I had no idea that its gonna be so difficult to prove my identity to the others. Never in my entire life did I have an issue of identity which I face today. What’s in a name was what I believed. “Oh hella lot than what you think baby” is what I realised.

Recently I joined a reputed news channel as an intern. Wow, what an office! Fully air conditioned (first priority in this scandalous summer), excellent team (I’m bound to say that!) and hectic work schedule. I guess interns all over the world face this issue of posh companies becoming sweatshops for the interns which should be taken to the Human Rights Commission and it should be debated in parliament about the rights of the interns and... well my point is that its a hectic work schedule. So, in the entire hullabaloo, the issue of my identity became a huge problem with the ID card sensors placed everywhere in the building so I had to use the card even to go to a loo.

To a girl who has the ingredient of self-respect a little too high in her, the authority questioning her identity became an egoistic matter. Not that I’m egoistic, mind you, I’m as down to earth as an old pair of shoes, according to Linda Goodman but you would be pissed off too if every time you are asked, ‘Madam, your ID card’ even in the midst of heavy work. Like a beggar begging for his alms, argh!

During one of my outdoor shoots, I was roaming in the company's vehicle and when I got down from that and walked through the office gate, the security guard stopped me and asked, 'Madam your ID card'. Now think, A poor, hard-working girl who has been on outdoor shoots almost the entire afternoon under the gruelling sun, comes back with an excellent footage for the TV programme is stopped by a puny, pesky security guard who is demanding for her identity card. That's it. Enough is enough. In my most venomously sarcastic tone, I asked him, "Mr Security Guard, (dung brain, I thought) is it possible for an outside person to come in the company vehicle?"

He gulped and said, "No ma'am"

"Then why are you asking me an identity card knowing fully well that I'm working here from the past five days and you've been seeing my face from the past five days and that I have just come back from work in the company's vehicle which is an identity in itself, haan?"

He gave a smile and sent me in. If my eyes could spit fire, he would have burnt down to ashes.

But today, I'm happy. I'm so happy, I could fly. Because finally I got the weapon to destroy their vainglory. I got my ID card, finally. And when he ritualistically tried to stop me again from going inside today, I flashed my ID card on his face and smiled at him rather sarcastically, as if to say, "Look here you dungbrains, I finally got my ID card. Here, See for it yourself". He smiled at me, rather sweetly which washed away the sarcasm in me. I stopped near him and clapped his hand and said, I got my ID card, see". He smiled and waved his hand. I felt small. He is great, not me. He was doing his duty, that's it!

Hit Back the Recession

Recession has hit everyone! But you don’t worry because there are some of the most safe and sound jobs which are resistant to the recession, it’s not all that scary, you know. But a word of caution to everyone- it’s for all those people whose mantra is- I-would-do-anything-good-for-money. The top five jobs during recession:
Panipuriwalla: Safe, low cost job. Of course the cost of the raw materials may increase but it can be mitigated during the sales. What’s more, you are the boss and to fill your own stomach with your own food would be the icing on the cake.
Beauty’s still in : Oh yeah, recession or not, there would be many women(and men) who would be bothered about their body hair or body tan so beauty parlors would be a great option, the in-thing, especially when you need to look good, either to win a singing competition or becoming a model or even to get married.
Participate in a reality show: Did your grandma’s daughter’s son’s uncle’s wife’s brother’s sister tell you that you are a good singer? Its time you take it pretty seriously and start sharpening your vocal cords. It’s a foolproof method to hit back the recession. What’s more? You will get name and fame too. All you need to do is sit with your newfound singing guru and practice till your neighbor’s dog starts barking loudly (that’s just to show that you got competition). Contacts with the respective TV channels will also help.
Pavement shops: Strictly for those who believe in the notion of dignity of labour. Who would want to buy those big brands with equally big prices? So the best options would be to sell stuff at rock-bottom prices, wholesale prices would anyways be less, so its profit and profit all the way.
Finally, writing. Freelance writing is hardly affected by recession. So if you think that your pen is mightier than your sword, go for it, for sky’s the limit. No, the limit is the editor’s patience!

Of Tradition and Women

As much as it sounds cliched, the crimes on women are increasing at an alarming rate. No, dont shout at me saying, "What the hell yaar, they are already high in numbers". I know. But the states of Andhra Pradesh and Karnataka have proved this hypothesis to be practically true, with examples like the acid attacks on women and kidnapping of MP's daughter and the Mangalore pub incident when innocent women having fun were dragged out of the pub and beaten up by someone called as ‘Shri Ram Sene’ because they were against the Indian tradition and culture( Bhagwan Ramji, I hope aap sun rahen ho aur dekh rahen ho)

Apart from the issue of human rights, the fact that one of those incidents ie, the attack on Managalore pub, was done in the name of God and Hindu tradition was highly infuriating. As far as I could understand, the culture that these people are talking of is about the place of women in the society- the one and only, home. As much as that sounds male chauvinistic in today's world, these people really don’t seem know what the real tradition is. True, history reveals that the women were confined to kitchen and home while the men went to work. It has been perceived by these male bastions that because women were confined to kitchen (read home), they are not supposed to go out at all. But do they know how important it is for the women to be in their place, in their role?

When a male spouse dies, the women is not allowed to re-marry, they generally don’t in a conservative society, although the scene's changing slowly. But when the female spouse dies, most of the men think of remarriage, at least there would be pressure from the society. That’s because the traditional men cannot even dream of taking the role of women- to cook and clean and other household chores. Yes, there are exceptions in this case and I express my deep gratitude to all those men. The actual tradition about women, written in the Vedas says this- “Women are worthy of worship. They are the fate of the household, the lamp of enlightenment for all in the household. They bring solace to the family and are an integral part of dharmic life. Even heaven is under the control of women. The gods reside in those households where women are worshipped and in households where women are slighted all efforts at improvement go in vain.” Manusmriti 3-56

“O bride! May the knowledge of the Vedas be in front of you and behind you, in your centre and in your ends. May you conduct your life after attaining the knowledge of the Vedas. May you be benevolent, the harbinger of good fortune and health and live in great dignity and indeed be illumined in your husband’s home.” Atharva Veda 14-1-64.

“The wife should do agnihotra (yagna), sandhya (puja) and all other daily religious rituals. If, for some reason, her husband is not present, the woman alone has full rights to do yagna.” Rigveda Samhita, part 1, sukta 79, sloka 872.

Women were considered the great embodiment of virtue and wisdom. They were allowed full freedom of worship. Their household chores were not considered as sundry and insignificant but they were respected for it. When the Hindu tradition preaches us to respect women, why in the name of god (literally) are these men committing crime on women? These give a bad impression of the sacred texts like the Vedas. Oh Lord, please descend to the sinful earth from the Heaven above and free these mortals from the clutches of ignorance.

Courtesy: http://www.ivarta.com/columns/OL_070503.htm

Just an Experience

What are the modes of entertainment??? Well one may find it rather effortless to say that it’s TV, Radio (mostly fm, as of now), movies, Internet (how can this be at the last?!) and et cetera. But I contradict this statement. According to me, the best form of entertainment is visiting a shopping mall. Now I know there may be naysayer arguing about my statement (no offence friends! After all, every human being differs from one another) but this is said out of my ‘wonderful experience’. So, let’s not get ourselves into the arduous task of argument. So, yes, I stick to my statement that visiting a mall is another form of entertainment, especially on weekends when you haven’t got even a 10-rupee ticket for a T rated movie! I was especially bored on one Sunday and I couldn’t sit mooning around the whole day so I decided to hit the roads. I preferred to travel in a local RTC bus because it’s always fun watching other people do their little affairs (pun intended) in the six-tyred metal box called as bus. And secondly, I did not have any other modes of transport. So I sprinted like a deer and caught a bus to one of the biggest malls of my city, Big Bazaar! Well, I aint in a Mumbai or some metro so I had meager choice.
Gone are those days when purchasing things from the market was such a boring affair. But today, it’s a multi-million industry where the head honchos are cashing on the shopping abilities. Now, people visit shopping malls for no reason; who said we have to buy something every time we go?!
I caught an early bus at around 5 pm in the evening and luckily got a window seat. The metal box was later full, with families wanting to visit the parks and movie theatres and so on. It was only I who realized that a plethora of emotions would be seen in the mall which is no less than a movie in itself! I would spread the message of this unique form of entertainment to the entire world and become famous and Her Highness Ms. President would want to meet me to see the genius who sent waves of revolution in the entertainment industry…and suddenly I heard a loud, shrilling, ear-piercing cry of a baby. It took me a minute to realize that a baby was sitting right beside me, carried by a heavy woman in red sari, a danger sign! I was aggravated by the heavy lady who stymied like a bone in a fish into my wonderful dream. But then I regained composure and sat quietly, forcefully staring out of the window, fuming in myself. Suddenly, the conductor was acting rather weird, staring down searching for something. After enquiry, I found that he accidentally dropped two five-rupee coins. I pitied him and helped him search for his precious coins. After sometime, we finally found the coins and when I came back to my seat, it was already occupied by someone else. So much for my “altruistic behaviour”. I gave a disgusted look to her and stood there. To top it all, the bus was so fast that even a cycle-peddler could get down and walk with his cycle and still reach his destination faster us. Mercury levels were rising inside me and I was afraid that my skull would pop up like a rail engine and release smoke, just like in one of those cartoons of Tom and Jerry. After some time, the bus was so full; I was on my emotional ‘peak’ and could probably ‘tumble’ down from there any second.

I reached my destination finally (with a couple of foot stamps and frizzled hair) and went inside the huge four-storied building, now swarming with people. Two security guards were in their full zing as if to pounce anyone doing any mischief. I passed the two giants and went to a clothes counter. I was walking, or was I? No. I was being transported by a bunch of people, or shall I say, a herd of people like in a Mumbai local train. And all I could do was stand there, petrified. There was an intense rush of adrenaline as I saw the crowd in the lift. I couldn’t help but take the stairs and half through them, remembered that there is an escalator too. Grumbling, I went to the books counter and was browsing through it when suddenly I see that there were shrilling sounds heard. It took me a moment to realize that there was a music counter nearby and the weird sounds like banging plates was coming from there. Frustrated, I went to the food counter and I see huge carts of food items and other stuff full to the brim are being pulled by the women and men. Some with their kids on the carts as if that’s some roller-coaster ride. All the same, the kids seem to enjoy the ride on those carts with small wheels. With lot of difficulty, I slithered through the carts to pick up some food stuff and headed to the cash counter. I noticed a couple standing with their kid on the cart. The kid started yelling loudly, “Mom, why can’t you buy that? I like it. I want it”. The mother spoke in a low voice, “Listen I got everything for you. Now don’t make a fuss here or else I’ll leave you here and go.” The kid seemed stubborn. He begged his father, “Dad, pleeeeease I really want it. Can we please take it? Pleeeeeeeeeeease.” But it didn’t work. His dad gave an I-cant-help-it-son look to him and the kid became more frustrated and started wailing loudly. It was not until the mall authorities had come and threatened the parents of a police case of creating nuisance in the mall did the child stop crying. I felt relieved and compassionate over the kid whose poignant state of affairs had a wave of commiseration rise in my heart. Suddenly, it was replaced by a sense of nostalgia for me; I used to nag my mother about various things like chocolates and junk food whenever I went to market with her. I smiled to myself and asked her, “What did he ask, aunty?” she looked at me and said, “Oh the usual toy stuff. But he got lots of them at home so I refused. That’s why he’s nagging.” I wanted to give a try and turned to the kid and said, “Hi, if you behave properly today, I’ll give you a chocolate. Will you?” The kid gazed at me for a second and nodded. I grinned and went away. To my surprise, the kid behaved very responsibly (of course, with a tinge of sulk on his face) and helped his mother. I kept my promise and gave the kid a chocolate and kissed him on his cheek. He grinned broadly and went away. Thanks to the kid, my childhood days were as fresh as the dew drops on a leaf. I realized that there’s no point being a goody-in-two-shoes during childhood coz we would not have wonderful memories!! I smiled to myself, thinking that visiting a shopping mall; there would be a different experience every time.

I have never been away from my parents in my twenty years of life which means I had my share of pampering and restrictions all through my life. When I stepped into the hostel for the first time, I felt I was gaining something- the freedom but I didn’t have the faintest idea of what I was losing, the due realization of which struck my head a few days later. OK, it’s a hostel, which means a myriad of people and a plethora of experiences, one of which is about to flow from the bottom of my heart…
The great family-free morning arrived and I got up…really late. I checked the time- 7:30 am. “Oh my god”, I realized “time to have my breakfast in the mess”. I jumped from my bed and sprinted into the common bathroom, only to find my hostel mates brushing their teeth, occupying all the wash basins. Time ticked by and I had to wait for my turn to do the teeth-cleaning. Later, I rushed back to my room, picked up my bucket and clothes and came back to the bathroom for a bath, only to see a long queue of girls, standing with colorful buckets and equally colorful towels and waiting for their turn patiently. I was instantly frustrated (no surprises there) and was cursing Time which moved on and on, as if it was chased by a mad dog. I took a quick bath [a sympathetic gesture towards the other girls;)] and rushed into my room. It was 8:30 am. I dressed up and picked up my coffee mug and ran towards the mess. Alas! There was a bigger queue waiting in front of the mess door waiting for their share of hot breakfast. A bigger queue than that would be in front of a blockbuster movie. Suddenly fear gripped me and I prayed to the Almighty to help me out of the horrifying situation. I was terribly late. I realized that I had to choose from the two options available- skip the breakfast and reach the class on time or eat to my heart’s content and skip the class. I felt like Abhimanyu in Mahabaharat, stuck in a chakravyooh of Time. How I wish I could stop the time, I wondered. Finally, after the ritualistic lip-chewing and nail-biting, I decided to skip the breakfast but as I said, Time was playing games with me. I rushed to the general store and ate biscuits on the way, cursing the Time. Suddenly I wondered, “I was never late when I was at home. In fact, I was appreciated by my lecturers for my punctuality. Why am I late now?” and then I reeled back to the days at home- Mom woke me up at 6:30 am (I get up at 7:30), brushed my teeth, Mom gave coffee, read news paper, Mom pressed the clothes, Mom gave hot water for bath, Mom prepared breakfast, Mom fed me almost everyday and I catch a bus and travel half an hour and reach college on time. And BAM!! The truth hit me hard. Of course, there was more of Mom, less of me. And as if Buddha had his revelation under a tree, I had this striking revelation near one of the dustbins on my way. I composed myself to work out everything from the next day. It wasn’t easy. And today I can say that I do all my work on time with little bit of planning (and a lot of grunts) and I’m never late again.
Let me tell you, hostel sure gives you independence but teaches you responsibility. And today, Time is my best friend:)