The unsaid... The unheard... The unseen!

                                                     I have a huge confession to make. I hadn't seen Pink. Me. Someone who talks about feminism as much as she talks about food. In my defence I had read and heard about it. And I knew what it entailed and applauded the concept of women standing up for themselves against the lifelong bullies... Men.
                                                     I finally saw the movie today. Thought it would be a nice start to a lazy weekend. And while I watched all I kept thinking was this is so true. So true. I am still struggling to come to terms with the balls, yes balls, these women had. Even in a fictional world it must be hard for them to portray characters which are not only self-assured but also strong enough to take on the powerful and connected of the world.
                                                 
I wish I could say that was true of me and the women around me. We all pretend to be these self-sufficient, gutsy, independent women who are living alone and making it in the world. But we never do stand up for ourselves. So I would like to apologize.
                                                   I apologize that I don't take the metro if I'm in a dress or short skirt. I'm sorry that I have left jobs because my reporting boss would talk to my chest and not my face. I'm sorry I never had the guts to complain about the colleagues and seniors who would undermine my work because I was a woman.
                                                  I am sorry that I worked in newsrooms where a bra strap and short dress led to 'healthy' flirting while enraged lines flashed on the screen about the woman's right to say no. I'm sorry that I made fun of the girl who didn't get news, but who did get ahead by getting around. I didn't realise that it was your way of surviving.
                                               
 Pink. It made me realise that as an Indian woman I shouldn't expect much. I'm responsible for my safety. A prostitute because of her profession has no rights to say no. A woman with her bra strap showing is asking to be started at. A woman when drinking and clubbing and living alone is just waiting for a man to sex her up.
                                                   Pink. A movie that makes us realise that the evils, talk about it and then brush it under the carpet because we all live in the real world where we know the boys would have won and Minal would have been raped while in jail. Where you realise that you still need a man while fighting your battles because you just can't do it alone. That it takes a man to make another realise that a no from a woman does indeed mean 'no'.
                                                 Pink. A movie that made me grateful for where I work today, for where I live and who my friends are.
                                                So while you wonder why the rant, think about the stats- 1 out of every 5 women you know has been molested; molested, not cat-called, not leched at, but actually, physically molested. And ask yourself-man and woman- why don't we stand up while I sit here asking myself the same...

WITHOUT YOU

How will I live without you?

Without the tinkling of your voice in my ear

Without the goosebumps from your goodmorning?

Without the smile in your tone that I love to hear?

How will I live without you?

Without the kindness in your eyes that I adore?

Without the stolen glances and the simple reality?

Without being in the place we were before?

How will I live without you?

Without the shore that helped me fight the whirlpool?

Without the anchor that kept me safe for so long?

Without the shelter from the world's storm so cruel?

How will I live without you?

Without the lullaby that lulled me to sleep each night?

Without the gentle hand that rocked and warmed me?

Without the blanket of love that I hugged so tight?

How will I live without you?

With these empty spaces that I don't know how to fill?

With these memories that leave me restless yet so still?

With these dying dreams that I can't bring myself to kill?

OF DELHI RAINS AND THE ROT...

                                 Returning to the City of Djinns  after 8 years, I came back with a lot of hopes, and bags of expectations. My friends in Mumbai warned about Delhi being soulless but I scoffed at them. I remembered with fondness my youthful days- the radical will to challenge, supported by my amazing faculty at LSR, the dreams of yonder years and I couldn't wait to leave behind the unending grind that is the Mumbai-based life. Yet, two months after, the rose-tinted glasses are off and I realised that the city is just as its rain- all thunder and no storm...
                                   The first thing that hit me was the scorching heat of the city- unforgiving, relentless, merciless-much like the people, cruel-without-need, merciless-without-limit; chipping away at the humanity of the soul, scratching away till only the bone is exposed and then gnawing at it like the rabid dog driven senseless by the heat! The city which is the capital of the country reflects the increasing inhumane spirit the country is descending into. We, the decedents of Chanakya, Ashoka, Kabir and Buddha seemed to have lost our way in the world. From the spiritual to the materialistic, from the simple to the hyper-complex, from the soul to the flesh... I had hoped that with the rains, the strong winds would clean us of all that weigh us down, but instead, Delhi rains disappoint, giving us a glimpse of what can be, but never cleansing. The heat always returns, and it highlights the harsh realities of the world around us.                                

Delhi meri jaan...How many of us have heard this? But where is the soul? The first showers in the city might wash away the day, but it always returns... Climbing out of the drains, the wind sweeping it up and challenging us with it, slapping us ion the face with it. But we just cover out faces, and keep going- each protecting oneself, uncaring of the person next to him/her. The fight for a metro seat, the haggling over the vegetables, the quick steps walk away even as a girl screams for help pierces the air is the norm. No one remembers the poor farmer in the air condition of the mall, no one remembers the old in the tight fit of the metro, no one remembers the lost innocence in the face of self-security.

                           Political disenchantment, stormy protests and accusations and the hunt for influence mark the streets of this seat pf power. But empowerment of the voiceless, equality, security of the weak is missing. The affluence dazzles, the political clout intimidates but warmth of a city that embraces is missing, idealism is squashes, individuality is mocked. I know times are changing, and you are either pro-government or anti-national, but I believe that never before has there been a bigger threat to the basic fabric of humanity and Delhi manages to epitomize that impending threat.

                                                  But, I believe that with each new season, the fight returns...Winters freezes the spread, spring brings new hope and with it the chance of growth and change. And therein lies the strength of the human race, the ability for change, to learn from our mistakes, to accept our mistakes, and with this hope I wait for the city to revive itself- to shed the rot and to embrace all we can have and all that we can be.
                                 

DRAGON TAMING OR JUMPING INTO THE FIRE?

The current Prime Minister has a weird way knack of being in news every time he decides to hitch a ride (and let's face it, he does do it A LOT!)...Now, now, before I get bashed up on Twitter he does do it so the country's foreign ties can flourish and the moolah can flow, so all good right? Anyways, that's for another day.... The recent trip to China has been all over news, social media and more (Man, I have to hire his PR firm..Wonder if it would do wonders for my career also?). Not to be a naysayer or anything, but is this fortune cookie another empty shell?

Although the media yesterday was splashed with words like 'stern message' & 'strong words never heard before', was there really anything new said? Maybeour PM said it in a more direct manner, but who can ever accuse Modi of being anything but? Remember the direct reference of Tibet being a part of China? I think it was more like a Freudian slip than a big political faux pas. But other than the stern message what are the key high lights of this 'new dawn' in the Indo-Sino relationship?

Modi's China visit had it all from hometown visits (another first), and visiting cultural heritage sites like Xi'an's Terracotta Warriors to the wrong map of India seeing air time on China's national news channel (just another day in the life of our hard working PM). But China's aggression when it comes to the border issues is no first...In fact the bilateral relations under both the NDA as well as the UPA has been rocky at best. Remember the infiltration bid by Chinese PLA in November to infiltrate into Ladakh soon after the President Xi Jingping's visit..Tough words or diplomacy both seem to have had little effect on Chinese aggression...

Of course the famous Chinese aggression hasn't really backtracked with the arrival of our 'formidable' PM Narendra Modi...Even as Modi landed in Xian, welcomed by the Chinese President Xi Jingping who breaking protocol welcomed a foreign delegate in his hometown for the first time (history being made here!), CCTV the national broadcaster for China aired a map show showing Arunachal Pradesh as a part of Tibet, while also a large part of Kashmir on the Indian map. The MEA & the govt of course hastened to demand a clarification from the Chinese Govt, which was followed by bilateral talks and an aggressive and stern message by Modi: 'Urge china to reconsider approach on some of the issues that hold bilateral ties back from realising full potential' & 'Reiterated importance of clarification on line of actual control'. 

Many have applauded the comments with Former External Affairs Minister Yashwant Sinha lauding Modi: 'Hope China realises it is dealing with a strong Indian & Prime Minister'. The visit has been quite fruitful, but PM Modi has stirred the Hornet's nest having promised issuing e-visas to the Chinese tourists, which is sure to draw flax from the opposition & give the security agencies heart palpitations. Some see this as a move to help the ongoing issue of Stapled Visas, but whether China will respond to this friendly gesture is yet to be seen. Although the two Asian giants have sought to talk through the issues amicably, there hasn't been any formal promise from China on the issuing of visas to people residing in PoK as well as Arunachal Pradesh

Even as security agencies scramble, the Indian Incorporate has a lot to celebrate. Over a period of two days the PM has been able to ink a lot of contracts between the two nations, with over 30 billion dollars garnered in way of foreign investment coming into the country. This seems to have bought cheer and is being lauded by most, but the troubles of trade deficit looms large over the Modi government. Also, never before has one heard a PM talk about the the finance strategy of a govt in such detail... Wonder if it was to untangle some of the chaos surrounding the bills pending in Parliament. The rush to assure investments seems both reassuring as well as a little desperate. But when the Prime Minister leaves for Mongolia, he will be leaving behind a pink sunset, full of promises...

The selfie taken by PM with Chinese Premier already has over a million likes on FB with Mark Zuckerberg liking it himself, has gone viral on the social media, and is being called 'World's mightiest Selfie' by Forbes. An impressive image it is, two powerful men smiling into the lens, men whose moves are being watched by the world but also those who men whose actions can impact the course of the world. So ponder this...is it one which to pull the wool over the world's eyes or one which will calm the troubled waters?

Cry of the unborn....

The crying doesn't stop
An anguished cry of the soul
Unending reach, the fatal drop
Shocked from its bed of coal

The unborn asks why
The innocent demands a reason
Unanswered questions with a heavy sigh
Dying with the shrivelled season

Torn, shattered,bruised n bleeding
Never questioning, not even pleading
Murdered without a prayer or goodbye
Unwanted, rejected, left to die

The foetus severed without a cause
Never given a wish, a hope or choice
The unborn, a ghost of what never was
The echo never ending, a strangled voice..

An anguished cry....

The whisper of support, the shout of anger,
The pull of a hug, the push that scars
The joy of rain, the devastation of flood
The warmth of sun, the desperation of drought.

Can you hear the wail of the hungry child?
Can you feel the anguish of her lost innocence?
Can u feel the tremble of the unshed tears?
Can you feel the heat of her hope dying?

A world which promises her smiles,
A love that promised to nurture,
A world that crushed her spirits,
A love that stole what remained like a vulture....

No words remain, no hope dares;
The heart remains an empty shell,
A walking death, freed from the snare
Forever meant to carry inside her hell!

The men in her life...

As  Valentine’s Day is around the corner, there are all kinds of mixed feelings in the air. Love, jealousy, regret, memories and most sadly lust. What got me thinking is that although almost everyone I meet tells me that it is so commercial, all seem to enjoy the wish of something as silly as happy hugs day! As Valentine’s Day approaches, me being the unabashed romantic, look back at the men in the my life (warning: It won’t be all that!)

Daddy’s Princess: The first man in every woman’s life is her father. No matter how, a father always has an impact on his daughter, be it one who abandoned her, or one who dotes on her even after she becomes a mother. Mine maybe a bit over bearing, a hard core disciplinarian, a hard man, but he taught me to care to hope and be silly, to forgive and  the most important to love without any rational thought (not sure if I like or hate this!). So here’s to the most important man in my life, my daddy dearest!

The Bear: This one of course is the one whom I used to carry on my shoulders down the stairs, who now carries me down the stairs! Who I pamper, bug irritate and embarrass the most. My darling bear, with his bear hugs and his childish demands is the apple of my eye, and the silly love of my life.

The First Love:  I think we today live in the generation of many loves, some starting as early as age 14. I was luckier to have felt all silly for the first time only after my first year in college ended. I have him to thank for silly days of puppy love, stupid tantrums, crazy fun and warmest of hugs. Everyone deserves a happy first love (if you can call it that), and I was very lucky mine was!

The Love Hater:  This one is a little hard to explain. Have you ever had someone who claims to love you, want to be with you, and then categorically, day in and day out just tell you your various flaws. Rant and rave about your negative impact, all the problems you cause and then claim that he just can’t live without you. Well, there you have it, the Love Hater, who claims to love you, but just the opposite seems real. Sometimes I wonder whether he wanted me to hate me, or if he was just trying to just make me grow up.

The Commitment Phobic: Now this one everyone knows. The one who is always there when things are easy, wants a happy, easy relationship; who runs faster than the wind when asked to be a support through tough times.  When the trust is broken, he will come back, and once back just do a little salsa dance on the heart again. But usually they do manage to make seemingly good friends. There is nothing wrong with I believe, as long as one is able to not make false promises. 

The Strength:  The favorite kind. The one who will be your strength, your support, a gentle heart and who will make you want to be yourself.  Even when I wasn’t me, he let m be whoever I was being because of faith that I would be back. It is the strength of conviction, of irrational faith, of silly hopes and of never ending optimist, of never giving up on me when I have given up on me that extends all the joy and wonderment which is this person.  

Everything said and done, I have only my valentine right here, (none of the above). Me 

Sunshine, Hope and Love

A feather light touch that tickles the air,
A whiff of summer; warmth of mother's care,
Sunshine fills the soul, bringing warmth and light,
The strength giving wings, the soul taking flight!

The dust swirls, dances and glides,
The river springs, gurgles and slides,
The mare runs free, no restraint, no rein,
The touch that heals, no scars, no pain!

A presence so strong it fills the void;
Barren no more, sunflowers sway overjoyed;
A thought that provokes, guides and molds,
The shining beacon, the hopeful roots that holds!

The Faceless Terror.....

THE FOOTSTEPS ECHOED LOUDLY IN HER EARS,
BLOOD THROBBING, POUNDING, PUSHING, HURTING,
PANIC TOOK SEIZE, THE WORDS MERGING INTO SLURS,
TAKING FLIGHT, A BEE ABOUT TO STING!

THE HAIR ESCAPE, TRAILING LIKE A SNAKE,
CHASED, GRABBED, PULLED AND TUGGED,
WIND SEEMED TO HOWL FOR HER SAKE,
SHE STUMBLED, CONFUSED, DAZED, DRUGGED!

HANDS REACHED OUT, CATCHING HOLD,
TAKING, CLAIMING, POSSESSING, DEFILING,
HER BREATH STOPPED, BLOOD RAN COLD,
AS FACELESS TERROR TOOK OVER HER SOUL!

A PEICE OF MEAT AND NOTHING MORE,
SHOWN HER PLACE, VALUE AN USE,
EVEN AS SHE FOUGHT, WAVES CRASHING ON THE SHORE,
LEFT BROKEN, PUNISHED FOREVER, NEVER AGAIN THE MUSE!

The fluttering butterfly...

Rotting wood, sinking mud, flies flying low
A path that disappears like smoke in the wild
Silence as thick as a frozen sheet of snow
Who could guess this once nursed a family, a child?

Years had not been neither loving nor kind,
Taking away the warmth, the softness, the calm
Leaving her barren, hard and blind
Not a soul to nurse her wound, not even the balm

Yet, the will stays unbroken, brittle but still
Fighting it out with the fire and the storm
The hope that was, the dream of the will,
A dazed moth, to its death drawn...

The promise of friends that would not part
Leaving her behind without a glance, forget a thought
An iron will kept her standing, with a shattered heart
Still searching for the same laughter, the fluttering butterfly uncaught!

Being a 'Monkey' at work!

                                  'Are you a monkey?' thundered rhetorically my irate senior yesterday.  This gentle manner of rebuke is quite common at my work place. My fault of course was that I was being myself, hyper ventilating over a new project at work. I have always been one with extreme sides, my biggest strength and fault. Working in an environment of extreme activity where every second matters has, let's just be honest about this, not helped at all! Thus resulting with the new christening "MONKEY"

This is not the first time that I have gently been reminded to realise that I am a novice in the field and that I have miles to go before I can even deem to think of myself as a 'trained' worker. 'You are a child in the organisation', I remember my Boss telling me one day when he caught me being a little confident in my work. Back then of course I used to think that I have learnt so much that I could do what was expected without any guidance. This one I managed to overcome with no effort from anyone, believe you me. Realising that each day brings a new lesson, not only from seniors but even from someone not a part of your work space has slowly dawned on me (lord I sound grown up!)

 Being a monkey isn't a bad thing though.I mean if most scientists are to believe we all have come from the monkeys. So I am a monkey at work. If logic is to be followed so were my seniors. I mean, they too must have started somewhere no? This only dawned upon me when I ran into seniors of my seniors. I think it is human nature to believe that the standard of excellence is what one sees before one. Only when exposed to various aspects of a role does one notice the cracks in the pedestal, as those who were so comfortably seated on it stumble and fall. So trail and error is the way as I hopefully progress following the age old path of evolution.





                                      

A need to change: A need to let me be!

                       From candle light vigils to media campaigns, from the glamour world coming out on the streets to the mournful reassurances of the political leaders, from Parliamentary debates to street side vandalism; the past two weeks have seen it all. It all came to an end, of sorts, on Saturday (labeled Black Saturday by some), when the girl who was the victim of the heinous act passed away in the middle of the night. What bothers me is not just the incident, not just the massive protest that followed, not even the questions that were raised by Abhijit Mukherjee on the nature of the protesters. What bothers me is that behind all the chaos, there is a mentality that still lives, quiet and stable.

                            The incidents of rape have not increased or decreased in the past two weeks. Yes the media today is floated with more incidents of rape than usual, but given the furor in society over the topic that is only to be expected. They feed the need of the hour, fueling the temper, as the who's who of the society demand changes to the law. The Government is scrambling to give in to the demands of the crowds while also maintain the constitutional stability of the structure. Yet, at the root of it all lies the problem that rape is considered in various perceptions by most, and the opinion is so varied that it not only shocks, it feels incredible to a simplistic mind like mine.
                   Perhaps the reason why the arguments seem so incredible and ludicrous to me is because I can never comprehend this act as anything but animalistic. The thought of one's space being so brutally invaded, the thought of being subject to the touch that not only abuses but also demeans, snatches one's selfship over own body; makes my skin crawl & perhaps that is the reason why I can never approach the subject with the casualness that most do. Given my natural aversion to the discussion of the subject. it is unlucky that I have been unable to escape this topic. But what is worse is that I have had to tolerate the various justifications that have been stated.
                 The most shocking statement that I heard was from a friend on the cool Christmas eve, as we sat under the trees and enjoyed a meal together. "I think"- he started quiet confidentially, "that not all, but almost 70% of the rapes are consensual." Apparently my aghast expression caught his attention and he rushed to explain that "Not all of them of course, but yes quiet a few. I mean how is it possible that one man can rape a woman who is not willing?"

This wasn't coming from an uneducated man, nor one who was conservative in his thought process. I wondered whether this is what the world has come to, a place where the leading patrons of society finds the idea of rape so alien. Another, an MBA spoke about the mental capabilities of the rapist justifying that one doesn't know what the rapist have been through, the life experiences that led to the act. Even if one was so inclined to look into the psyche of a rapist, I doubt one is inclined to excuse the act, no matter what they might have been through. For me, there is no excuse for one man or four men using and abusing another human being.

               What today needs to occur is not a change in the laws alone, but a change in the mentality of how we approach the system. One out of every five women you meet has been abused or molested in some form or the other. The statistics do not support our society, the views shock, the cases only make them worse. The movement, the reaction, all add to the growing need for reforms. Not only the men, but also the women need to look at our approach to the basic freedom of a woman.

                 I wear shorts, I wear skirts, I drink, I smoke, but I also wear a saree, enjoy celebrating my festivals as much as I enjoy a night out dancing and I deserve my freedom, my life. 

I deserve me. 

Work place and people

               I have not been able to write in a pretty long time, work has been crazy and I have been lazy. But, I am back. I have been so preoccupied that I have just stopped thinking, being and functioning. Work seems to have taken over life, and I am not really allowed to blog about work. Yet, this one is about not my office but some quirks of office which we all have seen, at least I think we all have seen.
The lazy one: Okay, so I work at this over the top hyper organisation, where it is always go, go go! I guess everyone feels like this about their respective job, but mine is truly crazy (and I love it!). Yet, in the corners of each department there are these figures who you see, sipping at their coffee, laughing at some joke, messaging, tweeting, keeping their nails clean, fixing their make up or scratching their balls! Theses people have some basic characteristics:
They always come looking for work, once everything seems to have calmed own, and the work has been pushed out;
They always seem to have disappeared when you are short of hands and there is a dire need of people;
They always seem to slip the net at the time of trouble;
And most importantly they will always seem the most alert when there is a boss around!
These are the worst sort of colleague one can be stuck with, and I luckily don't fall in the direct contact with any of them. I think I would have reached my boiling point much before and like a lot of the unlucky souls would have become a more cynical person!
The silent worker: This is my favourite kind! The quiet one who does all that needs to be done and more. This type is the most reliable of them all. Someone who comes in to give their hundred percent. This is the most unfortunate breed of workers, because they are the backbone of the organisation, and sadly they are also the least appreciated of the lot! The basic way of recognising them is to look for the one who is the most quiet, whose work is usually finished before others, and whom the juniors turn to for advise, and the senior turn to with instructions! These have been the most helpful in my field, and unluckily I do not interact with them either. These are the type of co-workers that all us wish we had, to save our ass, if nothing else!


The gossip: This one everyone knows. Just follow the whispers, the shrill laughter or the snide looks and you have discovered the gossip. They are like an epidemic, you find them everywhere! The pantry, the computer, the smoking zone, the corridor, you never know when or where you might run into one. You might here gossip about people you don't like, but remember they will also talk about you! no one is too big for their zone of speciality, and if you ask me, they are not even worth it! keeping a safe distance is the only option here.

The obsessive one: They exist just to make you look bad. They are hard workers, but do not confuse them with the silent workers. Most of the silent workers work below the surface, and go unnoticed by most. These are hard workers, thy are amazing, but they are also too much. They have lost the line between work and obsession. The best way of recognising them is that the characteristic red eyes, an almost dead social life or the complete lack of one, the way they get enraged over the slightest mistake, and the fact that they are amazing at what they do. You want to be like them, but it is not only hard, it is impossible. The obsessive lives, eats and exists on the work. The friend circle is at work, the best times spent are at work and you know that when they are at it you will see wonders!

The support: This is the group that you adore. The ones you call and whine to at the end of the day, who you take your coffee breaks with. If you are having a bad day, a quick trip to the pantry with an amazing bitching session, a message, a bbm and you are set. The people who make you smile. The attachment that you develop is mostly based on similar viewpoints, and in my case, food! Also, this group is special in your group of friends, as they comprehend the complexities of your problem and they turn into some of your most trusted and adored friends!

IMPASSE: Beginning of a new day

                        Imagine walking into office, and the first words you encounter is IMPASSE. Now imagine, that this is after a week of indecision; a week of trying to decide whether you should or shouldn't, could or couldn't; of looking for a place to stay (as I happen to live in a city that is perpetually in a state of real estate crisis); and a week of no sleep, food or rest! Yes, for me it was a sign from the lord above! Seems like I am ranting, no? Well I am. But what I wanted to get as was, how much do signs matter?
                          Do you believe in signs? A book that almost everybody recommends tells us that there are signs around us at all times, telling us what is going to happen, and it is up to us if we want to read them or not. Whimsical no? Serendipity,a movie that is famous (whether it is a chick flick or not, is another matter), is made on the concept that the universe gives us signs.
                        If it were true then I just bury myself for the coming few months. All the signs around me have been the same. Everything is topsy turvy, nothing seems right. I have always been on the wrong side of the obvious and lately it seems to only have worsened? So is it a sign that I was destined for a mess from early on? Should I just give in to this state of perpetual confusion, where nothing is static and everything is subject to change?
                        Questions, questions, and no way of knowing the answer! I guess only time will be able to tell!!!!

MEDIA: No longer a free word?

                              When was the last time that you heard someone talk about too much freedom of the press? Yesterday? I hear people complain about the same everyday! My parents, friends, even my doctor has something to say about the topic. It maybe because that I work in the media that I can't seem to avoid the topic. It can also be because I live in a country where there is a constant struggle between what should be, what is and what the people really want. Today, the question of twitter being blocked came up again. I think it is high time that we ask ourselves: Is the media really free?
                               The censorship that seems elusive to most is not just a threat, it is omnipotent presence in the media. We live in dangerous times, where the voice of one can lead to a riot, where a footage can lead to burnt remains, where a simple protest can lead to death! The power of the media is not to be underestimated but should it really be feared? In a country with the population as large as ours, is it wrong to ask for complete and unchecked censorship?
                            The power of the media does have its ramifications, but the thought of complete censorship seems not only dangerous, but also completely in violation of the spirit of our nation. Many jokes have circulated, many voices are heard. The government finds it dangerous that voices which disagree with its basic decrees can be so freely voiced. From cartoons, to tweets, to messages, all are being monitored. But, what really comes across is the weak base on which our country is running. If a society cannot accept all the diverging aspirations of its people, then are we really free?
                       In a society where the media is preparing for citizen journalism, this though process seems conflicting, contradictory and redundant. I wonder how many of us would like our voices suppressed? Yet, if you need to feel that freedom, shouldn't one also accommodate the needs, wants and viewpoints of others?
                           The media is the fourth estate of any society. If the voice of the media is being suppressed, doesn't it tantamount to suppressing the voice of society? What our time needs is a more accommodating and tolerant outlook, a development of a deeper understanding and a re-visitation of the basic humane ideologies.  

Gaga: Not just born this way

                        No, No! I am not saying that she has picked up a persona, she is who she is. I am not a very big little monster (if you know what I mean), I am a fan. I love her music, I love her art (and yes, I do think that what she creates is art!) Lady Gaga, she is a visionary, I think someone I can see having the same greatness of Madonna. I am not comparing her to Madonna, Madonna is my god, but she (Gaga) is my religion.



                         



But this blog is not about the glamorous part of her, no way! I mean I couldn't comment on that. I am too simple minded for that. I am going to talk about her, the little that I know, and more importantly, why I like her. I fell in love with her with her first album. I will be honest, a friend introduced me to her, with 'Bad Romance'; and the first time I saw it, I was taken aback, shocked and not exactly pleased. But within 3 days, and I remember this distinctively, I was singing... "My lashes are dry purple tear drops I cry" in the loo while having a bath. She got me through some of the most difficult times of my life.
                     
 Most of the people in my life do not understand my craze with this female. Most find her an odd artist, weird and eccentric (and this is me being polite of course). In fact my own sister was not able to comprehend why I adore her. She has mocked me, asked me why I would ever listen to something that sounds like noise? My bf has made faces, my mother asks me why there is such a lack of clothing in her closet, and so on. I think I have painted a wholesome picture here. But there is a honestly about her that is just amazing.
                       

Let me tell you what got me started on this blog, she was on air here, on VH1. Her stories from her life were not over the top. What I liked were that they were simple, a thought about her dad, a story of being bullied, of not having a voice, of wanting to be someone, of struggle of growth, of survival. It resonated with me in a simple way. her language was not the obvious, yet simple. The way she could explain her emotions, you knew that she was talking about herself, not something that was made up by the PR team. Yes, I know it was to promote her new album but the essence was her. It was about her awkward childhood, her love for her grandmother, the simplicity with which she looked up to Beyonce when she was a nobody. It resonates with me. There is a difference between being drunk with power and telling your story. I heard her telling her story.

                 This is starting to sound really soppy isnt it? Lord, I can be soppy. But not the lady. She really is a 'Lady', and I think everyone needs to be a little Gaga. I loved it when she said "That’s how I get home, its this jacket". The fact that for her a memory with a garment is a sense of belonging reflects who I would love to be. Right now, I belong almost no where, but I do have my memories. This is why I love her, her strength to be able to believe "I am going to marry the dark", reflects her mindset. It is about what you do wwith what you have, and she is for me just that.













 That is why even in my boring political, half boring crazy existence I find her as one of greatest salvation. People wear jewels and feel proud, she ears her quirkiness, she dares to be herself, and there in lies her beauty and the source of admiration.   Listen to her vision, look at her lyrics, dare to be different, learn who you are, turn the world inside out and downside up and life will be fine. Mine is getting there. This one is about her magic, and hope you can feel it too :)
                          
 

Excellence: Is it all that matters?

                      Guess what I have just been laughing at? Three Idiots. The 'silencer' speech just ended and the whole 'these ideals don't work in the real world' deal! I love the movie, like almost all Indians. Then again I am one of the leaders of the  'emotional wagon'. But on the verge of starting my actual career, I do have to ask, how much is excellence worth in the 'real' world?'


                   
  To be honest with you, I have no interest in the whole over the top excellence deal. I don't really care whether I am an over the top journalist, or if everyone knows my name. I in fact am one of those people who likes her life in a certain manner, a job that pays for my needs and my dreams, people I care about around me, loads to eat, chocolates and books. But the problem with this is that most people tell me I lack excellence and that I am not really motivated. I lack a drive to achieve excellence according to most! Sad, I know. I might even agree with those who say this. But who is to say that excellence is the answer?

                     The person who most recently gave me a lecture about this is one who really feels that she is giving her two hundred percent to her job. And to be fair, she does. Here are the facts, she is well known in her sphere of influence, gets bylines by the dozen and is found quite intimidating by most. She also hates her boss, wants to progress further but is constrained by her personal and certain regretful practical problems and is a little lost in the personal sphere of her life. Another one I know who loves his job is fast losing someone he cares for.

                    Neither of them see it as a problem in their pursuit of excellence. But who is to say that their idea of excellence is the right one? I mean there has to be more to life than excellence at what one does. In a world of cut throat of competition (I mean even Paris Hilton has competition about being the dumbest blonde!), is there no one who sees that a sense of happiness is something that can lead to an excellent existence? Or am I the one who needs to open her eyes and realize that a blind pursuit of power and position (and I am not talking about the shenanigans that the Congress or Mamta is investing in) all that matter?

Guilt: A underhanded emotion

                        I love myself. I have known people who are obsessed with themselves. I am not one of them (sad as it may sound), but I do adore myself. So much so that I believe that I am a very self centered person (one of my close friends accused me of being so just the other day!). But there are so many in my life who believe that I have a whole lot of good in me and that I am wonderful (sounds like I am full of myself doesn't it?). Well, this isn't about me, it is about this emotion that I often find myself experiencing: Guilt.

    I dont know much about others but I usually feel guilty maybe 5 times a day minimum. When i was little and I used to go to school, I used to feel guilty because I could and kids living on the street couldn't. I feel guilty when I see that there are people who are standing in the rain and do not have a proper shelter. I am what some of my friends call naive, but I see it as humanitarian, but very honestly, I just feel guilty. I`feel guilty when some kid comes up to me at the signal and says that he/she hasn't eaten all day and is hungry. I usually give them food while this friend frowns. I can't explain it to her. Yes, some buy drugs with it, it is a scam and what not, but I just feel guilty.

                 I don't feel guilty for seeking revenge. That's my diabolical side I suppose. I feel a cold satisfaction when I see people who have hurt me suffer. But, there are a number of times when I find myself doing things I would rather not do because of guilt. I end up not getting some things cause I know how much people around me have sacrified for me to reach a position. I know a number of people whose actions are motivated by guilt. Yet somehow the world looks upon guilt as a very negative emotion. I wonder why.


      Not to hurt anyone's sentiments, but one of the world's biggest religion is based on the feeling of guilt. Your savior died for you, so how can you not follow? Sounds familiar? Now, I am not stepping on any toes, I really think all religions are equal. My focus is on this concept of repentance and guilt. One cannot deny that it is a very powerful motivator. Parents tell kids, we work so hard, all for you, why don't you study? I mean it is a guilt trip of sorts. You cannot deny it.

                  Then why is that as soon as someone mentions guilt, that I end of feeling that the emotion is negative. It has this sort of context to it, something that has been fed to me since I was child perhaps? I think it is an emotion that should be celebrated, it leads to repentance. It makes a person think, to feel bad and then motivates one to do something about it.
                    Yes, it also makes suckers out of people like me, but what can you say. We are very lovable for it, and maybe if you feel more guilty, if you could turn your mind around about the concept of guilt, then you will too be a lovable if a little gullible!