Citizen Cognizance
In today’s troubled times, the air is rife with mixed emotions of fear, hope, anger, frustration, helplessness, loss of faith and skepticism. As the noted industrialist, Srichand Hinduja pointed out recently; maybe it all happened for the larger good of world society. Indians were not the only ones killed in the attacks. Some visitors from the rest of the world also lost their lives and some more were very grievously injured. All those who survived and went through the trauma in the line of fire will carry the nightmarish experience all their lives.
The corrupt politicians always will continue to harbor their vested interests, the media will tend to be crass, the blame games will continue but at the top of it all, the emergence of a world code to snuff out terrorism is vital. To my mind, this emerges from the average person on the street.
As Citizens of India and the world at large, we need to be Cognizant.
The global society indeed did wake up for the first time to the carnage at Mumbai albeit it was ravaged with mindless acts in the past. This time around the difference was that the enemy was there to see as the acts of terror were unleashed on innocence.
India was plundered and pillaged many times so in a way, the rape of our nation has been a continual occurrence. But in a more stoic sense, we hid the scars and moved on without a whimper. But not anymore!
Every Indian should take it upon themselves to watch their back. The average person on the street should be more aware of their responsibilities towards the larger interests of society. We should stop disrespecting ourselves by making sure we adhere to the rules of the land. So hopefully, we will witness a lot less lawlessness on the streets. Fewer traffic lights being jumped, lesser road rage, better civic sensibilities, etc. A lot of self tuning will need to be done by each of us. Indians are proud people but somehow, the pride gets buried in diversity.
We need to be…
~ Cognizant of our Responsibilities towards our Society (and not just for ourselves),
~ Cognizant of the Reality of the Threat(s),
~ Cognizant of the Gravity of the Resolve we make as People of India,
~ Cognizant of the fact that Nothing is to be Ever Forgotten,
~ Cognizant of having the Grit to Give it Back,
~ Cognizant of Safeguarding ourselves,
~ Cognizant of Civil Citizenship.
The mayhem that unfolded across 10 odd locations in Mumbai and on India that fateful Wednesday night will remain etched in the minds of all of us.
Let’s remain Cognizant!
Jai Hind!
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Friday, December 5, 2008
India Irked! [Part II]
India Irked!
Political Pandemonium
In parallel to the Media irrationality, the Politicians of the world’s largest democracy proved yet again that there can be no ilk like theirs anywhere else in the universe, leave alone the planet.
Their time-tested modus operandi invariably adds to the confusion at Ground Zero and they just don’t realize what they are up to. They paraded themselves only to be chided and hated for their insensitivity to reality, for their audacity to disrupt the proceeds (as the already spent security force is stretched thanks to them in the hour of crises) and for their incompetence to work together to prevent the continual violation of India in recent months.
We were born in a free society and we always took our freedom and peace for granted. And so should it be! But with each passing month with incidents related to terror and with each passing day with incidents relating to lawlessness and crime, no longer am I inclined to believe that our children will grow up in a safe society unless something drastically effective in set in place. Our internal law and order situation is a squalid reality while the external perpetrators continue to sharpen their knives and point their guns at us compounding the security situation. Who is responsible for the gradual erosion of the organized society? The Political Establishment which through the years ensured that India will remain divided on the issues of caste, sect, religion, etc without any remorse at all. Instead, we much rather have the Political Establishment work towards making India a nation that the world will want to live in. On one hand, we send an unmanned mission to the Moon and on the other hand, we can’t even protect the borders of one of India’s largest cities. What a shame!
I remember my childhood and teenage years as a period of carefree fun and frolic. My parents were never worried if I didn’t return home after play till the late hours of the evening. And those were the times when we had only Doordarshan for entertainment, landlines were not part of most middle class homes and mobile phones were unthinkable. Yet the friendliness and warmth of the society in those years (‘70s & ‘80s) makes us wonder if we would have been better off at status quo than not having taken off post liberalization. As a parent today, I know life can never be that way ever!
The son of the CEO of a multinational company gets abducted in broad daylight, a media professional gets shot on her way back from home, tourists are molested on the pristine beaches of Goa, a retired army general gets car jacked on his way back from a party… the list is endless.
In these times of global terror, we are increasingly being perceived as a soft target for our over-resilient, overtly tolerant approach to dealing with the forces of disruption. We need better rules, we need more order than chaos and more stringent laws that are enforced without exception. We really don’t care how it is done as long as it is done. We do not want to be the prey on another occasion to mindless savages who believe in salvation through barbaric inhuman acts.
Any self-respecting individual owns up to his/ her mistake when pointed out. But these leaders of society are so immune to the expectations of the citizens of India that they keep proving it to us time and again they simple don’t get it! Every politician should be made accountable for the charter they are responsible for. Ideally there should be a review mechanism (just like the corporate world works on numbers), so that they can be made more accountable for the initiatives that they lead.
What we witnessed in Bombay was the unsolicited carnage of innocent lives and the complete annihilation of our faith in our National Leadership. The Media is still having a field day tossing up the Politicians in a slug fest on issues relating to National Security and the ‘Whodunnit’ factor. They continue to mock themselves and the politicians with needless verbal aggression and reckless finger pointing.
India needs to shake itself off these elements that are pulling it down. India needs to develop a code of conduct to enable us to function cohesively as a progressive nation. We should set aside our differences and should work to reawaken our collective will to fight back. We are down but are not out and we will never be so.
Political Pandemonium
In parallel to the Media irrationality, the Politicians of the world’s largest democracy proved yet again that there can be no ilk like theirs anywhere else in the universe, leave alone the planet.
Their time-tested modus operandi invariably adds to the confusion at Ground Zero and they just don’t realize what they are up to. They paraded themselves only to be chided and hated for their insensitivity to reality, for their audacity to disrupt the proceeds (as the already spent security force is stretched thanks to them in the hour of crises) and for their incompetence to work together to prevent the continual violation of India in recent months.
We were born in a free society and we always took our freedom and peace for granted. And so should it be! But with each passing month with incidents related to terror and with each passing day with incidents relating to lawlessness and crime, no longer am I inclined to believe that our children will grow up in a safe society unless something drastically effective in set in place. Our internal law and order situation is a squalid reality while the external perpetrators continue to sharpen their knives and point their guns at us compounding the security situation. Who is responsible for the gradual erosion of the organized society? The Political Establishment which through the years ensured that India will remain divided on the issues of caste, sect, religion, etc without any remorse at all. Instead, we much rather have the Political Establishment work towards making India a nation that the world will want to live in. On one hand, we send an unmanned mission to the Moon and on the other hand, we can’t even protect the borders of one of India’s largest cities. What a shame!
I remember my childhood and teenage years as a period of carefree fun and frolic. My parents were never worried if I didn’t return home after play till the late hours of the evening. And those were the times when we had only Doordarshan for entertainment, landlines were not part of most middle class homes and mobile phones were unthinkable. Yet the friendliness and warmth of the society in those years (‘70s & ‘80s) makes us wonder if we would have been better off at status quo than not having taken off post liberalization. As a parent today, I know life can never be that way ever!
The son of the CEO of a multinational company gets abducted in broad daylight, a media professional gets shot on her way back from home, tourists are molested on the pristine beaches of Goa, a retired army general gets car jacked on his way back from a party… the list is endless.
In these times of global terror, we are increasingly being perceived as a soft target for our over-resilient, overtly tolerant approach to dealing with the forces of disruption. We need better rules, we need more order than chaos and more stringent laws that are enforced without exception. We really don’t care how it is done as long as it is done. We do not want to be the prey on another occasion to mindless savages who believe in salvation through barbaric inhuman acts.
Any self-respecting individual owns up to his/ her mistake when pointed out. But these leaders of society are so immune to the expectations of the citizens of India that they keep proving it to us time and again they simple don’t get it! Every politician should be made accountable for the charter they are responsible for. Ideally there should be a review mechanism (just like the corporate world works on numbers), so that they can be made more accountable for the initiatives that they lead.
What we witnessed in Bombay was the unsolicited carnage of innocent lives and the complete annihilation of our faith in our National Leadership. The Media is still having a field day tossing up the Politicians in a slug fest on issues relating to National Security and the ‘Whodunnit’ factor. They continue to mock themselves and the politicians with needless verbal aggression and reckless finger pointing.
India needs to shake itself off these elements that are pulling it down. India needs to develop a code of conduct to enable us to function cohesively as a progressive nation. We should set aside our differences and should work to reawaken our collective will to fight back. We are down but are not out and we will never be so.
India Irked! [Part I]
It has been nearly 10 days since the bedlam of terror hit our shores in a manner which stirred up a nation. We have been cowed down by a bunch of heartless individuals who in their insane judgment dreamed of disrupting the collective conscience of India. Yes, we are a scared society today and India is irked beyond measure.
Media Mayhem
While India bled in Bombay, the Media channels portrayed the 60-hour siege of Bombay as a real time movie which was broadcast into millions of homes across the world. And what a sham it was. While the heart bled and the eyes wept, the mind was raging with anger, disgust, dismay, disbelief, shock and hopelessness, all leading to a crescendo of emotional and apolitical outrage.
What started as ‘Breaking News’ ended up being a ‘Broken Affair’ with the very aspect of freedom that we were so proud of. The Free Press made a mockery of the very art of reporting. Top anchors with a pedigree of many awards inadvertently made us realize how crass insensitivities towards those affected, the lame verbiage that mocked at the anguish of the pain we were feeling as a nation, the inept attempts to rationalize, further deprecated the well intended reporting motives of the media.
It was an asinine race to be the ‘first to report’ and to have an ‘exclusive’. Frankly, I don’t think any Indian really cared about these trivialities. The media got their TRPs soaring but they ended up denigrating themselves and fell over each other to bring us the latest. Being professionals, didn’t they have the basic sense to refrain from beaming live pictures when the forces were fighting a faceless enemy within the corridors of the star hotels and people died earlier on the streets and railway platforms. What is ironic is that they actually reported that ‘they have been asked’ by the NSG to stop the live telecast as suddenly someone realized a ‘little too early’ that the media shouldn’t have been doing this in the very first place. Initial kudos turned into chaos. In the midst of all this relentless ‘me-first’ reporting, the media leapfrogged itself into ignominy.
The Media should be slammed for their insensitivity and over-sensationalism. They are for sure the masters of speculation and the stalwart anchors pitiably try hard to pin their guests down in a manner that is quite irascible. They are short on patience, don’t let people finish their points of view (I know they have to keep an eye on the clock) and are quite judgmental to the extent that they feel like the makers of ‘what is supposed to be done’.
Not once during the three days, did I see any of the leading channels talk about the fact that terror was unleashed on a nation and that India was under siege albeit at Bombay. The headlines screamed breaking news on ‘War on Mumbai’, ‘Mumbai Attacked’, ‘Maximum City under Siege’ etc. Should we be telling the custodians of free speech aka the Media that the nation comes first and everything else follows.
India was violated yet again. India was ripped apart once more. India was targeted. And the jealous neighbor is zealously involved!
Even after the perpetrators were snuffed out, the media went on about how Bombay has been crippled yet again and about how this city known for its ability to bounce back with to do so with elan. The thought of India was nowhere to be heard or seen while the anchors took turns lambasting everybody in their tired stupor to make an impression. And on whom?
Then, at the Taj minutes after the siege ended, there was more ineptness on display garbed in a cloak of impalpable disbelief. Barkha Dutt in her hoarse, anguished voice (which I am praying in retrospect that it was not put on), asks a fireman at the sea facing corner of the beleaguered Taj soon after the perpetrators were vanquished, “Please, please say something.” The fireman tries in vain to walk away while saying ‘No’ to her request. Ms Dutt has her way and points to the 1st floor and asks him about the fabric rope made out of bedsheets which is tied to the window – “Is this the way the trapped guests escaped?’ Obviously, the fireman nodded in agreement and then came the shocker of the century. Ms Dutt reported, “So this the way the fire department helped the guests get out of the Taj.” I am sure the fireman and his department folks would have cringed with utmost disrespect Ms Dutt for her intelligent inference.
For God’s sake, the very purpose of the Free Press is to give a voice to the common man, the average person of society and NOT put words in his mouth. They are meant to mediate and moderate, not to intervene and irritate. They are meant to make the unheard heard, the unseen seen, the unspoken spoken and not to desecrate the very spirit of the freedom of expression. They need to realize that they have a far greater responsibility than what they currently seem to fathom – towards the society, towards the nation and towards themselves as well.
As we bled, India invoked the resolve to fight back.
Media Mayhem
While India bled in Bombay, the Media channels portrayed the 60-hour siege of Bombay as a real time movie which was broadcast into millions of homes across the world. And what a sham it was. While the heart bled and the eyes wept, the mind was raging with anger, disgust, dismay, disbelief, shock and hopelessness, all leading to a crescendo of emotional and apolitical outrage.
What started as ‘Breaking News’ ended up being a ‘Broken Affair’ with the very aspect of freedom that we were so proud of. The Free Press made a mockery of the very art of reporting. Top anchors with a pedigree of many awards inadvertently made us realize how crass insensitivities towards those affected, the lame verbiage that mocked at the anguish of the pain we were feeling as a nation, the inept attempts to rationalize, further deprecated the well intended reporting motives of the media.
It was an asinine race to be the ‘first to report’ and to have an ‘exclusive’. Frankly, I don’t think any Indian really cared about these trivialities. The media got their TRPs soaring but they ended up denigrating themselves and fell over each other to bring us the latest. Being professionals, didn’t they have the basic sense to refrain from beaming live pictures when the forces were fighting a faceless enemy within the corridors of the star hotels and people died earlier on the streets and railway platforms. What is ironic is that they actually reported that ‘they have been asked’ by the NSG to stop the live telecast as suddenly someone realized a ‘little too early’ that the media shouldn’t have been doing this in the very first place. Initial kudos turned into chaos. In the midst of all this relentless ‘me-first’ reporting, the media leapfrogged itself into ignominy.
The Media should be slammed for their insensitivity and over-sensationalism. They are for sure the masters of speculation and the stalwart anchors pitiably try hard to pin their guests down in a manner that is quite irascible. They are short on patience, don’t let people finish their points of view (I know they have to keep an eye on the clock) and are quite judgmental to the extent that they feel like the makers of ‘what is supposed to be done’.
Not once during the three days, did I see any of the leading channels talk about the fact that terror was unleashed on a nation and that India was under siege albeit at Bombay. The headlines screamed breaking news on ‘War on Mumbai’, ‘Mumbai Attacked’, ‘Maximum City under Siege’ etc. Should we be telling the custodians of free speech aka the Media that the nation comes first and everything else follows.
India was violated yet again. India was ripped apart once more. India was targeted. And the jealous neighbor is zealously involved!
Even after the perpetrators were snuffed out, the media went on about how Bombay has been crippled yet again and about how this city known for its ability to bounce back with to do so with elan. The thought of India was nowhere to be heard or seen while the anchors took turns lambasting everybody in their tired stupor to make an impression. And on whom?
Then, at the Taj minutes after the siege ended, there was more ineptness on display garbed in a cloak of impalpable disbelief. Barkha Dutt in her hoarse, anguished voice (which I am praying in retrospect that it was not put on), asks a fireman at the sea facing corner of the beleaguered Taj soon after the perpetrators were vanquished, “Please, please say something.” The fireman tries in vain to walk away while saying ‘No’ to her request. Ms Dutt has her way and points to the 1st floor and asks him about the fabric rope made out of bedsheets which is tied to the window – “Is this the way the trapped guests escaped?’ Obviously, the fireman nodded in agreement and then came the shocker of the century. Ms Dutt reported, “So this the way the fire department helped the guests get out of the Taj.” I am sure the fireman and his department folks would have cringed with utmost disrespect Ms Dutt for her intelligent inference.
For God’s sake, the very purpose of the Free Press is to give a voice to the common man, the average person of society and NOT put words in his mouth. They are meant to mediate and moderate, not to intervene and irritate. They are meant to make the unheard heard, the unseen seen, the unspoken spoken and not to desecrate the very spirit of the freedom of expression. They need to realize that they have a far greater responsibility than what they currently seem to fathom – towards the society, towards the nation and towards themselves as well.
As we bled, India invoked the resolve to fight back.
Thursday, October 30, 2008
Those Little Feet...
The sound of the rain woke him up and his feet walked him out to embrace it. His skin glowed with the touch of every raindrop and the smell of the earth made him smile. He had to get out and drench himself silly in every watery descent of the clouds above. Nature was his first love and this was one of his ways to live.
His heart rejoiced at the sight of his daughter. Her laughter was his lullaby. Her presence was his prayer answered. Her dimples were his eye candies. Her hugs and kisses were his peace. He loved his coffee and enjoyed his untimely forty winks on the couch. Simple things made him happy. The child in him was always alive even in times of adversity and strife. He smiled his way into people's hearts and his eyes sought love, friendship and happiness in every aspect of his daily routine. The earth was his playground and he loved his world.
He was a genius with an unmatched memory, an avid reader who doubled up as his journalist/ novelist wife's best critic, a spiritual wanderer who knew where God resided, and a connoisseur of many fields - literature, sculpture, history, geography, mathematics, and astronomy, among others.
His little feet carried him through many a grueling grind, to the most magnificent of ancient architectural masterpieces, to the banks of almost every Indian river, to the depths of the thickest forests, to the homes of his countless friends and finally to the stairs of heaven.
He redefined simplicity. He was always there for anyone who needed him. He ensured he visited everyone he knew in every neighborhood that he passed through. He would do anything to make others happy. And along his adventurous and arduous journey, he unwittingly ensured that there could never be another of his kind. He gave me wings and the will to dream. He is always around and his little feet's number is the best track I'd ever hear.
Take care, Dad. May the Gods be kind on your soul.
His heart rejoiced at the sight of his daughter. Her laughter was his lullaby. Her presence was his prayer answered. Her dimples were his eye candies. Her hugs and kisses were his peace. He loved his coffee and enjoyed his untimely forty winks on the couch. Simple things made him happy. The child in him was always alive even in times of adversity and strife. He smiled his way into people's hearts and his eyes sought love, friendship and happiness in every aspect of his daily routine. The earth was his playground and he loved his world.
He was a genius with an unmatched memory, an avid reader who doubled up as his journalist/ novelist wife's best critic, a spiritual wanderer who knew where God resided, and a connoisseur of many fields - literature, sculpture, history, geography, mathematics, and astronomy, among others.
His little feet carried him through many a grueling grind, to the most magnificent of ancient architectural masterpieces, to the banks of almost every Indian river, to the depths of the thickest forests, to the homes of his countless friends and finally to the stairs of heaven.
He redefined simplicity. He was always there for anyone who needed him. He ensured he visited everyone he knew in every neighborhood that he passed through. He would do anything to make others happy. And along his adventurous and arduous journey, he unwittingly ensured that there could never be another of his kind. He gave me wings and the will to dream. He is always around and his little feet's number is the best track I'd ever hear.
Take care, Dad. May the Gods be kind on your soul.
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Mettle Class!
Most of us have been seemingly stunned by the developments in the global markets. These are tiring and trying times for each of us. The meltdown has led to some drastic steps taken by a few individuals while many more are a worried lot. In India, the game has just begun.
The likes of me have never invested in the stock markets and that by no measure means that we are insulated from the spin-offs of this global chaos. News reports talk of a slowdown in almost every sector. B-schools are a worried lot with most companies likely to stay away from campuses. IT firms have suddenly clamped down on their indirect costs and are taking extreme measures for cost control. Consolidation of the workforce is another hot issue of discussion these days in the murmury corners of offices across the board.
Working professionals in most industries are treading the line of caution and are literally playing it safe. This has augured well for some companies where the productivity levels have actually improved with people working harder to ensure they don't come under the scanner. Yes, there is a positive flipside to the chaos after all. If only the tenet of perseverance was an ever prevalent factor rather than the Excalibur of severance goading people to work harder.
Performance is something I have always retained at the top of the value chain. It is the ability to assess, analyze and adapt that works best for anyone who believes in the art of living. It is the inherent ability to introspect well enough to be able to tide over the rough waves of uncertainty. Asset balancing and spend management are a couple of terms that are high on one's evaluation list when it comes to tightening one's urge to splurge.
The middle class has paved way for the 'Mettle Class'. And we are the 'Mettle' Class. This creed of professionals has always been around in a state of dormancy. In fact, the middle class reeks of mettle. However, these times have evoked the latent caution triggers into motion. We are the ones who have worked hard to make the investment made in us (read 'education') make a difference to our lives and the society at large in some form. The average consumer spending in India shot through the roof over the past few years and the easy availability of credit only added to the surge. But the boom period also opened avenues of destruction in its own subtle way. Riding high on the mettle factor, almost everyone jumped on the 'acquire' bandwagon.
Acquire a house (why? Because you felt settled!), acquire the best gadgets (why? Because the guy next to you at work has it), acquire a swanky car (even if it meant that a smaller one would have still taken you through the next decade without offering a space crunch), acquire an accent (why? Because you wanted to be treated as the 'global' person)... The list is actually quite endless but I will draw a line here to get back to the mettle factor. There is nothing wrong with being in 'acquire' mode as long as it doesn't outrun your ability to keep pace with it.
The mettle factor is our trump card for sustenance, for survival and for glory. We need to nurture it to ensure that the future continues to be secure. Hail the Mettle Class!
The likes of me have never invested in the stock markets and that by no measure means that we are insulated from the spin-offs of this global chaos. News reports talk of a slowdown in almost every sector. B-schools are a worried lot with most companies likely to stay away from campuses. IT firms have suddenly clamped down on their indirect costs and are taking extreme measures for cost control. Consolidation of the workforce is another hot issue of discussion these days in the murmury corners of offices across the board.
Working professionals in most industries are treading the line of caution and are literally playing it safe. This has augured well for some companies where the productivity levels have actually improved with people working harder to ensure they don't come under the scanner. Yes, there is a positive flipside to the chaos after all. If only the tenet of perseverance was an ever prevalent factor rather than the Excalibur of severance goading people to work harder.
Performance is something I have always retained at the top of the value chain. It is the ability to assess, analyze and adapt that works best for anyone who believes in the art of living. It is the inherent ability to introspect well enough to be able to tide over the rough waves of uncertainty. Asset balancing and spend management are a couple of terms that are high on one's evaluation list when it comes to tightening one's urge to splurge.
The middle class has paved way for the 'Mettle Class'. And we are the 'Mettle' Class. This creed of professionals has always been around in a state of dormancy. In fact, the middle class reeks of mettle. However, these times have evoked the latent caution triggers into motion. We are the ones who have worked hard to make the investment made in us (read 'education') make a difference to our lives and the society at large in some form. The average consumer spending in India shot through the roof over the past few years and the easy availability of credit only added to the surge. But the boom period also opened avenues of destruction in its own subtle way. Riding high on the mettle factor, almost everyone jumped on the 'acquire' bandwagon.
Acquire a house (why? Because you felt settled!), acquire the best gadgets (why? Because the guy next to you at work has it), acquire a swanky car (even if it meant that a smaller one would have still taken you through the next decade without offering a space crunch), acquire an accent (why? Because you wanted to be treated as the 'global' person)... The list is actually quite endless but I will draw a line here to get back to the mettle factor. There is nothing wrong with being in 'acquire' mode as long as it doesn't outrun your ability to keep pace with it.
The mettle factor is our trump card for sustenance, for survival and for glory. We need to nurture it to ensure that the future continues to be secure. Hail the Mettle Class!
Monday, August 25, 2008
Drag... Flick!
If you are thinking it is something to do with Hockey, then just read on! I would rather replace the word 'drag' with a more globally accepted term for it has a different connotations but I will let that be for now. The title is pretty appropriate for the way 'the act' happens.
The most surreally habitual, involuntary set of actions defines the genesis of this multi-daily routine. It started as a 'motion to deny' those who were seemingly reveling in its zephyr. There is the perception that one's nerves are assuaged by its indulgence. It appears to be the uber cool (won't know what that is though) thing to do even before you get yourself a degree to walk the talk in life.
It is supposed to be the pied piper for all those desperados who yearn for some meaningless attention. Most are under the delusion that it gets them into that 'class apart' strata of the already frivolous society. It manages to cast a cloud of illusions where the self-deprecating individual gets thrown in a realm of make believe. This is a world where one is the Lord, the King, the Invincible, the Ultimate in being-the-one. It infiltrates and cons the sane mind to portray a false impersonation of a rather staid individual who begins to think it is a style accessory.
Amidst all these myriad thoughts and theories, one gets hooked! And it'd be part of your routine. Unfortunately or rather fortunately for me, none of the above so called reasons were part of getting indulged. I stated the above as it is part of psychiatric folklore to associate the habit with being an answer to some non-sensical, self-deprecating reason for suffering from an intolerable case of insecurity. Huh!
It all started on 25 September, 1995 at about 2000 hrs. Minutes before that I was headed back to my hostel room to get some air after a pretty introspective evening about how the semester was progressing. Something in me told me to take a detour... and my feet took me to the All Night Canteen that was a hop away from my room.
Getting this monkey of a habit off yourself is a herculean effort. And believe me, I have lived with it for years. Millions of drag-flick acts later, I tend to realize the colossal waste of time and resources that was expended with pretty much no value add. It is a habit that needs a strong will to shake it off your routine. And mine is just getting stronger towards the moment when I will give it the final 'flick'! :)
The most surreally habitual, involuntary set of actions defines the genesis of this multi-daily routine. It started as a 'motion to deny' those who were seemingly reveling in its zephyr. There is the perception that one's nerves are assuaged by its indulgence. It appears to be the uber cool (won't know what that is though) thing to do even before you get yourself a degree to walk the talk in life.
It is supposed to be the pied piper for all those desperados who yearn for some meaningless attention. Most are under the delusion that it gets them into that 'class apart' strata of the already frivolous society. It manages to cast a cloud of illusions where the self-deprecating individual gets thrown in a realm of make believe. This is a world where one is the Lord, the King, the Invincible, the Ultimate in being-the-one. It infiltrates and cons the sane mind to portray a false impersonation of a rather staid individual who begins to think it is a style accessory.
Amidst all these myriad thoughts and theories, one gets hooked! And it'd be part of your routine. Unfortunately or rather fortunately for me, none of the above so called reasons were part of getting indulged. I stated the above as it is part of psychiatric folklore to associate the habit with being an answer to some non-sensical, self-deprecating reason for suffering from an intolerable case of insecurity. Huh!
It all started on 25 September, 1995 at about 2000 hrs. Minutes before that I was headed back to my hostel room to get some air after a pretty introspective evening about how the semester was progressing. Something in me told me to take a detour... and my feet took me to the All Night Canteen that was a hop away from my room.
Getting this monkey of a habit off yourself is a herculean effort. And believe me, I have lived with it for years. Millions of drag-flick acts later, I tend to realize the colossal waste of time and resources that was expended with pretty much no value add. It is a habit that needs a strong will to shake it off your routine. And mine is just getting stronger towards the moment when I will give it the final 'flick'! :)
Thursday, August 21, 2008
High Time!
It has been long since I took an innocuous reprieve with the bottle . It was supposed to douse those fires. It was supposed to help me think better. It was supposed to cajole me as a friend when all else is lost. It was supposed to be my elixir.
It turned out to be a constant companion over the years which has been privy to every subtle nuance of my personal life that comprised a rollercoaster set of experiences. Comfortably numb was I in the shelter of the high that assuaged my spirit. So constant was its presence that a spare moment without it - outside the realm of the 'win my bread' routine - was unthinkable. Acquired or not, it was definitely gaining ground to be an indelible part of me.
It never asked for anything. It didn't need any occasion. It prodded you to embrace it regardless of which emotion you were feeling at any given point in time. And succeed it did, in a spirited way!
But then comes a time when you know that it fogged your mind all along, keeping your focus away from the more important things around you. It was a realization that can't be ignored. Everything ages with time but only the spirits age better with time. Not us.
Loyalties are profound and the love for the high is immense. But one has to move away from the lure in the interest of a more staid, responsible innings of the future. I have had my moments with probably my best non-human friend and will always cherish those boisterously funny, slurry, slippery, raucous memories. I will miss its constant presence but will reach out to it on a need to interact basis. I am sure my friend will understand the pain with which I will turn my back to it.
And I am sure when we meet again, we would smile to each other and say, "High Time!"
It turned out to be a constant companion over the years which has been privy to every subtle nuance of my personal life that comprised a rollercoaster set of experiences. Comfortably numb was I in the shelter of the high that assuaged my spirit. So constant was its presence that a spare moment without it - outside the realm of the 'win my bread' routine - was unthinkable. Acquired or not, it was definitely gaining ground to be an indelible part of me.
It never asked for anything. It didn't need any occasion. It prodded you to embrace it regardless of which emotion you were feeling at any given point in time. And succeed it did, in a spirited way!
But then comes a time when you know that it fogged your mind all along, keeping your focus away from the more important things around you. It was a realization that can't be ignored. Everything ages with time but only the spirits age better with time. Not us.
Loyalties are profound and the love for the high is immense. But one has to move away from the lure in the interest of a more staid, responsible innings of the future. I have had my moments with probably my best non-human friend and will always cherish those boisterously funny, slurry, slippery, raucous memories. I will miss its constant presence but will reach out to it on a need to interact basis. I am sure my friend will understand the pain with which I will turn my back to it.
And I am sure when we meet again, we would smile to each other and say, "High Time!"
Wednesday, May 7, 2008
Survival Ecosystems!
This piece is dedicated to all those people that impact your lives every day but get away without getting your due attention. These are people that matter to you and very dearly so. For a nanosecond, if you were to consider them to be 'not there' when you need them, then you would realize the profound impact that their presence makes to your life.
I tend to bond with people very naturally. For me, it is as easy to dine with a C-level executive in the swanky ambience of a 5-star restaurant as it is to hobnob with a day wage worker over a stick of unrefined tobacco while he tends to some restoration work at home.
In this part of the world, and to my mind in many similar parts of the world, there are ecosystems of survivors that surround us. These microcosmic ecosystems comprising of men and women are prevalent everywhere - at home, at work, at markets, at local retail stores.
Parking Ecosystem
Mishra-ji, as I fondly call him, is a scrawny, high energy, low momentum person. He is the high priest of the parking lot next to the office. He, to my mind, is the lord of the cartel that comprises of skilled chauffeurs who make a living out of hustling the cars of the employees of organizations that operate in the vicinity.
The demand is pretty simple. Each employee expects his/ her car to be parked in the most best place possible across two crowded narrow streets. The drill seems even simpler. The employees arrive and promptly get off their 'most loved machine on wheels' handing over the keys to the lord or one of his croonies. Then the real game begins. There is a frenzied pace of taking each car to their designated cocoon on the dusty street in the fastest possible time. Rush hour (0900 hrs - 1000 hrs) is privy to the alacrity with which each member of the cartel hurries around the parking area (which is pretty much across the sidewalks that were once there). Engines are revved up, mental notes are made about each car's day cocoon and the service continues to be extended to other people who keep driving in onto the street. All of this happens while the regular traffic is moving across these narrow streets. A temporary reprieve happens when the frenzy dies down. There the respective car keys are slipped into a metallic hoop that is the resting place of other car keys till dusk arrives.
Daily parking fare for each car is 25 cents (American). Now, despite the fact that the owners of these cars demand excellent parking service, the mindset of people is usually quite miserly when it comes to payouts. The lord encashes his cartel's efforts when the cars are ready to be driven home by their owners. The average number of cars that are hustled vary between 50-70 cars a day, give or take about 10 that move out during the day which means that 10 fresh cars can be accomodated. Doing the math brings me to a range of $12.5 - $17.5 per day as income for the cartel. These are for steady cars that come in during the morning and move out only after business hours. Factoring the 10-odd cars that move in and move out during the day adds another $2.5 to the overall income. Net : $15 - $20 each day. During a typical month with 22 working days, the monthly income for the cartel ranges from $330 - $440. Pretty neat deal, one might think. But if you do the math in terms of the number of cars hustled during 2 peak hours each day for 22 days, then the number is quite whopping.
Then there is me to whom Mishra-ji extends a small favor. The deal is that I get to keep the keys of my car to myself and he needs to get me a decent dusty cocoon for my car. The cost of this favor is double the parking fare per day (50 cents). That makes it $11 per month for me while my peers pay $5.5 a month. Each time there is a festival, I contribute about $2.5 for the cartel's celebrations. On days when I don't show up due to business travel or otherwise, I make it up to the lord by offering a token amount which varies based on the period of absence.
For me, it is all about the joy of contributing to the daily strife of these tireless individuals. It doesn't take much out of me to do what I do. What takes me to peace is when I notice the quiet look of Mishra-ji acknowledging my arrival or when he smiles his toothy grin when he receives the extra contribution. He knows the moment I arrive, he needs to pull out a car from its cocoon to get me to get my machine in there. He also admonishes me at times for not speeding up the parking process the way he does it as I park my own car and seldom let him take the wheel. I am not as skilled as him or his croonies are though. It is during those times when the space in the cocoon has only just enough margin for a man his size to wriggle out of that I hand over the keys to him for those few seconds. At the end of the day, he does hustle bigger cars to accomodate my machine and I am eternally grateful to him for that.
It's his affability in the face of palpable indignation of office-goers that makes him taller than some others whom I know in the corporate world. At the epicenter of all this hustling activity, there is a calmness to the execution extending into the serenity of purpose which is to 'Survive at all Odds' while maintaining a standard of excellence. Mishra-ji and his ilk will continue to rock the scene across the multitude of parking lots across the country and beyond while touching our lives in their own subtle way.
I tend to bond with people very naturally. For me, it is as easy to dine with a C-level executive in the swanky ambience of a 5-star restaurant as it is to hobnob with a day wage worker over a stick of unrefined tobacco while he tends to some restoration work at home.
In this part of the world, and to my mind in many similar parts of the world, there are ecosystems of survivors that surround us. These microcosmic ecosystems comprising of men and women are prevalent everywhere - at home, at work, at markets, at local retail stores.
Parking Ecosystem
Mishra-ji, as I fondly call him, is a scrawny, high energy, low momentum person. He is the high priest of the parking lot next to the office. He, to my mind, is the lord of the cartel that comprises of skilled chauffeurs who make a living out of hustling the cars of the employees of organizations that operate in the vicinity.
The demand is pretty simple. Each employee expects his/ her car to be parked in the most best place possible across two crowded narrow streets. The drill seems even simpler. The employees arrive and promptly get off their 'most loved machine on wheels' handing over the keys to the lord or one of his croonies. Then the real game begins. There is a frenzied pace of taking each car to their designated cocoon on the dusty street in the fastest possible time. Rush hour (0900 hrs - 1000 hrs) is privy to the alacrity with which each member of the cartel hurries around the parking area (which is pretty much across the sidewalks that were once there). Engines are revved up, mental notes are made about each car's day cocoon and the service continues to be extended to other people who keep driving in onto the street. All of this happens while the regular traffic is moving across these narrow streets. A temporary reprieve happens when the frenzy dies down. There the respective car keys are slipped into a metallic hoop that is the resting place of other car keys till dusk arrives.
Daily parking fare for each car is 25 cents (American). Now, despite the fact that the owners of these cars demand excellent parking service, the mindset of people is usually quite miserly when it comes to payouts. The lord encashes his cartel's efforts when the cars are ready to be driven home by their owners. The average number of cars that are hustled vary between 50-70 cars a day, give or take about 10 that move out during the day which means that 10 fresh cars can be accomodated. Doing the math brings me to a range of $12.5 - $17.5 per day as income for the cartel. These are for steady cars that come in during the morning and move out only after business hours. Factoring the 10-odd cars that move in and move out during the day adds another $2.5 to the overall income. Net : $15 - $20 each day. During a typical month with 22 working days, the monthly income for the cartel ranges from $330 - $440. Pretty neat deal, one might think. But if you do the math in terms of the number of cars hustled during 2 peak hours each day for 22 days, then the number is quite whopping.
Then there is me to whom Mishra-ji extends a small favor. The deal is that I get to keep the keys of my car to myself and he needs to get me a decent dusty cocoon for my car. The cost of this favor is double the parking fare per day (50 cents). That makes it $11 per month for me while my peers pay $5.5 a month. Each time there is a festival, I contribute about $2.5 for the cartel's celebrations. On days when I don't show up due to business travel or otherwise, I make it up to the lord by offering a token amount which varies based on the period of absence.
For me, it is all about the joy of contributing to the daily strife of these tireless individuals. It doesn't take much out of me to do what I do. What takes me to peace is when I notice the quiet look of Mishra-ji acknowledging my arrival or when he smiles his toothy grin when he receives the extra contribution. He knows the moment I arrive, he needs to pull out a car from its cocoon to get me to get my machine in there. He also admonishes me at times for not speeding up the parking process the way he does it as I park my own car and seldom let him take the wheel. I am not as skilled as him or his croonies are though. It is during those times when the space in the cocoon has only just enough margin for a man his size to wriggle out of that I hand over the keys to him for those few seconds. At the end of the day, he does hustle bigger cars to accomodate my machine and I am eternally grateful to him for that.
It's his affability in the face of palpable indignation of office-goers that makes him taller than some others whom I know in the corporate world. At the epicenter of all this hustling activity, there is a calmness to the execution extending into the serenity of purpose which is to 'Survive at all Odds' while maintaining a standard of excellence. Mishra-ji and his ilk will continue to rock the scene across the multitude of parking lots across the country and beyond while touching our lives in their own subtle way.
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
Just a thought...
I imagine sitting on an elevated flat rock, with a drink at hand and with the wind blowing into my head, while I am tapping away at the keyboard of my laptop. Yes, I am imagining myself to be the isolated, elevated, king of wilderness… wanting to write the history of his thoughts. It is a tremendous rush in the head as the images unfold in the chambers of my mind.
An Ode to 'the' Woman.*
It took us a long while…
To come to terms with reality.
But there comes a time…
When one can’t fight love’s destiny.
The winds of change are here…
And love only goes to blossom further.
There’s a feeling of unbridled joy…
Ushering from the heart’s nether.
I see a future of us…
Built on a bond of trust.
The odds are tough…
And we fight, for it is a must.
Life feels complete…
With the presence of you.
I can ask for nothing more…
In a life that gave me you.
The days are brighter…
And the nights are cosier.
The hopes live on…
To have you around me forever.
I thank you for being you…
For this is an ode to the Woman in You.
*(Written on May 06, 2002)
To come to terms with reality.
But there comes a time…
When one can’t fight love’s destiny.
The winds of change are here…
And love only goes to blossom further.
There’s a feeling of unbridled joy…
Ushering from the heart’s nether.
I see a future of us…
Built on a bond of trust.
The odds are tough…
And we fight, for it is a must.
Life feels complete…
With the presence of you.
I can ask for nothing more…
In a life that gave me you.
The days are brighter…
And the nights are cosier.
The hopes live on…
To have you around me forever.
I thank you for being you…
For this is an ode to the Woman in You.
*(Written on May 06, 2002)
Onboard 'Scribbles & Snapshots'!
Well, I finally got myself to shrug off the perceived discomfort of engaging myself on a blog. It seems to be a rather cool place for a part of the soul to hang out. It will be interesting to see though how my musings will elicit myriad opinions from everyone.
I am not thinking of writing anything in particular at the moment. I am meandering in the labyrinths of my mind trying to figure out what I probably should write about. It took me a fair while to get down to giving a title to my blogspot.
'Scribbles & Snapshots' will be my space which will have open corridors, defined sound corners and other such areas that hopes to sustain a hygienic mix of ideas, experiences, observations, thoughts and views. I will begin by opening these corridors to my friends who in turn (I hope) will pass on the good word about 'Scribbles & Snapshots'.
This space will be worth watching once in a while... and might eventually end up being quite an online addiction.
I am not thinking of writing anything in particular at the moment. I am meandering in the labyrinths of my mind trying to figure out what I probably should write about. It took me a fair while to get down to giving a title to my blogspot.
'Scribbles & Snapshots' will be my space which will have open corridors, defined sound corners and other such areas that hopes to sustain a hygienic mix of ideas, experiences, observations, thoughts and views. I will begin by opening these corridors to my friends who in turn (I hope) will pass on the good word about 'Scribbles & Snapshots'.
This space will be worth watching once in a while... and might eventually end up being quite an online addiction.
The Anthology of Me.
The mornings usher in with renewed zest
But the day frays away the energy.
The nights cajole the beleaguered soul
But strife traverses relief.
One moves through the myriad patterns that is life
Hoping and working for a better tomorrow.
The race is for a place with the stars
But there is no straw to cling to.
Tepid shivers that remind…
The song of the seagull that haunts.
The cry of the wanderer that hurts.
The laugh of life that provokes and shouts.
Melancholy has lost its tone
And the hyenas are feasting.
The lion is a distant loner
Wondering at the wound of the bee sting.
Life has its animated existence
Mocking at the call of the soul.
Expectations are a worried cousin
And peace the ultimate goal.
This is the beginning of my anthology…
But the day frays away the energy.
The nights cajole the beleaguered soul
But strife traverses relief.
One moves through the myriad patterns that is life
Hoping and working for a better tomorrow.
The race is for a place with the stars
But there is no straw to cling to.
Tepid shivers that remind…
The song of the seagull that haunts.
The cry of the wanderer that hurts.
The laugh of life that provokes and shouts.
Melancholy has lost its tone
And the hyenas are feasting.
The lion is a distant loner
Wondering at the wound of the bee sting.
Life has its animated existence
Mocking at the call of the soul.
Expectations are a worried cousin
And peace the ultimate goal.
This is the beginning of my anthology…
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