Perspective. And a point of view I endorse.

The piece below is an excerpt taken from an article written by Swaminathan S. Anklesaria Aiyar and published in The Times of India. It’s a fresh take on terrorism and I really liked it because it’s something that I myself have been longing to say for quite a while now but somehow I’ve always stopped short of putting it down in words. Anyways, read on…

“Cooler heads point out that “war on terror” is a meaningless phrase. Terror is simply a tactic used by certain groups, and you cannot wage war against a tactic. When terrorism arises from an ideology or set of grievances, imaginary or otherwise, killing one bunch of ideologues may simply deepen the grievances and create thousands of fresh terrorists. This has been demonstrated graphically in Iraq and Afghanistan.
Angry Indians say something must be done. True, but that something happens to be patient diplomacy and international pressure, which will take years to bear fruit. Ultimately, we need to change the mind-set of terrorists, and that may take decades.”

I’d also like to add more to this. The people who are waging this so-called “war on terror” have their own vested interests to fulfill. Why is the US so determined to “help India out” this time around? This is because the attacks on the Taj and the Oberoi also took away the lives of a few Americans. The US, which was until now, nothing more than the issuer of another statement whenever a fresh terrorist attack took place in India is suddenly keen to bring the guilty to book, to be the one who will keep a check on whether Pakistan is really doing enough.

Also, the United States of America which considers and propagates itself as the peace-maker, the Supreme Court and the Mr. Always Right should not forget its own shady past – how it itself spread terror during its “war against terror” in Iraq. I truly shudder whenever I remember the photographs of the atrocities committed on the Iraqis which were somehow leaked to the media. God alone knows what these people must have done in Afghanistan and places elsewhere. And who knows – maybe it is these very and other such similar grievances that the terrorists carry in their hearts when they set out to spread terror.

Lest the readers of this blog accuse me of supporting terrorism, I would like to make it clear here itself: I do not support terrorism… OF ANY KIND – Be it the terrorism wielded in the name of jihad, or be it the “terrorism” which America considers legal and is now supporting openly.

What I really want to say is that contrary to what we all sometimes believe – there is no absolute black and no absolute white. Almost all things, people, ideologies and beliefs lie in the grey area. It’s only that some of these shades of grey are darker than the others– and hence comes the need to view things in the correct perspective.

YIPPEEEE…!!!

There was a contest in Hindustan Times in which a clichéd line "It was a dark and stormy night" was tweaked a bit and thrown at us. And what were we supposed to do with it? We were supposed to come up with the first paragraph of an imaginary novel. Why? Because they say that the first paragraph of a novel is the part that an author is most finicky about.

The best 10 entries from all over India were to be published on January 11… I sent an entry in my father's name (he's lucky for me :-))… And I won!!!
Take a look ;-)

SINGH IS KING…!!!

Congratulations, Bhai…!!! You've done it and made everyone soooo proud… You deserved this and a lot more & now you’ve got this and I’m sure there is loads more in the offing…

Great going… Keep going… Love U Lots :)

P.S. I do wish you had provided them with a newer pic of yours :p

HAPPY NEW YEAR !!!!

A very happy and prosperous New Year 2009 to all !!!!


Till then, I'll just leave you with the magnificent fireworks at the Sydney Harbour Bridge on New Year's Eve....

It’s official… I hate my college.

I hate the way things are done here, I hate the way they run this place and I hate the fact that I have to come here 5 days a week and see precious days of my life waste away into nothingness. I hate the fact that I always have to do some crappy work which neither excites me, nor thrills me, just makes me let out a huge, audible sigh. I hate the fact that sometimes, I see no target in front of me, no finishing line ahead of me.

But the flip side of this is that I’m also proud of being here… Maybe this wasn’t what I was expecting when I stepped into this place a year and a half back… Maybe this wasn’t what I had in mind when they told me “the college you’re going to go to is among the top 15 colleges of India”… But the fact is that I am proud of being here coz what I‘ve got today, is something that most parents would give loads of money (you know what I mean ;)) to let their children have; is something that most students work tirelessly towards for two long years… And if this is what India has to offer as “one of its best colleges”, then so be it. I’m not going to grumble my way through these 4 years… or, atleast that’s what I tell myself everyday:-/

So, here’s to another bout of optimism (though this may be because the holidays have just started and I’m getting my cheeriness back at the prospect of staying home and doing what I love everyday)… Here’s hoping that my sincere efforts to fall in love once again with this place like I did a year and a half back do bear fruit (coz of late I’ve gotten really bored calling this place names along with the rest of my friends :P and I do want my stay here to be a lot more enjoyable:))

P.S:
I think I owe everybody an explanation as to why I wrote this post. Well here it is… I got my grades a few days back and they were horrible…though not quite as horrible as some of the things the teachers did. Without taking any names (of the teachers or the benefitting students), I’ll give a brief overview of what all happened. In one subject, some students were given A’s even though they deserved mangy-looking C’s and hence, some of us deserving A’s had to be content with B’s and those deserving B’s had to be content with C’s. In another subject, promises made earlier regarding marking in quizzes were broken at the last moment (I can’t elaborate on this right now, it’s a long story). In yet another subject, marks were deducted for no reason at all and even then when we just made it to the cut-off for the much-coveted A-grade in the stupid subject, we were handed a B… coz they said, had we got ½ a mark more, we would have gotten an A, but no, ½ a mark less couldn’t be adjusted, sorry…

To top it all, I was the least lucky in my lab practical exam… got the worst experiment of the lot…had to perform that while the others sniggered… I don’t blame anyone for this though… Somebody had to get that experiment and I did... Just my luck…

HI… I’M BACK:)

First of all, to all the people who’ve been checking out my blog at regular intervals, telling me to update it and add something to it – a sincere and heartfelt thanks. I’m flattered ;)

Honestly, the reason why I didn’t come up with something soon after my exams got over was because I immediately immersed myself in reading novels, catching up on the movies that I’d missed and watching some more of the irresistible Prison Break… So understandably, no new ideas popped into my already saturated brain. An irony… since all through my end-semester exams, my brain was teeming with fresh ideas and inspirations and I could barely resist turning my laptop on and blogging away. Though I still remember some of those ideas, I no longer want to write about them coz they don’t seem so fresh anymore:-(, which is a pity coz I was really proud of some of those thoughts…

So, till a new, shining and sparkling gem of an idea makes its way into my mind… stay tuned in ;)

My first attempt at story-telling;)

Shanti winced as she scrubbed the utensils at Mrs. Radhika Saxena’s house. Her shoulder hurt where it had been banged into the iron gate by her husband last night. Yesterday had been ‘pay-day’ and her husband, Prakash, had not only beaten her up like every other night, but had also snatched all her wages to splurge at the nearby liquor vend. Shanti, having already anticipated this, had tied Rs. 100 separately in a knot in the pallu of her fraying sari. She needed this money badly – for herself, her three daughters and a baby son.

In the adjoining room, Shanti heard Mrs. and Mr. Saxena have a heated argument. She tiptoed to their daughter Sanaa’s room and closed the door so as not to disturb her sleep. She always felt guilty when Radhika Memsahib told her to do the cleaning of Sanaa’s room quietly so as not to wake her up because she herself woke her three daughters up very early in the morning. Her daughters too, like her, worked as maids. She loved her children dearly but was never able to express her love for them the way her memsahibs did.

As for her husband, she neither loved him, nor hated him. She had come to accept him as her fate. And as comes with all forms of acceptance, there came a feeling of detachment, a sense of withdrawal…

A week later , as Shanti mopped the drawing room floor at the Saxena household, she overheard her Radhika Memsahib talking to her best friend, Vaishali.
“It’s over now”, Radhika said. “I’m not going to compromise on my dignity. I’m leaving for my parents’ house today with Sanaa and I’ll send him the divorce papers after talking to my lawyer.”
“But Radhika, what’s wrong? Things have not been fine between you two for a couple of weeks now, I understand, but what prompted you to take this extreme decision?”, Vaishali pressed.
“Its as Marilyn Monroe once said – ‘If a man hits you once and you stay, you must be madly in love with him. But, if he hits you twice, you’ve got to be crazy to stay.’ Vaishali, I forgave him for hitting me once but I won’t forgive him this second time. I’m not a vegetable, I’m human and I have feelings. I am answerable to my soul and I can’t let anyone do this to me. Case closed.”

That evening, Shanti walked back to her chawl in a daze. She replayed Radhika Memsahib’s dialogues over and over again in her mind. Her husband used to beat her up almost everyday. So, was she to take that she should have left her husband long ago? Ram-Ram. She touched her ears. What was the matter with her? All her fellow migrants from Bihar had the same story to tell. Everybody’s husband beat them up – both privately and publicly. Nobody ever questioned it. Why, her own father used to beat her mother up. Her mother had never complained. So why should she?

That night, Shanti was beaten up by her drunken husband yet again.

Another week later, as Shanti returned home tired from work, her daughters ran up to her, “Mummy, Mummy… Bapu left home in the morning and hasn’t returned since.”
“What?” blurted Shanti, all weariness forgotten.

The next day, when her husband still did not return, Shanti enquired about road accidents in the neighbourhood. She came to know that there had been none yesterday. She went to report her missing husband at the police station but no good came of it. The police-wallahs refused to help and instead sniggered at some inside joke amongst themselves causing Shanti to run out of the police station in panic.

By now, the people in Shanti’s chawl had started talking. They said that her husband, Prakash was a drunkard who had left Shanti for another woman. The middle-aged men and teenage boys in Shanti’s chawl not only quoted these ‘facts’ loudly whenever Shanti passed by, but also made her the target of their lewd comments. However, instead of being shattered, Shanti discovered a strange feeling of liberation within herself. She noticed that as she worked tirelessly in her employers’ houses, there was an unconscious smile on her face.

Strange… Shanti tried to observe her behavioural pattern since her husband had left. She concurred that there was happiness within her because her husband had gone. He hadn’t been there to beat her up & her daughters hadn’t cried at her plight. In fact, come to think of it, her children too seemed happier. Maybe Radhika Memsahib was right – you truely ought to leave abusive husbands.

But in the heart of hearts, Shanti knew that she would never have had the guts to leave Prakash. She secretly thanked her stars that he himself had gone away.

Presently, Shanti started dreaming of getting a full salary to spend on herself and her children. She dreamed of educating her daughters and son. She estimated that if they got the full salary for running the household, then only she and her eldest daughter needed to work. Her two younger daughters could leave work and go to school. She decided that she would also get her son admitted in the nearby government school once he was three years old. She’d buy clothes from the nearby second-hand garments shop. Winters were fast approaching and their clothes were inadequate. Every year, she and her kids fell ill due to the bone-chilling cold weather. This year she would ensure none of that happened. And there would be three square meals everyday. Her kids would never have to skip a meal again, she promised herself. And all this would happen soon enough – because tomorrow was pay-day :-)

Pay-day arrived and as expected, Shanti got her wages. Shanti was again, out of habit, about to tie Rs. 100 separately in the pallu of her sari when she reminded herself—Prakash was gone… All this money was now hers to spend. Though it sounded like a cliché, she still said it to herself—‘All my dreams are going to come true now!’

Shanti walked back home jubiliant, a slight song on her lips. As she entered her chawl, the slight commotion and the hushed whispers all around remained wasted on her. She was on a different astral plane altogether, till a rude shock jolted her back to reality. With a start, she realized that her husband was standing in the doorway of their rented room like every other pay-day. In the few seconds that passed before Prakash lunged at her, moments from the past month flashed before her eyes.

You’ve got to be crazy to stay. Flash. Not going to compromise on my dignity. Flash. Younger daughters going to school. Flash. Three square meals for the children. Flash. All her wages snatched from her hands. Flash.

The next day, as Shanti went to work, nobody noticed the fresh black bruise on her left cheek…