Go ahead then, fall in love

Firstly, thanks to the few people who said they missed my scribbles. I have been travelling and I’m going to use that as a flimsy excuse for leaving the blog unattended for a long time. This vacation has been special and more educational for me in more ways than one, and emboldened by it, I’m going to dare to write about that complex human emotion, love.  Let me know what you think.

Saraswati Puja, which for all practical purposes has served as Valentine’s Day to those who celebrate it for ages. Saraswati, you see, is the goddess of the arts and education. So her worship is almost entirely the responsibility of students and young people, an excuse for them to dress up and look and feel grown up.

And which young person has ever looked and felt grown up and managed to not lose their heart to someone? 

We’ve all felt that stirring at some point in our lives. I hope for your sake, you have. For if you have not, you don’t know what you’ve missed  and I do feel a little sad for you. On the other hand, if you have, you probably have a treasure trove of memories that you can dwell on in lazy winter afternoons, and smile. Very widely.

 I know I do.

And then I wonder, how did it get so difficult for us to fall in love? And when did we make it so complicated?

I never tire of saying this: I have been very lucky growing up;my parents drilled in the importance of being a good person and to not trick, cheat or knowingly hurt others. Sir taught me that there is beauty in loving and in being loved. He also taught me the importance of evaluating others for what they really are. All basic stuff, all very hard to follow.

If that is too confusing, here’s a simple example. I learnt early on how to choose my friends extremely carefully and love people for what they mean to me. To not automatically seek good looking and rich studs with sexy smiles, for whoever looks at beauty after it has been around for three days?  I swear to god, even SRK got boring on the sets of KBC after the first 15 minutes.

In fact, for a long time in my teens I used to think this is so basic, such a no-brainer, it isn't even worth a mention. And then I moved out of my comfort zone and met new people and kept meeting newer people as life took me from one city to another. Let’s just say I realized how wrong I was.And how lucky I was to have grown up around the people I did.

Combine that realization with some dose of literature and I was tuned to rather fall for people who can actually keep me interested after the newness of that sexy smile wears off. 

It is always nice to learn from other people’s mistakes,even if they are fictitious. If you want to read about some over the top, mad love and be forewarned,  try Wuthering Heights. Or, The Return of the Native. Or Devdas. 

 I can tell you with no iota of doubt that that has not stunted my prospects anywhere, neither has it made me into a lonely soul with no one to turn to in moments of sadness.Quite the contrary. I have friends who have known me for years and love me to death, as I them. How many people can say that without a shred of doubt in their minds?

And no, not all of those bonds were formed in the innocence of childhood, some of them were formed when I was an adult and very much in the thick of all things worldly and blasé. 

So then, how did it really get so difficult for us to fall in love? In our world, Valentine’s Day is Big. I had to wait about 20 extra minutes at Trader Joes on V Day because of traffic : men and women  queuing up with bouquets of flowers. Mostly men, and roses, to be specific.

Don’t get me wrong, I am not at all an evil party pooper. In fact, I quite appreciate the bouquet and dinner and read poems of love at leisure. So, safe to say I am pretty mushy romantic myself. But what I do not still get is when did we start playing by rules so much that it took all the fun out of falling in love? Worst, and I really do think this is the worst of all, how did it get so difficult for people to accept that they love another person? Given it is the right person (one who is not taking advantage of you or is not misleading you. Hence the importance of knowing people for what they really are) , acceptance can bring much more than excitement. It can bring peace. 

My pet joke about the young society in the US is that the national pastime for urbanites here is not baseball anymore. It is “meeting people.” They even call it “networking”. “I go to the bar to network”.  Some people even go to the temple to network. No,seriously. Why can’t it just be called “meeting people because I have nothing in particular to do today in the evening”? It is perfectly fine and accept able and I have done it at times. But “networking”? 

 There are meet up groups and activities and book clubs and hang out groups and so many other ways of “meeting people”, it is quite overwhelming. Society at large joins forces here to make sure no one is ever alone. Only, that does not take care of them being lonely.

Two. Different. Things. I have seen “it” boys and girls in both parts of the world feel scarily lonely and vacant at times, despite all the noise around them. That Deepika Padukone character in Cocktail? Not entirely untrue, though I should really not get started on that movie.

I’ve always had a hard time controlling curiosity and boring bores me to death, so I’ve tried a couple of these meet up/hang out things.

One of them is actually a nice idea: you meet backpackers travelling across the world with buckets full of stories there. Creep alert: there are some, but basic common sense will keep you safe. They also arrange subsidized off-Broadway theatre shows that an outsider like me would never have known of otherwise and also accounted for my first Thanksgiving dinner. Then there are burlesques and naked bike rides and scrabble nights and other things. I can’t/don’t attend most of their events because there is bread and butter to be earned, and because I like my bread and butter to go with some wine, work has to be dealt with.  

I dumped the other group after two meetings. It mostly consisted of young, single people my age with reasonably stable jobs and a choice of three broad conversation openers. “So, what are you doing xxxday?",  “Are you looking for a light”, “Are you Indian?" I told you, boring bores me to death.  I made one friend from these events. Just one.

The few other interesting people I know are not from mass organized events, nor from playing date-poker in my head with all guards up.

I’m a lousy poker player anyway.

I wonder how many have actually met people that they would like to know for life, or for any considerable time, from these places, when you are desperately trying to stick to the rule book in your head? Except for some instances, you are so prone to be judged and scrutinized for so many small and otherwise inconsequential things, it is a miracle people still manage to talk and get each other’s numbers. If they do, that is.

I have been asked so many times why I have gone out with people who are not Adonis lookalikes (“you have better options!”) that it is embarrassing, really. For one, it bothers me to think that there are people who think I could and would choose my company only on the basis of what they wear and how they look. And for the other, I feel sad for those who think like that or do it themselves, and then howl about how they have no real friends or love.

I read recently in an otherwise smartly written column in a magazine that men get exactly one chance at a joke before they lose the woman of their dreams.

Witty men rule my world, but one chance, really? And what do women get?

The same if not worse, if the urban landscape in this country is anything to go by.

It is amazing exactly how critical men, who themselves are not Prince Charmings by any stretch of wild imagination, can be. “I would ask her to dance if she had thinner arms.”

I overheard this, gulped my drink, looked at my reflection and wondered how many people were marking me off right then.

 I get that we are all busy. I get that there are too many creeps out there, both women and men, for us to not have some internal checks in place. I also get the concept of “leagues”. Somewhat. But if rules, that too, those that don’t really make much sense, is what steer us so much, maybe it is time for us to stop crying about “where are the right people we want to fall in love with”?

For you know what? He was right there, but it was a bad day,and he blew his one-time chance at making you laugh. She was just off her gym routine.

It isn't "the times". It is us

Some time back, I was asked what age I would like to be born in, if I could choose. I picked the Renaissance, or India around the 1940s if I were to be bound by geographical limitations.

Yes, I’m the incurable romantic. My choices would have told you that. People like me, who some mistake to be naïve, tend to be swayed by quaint traits and things like “courage”, “chivalry”, “love” and “honour” more than others are. Such people are few to begin with in the first place, and convert rapidly as they hit their 20s and go beyond.

 Which is a good thing, for it won’t do at all to have a world full of romantics tripping over each other, especially as we balance grocery bags up the apartment stairs, or walk on super high heels to get strangers to pick up our tabs. (And yet they often don’t, these strangers!)

And while the world goes round in its rigmarole, the closest we get to any amount of greatness is when we manage to find some time to talk to our grandparents or other elders who have fought a war or survived a communal riot, or talk to the odd friend that chose to stay away from the lure of corporate jobs to work full time with a non-profit organization.

Only the truth is, we don’t “manage to find time”, we deign to. We are busy, you see; mostly working away at jobs that we don't even like.

So, we definitely don’t want more complications in our lives: having to decide what to wear to work or where to get lunch every day is annoying enough. And yes, we will sympathize and be sufficiently respectful when we meet “great men and women”, but that’s all we can do, thank you very much. Truly speaking, by the time the work day ends, we are so drained we can’t even find it in us to click on a link and make a donation towards a worthy cause. Where is the time?

We don’t want goodness; we will not even strive for it, not even give it a tiny shot. Greatness? What is that?

We will not teach our children the importance of being good and doing right by others. We are happy to not interfere, because if no one else is making an issue out of it, why should I? We will not help, love, be friends, just because we can. And honestly, why should we? Have you seen what happens to those that do that kind of stuff? They get passed over for promotions, cheated by friends and are made fun of behind their backs.

Why? Because everyone knows we can’t be good in this day and age. We have to earn money, be petty and manipulative, play power games and generally be dissatisfied in life because at the end of the day, we don’t have one thing that we are genuinely proud of to show. What, didn't you go to college? These just aren't the times!

No, giving away your bus seat to the older woman does not count.  Plus, do we do that regularly out of habit or only when we know we’ll get off in a couple of minutes and don’t care anyway?

But you see, it isn't the times, it is us. While we were busy window shopping or planning our next vacations or debating between the sparkling or still, a young girl of 14 was shot in the head for fighting for her and her friends’ rights to go to school.

She was 11 when the Taliban decided to stop girls in her locality from going to school. Instead of blaming the times and "adjusting" to her new fate, she wrote a blog for the BBC speaking about her life under the new regime, and was eventually shot at as she was returning home after a taking a test.

That happened this week, in these very times, which are not supposed to be meant to produce great or brave men and women.

In another instance, a fragile woman fought for a shot to bring in Democracy in her country, living under house arrest for 15 long years before she could walk freely. That change happened. The Arab Spring also happened.

And for every story we get to know about, there are many others that we don’t, shining examples of doing good in our own neighbourhood or among our friends, who we write off as “idealists”.

Know what? Standing for some ideals isn't that bad a thing. Not everyone can be a Suu Kyi, nor do we even need to be. But I can bet you anything you want (and I have) that none of us are too busy to make a little more effort, be a little more passionate, concerned, involved.

Do we really need to?

That is not for me to answer, for remember, I’m the romantic that still believes in rights and wrongs.

And listens to ghazals and reads shayari with alarming levels of interest.

“Kaise aakash mein suraag nahi ho sakta,
Ek paththar toh tabiyat se uchchalo yaron.”

(Roughly: You say the skies won't part, but have you tried hard enough?)

The place of pride.

   Pride goes before a fall. People love humble men, the gods always do good to them. And the world is the moral science studies version of utopia where the cheat is always punished and the honest boy given top marks.
   I know a lot of young people that are in that important cusp of life where they have to make career choices, and horror of horrors, get enrolled into choice colleges. So much of my conversation in the past couple of months have been about interviews, CV writing and the paraphernalia that go with it.
    And through those conversations, I realized how Indians have an inherent manner of discrediting themselves, or, at least downplaying their achievements (yours truly not exempt from the allegation). It stems from very old traditions and cultural practices that teach how it is not for men to tell others what their achievements are, it is for others to notice. Clearly, they hadn't yet dealt with private firms and bad bosses.
    The premise of those teachings, like all things old and Indian, are very correct, based on the notion that if you do good work, people are bound to take note. But like all things old and Indian, no one has bothered to adapt them to fit into today's life, leaving a generation that either suffers from internal conflict and lose out on jobs because they can't sell themselves right, or go the absolute other way and turn into wind bags that could cause the equivalent of atomic explosions.
    Pride, for most Indians, comes mixed with negativity, often confused with snootiness, disdain or worse, rudeness.
    Pride, if looked upon as a quality in itself, is not necessarily any of those, and when exercised in the right way has the magical way of boosting people's moral and even uplifting careers. I am a wordly girl, and I'm not going to go all esoteric on you. Boosting. Career. You read it right.
    The Oxford English describes pride as "a feeling of deep pleasure or satisfaction derived from one’s own achievements, the achievements of one’s close associates, or from qualities or possessions that are widely admired." Also a pack of lions, but that is not what this post is about.
   I hear the phrase "xyz makes America a great country" thrown into so many daily conversations in real life or on TV, see so many houses proudly host the national flag in their yards, so many bikini clad women wear the stars and stripes happily on the beach it is difficult not be effected by the enthusiasm. I'm not saying hot Indian women should start parading the beach in the Indian tricolor, there is a cultural roadblock to it that does not need to be altered at all.
    But in my years of living in various Indian cities and towns, I have not seen one private residence that has a regular fixture for the national flag. Now that I think about it, I can't even recall any big mounting or presence of the tricolor in even the new, jazzy, international airport at New Delhi. That airport also does not have a bookstore, though it has a Chanel store I think. It naturally devastated me and upset my travel plans a bit, mostly because I can't afford to buy Chanel off the cuff, but then to be fair, when did the world promise me no devastation or upsets?
    In retrospect, for every genuine "I love my country and I am proud of its rich and varied heritage" I've heard, the sarcasm and belittling has exceeded it by ten fold, with the intellenstia having sought refuge to the all encompassing "what can we do? This decline can't be helped." Of course it can't, because no one, including you, is doing anything about it. And when I say you, I mean you, unless you are doing something about it. Which I very much doubt.
    We love to live in a bubble of inverted understanding  where not reading or knowing about the Mahabharata or Gita is decidedly cool, though one can read the Iliad or Odyssey. Or wait, not read at all. Who needs books when you can buy clothes, right?
    We will not learn about politics or economics from Chanakya, but we will pay a lot of money for subscriptions to the Wall Street Journal or The Economist, we will not practice or experiment with sex like they did in the days of  Vyasdev or Kalidas, but we will watch Sunny Leone and Kim Kardashian on T.V.
     And lotus eaters that we are, not knowing the gayatri mantra or the national pledge is totally ok with us, though we can recognise strains of the "The star spangled banner" from 50 feet away. The star what, did you ask? Oh well.
 Also, I am not ready to tow your line if you say "but I am proud, I just don't show it."
 Here's why.  Once upon a time, a diffident young girl had asked the monk who frequented her house why it was necessary to worship god at all if He was everywhere anyway. The monk asked her if she had a boyfriend or had a crush. The wise man then said, like all relationships we build with other men, the relationship we build with god is also a two way traffic. It needs nurturing, and it needs some external manifestation to let the other party know you are interested. "If you just keep the fact that you like this guy to yourself, will you ever have a relationship?  How will he ever know, and how will he ever get a chance to reciprocate? We all need to express ourselves, more for our sakes than for others."
 I've never forgotten that reply, and though  I won't claim to have followed it to the T always, I know from personal experience that I've been better off when I have. God, country, boyfriend, teacher, friend, spouse: all relationships and bonds need attention and  some outward show of affection at some point. Unless you are Bruce Almighty and can communicate directly with the powers that be. But look how that turned out!
    Moral fibre, that will-o-the wispy stuff that differentiates real men from the multitude, often goes hand in hand with a sense of knowing and being comfortable with  oneself, which in turn comes from a sense of pride in one's achievements. Or so one hopes. If you are a latent wife beater/rapist/cheat/murderer, none of this applies to you. (I am hoping no active any of those mentioned is reading this post).
    One does not really need to compare countries and continents to see the difference.
    I felt it the most when I was graduating. I can proudly say the college I attended is still counted (like it has been for the past 100 years I think) among the 10 best colleges in India. Note: there is justification that goes along with pride. In India, where millions graduate each year, it is not an easy job finding a place in the college of your choice. Or finding a place at all, for that matter, unless you can buy your way in, of course.
    I've been to three different educational institutions, but till this day, when someone asks me "where did you study", I say I graduated from this college. One reason for that is that graduation is the most relevant while judging a person's education in India; anything you did before that is too insignificant and anything beyond too erudite.
    But I suspect the real reson is that that was the one instutute which drilled into me a sense of pride of being associated with it. I can see that pattern repeated in countless other students from other similar esteemed schools and colleges. There is often resulting cockiness; the by-product that makes it a dangerous proposition, but the confidence does the kids a world of good. It is a deciding factor in many a group discussion and interview where these "smart" kids talk their way to the coveted colleges or jobs, while others flounder.
    I now see the same pattern repeated later in life, where "docile Asians" have complained about being pushed over by "more aggressive Americans". Asians (I can and do vouch for Indians at least) can and often are as aggresive and volatile as Americans if need be . But Indians are yet to shake off their colonial hangover entirely-- everyone from Gandhi to Mark Tully will side with me on this-- so we lose half the battle in our minds because we are yet to feel decidedly confident about who we are and what we can achieve. Nevermind countless examples to prove the fact. And till we do that, we will never be truly proud of who we are. Not the MBA'd executive, not the H1B visa holder, nor the server at Cafe Mondegar who will categorically give you the cold shoulder till his white guests have been tended to.
    Those of who are,  face no trouble in navigating colleagues and others in any part of the world at any time.
I'm no big fan of her works,  but Jane Austen, that self styled feminist that made so many of us drool over a certain Darcy, has a very lucid explanation of what consists pride and what does not. Vanity and pride are different things, though the words are often used synonymously. A person may be proud without being vain. Pride relates more to our opinion of ourselves; vanity, to what we would have others think of us," she says through the otherwise uninspiring character of Mary.
    Be proud, not vain.  Or if you are, be sure not to use this blog as an excuse.

Reporters are not superheroes, though many try and a few do come close

There is outrage, and there is fear. And there is that sickening, nauseating feeling that comes from knowing that despite being advanced enough to unearth the secrets of how the universe came into being, we still live in a world where a school girl can be mobbed, stripped and molested, just because.

 And then, there is a lot of blaming people, mostly of the media. I’ll take a detour from my usual policy of not mixing work and blogging today, because a wise man once said desperate times call for desperate measures. And though this will not amount to an apocalypse for most, I am frustrated enough in my head to bend my own rules and write about it. I’m a little weird like that, the rules in my own head are the only ones I usually find worth sticking to.

My first memory of mass scale blaming of the media is that of a cricket match in India, presumably an international series, which had to be rescheduled because some miscreants dug up holes on the pitch. My memory fails me, but I think it was seen as an attempt to upset the always inflammable Indo-Pak relationship. The next day, a national daily ran a picture of  what looked like two people in the act of digging up the pitch. I am rusty on details, but the point is, I still clearly remember the outrage it generated. “So the photographer just stood there and took shots?” “He could have stopped this game from being rescheduled!”

And I remember, even back then, thinking “well, the photographer was doing his job. It is not his duty to guard the venue of an important match, where was security?”

Of course, life is more easily categorized as black and white and it is far more easy to made judgment calls when you are a pre-teen, blissfully unaware of the jokes our father in heaven can play on us. Twenty seven years of dealing with his pranks have taught me better. Or, enough to have long moved away from that mental high pedestal that lets people judge others.  

Today, my Facebook page is peppered with angry comments from people speaking out against the appalling and downright sick (fine, I just judged, but in this context do you blame me? If you do, I’m not sure you and I will ever be on the same page) molestation of the teenager in India’s far eastern city of Guwahati. And, along with those expressions of angst, I see the inevitable “so the reporter just stood there and shot?” 

As a member of that larger community, despite all trainings in objectivity, it is difficult not to be affected.

Some professions in the world come with more moral responsibility than others. It is one of those things that have no end in cold logic, but that make the world an easier place to live in. Teachers, doctors, lawyers, politicians (yeah ok, I know my list is becoming a joke now) and the fourth estate more than, say engineers, bankers or marketing executives.  I, of course, mean no disrespect towards the last three professions. If you want to be difficult and nitpick about that, save it for later please? I promise I'll entertain you then.

Right now, let’s deal with the issue of “so the reporter just stood and shot?”

Journalism, as far as I can tell, is not a career that happens to people by default. Unlike doctors, engineers lawyers and even actors, parents do not bring up kids with the aim of becoming journalists. They don’t study hard because they have to become a successful reporter. So, for most of us, it is a conscious decision, a choice we make because we feel some passion, love and respect for what we do. There will be good men and bad men in every turn, nook and cranny of life, and the profession is not an exception. It can’t be, I’m writing this blog under the presumption that my current reader set is beyond such naiveté.

So while the world gets ready to draw blood from the reporter that caused err what did he cause exactly? Brought out to the world a case of gross misconduct and violation of personal rights?

I can already hear all the questions you are mentally hurling at me (I’ll sift through the abuses) and will try and deal with some as best as I can. Of course, this is all from my very limited understanding of life, people and the profession. I have no claims of greatness in any of those departments, but I’ve known some fine people who’ve excelled in all, who’ve been inspirations and anchors in life.

So the reporter shot. I have said this before and I’ll say it again. A reporter is not a superman. He cannot tackle a mob of 50 odd rapacious men by himself, just like anybody else. If we could do it, we would stop wars with our presence, instead of reporting on them. Trust me, there is more blood, gore, and violations of all kinds that go on in a strife torn area. In fact, you’d be surprised how much of it goes on in rural India and other countries across the world in everyday life, and the only ones we know of is because some reporter, somewhere, took up his pen or camera and told us the story.

I do not know what exactly went on in front of that Guwahati bar, but I’m picturing this. A reporter finds himself at a mob site, and it is obvious to him he can’t stop it. Come on, even Salman Khan can’t take on so many frustrated men intent on preying on a girl by himself. Oh but wait, he can. This is exactly when I wish life was more of a movie with heroes a possibility. Anyway, so the reporter, unable to stop the mob, does the next best thing he knows to do. He picks up his pen (here, a camera) and reports on it. And despite running the risk of sounding extremely callous, I’ll still say this. Because the video is out there, we know who these miscreants are. In a society like India, I can guarantee you no one would have offered any help by way of witness if that bit of evidence was not available.

I’ll ask you a simple question. If the video wasn’t around and you were an onlooker and were asked to offer eyewitness evidence the next day, would you volunteer? Don’t answer me, but I think you would do yourself a favour in answering it honestly to yourself.

  

Some of my Assamese friends, who know the area, have said the reporter was sloppy in finding help. That his office was a mere two minutes walk from the scene of the mob and that reporters in that part of the world have enough clout to stop something like this with a shout out. Again, I can’t tell what exactly happened, and if it is true that he could have stopped it and didn’t, I’d be ashamed for him and the community. This might be a conflict, but I’m not objective to that extent. If I can stop a rape/murder/accident, I’d do that over reporting it. But if I can’t, that’s the next best thing I’d do. Write about it, oppose it, and make people sit up and realize what has gone wrong.

After all, isn’t that better than looking away, not stopping your car/bike to help the victim, going home, watch the video on youtube and then call the media the wolf?

But I must say I’ve my doubts on how much pull even a respected reporter has in a mob scene gone wild.

Most reporters, like most other people in other careers, are mediocre, lazy and like the good life. But I think our choice of profession makes that little voice at the back of our heads more vocal than in others.  And then it depends on the individual to choose whether they’ll listen to it, or not. The voice, you see, makes no claim at physical subjugation.

We are not superheroes, but we do try when given a chance. Be it a Daniel Pearl, a Jyoti Dey, a Bob Woodward, or the young Tarun Sehrawat.  

Aamir Khan, the truth and his handling of it.

Satyamev Jayate, in my opinion, is the best thing that has happened to Indian television in a long long time.  Despite having seen enough to support the contrary, I remain a firm believer in giving people a chance in any attempt to make a difference for the better.

And chance did Mr. Khan have, till he went overboard and spoiled it all in the latest episode, raging against pesticides and ordaining, without much statistical backing, that all inorganically grown food items are substitutes for poison. Which they might be, but my gripe is in how Khan and his team handled the episode and in his dangerous flirting with being the modern television equivalent of the khap panchayats that he so ridiculed in one episode. Plus, it is taking me all my willpower to not go on a detour on Coca Cola and his endorsement of it.

The show was poorly researched and badly presented, unlike anything they’ve produced till now. Khan, in his agony-aunt-cum-messiah-rolled-into-one avatar has spoken about female infanticide, caste and class struggles,  domestic violence, child molestation, the problems of the handicapped in India and the rotting of the health sector (oh America, you have company).  And he has been armed by his research team well enough to hold largely sensible and fair discussions. But then on Sunday, they moved away from concepts that are directly linked to human emotions.

The killing of lovers for caste incompatibility or hubris, killing a girl child, mistreating handicaps and beating up women in the household can all be broadly, and correctly, categorized as WRONG by all men (ok, and women) with any compunction.  The use of pesticides, on the other hand, is a little more complicated than that. It is a scientific invention, has helped India achieve its only “revolution” of a broad scale (please Google for reference), and like most good things in the world, has been misused to the point where they are now largely believed to be doing more bad than good.

Fair point, but is that what the show showed? No. Slipping into disappointing mediocrity, the show had already made up its mind on what its outcome would be and played around with its participants to reach that end. The format requires Khan to play part journalist, interrogating and asking difficult questions.. 

Well, journalism 101: you never, ever decide on your story’s outcome before you’ve given all parties an equal chance to speak.  And if your reporting changes your initial hypothesis, so be it. Any basic journalism course will teach you that.

Khan brought in the CEO of Asia’s largest pesticide company in an attempt to make it look fair. And then in a great show of being the professional he is reputed to be, he guffawed while he spoke. Then to make it worse, he took advantage of the fact that his interviewee was not as stage savvy as others, and kept cutting him in mid sentence till Bollywood’s most intellectual Khan, bolstered by canned laughter, thought he had proven his point such that there cannot be any further room for debate. Reality check: that never happens, unless you are proving a scientific theorem, and  people are now challenging E=MC2 too.

The man’s efforts to make his point (whether he was right or wrong is not of importance here) —that pesticides sprayed in regulated amounts can do no harm, or that there have also been considerable health risks from organic produce were summarily dismissed.  No attempts to counter them with logic, facts or figures at all.

Satyamev Jayate is a bold effort—one that has me hooked from half way across the world. It has a good agenda, is thought provoking, and is educational for a big part of the population, if not for all. Provided its compere can hold on to just being that. Khan showed us sensible television can co-exist with the Kardashians.  It is a great show, and the price of greatness is responsibility. I didn’t say that, Churchill did. And he should know. 

Why I Facebook

Mark Zuckerberg’s brain child now has more than 900 million monthly active users, and chances are it is there that you found this post as well.
900 million—an article I recently read said if that were a country, it would be the third most populous! At least, that is what the latest stats say.
For more details you can always Google the latest news stories or check their filings if you are that fastidious. Or else, you can just trust me and go with it! I won’t link a news article to this blog. Reason one being I think if you are curious enough, you’ll Google it. Reason two, I try to keep my work and blog posts as far separated as possible. As a reporter, I don’t opinionate. As a blogger, that’s all I do.
Well like with anything else, once the first blast of news is done hitting you in the face, people discuss it, and some, even in this day and age, actually try and attempt to go beyond the stats to understand what it means to the everyday man. Don’t pick on me for not saying “woman”, I am not your nitpicking, irritating-to-everyone-else-but-their-own-closed-group kind of feminist and I do have something of a dislike for them.
Anyhow, when some people I know asked me why I Facebook, and presented their ideas on why people should not, it obviously got me thinking.
Here’s this immensely popular social networking tool that seems to have made the world a much much smaller and well connected place than was thought possible. And yet, here are some otherwise very logical, thinking individuals who vehemently oppose its popularity and think it is rotting society in some way. In fact, I also saw billboards inviting people to attend a session titled “is social network making us unsocial?” at the Red line train stop.
I have no desire or will to go and attend that session, but think it’ll be fun to hazard a guess on what the non FB-ing intelligentsia’s problems with the lesser mortals are.
What will be the obvious complaints? “Kids” are always on their phones, FB-ing. Now I am your average working girl with no claims to anything extraordinary, so quite obviously I’m totally in with the multitude. I’m almost always on FB, I have my Blackberry to thank for that, and I have a clinical urge to respond to messages and posts addressed to me. Just like with emails.
And I would like to think it stems from some sense of courtesy. When people talk to you, or ask you something, or include you in a conversation, you respond. If you do not want to, you say “I don’t want to”, or “I think you are a moron, so leave me out of this”, but you still respond. Basic good manners, I say.
That and a bunch of other stuff like my daughter does not talk to me because of FB, I got hit by a truck because I was poking someone etc etc.
Well, here is the thing.
Your daughter does not talk to you because she thinks you are immensely boring, and because you have nothing interesting to say to her that will hold her imagination. Don’t blame it on FB. Don’t blame it on anything, really, other than yourself, because if you had that bond with your kid, s/he would respond. They still do talk to their friends, don’t they? Or to the “cool” teacher from school who is everyone’s favorite? Or the neighbourhood aunt/uncle all the kids love.
You get my drift? Trust me, if there was no FB, the kid would hide in a book, phone, or in anything that could rescue her if she has decided to give you the cold shoulder. The problem lies deeper than that, fix it.
And of course, if you got hit by a truck because you were poking/ commenting while on the road, you are plain stupid. No other words there. If there is one thing that we owe to ourselves, it is to be careful about what can hurt us and what is OK. That you still haven’t been able to figure it out, or are unable to teach your ward the rights and wrongs of life are hardly Zuckerberg’s fault. Just like when my class mate in junior school crashed with his motorcycle, it wasn’t Gottlieb Daimler’s fault.
Oh yeah, my mind has collected enough useless trivia over the years, as I realize intermittently.
Blame the addiction to reading. I remember, as a very young kid I even read the back of the shampoo bottle while my mom would wash my hair. Till she decided to ask me to stop it because I would get shampoo in my eyes while reading and the strange redness would creep her out. I would also cry sometimes, depending on the intensity of the wash.
But I deviate (hey, my blog, my memories!) and I’m sure no one finds an account of a precocious baby getting her hair washed that captivating. So, let’s return to my point.
Which is that, I think most of the so called problems that FB and other social networking sites have given us are really allegations that we can easily ignore. Indeed, if we are honest enough, we might even accept our own shortcomings here and agree that these sites are really not the villains they are often made out to be.
There is only this one “crime” charge that I am not sure I can totally defend social networking from. That of creating shallow bonds and making us lazy. And, of encouraging very bad use of grammar and language. OK, so that makes it more than one. But let me try.
My use of FB grew tremendously in 2010, when I was away from India for the first time, and was phoneless for about a week. FB was an easy and accessible way of keeping in touch with friends and family, and it helped them to know that I was safe and not dead/robbed/raped/dying/sick in some foreign country.
I have kept at it since, and have found many, many long lost friends and acquaintances through it.
One of those people I mentioned among the anti-FB group avoids social networking studiously because that person believes if someone really wants to talk, or cares enough, they will find a way to get in touch without help from a poke/tweet/comment. And say something meaningful in the process. It is a great thought, and as someone who loves reading long emails that are NOT forwards, I totally understand that demand.
But here’s my counter argument. If I really want you in my life, I will definitely find a way. But does it prove anything when you make my attempts more difficult by avoiding a popular platform that could make you more accessible to me?
And what guarantees that the people that do manage to connect with me beyond the shallow “likes” will, in fact write or say anything that is more meaningful?
I once had a teacher who was brave enough to encourage discussion in class. Not a common trait among people anywhere and less likely when your paycheck depends on finishing a syllabus that no one really cares about.
I learnt from him how important it is to hear other people out, and to try and give everyone a fair chance. It might not be the most perfect platform, but I would like to say social media does it. The number of arguments, discussions, conversations I’ve personally had on FB over countless issues that touch our daily lives is proof in itself.
All shallow, you say? How many people in your friends list do you really know about, you ask? Not all, sure. Do I want to be best friends with the girl from school I reconnected with after more than a decade? No. But do I still want to keep in touch and exchange occasional snippets of our lives and share her happiness when she puts up wedding pictures on her wall? Yes!
Would this be possible in an age before FB (or any other social media that you like, but 900 million commands respect. If you haven’t already figured, I’m using FB as the generic term for social media here. Like “Xerox” and “Maggi”)? Having lived in that world, I think we’ll all agree and say “no”.
So shallow bonds with many notwithstanding, it really helps to communicate. And you never know when an acquaintance becomes a good friend, right?
Now the bit about making us lazy—that people would rather wish friends ”happy birthday” on FB and comment on walls than pick up the phone and make it more special. And that people do not remember birthdays unless it is on your calendar.
Guilty as charged. I have done that at times, and I know it is not a good excuse to say I was tired and it was the middle of the night for my friend. But how about this—thanks to the websites, I could at least let my friend know that I tried but was not able to get through, when that was the case. Better than getting lost in a hole of non-communication, no?
So that leaves us with the bad grammar and bad language charge.
*I surrender*

Sex is not such a bad thing. And neither are strip clubs

There, do I have your attention now? Good, because the rest of this entry is about algebra.

    Hah, got you!

    Why I'm writing again is because I visited a strip club last week. Not my first visit, may I add, but being there as a customer is definitely nothing like being there as a reporter who's trying to be all business-like.

    Because for starters, I could actually stare. And second, I could get out when I wanted to.

    So that was that, and apart from the initial 10 minutes of ickiness, we all eased into the ambience pretty well, and was at home enough to compliment a dancer on her shoes, and reject a lap dance.

    And no, I'm not going to give you a blow by blow account of their routines. You get your own trip for that. Or read Savita Bhabhi or whatever. Basically, look elsewhere because what I would actually want to do here is make some observations, as always.

    1. Didn't Bernard Shaw ask whoever looks at beauty when it's been around for three days? Make it 30 minutes. The rule still holds, and equally well for everything from the nice painting you paid a bomb for, to SRK (yeah I met him once when I was in college) to naked women. None of us said the experience was life altering, all captivating, or even that big a deal. And yes that includes the man in the group. His wife appreciated the lingerie, my other friend liked how fit the dancers were and I, well, complimented one girl on her shoes.

    2. When I was over the gaping, I noted how controlled the environment was in the lounge/bar. Not one person misbehaving, not one unwanted or unsolicited comment or even gaze. If you want some action, you pay and you get it. If you don't, no one will bother you. One might argue that the big bouncers have that effect on people, but hey, it is a dark room and the bouncers aren't everywhere. Plus, the men who were getting dances were not allowed to touch the girls, and I actually saw one poor person's hands go up and then him willing them back on the couch. Couldn't help but feel bad for him, poor bloke. I really did think it comes from people trying to behave by themselves. I mean if external control stopped men and women from misbehaving, why would we have weirdoes touching themselves in a crowded bus?

    3. Which brings me to the real reason why I am writing this. Sex and sexuality is so very oppressed in the society I come from, it is really ridiculous. And it is refreshing to see a change from my norm. And this extends way beyond strip clubs into everyday living.

     Most Asian families I know behave like the very concept of sex does not even exist, and yet we give birth to more and more children every passing year. I mean sure I am happy that society has cast some rules that people are expected to follow.

    A free rein sounds cool, but think about it-- would you like to be the person who is not really sure of who your father is, just because no one can tell? Call me a prude, but I like to know where I come from. I also like the fact that I get to decide who I want to be with, and no one has the right to force/persuade me if I don't want them. And that in the current social framework, all sensible men accept that. Or I've just been lucky.

    But does that mean we turn a total blind eye to the very fact that men and women have some urges and that it is needed that they satisfy some of it? Mostly to stop them from turning  to be weirdoes that get kicks from throwing themselves at random strangers in public areas?

    Think about that man I just described at the bar. That he could freely walk in and buy his dance probably saved New York City one sexual offender.

    And what is the other option anyway? Fine, we as Indians (my favorite sample, because I know us the best) won't accept that our children have any physical desires, so we don't allow "dates" and if we are really that stuck up, we don't even allow free mingling of both sexes. Do we even look around us?

    Each public park that I have been to in India is a make-out spot for teenagers and sadly, even older people to various degrees and at different times of the day. We are generally still not at home with kissing in public, but we accept the fact that grown men and women can slip their hands inside each other's clothes at places where children can watch, under the safety net of an umbrella. An umbrella!

     I appreciate cultural differences, and I subscribe to the idea of not everyone needs to be "Westernised". But why is it that while we have no trouble accepting Coca Cola, mini skirts, Hollywood movies and even foreign accents, we can't man up and accept this one true fact of life? One of us did write the Kamasutra, did he not?

    I have seen parents being extremely protective about their children-- no boys/girls, no late nights, no sleepovers, no nothing. And I know for a fact that ALL of those protected children have consistently done all of it, but without telling their parents.

    Or, the one chance they could try out "freedom", they went totally overboard leaving the rest of us to clean up after them. Literally and metaphorically. Concept of freedom lost, and concept of self restraint totally done away with. Not funny. Especially since these very boys and girls grow up to be men and women and still do the same. Why else would 50 year old men throw up after drinking too much at parties? Most people across the world would agree that the throwing up stage comes and goes with your teens.

     At 50, or for that matter even at 30, you need to know how to hold your drink. Or how to control your hand that "slips" below your lady dancing partner's waist or rubs against her in such a way that you can't tell if if was deliberate or not. Why do people do that? Here are my guesses:

    A. Because they do not know that there is another way of propositioning. That you can actually talk about it without being sleazy.

    B. Because how can you ask! It is so "isss chee chee". Or because even if one did ask, there are very few people that will say "at least s/he was upfront and respected my decision of going with it/not going with it." Most will say "OMG, can you believe what s/he did?" And the honest person gets branded a philanderer for life. So let us just molest each other and pretend nothing happened.

                                                                             

    From what I understand, on a deeper level, this culture of having a fake respectability also breeds a more dangerous culture of lying. I mean, because most parents won't say "yes, I am ok that you have a boyfriend at 16" even if they are and even if they know it is really normal, in a twisted manner, they force their children to lie.

    Were you with that girl? No mama. Is aunty lying? Maybe mama. Where were you? In the coaching class that was never actually scheduled for that day and so on and so forth till meddlesome local boys find the young kids fornicating under the slide in the park and raise hell. 

    The park keeps coming back, sorry about that.

    Wouldn't you rather these kids had some chance at normal mingling under some supervision than be forced to hide in dark alleys? I know a 8 year old that was introduced to pornography by a 13 something year old. In India, in a decent, bhadralok middleclass environment. So the naiveté of "our children are not like that" is lost on me. Every children is like that, ignore the English.

    Having siblings and cousins that are as much as 15 years younger has its benefits-- I am unusually up to date on the latest in teen and tween town. And take my word for it: 14 and above year olds in mid to big cities in India not only have sex, smoke, and generally do whatever their parents think can never be done, they also do it under the constant pressure of not letting people find out. Which equals to lying 24 X 7.

    (I add my usual caveat here: not everyone does it, and I did not conduct an official poll. But I do know that the percentage is rising, through first hand accounts and anecdotes.)

    You think I am exaggerating? I am not.

    Now give me the argument that not having any control or rules will only create a mess of everyone. Yes, I agree, but the point never was to do away with all kinds of rules and regulations. The point is to do away with rules that are so far removed from reality that you would think those who come up with them never lived on planet Earth as we know it.

     So do I have to sleep with someone just because they want it, because we are cool like that, and society won't disapprove and/or I want to one-up them? Hell no.

    But should people be able to do it if/when they both want to without fearing the collective raised eyebrows of everyone they knowl? "Yes" seems to be the only logical answer, does it not?

And that begs the question: is it so bad then, to pay for it? 

Mind your Ps and Qs

    Of the many things that Indians have to adjust to in this country, one of the most difficult is understanding and maintaining the standards of propriety in daily living.
    I said in my last post that there is great respect for people and their work in this country.
    I have noticed almost without exception, tenants talk to the building boy the same way they talk to their neighbours and all human labor-- from your carpenter, to house cleaning, to whatyoumayhave is extremely expensive.
    A simple translation is: "you are using my skill set, so you had better appreciate it. No one is stopping you from cleaning your house yourself, or mending your bathroom sink, but if you want my help, you pay. And that does not make me a lesser person than you."
    (most)People in this country think like that, so the regular cleaner is often asked to join for a drink after work, and also tipped while at work.
    However, years of practising this has extended this well measured cordiality to such extremes that one has to be blind not to notice the plasticity in the entire scheme of things.
    Commuters on a bus at 6 in the morning wish and greet the bus driver on the way out. I know, because I take that bus everyday (yes, I wake up that early.) Sounds good, but before long, I was forced to wonder if every single person in the bus is actually grateful that the bus driver is doing her duty, or it is just a reaction mechanism?
    I took a closer look at those people, and realised that none of them were even looking at the driver when they said thanks, and neither did the driver. People just go through the mechanism because that is the way they have grown up.
    Just like people in India do not even think of greeting the bus driver on the way out because that is the way they have known.
    It IS a reaction mechanism. I don't blame anyone. No one can be that bright and cheery everyday so early in the morning, but then the natural question is, why make yourself to do it?
    And I will preempt you and say this here. A fake greeting is probably better than the stand offishness drivers and other blue collar job holders get from the rest of us back home, but what gets to me at times is when that falseness creeps into all aspects of life, and somehow makes it difficult for people to interact.
    People here may be friends, but they formally check with each other every single time they make any small decision or move. For example, my Indian friends would think nothing of taking a bottle of water from my desk for themselves if they need it, or sharing my food.
    My American friends will. Actually, most won't even ask, because they do not think it is nice or courteous to ask me to share something I bought with my money.
   Now when it comes to my pricey stilettos, makeup or even wine, I appreciate that mentality like every other urban, educated, working friend or acquaintance back home.
   But I doubt people can take it beyond that to everyday living without some kind of a hit. Manners practiced in extremes does have a way of draining you out.
    In this case, it is easily noticeable that it is more difficult for a person here to let others in than in India.
    There are so many "rules" to follow, that natural interaction is almost always stunted, because you are busy keeping a mental tab of the dos and don'ts.
    A friend who has lived in this country for some six odd years, had a date the other day and was describing it to me.
    "You have to keep note of all the rules, especially if it is a first date, because otherwise you will be cast as a 'type'."
    This is so well ingrained in society here that people practice it subconsciously-- you are a cat person or a dog person, you are an icecream person or a chocolate person, you are a trousers person or a skirt person.
    Difficult for someone like me, who dislikes both cats and dogs and wears trousers or skirts depending on what ironed top is avaliable to go with it.
    True, I like chocolates and have no great love for icecreams, but I dare you to stereotype me for it!
    Rules were always meant to help people, not turn them into zombies. A Delhi and a Calcutta can probably do well with following the rules of the road, which say bus stops are the places where the bus should actually stop.
    But if it is an emergency, sure, go ahead and stop it at the first convenient spot.
    Not so easy here. I had gone out for dinner one day when on the way back, it started snowing. We saw an empty bus in an empty street waiting at the light, and a friend asked if we could be taken in and saved from the snow. The driver said no, waited for the lights to turn green, and then stopped at the bus stop that was less than 3 feet away.
   Sure, me caught without a hat and gloves in the snow may not exactly make it as an "emergency" (I will give in to that argument, thought trust me, it felt very much like an emergency to me), but that somehow mirrors society here in its obsession with rules.
   There is this other anecdote that comes to mind. Someone I know had to recently call NYPD after he found a fellow student and roommate in such a state of waste it was difficult to figure what he had taken.
    In his words: "the guy is unconscious and retching, but because NYPD cannot touch him physically without a fair warning, they keep asking XYZ,  to please cooperate."
    Apparently after 3 such questions which were obviously met with no answers, my friend and his other pals butted in to assure the cops/paramedics that it was ok to lift him and do what it takes to take him to the hospital.
   You see what I mean?