Words and Spaces – are not for free!

It’s strange but I have become allergic to words - ‘spoken words’ to be precise. Every now and then, a chatter here and a mutter there makes me a little less sane. Even seemingly harmless lyrics of a song are enough to drive me up the wall. Instrumental music is surely the saviour.
I “shift a little more” in my already cluttered metro bench since we the people, believe in not wasting even the slightest speck of space - “Hey, I see that millimetre of space hiding beneath your dupatta. So, you better shift young lady!” Yes, suddenly you feel as if the sex ratio has actually improved. But don’t be mistaken. It’s just the new ladies coach. This coach is of course a boon but you can’t help missing that “ladies first” feeling. Afterall, ladies don’t offer their seats the way men do! (more on that special coach, later) Sitting pretty with my earphones (listening to instrumental music, what else did you think?) I get transported to a different world altogether. The whole scenery of people coming in and going out every 2 minutes or so becomes less disturbing, and the tiresome journey becomes like a walk in the heaven. “But hey, I’m too restless.” So, I fish out my novel, as I avoid bumping my elbow into the nearby lady. Soon after, I get dissolved in the world of written words.

I don’t hear anything. I don’t speak anything. And my 30-minute sojourn comes to a peaceful end.

It's No Sanctuary

Times of India, Feb 16, 2010


Once upon a time a king built a dam to save his flooded city. The dam inadvertently left a depression, forming shallow lakes and turned the area into wetland. Little did he know that in a few centuries it would become an arid wasteland. This isn't some fable, but the story of Rajasthan's Bharatpur bird sanctuary. Renamed Keoladeo National Park, it is home to about 300 bird species. Once a haven for migratory birds, today it wears a deserted look. Reason? Scarcity of water has literally sapped the soul of this sanctuary. The extent of the damage wasn't clear until one saw it for oneself. I visited the park recently and was disappointed to find the boating area closed. On enquiry i discovered that the area that now looks like a piece of barren land once bubbled with water. So what led to this drastic change? Turns out that the lake was supplied water by the Ajan dam, but things changed after the Panchana dam was built a few years ago.

Panchana dam, situated about 100 km away, is now the major source of water for this place. But politics and agitations have played spoilsport. A war of sorts has broken out between the birds and humans. The villagers of Kaurali district, who use the dam water for farming, do not wish to part with it as they fear it would harm their livelihood. On the contrary, reports suggest that the dam has enough water to cater to both. But the war is still on with no sign of peace in the near future. The Rajasthan government decided to launch the Govardhan drain project, which would derive water from the Yamuna to keep both the parties happy. One wonders that with hardly any water in the Yamuna for Delhiites, how will the poor birds get a share of the pie? And true to form, the state government has been sitting on the money allocated for the project for over a year now. Though tenders for the project were floated in September, they were cancelled without reason. Who knows we might have to wait till our leaders call a pundit for a muhurat. Meanwhile, UNESCO has, after several warnings, threatened to revoke the World Heritage Site status accorded to the sanctuary if things don't change. I can't predict if that will matter; but for the time being, let's enjoy the site of neelgais and deer, for birds here are hard to spot.

How To Make Friends

Times of India, Feb 2, 2010

Reading a news report about a fake friendship club being busted brought back an old memory. I was barely six. My friends and i were afraid of this stout girl who used to walk like a strict headmistress. Her fury was such that we lived in perennial fear of being abused, physically and mentally. I decided then to devise a counteraction plan. I put forward my yellow rose proposal at an opportune time and moment. She was initially sceptical. But, as one recounted to her the merits of such an alliance, she gradually came around. I forged my first 'fake friendship' in that moment, and it made me think deeply about the idea of a fake friendship and the various ways in which we befriend people. Why, first of all, does the need for forming such a pact arise? When do we need to make a 'fake friend'? It so happens that when we are emotionally weak or have something to gain from that so-called friend, we indulge in fake friendships.

Fake friends are all around us. From praising the canteenwallah bhaiya in exchange of those cups of free chai to greeting the head of the administrative department with a wide smile in order to get work done faster, we weave a web of pretensions around us all the time. And, of course, a few words of kindness exchanged with the librarian also help waive that 100-rupee fine. It is not just the real world that has been plagued by this syndrome; the virtual world is increasingly following in its footsteps. Recently, an Australian company called uSocial began selling fake friends on social networking sites. Come to think of it, a thousand friends for 125 pounds is not a bad deal. The latest Oxford University study, however, might get you caught. It says the human brain can only manage 150 friends at a time. So, soon everyone will know that the rest are simply fakes. But then to say that fake friends are always harmful and useless might not be correct. In fact, it is almost impossible to predict the fate of such friendships. Many times, they turn out to be far better than the ones you formed without any motive. Now, this leads to a larger question: Should everything in life be motivated by our needs? Probably yes. Saintly souls might ask whatever happened to the ideal of selflessness. But, did it really exist in the first place?

Changing Tracks

Times of India, Jan 14, 2010

The giant red blocks lightly held together by two-inch rubber wheels have always been my favourite toy. Trains fascinated me as a child, and the thrill of taking the little object round and round the toy track gave me such satisfaction as to forget about the world entirely. That was until i saw the real version. Real trains are huge and while approaching you at night in their usual rusty maroon avatars with wide beaming lights, they almost threaten to devour you; it's enough to scare a toy train-clutching toddler. However, that day it wasn't so much the sight of the giant-on-wheels but the humans on the ground that broke my reverie. The train came to a sudden jerky halt. Sleeping beauties and beasties apart, curious passengers went out to figure out why the train had stopped. Rumour had it that there was a dharna by the people of a nearby village who were demanding the extension of the railroad network. And hapless passengers like us bore the brunt of their ire.

A similar event a few days ago brought back this memory. Though their demands were similar, the residents of Tajnagar village did not resort to bandhs or violence. Nor was public property damaged or human life threatened. Rather, the villagers peacefully built a station for themselves, all on their own. A constructive way to channel the anger, one might say. After all, they had been demanding a railway station for nearly two and a half decades now but paucity of funds prevented the authorities from granting their demands. Even after its transformation into a profit-making enterprise, Indian Railways seemed to lack funds for the very purpose of its existence, which is to expand train services. I can say, as an optimist, that the people of India have realised their hidden potential - no, it's not their ability to construct railway stations, but a deeper sense of power. The kind of power that makes people do things they never dreamt of. And it's not like the Railways didn't know about the project - they did, after all, agree to stop trains at stations built by people. This sounds like a perfect public-public partnership; if such a partnership doesn't already exist, it must start soon. Very innovative and profitable it is, and as railway officials themselves find the idea to be financially viable, the sooner we have more such collaborations, the better for all of us.

'INNOCENT' TIMES

It is one of those incidents, which still give me the tickles and the chuckles. Now, as I peep into my little mind, I can vividly remember that incident.*****Rolling into flashback*****Year 1994I was in prep that time. The exams were on and we, the little kids were crumbling under its pressure. That time we had a subject called EVS (environmental studies) and the very next day was its exam. So, all night I was struggling with the names of birds, animals and flowers. What was particularly driving me crazy was the spelling of ‘deer’. No matter how much pains I took, it just wouldn’t stick into my head. I said it aloud 5 times D-E-E-R. I wrote it on paper 10times DEER, lest I confuse it with ‘dear’. Somehow, I managed to put it in my already cluttered mind that the animal’s name is deer and not ‘dear’. Hence, the rest of the night was spent with the chirping of birds, the sounds of animals and the colours of flowers.Alas! Came the fateful day- The day of the exam. Everyone being as nervous as the other is, and as the time drew nearer the palpitation only increased.**********Treeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeennnnnngggggggggggggggg******** the bell, now synonymous with the Satan’s voice rang. Now, began the haphazard last minute preparations. With pages flipping faster than lightening, with words pouring out like a hymn learnt verbatim, with last minute queries to last minute answers- all this in just a span of two minutes. As if in that very moment every word had to be saved from some vicious demon before he devoured them all. And not to forget, the hapless teacher trying to break the now established eternal bond between the students and the books.Finally, after bidding goodbye to our beloved books (which only become beloved during exams), we settled down roll number wise, anxiously waiting for the question paper. Methodically, the teacher started distributing them from one side. I was fidgeting until she came to my desk, eager to take a look at the paper. I gave the paper a cursory look and heaved a sigh of relief. It didn’t seem tough. I started writing the paper and found myself answering the questions as fast as I could, lest anything slip out of my mind. I was answering all questions comfortably, but then what do I see? This question says,” _______ (deer/dear) is the name of an animal.” “Ok”, I told myself. “I know the answer”, I muttered to myself. The answer is…is…is?????? DEAR! Yes, it is DEAR! No, it is DEER. No, it is DEAR. No it is……..! My mind was buzzing. How could I forget it? I practiced it all night. It is a sin greater than blasphemy! Suddenly, I saw the time and realized that I had wasted my precious ten minutes on this question. I left it blank for the time being, and hurriedly went on completing the rest of the paper. Just as I was wrapping up my answers, Neha (aka Daddo), the girl sitting beside me, poked me lightly. Quietly, in a hushed voice she asked the answer of a question about thorny plants. The question asked us to name two thorny plants. In those days, Neha wasn’t really my friend, infact she was an enemy. Though, she has grown up, mellowed down and become one of my best friends today, earlier she was a brat and the villain of my life. Thus, I was in no mood to tell her the answer. However, she kept coaxing me so I finally said, "CACTUS”. Oh! But she already knew this one. She insisted again to tell me another. I knew it was ROSE but just the thought of her getting more marks, pulled me back. I kept quiet. Then, she tried to bribe me by saying that I could also ask her something in return. It did sound tempting at that moment but I maintained a stoic silence. After all, I had been taught not to cheat. But she kept pulling at my shirt and I realized, she wouldn’t let me work till I answered. So, after thinking for a while, I came up with the answer, “CHAMELI!. Yes, Chameli is the other thorny plant". Happily, she wrote the answer and profusely thanked me. Secretly, I smiled to myself, applauding my teeny self for being so smart. Cmon! How could I let her get that one mark?Then, peacefully I finished my paper. However, as I began to revise, I stumbled on that deer/dear question. In my excitement of getting her answer wrong, I had completely forgotten this question. I began to strain my mind and the more I thought, the more confused I got. Only ten minutes were left and I had to make a choice between the two spellings. I was desperate. The bell could ring anytime. Then, the bell rang into my mind. I suddenly poked Neha and asked if she knew the answer. (oh! Everything is fair in love, war and exams! ;)) She smiled and said it was D-E-E-R. But, I wasn’t fully convinced. So, I insisted on her again. This time, with full conviction, she said it was DEER and not DEAR. Her father had told her the other day and she was sure. She tried hard to persuade me.I listened to her and thought for a while. My petty mind thought, if I didn’t tell her the right answer then, why would she? So, I happily wrote D-E-A-R and thanked her. Again, I applauded myself for being such a genius. :-P

Cancer and beyond

It was 21st January 2002 when she was confronted with a reality, she did not want to accept. For a moment, her life came to a halt. She thought it was the end. With her translucent eyes, she saw her two little children. This was the day when she was told she had BREAST CANCER. She had never been so scared in her life, for her life. She only wanted God to answer her one question, “Why only me!”

****************

Five years hence, bearing the pain of countless therapies, she knows she is not alone. There are many like her and the number is only increasing. But the government has done little to spread awareness. Since, the most common sign of breast cancer is a new lump, which is painless; many women tend to ignore it. And in a society like ours, where talking about breasts is as much a taboo as sex, who will lead the awareness crusade?It was then that she decided to take the plunge. So, she along with a friend(also a cancer patient) took upon themselves the onerous task of educating as many people as possible. They started out by informing people at kitty parties. It was tough to make the ladies ignore tambola and food, and make them listen to a lecture! However, they never gave up. For them, even if one woman gets motivated out of thirty, it’s a great achievement. As she says, “This is just the beginning.”(to be contd)

Phir Bhi Dil Hai Hindustani

CP, New Delhi
January 21,2008


"A Kashmiri Muslim is always suspected of being a terrorist”, bemoans a middle aged man with whitish complexion. This 35-year-old man alongwith his parents and brother, once lived in a huge house in Kashmir. Aijaz Ahmed Khan, is one those hundreds of thousands of people whose homes were burnt to ashes. From living in a plush 12-room house to living in a one room flat with five people, the transition has not been smooth. However, he had to come to Delhi to earn his livelihood. He came in 1992 and since then has been working as a guide. Although, he has been working in Delhi for the past 15 years, he is still looked down by the people as ‘someone who does not belong to India’. Being a Kashmiri is tough but being a Kashmiri Muslim is tougher. The police keeps harassing them and they are constantly stopped, checked and questioned. “We pay rs.1000/month to the police for just talking to the tourists and we are always threatened”, says Aijaz. However, life is still better here in Delhi than in Kashmir.There, the soldiers would torture them and force them to confess that they are terrorists. “I was hanged on bamboo stick and beaten. For 3 weeks I could not walk”, laments the distraught migrant. He alleges that the Indian government and the army have created more problems for them than the militants. Inside him, there is hatred not for the militants but for the ministers and the army. He feels that the ministers take away all the money and little is spent on the rehabilitation of those who lost their homes.However, despite the day-to-day hardships, he still says with a smile, “I love my motherland. Jahan main paida hua, main wahin rehna chahta hu…”

Chidyatapu- Don't miss this one

For a long time, I have been thinking of writing about my trip to Andaman Islands. Somehow, Andaman wasn’t what I had expected. Having heard so much about its beauty, my expectations had risen.
As we reached Port Blair, we were hounded by the hustle and bustle of the city life. There were crowded markets and the city plan seems to have gone haywire. With each blow of smoke, I could see my expectations crumbling. I felt something was amiss. The Andaman that I was seeing was not what I wanted. I yearned for tranquility, a place where I could admire the greatest architect of all times-the almighty. But to my dismay, every place had been infiltrated by mankind. Even the islands weren’t spared. For instance, the Viper Island was occupied with remnants of prison and courtroom. On Ross Island, one could see the remains of a Church, a tennis court, barracks to mention a few.

Then one fine day, we were taken to a place which was around two hours away from the main city. As we cut through the hills with great speed, I could sense the freshness of the air. With wind gushing across my face, I could see the green hills with isolated homes-some kucha, some pakka-nevertheless accentuating the beauty of the place. The slender curves of the road, coupled with the greenery of the place, made it a memorable ride.
Finally, the wonderful journey ended and our cab came to a halt. I was somewhat disappointed. I wished the journey could be just a little longer. But now looking at the vast emptiness of the place with trees half uprooted, with large rocks floating on the blue sea, I thought this was ‘the place’. It was CHIDYATAPU.

The 'unfailing??' plans

It’s not new, it’s not abnormal rather it’s a perfect case of blissful ignorance. However, the unique thing being that what we have chosen to ignore is ourselves. Now instead of making you go through the mental agony of guessing what I am talking about, I would straightaway come to my point. I am referring to that unfailing habit of making plans and resolving to follow them with all our conviction. However, every time in this battle of laziness versus doing the things that ‘matter’, laziness always takes the bait. Oh! You can’t ignore laziness when it comes dressed up as that sexy lady or handsome bloke (depending upon your preference ;). Sure, you are bound to fall prey to its treacherous trap. Now, coming to my plans, I would say that the number of plans I made and broke has reached such a stage that it might as well feed the whole population of America! Where should I start my woes from? Those regular plans to study (usually the aftermath of horrible exams) or the incessant plans to meet up with school friends (read: reunion), or my little plans to cut my nails (after being scolded the nth time by my dad). And not to forget, my plan to buy that pen which I have been postponing for a week now! It could be one of my favourite plans to finish my novel before exams start. Otherwise, I’ll have to reread it as usual. Those plans about not to waste too much money on phone calls or my daily plans to travel by bus (read: saving more than 100 bucks a day) or the weekend plans to go for a movie or those impossible plans of quitting orkut! The list is endless and still counting…However, I’m not all that hopeless as you might think. Some of my plans do work though I can’t recall any at the moment. ;)N oh! did I forget to mention that yesterday I ‘planned’ to update my blog?
PS: Procrastination is my sin. I know I must stop it. I will. But TOMORROW ;)

That same old feeling of...

When in night I see the stars,
their light seems to vanish the dark,
but i feel a scare in my heart
I don't know what triggers this fear...

When i see the sun in morn
its scorching heat falls on my palms
and it seems my throbbing heart would never calm.
I dont know what triggers this fear...

When in cold winter days
the wind blows over my face
i feel the chill
as if the wind is going to kill.
i dont know what triggers this fear...

When in hot summer days,
the loo hovers like a ghost
i feel that its hot trap would engulf my soul
i don't know what triggers this fear...

My dolorous heart, my sickening fear
for the day is near
when i would be killed by fear!