it. Reach the place, sip some hot tea to feel the warmth as it descends down your throat. Spend the day chilling out. The drive downhill, it’s something you ought not miss. The top view of Salem, the countless street lights in a backdrop of black, dark silence is a breathtaking site. In all, I promise you a beautiful day.

Bangalore and Chennai have too many things, which Salem is short of, traffic as well. :P That’s one thing that’s cool about Salem. You don’t spend half your day swearing at the red that never turns green here. Small town, lesser population, insignificant traffic, distances are way shorter and travelling is not a piss off. It’s fun in fact.

In spite of the many times when I got bored of the eateries, when I was fed up of riding through the same roads, when I couldn’t think of any new place to hang out, there’ s something about the place that I miss when I’m not in town. It’s just that it’s home, I guess. =)

Stop over sometime, to see Salem as you see it. =)

Overtly corrupt

India is corrupt, every government office in India is, blah blah… How much of this have we heard? Same with me. I ve heard a lot of this. Real lots, to the point that I’m bored of it and it ‘s nothing more than one of the most common (and boring) essay topics. Never thought this will be a post on my blog, until recently…. when I saw it, right there, so openly.

It was when I got my license. Oh yeah, I got my license-for 2 wheelers and 4 wheelers as well . How cool is that? J

(Yeah.Yeah, no more bullshitting, my point is right here!)

I was there at the RTO office at ten like my driving school instructor asked me to (I gotta admit, I learnt privately. And my driving school id and report was all fake). I practised a bit, carefully driving my way through the very curvy ‘S’ shaped path. The ‘8’ for my scooty was facile. Pleased with myself, while waiting for the inspector to turn up, I delved into my pocket for my mp3 player, but it wasn’t there. I scurried to the car hoping to find it. For the second time in one minute, I emptied my pockets, this time for the car keys, and to my horror, it wasn’t there either. I knew where it was, the ignition.I’ve never felt that dumb and helpless in all my life. And as if to illustrate the most rotten luck ever, the inspector chose the same minute to enter the office. I had no idea what I was going to do. If not dad’s Santro, I had to drive a jeep like dirty thing parked in the corner there. The thought of it made me nervous. The driving school instructor said I could try the curvy ‘S’ on the jeep looking thing if I wanted to. I climbed into the jeep and there was some old guy who was almost barking at me. I was struggling to make sense out of the barking. And he was sitting right next to me all the way through the ‘S’. I was supposed to carry out all that he asked me to and nothing more. Infuriated, I climbed out of the car careful not to touch the grease and black crap all over the car.

Soon I was called for the scooty pep test, I was done in ten seconds (The inspector didn’t look at me for even 2 seconds). I was watching the others. There was this guy who made his was through the ‘8’ with one leg on the ground, and I was bewildered when he got through too. Everyone did! The test was just for the procedure’s sake. Following this was my car driving test and shockingly the old guy was right there instructing me even this time. The inspector didn’t bother one bit. I passed. (I got my license that night.)

On the way back I was discussing this with our driver, who made it clear that passing the test without a driving school’s help is highly improbable. Half of the cash paid to the driving school fills the inspector’s pockets. And all the inspector has to do is nod and sign the papers. And done! Everyone profits. The inspector obviously does. A guy who sucks at driving passes the test. The driving school gets more popular. Noone complains!

To me the most appalling thing was how openly it was done. There was nothing clandestine about it. Little does anyone think of the safety apects. Who knows, a more fair and just test might mitigate accidents to a substantial extent. Only when this is given some thought it’s magnitude and hence its consequences can be realized. And I don’t see any change happening in this system, as it is one that keeps everyone happy.

Sad, but true!

It used to be just a line of them outside temples. Now, they are more spread out. They exist in trains, buses, markets, roads….everywhere!! They are ubiquitous. They’ve increased in number at such an enormous rate that, they’ve become a part of Indian roads. Harsh it may sound, but its true, and there is no denying to it. Surely, you know who I’m talking about. It’s palpable. Beggars!!
You’re running late. You’re on your bike, speeding, hurrying to class/work. And unfortunately for you, the signal glows red. You stop, cursing your rotten luck. And when you’re muttering things (swearing :P) under your breath, you see this woman with a baby, pleading for help. Surely your in no mood to even smile. But a look at that hungry baby, you pity it. You give the lady the first coin your fingers find in your pocket. And you forget it at that instant. (Even a thought about it later, it is more of a feel-good thought, as you tell yourself, the woman needs the coin more than you do) This is a common scenario. If not the same, something similar. The point I’m trying to make here is, in most situations, the woman(in this case) in the end gets what she wants.
It’s true that beggar is poorer and he/she has needs more than we do. But are we encouraging beggary by this little act? Shouldn’t the beggar (unless he/she is disabled or too old to function) earn by other decent, respectable means? Why encourage an able guy this way? Can laziness be a disability?Are we doing harm, in the name of generosity?
That too, after stories about well-off people, who choose to beg (as it’s supposedly a profession with decently high income), you’ll never know,the guy who walks around in rags, might be as rich as you. And worse, after slumdog millionaire, you can’t even be sure if the coin you gave satisfies the hunger of the kid you pitied. It might end up adding to the wealth of some rogue, who heartlessly beats up kids (sometimes ruthlessly blinds kids).
I’ve never been able to take a stand on this. I’m always caught in between rational deliberation and sympathy. But I believe there has to be an end to beggary.
P.S.: If you live/stay in Coimbatore, tell me your opinions. Every time I walk into RSPuram, I see so many li’l kids begging. I always think of the movie,Slumdog. You think it’s possible that there’s something more to it than what is evident?

Value every moment u’ve got!

Back in school, I remember….. there was this li’l boy (my friend’s nephew), who was truly a source of happiness to everyone my friend’s (more of an acquaintance) family. He was 3 or maybe 4. I’ve never seen him, but I’ve heard a lot, real lot about him. So from what I’ve heard, this li’l toddler was so adorably cute in everything he did. Everyone loved him, and to the friend (the acquaintance, like I already told you) he was everything, he meant a world to her.

Letting that stay there, let’s get back to NOW. Recently, I was talking to Akshaya. We were together after real long, so we had loads to talk. And suddenly, in the middle of something else, she asked me if I remember that li’l kid, I was just talking about. I did remember, yeah. I told her that. And what she told me next, came as a big shock to me. She said, “He passed away”. I’ve never seen the kid. I’ve never heard him talk. I’ve never known him enough to love him like many of my friends did. Nothing at all. But this was just too much to take. I was too shocked to even talk, so I remained quiet, and she explained to me about the accident that killed him, and left his mum and dad (who survived with injuries) and the whole family shattered.

This for some reason has been lingering in my mind all the time, right from the minute she told me. I still cant digest it, though there is no two ways to it. It has happened. It’s a fact. It seems so cruel though, so cruel to be true. It hurts to think of the pain the kid must have endured and the pain his parents must be going through after having lost their only kid.

I’ve been thinking about this all day. DAMN!! One day, the kid is the sweetheart of everyone in the house and the next day, the kid is no more. It scares me to realize that life is so volatile, that everything is uncertain. The worst part is that such bad things happen when we least expect them. Imagine having a conversation with someone today, not knowing if it might be the last one. It creeps me out.

But, It is no use complaining, we’ve just got to accept it. That’s the way life is, I guess. It’s sometimes happy, sometimes sad, but uncertain all the time. So it’s best to value every moment of life that there is, cause God forbid, it might evaporate the next hour.

Li'l is beautiful!!

Before I begin, let me introduce to you, Govindamma (in short, Goindma), a woman in her fifties. She is the maid, who works at my place. She s been with us for almost ten years now (probably even more),a very cheerful woman, who is all smiles most of the time, in spite of the numerous problems she faces (that too single handedly, she doesn’t live with her husband). Truly, she s someone who has been there all along, behind the scene, doing things I hate doing. Being in a hostel now, I realize how cumbersome washing clothes and cleaning can be. Lol. And I really wonder how someone can wash clothes and vessels and clean things everyday and still smile at the end of it (had I been in her place, I’m quite sure, I’d spend half my day frowning).lol

Till a couple of years ago, many times when she has tried playing around with me or my brother, we’ve been snobbish and sometimes even snapped back. She didn’t give up then. She continued being what she was- playful, forever cheerful and lively. She still is. The difference now is the change in my attitude I suppose. Now when I’m nice to her, and when I make her smile, it makes me real happy to see the happiness reflecting on her face. And this is when I realized that I don’t have to do big things to delight her. Very little things can do the job. A chat about her grandson, or a toffee for him, or sometimes just a smile would do. I’ve made a “hi” and a “bye” accompanied by a warm smile, habitual.

It’s not just her, a lot of such people who do li’l li’l things- cleaning the roads, waiters, drivers… It often happens that we take them for granted. A minute thought of a world without them would do more than telling us how important they are. It’s important that we give them some momentary pleasure. That’s the least we can do. A smile, a “Thanks”, any friendly gesture (even a nod)… They cost nothing, but can mean a lot.

Let’s do the li’l we can, to make them smile and to make their life beautiful. :)