And life goes on..

Air India employees are understandably pissed with the guy’s attitude. But I say, way to go!! Finally, we get a PSU head who has the guts to call a spade a spade. He seems to have the vision, all right; whether that translates into an actual turn-around of our failing national carrier, remains to be seen.

**

My twitter account has been blocked. Ostensibly because I sent spammy messages about some breast enhancement pills. Sigh. Die, blue bird, die.

**

I joined driving class, and thought it was progressing well. Then, cousin comes along, and decides to give me ‘kin-ly’ driving advice. Cousin’s idea of teaching me driving is to park the car on a slope and asking me to a) start the car, b) drive up the slope till we reach relatively flatter land and c) change gears while I did a) and b). Suffice it to say that the lesson proved to be a harrowing experience for all involved. Note: slopes aren’t quite the ideal learning ground for beginners. And bludy hell, its tough, you know – managing the clutch, the accelarator and the gears all at one go, while making sure the car doesn’t just slide down and crash into the vehicle behind you. And ever since, I haven’t even attempted driving my car – confidence levels are that low. Damn the cousin.

**

Someone just pointed out I type weird – using only one finger from both hands. But my typing speed is pretty good. So how does it really matter?

**

Also, currently reading (trying to read, actually) Salman Rushdie’s ‘Shalimar, the Clown’ and Arvind Adiga’s ‘The White Tiger’. For some strange reason, both books are proving so, so hard to read. Rushdie’s excessive use of complicated-sounding English words is a total turn-off (fine, man, we all know you can write – can you now please focus on the story?), while in Adiga’s case, he just over-does it, you know.. I wish I could put it better, but its that annoying way of writing, when authors get so carried away with their own intelligence that they just never get the hint and bludy move on. The heart longs for some Khushwant singh. Time-pass guaranteed.

Anni’verse’ary

Happened to read in this morning’s paper (Mumbai Mirror, no less) that Alfred Tennyson’s 200th birth centenary will be celebrated in August this year. That mention of Tennyson brought nice childhood memories to my mind (apart from the old confusion about whether the ‘Lord’ was a title that ought to be used before his name, as in Lord Alfred Tennyson, or whether it was actually a part of his family name, making it Alfred Lord Tennyson): memories of poetry contests in school that I would participate in despite my poor recitation skills. My choice of poetry would have charmed any scholar of English – Tennyson’s ‘Blow, Bugle, Blow’ and Walter de la Mare’s ‘Lord of Tartary’, carefully picked out of a much-cherished and well-preserved book of poems (a hand-me-dowm from my grandma) – poems chosen not merely for the sentiment they conveyed, but also for the ease with which I could recite the verses without making a prize ass of msyelf.

I go back to poems every now and then, though I am primarily, as are many others, more prose-oriented now. It’s a lost art these days, poetry, both the reading of it as well as the writing. And its a pity really – especially when you see the works of great minds snatched out of context and quoted only on greeting cards and valentine days – the genius of the poet being used to mask the utter lack of originality of the lover.

But I can only shake my head sadly and sigh.

(The following few verses remain my favourite for various reasons – either because of the emotion they inspire, or because of the context in which I first came across these lines.)

Happened to read in this morning’s paper (Mumbai Mirror, no less) that Alfred Tennyson’s 200th birth centenary will be celebrated in August this year. That mention of Tennyson brought nice childhood memories to my mind (apart from the old confusion about whether the ‘Lord’ was a title that ought to be used before his name, as in Lord Alfred Tennyson, or whether it was actually a part of his family name, making it Alfred Lord Tennyson): memories of poetry contests in school that I would participate in despite my poor recitation skills. My choice of poetry would have charmed any scholar of English – Tennyson’s ‘Blow, Bugle, Blow‘ and Walter de la Mare’s ‘Lord of Tartary‘, carefully picked out of a much-cherished and well-preserved book of poems (a hand-me-dowm from my grandma) – poems chosen not merely for the sentiment they conveyed, but also for the ease with which I could recite the verses without making a prize ass of msyelf.

I go back to poems every now and then, though I am primarily, as are many others, more prose-oriented now. It’s a lost art these days, poetry, both the reading of it as well as the writing. And its a pity really – especially when you see the works of great minds snatched out of context and quoted only on greeting cards and valentine days – the genius of the poet being used to mask the utter lack of originality of the lover.

But I can only shake my head sadly and sigh.

(The following few verses remain my favourite for various reasons – either because of the emotion they inspire, or because of the context in which I first came across these lines.)

Sudden Light – Dante Gabriel Rosetti (for the romantic in me)

“You have been mine before —
How long ago I may not know:
But just when at that swallow’s soar
Your neck turned so,
Some veil did fall,and I knew it all of yore.”

Mercy – William Shakespeare (my grandma’s favorite – she would recite it often to us when we were kids – and I can’t quite express it, but it is a poem that appeals to the noble side of the human spirit. The poem is an extract from Shakespeare’s play ‘The Merchant of Venice’: the court-room scene where Porta defends Antonio against Shylock, the Jew, and pleads to the latter to drop his demand for the pound of flesh.)

“It (mercy) is twice blest;

It blesseth him that gives and him that takes:

‘Tis mightiest in the mightiest: it becomes

The throned monarch better than his crown;

……….

Therefore, Jew,

Though justice be thy plea, consider this,

That, in the course of justice, none of us

Should see salvation: we do pray for mercy;

And that same prayer doth teach us all to render

The deeds of mercy.”

John Donne – For whom the bell tolls (long story, this, but sent to me, in context, by a person who I shall always regard as being among the most enlightened people I have ever had the pleasure of knowing)

“No man is an island,

Entire of itself.

….

Each man’s death diminishes me,

For I am involved in mankind.

Therefore, send not to know

For whom the bell tolls,

It tolls for thee.”

Elizabeth Barrett Browning – How do I love thee? (I only hope that all who read the following lines are blessed with the opportunity to feel as profound a love as these lines convey)

“How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.

….

I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;

I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.

I love with a passion put to use

In my old griefs, and with my childhood’s faith.

I love thee with a love I seemed to lose

With my lost saints, I love thee with the breath,

Smiles, tears, of all my life! and, if God choose,

I shall but love thee better after death.”

Woohoo!!

Guess this recent move of mine just about makes me the first jobless* person to buy a car in times of recession. And I tell you – it takes guts, people!! (And confidence in your ability to wheedle some cash out of the ‘Shek’ of Dubai in case things do go horribly wrong).

But I am (rather, shall soon be) proud owner of a Hyundai Accent – colour still being debated (black vs silver). Made the booking the day before yesterday and the bank loan should be cleared by the weekend. And I am rather proud of the achievement – to my grandchildren I can always boast I bought my own first car, and that too, at the age of 23!! Woohoo!!

Plan is to take posession of the vehicle around the first week of August – to coincide with Dad’s birthday. And I need the time gap – after all, I’ll have to learn how to drive first

* Well, the jobless situation isn’t as bleak as it sounds, really. I am supposed to join my new workplace on August 1, so technically speaking, I’m between-jobs. Makes me feel a whole lot better, put that way.

Guess this recent move of mine just about makes me the first jobless* person to buy a car in times of recession. And I tell you – it takes guts, people!! (And confidence in your ability to wheedle some cash out of the ‘Shek’ of Dubai in case things do go horribly wrong).

But I am (rather, shall soon be) proud owner of a Hyundai Accent – colour still being debated (black vs silver). Made the booking the day before yesterday and the bank loan should be cleared by the weekend. And I am rather proud of the achievement – to my grandchildren I can always boast I bought my own first car, and that too, at the age of 23!! Woohoo!!

Plan is to take posession of the vehicle around the first week of August – to coincide with Dad’s birthday. And I need the time gap – after all, I’ll have to learn how to drive first

* Well, the jobless situation isn’t as bleak as it sounds, really. I am supposed to join my new workplace on August 1, so technically speaking, I’m between-jobs. Makes me feel a whole lot better, put that way.

Songs for a rainy day

Your local radio station will have you believe that the only song worth playing on a rainy day is that ‘Zara zara’ number, with the lilting flute notes and the overall sense of the erotic. However, if you aren’t particularly in the mood for romance, and don’t mind listening to some wonderful oldies, you simply must listen to these – highly recommended, especially if you happen to be nursing a cup of steaming coffee and reminiscing about times gone by:

“Rhythm of the Falling Rain” by The Cascades. Didn’t have the music file on my PC; hence the link to YouTube (the video is just a filler-thing. I don’t think they ever picturised this one).

Also, “Alone again, naturally” by Gilbert O’Sullivan. Had the music file this time around, but thought the video was also worth a watch, simply because it does such a nice job of giving away information about the singer.

Also, for anyone who can find it, as there seem to be no audio / video files on the internet, “You’re the one I sing my love songs to” by Stoney Edwards. I heard the original on a music cassette (yes, I come from that generation), a hand-me-down from my aunt. Soothing voice, wonderful lyrics and just perfect for the freshly out-of-love. *evil grin*

FCUK – the French Connection

Trust the French to come out in the open and say that the veil is

unfashionable, and ban it – though on hindsight, it isn’t too surprising -

Paris, after all, has a reputation to protect. My first reaction on

hearing Sarkozy make that statement against the naqab / hijab was ‘Whaaaa!

Damn. Now we know who Osama will be training his guns on next.’

I was surprised to note there weren’t too many protests – I thought major

effify-burning and sloganeering and picketing will happen following

Sarkozy’s statement. I am personally of the opinion that the world could

have done without the French tut-tut-ing; if France’s objective was to

further the cause of emancipation for Muslim women (and I do think its

very presumptuous of the West to decide they could not only help in such

emancipation, but also define what this emancipation was), that object

would have been better served by funding education for Muslim women, and

having them trained in legal / political rights. I am no supporter of the

hijab, but I think the choice of whether to wear or not to wear the

garment is best left to each Muslim woman, a choice that is her

prerogative alone.

And unforgivably crude as I may sound while saying this, but a President

whose wife has, allegedly, done nude shots for magazine covers, is in my

opinion, least qualified to pass decision on matters of dress and undress.

Or is that the emancipation the French had in mind?

Trust the French to come out in the open and say that the veil is unfashionable, and ban it – though on hindsight, it isn’t too surprising - Paris, after all, has a reputation to protect. My first reaction on hearing Sarkozy make that statement against the naqab / hijab was ‘Whaaaa! Damn. Now we know who Osama will be training his guns on next.’

I was surprised to note there weren’t too many protests – I thought major effigy-burning and sloganeering and picketing will happen following Sarkozy’s statement. I am personally of the opinion that the world could have done without the French tut-tut-ing; if France’s objective was to further the cause of emancipation for Muslim women (and I do think its very presumptuous of the West to decide they could not only help in such emancipation, but also define what this emancipation was), that object would have been better served by funding education for Muslim women, and having them trained in legal / political rights. I am no supporter of the hijab, but I think the choice of whether to wear or not to wear the garment is best left to each Muslim woman, a choice that is her prerogative alone.

And unforgivably crude as I may sound while saying this, but a President whose wife has, allegedly, done nude shots for magazine covers, is in my opinion, least qualified to pass decision on matters of dress and undress. Or is that the emancipation the French had in mind?

Order, Order! (Or perhaps not)

I sense a pattern here. Let’s see now -

Case 1: People of Mumbai vs Govt. Of India (Ministry of Railways)

The problem:

Virar-Vasai residents were fed up of the shoddy train service between

their station and other such major stops such as Andheri, Bandra, Dadar

and Churchgate, and regularly complained to the Western Railways, urging

them to increase the number of trains plying to Virar, a demand that they

had been making for almost 5 years.

The solution:

The authorities decided to fall in with the demands of these

long-suffering commuters and did a fantastic job of improving train

service to Virar. However, they did this by cutting down the number of

trains that originated / terminated at Borivli, another major station on

the WR network. As the number of commuters in Borivli hadn’t dropped in

line with this reduction of trains, the inevitable happened – it was now

the turn of commuters there to be left with inadequate transportation. The

WR did make feeble attempts to introduce more trains into the system;

however, most of these were either diverted to Virar, or were no match for

peak hour traffic in Borivli.

The learning:

What was needed were more trains. However, the WR was too full of

bureaucratic bullshit to shake off its sluggish pace of work, and now, the

people of Borivli are on war with the people of Virar – both are fighting

for a limited resource – transportation.

Conclusion: Defendant changed. People of Mumbai vs. People of Mumbai

Case 2: People of Mumbai vs Govt. Of Maharashtra

The problem:

Mumbai has always been a cosmopolitan city – its riches have not grown

overnight, but are the result of earnest toil and business cunning. Many

communities have contributed to Mumbai’s thriving business culture – the

Parsis, the Gujaratis, the Sindhis, the South-Indians, the Marwaris, to

name a few. And somewhere in this bustle of activity, no-one noticed that

the so-called original inhabitants had been edged out. Where are the

Maharashtrians, the Sena asked. And no-one really had an answer.

The solution:

More jobs for the locals, the politicians demanded. At present, the

largest concentration of Maharashtrian workers in Mumbai can only be found

in the State Government’s offices. The State passed a General Resolution

that 90% of all jobs were to be reserved for the locals, and the

resolution was recently amended to include reservations in the private

sector. Long-time residents of other communities took up cudgels with the

State Government – when labour was put in by so many, how can the fruits

of that labour be enjoyed by so few? While resentment against such

populist ‘marathi manoos’ propoganda built up, the goons hired by the

political parties continued to attack migrants from the North, denting,

forever perhaps, Mumbai’s claims of a cosmopolitan identity.

The learning:

What was needed was a tolerant government that understood that the right

to a livelihood is a fundamental right guaranteed by the Indian

constitution, and that reserving jobs for the ‘locals’ goes very much

against the spirit of Indian democracy. The State government should have

floated a scheme to support Maharashtrian entrepreneurial talent, or

fought more aggressively for industries (and thusly, industrial jobs) that

are now being bagged by Gujarat and Andhra Pradesh. The State government

should have played its part in creating jobs. Instead, it resorted to

populist propoganda, and in India’s most commercially-driven city, a wound

festers, as both the ‘locals’ and the ‘outsiders’ slug it out for the jobs

on offer.

Conclusion: Defendant changed. People of Mumbai vs. People of Mumbai

Case 3: People of Mumbai vs Govt. of Maharashtra (Co-defendant – GOI HRD

Ministry)

The problem:

The State government has a terrible and outdated system of education that

survives in the competitive field of private education solely due to its

patronage by the State. The reason schools opt for the SSC and HSC

syllabus is similar to the reason individuals try their luck at Government

jobs, I suppose – both offer security with no chances of sudden reversals

in fortune – they both, after all, carry the backing of the mighty State.

The ICSE and the CBSE seem more evolved as compared to the home-grown SSC;

but I wouldn’t know, being a product of the SSC myself. The schools that

opt for the ICSE and CBSE syllabi also appear to be more evolved than

their SSC counterparts, and therefore, an increasing number of parents

from the rich and middle class in Mumbai are now flocking to these schools

to enrol their wards. Probably as a product of better education and a more

lenient marking system, CBSE and ICSE students often get placed in the

best colleges in the city, leaving few seats for the SSC students, who

form the bulk of students passing out in any given year.  This created

resentment among parents whose wards were enrolled in SSC schools.

The solution:

In an attempt to allegedly ‘correct’ this situation, the State government

first tried to ram through a ridiculous percentile system – one so

complicated that they themselves were unable to fully explain its working

at the High Court of Bombay. While the courts saved us from the imbeciles

on that occasion, the State is back with a vengeance – this time with a

Government Resolution that aims to reserve 90% seats in junior collegs for

SSC students. How this 90-10 ratio will work keeping in mind the other

quotas colleges already practice (minority, SC/ST, community-based,

assorted-relatives-of-freedom-fighters, etc quotas) is anyone’s guess.

The learning:

The State government should have improved its own syllabus and grading at

the SSC / HSC level, and should have also created the necessary

infrastructure to provide higher education to the burgeoning student

numbers. It should have established relevant guidelines that encouraged

investment and competition in the sector of private sector higher

education, which at the end of the day operates like any other business -

get investors, create a competitive syllabus and fee structure, and close

the demand-supply gap. Instead, in the guise of the HRD ministry, it

maintains a stranglehold over education in India – the State does nothing

to usher in reforms, nor does it allow anyone else to do so. Meanwhile, in

Mumbai, one set of parents are at war with another to ensure another

Constitutional given – the right to decent education.

Conclusion: Defendant changed. People of Mumbai vs. People of Mumbai

Does anyone else see the pattern here?

I sense a pattern here. Let’s see now -

Case 1: People of Mumbai vs Govt. Of India (Ministry of Railways)

The problem:
Virar-Vasai residents were fed up of the shoddy train service between their station and other such major stops such as Andheri, Bandra, Dadar and Churchgate, and regularly complained to the Western Railways, urging them to increase the number of trains plying to Virar, a demand that they had been making for almost 5 years.

The solution:
The authorities decided to fall in with the demands of these long-suffering commuters and did a fantastic job of improving train service to Virar. However, they did this by cutting down the number of trains that originated / terminated at Borivli, another major station on the WR network. As the number of commuters in Borivli hadn’t dropped in line with this reduction of trains, the inevitable happened – it was now the turn of commuters there to be left with inadequate transportation. The WR did make feeble attempts to introduce more trains into the system; however, most of these were either diverted to Virar, or were no match for peak hour traffic in Borivli.

The learning:
What was needed were more trains. However, the WR was too full of bureaucratic bullshit to shake off its sluggish pace of work, and now, the people of Borivli are on war with the people of Virar – both are fighting for a limited resource – transportation (and I should know – just this morning, I was witness to a yell-fest – the Virar guys wouldn’t let the Borivli ones in, and the B’vli guys swore to stage a rail-roko in retaliation).

Conclusion: Defendant changed. People of Mumbai vs. People of Mumbai

Case 2: People of Mumbai vs Govt. Of Maharashtra

The problem:
Mumbai has always been a cosmopolitan city – its riches have not grown overnight, but are the result of earnest toil and business cunning. Many communities have contributed to Mumbai’s thriving business culture – the Parsis, the Gujaratis, the Sindhis, the South-Indians, the Marwaris, to name a few. And somewhere in this bustle of activity, no-one noticed that the so-called original inhabitants had been edged out. Where are the Maharashtrians, the Sena asked. And no-one really had an answer.

The solution:
More jobs for the locals, the politicians demanded. At present, the largest concentration of Maharashtrian workers in Mumbai can only be found in the State Government’s offices. The State passed a General Resolution that 90% of all jobs were to be reserved for the locals, and the resolution was recently amended to include reservations in the private sector. Long-time residents of other communities took up cudgels with the State Government – when labour was put in by so many, how can the fruits of that labour be enjoyed by so few? While resentment against such populist ‘marathi manoos’ propaganda built up, the goons hired by the political parties continued to attack migrants from the North, denting, forever perhaps, Mumbai’s claims of a cosmopolitan identity.

The learning:
What was needed was a tolerant government that understood that the right to a livelihood is a fundamental right guaranteed by the Indian constitution, and that reserving jobs for the ‘locals’ goes very much against the spirit of Indian democracy. The State government should have floated a scheme to support Maharashtrian entrepreneurial talent, or fought more aggressively for industries (and thusly, industrial jobs) that are now being bagged by Gujarat and Andhra Pradesh. The State government should have played its part in creating jobs. Instead, it resorted to populist propaganda, and in India’s most commercially-driven city, a wound festers, as both the ‘locals’ and the ‘outsiders’ slug it out for the jobs on offer.

Conclusion: Defendant changed. People of Mumbai vs. People of Mumbai

Case 3: People of Mumbai vs Govt. of Maharashtra (Co-defendant – GOI HRD Ministry)

The problem:
The State government has a terrible and outdated system of education that survives in the competitive field of private education solely due to its patronage by the State. The reason schools opt for the SSC and HSC syllabus is similar to the reason individuals try their luck at Government jobs, I suppose – both offer security with no chances of sudden reversals in fortune – they both, after all, carry the backing of the mighty State. The ICSE and the CBSE seem more evolved as compared to the home-grown SSC; but I wouldn’t know, being a product of the SSC myself. The schools that opt for the ICSE and CBSE syllabi also appear to be more evolved than their SSC counterparts, and therefore, an increasing number of parents from the rich and middle class in Mumbai are now flocking to these schools to enrol their wards. Probably as a product of better education and a more lenient marking system, CBSE and ICSE students often get placed in the best colleges in the city, leaving few seats for the SSC students, who form the bulk of students passing out in any given year.  This created resentment among parents whose wards were enrolled in SSC schools.

The solution:
In an attempt to allegedly ‘correct’ this situation, the State government first tried to ram through a ridiculous percentile system – one so complicated that they themselves were unable to fully explain its working at the High Court of Bombay. While the courts saved us from the imbeciles on that occasion, the State is back with a vengeance – this time with a Government Resolution that aims to reserve 90% seats in junior colleges for SSC students. How this 90-10 ratio will work keeping in mind the other quotas colleges already practice (minority, SC/ST, community-based, assorted-relatives-of-freedom-fighters, etc quotas) is anyone’s guess.

The learning:
The State government should have improved its own syllabus and grading at the SSC / HSC level, and should have also created the necessary infrastructure to provide higher education to the burgeoning student numbers. It should have established relevant guidelines that encouraged investment and competition in the sector of private sector higher education, which at the end of the day operates like any other business - get investors, create a competitive syllabus and fee structure, and close the demand-supply gap. Instead, in the guise of the HRD ministry, it maintains a stranglehold over education in India – the State does nothing to usher in reforms, nor does it allow anyone else to do so. Meanwhile, in Mumbai, one set of parents are at war with another to ensure another Constitutional given – the right to decent education.

Conclusion: Defendant changed. People of Mumbai vs. People of Mumbai

Does anyone else see the pattern here?

So much for my happy ending!

This, people, is the story of my life – a glimpse into the uncertainty and hopelessness that pervades every single day of my ’social’ life.

But first, a disclaimer – I am not the original author of the following post, though I very much wish I were. The actual author, Veda, has a very interesting blog of her own – the other veda (and yes, as Confuseius, I am perhaps better placed than most to appreciate the subtle beauty of ‘the other veda’) – a blog that I happened to stumble upon during some aimless wandering on the internet. The post was originally published in 2006, but as I will happily attest to the fact, the plight of us ‘nice’ girls has seen very little change since then! And therefore, without further delay, I reproduce here in full, without any sort of permission taken from the original author, a definitive ode to nice girls everywhere:
 

“This one is for the nice girls.

Nice girls who will always remain ‘a good friend’. Nice girls who are ‘just one of the guys’. Nice girls who get punched on the arm (because they’re just one of the guys), but never get kissed on the cheek. Or anywhere else.

This is for the women who talk of women’s lib but are secretly too shy to actually ask a guy out. And who must haplessly watch him being asked out by a girl, who’s I.Q. is about as high as her neckline (which, in case you missed the point, usually isn’t too high). This is also for those girls who can never summon up the courage to tell a guy, that they think he’s the best thing since sliced bread. And who will continue to think that while the guy in question flirts shamelessly with them in a half-assed attempt at making a completely different girl jealous. This is in honour of girls who give roses on Rose Day, but never get one back in return. The ones who have to resort to dropping hints in order to get asked out but, (since men are men and wouldn’t take a hint unless it showed up naked on their doorstep bearing apple pie) who never get asked out anyway. This is in salutation to the girls who prefer playing hard to get, and who wonder why all the nice guys are dating women who play not-hard-to-get-at-all. This one is for the girls who’ve been repeatedly told that they’re smart and cute and desirable – just not by the guys they actually care for. This is a voice for women who appreciate that under the macho-man-randy-savage testosterone drive, most guys are not too bad, as friends or as anything else, and who don’t honestly want to be put on a pedestal and be worshipped for thinking so.

This is a tribute to girls who never have doors held out for them, never have chairs pulled for them, and never complain about it. This is for women who’d happily split the bill with a friend, boyfriend, husband if only they’d had one. And if only he’d let them. This is in defence of women who give tentative hugs out of the fear that they might send the ‘wrong signals’, who never drink too much at parties so they’d never have to be ‘cared for’ and who never, ever misbehave. And this is also for the girls who still stay friends with girls who openly flirt with their boyfriends, but who’d never dream of stealing their best friend’s boyfriend, even if he’s their intellectual soulmate. Because they’re nice girls and nice girls don’t do that sort of thing.

What nice girls do is get stood up, ditched and taken for granted. Nice girls get to be the friendly ear, someone to crib about ex-girlfriends, present girlfriends and women in general. Nice girls get to be doormats, someone whose house you can use to throw a surprise party for your girlfriend, and who’s left to clean up after you go to drop your girlfriend home. Nice girls get to be someone you kiss when you’re too drunk to notice and someone who’ll accept your profuse apologies the next morning. Nice girls get to grow up believing the Cinderella story, the Ugly Duckling story and all the stories their boyfriends tell them about why they’re getting calls from ex-girlfriends in the middle of the night.

This, dear nice girls, is for every time a guy told you that “any guy would be lucky to have you” and you wished he’s stop saying that considering he wasn’t doing the having bit himself. This is also for all the times you’ve watched your crush ogle at women whose idea of socializing involves high-pitched giggles and cleavage-baring antics. This is for all the hours of knock-knock jokes, breast jokes, beer jokes, women jokes, feminist jokes and dead baby jokes, of being a ‘sport’, being a ‘pal’, being the only one in the group not salivating over the Playmate of the Month, or not having any kind of Mortal Kombat score to discuss. This is for every time you wanted to but couldn’t stop being sensible, for every fun thing you didn’t do because it seemed ‘inappropriate’, every guy you pined for because he was, in some odd way or other, “off limits”. This is for every time you wondered what the hell was wrong with you, if you set off an allergic reaction in men and if that wasn’t the case then why all the men in the world have to have such a lousy taste in women.

The worst part of this story, girls, is that eventually most men look out for someone they can take home to mommy. Oh they’ll shake their heads and laugh it off if you ever suggest it, but deep down that’s what they really want. Eventually. While they’re secretly fantasizing about lingerie models, the only one they’ll really consider marriage material is the girl-next-door variety. Someone who needn’t exactly be a chef extraordinaire, Salma Hayek’s twin or winner of the Nobel Prize for Astrophysics. But also someone who won’t embarrass the shite out of them by quaffing beer, flirting with their cousins at family get-togethers or insisting on dirty dancing with them in public. In other words, a ‘nice’ girl. And till men in general are hit by the proverbial bolt of lightning that, by god, she’s the one I’ve always been looking for, your destiny is to live down the injustice, the humiliation, the heartache and the suffering. Go ahead, just do what you do best. Be nice.”
 

I only wish I shared the author’s optimism!

I’m voting Congress. And you?

Warning, warning – long post ahead!

General elections in India are around the corner and as the world’s biggest democracy goes to vote, commentary is rife on the internet about which party will manage to ‘fix’ coalition numbers in their favour. The other day, one of the people I ‘follow’ on Twitter mentioned that he was contemplating not casting his vote – simply because there was no real ‘choice’ to speak of in terms of candidates or parties, each equally lacking in credibility. Now I realize that our democracy isn’t really the role model we claim it is – our politicians are either inept or corrupt, and quite often both; in a bid to ‘differentiate’ themselves, they often rake up communal / regional divides that are usually far-removed from the sentiments of the public they claim to represent; and finally, with a majority of our voting population either illiterate or poor, voting is too often, unfortunately, determined by the TV sets a party manages to give away, or the rice it doles out at 2 bucks per kg. So one might well be justified in asking: what does my vote count for anyway?

For me, as an urban, educated voter, the election process isn’t about putting in office a good, able leader who’d have the vision to take our country forward. Oh no, we aren’t there yet. The election process for me is something that is even more basic – its about putting in office someone who’s least likely to inflict further harm on our much-suffering nation. Look at the options we have -

 

The BJP: Vote for them and you’ll put Hindu fanatics in power. Their communal rhetoric manages to plant divides where none exist – and their candidate for PM, Advani, often strikes me as a person who’s in the race only to satisfy his prime-ministerial ambitions. He excels at the blame game, and often pulls low punches (his derogatory personal comments about Sonia Gandhi and Manmohan Singh in the past made me cringe at just how petty this man could get). And yet, the BJP, as a party, has perhaps a better record of governance and development than the UPA.

The Congress: The UPA has done some incredible mis-management during its term. While I was a big cheer-leader of the nuclear deal they brokered, their performance in every other aspect has been a let-down. Like the Comptroller-General of India pointed out in his report a few months back, while the UPA govt has spent big bucks on NREGA and such, there has been very little accountability of the money they lavished on all these schemes. But their saving grace, and appeal to the common man, remains their secular credentials.

The Third Front: A hotch-potch of small and big regional players (mostly small), the Third Front looks like a power contest between Mayawati and the Left and I wouldn’t be surprised if they got down to believing its Dalits and the Left vs the rest of India. Mayawati has done one better than the BJP, emphasising divides within Hindus themselves (Dalits vs Brahmins) as a platform to her winning ticket. If she would have her way, it would be reservations for SC / ST and OBCs all the way, right from our education systems to our jobs. And while I don’t oppose upliftment of the backward classes, I would think the focus should be on the EBCs (economically backward classes), rather than this bizarre system of SC / ST / OBC.
 

So, the elections in India are really about setting our priorities as a nation – at this time in history, what do we really imagine is the stepping stone of our future success – communal harmony, economic development, or social justice? Are we ok with the fact that we are getting richer, even if there’s increasing crime against the minorities in our country? Are we ok with a spend-thrift government that is weak on both, resolve and action? Are we ok with someone who builds lavish ‘corridors’ around Agra even when the rest of her state languishes in dire poverty, and whose power at the Centre will be primarily supported by the might of an anti-industry, anti-reforms Left?

You will realize now that the choice ahead of us is much more momentous in scope than the mere election of particular individuals to the highest office in our country. Its about ensuring that our nation doesn’t screw up on all the issues that do matter – and so, viewed this way, each vote does count. Because in the long term, you wouldn’t simply have propelled a party / individual to the highest office in the country, you would have set the tone for much of India’s policy-making and decisions in a century that truly belongs to us.

And I am voting for communal harmony. (See below.)

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On a separate, and yet related, issue (talk of a paradox!) – Atanu Dey has decided he isn’t going to vote afer all. Atanu is a blogger I respect immensely, and he’s also an Economist by profession. However, in this post dated towards the end of January, he makes a case for the BJP – and his main opposition to the Congress seems to stem from the fact that its a party that just propogates dynastic rule, judges partymen on the basis of their loyalty to the party rather than on merit, and has a history of poor governance behind it. While the post itself makes for an interesting read (in fact, all of Atanu’s posts make for good reading), what held my interest was this particular comment on his blog, in response to this post. The comment is very well-worded and also explains my own support for the Congress – its not that I admire the party, but consider it as the lesser evil. Here’s the comment, reproduced in full, by a certain Nikhila:

“To deal with your carelessly argued second reason first: the BJP is replete with dynasties, with a long history of sons and daughters being established in politics. Manvendra Singh, the son of Jaswant Singh; Dushyant Singh, the son of Vasundhara Raje Scindia and nephew of Yashodhara Raje Scindia, who in turn, are the daughters of Vijayraje Scindia; Karuna Shukla, Vajpayee’s niece, Ranjan Bhattacharya, his foster son-in-law and Pankaj Singh, son of Rajnath Singh are some, to name a few. So your argument that only the Congress has a history of dynastic politics is a joke.

And rishi is right, the BJP simply hasn’t been around long enough to present a viable second generation. The INC has been around for much longer (remember they got us free and made us a republic, while the RSS was sitting around watching the fun) Besides, it’s strange passion for wheezing male geriatrics as prime ministerial candidates or leaders e.g. Vajpayee, Advani, Singhal and successive RSS heads means that it has remained a party dominated by angry old men who have spent their entire lives dreaming of ever-elusive power and who are stuck in a cultural time warp. It is also notably sexist, as the recent attacks in Mangalore and earlier such attacks on us women in UP, MP and Goa testify. Hardly the sort of environment for ambitious youngsters wanting to emulate papa, when papa is desperate to sit on a gaddi even if he is plugged into a ventilator. But the above examples prove that BJP families are game for dynastic politics even then.

Now to come to the first tenet of your argument, that the BJP is not the Congress. Now the Congress is not my favourite party, and it is certainly inept. But let me take your own sentences and rephrase them a little.

“The BJP appears to have one aim: to be in power. Its insatiable appetite for power drives it to adopt the most heinous of politics. It divided the country along religion, creed and gendered lines. It fractures civil society, it destroys institutions. The most despicable act has been its wanton destruction of the education system — which, mind you, wasn’t much to write home about anyway”.

To add, it perpetuates an educational system through its religious schools that seeks to deny the child the right to learn English (The global lingua franca and your preferred language of communication Mr. Dey, and the one that got you where you are), explicitly promotes the supremacy of one religion over another (the Hindutva equivalent of the madrassa) etc. Let us not forget what Murli Manohar Joshi wanted to do to the IITs and IIMs, some of the bits of our educational system that are functioning rather well.

You say kakistocracy, I say the alternative you propose is a Hindu theocracy (with kakistocrastic bits thrown in, remember Bangaru Laxman and Narendra Modi?). The choice to vote, of course, is yours. And mine. But wait, I don’t have a choice, according to you.

“In my considered opinion, supporting the Congress party in any of its incarnation is an act of treason, if not an act of senseless ignorance”.

Treason, Mr. Dey? You consider voting for a political party millions of Indians vote for an act of treason? It is not called treason, it’s called democracy. Get used to it. Maybe you are a closet American Evangelical or an LeT member, Mr. Dey, in Hindutva disguise. Or maybe a Blackshirt or a Brownshirt, remember them? They all liked the T word a lot. We all know how that ended. And that’s precisely what people like me worry about the most. And that’s why we are willing to risk voting for relative ineptness than intolerant closet fundamentalism. Because much as we would like to vote for an alternative to the Congress, we won’t when that alternative is so frightening, especially for a woman like me.

But maybe you don’t quite understand that. Because you don’t vote in India! Wow.

Though you imply that perhaps some other places are good enough for you to vote.

Come back with something better next time, if you want to convince millions of committed, pragmatic, centrists like me. We vote, you see, unlike you.“

How I wish Itoo  received such well-considered comments! :p

About college fests and fairy-tales

 

Two very interesting, and rather, unexpected finds this past week brought fond memories flooding back. I had been doing a sort-and-clear operation, both literally and figuratively – clearing my home and my mind of unwanted rubbish from the past, when I chanced across the afore-mentioned two things.

The first is a birthday gift from mommy, given to me some 10 years back, I think. As a gift, its absolutely the most unique I have ever received, but what really touched me about it was the thoughtfulness behind it – this is a personalized book dedicated only to me, and relates the story of Cinderella with a modern twist – she has me to help her win over Prince Charming! So, yay, I actually play myself in this story, helping Cinderella cope with her evil step-mother and step-sisters – and trust me, it can be such an awesome thrill knowing you are now immortal in fiction!

 

 

 

The second is an article I had written long, long back – when I was still in law college. I was then interning with a legal portal and decided to de-ride in full public view my college’s shoddy attempts at creating a Malhar-esque annual festival. While the article in itself is quite bitchy, it brings back some nice memories of law college, as well as my first job, thus qualifying it for a mention here. Excerpts from the article posted below:

 

“Let’s talk about college festivals. In fact, let’s talk about one particular college festival: ‘Just-ice’, the annual inter-collegiate festival hosted by Rizvi Law College (and I had nothing to do with the name of the fest; I lack the audacity to use such a terrible pun and pass it off as a law fest). But the name is only an indicator of worse things that are to come… like the horrendous event list that has been drawn up. It seems that my college has made the fest, in an attempt to make it live up to its name, an all-inclusive affair. So, not only do we have the requisite moot courts and debates, but we also have Rangoli, Mehndi, and Art competitions thrown in for good measure. I don’t know if it’s  just my imagination (I hope it is), but I think we also have a hair-styling event scheduled.

Now, you must not get me wrong. I love my college; it’s a good place to be. But sometimes, we seem to lose our hold on reality. One sheet of paper, among the many we have produced to promote the event, proclaims that the fest had invited an ‘overwhelming response’ from more than 40 colleges in Mumbai last year. But then, I guess a response from ‘Chiplunbhai Sahakarbhai College of Arts’ (now this is my imagination at work) might be a reason for my college to go ‘yay’.

My message is simple. A law college is a law college is a law college and there is no thing like a ‘cool (read, popular) law fest’. Law college is not a ‘happening’ place. So, an attempt to fashion a ‘cool’ festival is doomed right from its inception. It might have been a good idea to restrict the event only to the law colleges in Mumbai, but then, it’s safer working with 50 Chiplunkars, than say, a GLC or KC. It might have been a good idea to incorporate better events. Creativity isn’t restricted to Rangolis and Mehndis alone. It might have been a good idea to have let me in on the naming ceremony. I still have good suggestions. How about “N justice for all”?  It would make us look good in front of all the Rock-fans, and that’s what every college kid, who is worth his pair of stinking socks, is.

I still maintain I have nothing against my college, or against any of my friends who are happily organising the fest. But I fail to see what the fest is trying to prove. Why do something for the sheer heck of it? I might have thought that we need the publicity, but in this one case, no publicity is much, much better than any publicity. I don’t intend to attend the festival. And I am definitely not gonna be there to cheer my classmates as they try to do the ‘Macarena’ at our ’social’.“

Schneidi Superstar

Now, anyone who’s interacted with the Mani clan (mom’s side of the family) will tell you that we aren’t the modest types. A combination of circumstances – genuine achievement, a high sense of self-worth, and optimism of the ‘king-of-the-world!’ kind – has ensured that our family always has a good tale or two to share about the wonderful things we always seem upto. So this post shouldn’t really come as a surprise. But, to hand it to me, I don’t ever deliver praise just for the heck of it – it takes a really, really good thing for me to go out of my way to promote it. And it’s a really, really good thing that got me blogging here today.

So Sunday was grandma’s b’day (1 March). As is tradition on such days, most of the family had come over to my home to celebrate. And it was at this gathering that my 14-yr-old cousin, Schneider performed this amazing song that he had composed. Schneider’s been learning to play the guitar for the past couple of years – he also plays the casio (or ‘organ’, as he insists that it be called). He also has this school band thing going – a bunch of 9th-graders who have been jamming together for a while. Anyway, back to the song – the lyrics were written by a friend of his (will get details of the friend too, and post it soon) – and they were put to tune by Schenidi. 

And genuinely, and not just because I happen to be his elder sister, I thought the song totally rocked! It was this nice, slow love song – very reminescent of ‘Boyzone’ kinda music – and had a very catchy, hum-able tune that stayed in your head long after you listened to it. I was simply zapped – it was a good tune coming out of a 14-yr-old – and I like to think I am someone who can identify good music right away, long before it catches on with the rest of the masses.

I have put up the song on ‘private mode’ on Youtube – didn’t want to make it too public just yet. But you can always listen to it right here on my blog. And if you enjoyed the song as much as I did, or if you have any pointers that can help him improve, please to post them as comments on my blog. I will pass them on to Schneidi without fail.

Enjoy!