Angel on a rainy night

 Dear Reader,

Today I am going to share the story that inspired me to start writing and to share stories. I wanted this to be my first story. For some reason I kept dragging it until I wrote my first post of this blog. I guess, I wanted to get started and write something quick instead of procrastinating for another bunch of years. It's been about fourteen years since then. The memory keeps popping in every now n then, I make a note of  doing justice to the story, but I keep getting distracted.  It feels strange to me  how long the story stayed with me.

Any way, here it goes. 

I think it was the year of 2008. I was new in Chennai with my first job, figuring out my ways in the big metro city and its rough-n-tough life, particularly the metro bus system. I would travel to work from Ponni Amman Koil, an area in the city outskirts, to Guindy, the central industrial area via Sholinganallur. I would mostly ride a bus number 575. It was a long, hectic and often jerky ride. The bus would arrive at my bus stop at unpredictable times. But for a long period that was my best option. In the crowded and overloaded bus with all the yelling, push-n-shove, shouts for tickets and coin exchange, I would often notice a conductor. He would be managing the whole thing beautifully, with a super quiet and calm attitude, something I can now call "zen-like". I would wonder, "Being a bus conductor is such a hard job! How does he manage it so well?" 

At night, I would return home on 575 as well. Gradually, responsibilities at work kept increasing, and I started leaving work at later and later hours. On one of these nights, the bus did not stop at Ponni Amman Koil on my way back. I had to shout at the driver in order to alert them. Even though the driver stopped the bus to let me out, they warned me that this bus is an express bus and hence is not supposed to stop at a small bus stop like Ponni Amman Koil, and that I should get down at Shollinganallur and take a shared auto-rickshaw (auto rickshaws for multiple passengers). My attempts to argue about the fact that I used to get down at Ponni Amman Koil all the time until then, did not work at all. Any way, after that night, I begrudgingly rode on a shared auto rickshaw between Sholinganallur and Ponni Amman Koil on most nights.

Soon it was winter in Chennai, and time for late monsoon rains. It was annoying how a city that had a few tiny rivers which were converted into sewage channels, would get flooded with just one shower of rain. The rapid road constructions would leave no room for rain water to escape due to lack of planning for drainage. Water would  remain logged for long time once it started raining. One night when it was pouring cats and dogs, I got into 575.  I was worried about having to get down at Shollinganallur and ride in the uncomfortable shared auto-rickshaws. When the bus reached at Sholinganallur though, the conductor quietly instructed me to wait until the next stop, that is, Ponni Amman Koil. When the bus approached Ponni Amman Koil, he blew a soft whistle indicating the driver to stop the bus. I got down after thanking the conductor. This was the same zen-like man, by the way. He did not have to do it. None of the other conductors did it. But he saved me from lot of trouble and fear that night. It seemed as if he was an angel sent to watch over me that night.

Even though I continued riding on that bus for many more months after that, I never got to see him again. Now, I don't remember many details of his features any more. But I remember a silhouette of him, an essence of cool air surrounding him instilling a sense of calmness. Even though I did not finish writing this story for a long time, the memory did not fade away completely. Some day, some where, some how, some thing would happen and it would trigger this memory and I would thank the conductor and hope that the Universe will send my gratitude towards him.

One night, I was scrolling through Instagram and came across this post from the Instagram handle @wordporm:

Some stranger somewhere 

still remembers you because 

you were kind to them

 when no one else was.

 

It reminded me of him, the conductor. Since then, the thought stubbornly stayed with me, so much so that one night I got out of bed even after a long tiring journey and stayed up to jot it all down and my first draft was ready. But procrastination hit again, and it took me another two years to get back to it and share it.

Even though fourteen years late, I am happy and grateful that the story stayed with me until now, and that it trusted in my heart to give it a shape and share it out there one day. I hope Universe is conveying my thanks to him and giving him back in many-folds what he has given to me.

Thank you, my angel in the rainy night!

 

my crude take on struggles of feminism: USA vs India

Yesterday, I had to rush to somewhere, so I took a cab for a short distance. The cab driver was Kenyan and seemed to be a gentleman. I have observed that my conversations with the cab drivers with middle-eastern or African origin tend to start with them saying, "Are you Indian?" (I can almost hear them saying it.) and the conversation flows from there. He did educate me about the history of Indian immigration in Kenya apart from discussing about Seattle weather, places in America, and immigrant life. As the discussion casually meandered through different topics, he said, and I am quoting here to the best of my memory, "You know, I have observed that in America, women are really in a fight against men, but that is not the case in other places." I did not have an answer to that. At the same time, I had arrived at my destination, so I had to get down. But the last piece of conversation lingered behind.

Now if we come to think of it, why is it so, really? I have not gathered enough information or evidence regarding this to come to a strong conclusion.

It is true that India is much more misogynist as a society, and more open and unapologetic about it. A woman has to fight it in so many complex layers. It is also true that there are outright vocal groups like Gulab gang taking strong aggressive actions against misogyny. On the other hand, I do feel safer in USA than India. Many Indian women have shared the opinion that safety is one of the most important reasons for them staying back in USA. It's true that when I am in bus, I do not think twice before taking a seat next to a man, whereas in India I would be in utter panic throughout the time if I had to. When I am interacting with men, I do not find them staring at my boobs and be unapologetic about it. I walk around after dark much more comfortably not worrying about my life. 

Yet something is fundamentally missing here. I do realise that there is a strong lack of female role models here. In India, we have a lot of role models to follow starting from strong female leaders, and strong females in family such as mothers and grandmothers playing the role of matriarchs. Women in these roles are admired by people from both genders. I think American society is missing that. While there is a lot of talk and awareness about feminism, women empowerment, certainly more than India, it somehow does not seem to be enough. There is a negative attitude like ridicule, and dismissal, to a point where a woman will almost end up questioning her own experiences.

Despite all the misogyny in all different levels in India, I was never dismissed as a person. I never found my voice drowning in noise. Here I do see that tendency to dismiss. One has to put extra effort to make people to realize that "I exist", "I have an opinion that matters". For a long time, I thought it may have to do with my own personality, but when I shared with other women, I realized it is a battle everyone is fighting in their own different way.

I agree, I need to dig deeper to understand this attitude of American society. Still, I can firmly say that the advantage of Indian society is that the misogyny women experience in India is blatant, bare, and right in front of us. So every women is strongly aware of it. She knows who is her enemy and what it looks like. Although the complexity and nuanced nature of the issue imposes a big challenge, it does help us women to make a conscious or subconscious choice between whether to deal with it, or fight it; be vocal about it, or let our actions speak. 

In USA, strict law and order system, and perhaps some social norms ( that I am not aware about yet) ensures women's safety and general respect. One can see women in almost all types of jobs working with pride. I think the problem of enormous amount of complexity that comes with an ancient and hierarchical society like India is also not present here. Yet the tendency to dismiss and the sense of insecurity regarding treating a woman as a person remains prevalent and much more subtly so. When you do not know what is your enemy, it is tough to make a sophisticated choice. I guess it may be one of the reasons why women had to (or have to) declare an open fight against men or patriarchy.

If we put it metaphorically, let us imagine two people who are causing harm to you. You know the first person won't listen to any sensible rational conversation. Either they will dismiss you or they will try to sabotage you. What would you do? Suffer silently, or wage an open war. But you find hope that you can find a solution to your problem with the second person possibly through dialog, or bending rules, or manipulation, or by just outgrowing them. Then you won't feel the urgency to put up an open fight, and at the same time you will have the courage to protect and nourish your cause.

I know my analysis  and conclusion are crude, but I hope this encourages people to consider the matter instead of jumping into conclusion about people, norms, and society as feminazy, MCP and other derogatory terms.

Well, signing off while thanking my cab driver for making me think over the topic.

 

 

The quarreling couple

I have been in constant dilemma over writing about this incident. I feel guilty for writing about some people's personal lives. But, I fail to take it easy. It forces me to think, worry and analyze. Now, I have finally decided to write it down. 

A few days  back, I was walking back to work after lunch. I saw this Indian couple walking on the street talking loudly in Hindi. Their Hindi conversation attracted my attention bringing a smile to hear an Indian language here in the foreign land. As I am about to divert into my way, I notice that the guy starts running suddenly. He starts running onto the road. At first I think, they are having fun. But soon I realise they are having argument about something. The girl is shouting loudly to stop. The guy does not listen, he jumps onto road. I get scared, not for the guy who just jumped on to the road, but for the girl. You will know why in a while. The road was empty. There was a  signal few meters away. It was red and the vehicles were still waiting for it to turn green. If the guy had real intentions of acting crazy and crossing the road in a bout of anger, he could have easily done it. It was safe. But he did not. He ran for two more steps and then looked back. I smiled, "Coward!". Then I looked at the girl, she sighed in relief. Then I looked back at the guy. He looked back, first with fear and then with a strange arrogance. He walked back with chest wide and full of attitude. I remember him warning, "Don't do this to me again!". I thought, "Common! Don't act smart now!". Then he walked back to the girl, they walked in opposite direction while  continuing their quarrel. I just wished I could hug the girl and say, "Girl, you do not have to deal with this. He needs to grow.  You deserve better."

This all happened in less than a minute. As I walked back cursing them for spoiling my afternoon, many things popped into my mind, and stayed for long time.

We as Indians are cautious about public display of affection. We hesitate to  hold hands. Kissing in public space is taboo. We are awkward to talk about sex. Why? Because this is our Indian culture. This is how we are. These acts are supposed to be done in private. I do not want to debate if these are right or wrong.  I want to say what I felt at that moment. I remembered all the couples whom I had seen hugging, kissing, smooching on the streets of Boston. When I had encountered them during my initial days in USA, I was awkward, not knowing how to react. But at this moment, those acts seemed divine to me. I mean it, they seemed divine. It was sad to realise that while we are taught that showing affection is supposed to be intimate and done privately (I am not opposing it), we are not told to show our negative emotions privately. If PDA is western culture, is fighting and making scene in public Indian culture? Why don't we feel ashamed of it? Why are not we cautious about it? Someone may counter-argue saying I am generalizing it. No, I am not generalizing it. Look around yourself. Look how people in our families and personal sphere act. Look how are we on streets. Look at our elders and their interaction among themselves. While they shy away from showing affection, there is no hesitation on showing resentment. If expressing affection is supposed to be done in private, then showing anger and resentment should also be done in private. How many are doing it? How many are even aware of it? 

By pointing at the guy's behaviour, am I blaming the guy? Am I blaming all men? No. While I was witnessing this on that day, similar incident might be happening somewhere else where the girl might be behaving madly. However, I want all of us to introspect, both young generation and our parent generation. I don't know if anyone sees it or not, to me the guy was manipulating the girl. I don't know if he was doing so deliberately or not. I felt pity for the guy. He was insecure. Had he not been, he would not act like a maniac. He was scared since he did not have courage to accomplish what he set for initially. He was doing it just to grab attention of the girl. He was also egoistic and afraid to lose control to the girl. That's why as he returned, he made sure that he made it look like he returned only because the girl was begging to return, and by doing so he was doing a favour to her. I don't know if the girl was able to understand that or not. If not, I sincerely wish she understands it. Such manipulative and abusive behaviour is uncalled for. It is disgusting to think that we educated, financially stable (atleast not poor) people are being like this. I can go on and on about such behaviour I have seen and heard of among young people in close circle as well through stories of others' personal lives. I see the confusion, frustration, insecurity everywhere and it saddens me. As if, everyone is deeply insecure and is dumping on the immediate outlet they can get. What is going wrong? I am not talking about poor, uneducated people who are struggling with their life. It would have been understandable in that case. But we are middle class or upper class people with enough financial stability to lead a secure life. We are educated enough to decide right to wrong. We are from a so-called stable society. Then where does it go wrong? 

While our generation is struggling with this, I want us to to take it seriously, to take ourselves seriously, learn to be responsible for our actions, and how we treat others, especially the ones close to us. Our action can be the cause of insecurity for another person. While our social structure is going through lot of parallel transitions, it is essential and urgent for us to put a check on such behaviour. While being a part of the changing society, it is our job to watch out for such abusive behaviour in ourselves and people close to us. I can not emphasize enough the urgency of this situation.

Despite all this philosophy, I would like to think most of our young generation as a victim of such abusive behaviour. I want to blame our parent generation for this. While our elders easily point to us for getting westernized and losing our culture and ethics, I blame them for passing on to us the skewed view of Indian culture. Kids are watching you constantly. You are model for them. They know when you love each other, they know when you respect each other,  they know when you abuse, they know when you get abused and keep mum, they know when you haul swear words, they know your struggles, they know when you bow to social pressure and make your family a second priority, they know when you discriminate between your daughters and sons, they know when you treat your sons as future bread-earners and nothing else, they know when you treat your parents as burdens, they know when what others say matters more to you than the priorities of your loved ones, they know when you criticize them in front of others, they know when you hit and abuse them in the name of discipline. They experience it every moment. They learn from you, your good, your bad. They imbibe all of this subconsciously, even if they do not know or are unable to express in words. They take whatever their mind is capable of. They build their conscience with these experiences. The fact that they have such skewed and confused opinion about good and bad is because of you. Because you did not pass on this message clearly to them. Because you did not know them in first place. It makes me laugh and sad at the same time when people justify their wrong behaviour saying my parents did so, so will I. 

I feel stressed as I write it, but no more guilty about writing what I witnessed. As I conclude, I want to say, it is urgent. Treat it is as an epidemic and deal with it immediately. Otherwise, we would soon choke ourselves in the name of culture and implode. Act now before it is too late and the term "Indian culture and values" is left as a mere myth.

To trust or not to trust

13th July 2014.

Today, I was returning home in the afternoon from market. I had to slow down to adjust my luggage which I had kept in the front of my bike. I stopped near Ramalinga pond. I saw a thin old lady walking right in the middle of the chaotic road. I was scared when I had overtaken her. I had already scolded her in my mind for her carelessness orstupidity. She came near me when I stopped my bike and asked me whichway I was going. I told the direction and asked her where she wasgoing. She told, "Venkateshwara Mandira, Gauda Sahi".  I did not know the exact way to the street she mentioned.  I told her, "I can drop you in the midway." She said, "I will remain indebted to you." Those words were too heavy for me. I just tried to stop her and told, "Ok ok, ... just sit.". I dropped her at a point where our paths diverged and she said it again, "I will remain indebted to you." I again tried to stop her from telling more such heavy sentences... I was looking at her Bindi and her smile... She seemed really happy.. She asked my name, I told so and turned my bike.  As I was riding back, I told to myself, "The world is not a bad place after all ..." I made someone's day today. I felt happy for doing so! I was explaining to myself that we have an intuition. She did not seem to be dangerous. Trusting is not so bad after all! And when I returned, I explained the whole incident to ବୋଉ (Bou-Mother). Poor me... had to listen to ten minutes of lecture for my deed.. 

I could not figure out how wrong I was in this case. I have been betrayed too, people have broken my trust, I have been back-stabbed. I have watched people's emotions getting transformed from love to hatred, or even indifference in no time. But still, I tend to trust. And the funny thing is that, the more I am betrayed, the more I want to trust. I choose to trust. I choose to have faith.

When people advise me not to be so trusting, someone inside me resists it. The resistance is very strong. I am not sure whether it is mere inertia or the voice of my conscience. I feel, that's where lies my existence. If I start not trusting, it will shake my existence. It will crumple me because it will make way for fear. It is trust that gives the courage to believe in the unknown, the strength to march out for the unexplored, to reach out for what has never been known. If trusting nature has broken me and shattered me into pieces, it is only trust that has gathered me and made me whole again ... 

I question, "What is wrong in trusting?" The world is cynical already and with every passing moment, it is becoming more and more so. Everyday, every human being is waking up with a thicker shield of mistrust around her and suffocating her soul ever more! What is wrong if I can do my bit of bringing some purity into the muddy water? What if I can become the reason for not adding an additional layer of shield to someone for at least one day? It causes harm to no one. Plus, it does not require me to go out of my way, any way ...

Bread Omelette at Howrah Station! Yum!

As I walked towards the terminal 2 of Howrah station, I saw a series of food stalls alongside the road. In the pleasant weather of winter morning, it was a delight to see them ... the stacks of breads (pavs) and eggs, kadhais, steam coming out of it, busy cooks preparing bread omelets really fast and the crowd gathered around the stalls. I stopped at one stall and asked for a plate of bread-omelette. Most of the people were busy eating the omelets, or were staring at the kadhai ... may be salivating at the bread omelets, or staring into the blank and lost in the steam, or contemplating for the day ahead, or simply because they were not fully awake yet! When I got my plate, it was like heaven, I relished every bite of it! It was the perfect food for the cool weather and hungry morning :) 

As I paid him and walked ahead, I thanked Kolkata for the sweet farewell.

Return from Kolkata: the gigantic Howrah Bridge

The bus reached Howrah in approximately half-an-hour. In about the same time, the gigantic Howrah bridge loomed into the picture. It was huge! As the bus passed by the bridge, it looked steely cold... It was huge, majestic, awe inspiring, but not beautiful or charming ... I felt it lost its charm over years with dust, pollution, noise and time. It created an image of an old man in my mind. Face and body full of wrinkles, ... wearing a faded smile, as if these many years of living taught him that life is nothing but pain and hardship. But certainly a tough and stout posture. Still he appeared strong, standing straight, with head up, a straight back, strong limbs, broad torso ... wearing suit ... exuding luxury, status and strength... As if his picture will make you instantly think that he must be a charming young man in his haydays ! :P

I did not feel happy or excited to see the bridge. I walked along dragging my trolley bag while cooking up this analogy in my mind :P

Howrah Station with the Howrah Bridge at the backdrop

Return from Kolkata: the chivalrous bus conductor!

I had to catch the morning train at 7.30 AM back to Brahmapur. I left the beautiful campus of ISI, Kolkata at around 5.30 AM. It was still dark, but not so cold. My friend Vidyadhar was generous to drop me at the gate, and help me with the buses. I got into a small bus that was going to Howrah station. As I got in, I felt the state of everyone and hesitated. The conductor was an old man, but was a gentleman... He took my trolly bag from my hand, secured it through a chain and directed me to a seat. I wish young guys learn that chivalry from that old man! As I looked around for a seat, I found small amount of space in the last row. I hesitantly went along with the silent gaze of everyone and squeezed myself in that little space. The bus was silent, not much of chit-chatting could be heard... May be it was the effect of cool winter morning! I would raise myself a little to check if my bag is safe in the front every now and then... When we reached Howrah, I went ahead to unchain my bag, but the old conductor did not let me do so. He unchained the bag, indicated me to get down first, brought down the bag for me! He was too old to lift the bag, and I was perfectly capable of lifting my luggage, and both of us were aware of that! Still he cared to do that just because I was a lady! I said a heartfelt thank you and walked towards the station. As I said thanks, I felt a bit strange. I felt the word 'thank you' should not exist. It dilutes the gratitude we want to express...

The beautiful ponds in ISI Kolkata

One of the Lotus Ponds @ISI, Kolkata

  I reached ISI, Kolkata early morning. After getting freshened up in the hostel allocated to me, I and my friends started walking towards the venue. The campus was a small and cozy one. It gave a feel of a beautiful village in winter morning... We had to cross a subway to reach over the other part of the campus. As we kept walking on the small walk-ways, we saw many ponds... full of wild water plants and wild flowers... I was excited! I could see the lotuses so close! I went near them, and saw the beautiful shining lotuses, their leaves and the lotus-buds. For the first time I could see them so close! They reminded why in ancient Indian texts everything beautiful was always compared with lotus! 

As I tried to move closer I saw a tiny little snake, striped in green

ISI Kolkata Campus

and brown, was lying near the steps, and bathing in the morning sun! It quickly slithered into the water hearing my foot-step...

I saw many more wild flowers... wanted to stop by each of them, but we were getting late... so moved quickly to the conference venue..

And I knew, my day was going to be awesome!

An encounter with the taxi driver of Kolkata

I got down in the airport. As advised by my friend Kaustuv here, who is from Kolkata, I went to the prepaid counter, booked a taxi for myself, followed the directions to reach the taxi stand. There as I got the taxi assigned to me, to thin men approached me. I was this woman holding a big laptop bag and a trolly bag alone. I must be looking like a easy shikar to them. Being used to the behavior of people at Chennai and Hyderabad, I thought one is the taxi driver and the other is the helper. The guy who looked like the helper snatched my bag, and placed it in the taxi, I said thanks and got into the taxi. As soon as I entered, he asked me money for chai pani !! I was like why??? And he would not move! I then told myself,'Girl! Don't forget! You are in Kolkata!' and paid him some money...

I was told that there are two ways to ISI, my destination, one through DumDum, a long, slow route through the old city with narrow streets, the other one through an expressway, faster, shorter and quicker... I made it clear to him to go through that way.

But suddenly I see, we are entering a really narrow street! I was confused.. When I confronted him, he said, he was entering into DumDum! I was like hell! And after that, the kind of arguments he put forth to defend himself why he wants to go through that way were amazing!!! Even while writing them down, I am boiling! x-( A few of them are, "Because people like you are unwilling to pay little bit extra money, we are not getting to fill our stomach!", "Expressway is longer one, and is longer by some 600 meters than DumDum route, and because of which, I will charge 50 Rupees extra if you demand any further to take that way!".... And he was unwilling to stop and turn back!  In the end, I had to say firmly, " Take through the expressway and I am not going to pay a single paisa extra to you for anything." And finally, he somehow managed to get himself out of those streets and join the expressway...

I was astonished! How my morning turned out to be, how I could have lost in the busy traffic of Dumdum and how was about to miss my conference, how miserable I was feeling while arguing with that old taxi driver and how irritating the city of Kolkata is.. I was resentful on this bad treatment of the city to me ... and at the same time, was slightly excited for being able to successfully argue with a Bengali Taxi Driver in Kolkata!

the dacoits in the disguise of protectors x-(

The other day, me and my friend went to the market nearby at Indira Nagar for regular shopping... It was evening time... around 7 or 8. We saw one thelawala with roasted corns, and stopped there to relish a few pieces of roasted corns. As we were waiting for the thelawala to prepare the corn, a small truck came, with two traffic policemen in it. One was inside it, and the other was outside on the truck. They stopped by, scolded the thelawala to move away from the road, although he was at a safe distance from the road. Then they kept saying something to him and discussing something among themselves. We were not able to understand much. It appeared to me as if they were not so strict and friendly ones who will just ask him to move and drive away... Then they asked him about the corns... From their conversation in Telugu, I guessed, may be they stopped by to buy some corns... or may be will take a few corns as bribe. Then within a flash, the police who was outside, picked at least 10 pieces of corns and drove away... The poor thelawala was requesting not to take that much, but they did not listen... All this happened in just seconds... All the people around there gathered there suddenly... but they could not do anything... we could not do anything... And the poor fellow came back to cater to us and a few customers waiting for the roasted corns... We asked him, "Does he happen always?" He said, "Yes, all the time... " It was tough to watch his sad face.  It was a shock to me... Rest of the time, I ate my corn silently, lost in thought... So many thoughts were filling my mind... And I was eating my corn as vigorously as I could...  

Those were the people who were supposed to protect the people on road. They did that to that poor guy! They were no less than the dadas that I watched in 80's hindi movies. And this happened in our very own Indira Nagar!!! How can we trust poilce, then? They were worse than those gundas! They did not do all this for any discipline! In that case, they would have first thrashed the cars that were parked in random manner blocking the road and making it difficult for the walkers... They did not.. they wanted an easy target.. some one who can not protest! Its true then... all those adages, "only the fittest can survive", "Jor jaara mulak taara" are so true... n in such cruel ways!! 

What will happen to the poor fellow? He must be finding it difficult already to support his family with the meager income by selling roasted corns... How does he handle it everyday? Why does not he voice against them? How can he? When he is the only one to shout or beg! How can he face the snatchers who are backed by the huge bureaucracy behind them! And when the people around him choose to be mute watchers!

The fact that everyone gathered suddenly when they were snatching, and in a minute everyone got busy in their own business, reminded me one of the stories by Ruskin Bond, where, the tiger hides and targets one deer while all the deers are grazing merrily. He suddenly jumps onto one of the deers and all the others flee. The deer is dead and tiger walks away with his food. Then within no time, all the deers come back and graze as if nothing had happened... How are we different as human race from those deers! Just as we have both carnivores and herbivores amongst us!  But then, I was also among those mute spectactors! I too could not do anything! Why? The question kept nagging me! I could have taken a photo of their vehicle... I could have shouted... All those men could have shouted in unison! What could have those two policemen do if all the janta would have shouted! Nothing! But noone did! Why? since we were trying to protect ourselves at the cost of those few pieces of corn? or... we are resigned that such things happen and we have to face the bitter reality? or the mentaility of "It is his problem.. Thank God! not mine...", or the shock and indecisiveness of what should be done? or the lack of awareness and preparedness? that we don't know what should be done in such a situation? May be all of these? 

My thoughts floated into imagining all horrible incidents that happened to me in the past and to the others... the horrible incidents that get highlighted in media everyday and move into oblivion every day!!  What if a girl would have been groped? What if a person would have been looted? What if a woman was raped? What if someone was chain-snatched? What if someone would have been stabbed or shot at? Of course, this incidence of stealing the corns was not  as horrible as I was imagining... But then, the concerns it arose was same... I, as a person, need to be more courageous .. we as people need to be less dumb... We need to act smart.. We need to be prepared.. We should know that we need to act and act smartly in such situations instead of standing as mute spectators....

I came back to my hostel with the same thoughts, but after a while, forgot it and got occupied in my other activities... in the same way those deers did.

An afternoon with the monsoon rain

I just came out of the building, and saw so many people waiting on its varendah.... Oh wow! It's raining! I could not know at all while I was inside this closed building! I am gonna have fun! ... n I walked out in the rain :) It was not raining that heavily... It was a smooth flowery shower :) I had to walk a little to get an auto ricksaw... thinking of the times when I would return from college n tuitions getting drenched n my mother would say, 'Hmm.. you came back drenched... I know you won't wait till the rain stops.' n she would let me in :) Hmm, in those times there were many different reasons for not stopping when it rained. In my place, in monsoon, usually rain continues for a long time, fluctuating between heavy showers to drizzles... I love everything about rain... I just cant help getting into it, smelling the scent of soil, watching raindrops smashing on to the ground, the water pouring down near a lamp post.... And when it rains, usually the road is emptier with people taking shelter in nearby shops and buildings waiting for it to stop. And the whole road is mine!... There is nothing like riding the bicycle with full speed in the middle of an empty road in rain! Its heavenly! :) But the most important thing is the power-cut that follows the rain... And it becomes really dangerous for people, especially young girls, in the dark. Its tougher for girls to protect themselves in smaller cities than metro cities... 

Any ways, with all these memories floating in, I got into a seven-sitter, n the rain became heavier... the driver was playing a bollywood melody of the 90s which just played in tune with the music of rain... a kind of resonance was happening! I could not figured out, did the song become more musical because of rain or did the rain seemed more beautiful with the song? I had very few moments to enjoy that when I had to get down... I had to walk a little to get another auto-ricksaw. As I walked with the same mood I was in the sever-sitter, I felt the gaze of other people, surprised to watch me so relaxed while everyone else was in a rush ... In the rain, even the muddy blackish water looked beautiful, the way vehicles splashed it on the road, creating the waves, the way water drops danced on the gray road, everything was nice... hmm... I got an auto-ricksaw .... after a bumpy ride for a while, the road smoothened... the rain had almost stopped and sun was shining through the clouds... everything appeared golden, and  the cool breeze was still blowing. We passed through a long stretch of Prof. CR Rao road, with trees flanking both sides of it. I always enjoy my time whenever I travel through this road... n the driver put on music.. he played some loud qawalis of 80s, which I never heard, and given a choice, will never listen to... But they too sounded beautiful at that time... may be rain makes everything more beautiful! :) 

Then when I reached my campus, the roads were wet, if there was no water clogging, the plants and trees, were drenched, holding the rain drops dearly... as if they were all smiling :)... I walked ahead... wanted to sip a cup of tea.... just I got my tea n it started raining heavily... I walked into an open hut on the amphitheater under construction... The hut and the amphitheater make a bizarre combination... There was this beautiful hut, under which everyone would sit having their snacks. The amphitheater was built in the same area, but over the hut, instead of removing... None of us could figure out why did they do so? But, the half-hut, (since its lower portion is buried under the cemented steps of the theater) gave as cool shade in the summer evenings when the heated cemented steps just did not let us sit on them. So I found a small dry space for me there and enjoyed my tea..

The sound of rain, the raindrops falling on the roof of the hut, the water flowing through the huts, the breeze, the leaves rustling, the hot air of tea mixing with the cold  air,  the blurred view of the stadium, a handsome black dog running in the rain to play with its mates ... it was just amazing!! It was my time!! My moment, I did not want to go out of there :) but I had to... As I threw away the tea cup, n walked on the wet soil, I felt the small pebbles on it brushing against my shoes.. The sound seemed more beautiful than it usually did... I came back with a smile :) I had a nice time with rain today :)

The invasion of ... Polythenes

A few days back, I went to my hometown. One tuesday, I accompanied my mother to Budhi Ma Thakurani (ବୁଢ଼ୀ  ମା  ଠାକୁରାଣୀ) temple. She is known as goddess or Adhisthatri Devi (ଅଧିଷ୍ଠାତ୍ରୀ ଦେବୀ) of Brahmapur. The temple is in a small and beautiful premise. In Odisha, tuesday is believed to be the day of Shakti and religious people worship different forms of Shakti on that day. So, being tuesday, there was lots of crowd in the temple. As soon as I entered the temple, I saw people stood in queues that took a zigzag form and I too joined the queue. People around me were wearing clothes of really bright, soft and cheerful colours. It was a delight to see such colours after coming from south India, where people prefer darker and sober colours in clothings... Then there were also people who wanted to take a shortcut to see Thakurani (ଠାକୁରାଣୀ) and ended up being threatened up by the police woman. She was a really rough lady pushing anyone and everyone without caring if it will hurt anyone. Although I appreciated her dutifulness, I hated her rough attitude.There was a separate shelf in the corner where people were lighting lamps. There was another corner where people were worshiping the Neem tree. The water used for worshipping the Neem tree overflew and made the floor really messy although workers were constantly wiping the floor. I felt proud for being in a culture where people worship trees, but wished people did not pour water and food items so mindlessly. There were lots of deities or Parshva devatas (ପାର୍ଶ୍ବ  ଦେବତା) on the courtyard of the temple and people were walking briskly to worship them because the floor was heated up in the summer sun. It was quite funny to watch the scene. I too did the same :). In another corner, two teenagers in temple duty were collecting the garbage and were throwing them outside. They seemed to be quite enjoying their work and seemed unaware of the crowd around them. Well, to me, all this was normal in temples... except one thing... polythene bags. There were many small transparent polythene bags floating everywhere... I was surprised and disgusted at how these things have easily entered into the premises of a temple, which is supposed to be sacred and we have to follow so many rules and restrictions before entering them... Noone, not even the purohits(ପୁରୋହିତ) had any objection to it. The shopkeepers outside the temple were giving stuff for Pooja(ପୂଜା) in polythene bags. People were taking them upto the inner shrine. Both the Poojari( ପୂଜାରୀ) and people were easily discarding them there itself without thinking anything. Agree that they are not made of any animal body part, they are clean and there is nothing technically wrong in using them in temples. But somehow, I could not accept the scene of polythenes inside temples.  It has become a norm in India that the sight of huge piles of polythenes implies we are about to enter a city. But not this! Not in temples. They are supposed to be beautiful. I do not find any logic to defend myself. But, even the scene of dirt and mud inside the temple premises was tolerable, not these polythene bags!! I felt like they were some cunning shrewd bad people who tricked everyone to make their way to enter to sacred places like temples so smoothly! I so wished to tell someone that, anything but not these polythenes! How come?! 

Even machines need shelter in nature

This afternoon, I came out of the library to take a break and started walking around the campus... Its always a delight to walk under green trees and watching the beauty around me... As I entered this stretch of the road, I saw the beautiful tall and green trees along the stretch. The way these trees are growing, in a few years, they will provide a complete green cover to the road. :) And this road is the most green with tallest and thickest trees in our campus. But I noticed something else too. The Cars... parked nicely under the trees from the beginning to the end of the road. It was funny... When we have the engines on, and AC is on, we give a damn to what happens to those trees, we want wider and wider highways for our cars, more and more parking lots, we won't step out in sun and will remain in car, we won't create a space for plants in our houses since that will waste space, but will carefully design a space for cars, ... and we are very happy with that, since we are progressing, we are rich, we have status, we are modern.  And the moment, the engine goes off, we are desperate to find a shade to park them! It all seemed so funny to me... Even the machines need nature... It looked like a class of small naughty kids were meekly sitting near their teachers not due to the fear of punishment, but due to their helplessness... that they did not have any other option. 

As I walked smiling at myself, I thought, how nice it can be if the parking lots are made of trees? An area with regularly spaced trees, so that cars can get sufficient space to move around. I agree, it sounds stupid and selfish that we are thinking of trees when we need to take care of our cars. But they are nevertheless better than the cemented, heat radiating and ugly parking lots for which so much of money is spent. hmm... not a bad idea! :)

the other side of life I never saw...

Who knows, when you are out there on the road when you bump into someone you met long back? How many times it has happened to you? To me, very often. Suddenly, out of nowhere some known face comes in front you and surprises you... some evoke pleasant emotions and a few evoke sorrow. This evening, I had such an encounter with a little girl... n it was both pleasant and sad.  She was one of the slum-kids who used to come to our institute to study in the afternoons. Their entire slum was demolished few months back thanks to some stupid visit of PM. And those poor people had to relocate to other places. I never saw them after that as their new place was far away from my place. Today, I saw that l'll girl. I was very happy to see her. She is a brilliant and smart girl. It was pleasant.. a pleasant surprise! I asked her, how was she, how are her friends and how come she is here? And she answered, 'We moved here.' That was normal. I asked about others. She mentioned one of the other girls whose mother died of an accident and they had to shift back to their village. It was a shock. But still, I was ok. Then me and my friend bought some cookies for her and thought we should drop her home. On the way, I met her mother. It seemed she was waiting for her. We got a chance to talk to her. She said, "My husband died  three months back. Here, I know someone, so we came back here."... That was another shock. ok..... I wanted to know if she is earning and is capable of raising her kid. I was relieved to know that she earns Rs 3000/- per month. I do not know if that is sufficient for a full family, but yes...it is better than nothing. Then she mentioned another girl and said that she n her mother stay with them too... I was like...ok...what about her father? She said, he was suffering from AIDS and he died too. That was a shock...a real shock.. but the worse part did not come yet. The little girl and her mother were also HIV positive! These things were something meant to be watched in TV, in movies, serials and programmes like Satyamev Jayate... not to experience! Very first time, I saw all that! And the shock did not stop here! She asked for a help. She told that her husband had a keep, and he has some money in bank and the nominee is the other woman. She wanted to get that for her kids and she wanted to know how to apply for it. And, the other woman had also died. We went to her home. As we entered into their cozy little house, much cleaner than my room, I saw one baby lying and ofcourse the l'll girl she mentioned about. I was wondering, what is their fault that they are HIV positive? What is their fault that they are suffering? She showed her documents and I promised them that I will ask my friends back at my institute and try to figure out something. I do not know if I can do anything for them ... but yeah since then, I am disturbed till now... not able to concentrate on my work at all.  This life, I never imagined in my mind despite of so much awareness through the media. In newspaper, I read Andhra Pradesh is the state with maximum AIDS patients...and I wondered, "Where does this happen?" I saw those kids with sabby dress, brown hair, rough skin... but never imagined their life could be so miserable.  They are sweet, naughty, lovely, innocent, vulnerable, yet tough.. They were not flinching at all when they were talking about so many deaths. Something people like me will not even dare to imagine. And those women, are  the real strong women. Those women had to carry the burden of irresponsibility of their men, of the misery of being poor and of not earning enough. Yet, they were strong, standing tall, fighting with life unflinchingly.  I will try my level best to be of any help to them..but there is something I want to say to some people... to those people, who think that girls need not be educated since in the end they have to work in kitchen. To those who think girl child should be taught only because it will be easy to get a suitable groom for her when she grows up. And to those who think most women actually do not need to earn the bread for their home and it is actually the modern middle and upper class society's women who work these days... And to those who say that a woman is dependent on her father, husband and son at different phases of her life and does not have the strength to lead an independent life. All these beliefs, myths, superstitions ...whatever you may call it, do not apply to these women. And there are many such women, I am sure.. And they are definitely not the face of modern India. They are there since ages, fighting, struggling, holding their head up.

The woes of a pedestrian

And the pedestrian is an old man. Well, I was eating out last evening and was having a nice time... and in the middle of the conversation my eyes fell on the highway that runs next to the restaurant I was in. The road was in perfect shape apt for heavy and fast vehicles. All the vehicles starting from 2-wheelers to heavy loaded trucks were moving in high speed. And in the middle of the road an old man was standing alone raising his hand to stop the coming vehicles so that he can cross the road. And he stood there at least for five minutes, in the middle of the road, moving here and there trying to save himself at the same time. As I was watching, my heart raced up..what about that poor fellow? And no vehicle was caring to stop! And after 5 minutes (that excludes the time before I noticed him), somehow he managed to cross it. We sighed in relief.. What if one of those vehicles would have turned into a monster that evening and crushed him? 

One may say, well there are overhead bridges...roads are for riding n driving...its the pedestrian's responsibility to be safe...I want to answer this. Hello... that was an extremely long stretch of highway...you won't find an overhead bridge or zebra crossing for at least a kilometer...where it is a compulsion for a pedestrian to face the monster vehicles and cross the road...  And that's how it happens everywhere in Hyderabad and, I am sure, in many other cities...

With this, I pray for the safety of all the pedestrians on the road...

Motivation...

Well, I wanted to start this blog since long time...when I was in Chennai and was traveling for at least 3 hours everyday. Everyday, I would observe something that was an experience, sometimes wise, sometimes funny, and some other times tragic... Well, my laziness dragged me till today for almost five years  and now I am doing the Sri Ganesha of it .. O My God! Its been five whole years!! कोई नहीं ! देर आये दुरुस्त  आये!

So, as I said, I am gonna share, in this blog,  the happenings I observe as a passive onlooker that others may also observe with equal inquisitiveness or ignore like trivia... 

Enjoy!