Why Am I?

Why Am I? Being driven by my surroundings and complaining about the same. I am not taking charge of my life, my desires, my aspirations; I am being directed by my surroundings, reacting, time and again to situations/events/happenings all around me. I am playing the game, the rules of which are being set by someone else. I am one of the herd: a herd out on a mad rush.

Why Am I? Littering the streets and complaining about all pervasive filth. Why do I crib about the results of my doing and of those of my ilk? What makes me think that it is OK for me to litter but not so for the others. What is so special about me that renders me damn well above board.

Why Am I? Seeking perpetual attention and confirmation of my being. Why do I have to get a nod of approval from those around me - to feel alive, to feel wanted, to feel myself. I am conferring the power of my BEING, the authority of justifying my ‘Self’/my ‘Existence’ to someone else, someone that either has no clue about who or what I am or one that doesn’t care; worse still, one who is neither aware nor gives a damn.

Why am I? Defining my sense of being by my “achievements” and “success”. Who defines success for me? Is it me or someone else? Should I even be bothered about my ‘relative’ well-being amongst my peers: measuring myself against my lot with the kind of car that I drive, the size of the house that I live in, the clubs that I attend or the quantum of frequent flyer miles I have accumulated?

Why Am I? Losing myself to the crowd. Losing the larger picture of LIFE; pushing myself on the road when 20 years hence I would like to undo whatever I am doing right now, yearning for a fresh start when I could make one, right now. Who would set the parameters for my happiness if not me?

Digital Matrimonial

A girl’s search for Mr. Right: Reproducing a blog by a Mumbai gal out on the ‘digital hunt’ for just the right guy

At the onset itself, let me make it clear, the search for Mr. Right can be an experience, which is anything from neurotic to exceptionally funny! Of course all that, depends upon your way of taking things. I usually just laugh at them.

Okay, so the story begins in Mumbai the land of opportunities, on my 23rd birthday, which was incidentally just six months ago. “Beta, I think, now we should start looking for a bridegroom for you.” My grandmother said, and like I have been since the age of 20, I laughed expecting my parents to join in. But this time they didn’t. Apparently my days were numbered and soon I would have to get married and start a new life, or so I am lead to believe! Anyways, my dear parents tell me that they have no issues if I find myself a better half, black or white, ugly or good-looking, as long as he is well-educated and male!

"We have no issues if you find a guy for yourself,” they said. And since the Big Bazaar sale didn’t exactly have bridegrooms “sabse sasta” (can you image the rush there would have been if that was the case?) I really have no idea how to find myself a groom! And hence I agreed to the age-old regime of chai and kanda poha, basically the arranged marriage funda!

Number 1: Cut to Pune. We enter this posh locality in the city and I am told the guy is an engineer and has a roaring business of his own. How roaring, we soon found out as we parked our car outside a majestic bungalow! As we entered the house, with expensive looking artifacts, my mother’s eyes twinkled mischievously as if sending in a silent message “So far so good”. A pleasant looking lady with a welcoming face greeted us. Well the lady (prospective ma-in-law) seemed really nice, friendly and talkative, but the prospective-groom was nowhere to be seen. Suddenly, a grave looking, expressionless guy (he actually looked like President George Bush when he heard about the Twin Tower news) walked into the room. He said a curt “hello” and sat down. No smile!!!!!!! That’s it the decision was made. A guy who didn’t know how to smile was definitely not my type, no matter how much his business really roared. After spending what seemed like an interminable half an hour in the grave man’s company, I ran for my life.

That should have put me off the whole process, but not really! “Shaadi karni hai na? To yeah sub to karna padega!” my mother summoned, and I began questioning myself, do I really want to get married? So after a few weeks, another one of those interminable sessions approached. I tapped on my sense of humor and set of for yet another encounter!

Number 2: Well, this story was just plain boring. The guy was a hotshot MBA with a big fat pay cheque but unbelievably dull. He just couldn’t stop talking about how Indian economy was going down the drain (Duh I think he wasn’t even talking about India in this century, for as per our budget, Indian economy is going at it man!) Anyways…after learning that I could actually sleep while keeping my eyes open, I got the hell out of there and ever since tried keeping my distance.

And since then, tall guys with short surnames, short guys with long surnames, thin guys with fat pay cheques, fat guys with thin pay cheques…I have read all their profiles and decided against meeting most of them!

Ironically enough not one seemed interesting enough! None clicked! It’s early days still of course, and my cousin tells me that Abhi abhi to shuruwat hui hai…but every now and then, I go through sessions of self pity, when I wonder where are all the interesting guys? Looks really don’t matter to me…it’s been kinda my track record, that even my crushes weren’t the best of lookers…looks don’t attract me. Intelligence and wit, now that does! Often enough while browsing through the matrimonial profiles my parents shortlist, my mind wanders to days when as a kid I imagined a romantic liaison turning into marriage. Not once did I see myself sitting in front of a computer short-listing my prospective life partner! Oh dear, life sure isn’t always fair is it? :)

P.S: This is a reproduction of a blog, the link has been mentioned below:

http://o3.indiatimes.com/uptowngirl/archive/2006/03/01/507909.aspx

Govt. of Bihar

======================================================
DRIVING LICENSE APPLIKASON PHOROM
------------------------------------------ -----------------------

NOTE: Please do not soot the person at the applikason kounter. He will give you the licen. For phurthar instructions, see bottom applikason.

1. Last name:
(_) Yadav (_) Sinha (_) Pandey (_) Misra (_) Dot No
(Check karet box)

2. First name:
(_) Ramprasad (_) Lakhan (_) Sivprasad (_) Jamnaprasad (_) Dot no
(Check karet box)

3. Age:
(_) Less than phipty (_) Greater than phipty (_) Dot no
(Check karet box)

4. Sex: ____ M _____ P(F) _____ not sure _____Will ask netaji and kom baak

5. Chappal Size: ____ Lepht ____ Right

6. Okkupason:
(_) Politison (_) Doodhwala (_) Pehelwaan (_) House wife (_) Un-employed
(Check karet box)

7. Number of children libing in the household: ___

8. Number that are yours: ___

9. Mather name: _______________________

10. Phather Name: ____________________ (If not no, leave blank)

11. Ejjucason: 1 2 3 4 (Circle highest grade completed)

12. Dental rekard:

(_) Ellow (_) Berownish-ellow (_) Berown (_) Belack (_) Other -__________
Give egjhakt color

(Check karet box)

13. Your thumb imparesson

____________________________
(If you are copying from another applikason pharom, please do not copy thumb imparesson also. Please provide your own thumb imparesson.)

PELEASE DO NOT USE PHINGERS OF YOUR LEGS

Use thumb on your lepht hand only. If you dont have lepht hand, use your thumb on right hand. If you do not have right hand, use thumb on lepht hand.

NOTE: IF YOU DONT HAVE BOTH HANDS, YOU CANNOT DRIVE.
WE ARE VAERY ISTRICT ABOUT THIS

Bihar RTO

P.S: Do Not Mean to make fun of any community/caste/creed.... All in good humour !!!! :)

I wait for you
15-10-2002 1:13 A.M, Herziliya, Israel

Like the parched land, thirsting
Awaiting the first shower
I wait for you

Like the raindrop
Shackled in the cloud waiting to break free
I wait for you

Like the sunflower
Reaching out, straining for a ray of the sun
I wait for you

Like the rainbow
Waiting to peer through the dark skies
I wait for you

I have waited for you; For as long as memory goes
It was the moment of truth; when I saw you ...
It was the silver, lining the clouds
when you smiled

I Walk through a maze -- lost, confounded
Enveloped by a strange numbness
Devoid of emotion, beyond feeling
Like a canvas waiting to be filled
In the colors of life ...

I thirst for love, as I reminisce
What would life be, without you …
I wait for you.

Passion
07-04-2002 1:13 A.M, Curium Beach, Cyprus

Beneath the blanket of stars, wet sand in my feet 
The sound of the sea -- crashing in my ears 
The passion, the frenzy; of longing embrace 

The waves rushing to meet the shore,
               I see love unbridled like never before….

The wait is over -- the lovers meet 
With no one as witness; Save the stars and the breeze..
And walking alongside; My solitude and me  

My dream lies shattered -- the mirage disappears
Mocked by the moon and driven to tears,
               I open my eyes and feel you near ….

You hold my hands and touch my face 
Of all the pain I felt within, there’s not a single trace.
 
You still do it to me -- After all these years,
Put a smile on my lips, Calm my fears….. 

As I lie down drenched, lost in your thoughts 
You rush into my arms, along with the waves...
Engulf me with so much love, wash away the pain . 

Images flash in my eyes; Of many years past -- the cool summer rain,
The moment I saw you there, I knew I'd never,
Ever be the same again.

The Tragic Indian Middle Class

Caught in a time warp with winds of change swirling around

The “Great Indian Middle Class”, a feel-good moniker really for the “tragic Indian middle class” has finally found something to feel good about itself. This poor (pun unintended) class of people who aspire for “page 3” or “noveau riche” status but have to make do with battered public transport, the tax burden and window shopping each day of their lives, have found their voice. Or so it seems. Two incidents which occurred in the recent past have seemed to lend credence to the theory that the middle classes are here to be heard. President Bush’s reference to them (albeit in passing) and their successful SMS petition through NDTV (who counts them as their ‘target audience’) to the President of India (reg. the miscarriage of justice in the Jessica Lal murder trail).

So what is it that has triggered the middle classes out of their lethargy? Sudden realization of the bad state of affairs all around and the desire to change things, through SMS’ at least to start with. Or is there something else to it.

As far as President Bush was concerned, I’m sure he was talking to shampoo, cold drink, burger, and toothpaste and shaving cream consumers – needs that American companies would look to fulfill. Apart from zillions of other things American of course in including accents, fake, acquired or painstakingly cultivated.

But as far as the Jessica case is concerned, is there another dimension to it? Of course there were others (Priyadarshini Mattoo comes to mind) before her who met an equally tragic and gruesome end but these people shrugged their shoulders and moved on. Jessica was photogenic. She was part of the ‘page 3 crowd’. She wasn’t one of us – the middle classes. She belonged to a class which we sneered upon publicly but wanted to be a part of. Then, when pictures of her family were splashed across television screens – the haggard old father beaten down by the weight of a 7 year old struggle for justice, very much middle class in appearance; the mother whose time ran out on her and she bid goodbye before she could be a party to this ‘freak show’; the despondent sister, not matching her sibling in glamour and very much a ‘nice middle class girl’ – the middle classes realized that injustice had been perpetrated on them by one that they loathe but secretly still want to be – the jet set, the Bina Ramanis, the Shayan Munshis et al. It became an “us vs. them” and the power of the cellphone prevailed (aided of course by breathless and frantic anchors on English news channels catering to those who have mastered or pretend to have mastered the language thus justifying their status). It is a peculiar set of people.

This peculiar class of people –

1) Which seldom votes but complains about the pathetic state of affairs of the country’s body politic

2) Which spits on the streets; Seeks out freshly painted walls and clean lifts to leave a beetle or pan-masala-stained mark of their presence and yet complains about filth on the streets

3) Which pushes a 50 rupee note @ the traffic constable upon being caught in the act of a traffic violation and cries foul when a politician is caught accepting a bribe

4) Which ogles at every woman with hungry eyes while letting his fertile imagination run wild and bays for the blood of a film star caught with his pants down

5) Which love talking about morals and ideals and flouts them at the first opportunity

6) Which resents being treated in a patronizing manner by the privileged class but does the same nonetheless to those less privileged; regularly trampling upon the self-esteem of the chaukidaars (security guards), the office boys/peons, the drivers and the kaamwaali bais (household help)

Much to say the middle classes are ‘India personified’. We have always been “like that only”. We needlessly have taken the “moral high ground” at the expense of our common sense, reasoning and logic. We have always looked upon ourselves as leaders (NAM, SAARC, Leader of the third world … blah-de-blah) while ignoring the filth, the famine, the floods, the poverty which continually ravage our country. Much to our chagrin and discomfort our purported followers never looked upon us as leaders because we have as many if not any lesser no of people scraping out a wretched existence.

But now that India is basking in new found confidence I hope the middle classes too will shed their baggage; they will not be the insecure lot that they have been; that they will demand their right and do their due; that they will take things as they come, confident in their own abilities and being comfortable in their skins – not looking for a scapegoat to heap their frustrations on.

The winds of change are all around. I just wait for the day when people would stand up and say “it begins at home”.

Neo Liberal Rabble Rousers

This past week, the US president, George W. Bush’s visit to the subcontinent led to tumultuous events. While Laura went about visiting the sets of a cartoon movie-in-the-making and George tip-toed from clinching the nuclear deal to admiring buffaloes, there were protests on the streets led by the communists and the Muslims. The Muslims were protesting against the affront to their religion while the communists were protesting against ????????????? well! they were just protesting; its their job.

To some extent the anger demonstrated by India’s largest minority was understandable. They were protesting against the GWB who had invaded Afghanistan, Iraq and was now threatening to train his guns on Iran. He is deemed as an enemy of ‘Islam’. Surprising though that these people were also attributing the cartoon controversy to GWB. You could blame Bush for all of the above, for being the gunslinger and invading Muslim lands, for being a sympathizer of Israel but the cartoon controversy was a “European”, specifically a Danish phenomenon.

No one has the right to make a mockery of someone’s religious beliefs in the name of “freedom of speech”. Similarly no one has the right to impose the will of any particular sect on another in a secular, democratic country. The role of the “neo liberal rabble rousers” needs to be examined in this context.

“Saleibrities” (oh! Thatz NOT a spelling error) like Ms. Arundhati Roy and her ilk take to the streets every now and then for every conceivable, doctored or manufactured “liberal” issue. We Indians must know what is in our national interest. We could make our displeasure of Bush’s policies known. We should also remember the fact that this man was invited by the Government of India. No matter how much we detest it, we would be wise to remember that this is a UNIPOLAR world. Do we like it that way? Hell, NO but it remains a fact nonetheless.

There are stark realities staring us in our face:

1) We are sandwiched between hostile nuclear states (China and Pakistan)

2) We have border disputes with both of them

3) Both of them are proliferaters of WMDs and Nuclear Technology

4) We share thousands of kms of open borders with states which are fostering terrorism in our country (read Bangladesh, Bhutan, Pakistan)

5) We have a tiny neighbor racked by communism and where the mafia/underworld and the ISI have made significant inroads (read Nepal)

6) We do not have to AGREE with everything the US of A dictates but we do not have to DISAGREE with everything either. Let us pick whatever is in our interest and discard the rest.

7) The largest and most advanced country, technologically and economically, wants to be friends with us for its own national interests. We need to find out what our national interests are and meet at a common place.

Finally, I cannot agree with the forcible shutting of shops, rioting, looting or engaging in violence. These are despicable acts and need to be condemned. There are much better ways to protest as a large majority of protesters have shown. And by the way, the UP minister who issued a fatwa against the Danish cartoonist is SICK and DUMB at the same time.

Which brings us to the point: The Islamists have a reason to protest after all. What about the “habitual protesters”: The communists? The statements coming from some “commie” quarters read as if they are more concerned about China than India. At one of the conventions, one of their very knowledgeable leaders said “This deal is harmful for China” … sic.

I was also shocked to learn that the great “commie” leader EMS Namboodripad thought China’s aggression in 1965 was legitimate. Well it might have been for all you know, but Mr. EMSN I tend to disagree. Why? Call me a nationalist or an emotional fool.

P.S: Ms. Arundhati Roy, why don’t you write another book since you have so much time. BTW, thatz much more profitable you see .. or is it that the ideas are just not clicking…. Take to the hills … Nepal, shall I suggest or Chittagong, Bangadesh.