Truth is sadder than fiction

She sat on her bed hugging her knees tightly, rocking back and forth trying to calm herself. Her small unlit apartment was oppressively hot and stifling but that wasnt what was weighing her down at the moment. 

"But it had not always been like this" she muttered to herself. Her mind wandered back to their initial days of courtship- the fun dinners, their light easy conversation, his intelligent comments to everything she used to say- how carefree she had been then!. She had imagined herself to be special- he was always dismissive or mildly condescending about all women but she had assumed that he thought of her as different- after all, he chose to go around with her. She couldnt deny it, she did feel slightly smug about it.She had a right to be-  their relationship wasnt like any other. None of the cloyingly sweet romance that was on display all over the campus. They were too cool and casual and she had always wanted it that way. 

Just when did cool slowly but surely morph into cold? 

Was it with the mockery- light and friendly in the beginning ( nothing she couldnt take, in fact she wore it proudly on her sleeve as a mark of their coolness) but somewhere along the way turned into disrespect? Was it with his absolute disregard for her opinions in private and embarrassingly so in public? Her restaurant suggestions did not count-they always went where he wanted. His interests, needs and ideas came first. She had accepted it indulgently, hey, she wasnt one of those whiny nagging types who would keep their boyfriends on leash. He had no respect for that type, she knew- he had made it abundantly clear to her. 

The doorbell rang, hesitantly at first and then impatiently. She let it ring. She had no energy to step off the bed now. 

She couldnt understand it. It seemed like just yesterday that she was walking proudly by his side, holding his arms. Slowly she had began taking tentative steps, letting him walk ahead- letting him guide her. Before she knew it she had blended into his shadow and he was walking all over her.  She couldnt point out when exactly this happened.  Was it when he made disparaging remarks about what she said in front of their friends? Earlier she never took them seriously and would reply with a flippant fitting retort which would earn his grudging respect ( Ah, how she loved that look). Over time somehow she had began ,unknowingly, to believe whatever he had said and in the place of a witty comeback all she had was mute rage. As if she was trapped in a dream where her brain is willing her to say something and her mouth was not able to spell out the words.   

She had been a free bird soaring the sky - why did she find herself on the ground with clipped wings and no zeal to take flight again? In his elaborate manipulative spin he had controlled her, broken her spirit, made her feel worthless ,feel that she had to work hard to keep him- she didnt deserve a prize catch like him. And she had started believing it. And she tried so hard to prove that she was worthy of him. So hard that she had started becoming the person she thought he would like, so much that she had forgotten what it was to be herself. 

Her stomach grumbled.  She had to make do with Maggi. No patience for her cooking skills now. 

She had learnt to cook what he liked. Because he believed that women needed to know how to cook. When exactly did her feminist tendencies leave her? 

 How did I let this happen to me? she wondered listlessly. Did I let myself be abused? But abuse doesnt happen to educated women- it happens to poor women living in slums whose husbands beat them up for money. People raise their eyebrows in respect when I tell them my qualifications. This just could not have happened. He is also an educated person.  No, its not abuse, she tried consoling herself. But she knew the truth. As did her friends,  whose attitude towards her had lately moved in the direction of pity. 

Her phone rang. She disconnected it. She will call them back. She scrolled through her playlist and "Perhaps perhaps perhaps" came on. That had become her song recently. 

There were a lot of "Perhaps" sentences she could think of. Perhaps she should have called it off when he was being evasive about a commitment. Perhaps she should have realised when his frivolity and disregard spilled over from words to actions. Perhaps..

Maybe she should go on a vacation to clear her mind, as all her friends had suggested. But she knew it would be of no use. What was she going to do on that vacation? Sit and brood about how things had gone? Was there any way she could leave herself behind when she went for that vacation ? She didnt have anything to do on a vacation. She only had herself with her morbid thoughts to keep company. 

Suddenly she straightened up. Yes, she still had herself. That would do. For now. 

She got off the bed purposefully and switched on the light. For a moment it was blinding, but it spread its cheerfulness across the room. She smiled. From here it was a long way to happiness, but she had made a start. Perhaps she would make something delicious for herself to eat. 

I absolutely have no use for it. But is it on Sale?

Its as if my thoughts are wild elephants on anti-depressants and writing a blog involves a sole mahout with a stick trying to herd them into alignment. I wonder how regular writers manage t orient their thoughts enough to sit down and start writing. Even if the elephants dont trample the mahout, I would imagine he will die from the sheer stress of the job ahead of him.

Anyhow, this post is not about mind control or how I generally get myself into writing posts. I just had to get that out of my head so I can talk about more um.. useless things. 

If in the earlier days there were just elephants, the anti depressants are provided today by smartphones, social media and general malls. You cant walk inside a mall without "SALE" being shoved at your face. You cant stay on FB for a few minutes without feeling inadequate and being inspired ( mostly by guilt and little bit jealousy) to do something facebook worthy. Invariably you start questioning your lifestyle, your aspirations, your abilities. ( As always a non-negativity disclaimer- I dont know why I feel compelled to put these- perhaps to tell myself that i am not going to be old cat lady ( if anything i might be old cheerful dog lady))- Of course, if you visit the right sites and follow the right people you cant spend a few minutes on these without laughing and shaking your head disbelievingly about how you are so thankful for the internet and wondering (with a slight hint of pity) as to what people did right after they woke in those pre-technology days. ( Gasp! you mean they had to be one with their thoughts? perhaps think about what they wanted to do that day and just peacefully reflect on it? The horror! )  Wow, that was one long tangential disclaimer and I have surely made a mistake in paranthesis closing. See what i mean by elephants on anti-depressants? 

What I was trying to say in the previous paragraph that got lost in the dense foliage of random thoughts is this : We are constantly surrounded by advertising. One is the direct advertising by brands- Axe telling you you are not good enough for girls, Surf excel telling you  you are not a good mom, Dove telling you  that you are average looking and you should be proud of it etc. While its designed to make you feel ill equipped to face this formidable world and induce you to rush out and buy their product it is the safer method  because you are at least aware of it. You know that the Axe man smirking at you is trying to make you conscious about your girl attracting abilities, you know that the Nivea woman raising her hands is doing so in an attempt to make you hide your armpits so that you only raise them next to buy that magic lotion. You can still fight this if you have some sanity. 

The other more dangerous form of advertising is remarkable because neither the advertiser nor the receiver is aware of it. Its the more insidious " Oh I just <bought a house/vacationed in exotic location/jumped to fancier job>  whats up with you?"  It makes you want to take the next flight to Micronesian islands just so you can prove that you are exotic location vaction do-er as well. Everyone competes with everyone else on their list to have cover pic so beautiful that makes you want to renounce pride, jealousy, materialism and be content. And if you are not competing with them you are parodying them( Thus competing with them- saying I am so much better than you at this game that I am going to play a differnt game). 

Receiving the advertising info from humans and trying to live up to it is not a new phenomenon. Its the information overload thats new. Its the same old wine in the same old bottle. Just that now there are lot more bottles. And before you know it you are piss drunk and cluelessly wondering where your life went, how you came to be in this state, and hey, are there more bottles left? 

While the saner amongst have might have realised that there is no value in Gucci over a non-branded handbag, very few of us are even aware, let alone equipped to fight, this stealthy war that we are waging against each other and ourselves. Shutting ourselves down is not the answer, just like abstinence isnt. Its about knowing when to stop- that precarious point between happy high and depressing low. And its almost impossible to achieve it. You invariably make that slip and from there on its a downward spiral. 

What started out to be a post on how advertising generates false needs seems to have morphed into my favourite FB bashing rant. Well, there is only so much controlling a solitary mahout can do.   

Your body just died. May you live long!

Whenever I hear a friend or anyone saying “ I would never read books on a Kindle. Nothing equals the smell of a new book” etc I smirk.  I look at them with pity as if they are grandmas who cant understand technology and say scornful things like “ Do you think our ancestors felt sentimental about parchments? Had everyone been for parchments and writing on barks, you would never have books. Perhaps the parchment guys were hesitant to move from stone/clay tablets? etc. It makes me feel super cool for being in with technology and against the mass belief of a hard copy being better sentimentally than its advanced tech inhuman version.

I believed I was soo for technology. Until I discovered I wasn’t.

It has been an accepted fact for some time that until science finds a way to delay natural ageing, the only way to remain immortal is to transfer your consciousness to a machine and live as a machine forever. I just cannot get on board with this.  I am soo attached to this biological way of life that it irks me to even think I can live inside another body. I refused to watch the movie “ Her” because the idea of a man falling in love with an OS with consciousness repulsed me. It did not matter that the machine could think, feel emotions, and was in all aspects – a person. It is like falling in love with a person over the internet, only you will never  ever meet them. I know all this, I just cant wrap my head around it.

I want to scream and shout “ But this is how it was meant to be. You cant interfere with nature” as if I am living in the middle of the jungle and hunt deers for dinner. I do not define myself by my body( maybe if I was thinner and prettier) but now, no- I do define myself by my thoughts only. Yet, it is impossible for me to let my thoughts live in another container.

I guess I am more old-fashioned than I thought I was. I really need to stop smirking at the Kindle critics. 

Why put off till tomorrow what you can avoid altogether

I am a serial procrastinator. I am not proud of it, but I have to admit it, if not to the general public atleast to this blog. The things I dont want to do, I understand putting them off. They are annoying, a waste of time and generally a pain to deal with. Everybody has those- tax returns, paying bills etc.

But what I dont get  is the inclination to put off things I really want to do. I really want to learn Italian, Duolingo is right in front of me- Why do I choose to aimlessly refresh my Gmail and read the last two mails, instead?   I want to clean my room, i love the feeling of having cleaned it, the thought of cleaning does not really discomfort me- why do i lie there like an insipid stone whiling away the entire afternoon?
I really want to apply for jobs- the portals are in front of me- why do i put it off? What is this fear that is lurking deep in my mind that prevents me from doing not only the things I ought to do, but also things I enjoy doing, and things I need to do to be happy? Is it fear of failure?A fear that a job done badly is much much worse than the one that is not started at all? Perhaps then I can attribute the failure to the fact that I didnt start it anWyd therefore there is no way I could have got it. The alternative is too horrifying- imagine applying everywhere and still not having a job- imagine the humiliation, the depression it will bring about, imagine all the pain. It is like holding on to the float boat and refusing to learn swimming for fear of drowning.

How do I then convince myself that doing something is better than not doing it? For a annoying trivial tasks I try and follow a very nice line I read somewhere " procrastinating doesnt make it go away. doing it makes it go away". But I dont really follow this. I cant imagine the amount of money I have lost purely because I was late in booking teh flight tickets even though my plan was firmly fixed. And i would end up paying the highest amount to book flights in the last minute. This behaviour of mine baffles me as much as  my friends- its as if i have a hatred for money and wish to waste it away as much as possible and not gain anything in return. I have tried and tried to analyse this behaviour- constantly putting off something knowing fully well taht it is going to cost me.  Its like a form of slow mental self destruction that I am unable to control.  I try and practise discipline and it works but my natural tendency is to not do it until my ass is on fire.
The worst part is that when i do end up doing the cleaning or the italian learning I feel so happy I wonder why I was putting it off in the first place.

Take for example,this blog. For many years I have told myself that writing regularly would help shape my thoughts and help me become a better writer, but for all the initial paragraphs i frame in my head, possibly one hundredth find their way as a full post on this blog. I have no fears of failure when it comes to this blog and I genuinely enjoy writing and do believe it improves me significantly and yet this blog is amongst the top representatives of my procrastination. It is as if i have evolved to live in an extremely resource-constrained world that i need to avoid anything that is not crucial to my survival.

Now that I have documented it, let me see if it makes any difference.If it doesnt, well -atleast a blog post was written. And it wasn't even the one i had half-framed in my head. 

Intolerance is not in our culture

The recent furore over the Section 377 ruling with the major political party opposing the acceptance of homosexuality, stating that it is against our culture, while disappointing is not really much of a surprise.  We have seen it happen multiple times- women going to pubs was seen as an affront to culture, speaking about pre-marital sex was considered a moral crime  and so was celebrating Valentine's day. Whether the party really believes that these are all against  Indian culture or if they are doing it to appeal to some section of the votebank, is anybody's guess.

But what they are not considering is the fact that "culture" as we speak of it today is not  fixed- it is something fluid and dynamic, something that evolves as we move towards being a different and progressive society. We are currently not upholding the culture of the Indus valley civilisation, what we consider as culture is really an amalgamation of contributions from various past societies, each of whom have added their flavour.

If we were to stick to rigidities and not change anything we would be living in the very ancient past- which if the texts are to be believed, was a much freer society than today. Prostitutes were legal and respected, women were allowed to have more than one husband, and after the practice of one husband set in, they were allowed to have children by other men with the consent of the husband. Somewhere along the line, these rules shifted to become more rigid , possibly because the styles of living changed.  In those days, transgenders, eunuchs and other different people were respected and treated alike. Devdutt Patnaik has eloquently written about the importance of Shikandin- neither a man nor a woman, in the Mahabharata, and the many instances of transgenders in other texts such as Ramayana. Arjuna, who is one of the most revered heroes of the mythologies, spent a year as a eunuch. While it was not the best way to live, he certainly seems to have had much more respect than a gay person does in modern India.

And this is not an isolated incident. Women wearing western clothes is considered erosion of Indian culture. However using televisions, smartphones and BMWs is not. While men strut around in their T-shirts and fancy cars, women are supposed to be sitting at home in sarees upholding Indian culture.  The actress who spoke in public for the use of condoms to prevent AIDS, was insulted and humiliated with brooms and chappals, as pre-marital sex was against Tamil culture. Apparently beating unarmed women with brooms and chappals was very much a part of Tamil culture. And incidentally, Tiruchengode- a place in TN supposedly has amongst the highest AIDS ratios in the country.  While people conveniently give up their culture for convenience, there seems to be a huge uproar when other people give up theirs. Slavery, sati system, dowry system, and untouchability were all a part of the past. Should we continue clinging to them ridiculously as giving them up would mean that we are disowning our past?

This is not to say that we shun everything in our quest for progression and convenience. A lot of people strive to protect parts of their culture-specially when it is art. Usually a lost craft, a disappearing style of music or dance, or a language which is fast moving into obscurity are  forms of art that people cherish and therefore, struggle to preserve. That is preserving beauty for the sake of beauty.  There is no reason hold on  to silly practices that bring no joy to anyone and have no tangible use.

What  is even more irksome is that all this is done under the name of Hinduism. It is one of the most tolerant systems in the world. It imposes no restrictions, judges no one and offers everyone a guidance to lead a good life. So, this is for all the bigots- be as judgemental,  homophobic and intolerant as you wish to be. But dont blame it on the gods. They are all inclusive.

No one knows who killed Aarushi..

.. but its clear the Talwars were killed by the media.  Goes a status update by Ramesh Srivats, a popular social media personality.


I completely agree. I have ranted earlier about the uselessness of the Indian media, but they seem to be stooping even lower than the abysmally low standards they have set for themselves. In this case, they have assumed the worst in every human being involved in the case- it was conjectured that the victim- a Delhi schoolgirl was involved in an affair with their old cook, the father, who along with his wife, murdered his daughter, had an affair with someone else, the mother is a stone who assisted her husband in murdering her own child, while being aware of her husband having an affair.

Maybe its the middle class educated person in me speaking- but none of this makes any sense. I refuse to believe that parents who had a normal relationship with their daughter and bought her gifts on her birthday would do something gruesome the same night. I refuse to believe that the parents would come together and plot the murder of their child.  You can argue taht there are psychopaths everywhere and I am biased because of their education/affluence. I would have agreed had it been the mother killing her child or the father killing the child. Two psychopaths getting together, staying married, leading a happy normal family life and suddenly deciding to gruesomely murder their daughter just doesnt make sense. And most importantly the cook murder business makes no sense.  It is just the kind of nonsense an impulsive murderer would do, not a carefully manipulative psychopath. If nothing, I think I can vouch for teh Talwars' intelligence- if two doctors are planning a murder, they wouldnt do such a botchy job. And the "honour killing" which our media has taken a fancy to- seems so beyond reality.

Regardless of my opinions, the world is a strange place and any thing is possible- the way the media handled this was shameful, to say the least. With absolutely no benefit to the accused, with no concern about the fact that they might be parents grieving the death of their only daughter, they were baying for stories like a bunch of bloodthirsty wolves.  All journalistic ethics and human compassion flew out the window as they competed with each other to produce the most sensationalist bit of this whole episode. If one said the doctor had an affair, teh other rushed to accuse the mother of being a stone, and yet another channel couldnt stop talking about the affair the young school girl had with teh cook. No one stopped to think what a horrid thing this was to do- IF the Talwars were pronounced innocent by the court. Now that they have been proven guilty, it puts things in a different spin. Am sure very soon we will hear the distinguished opinions of Alyque Padamsee and Chetan Bhagat on the matter of parents killing their own kids.  But had they been proven innocent, will the media ever realise that not only did they act so insensitively towards two perfectly decent people who had lost their daughter, but also defamed them and changed their lives so much for the worse? Would they have been able to get back to regular life ?

And from what little I have read of the case, there seem to be too many holes.  Having watched a few episodes of  " The Practice" I would have thought it wouldnt pass muster in the courts.  Anyways I dont know.  This post is not to debate whether the judgement was right or wrong. This is about how the media pronounced them guilty long before the courts did. And did so in the most sensationalist way possible, that no one involved in the story got out unscathed. Its as if they thought " Hmm, whats the worst thing this person can do in this situation?" and went right ahead and accused them of that.

We call them the watchdogs of the society, but sometimes they become the bloodthirsty hounds we all fear.

PS: I was reading about this case, after writing this post and one of the links said " the truth is an inadequate weapon".

City of Djinns

As a typical South Indian (think- half Saree and jasmine flowers)  with a love for filter coffee and curd rice, it came as much as  a surprise to me as it it to my friends that I love Delhi so much.  Yes, Delhi is filled with Punjabi snobbish types, yes, Delhi is a rape capital and makes you feel extremely unsafe, and most definitely yes- I am seen as a "Saawth Indian" by most Delhi-ites ( Most of whom think Cochin is in Tamil Nadu and that we eat dosa and zaambar for breakfast, lunch and dinner.  But not to sell them short- for the longest time anyone above the Vindhyas was "Hindi" to us and Sardarjis were all fools . I am glad to say I have changed my opinion about one at least :P ). Most of the stereotypes about Delhi are unfortunately true- it is every bit a City of Sperms and most of them cant think of/imagine that there is life outside Delhi.

Having lived near the city for a couple of years however has made me see things a little bit differently though- it helps that the city is so beautiful.  Most of my earlier memories of the city are from my campus days when we used it as a transit point and therefore all I remember are the sweaty dirty railway stations, the creepy men around the Delhi stations and the general poverty. But most of the rest of Delhi is so beautiful and so bloody green- it would put certain parts of Bangalore to shame ( the Bangalore of my childhood and the Bangalore of my imagination, mostly. Real Bangalore is beautiful in parts too, but not half as much as I imagine it to be). Delhi winters in morning is definitely amongst the most beautiful things I have seen- So much greenery shrouded in fog gives a sort of a mystical fairy tale quality to the place.  Even commuting in this city seems like traveling.

Delhi to me is spending afternoons wandering through Dilli haat and looking at beautiful handicrafts. Delhi to me is meandering through random markets and coming across exotic spices, randomly beautiful pottery, heavenly roadside tea and brilliant paranthas and pani-puris. Delhi to me is the bustling madness of Chandni chowk- insanely great food  and sweets and a view of the Red Fort. Delhi is the colorful summer markets of Sarojini which  transforms  into a  more solemn winter market by October. Delhi, to me is the luxury of space- roads are wider than in most cities, homes are so spacious and there are parks in every streetcorner that would be bigger than Sanjay Gandhi national park.

And the best part of Delhi is all the history it has soaked up without making such a big deal of it. There are monuments and old ruins everywhere- here you see one tomb of some poet where the neighbourhood kids play street cricket, few blocks away is another ruin where middle aged men chill out with their drinks. There are so many many ruins that pop up unannounced as you drive, with no one to care for them, no one to brand them as tourist spots and charge a few bucks to enter. One of the best spots I have been to in Delhi is a tomb of some obscure Khan oposite the Qutab. The place is on a level higher than the road, so at once you are in an old structure from where you can see the Delhi traffic but should you choose to not see it , you can look straight ahead at the beautiful Qutab and the greenery around. That is the image I carry when I think of Delhi.  William Dalrymple ( whose book I have just started reading, which is the inspiration for this post) compares the city to Rome and Istanbul- modern cities which so much of history in them. While I wouldnt go so far as to compare it to Istanbul ( despite never having been there) Delhi does have enough crumbling ruins and monuments to keep you interested and intrigued. And the residents have taken it in their stride- Lodhi gardens - the summer palace of some king- has a water body right in the middle of a vast expanse of garden cum forest, a tomb right in the middle of the greenery and what do people do with it?  Use it for morning  walks. There is an Agrasen ki baoli which is right in the middle of connaught place- A damn stepwell in a shopping district. The sheer numbers of monuments which are neglected makes it even more interesting for me than if they had been protected and wrapped in tourist-friendly packaging.

Even the tiniest and most obscure of them give me so much happiness and a sense of joy- almost enough for me to overlook the straight haired "Delhiness" of the people.