life…

Is this really Ok?

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I’ve had an itch to write about this particular topic for a while now and I would really like to know the honest opinion of all those who read this article. Mainly, whether you think this is a norm or absolutely wrong.

Taking advantage of young kids/adults or child labour in other words, is something that is wrong, legally and morally, and more worse when it done to kids by their own relatives.

Let me elaborate on this topic through what I’ve actually seen my neighbours’ do. I’ll be referring to the family as the X’s. Trust me, it’s kinder than what I actually want to refer them to them as.

I moved to Bangalore about 5 years ago, where I met the X family, neighbours’ on my left side. I didn’t like them at first glance itself. I didn’t know why at that time, just that they rubbed off wrong on me. They are a family of 4; plus Mr. X’s 16/17 year old nephew, brought here after his father’s death a couple of years ago.

Over the months, I realized that the boy did everything but study. Not because he didn’t want to, but couldn’t. He did everything from cleaning to washing cars to looking after their pup (briefly before they abandoned it) to gardening, buying groceries; name the chore and he was the one doing it. It looked like everyone had a list of chores he had to complete, including their maid’s. Yes, their maid too ordered him around like he was her assistant and not a member of that family.

Any time the kid rebelled, the mom and the kids (2 girls; one married with a kid of her own) made it sound like he has come home, inebriated, than saying no to them. And they always listed out all the expenses their father, his uncle, had doled out the dough for. Funnily enough, they have never ordered him around when Mr. X was around.

The extend of work he does around in that house is unbelievable. What’s more disturbing is that I’ve heard that they’ve done this regularly with all of their wards.

I don’t think I would’ve been this disturbed or angry if they had treated the boy the same way as their own kids. I know I would never treat my sister’s kid this way, if something were to happen to her and my brother-in-law, or vice versa. And I hope, so would a lot of people.

My question to these people would be, God forbid, if something happens to one of their girls, would they treat their nieces or nephews the same way? Would they think it is normal to do so?

I know child labour is a big menace in most countries. There are also a lot of reasons kids work without being forced to; family obligations; hunger; poverty. There are those who are forced to do so. Shouldn’t we take some time to reflect and see if there is a permanent solution to eradicating such torture towards the children?

Is this really ok?

(In)Tolerant New India

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I moved to India a couple of years ago, and boy was I excited! I was hoping that I would be a part of the “growing” country I’d heard so much about, a part of the “New India”. 5 years down the line, I have to tell you all those rose-coloured glasses have been ripped right off of my eyes.

I’ve come to understand that this lovely, diverse country, has been handed over to fanatics and hooligans. They’ve taken to deciding what the people are supposed to do; what to eat; how to dress; what to watch; what holidays to celebrate; how to celebrate; whom to be with; whose voices will be heard; whose will be suppressed. The list goes on and on, and frankly is quite exhausting.

This country was diverse from the beginning. So many cultures and traditions, and so many of us have ancestors that came from other countries and made this one their own home. All these differences integrated to become India. I had only heard of the times we celebrated our differences. Maybe there were small issues between people, but these were the result of political manipulations and sling-fests than among the citizens themselves, or so I had heard.

The youth of today are supposed to be the hope of tomorrow. But this saying is being molded in a different way here. Instead of teaching them to stand up against such malpractices, they are being taught and in fact encouraged to practice and follow the opposite. For example, couple of years ago, people eating beef were persecuted in the most horrific way, most of the times ending in death. My question to these haters would be, how can those who causes harm to their fellow humans, preach about loving and protecting cows?!

We are, sadly, still a country struggling to catch up with the other countries in terms of basic needs delivered to the people; minimum wage; food, shelter, drinking water, sanitation, education, jobs; infrastructure. We pay a lot of taxes, but our country’s leaders can’t seem to use those funds to make sure we stay in the race. Despite all of these pressing problems, the public’s attentions are being diverted to such petty issues such as misplaced honour; religion; casteism etc.

One day, I was watching one of the news channel’s debates; Transgender rights, Fringe groups, and a Malayalam song that apparently ‘insulted’ the Muslim community. All the topics clearly showcased how pathetically and progressively intolerant we have become.

Shanavi Ponnuswamy is a transgender whose application has been rejected by Air India, due to belonging to the 3rd gender.

Valentines Day, fringe groups who crawled out from under their rocks, says that it is hurting ‘their values’!! These hooligans terrorized and caused losses to numerous businesses in our country. How are these fanatics protecting our values if you are hurting your own people? This is not protecting anything… This is Terrorism!!

An actress and a director booked because the Malayalam song talked about the love between Prophet Mohd. (PBUH) and his wife. The list could go on and on, much to my chagrin, and these are only some of the issues that have lasted in my mind.

I have a new born, and most often my husband and I are always caught in the question: How can we bring up our child in a country that seems to thrive on harming their own people? How do we equip him to deal with hatred, misogyny, intolerance? How can we help him retain his humanity? How can we tell him to see the good in people and teach him to treat everyone with respect when, he shouldn’t expect the same in return?

How?

The Seduction of…

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BOOKS!! You thought otherwise, didn’t you? Sorry folks, it was too tempting not to do this… I love reading. I am one of those people who own the ‘Bookworm” title. Though love, my husband says, is too tame a word for what he calls an obsession. Psht!! (insert eyeroll!)

I was “that kid” who looked forward to the summer reading lists our teachers would assign, which were thought of as assignments by my parents and in turn supplemented my excuses to buy new books so, Yippee!!! Wicked I know, but hey, all’s well that ends well, yes? I would devour books after books. Read and re-read; analyse and contemplate about the dialogues and circumstances. I have spent many days gazing into the space introspecting a phrase or imagining a scene as it was so well written.

Plus, there’s something about books and bookstores. The smell of books?! The worn pages of well read ones; The crispness of the ones still in their boxes. Whatever it is, that scent along with the story-line (of course) that still hooks me to date.

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I went through all the phases of a reader. Investigating cases with the Famous Five’s and Secret Seven’s; Waiting in line for the new Harry Potter releases; getting t-shirts printed with my favourite quotes; stay past my bed-time to finish a book; planning my “Beauty and the beast” library; vocally dissing movies made from books, except the book thief, and the fault in my stars and.. I’ll stop right there, otherwise I’ll probably contradict myself.

My husband says I am a very vocal reader, and that doesn’t mean reading out loud. I will yell at the characters when they were unbelievably stupid; cry at the pain they would suffer; laugh at the jokes they would make; cringe at the embarrassment they would be suffering etc. My fellow bookworm title holders will know what I am talking about, don’t you all? 

Dear Mrs. Nabee

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We all have that one adult in our life, teacher or friend, who looks deeper than others do; who sees potential where others see trouble. My 4th grade English teacher Mrs. Nabee was that adult in my life. Being a little troubled and absent-minded, she realized that writing was one of my greatest interests and pushed me into the universe of books. Ma’am, if you ever come across this article, Thank you!. You opened up worlds’ that would have otherwise been ignored forever.

It didn’t take long for me to fall in love with books and decide that English was my favourite subject. The first book we read in her class was Pinocchio and reading out loud in class became a lot more fun. She never once made any of us feel stupid or silly, especially if we mispronounced or didn’t know the meaning of any word. She had a way of explaining that made us visualize the words in our minds. I have now come to know that is a power very few teachers possess or even have half a tumbler of talent for. I can’t imagine the amount of homework she must have assigned to herself to make sure our minds remained in her class, all through the year. My favourite project in her class was when she had us all make caterpilars with chart papers, to be stuck on our class notice boards. We had to cut out circles and each circle would contain the name of a book we had finished, which when put together would become a caterpilar. The student with the longest caterpillar, at the end of a term was given a reward; a sweet treat and a smile or a pat on the back… But boy, did we all wait for that smile!!! One that acknowledged pride in us.

At the end of that year, we had a ‘class party’; translation – free for all junk food she sponsored and a music system blasting out the latest tunes through cassettes. (Do I feel old now!!). The last thing thoughtful, loving act she did for us that year was to draw a tree full of leaves on the blackboard. Each leaf contained the name of a student in that class. She took the extra effort to make us feel special. Any other teacher would have popped in and then waltzed out within 5 minutes, not Mrs. Nabee.

So Mrs. Nabee, I hope you’ve fulfilled whatever you wanted out of life and it is still full of happiness. I really hope we will met once more in this life so that I can give you what I couldn’t so many years ago; a heartfelt thanks and a big hug!!

Sincerely

Miss Absent-mind from the Class of 98′-99′

Is Mobocracy and Fascism our future?

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Disclaimer: This article is not intended to cause harm to any individuals beliefs’ nor is it against the government or a political stance. This is only written based on my observations.

As mentioned before, I am an NRI now living in India. Even then, never have I heard of issues such as killing people in the name of cows; at least not in this frequency or with such malice.

When did Indians decide that killings fellow beings in the name of animals was ok? I know for a fact that even animals don’t kill for sport, only to sate their hunger. Do the said cows care about humans? Or their names is being dragged into it?

Most of you will be asking why am I writing about this now. the answer is Junaid Khan. Out of all the innocents murdered for ‘consuming beef’, This name will forever be etched in my mind. Junaid was a 15-16 year old boy. Emphasis on BOY. He was just a boy, out with his relatives, looking forward to Eid. His only worry should have been about school, exams and other issues that plague the teen-aged years. It shouldn’t have been about fear of fellow beings; about the need to escape them.

Instead of celebrating the end of a successful fasting period, his family prepared and conducted a funeral. Instead of joy, happiness and a house and hearts filled with laughter, there were tears, heartbreak and numbness. Maybe one day, his family will fall back on the thought that it was his time. Even if it was so, it shouldn’t have been in such a cruel and horrifying way; filled with fear, pain and hurt. It shouldn’t have been decided by a bunch of drunken assholes. It shouldn’t have been the way it happened.

Why did this happen? How have we, as humans, with “advanced intelligence”, fallen to such a low point? How do we face ourselves knowing, that this is the possible future we are leaving for the coming generations? That we kill fellow Indians in the name of four legged creatures, and it’s ok to do so?

How did people not react? Not the general public, but people on the train? How did they let these murderers go? Why…? That is the question that haunts me. Why did they let them go? Fear, of the same fate? Not their problem? They don’t care? Why? Did they not hear his screams of fear? Why, did they let them go?

Where in our constitution or our laws do we give allowances for such acts? That, too, in the name of religion? Really? How are people not realizing that moral policing is being shoved down our throats and we are enabling this by keeping our silence?

How is there no tidal wave of fury flooding the streets against such mobs? Why are we keeping quiet? Are we waiting for a breaking point? Are we waiting to see how far we fall from humanity?

On 30th June 2017, PM Modi issued a statement regarding these murders and attacks, after maybe, in my understanding, a year of such incidents. After a year? Since the last 6 months I have seen numerous news broadcasts with individuals begging for their lives when accosted regarding cows. How did people get the time to watch and film this? How did they not get the time to put a stop to such atrocities?

Jaago India! Jaago!

Under the Microscope

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I was born and brought up in Dubai. Being a NRI (non-resident Indian) is quite the experience. Being a woman and NRI is out of the world. Here are a few things I’ve learnt, on my own or through my friends…

  1. Girls should not hug male members in public, even though they may your grandfather, brother or husband.
  2. Do not wear shorts, including knee length ones. Even if your parents and immediate family members are cool with it, the mauhalle waale (neighbours etc.) definitely will have problems. Not to mention the stares and whispers.
  3. Never question religious rituals. I once made the “mistake” of asking my mother why they waste litres of milk by pouring it on a stone idol flowing into the drain, when lots of destitute people, including young children are waiting outside the temples walls? Wouldn’t it e beneficial to give it to them; their stomachs would be relieved from the hunger pains for at least a while, right? Believe me when I say the expressions of horror would have burnt me had they had the power, and gasps of exclamation would have been heard throughout the city that day. Plus the lectures about respecting the Gods, and how I would have to ask for God’s forgiveness, failing which I would incur untold wrath. Since I am writing about this 2 years later, guess God thought my point valid.
  4. Girls should not talk or laugh out loud. Apparently doing so is considered as uncouth or disrespectful, God forbid. I still have no idea how that one works.
  5. We should never reveal the fact that we do not know cooking, or that we hate household chores. Or that we drink (BIG no-no); or have boys as friends, so on and so forth, you all get the idea.
  6. Be prepared for the assumptions that since you’ve been brought up outside, you don’t speak the mother tongue, eat the native dishes, and voicing your opinions on a subject is considered as being spoilt.
  7. Relatives will have an opinion about everything you do or want to do in life; education, clothing, how you behave, work etc.. Be prepared with PPTs if you decide to challenge said views or hold your silence forever.

I could go on and on about what’s wrong with people’s attitude. Thankfully people have started questioning the rigid thinking, so it is getting better.

Change is slow, yes?

Back with a fizzle…

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After 5 years, and endless experiences, I am finally back to blogging. Yes, I know, 5 years is a long, long time to have taken a hiatus (some aspiring writer I am, no?), but what to do, life happens. Yes?

My posts are going to be random (not surprising I know); mad dashes, intrusive and annoying relatives, the travels, my fledgling photography, and being the third wheel. Thankfully, I’ve a collection of stories I have to share, some of which, most of you out there might even nod your head at, due to your similar experiences.

P.S. Be kind while critiquing my work… I’ve come to find out that just because one likes to read voraciously, does not mean one will be a good writer. It actually takes practice to write well… (Yes, I was surprised to find that out!). However, I welcome all empathy and sympathy with open arms… 😉

 

Advice from Strangers

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You’re all gussied up or, maybe you’re in your rattiest sweats, whatever; you’re one of the hundreds walking down the street. You don’t know them, they don’t know you. The easiest way to introduce yourself to them? Throwing yourselves at their feet. Nope! You haven’t read that wrong…  What do I mean? Trip over you own feet and crash land near theirs…

I am one of those not so ‘normal’ humans; clumsy and accident prone. Someone who manages to trip on flat surfaces (no joke!) which, all of those ‘well-balanced’ strangers seem to navigate quite smoothly. And it doesn’t matter where I am, my legs never seem to co-operate with my brain or they are just jerking me around, literally!

My entire being feels like it’s on fire when this happens. However, I am so used to (translation ‘fed up’) of hearing the comments and suggestions given to me while I am lying flat on my back, with raised arms, hoping some of those ‘advicers’ (a.k.a. ‘idjeets’ as I like to call them), will realize that I am expecting a helping hand, not because I’ve been frozen like that in the fall. And to top it off, you are also dealing with the awesome pain that is making itself aware after the initial numbness. And let me tell you something, pain is pain. Whether it’s the gleaming tiles in malls, the concrete pavements or the mud path littered with gravel. Ouch! would be too small a word for that. The bigger ‘Ouch!’ is being subjected to the gawks and smirks and sometimes outright laughter, after such instances.

Yet, how does one cure clumsiness? My remedy is to not wear heeled footwear. It’s either flats or flats (though I am a proud owner of two, rarely used, pairs). But like any girl, my hands do automatically reach towards the pointy, attractive devils at the shoe stores, I hold myself back, ruthlessly, thinking of the after effects of falling down while wearing those beauties.

I’ve resigned myself to walking slowly (not snail like though). Each floor is stepped on after careful deliberation of its smoothness etc. So, if you all find someone whom you’ve seen doing the very thing I’ve described above, maybe you’ve seen me or someone just like me…

Our Life on a Rainy Day

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The sound of rain is a most welcome one. For someone who was brought up in the desert, the smell of the earth after the first drops of rain is as intoxicating as the bouquet of 200 year old Scotch for an alcoholic. For the first time in a very long time, I arrived in India to a very pleasant weather; cool moist winds, bringing in the scent of clouds heavy with rain was a pleasant surprise after many years of dry monsoon, and I found myself wishing to a rain God (if there is one!), that the it would rain here rather than elsewhere.  And the rain God answered!!! By mid-afternoon, the rains started slowly but then gathered its full strength and went on till early next morning. It made the atmosphere cozy, something that only rains of this nature can create. My mum, sister and I, settled down to a typical rainy day behaviour armed with cups of hot tea (lemonade and chocolates in my case) and pakoras (fried vegetable fritters), for gossip/catching up sessions. Before my sister was married, and rains were plenty, there were always days like these; we would talk about our lives, our friends and troubles we were having at that time and discussions and argument would be plenty and be conducted at the top of our voices.

However this session yesterday initiated a new member into our routine, my one-month-old niece, Niharika. So, much time was spent on all of us observing the smallest gestures she did. My mum and sister had, what I am assuming to be a normal one, a good sentimental session on the joys of being a mother, which left me to be the one to run for tissues and the offerer of the shoulder, or just simply be enraptured by the baby. When the thunder was loud enough to scare her, we took turns rocking and soothing her, while the tea got colder.

This session also made us recall the times of when we had been younger and our grandma had been able, she would regale us with stories of her youth and her life. How she and my grandfather eloped almost 50 years ago; the struggles of bringing up 4 children; the fun they used to have running their shops; tales of their friends we are not inclined to believe at all (who would believe that old, grouchy, toothless, fiend Mr. X, had actually written poems for the girl who would become his wife, in order to woo her!!!!). In these stories, there were always lessons to be learnt; about life, love, how to manage ones’ responsibilities; how to have fun, to laugh, to enjoy life’s littlest pleasures; value one’s friendship, to never ever take advantage of a friend’s generousity and even if one had, to always remember that favour. Nowadays, she is mostly bed-ridden and under care, and cannot sit with us to tell us any more of those wonderful stories… but she has told us enough for us to pass on to the future generation; to our children, babies of our cousins and their respective spouses… something to be cherished, and remembered with love….