Get tough, not rude...

Have you ever bullied someone? In the school fields? In the school bus, some junior at college? These were how my thoughts went as I lay with a book last night. I kept going back and forth the cobwebbed corridors of my memory, but could not cite up even one incident, where I had bullied someone. I got up, drank some water, and went to my daughter's room, she was awake still, reading a book. I asked her,"Have you ever been bullied at school?" The question was such because I cannot fathom her bullying even an ant to go the other way. She said, "Not exactly bullied mamma, but many a times I have had to do things which I didn't like because some senior asked me to in a stern voice.. Well that's not exactly bullying, now is it mamma?"

"No it isn't dear", I said and walked back to my bed. I have seen bullying and have always felt that the bullies were themselves insecure. Strong bodies, insecure souls. Why else would you gang up against a poor kid going home from school and snatch his bicycle and make him race you, knowing very well that there is no competition. Why would you threaten a small, frail boy to fist fights and blows, unless he did your homework for you. Why take away the spectacles from a kid and play 'catch' with it. I have never seen any mirth in any of these actions, have stood up quite a few times against them when in school. Though in later years, I have ignored many such instances that have crossed my vision due to inexcusable reasons like apathy or hurry.

I have also wondered at my son's behaviour time and again, his bullying nature towards his sister, who is three years older to him has caused a lot of reactions at home. Initially I thought that aggression was part of his nature, but on going to his school and meeting his teachers, I found that he is the most shy and least aggressive boy in class. Therein I found my answer.. In an eureka moment it was clear to me. The actions of my son and the various other bullies. Yes they chose their victims with utter care, only the ones that are weaker temperamentally and physically are bullied. In the presence of a stronger or equal opposition the bullies keep low. yes that was there insecurity, bullying was there feel good factor. An insecure day at school, a ridicule, or even getting bullied himself, could well be the reason of my son's actions towards his sister. That made me wonder, If I was right in taking the side of the apparent victim of a bullying session.. maybe I should have showered attention on the bully instead, maybe he was as frightened and desperate not to show. We were all kids after all and no kid can be framed.. he has a long road to travel.

By this time it was pretty late, and I kept worrying that if I didn't sleep now, I would invariably be late for waking my kids in the morning for school. And just as I was trying to count mental sheep to initiate the process of sleep, did I see myself bullying. Yes, I was a bully too, I who prided my self as being the most non violent person, time and again bullied coolies and rickshaw wallahs, for petty sums. I shouted and screamed at railways stations for a discount of 10 or 20 rupees. I haggled mercilessly with auto wallahs for what? the fun of it? I was so awake and so upright on the bed that moment. I had chosen my victim well too. I never dare to haggle at the fancy showrooms with their goods displayed with obnoxious price tags. Why? Because I feel powerless in that atmosphere. But a poor coolie whom if I pay an extra 10 rupee would probably bless me and my family, with him I am rude and insensitive. Under what, I thought till that moment was, standing up for my rights.. I was in fact bullying a fellow countryman.

Well needless to say, sleep did not come for the rest of the night.. and I finished the book I had started.

Re-arranging my prejudices

This one is inspired from a post made by a young blogger friend .. here goes

At school, my social studies teacher managed to bring in the entire world into the tiny class room, as kids of impressionable ages, we sat and almost watched her words. We loved the Freedom movement of India, felt the surge of national pride each time the freedom struggle was described. We visited the various states of India through her eyes and words, the beautiful seven sisters of the northeast, the majestic mystery of rajesthan, the lions of Gir, the temples of the south and the paradise called kashmir were as visible to us as the state we belonged to. Through her we learnt about the structure of society, of various types of government, we learnt of autocracy, dictatorship, democracy, socialism and capitalism.

That was our age of falling for ideals. Many of my friends, including me fell in love with the idea of socialism - an utopian state, a class less society, one for all and all for one. The vigour and the enthusiasm of our teacher made us believe in this ideal. we opposed capitalism, the industrial revolution was looked at only as a source of torture and endless hours of work for the labour class. We ignored all that was good about machines and factory systems, we ignored the massive inventions and the determined evolution of capitalism. For us it was simply a bane on society. The USSR was the place to be, Karl Marx and Lenin were the heroes. Belonging to Kolkata, this ideology was fully appreciated and promoted by my grandparents and various other elders of the family. I was thrilled to be RED and so were they.

We grew and ideologies changed, we started seeing the world through adult eyes and felt for the first time a contradiction. For the first time... I remember telling myself.. " Socialism looks a hell lot better on paper than in the queues I see waiting for a loaf of bread in the chilling winter nights of Russia." For the first time I looked again at Capitalism.. I sensed a freedom there, the freedom to choose my destiny, the freedom to work hard and reap the benefits. Yes I was in college now, almost ready to start a career, and Capitalism provided opportunities that I had failed to see in school, I had failed to see, the discrepeancy in socialism. Why I asked should I share the benefits of my hard work with a lazy bum, why should he get what I get, when he is not putting in even half my efforts?" And as if in validation to my thoughts Socialism was crumbling all over the Globe. "Yes!" I told myself, "My teacher didn't get it right!! Capitalism it is.."

Some more growing later.. a balanced view evolved. Nothing is probably right or wrong, there are shades that are grey in every sphere. In every structure, in every society, it is the flaws that probably make the structure unique. And so it is with these two economic philosophies . Socialism and Capitalism allure us based on our opportunistic nature or phase in life, similarly a lot of ideals lose their shine as we face the realities in life. Utopia becomes a state of mind and so do a lot of other things. None of us is beyond prejudice, because none of us is God. We deal with things the way it suits us best at a particular point in time. It is all fine to say, "I don't believe in casteism... " until its thrown on your face so close that you have no escape. That's when our reaction will prove the true mettle. I do not know how I will react, but I have no idealistic expectations from myself. But think about it.. prejudice is a two way thing... are not the victims prejudiced too?

Makhtoub..

"I don't want to to leave, I want my friends, my school, I belong here.. I feel at home, please let me stay." Fear of the unknown is not an acquired fear. We are not taught to be apprehensive of change, quite on the contrary, in fact. And yet the above refrain is the most repeated line of my life. I have moved from shore to shore, first it was dad looking for a better life and then it was the husband doing the same. I was told I had a mole under my feet and hence the nomadic life. Destiny wrapped up in a tiny mole at the bottom of my feet. Moved within the country and now beyond it. Have liked some places and adapted to others. Have made friends and let them go, have ended up building walls around me that are porous only to socialise, no more friendships please!! Packed up an entire household and put all the memories onto a cargo. Pots and pets have been left behind along with favourite corners and dear friends.

'Global citizens' is the term today. Stay connected - The World Wide Web has made that possible, distances are insignificant now. I am in touch with friends from my childhood, I know their life almost inside out and so do they. Pictures are exchanged, birthdays are wished with virtual cakes and balloons, even a tiny squabble within the family is shared and made light. Yes, Internet has definitely helped a lot. But it has not given me roots, its just made the traveling tolerable.

Quite a biased post am afraid, but that's my mood today!! Tomorrow will be a different day, a different mood, a different makhtoub..

Unsocial Socialising...

Why do we blog? We love to think, to write, to express in words or pictures our thoughts as well as aspirations. But is that all? What about the urgency we feel to make a post? or the high just after posting? There are anonymous bloggers who get a chance to say what they cannot in public, that bit I can understand, but why us? maybe the lack of funds for getting our thoughts published on paper, as a book. Perhaps the hunger for 'comments', for the number of hits, perhaps the addiction.. I cannot say it is just creativity.. somehow it rings false to me.

The internet has opened vistas of sometimes incomprehensible pleasures, the freedom to chat with long lost friends and make new ones on the way, is addictive beyond doubt. the social networking sites take gossip to extraordinary heights, information has never been so cheap neither so eager.

We learnt Pascal and C++ at school and thought nothing could be as offensive as that wierd TV like object. Kids today grow up downloading Hannah Montana songs and videos onto their orkut profiles. We preferred to run and play, or with adolesence, to walk down to the next block where our friends lived, to sit across, look in the eye and talk. Today my kids prefer to chill in an AC room with just the computer for company and probably a coke! spectacles are doing great business am sure but apart from them, who else is gaining?

Oh My God !!!

Have been reading a book called 'The life of Pi' loaned to me by a very dear friend and an avid reader. The book is by far one of the best books I have read in the recent years. Since reading it, I have been itching to write about religion. Have been warned that my blog post will be filled with hate comments.. hahhah, but as an itch cannot be tolerated beyond a limit.. so here goes. Thanks Joyeeta for lending me the book. This one's for you!!

Have grown up listening to tales about the Hindu Gods and Goddesses, the multitude of demons or rakshasas, The sheer power of the various avatars, and the beauty of the apsaras. have listened with rapt attention to my grandmother as she chewed on her betel leaf, made pickles, wove sweaters and narrated tale after tale of divine weapons, of curses and boons, of magical palaces and charmed forests. The glory of Brahma, Shiva and Vishnu, the wrath of Kali, the magic of krishna. Krishna was my chosen God, a true blue He-man, who could play the flute, dance in the moonlight, charm the ladies with his wit and pranks, and could still manage to wreck havoc at the enemy camps. He could easily put James Bond out of business!! Krishna was the most human of the Hindu Gods.

Later being schooled at convents, I was introduced to a different God. A god who looked shy and sad, whose claim to miracle was walking on water, and of curing people of their illnesses. I was surprised as to why was he suffering so much? How can God suffer? bear his own cross? Be pale with a ring of thorns around his head. Where were his divine weapons? Why was he always so sad and so forgiving? Why didn't he punish like my Hindu Gods? My krishna had so many lovers..why not? He was God, whereas, Christ couldn't even acknowledge his love for Mary Magdalene.

The message I had always got from the stories of Krishna was that of 'Karma'. To do your work without expecting results, but to do it with all you got. The message of Christ was that of love, selfless love and sacrifice. To suffer for your believers. Have till date not found any similarities between the two, Krishna awes me with his power and charisma. Christ makes me humble.

Am sure every religion has its own stories, its myths and miracles... but I cant get over Krishna opening his mouth to show the entire Universe to Arjun!! Who could beat that??

I write this without prejudice, and with humility.

Smelly socks and braces...

Siblings are the training ground for later relationships. This is one relation where two opposites(more often than not) face each other every day. They are forced to share stuff starting from books to clothes, a room to a computer, from TV time to Mommy time and worst of all wardrobe space. Its an open battlefield, with different skills of warfare practiced with elan. From needlings to blows, from boxing to tears, manipulations, negotiations and various degrees of complaints. It is also a bond that helps you weather all the battles life throws at you later.

My best friend's younger sister is getting married and he is going through the usual tensions and logistical issues that an elder brother has to go through. The arrangements, the invitations, the caterers, the venue, the conveyance, you name it. In between all these masculine tasks, he also has made an appointment for his sister at the best parlour in town. Has ordered loads of her favourite flowers for the D-day and many such small and easily sidestepped tasks are being taken care of. On asking why are you doing it all? Isn't there anyone to share the load? A simple answer follows - "Who else, shes my sister."

This is a relationship that is full of contrasts. You want the best for each other at the same time you want to be better than each other. You don't agree on most things, you play cruel pranks, you are possessive and yet can't stand each other for more than a few minutes. It usually takes a third party to bring out the fondness in this relationship. An outsider always comes along to bring to surface the undercurrents of love. Like the 'to be husband' of my friend's sister, in this case.

As kids you may fight tooth and nail about petty things, but the scene changes the moment another kid hits or snubs your sibling. The neighbourhood at such times gets a glimpse of the underlying affection and the protective bonding of this relation. My kids fight all the time, about everything under the sun, and inspite of knowing that this phase shall pass, I can't help getting mad and upset over these endless squabbles. Then I see my friend and his sister and I know, just why the fights are important, this is probably the only place we have where we can be what we are without apologies. Each of us needs a place like that, we also need a person to shout at, to express without fear our anger, to be vocal, to speak our mind without fearing the death of the relationship. As a single child, I have never had this privilege, to this day, a fight terrorizes me, makes me shy away from confrontations.

This bond unlike a romantic alliance, never becomes a weakness, it is always the strength. Where else in the world can you press your smelly socks to a nose, get beaten black and blue and still remain confident that nothings ever gonna change...

This one is for my best friend and his sister!!

The Colour of Raindrops...

"Oh how I long for the pitter patter of the raindrops... the smell of the wet earth, the fresh green of the leaves.. the scrubbed clean look of the town.. oh! oh!" This is usually the way a conversation goes amongst the NRI ladies. The decked up ladies with each part of their body coloured and in competition with the next sit sipping the choicest of wine and painting in glamorous hues the raindrops of India.

In another corner wearing my regular casuals, devoid of colour and conversation, and usually nursing a drink, sits yours truly. Also thinking about India, the rains. But try as I might, my romantic mind fails to conjure up the images so beautifully drawn by these ladies. Maybe I need a stiffer drink. What I see is continuous downpour for straight three to four months, water logging on the most important of thoroughfares, drainage water getting mixed with the drinking water pipelines causing a deluge of epidemics, trains and traffic at a standstill indefinitely, the poor and the homeless, which make more than 60% of our country at their worst, if that is possible and fathomable(God knows how many drinks to make that horror sink!). The homeless without even the barest of shelter now, the power cuts, the electrocutions, the wait by the window for someone close to return home to safety, the dreaded phone call announcing an accident...these are the images that flood me.

I get up and double my drink. What the hell? Why can't I see colour in the raindrops of India. I am in the same condition as these socialites, sitting in the middle of a rain deprived country, where no season makes any impact, as like the supermarkets which sell all types of veggies the year round, the homes here also maintain the same season all year round.. that of an impersonal, comfortable 22 degrees. So when they can sit in this dry comfort and visualise this idealistic image, why cant I?

Finally, I do see colour, yes the second drink is definitely helping. I see colour of fortitude in the men and women of my country who brave it in the rains each day to reach their workplaces, I see the colour of discipline in the school kids who have at the most, the luxury of a single rainy day holiday through the entire span of the three to four months of rain. The colour of hunger in the multitudes of bais who come each day to clean and scrub in various houses while worrying about their homes in danger of flooding, the colour of bravery in the jawans who stand vigil at the LOC whatever degree of rain. Yes, there is colour of joy in the children jumping puddles, in the lovers sharing an ice cream, in a hot mug of tea by the window after a long rainy day. But to remain spotless and dry, with not a smudge on your makeup, and romanticize the rains... is definitely a talent, drink or no drink!!

As a post script I would like to mention that none of us, NRIs plan our holidays to witness the romance of rains in our hometown though..we usually make it to India during the winters!! think about it...