Category Archives: Articles
1.1 Rocks and waves- “He knew it when he saw her”
Before going through this it is suggested that you go through the first part of the story Rocks and Waves (Part 1)
“Wake up, Neharika”, mom called from the kitchen.
This was the 4th time she was calling and Niharika knew that she has to get up this time otherwise mom would barge anytime into her room. Groggily, she gets out of the bed and walks towards the window. Somewhere in the distant a koel is heard singing in her melodious voice. Her class teacher, Mrs. John had told her that a koel sings very early in the morning but is now an endangered bird due to the mushrooming of the mobile network towers. She had said something about waves and signals that Neha could not grasp but at that moment she makes a silent vow to herself to never own a mobile phone. Silent vows like these, taken by a child hold immense power. If everyone keeps at least a few of them the world could be a better place. She enters the washroom and places the toothpaste on the toothbrush in exact quantity as the size of a “pea”, as she had seen her mom do the other day.
“Come on, hurry up! you need to be given a bath too”, mom is at the door and that is a sound of alarm. It also signifies that the clock has hit 6:30 and she has just an hour before the Morning Prayer starts.
“Alright mom”, she screams with the foam still in her mouth.
After 15 minutes she is ready in her school dress with her shirt tucked in and bag on her shoulders.
“Which one is your first class today”, mom asks as she pulls the comb with both of her hands to brush her hair sideways and clips them.
“It’s the writing class mom by Miss Molly. She is going to teach us the cursive writing today”, said Neharika.
“Hope she learns it well, the curved t’s and I’s just don’t run well in the family”, Mrs. Viz tells herself.
“Okay girl you are ready to go to school”, grab your water bottle and come downstairs for your breakfast. It was always milk toast for breakfast. Neharika climbs down the staircase skipping a step as she reached the drawing room of her house located in one of the most fertile countryside of India.
The family resided in a small accommodation provided by the company Mr. Viz worked for. Their colony was nestled in rural backyards . It was a self-sufficient space with its own parks, temple, school and numerous open spaces. Away from the jostling crowd of the metros this was a perfect place for children like Neharika to thrive and learn about life. There were around 600 families and each were give their own quarters. Every house had a similar façade which lent certain uniformity to the appearance and which certainly to the way of life.
Neharika’s school was 5 blocks down the road, “All the best princess,” said her father in his gravelly voice. She smiled at him and ran after her mother who was already at the gate. It was a 10 mins. Walk to school which Neharika usually took with her mother. 7:15 am is an unsually busy hour in the colony, with parents accompanying their kids to school and milkman with his daily visits, the world around seemed to be in a hurry. Neharika rushed after her mother with hurried footsteps. They pass the colony’s Laxmi Narayan temple and she raises her hands to the level of her chest holding the palms of both hands together in the shape of a lotus, in order to do offer “Namaste” to Lord Narayan.
Her mother raises her eyebrows and looks at her daughter disapprovingly “What did I tell you Neharika?”
She rolls her eyes and raises her elbows to bring them in a straight line forming the perfect age old “Namaste”, just like her mother has always told to do.
They walked for about half a mile until they passed the Sports Club where Neharika’s father used to come during weekends for his game of Table Tennis. She looks at the Basketball court where every evening she would longingly stand with a hope to grow as tall as the other players to be able to play the game on the court.
They walk along the road and take a right on the next turn where they could see the school’s gate clearly. The school gate is a hub of commotion with all the parents stopping by to drop their children. Majority of them being mothers who have come in groups after completing their early morning chores, it was the time of 90s when women were expected to chalk out all their daily activities around the schedule of their husband and children. Somehow it does not matter to them as this was a way and their smiles told the rest.
Mrs. Viz kisses Neharika and bids her goodbye at the gate. She could see all the mother’s going till the classroom with their kids but Mrs. Viz wanted Neharika to be independent and if it has to start from here, so be it. Neharika’s spots her friend Gautami and waves her, Gautami runs towards her and whispers something in her ear, they both giggle and run towards there classroom.
Gautami was Neharika’s best friend, these childhood friendships have an air of innocence about them, devoid of any motives or agenda childhood friends take solace in each other’s well-being. Keeping their bags on their respective seats Gautami and Neharika are greeted by Komal there neighbour. The three friends go for the assembly prayer.
The atmosphere is serene with kids singing “Vaishnav Jan to” with enthusiasm at the top of their voices. Suddenly, Mrs. John pats Neharika’s back. Neharika opens her eyes and looks at her class teacher. Her teacher was signaling her to go forward to the stage. Neharika trudged towards the stage, with the principal’s eyes glued to her she could sense an air of positivity in her smile. Her graceful eyes signified that it was not a punishment but something more that had prompted them to call her to the stage. As she climbed up the stairs, the principal said “ Stand on the chair and keep your hands folded in prayer just as you were”. Neharika joined her hands in the lotus position and raised her elbows in a straight line. She was still feeling a bit shy to be standing at a 4 feet high stool, she could see all her friends from here. She spotted Gautami who had her eyes half open. She rejoiced in this sudden stardom. Neharika closed her eyes, remembered her mother and started to sing “Vaishnav Jan to” in a low voice.
Unaware of this a small boy of medium height and wheatish complexion was standing at the back of the prayer hall, trying to catch a glimpse of the kid who was standing on the chair on the front. He craned his neck and stood on his toes with all his might until he spotted the fair girl standing in the front. The boy thought of doing it himself and who knows joining his hands in a similar fashion would earn him a place “beside the girl”. He could never do that and the prayer ended. However, the boy remembered the face of the girl and that day, it lived in his memory forever, until………
Flip Side: Contrasting tale of two girls through the phases of life
Hi Daddy! look here I am posing for the camera take my pictures, says the little girl of 
about 5 years of age standing in the big wooden shoes kept outside the wind mill in Amsterdam. The father smiles and clicks several pictures all in different poses for her little model Hadid. Her eyes were brimming with aspirations and ambitions which were so strong made her believe she was a Gigi Hadid and was doing hoto-shoot. Funny enough then how later that evening I saw a pair of eyes that harbored in them a shard of glass directly piercing through the dreams and aspirations of the future telling a sad tale of desperation and the proverbial “limited means”.
I was sitting in a late night 11 pm tram in Amsterdam and I saw a young lady draped in a long overcoat buttoned till the waist. She looked dazed probably on cocaine or hash. She rode fast on a bicycle along the tram all the while trying to protect her modesty by using two fingers of her left hand to pin the front of her flowing overcoat which had noting beneath it. I observed her from the window of the tram and desperately wanted to have a look at what lay beneath the overcoat. Not satisfied with the leg show I strained my neck and stuck my face on the tram window until the tram accelerated and she was left far behind. However due to the frequent red lights she was able to catch up with the tram and I again caught a glimpse of those white legs.
However, on the next curve she came quite close to the side of the tram and in trying to prevent her bicycle from ramming into the tram she took a right and lost her balance. She fell down on her back with the both legs up and the overcoat parted right up to her panties giving the onlookers a show of much more than she had desired at least at that point of time. The tram went far and that figure on the road fell far away from my line of sight.
Both the events left me thinking about the prostitution industry in Amsterdam or anywhere for that matter. Somehow both the events seemed to be connected as if the little girl with dreams had grown up to become a woman riding the bicycle. Am I overthinking? Maybe prostitution is good and a source of income. Doesn’t it drive tourists to the cities like Amsterdam and Hamburg in turn jacking up the revenue from the tourism industry?
Having said that consider this, in today’s modern era where the major economies are driven by consumption and amassing of materialistic wealth, in that context our body is the most basic object that we can call ours and exert our rights upon. The act of paid sex which is the basis of prostitution and online porn for that matter pays a woman to give up that right for a few hours. Now which girl in a very balanced state of mind would have ever dreamt of giving up that right even for a few moments let alone for a few hours. Thus, it would not be preposterous to construe that this industry harps and takes advantage of a girl’s desperation and utter dire circumstances, sometimes tough childhood and molestation, that might have propelled her to make this as a sole source of income.
The red light street in Amsterdam on both sides of the canal
On the contrary people might want to argue that don’t we all give up our right to freedom when we sign to work for a corporate, to all those I would want to say this “think again guys, did you have dreams in your childhood and would you think you ever dreamed of putting a price tag to your bodies”.
Here is one of the quote from my interaction with a lady who worked as a prostitute at night which will make you think about it over and over again.
When asked “Are you happy and satisfied with your work”?
She took a deep breath and paused, probably to make the answer easy to grasp for me, she said “Try being caged in a glass enclosure with nothing but your make up on, with the onlookers giggling and wagging tongues at you and you would certainly know”.
‘Tuesdays with Morrie” – A book review
After 3 months I finally finished “Tuesday with Morrie” yesterday. I deliberately left the book mid-way because after one third of the book I realised that this book is too good to be finished at one go. After all haven’t you always wanted to be with that one guiding light be it a friends, a parent or a teacher who does not preach but simply converses with you and somehow that figure leaves you too soon.
The writer Mitch Albom was Morrie’s student during his sophomore years in Massachusetts and the book is a description of a last few conversations between Mitch and his teacher Morrie. Mitch lost touch with his professor after his graduation day where he supposedly had promised to be in touch with his teacher. He gets busy with his life, trying to chase big dreams “working at a pace that knew no hours, no limits” when one day he sees Morrie on ABC TVs show “Nightline” hosted by the famed Ted Koppel. He decides to visit his old professor and thus begins his conversations with Morrie which are very suitably titled “Tuesdays with Morrie”.
I guess there is something in that name itself that made me pick up this book, the very first time that I read about it at the back of another one of Mitch Albom’s classic “Five people you meet in heaven”. “Morrie” makes me imagine an old and soft figure one talking to me in a husky soft voice which symbolizes words dripping out of a century of soft served ice cream of a life. Sometimes though you begin to imagine him as someone straight out of your 5th grade Moral Science text book who is propagating love and empathy in this world of hardships surfeit with climate problems related to data and what not How would Morrie know this lying on his deathbed in a developed nation watching Maple trees shed its leaves all through the day and ruminating about life. But the beauty of the book is such that it tries to address many problems without even addressing them in any particular form . When Mitch asks him which side wins during a dilemma Morrie quips “Love” and after a short pause completes “Love, always wins”.
The book although devoid of twists and turns keeps the user hooked though the authors ability to capture the rawest of human emotions into minimal words. Read it slow and don’t mind keeping this masterpiece half read, as Morrie says ‘Don’t let go too soon, but don’t hang on too long.” You wont need a context when you pick up this half read book again as your own life will provide you all the context you need.
Plight of the “Aadharised” Cow
Hindutva and Saffronisation are the rancorous topic these days with almost every Tom, Dick and Harry offering their opinions and suggestions. The most interesting topic occupying the front of the Indian tabloids is our Government’s plan to have all the Gau maatas of the country “Aadharised”. Sounds preposterous isn’t it, well it is true and Indian Government has actually mooted a plan to identify all the cow maatas by a 12 digit number by the end of this year.
Article 48 of the Indian Constitution mandates the states to prohibit the slaughter of cows and calves. This is keeping in mind the religious sentiments and is a sort of our way of paying back the maata for all the good she does for us. Right from the childhood Indians have made a feast of cow’s milk and various by-products of it so naturally a feeling of association and forbearance sets within our hearts. After all Indian’s are so large hearted people. So banning beef and cow slaughter in the country is still justified at large but having an Aadhar for all the cows of country is giving way too much identification to the poor thing.
Hindu scriptures describe cow as an animal that are closest to the humans and they are said to feel the pain and suffering of their masters by shedding actual tears. But that in no way guarantees a right to the policy makers to spend crores on this plan in a country where one third of the population is still below the poverty line. This also belies the Government’s development and economic growth plank on which it rode to an astounding victory about 2 years back.
Stats say that the states where the cow slaughter was banned have registered a decline in the cow population further underlining the Government’s overreach with its ambitious plan .Disappearing grazing land including feed and fodder, healthcare and unplanned urbanization have negative impacts on the cow population thus declining cow population is more of an economic problem than being just a religious issue.
Lets focus on the right issues as I am sure any cow today would be happier to see an improvement in the quality of the country’s poor than having assigned an ID.
Shut off the lights
Long back during one of my night walks when the mind is too tired to fascinate about a bright future or reminisce about the long gone past I wondered what if someone switched of all the street lights or just for a few seconds there be no artificial lights around us. What if just for a few minutes the moonlight is all that we have to guide us forward. Imagining darkness all around seems fascinating to me and I pleaded to God “please, if you can”.
I was brought up in a small town surrounded by villages. Days started with school at 7 and the nights ended with the 9 pm news hour. To imagine the world without the lights seemed so much strange to that small town kid. Now imagine that kid all grown up and in one of the busiest metros of India, Gurgaon. It seems that this city never sleeps and it never actually does. It is said that evening here starts after 10 pm and end at 5 am.
In midst of all this I wondered why is it that people who work relentlessly all through the week found it so pleasing to go out on a Friday night. When the entire week people complain about tiredness, exhaustion and sleep deprivation suddenly become all charged up to let their hair down at the nearest night club for the whole night. This must be more tiring than 9 hours spent at work every day, isn’t it.
People have become less interactive and less patient. The days have gone when we used to go out with a friend for an after dinner walk or a light chat after office which used to be refreshing and did away with the day’s stress. Man has got to be social but with less and less chances of meeting new people the weekend nights offer a great way to meet people and chill out for a while even if it comes at a cost of loss of sleep and thus more stress.
We have got to revert back to that original lifestyle. Who would deny that Monday mornings, just after weekends, are arguably the most tiresome and lazy. Parties and night outs are good if done once in a while. Mind’s natural state is relaxed which can be achieved by just shutting the light off or listening to some music it’s the stress that you actually go looking out for during weekends.
The Inward Gaze 