The assassin who tried to kill my family

Image from here

I am one of the few blessed people who live in a city away from their relatives. Less noses in my affairs. Less Gyan. Less plastic smiles. More peace of mind.

So when a relative is about to come to our house, it creates a frenzy equalling that of cyclone Phalin. I must admit that the frequency has reduced after the death of my grandparents but there was a time when there were regular visitors. It was one such visitor whom I remember very clearly. He was the guy who tried to kill my family.  The assassin.

This assassin was a cousin of my grandma. He was from the hills. He was rotund, had pink cheeks that were dropping off his face because of old age. His eyes were sharp and always scanning everyone in the vicinity, as if trying to find avenues in case he had to escape. His voice was muffled, as if he was standing behind layers of cotton. He never brought gifts for us children but always hugged us whenever he came, swathing us with smells of trees and his unwashed underarms. He would sit for hours with my grandma talking in their local language, sometimes laughing his terrifying laugh. His laugh always reminded me of a serial killer who while trying a dress made of the skin of his victims realized that the dress fits him perfectly.

Grandma was very fond of him. She had no idea that he tried to kill us every time he visited. Every single time.

I distinctly remember the first time he tried to murder me. I was sleeping and suddenly there was this deafening roar that shook me out of my slumber. For a second I thought that a gang of lions have attacked our apartment. My heart was in my mouth when I heard the roar again. I sat up hurriedly torn between screaming and hiding under my bed. Then a third roar happened. A thin crack appeared in the ceiling. It was as if the house was unable to stand the vibrations. I gathered courage and got off my bed. I reached the adjacent room where the assassin was sleeping. I was at the door when another roar brought a warm gust of wind towards my face, leaving my hair in an upheaval. I almost choked at the moist wind smelling of a mixture of chicken curry and bad breath. The roar happened again and I saw the windowpanes vibrate and the ceiling fan sway. I was terrified that the house will not be able to withstand the strain of such powerful snoring. Soon, I realized that my whole family was up, confused and shocked. My grandfather almost had a heart attack. Our hearts were in our mouth. We were so close to our deaths. Eventually, mother stuffed some cotton in my ears to ease the suffering but I was not able to sleep.

In the morning, the assassin tried to kill me again.

There was just one loo in our house back then. I was desperately in a need to use it but the assassin was taking his own sweet time. Maybe he was skinning a rat alive. Its not that we had rats in our house but he might be carrying one from the hills to play with it before slaughtering it. Finally, the door opened and he came out. I rushed inside and locked the door. What followed was the stuff hell must be made of. Even though the assassin had the good sense to flush, the loo reeked of such unimaginable smells that I choked for a good five minutes before I decided to stop breathing. I opened the window but the smells were not leaving. I eventually pushed my mouth towards the open window and took a lungful of breath because I was in a danger of turning blue and collapsing. It took me a good fifteen minutes to save myself from this lethal attack of the assassin, during which I completely forgot the real reason for which I entered the gas chamber.

It was not just me, every member of my family who had the misfortune of entering the death room after the assassin met the same fate. They came out wide eyed, clutching their throats, panting like a man with a fish bone stuck in his throat.

We were all terrified. We huddled together night after night, morning after morning, trying to survive the attacks. Thankfully, none of my family members died of choking or heart attacks but the assassin left no stone unturned as he tried to wipe us off the planet.

He visited us again and again, year after year. Everytime the news of his arrival was shared by grandma, we all sent a silent prayer towards the almighty. Mom used to run towards the small temple in our house and pray for the survival of our family. His visits dwindled after my grandma passed away and now I haven’t seen him in years.

Even now I shudder when I think of those terrifying days where my family was attacked mercilessly. We survived the odds. The trauma brought us together, binding us in neverending love.

I am proud of that time when all of us held hands together and fought the assassin. The assassin who tried to kill MY FAMILY.

Confused Scared Dirty Angry

image from here

What can a guy possibly know about sexual abuse? After all, he can only have a second hand experience of what the female population of this country goes through on a daily basis. That is why I have to tell you my story.

I was a very shy kid in school. I never bullied anyone or picked up a fight. All I did was study diligently and top my class every single year. When not studying, I was neck deep into Charles Dickens, Thomas Hardy and Arthur Conan Doyle. My sports teacher were perplexed to come across a boy who did not like throwing and hitting balls. I had great difficulty in striking a conversation with strangers and was terrified at the prospect of leaving the warm embrace of known faces in my school and join a college. To my utter discomfort, that is exactly what life had in store for me.

I got admission in a good college in Delhi University. The college was a one hour bus ride from my home. In those Metro-less days, The DTC buses as a mode of transport were as good as Manmohan Singh as our Prime Minister. So, the only way to get to the college was to board the notorious killer machines called Blueline buses. Sometimes, the buses were so crowded that you won’t find space to expand your chest to breathe. All I could see was a mass of hands holding the metal rods and pressing the windowpanes for support. The crowd was like a giant, single animal with multiple hands protruding from all sides.

The year was 1997. It was a time when we still talked about a lot of topics in hushed voices. Topics like rape, sexual abuse, child molestation, sexual orientation were not openly discussed. And yes, Rape and Sexual abuse happened only to women. Add to it my complete disconnection to the real world because of my nature and you would realise that I was shockingly naive.

So one fine day, I left the college in a hurry to get away from the awful place full of strangers and boarded a Blueline bus chock-a-block with more strangers. I squeezed in somehow and stood completely surrounded by unidentified torsos. A few moments later I felt a hand on my crotch. At first I ignored it, considering the number of people in the bus but then I felt that the hand was not there by mistake. It was slowly rubbing my crotch. I looked down and traced the hand back to the human attached to it. The person who was doing this was an elderly uncle in his late 50s. He looked straight into my eyes and kept rubbing. 

The first emotion that hit me was complete confusion. Why would a person who is of the age of my grandfather rub my crotch? I knew he was somehow getting aroused by this but I failed to understand how. I went red in the face and moved away from him. To my surprise, he came after me. He again stood near me and tried to rub my crotch. By this time, I was completely agitated and it showed on my face. I had no idea what to do in such a situation. I was this scared, timid boy who did not have the courage to push him back. When I look back, I understand that courage and anger are the last of your thoughts, especially when it is happening for the first time. Confused and scared – that is what I felt at the moment. Why was this even happening? I again moved away from him and this time he sensed trouble and did not follow.

When I reached home, I felt anger erupting inside me. I still could not make sense of an old man touching me like this. I felt dirty and disgusted. I did not discuss this with anyone but my parents did notice that I was a bit sad. I encountered the man two more times in the bus back home. He recognized me and tried to come near me but I was not going to let him get away with it, so I always moved near to the driver where I was not completely surrounded by people. He gave up after that.

It took me a long time to get over the incident. 

I told my wife about this incident a few days back. She asked me that how would such an incident play on my psyche if it happened again and again. I told her that I would be devastated till the point that I will require medical help to come out of it. She told me about numerous incidents that happened to her while traveling in buses. She told me how she was groped many times and how she sometimes received help. The women not only survive such abusers but they have to then survive the fingers pointing at them. I cannot imagine someone coming to me and telling me that what that uncle did was my fault. I would spit in the person’s face. 

So you see, I know a bit about sexual abuse. It is a tiny blip in comparison to what happens to women in India but I understand what they go through. I understand how it plays with your mind, how it makes you jittery in the presence of strangers, how it makes you wonder about a life in a parallel universe where you are respected, where people will not touch you without your permission, where they will not treat you as objects. 

I still feel angry that he got away with it. I feel angry that so many people get away with it in our country, in this world. Yes, the world around me has changed in the last 16 years. We are more vocal, more angry. But the abuses haven’t subsided. 

I am a different person from how I was in 1997. I have lived alone, managed my affairs and have shed most of my phobias. And if it is any consolation, if that incident happens now, I would grab that uncle by his balls and toss him out of the moving bus. It would save many more youngsters the trauma they would have gone through by his hands.

Why SBI is the worst bank of India

Most of you must have already heard horror stories about people taking a Home loan from SBI and then end up cursing the day they took the decision. I have known people who have promptly moved their home loan applications to another bank so that they could relieve themselves from the nightmare of dealing with The Great State Bank if India.

My nightmare is not about a home loan because I was forewarned and did not touch SBI even with a barge pole. This nightmare is a much basic one and now I know why I have seen so many people shout at the employees of SBI. I am soon going to be one of them.

Geet has a Savings and a PPF account in the Sector -3, Rohini branch, Delhi (IFS code – SBIN0011357) of this amazing bank. Since we have moved to a place quite far away from Rohini, we decided to move the accounts to a branch which is very close to our home. We went to the Rohini branch and submitted a handwritten application. And then we waited and waited and waited.

As far as I know and as far as my experience with other banks go, there is a computer network in all banks and the employee goes to a specific screen on his system and changes the branch code there and voila! your branch is changed. Then the customer must go in the new branch and confirm. Thats it. But things don’t happen this way in SBI.

After almost 20 days of submitting the application, I went confidently into the branch close to my house to confirm that both the accounts have been moved and I was told that they are still in Rohini. Now, even if someone finds it difficult to locate an alphabet on the keyboard (as most of SBI employees do), I do not believe that the employee will take 20 days to press a few keys and move the account.

I came back home and called up the Rohini branch.

a) They had no idea that such an application existed.

b) They were very cool about the fact that the accounts have not been moved. “Why don’t you come to the branch and resubmit the application” – the guy at the other end said. “I have many other things to do in my life. Make sure they are transferred and I will call again” – I shouted back.

I called back again after 4 days.

“Sorry the staff is not available due to Diwali.”

“But today is not Diwali.”

“They will be available on Friday.”

I called back again on Friday.

“Sorry but madam has not reached yet. She will look into it.”

“When does your office open?”

“10”

“And she is not in even by 11?”

“Uh-uh”

“So you guys are treating it as a Sarkari Daftar (Government office)?”

I then called up after 11. A lady picked up the phone. I explained her the situation and asked her to check in her system whether the accounts have been moved or not.

“Sorry I don’t have a system.”

“Can someone else check it?”

“Can you come in the branch?”

“I don’t think so. I submitted the application 1 month back. It surely does not take that long to move an account from one branch to another. Please check it.”

She then talked to someone and the call was disconnected. I called again. I called nine times (yes, I counted) before a guy picked up the phone.

“Sorry sir, no one is available right now.”

“Connect me to your manager.”

“Manager is not there, he has been transferred.”

“Your bank is working without a manager?”

“Yes.”

I do not have any inclination of continuing with this godforsaken bank. And before I forget, after your account is moved to another branch (if it is ever moved), you have to fill the application in that branch as well. It is as good as opening a new account. Yeah, it is completely sarkari and disgusting.

The staff was completely ill-prepared and lazy and was not able to help me at all. They basically want people to run around them like dogs and lick their feet so that the employees might take pity at them and do the work.

Two other really bad incidents with SBI –

a) Geet applied for a cheque book and gave an application in the Rohini branch. The cheque book came and all the cheques carried her maiden name which was changed in the bank records almost a year back. SBI is basically fine with wasting everyone’s time and their own resources too.

b) My mother-in-law had to go to the Rohini branch 4 times to get an entry in her passbook as no one was available at the window. She is 65.

The Citizen Charter of SBI states that –

a satisfied customer is the most important factor for growth of its business.

Seriously SBI? No Shit! I have seen too many people abusing your staff for testing their patience to believe that your employees have no idea that they are not supposed to treat everyone as scum.

I will keep harassing the staff at Rohini over the phone to get my accounts transferred. I hope I will not be too much trouble.  I also have raised an online complaint at your website if you care to know.

[image from here]

A country called Uttar Pradesh

Top left is where the fun is!!

It has been six months since I shifted home to Ghaziabad. Don’t cringe. Yes, I have left Delhi for good because the locality where I lived had started looking like a ghetto in Nazi occupied Europe. It used to be an open, green space some twenty-five years back but urbanization (which basically means cars and humans reproducing like rabbits) has choked it. Now Ghaziabad is the next upcoming destination in NCR and has some nice localities like Kaushambhi, Vasundhara, Vaishali and Indirapuram. One of them is my home now. Eventually they will turn into a ghetto too but till then I can breathe. Hell! Sometimes I feel like a well settled nomad.

Ten years ago if somebody would have hinted that I should settle in Ghaziabad, I would have frozen that guy with my stare. I would have preferred eating mud sitting comfortably in a pit full of vipers. My perspective has changed. It’s just another piece of land (if you don’t consider the people).

If you consider the people, to say that Uttar Pradesh is a country in itself will be an understatement. Everything here is so similar yet so different from Delhi. There is something in the air of Uttar Pradesh. Adventures are so tempting in this country. A citizen who is a submissive Dr. Jekyll in Delhi would suddenly turn into Mr. Hyde on crossing the border. Sample this:

The Road is thy playground

Somehow the citizens of U.P. love to roam in the middle of roads. I still haven’t come in terms with people strolling like lazy buffaloes on the roads. I am sure I will pretty soon need toe surgery because of the sheer number of times I have to apply brakes to my car here. And, the icing on the cake is the stare I get later on. Makes me feel like a worm floating in a drain. People here don’t believe in looking left-right-left before crossing a road. They look straight ahead, as if looking in their distant happy future. I can bet it does not include a leg broken in a car accident because I bloody apply the breaks every time. Sometimes I do have the urge to accelerate and break someone’s leg. That will leave one less person to irritate me. You see? I am halfway to Hyde.

Road signs are for hanging politicians

The first time I saw this, I was taken aback. Appalled. Scandalized. I understand stupidity but this was fuc*ing unbelievable. A lot of those huge blue road signs on NH24 are very frequently covered with posters of ugly politicians congratulation more ugly politicians on their birthdays, on festivals, on buying a new cow or on whitewashing their house. And this is on an important highway where people depend on those road signs to find their way; A highway notorious for the sheer number of road accidents that happen on it.

Mr. Politician, its great that you want to be in some hotshot’s good books, but you can send then some darned flowers instead of confessing your love hanging from a signboard.

Uttar Pradesh takes “covering up” to a whole new level.

Rudeness rules

This one was observed by my father. Most of the shopkeepers here are downright rude. You might enter a shop and stand there till the end of the world and wither away and chances are that the shopkeeper might not even acknowledge your presence. They have a what-the-fu*k-do-you-want attitude followed by didn’t-I-just-fuc*ing-gave-you-what-you-wanted? The shopkeepers here are doing you a huge favor by allowing you in their shop and expect you to kiss their feet before you leave. While in Uttar Pradesh, brace yourself for that why-are-you-even-here-as*hole(?) look in the shops.

Lanes are for the retarded

Driving in the wrong lane is considered some sort of trophy here. It makes you a real man. It is something about which you could brag to your future generations. I have ducked huge trucks coming towards my car in the wrong lane. I almost pissed my pants that day and had nightmares for a few days. People here do not take the pain to go till the next U-turn to reach the proper lane. They just drive in the wrong lane even if they have to drive like this to their bloody destination. And they are so proud of this fete. A few days back, the rickshaw in which I was going home was almost trampled by a car speeding (!) in the wrong lane. The driver after hastily applying the brakes actually glared at the poor rickshaw puller.

To think of it, most of the people settled in these localities are from Delhi and they have completely lost it and turned into Mr. Hyde. Well, lawlessness is a virus hard to contain.

A special note for the driver of the bus which drops me home – You rock! You make the Pod race sequence in the Phantom Menace look like a couple or turtles taking a stroll.

Laziness is a gift

It took me four months to have a gas pipeline reach my house. The Electricity department is so unabashedly lazy that you have to take your meter reading yourself, go to their office and submit the amount. They won’t send you a bill or come to take the reading. Complain about a burst water pipeline in your locality and the concerned department don’t even bother to ask where. The postman does not bother to deliver mails. Online bill payment is something unheard of and the online websites look like rape victims – disarrayed and bewildered. Everyone seems to be so tired of their lives and are just waiting for it to end.

After being born and brought up in the capital, I had a pretty grim picture of Delhi in my mind. Twenty years ago, I might have written a similar post about Delhi. Uttar Pradesh seems to have pushed me back twenty years. It’s like living and breathing a Deja Vu. Now how many people get that golden chance of reliving a nauseating nostalgia?

Ek Main Aur Ekk Tu & Dinner table discussions

Who could have thought that Ek Main Aur Ekk Tu will spark off dazzling dinner table debates at home? I saw the movie with mom, dad, sis and Geet (yeah! Polly has been rechristened Geet. It was long overdue). Although the movie was above average, it broke many boundaries around how girls are expected to behave in our society. The movie projected the female protagonist as someone who had 6 past relationships, who had a great capacity for beer, who likes her personal space, is not worried that she is 27 and not married and can talk freely of sex and can rate a guy’s and her own butt.

*spoiler ahead*

I loved the fact that even though the guy acted like a typical guy and took she-is-roaming-with-me-and-introducing-me-to-her-family as she-loves-me, the girl stood her ground and did not buckle under the pressure. She wanted him as a friend and that’s that. They still annul their marriage. And she does not care that he is super rich.

*spoiler ends*

We have seen similar movies before – Salaam Namaste, Mere Brother Ki Dulhan, Kya Kehna, Jab We Met and many others where the female leads are strong. Similarly Ek Main Aur Ekk Tu made the female protagonist much powerful than her male counterpart which is very rare in Bollywood movies. It gave her the right to decide in the end.

Now, before I indulge you with our dinner table debates, I must tell you that dad is quite cool with guys and girls befriending each other and going out for movies and parties. He has never stopped me or my sister from enjoying ourselves, although they are more cautious with sis. They are also comfortable with the whole girlfriend-boyfriend-affair-shaffair scenarios. Of course, dad and mom say things like it’s against our culture and stuff but they hardly believe it themselves. They just have to say it to maintain the Indian-culture façade (the same way you mechanically brush your teeth when you wake up) so that we don’t mistake them to be dangerously liberal.

The whole debate was about Dad having a problem with couples staying together without marriage. Okay, I know this doesn’t go with what happened in the movie but he was commenting about Kareena Kapoor and Saif Ali Khan. He could not understand Bipasha and John also who were together since the Big bang and then separated. He might have a point here but then I reminded him that everyone in question were adults and we do not have any right to question what they do in their personal lives. You know where this is going right?

Dad thinks that we live in a society and we have to live by its rules. Why do you have to live with a guy for 5 years and then jump partners after you get bored with him (he meant – after you had sex with him)? There is nothing sacrosanct in the whole affair.

I told him (in less obvious terms) that maintaining your virginity before marriage does not make the whole affair sacrosanct. That is a bit outdated. Secondly, everyone look out for new partners if things do not work out between couples. You don’t have to turn into a nun after your first breakup. Thirdly, our society is the most nosey and hypocrite society in this world. We are fine with girl infanticide, child labor, rapes, corruption, riots, dowry and so many other evils but we find it very objectionable when two consenting adults (who have the right to choose our Prime Minister) live together. It’s actually none of our business. *mom, sis and Geet nodded vigorously*

And this went on and on. It was funny because although dad saw my point in the end, my parents find it very hard to believe that our society has changed so much. I did not tell them that a lot of people have sex with their partners before they get married. I also did not tell them that Geet and I saw a college going couple kissing each other for 1 ½ hours as we watched Source Code in the theatre. It might be too much for them.

I can understand where he is coming from. He was brought up by a disciplinarian who locked up his daughter in the toilet if he found her talking to a boy. My parents were not very liberal with me and my sis initially. They had their apprehensions. Giving their son certain freedom might lead to their daughter asking something similar. But they loosened up and thankfully so. They still raise their eyebrows at sis at times, but she is a maverick. And I am outside their radar ever since I married Geet.

Frankly speaking, I myself would not have been very comfortable about a live-in but that certainly does not mean that I would pass judgment on anyone choosing it. It is also important to understand that movies like Ek Main Aur Ekk Tu explore just one end of the spectrum. India is too diverse in its thoughts and opinions that accepting what happened in the movie as a norm would be foolish. Also, we have to understand that only a small percentage of our generation (especially urban) has moved ahead and understood that the nose is to smell the roses and not to poke in someone’s affairs. The rest of the present generation and a majority of the older one is tied to its belief system. They live in a matrix of society, wired into its complicated circuit.

But yes, whether we like it or not, there is a change and it’s happening right under our nose.

The needles

The first thing that changes in you after returning to India is that the needle of your swear-meter flails very close to the danger mark, almost to the verge of rupturing a nerve in your brain. Well, almost.

It happened with me. It’s still happening. I am a lot more angrier now a days. Small things like someone opening a glass door with his hand, imprinting the Congress symbol on it while ignoring a bloody handle irritates me to no end. I feel like shouting. A few deep breaths later, I am fine.

Then I see people falling over each other to get into a lift to go to a floor above when the lift is going to the basement, simple because they can’t take chances. What if it is filled at the basement? They will be stranded at the ground floor till eternity.

These are small things. I know. I know we will be ahead of China in a couple of years. We are reproducing like crazy. Just like a virus experiment gone horribly wrong. I think that is why people have no patience for anything. They have to take shortcuts, do everything as quickly as possible. Win the race. And, of course, you can’t take away the fact that we are still quite rustic at heart.

I was telling Polly (who is a teacher) that you can define liquid to your class by showing them a photograph of a traffic jam in India. The stream of vehicles take the shape of any vacant area around the roads. And it took me a lot of time to get used to the honking. Believe me, that is the first thing you notice after coming back. It is like needles in your ears. And people honking at rickshaw-pullers is funny. The rickshaw will not develop wings and fly away.

Today, while driving my car, I saw a woman cross the road with the school going kid. She did not bother to look both sides before crossing. A lot of people do that. They believe that even if there is a car coming at a speed of 70, the guy will eventually apply the brakes when he will see two people in the middle of the road, roaming as if in a park. But what if that guy is distracted? What if he is not able to apply the brakes?  I don’t know whether the fact that our religions talk about rebirth provides us with the audacity to belittle life or are we so wrapped up in taking shortcuts that we forget to bother about anyone’s life? When I see people driving on the wrong side of the road just because the U-turn is a bit ahead, I start believing that the latter is true.

Making queues is unheard of at most of the places, leave alone the courtesy of letting the person standing before you complete his transaction. A few days back, I had a fight with a woman who created a new ‘ladies’ line at the metro station when the original line was only 2 people long! She called herself Anna Hazare and labeled me Rahul Gandhi. I had to tell her that she was an idiot. And then, I was watching the crowd surrounding Anna Hazare at the Ramlila ground and thinking – Given a chance, most of the people sitting here will disregard each other with utter disdain. What if I leave a suitcase full of money in the middle of the crowd? Movement be damned, won’t they claw each other for that?

What kind of people are these? Why is there such utter disrespect of the needs of other people? Why are we always at each others throat?

And then mulling over it, I start realizing, that it’s not just in India. It’s everywhere. It’s basic human nature. Put 10,000,000 humans in Manchester at it will decay as quickly. Developed or developing, societies are directionless in their own way.

Anyways, I was angry, so had to vomit it out somewhere. Thankyou for your patience. And how have all of you been?

p.s. It’s not a comeback post. It’s just a random rant blip.

The price of Happyness

Do you remember this photograph?

Well, if you don’t, then you better READ THIS. Anyways, the point is that I have to change the photograph a little bit. This is how it looks like now:

(Clockwise from top : S, A, L, P, Ra, Ru and Me)

I need answers. I feel like exploding. I want to scream. I feel like a human who was abducted by aliens and had no idea where he was in the last two months or why this happened to him.

I want to know if this happens only to me or are all of us sailing in the same boat?

This has been a salient feature throughout my life and it freaks me out at times. Whenever there is a small tinge of happiness in my life I always have to pay a price for it. The bigger the happiness, the bigger the price. No, I don’t want to balm myself with all the shit about You-wont-know-the-price-of-happiness-till-you-know-what-pain-is. Believe me, I have been through so much pain for so many small tiny happy moments in my life that all I remember is the pain. There is a shloka in Sanskrit which roughly translates to – If you don’t get things at the right time, the rasa(taste) of happiness is not the same. I think either that Shloka was written by me in my previous birth OR someone in the past wrote it when he saw my life through a Crystal Ball. Does this happen to everyone? Or is it just me?

I have always dreamt of seeing the world. To say that I was “happy” when I was told that I would be working from Manchester would be an understatement. I was elated. I was on cloud nine!!! But there was a price attached to it. I could almost see that cynical, mocking smile on God’s face.

“Do you think you are going to get all this for free? You fool!”. And the smirking followed.

I moved to Manchester in February and soon after A and L got married(to each other, that is) that month. We were sad and happy at the same time. For the first time in my life, I understood what “Mixed Feelings” meant. None of us(except the couple) could make it to the wedding. Four of us were in USA and I was in UK. 

I was somehow trying to console myself when the second bomb dropped. Ra and Ru got married(to each other, that is) in April, although we were hoping that it won’t be scheduled before December. Thankfully the newly wed L and A were in India and they were able to make it. Even if the rest of us could have thought about a plan to fly and attend the wedding, the great storm of “Recession” was already looming on the horizon.

I had never imagined in my wildest dreams that I could miss those two weddings. These six fools mean so much to me that I will never forgive God for doing this to us. I was talking to Ra a few days back, and I told him that I have lead a very happy life and if someone would have asked me to go back and change one moment of my life, I would have never done that. But now, everything has changed. I want to go back and change things. If I could somehow go there, and be a part of it….

I was in control of my emotions since the last two months but while looking at the wedding pics which Ra has uploaded in Orkut, I came across a photo of Ra and Ru’s wedding reception where they were sitting with A and L. The caption below the photo read….

2 couples.. and we see many other invisible friends whom we can never forget…

That was it! When I read that caption, I completely broke down. This was the price of my happiness. I got what I wanted. I am in Manchester. But God took away something very very precious to me. Something, which will never happen again and I will never be a part of it.

Does this happen to you too? Is there always a price to pay? Is destiny God’s way of playing cruel jokes on us? Or are we entangled in our own webs of crisscrossed dreams?

p.s. We finally cracked the formula for keeping a group intact. Just marry the girls. 😉

[Photographs are copyrighted by me]

Kalyug’s Ram Sena

Ramayana depicts Ram Sena as an army of monkeys who helped Sri Ram to build a bridge to Sri Lanka and saved Sita from the clutches of Ravan. In Kalyug, Ram Sena means a bunch of illiterate, unemployed and brainwashed monkeys who beat up and molest girls just because, according to them, the girls are not in sync with the “Indian” culture. Well, how times change! 

So, according to the Taliban-inspired-Ram-Sena, women in India are supposed to maintain a certain amount of decorum. But then, if that is the case, all of us should completely abide to the norms set by our culture. If they are forcing girls and boys to disown the “pub” and “mall” culture, then they should make sure that the following are followed too:

• Girls should only wear saree or salwaar-kameez. All the girls wearing jeans, skirts or pants should be beaten up. 
• Boys should only wear Kurta or other regional dresses. Jeans and other western dresses should not be allowed.
• Girls should not work and sit at home and learn the various household activities. 
• Love marriages should not be allowed. Only parents should have the right to choose the spouse for their kids.
• All the pubs in the country should be closed down.
• All the shops selling foreign attires and goods should be closed or burned down.
• All the malls should be closed down.
• All the couples roaming around in public areas should be harassed and beaten up.
• Girls should not move out of their homes alone. They should always be accompanied by an elder male member.

I am sure, the brainwashed Sena will be jumping with excitement to implement all the above mentioned points. Although, there are a few questions I would love to ask them:

1. How many of the Ram Sainiks don’t drink liquor themselves? Is it only girls who are not supposed to drink? Its ok if guys drink and indulge in all kind of inappropriate activities?
2. How many of the Ram Sainiks have not molested girls or eve-teased them? After what we all saw on television, it can be easily concluded that they were quite dexterous and I won’t be surprised if they would have practiced using Mannequins.
3. How many of the Ram Sainiks have beaten up a gang of boys eveteasing a girl, or a man beating up his wife, or a police officer taking a bribe? Of course, they won’t do all these measly tasks when they have more interesting tasks like beating up girls.
4. How many of the Ram Sainiks don’t have girlfriends and don’t roam around with girls? Are all of them Hanuman Bhakts and have taken an oath of staying unmarried for their entire life? I think “Perverts” and “Hypocrites” will be small words for them.
5. Do the Ram Sainiks realise that this is a Democracy and people who visit pubs are above 18 years of age and all capable of understanding the Indian Culture by themselves? When something has to be banned, it is the government which will decide that and not a bunch of uneducated, rustic and directionless men who are a part of an organization which is used by politicians during elections for various illegal activities.
6. Do the Ram Sainiks realize that there is a difference between India and Afganistan and they are turning the former into the latter? Should I be glad that they didn’t stone the girls to death instead of beating them up?

India is full of such Hypocrite people who can be mislead and do anything for money. What happened in Mangalore was a shameful act which just goes to show what a bunch of illiterate people we are. And, then we go ahead and belittle movies like Slumdog Millionare which show the reality to the world. If you can’t digest that, then too bad!!

I was going through a few articles on the internet about what happened in Mangalore, and here are a few gems :

• “We acted like brothers. There is no need to apologize for an act done with good intention.” – Prasad Attavar, state convener, Sri Rama Sena. [[Oh!! That is how brothers behave! Slap, shove and punch sisters?? Guess, I have to revisit my basics.]]
• “Drinking by women is not Indian culture. It’ll morally degrade our society. Women are our mothers and they should behave like that” – Prasad Attavar, state convener, Sri Rama Sena. Full story here. [[What about drinking by men?? Care to comment on that sir?? And that is how we treat our mothers??]]
• ” Women have to be protected as the law has failed. Parents are worried about their wards going astray in materialistic pursuits. We are the custodians of Indian culture” – Sri Ram Sena (SRS) founder Pramod Mutalik. Full story here. [[Which law has failed if a woman is drinking in a pub?? Do we have laws for that too??]]
• “There is no need to raise such a hue and cry about the incident.” – Sri Ram Sena (SRS) founder Pramod Mutalik. [[Yes! No one was raped or killed. Everyone is alive.]]
• “The Karnataka government will not allow pub culture to grow in the state. “ – Karnataka Chief Minister BS Yeddyurappa. Full story here. [[And what about the culture where men beat up women? Care to stop that?]]

I am disgusted, ashamed and sick by the mere thought that I am breathing the same air as these people. I am sorry to call such people my countrymen. I am sorry to be a part of a nation where people take pride in killing their daughters if they fall in love with a guy outside their community, where people rape nuns and where people beat up a girl because she is sitting in a pub. Of course, you can argue that we are better off than Afganistan. But, don’t worry. We are getting there.

Here is a video of the brotherly love. The images might be disturbing.

Terrorism, Mumbai and the Jealous Kid

During the 1980s, when Punjab was in the claws of Terrorism, I was watching Doordarshan when something came up which I would never forget. I was a kid at that time but the visuals left a lasting impact. They were interviewing a Sikh boy(not more that 14-15 years of age) whose whole family was killed in their own house by the terrorists. The boy saved himself by hiding behind the sofa from where he saw terrorists raping his sister throughout the night and shooting her while leaving in the morning. 

I could never forget the face of that boy.

Mumbai terrorist attack which continued almost for 3 days, brought back all the bitter memories. I used to think that we are fortunate that we have not seen the atrocities of the partition, but I am not sure now. All of us have seen some incidences which we will never forget our entire lives. It was the way these attacks were carried out, the brutality of it all, that left me stunned. My paternal Uncle works in Oberoi and it was his lucky day. He had a morning shift next day and left in the evening before it all started. 

What surprised me was that when the terrorists entered the hotels, they asked for people having U.S and UK passports. They just made the reason of the attack so obvious. They are not asking for Kashmir anymore. I don’t think that is the motto anymore because they must have realized that they are not going to get it anyways. The reason has shifted. Its plain Jealousy.

Pakistan and India were born together. But 50 years down the line, India is seen as a potential superpower. There are reports that project India and China as the next emerging powers of the world. And where is our neighbouring country? Nowhere! Its just a terrorist state which breed Terrorism and make the life of the neighbouring countries miserable. They would have equalled India if probably they would have channeled their brains towards the development of their country rather that breeding Terrorists and planning coups. India is at this stage today because we “wanted” our nation to be here. We were not busy planning how to kill people in other countries. And what is happening in Pakistan now? Terrorists fighting amongst each other??

The message which the terrorists wanted to send out via the attacks was very clear – India is as unsafe as any of her neighbours. So why the hell are the Foreign companies investing in India? How can the whole world lend a hand in India’s stupendous development when there is no life safety there? Why doesn’t the world look towards its adjoining neighbours? The whole act reminds me of a kid who one day sees his neighbouring kid having a bright shiny bike and feels so miserable and helpless that he goes and breaks that bike just because his loser father does not have the brains to afford one. The kid thinks that this act would satisfy the jealousy, but at the end of the day, he still does not have the bike! No matter what the terrorist wanted, they have just made the world underline the negative mindset which they had of their country. 

If India wanted, we could have been doubly malicious. But we have always been very forgiving. Since we can’t stoop to such a low levels by sending militant groups to our neighbouring countries to kill people there, we need to tighten our own security. 

Its time that the Indian Government acts. For once, the political parties need to STOP using terrorism as an excuse to hit on each other. Please, anything else but terrorism. All the parties and people have to come together when this word is uttered. We have to stand united on this one otherwise GOD knows what more we might have to go through. We all have had enough of tension and drama in the last three days to last a lifetime. It was disheartening to see BJP coming up with slogans against Congress regarding this terrorist attack even before the operation was over. I urge all the political parties to cut the crap and DO something constructive. Something which will make sure that the next time the jealous kid tries to break the bike, we can kick his butt real hard.

Addicted to Himesh

Ever since Camera Phones were banned in my account in office because of increased security and because the Client raised concerns over security, I have been constantly taking cognisance of what my senses had to offer and the conscious movement of my mind to a plane about which I was completely unaware of. I don’t know what I am writing! I am in a trance! 😐

So, my beautiful-still-brand-new Motorokr E6 was snatched away from my hands by fate and the mobile landed up in my sis’s lap who was anyways going to buy a new one. Some people are so darn lucky! I had to buy a new “cheap” mobile which was not supposed to have a Camera. It was hard to move back to the stone age but somehow I did it and finally bought a Sony Ericsson’s mobile which atleast had an FM. I had a one GB card in my earlier phone which was choc-a-bloc with songs of my choice but now I was completely and helplessly on the mercy of 91.1, 92.7, 95.0, 93.8, 104.0 blah blah blah. 

The only nightmare I could for-see was being subjected to Himesh’s songs. Believe me, I haven’t listened to a single one completely. Two lines into the song and I get all panicky as my brain cells start revolting and threaten me that they would stop working! I can’t stand that nasal twang and those lung exploding histrionics. But fate, it seems, can’t work without an irony. So, while listening to FM, the first song which I came across was from Karzzzz titled Tandoori Nights. For a second, my mind went completely blank. Who the hell wrote that atrocity anyways???

Surprisingly, I didn’t flick the channel but sat through the whole song(something I still don’t believe I did). And soon I realised that I sorta…….kinda………errrr……. liked it. OK WAIT!! Its not exactly “liked it” but its hard to explain how I felt. It was the same kind of feeling one has when one bite nails or pick nose. You know you are not supposed to do it but you still do it. Its the urge which you can’t stop, can’t control. I don’t know why I sat through it, but I did!

Now a days, I listen to the song almost every day while returning from home because its always there on one channel or another. I feel I am being hypnotised by the song. There is something incredibly incredulously insane about it. Infact, I don’t believe I have written a post about it!! What are my friends going to say when they read this confession? My family is going to debar me….

Know what, we should just pretend that this never happened. I never wrote this post and you never read it. Lets just erase it from our minds. Lets not ever talk about this. Lets this be one of our dirty little secret which we would take to our graves.

Oh!!! They are again playing it on the FM. Have to run and enjoy/love/hate/like/abhor the song. I AM SO CONFUSED! 😐