auto publié: Tryst with Anna
Good write up! Although I have my reservations against the team Anna bill, I won't call it a 'joke' either. You're being overtly cynical. No doubt TV channels had a ball around these news yet I see it more than just a media sham.
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
I was bullied in school
School was not my best time! I was a shy, timid boy in a school of only boys. Trouble?
I was in the second standard when I had started to complain at home about school. My parents took their own time but it finally emerged that some other things other than studies or the teachers were boggling me down. Yes! The class bullies. They would say mean things and do mean things to me.
Back then my bench mates were the ‘good kids’. They always scored well; they had good ranks. They did their home-works well. They were from rich families. They were the exact antagonism of ‘bullies’. However, I was constantly ridiculed by all the three of them. They would hide my stuffs. They chopped off my erasers. They would break my pencil leads. They drew mean sketches in my books and note-books. One time they decided to pick their noses and stick up the pages of my book with the mucus! I was scared to go to school. I would make up excuses not to go to school- toothache, headache, stomach ache and the works. The ghastly images of those days will be indelibly imprinted in my head.
Always at the receiving end, I was never able to give them back. So much that at one point my parents sent my cousins (who were at the same school) to ‘help’ me out. They did come to the class. They were seniors and themselves bullies. Rather than helping me, they provoked the bullies and left me stranded among them! Talk about reconciliation!
Every day we would have one bench to clean the entire class. This would mean to broom the floor and dusting the teacher’s desk and chair. This was standard 5th. I went to the storeroom to get the broomstick. As I was inside the dark, unventilated room, they closed the door behind my back. I shouted and cried for help but nobody listened. I must have been inside for several minutes. When the door finally opened I was welcomed in the open with loud jeers!
As we grew up (or did we?), the intensity and context of the bullying increased. I was in 6th standard. I was urinating when a bunch of seniors came and turned me around thus, flashing me to everybody present. I was utterly embarrassed and tried to cover up the act by fastening the zip as hurriedly as possible; but the harm was already done. I felt ‘exposed’. I shivered at the harrowing idea of this ‘story’ being circulated around. Boy! Am I glad that back then school kids didn’t use video phones?
I remember always feeling like an alien in the class. As a result of all these mocking and bullying, my self confidence sunk low. I went from being a quiet child to an introvert. Teachers hardly knew my name. I was never into anything other than the books and exams. Come to think of it now, I was majorly spared from two things- name calling and physical abuse. I can’t even start to think how that would have gone.
It is important for a kid to make friends in school. The psyche of a kid is influenced a lot by anything which takes place in his early life. Childhood can indeed be marred with many a not so great experiences. Intervention by the parents and teachers would be the ideal thing to help any kid who is being bullied. Luckily I turned out just fine with my friends or my grades. It went on to improve once school got over. I miss school for few of my teachers and friends albeit I would still choose to hate my school days!
I was in the second standard when I had started to complain at home about school. My parents took their own time but it finally emerged that some other things other than studies or the teachers were boggling me down. Yes! The class bullies. They would say mean things and do mean things to me.
Back then my bench mates were the ‘good kids’. They always scored well; they had good ranks. They did their home-works well. They were from rich families. They were the exact antagonism of ‘bullies’. However, I was constantly ridiculed by all the three of them. They would hide my stuffs. They chopped off my erasers. They would break my pencil leads. They drew mean sketches in my books and note-books. One time they decided to pick their noses and stick up the pages of my book with the mucus! I was scared to go to school. I would make up excuses not to go to school- toothache, headache, stomach ache and the works. The ghastly images of those days will be indelibly imprinted in my head.
Always at the receiving end, I was never able to give them back. So much that at one point my parents sent my cousins (who were at the same school) to ‘help’ me out. They did come to the class. They were seniors and themselves bullies. Rather than helping me, they provoked the bullies and left me stranded among them! Talk about reconciliation!
Every day we would have one bench to clean the entire class. This would mean to broom the floor and dusting the teacher’s desk and chair. This was standard 5th. I went to the storeroom to get the broomstick. As I was inside the dark, unventilated room, they closed the door behind my back. I shouted and cried for help but nobody listened. I must have been inside for several minutes. When the door finally opened I was welcomed in the open with loud jeers!
As we grew up (or did we?), the intensity and context of the bullying increased. I was in 6th standard. I was urinating when a bunch of seniors came and turned me around thus, flashing me to everybody present. I was utterly embarrassed and tried to cover up the act by fastening the zip as hurriedly as possible; but the harm was already done. I felt ‘exposed’. I shivered at the harrowing idea of this ‘story’ being circulated around. Boy! Am I glad that back then school kids didn’t use video phones?
I remember always feeling like an alien in the class. As a result of all these mocking and bullying, my self confidence sunk low. I went from being a quiet child to an introvert. Teachers hardly knew my name. I was never into anything other than the books and exams. Come to think of it now, I was majorly spared from two things- name calling and physical abuse. I can’t even start to think how that would have gone.
It is important for a kid to make friends in school. The psyche of a kid is influenced a lot by anything which takes place in his early life. Childhood can indeed be marred with many a not so great experiences. Intervention by the parents and teachers would be the ideal thing to help any kid who is being bullied. Luckily I turned out just fine with my friends or my grades. It went on to improve once school got over. I miss school for few of my teachers and friends albeit I would still choose to hate my school days!
The Joy of reading self-help books
“Light a candle by your side as you read something in the evening. This will have a serene effect on you”, says Robin Sharma in his book ‘Megaliving’. Although I never really tried to do this, the very idea of it spellbinds you. After a long day at work, it would indeed be rejuvenating.
It is but most appropriately told- ‘Books are men’s best friend’. There is so much to learn from them; more so from self-help books. The term ‘self-help’ must not be seen in a derogatory sense. It wouldn’t dare to mean that you do ‘need help’. It would just be a book where the writer shares his experiences in life or the experiences of people he have come across (and maybe even helped). My tryst with self-help books began with Robin Sharma’s ‘The Monk Who Sold His Ferrari’. This book can also be seen as a philosophical allegory. It had a profound influence in my life. I took to reading more and understanding life better. In the process, I learnt yoga and got into the world of meditation. As a corollary I discovered myself. I always felt like an agnostic; this made me feel very guilty. Why can’t I be religious like other people? Now I know where I was headed to- spirituality! Turns out I am spiritual. The book indeed helped me open up myself to a whole new side of me. I re-affirmed my faith!
What is a self-help book? What does it deal with? Well, the definition is vast, in fact endless, according to me. I not only see personality development as ‘self-help’ but every other book can be seen as one. If you get to learn something from a book, it is self-help to me. Learning yoga, cooking or creative writing; these are few of the examples where people read, get the ‘gyan’ and probably apply it for their own good. Auto-biographies are also an imperial way to treat yourself. It helps a lot to read about famous men who have walked the planet. This, to me, is the beauty of books. Please help yourself. Grab a good book today!
There might be 101 suggestions given in a book. It doesn’t mean you take to all of them. Take 5 great ones among them and we are good to go. In fact, I don’t think any writer would even be so naïve to assume every reader would blindly follow him. When in doubt, always take to your own instincts. The thing to be noted here is this. In a world where we get really lesser and lesser to look up to, these books might just be the thing you needed. I don’t intend to get anyone into a bubble and start showing the world as all ideal and ever perfect. No, but there are certain things we gain from reading them. First, we get to a lost art called ‘reading’. It inculcates a habit which will not only utilize your free time usefully but will also be productive. This will be different from reading just a Chetan Bhagat or a Shidney Sheldon. Secondly, you will be surprised to know how much positivity these books emanate. They are a store house of wisdom and well crafted strategies to live life more successfully. And most importantly, they tell the stories of ordinary people like you and I who are striving towards stoicism. These are the stories of people who have refused to give up. It can’t harm you to share a few of them!
A word of caution can be given at this point. There is a flood of ‘self-help’ books in the market today. The only mantra here will be self-attestation. Use your taste to sort out the better ones from the not so good ones. Undergo homework before venturing out to buy one. Your online community or your book club will most certainly be glad to help you find a good self-help book. And most importantly, word of mouth advice from your friends. Let’s say the worst has happened! You landed up buying a book which turns out to be a total sham. Never mind! Here is what Robin Sharma says about a book you don’t like- “It’s OK not to finish a book if you don’t like it”!
It is but most appropriately told- ‘Books are men’s best friend’. There is so much to learn from them; more so from self-help books. The term ‘self-help’ must not be seen in a derogatory sense. It wouldn’t dare to mean that you do ‘need help’. It would just be a book where the writer shares his experiences in life or the experiences of people he have come across (and maybe even helped). My tryst with self-help books began with Robin Sharma’s ‘The Monk Who Sold His Ferrari’. This book can also be seen as a philosophical allegory. It had a profound influence in my life. I took to reading more and understanding life better. In the process, I learnt yoga and got into the world of meditation. As a corollary I discovered myself. I always felt like an agnostic; this made me feel very guilty. Why can’t I be religious like other people? Now I know where I was headed to- spirituality! Turns out I am spiritual. The book indeed helped me open up myself to a whole new side of me. I re-affirmed my faith!
What is a self-help book? What does it deal with? Well, the definition is vast, in fact endless, according to me. I not only see personality development as ‘self-help’ but every other book can be seen as one. If you get to learn something from a book, it is self-help to me. Learning yoga, cooking or creative writing; these are few of the examples where people read, get the ‘gyan’ and probably apply it for their own good. Auto-biographies are also an imperial way to treat yourself. It helps a lot to read about famous men who have walked the planet. This, to me, is the beauty of books. Please help yourself. Grab a good book today!
There might be 101 suggestions given in a book. It doesn’t mean you take to all of them. Take 5 great ones among them and we are good to go. In fact, I don’t think any writer would even be so naïve to assume every reader would blindly follow him. When in doubt, always take to your own instincts. The thing to be noted here is this. In a world where we get really lesser and lesser to look up to, these books might just be the thing you needed. I don’t intend to get anyone into a bubble and start showing the world as all ideal and ever perfect. No, but there are certain things we gain from reading them. First, we get to a lost art called ‘reading’. It inculcates a habit which will not only utilize your free time usefully but will also be productive. This will be different from reading just a Chetan Bhagat or a Shidney Sheldon. Secondly, you will be surprised to know how much positivity these books emanate. They are a store house of wisdom and well crafted strategies to live life more successfully. And most importantly, they tell the stories of ordinary people like you and I who are striving towards stoicism. These are the stories of people who have refused to give up. It can’t harm you to share a few of them!
A word of caution can be given at this point. There is a flood of ‘self-help’ books in the market today. The only mantra here will be self-attestation. Use your taste to sort out the better ones from the not so good ones. Undergo homework before venturing out to buy one. Your online community or your book club will most certainly be glad to help you find a good self-help book. And most importantly, word of mouth advice from your friends. Let’s say the worst has happened! You landed up buying a book which turns out to be a total sham. Never mind! Here is what Robin Sharma says about a book you don’t like- “It’s OK not to finish a book if you don’t like it”!
Monday, November 14, 2011
Big Boss (Season 5)
There was a time and a world which didn’t survive on reality TV. I wonder how that went!
I was never into ‘reality shows’. Although a long time fan of chat/interview shows, I started getting struck by the reality power when I started watching ‘MTV roadies’. Almost against my will, I was then watching ‘Emotional Athyachar’. I had almost lost my faith in humanity (and its relationships) when ‘big boss’ (season 5) happened to me.
Honestly I never knew much about this one till season 5. Although I had a vague idea about Shilpa Shetty being discriminated and hence voted to winning in ‘Big brother’, abroad. My initial reactions were naiveté. Who are these so called (self-proclaimed) ‘celebs’? And what are they trying to do? I would but get my answers too soon. Redemption!
First things first, who doesn’t want to watch a Salman on TV? The guy has some track record but hey all is forgiven for he is ever so lovely. And then there is his partner in crime, Mr. Sanjay Dutt. Who wouldn’t blush at the idea of him flirting with Laxmi (the eunuch celeb)?
Usually I hold on to a book and try to get some (early to bed) sleep by 11. At times I don’t even have the patience to read; just the bed. Now I stay awake at least till 11:30. Big boss plays 10:30 to 11:30. Yes! P.M. I was under the impression that the so called ‘celebs’ are the really famous types and the viewers hang on to their Idiot boxes just to watch them. This was again proven wrong. Among the so called ‘celebs’ from season 5, I hardly knew 2-3 of them. Until I googled them! They needn’t be famous, they will be made famous! So it’s just not the celebrity (call it demi-star) status then. There is something about these familiar faces being stashed together in a house. Throw in the household works and the budget for the week and then the celebrity (profanities ridden) face-offs and there’s your reality show. I am addicted to it by now. I crave for it. The cat fights, the tear works, the bitching and back biting, I love them all. Oh! The sweet world of ‘celeb’ politics! Should I dare miss one of its episodes (it plays 7 days a week so excuse the patron who misses on ONE of them), I take refuge in youtube. I was so ill-informed to even think that the TV channel ‘colors’ rose to crescendo just so. Duh! It’s shows like big boss (season) and viewers like me who fuel their TRPs.
God bless the show producers and the great minds behind this modern work of art for their twists too. Who enters as a guest? Swami agnivesh! And what happens to the ladies? ‘Swamiji, OMG! Just can’t believe you are 73’. Ace VJ flirts with Swamiji/civil-society-member? Slurp! There is then Siddharth who has taken to obnoxious flirting with Shonali, the only beauty (queen) in the house. There’s the videshi gal Vida, VJ Pooja Bedi. There is also actor Mehek who is always ‘exploited’. There are the dudes too in the house- Akashdeep (SKY) and goody-goody Amar. And THEN there is Pooja Mishra, the ‘Joker’ in the house. I swear on god, she is THE show. The day she is sent off, I’m sure I’ll cry myself to sleep and never switch on my TV again. Well, except to watch other shows.
Just when I was hardly done conjuring when reality became TV, I was taken in for a ride. I am loving every bit of every moment of it. Who knows? I might as well fall in love with other soaps and serials (let’s not exclude the in-famous Bhartiya saas-bahu ones here). Only time will tell!
I was never into ‘reality shows’. Although a long time fan of chat/interview shows, I started getting struck by the reality power when I started watching ‘MTV roadies’. Almost against my will, I was then watching ‘Emotional Athyachar’. I had almost lost my faith in humanity (and its relationships) when ‘big boss’ (season 5) happened to me.
Honestly I never knew much about this one till season 5. Although I had a vague idea about Shilpa Shetty being discriminated and hence voted to winning in ‘Big brother’, abroad. My initial reactions were naiveté. Who are these so called (self-proclaimed) ‘celebs’? And what are they trying to do? I would but get my answers too soon. Redemption!
First things first, who doesn’t want to watch a Salman on TV? The guy has some track record but hey all is forgiven for he is ever so lovely. And then there is his partner in crime, Mr. Sanjay Dutt. Who wouldn’t blush at the idea of him flirting with Laxmi (the eunuch celeb)?
Usually I hold on to a book and try to get some (early to bed) sleep by 11. At times I don’t even have the patience to read; just the bed. Now I stay awake at least till 11:30. Big boss plays 10:30 to 11:30. Yes! P.M. I was under the impression that the so called ‘celebs’ are the really famous types and the viewers hang on to their Idiot boxes just to watch them. This was again proven wrong. Among the so called ‘celebs’ from season 5, I hardly knew 2-3 of them. Until I googled them! They needn’t be famous, they will be made famous! So it’s just not the celebrity (call it demi-star) status then. There is something about these familiar faces being stashed together in a house. Throw in the household works and the budget for the week and then the celebrity (profanities ridden) face-offs and there’s your reality show. I am addicted to it by now. I crave for it. The cat fights, the tear works, the bitching and back biting, I love them all. Oh! The sweet world of ‘celeb’ politics! Should I dare miss one of its episodes (it plays 7 days a week so excuse the patron who misses on ONE of them), I take refuge in youtube. I was so ill-informed to even think that the TV channel ‘colors’ rose to crescendo just so. Duh! It’s shows like big boss (season) and viewers like me who fuel their TRPs.
God bless the show producers and the great minds behind this modern work of art for their twists too. Who enters as a guest? Swami agnivesh! And what happens to the ladies? ‘Swamiji, OMG! Just can’t believe you are 73’. Ace VJ flirts with Swamiji/civil-society-member? Slurp! There is then Siddharth who has taken to obnoxious flirting with Shonali, the only beauty (queen) in the house. There’s the videshi gal Vida, VJ Pooja Bedi. There is also actor Mehek who is always ‘exploited’. There are the dudes too in the house- Akashdeep (SKY) and goody-goody Amar. And THEN there is Pooja Mishra, the ‘Joker’ in the house. I swear on god, she is THE show. The day she is sent off, I’m sure I’ll cry myself to sleep and never switch on my TV again. Well, except to watch other shows.
Just when I was hardly done conjuring when reality became TV, I was taken in for a ride. I am loving every bit of every moment of it. Who knows? I might as well fall in love with other soaps and serials (let’s not exclude the in-famous Bhartiya saas-bahu ones here). Only time will tell!
Friday, November 11, 2011
The Emperor of all maladies by Siddhartha Mukherjee
Siddhartha Mukherjee has to be the best chronicler of our times. The poignancy and the precision with which he tells this incredible ‘biography’ of cancer is something to die for. The only alter ego of cancer was verily seen to be only death. Either people died of the disease or its cure! Cancer made both doctors and patients lose their patience. This book is a silent tribute to all the people who have contributed their share (and in some cases their lives) in the human race’s fight against cancer. Cytologists, epidemiologists, oncologists, scientists, philanthropists, anthropologists, lobbyists, socialites et al.
Cancer is a vague term given to contain a disease which has manifested itself in innumerable facets. There are hardly any organs or parts of the human body which remain not at risk of cancer. It is but pathological mitosis. A mutated cell (and hence abnormal) giving rise to a volley of other mutated cells which gives rise to more mutated cells ad infinitum. Is it some virus? Is it some external chemical? Or is it some agent in the cell? These might turn out to be mere descriptions given by scientists from a long time. Blinded by incomplete knowledge, they were trying to describe the same elephant! And boy did it take time to understand the true chemical and genetic nature of cancer.
Cancer has come a long way. From a disease which was not at all known to humankind to the most dreaded malaise. Cancer is, in no simpler terms to describe, the emperor of all maladies. Great philanthropists and lobbyists have time and again set a crusade against it, taking the governments and the medicine world by storm. The amount of work and frustration which social workers and lobbyists had to go thru just to gather the right amount of money and support to spread awareness against cancer and start a crusade against it is humongous.
I am reminded of the first attempts where awareness ads against breast cancer were turned down as they could not print both the words ‘breast’ and ‘cancer’. Radical Mastectomy or the surgical removal of breasts (and indeed the lymph nodes till the rib cage as was earlier done) was the sole desperate attempt to eliminate breast cancer initially. Not to mention, after a century of this ‘treatment’, the medical world finally concluded that radical mastectomy was but futile! Exasperation at its best!
Talking about exasperation, we still have carcinogens so easily accessible that it’s not surprising if we still hear of lung cancer- Cigarettes and their nicotine! There was a time when an average American person (irrespective of gender) smoked up to 12 cigarettes a day. Thanks to cigarette barons trying to flood the psyche of the public with ads of smoking and hence making it a part of the milieu. The consumers just couldn’t see how smoking, which was so much a part of their lives, could be a stealthy cause to a life taking condition. What was a pass time or a habit was going to turn around as a vice, right under their noses. It took a mammoth task for social workers and litigators to finally get a hold on the cigarette ads and bring down the consumption of the most fashionable carcinogen in the history of the world.
At the start, research wise, cancer was seen as a manifestation of ‘black bile’. Then came a time when scientists and doctors started to ‘backtrack’ starting from the cancer to its possible cause and as a corollary to the remote probability of a cure. After a century of maneuvering thru dark alleys which offered very few possibilities, light was seen at the end of the tunnel. Central dogma of molecular biology!
The biography of cancer is incomplete without a mention of chemotherapy! The first chemicals which were used in medical experiments were but dyes. It took many a failed experiments and a sea of serendipities for dyes to be recognized and used as drugs in treatment for diseases. With the possibility of a drug (or a concoction of several of them) being used as a sure cure for cancer, several patients were used as guinea pigs for a hosts of drugs. I can’t forget the vivid images of patients who, under the adverse effects of the experimental drugs, walked the corridors of the hospitals as zombies at night. Radiotherapy came to be used with or without chemotherapy too. It is to be remembered here that X-rays themselves are carcinogenic. Madam Curie who discovered Radium, herself, died of leukemia! So even if cancer didn’t kill you, the ‘treatment’ might as well. In all these uncertainty, there came (and very aptly) the need of a place for the terminally ill. A hospice where the condition of the patients are respected and they are provided palliative treatment and care.
The crusade against cancer is incomplete without a mention of its victims! These are also the people who have lent their support in the many formal and informal studies and experiments conducted by scientists and doctors under tremendous pressure. Indeed, here is a story of people and their families and loved ones; their resilience, perseverance and the human will to survive.
Cancer is a vague term given to contain a disease which has manifested itself in innumerable facets. There are hardly any organs or parts of the human body which remain not at risk of cancer. It is but pathological mitosis. A mutated cell (and hence abnormal) giving rise to a volley of other mutated cells which gives rise to more mutated cells ad infinitum. Is it some virus? Is it some external chemical? Or is it some agent in the cell? These might turn out to be mere descriptions given by scientists from a long time. Blinded by incomplete knowledge, they were trying to describe the same elephant! And boy did it take time to understand the true chemical and genetic nature of cancer.
Cancer has come a long way. From a disease which was not at all known to humankind to the most dreaded malaise. Cancer is, in no simpler terms to describe, the emperor of all maladies. Great philanthropists and lobbyists have time and again set a crusade against it, taking the governments and the medicine world by storm. The amount of work and frustration which social workers and lobbyists had to go thru just to gather the right amount of money and support to spread awareness against cancer and start a crusade against it is humongous.
I am reminded of the first attempts where awareness ads against breast cancer were turned down as they could not print both the words ‘breast’ and ‘cancer’. Radical Mastectomy or the surgical removal of breasts (and indeed the lymph nodes till the rib cage as was earlier done) was the sole desperate attempt to eliminate breast cancer initially. Not to mention, after a century of this ‘treatment’, the medical world finally concluded that radical mastectomy was but futile! Exasperation at its best!
Talking about exasperation, we still have carcinogens so easily accessible that it’s not surprising if we still hear of lung cancer- Cigarettes and their nicotine! There was a time when an average American person (irrespective of gender) smoked up to 12 cigarettes a day. Thanks to cigarette barons trying to flood the psyche of the public with ads of smoking and hence making it a part of the milieu. The consumers just couldn’t see how smoking, which was so much a part of their lives, could be a stealthy cause to a life taking condition. What was a pass time or a habit was going to turn around as a vice, right under their noses. It took a mammoth task for social workers and litigators to finally get a hold on the cigarette ads and bring down the consumption of the most fashionable carcinogen in the history of the world.
At the start, research wise, cancer was seen as a manifestation of ‘black bile’. Then came a time when scientists and doctors started to ‘backtrack’ starting from the cancer to its possible cause and as a corollary to the remote probability of a cure. After a century of maneuvering thru dark alleys which offered very few possibilities, light was seen at the end of the tunnel. Central dogma of molecular biology!
The biography of cancer is incomplete without a mention of chemotherapy! The first chemicals which were used in medical experiments were but dyes. It took many a failed experiments and a sea of serendipities for dyes to be recognized and used as drugs in treatment for diseases. With the possibility of a drug (or a concoction of several of them) being used as a sure cure for cancer, several patients were used as guinea pigs for a hosts of drugs. I can’t forget the vivid images of patients who, under the adverse effects of the experimental drugs, walked the corridors of the hospitals as zombies at night. Radiotherapy came to be used with or without chemotherapy too. It is to be remembered here that X-rays themselves are carcinogenic. Madam Curie who discovered Radium, herself, died of leukemia! So even if cancer didn’t kill you, the ‘treatment’ might as well. In all these uncertainty, there came (and very aptly) the need of a place for the terminally ill. A hospice where the condition of the patients are respected and they are provided palliative treatment and care.
The crusade against cancer is incomplete without a mention of its victims! These are also the people who have lent their support in the many formal and informal studies and experiments conducted by scientists and doctors under tremendous pressure. Indeed, here is a story of people and their families and loved ones; their resilience, perseverance and the human will to survive.
Thursday, October 27, 2011
Blissfully ignorant!
Who is the smartest person according to you? Who is the dumbest? At times I see a thin line separating them; at times the line just disappears!
Here are some basic questions we all should ask ourselves. This is not some general knowledge test. This is your identity. If you don’t know, it’s fine. It’s no blasphemy; there are no penalties. If you know, it’s no big deal, again, because you need to know it.
You might be the smartest people you could think of. You know your books, you handle your finance well. You are good at what you do. You give excellent presentations or come up with bug free programs. You are even street smart! You know cab fares and vegetable prices. Then answer me these!
What’s the name of our country? How many states and UT’s does it comprise of? Do you happen to know their capitals? Who is the president of the Republic of India? Who is the Prime Minister then? What is the capital of India? This stuff is stupid. Any kid in any school will tell you these, you might think. Or is it so?
When was the last time you read something other than page 3 news? When did you read anything (in the name of a book) other than Chetan Bhagat or Shidney Sheldon?
I volunteer to teach for a school on Saturdays. The 6th std. kids of my Kanada medium, Government primary school were surprised when an impromptu quiz contest was conducted. Team girls versus team boys. I tried my level best to come up with the most basic and easiest of the ‘general knowledge’ questions. What’s the capital of Maharashtra? Islamabad was the reply. What’s the full form of USA? Some mumbo jumbo Africa (‘A’ in USA is apparently Africa). What’s the capital of China? Canada. I was grossly disappointed. They did get the national bird, the national flower and the national animal of India correctly though. I was ecstatic when someone came up with the answer “It was believed to be 9, but there are only 8 planets now”.
After the fiasco, I had a very obvious question for them. “How many of you read newspapers at home?” Out of a 40 strong, one hand went up. The boy sounded honest when he told me (with much pride) that he, in fact, reads the newspaper once in a while. I was happy for him.
I can’t compare the schooling that I had with theirs; not that mine was an international school. Having said that I am but to wonder how and why this ‘situation’ here is so pathetic. As a kid I was aware of these things. History and geography were interesting and I learnt as I went thru those books. Has it changed now? Has the spirit of learning died out amongst the young and the old alike? Or is it only these kids in my school who are so ill equipped? Is it the medium which is restricting them? That seemed a futile thought.
What’s a school if it’s only marks and grading? Where’s the overall development? How will these kids grow up as well aware people? Why are the teachers and parents not encouraging them to ‘learn’ what’s in their books and even beyond?
I was shocked, dumbfounded and appalled when a colleague of mine didn’t know the capital of India! You heard it right. He doesn’t know (a hell lot of) many other things too. Isn’t he supposed to be the urbane, the uber cool, the trans smart one? The kids in my school have grown up to be blissfully ignorant and ‘educated’ citizens like him!
In an age where ‘news’ is just celebs hooking up and breaking up, we have lost it. Completely! Socializing is just Facebook. At the best visiting a mall and ‘hanging out’. Many of my friends I know read the newspaper but they tend to take only those news which are catchy. The rest of the ‘political jargon’ is marked out mercilessly.
Our shallow knowledge on the basic things we ought to know can still be nourished. It takes just a click away for a person sitting in a well furnished apartment to really ‘learn’ something. A school student needs to be nurtured not only thru books but are to be encouraged to read. They have so many things at their disposal. Internet is a blessing for those who have access to it. A school with a library is again a blessing. Teachers and parents need to encourage their wards to read and learn not only things which are taught in school but also otherwise. A good newspaper is again a blessing. Kids are to be encouraged to read what’s not only on the front page or the sports page but everything else. In a span of time, they should be able to decide for themselves what needs to be read and when. A well informed student, a professional, a citizen and a person can make better informed decisions.
Here are some basic questions we all should ask ourselves. This is not some general knowledge test. This is your identity. If you don’t know, it’s fine. It’s no blasphemy; there are no penalties. If you know, it’s no big deal, again, because you need to know it.
You might be the smartest people you could think of. You know your books, you handle your finance well. You are good at what you do. You give excellent presentations or come up with bug free programs. You are even street smart! You know cab fares and vegetable prices. Then answer me these!
What’s the name of our country? How many states and UT’s does it comprise of? Do you happen to know their capitals? Who is the president of the Republic of India? Who is the Prime Minister then? What is the capital of India? This stuff is stupid. Any kid in any school will tell you these, you might think. Or is it so?
When was the last time you read something other than page 3 news? When did you read anything (in the name of a book) other than Chetan Bhagat or Shidney Sheldon?
I volunteer to teach for a school on Saturdays. The 6th std. kids of my Kanada medium, Government primary school were surprised when an impromptu quiz contest was conducted. Team girls versus team boys. I tried my level best to come up with the most basic and easiest of the ‘general knowledge’ questions. What’s the capital of Maharashtra? Islamabad was the reply. What’s the full form of USA? Some mumbo jumbo Africa (‘A’ in USA is apparently Africa). What’s the capital of China? Canada. I was grossly disappointed. They did get the national bird, the national flower and the national animal of India correctly though. I was ecstatic when someone came up with the answer “It was believed to be 9, but there are only 8 planets now”.
After the fiasco, I had a very obvious question for them. “How many of you read newspapers at home?” Out of a 40 strong, one hand went up. The boy sounded honest when he told me (with much pride) that he, in fact, reads the newspaper once in a while. I was happy for him.
I can’t compare the schooling that I had with theirs; not that mine was an international school. Having said that I am but to wonder how and why this ‘situation’ here is so pathetic. As a kid I was aware of these things. History and geography were interesting and I learnt as I went thru those books. Has it changed now? Has the spirit of learning died out amongst the young and the old alike? Or is it only these kids in my school who are so ill equipped? Is it the medium which is restricting them? That seemed a futile thought.
What’s a school if it’s only marks and grading? Where’s the overall development? How will these kids grow up as well aware people? Why are the teachers and parents not encouraging them to ‘learn’ what’s in their books and even beyond?
I was shocked, dumbfounded and appalled when a colleague of mine didn’t know the capital of India! You heard it right. He doesn’t know (a hell lot of) many other things too. Isn’t he supposed to be the urbane, the uber cool, the trans smart one? The kids in my school have grown up to be blissfully ignorant and ‘educated’ citizens like him!
In an age where ‘news’ is just celebs hooking up and breaking up, we have lost it. Completely! Socializing is just Facebook. At the best visiting a mall and ‘hanging out’. Many of my friends I know read the newspaper but they tend to take only those news which are catchy. The rest of the ‘political jargon’ is marked out mercilessly.
Our shallow knowledge on the basic things we ought to know can still be nourished. It takes just a click away for a person sitting in a well furnished apartment to really ‘learn’ something. A school student needs to be nurtured not only thru books but are to be encouraged to read. They have so many things at their disposal. Internet is a blessing for those who have access to it. A school with a library is again a blessing. Teachers and parents need to encourage their wards to read and learn not only things which are taught in school but also otherwise. A good newspaper is again a blessing. Kids are to be encouraged to read what’s not only on the front page or the sports page but everything else. In a span of time, they should be able to decide for themselves what needs to be read and when. A well informed student, a professional, a citizen and a person can make better informed decisions.
Sunday, September 11, 2011
Volvo buses and the dreaded C word!
I was listening to the radio on a Saturday morning when a listener asked the BMTC representative why they play music in the Volvo buses. Apparently it disturbs him a lot. Sure! That sounds like a real problem we got with BMTC and its Volvo buses. If you go by my experience, the biggest problem has to do with the C word. Have you got Change? The C word we are looking for here is ‘Change’.
It’s an early Monday morning. I am left with no cash at all after all the weekend (and its crazy expenditure). I am left me with a mere 500 and nothing else. No change!
My fare till office in a volvo cost me a significant 25 rupees. I say significant because let’s face it, it’s costly. Two times of 25 are 50; that’s what I spend in one single day on my bus ride to and fro. They say it’s cooler inside and it would reach you faster. Seriously? I have come across Volvo buses where there was so much commotion that I couldn’t even breathe. Talk about coolness! And there was a time when a lady vomited and we all commuters inside the enclosed area caught a whiff of that abominable concoction. What use is the enclosed space now eh? As for reaching faster I don’t think so. Here the driver sees a poor lady waiting for the bus and he stops. Even if that would mean stopping at a busy, no-bus-stop, no parking area. And here is a sweaty man trying his best to get to a speeding bus and the driver ignores him. Run bhola run but sorry dude! You’re not from the fairer sex.
I boarded a Volvo with much anticipation. In fact I was almost anxious. My wallet and the 500 note inside were conspiring against me. What becomes of you now? I told my destination and handed over the 500 note to the conductor. His eyes were red (I think he made a tight fist too) if I was not wrong. Most probably he had a rough night I said to myself. “Give me change. 25”, he tells me in the vernacular language. “No change”, I tell him; meek and frightened by now. He gives me one of those looks and then starts ‘telling’ me all sorts of things. I got told! So early in the morning. If I got it right I heard something to this effect “Don’t know kannada, don’t know nothing. Just here to work. Giving me a 500 so early in the morning. What do these people think of themselves. I’ll give him a 1000 note for a silly ticket and let him give me the change.” I was less offended by what he said (which I only partially understood) and more by the fact that by now everyone on board the bus was staring at me. I was made to be the imbecile who arrogantly wants to show off his cash! I was frozen. I didn’t even have the courage to tell him to just stop getting so personal with me in a language which I barely understand. Stop being such a bully. That I am just a customer and he is providing me a service and not doing me any favours by ‘granting’ me a ticket and the subsequent change. And that he got no rights to insult me and manhandle me such. Alas! I was red in anger and shame. I thought of jumping off the bus at the next stop. I couldn’t. The air-tight doors didn’t open at the next stop. Damn you Volvo!
Many a times I get told on the bus just because I didn’t have a 5 coin/note with me. Remember how I need to tender a 20 and a 5? Many a times I see innocent men and even women being looked down upon just because they did not ‘tender exact change’! This might sound rather too much of an outburst but yes! This seems to be the same story everywhere. Some fine day they will tell you ‘the fare has increased by another 5’. And another 5 and another 5. And so also increases the imperial power of these Volvo conductors. Aren’t they like supposed to be nicer to the commuters because we pay way more than a commuter in a non-AC bus?
Volvo buses has been forced upon us. Working in IT doesn’t qualify you as a lavish spender. I don’t really ‘have to’ spend so much on a stupid, crowded and at times stinking bus ride. It doesn’t make any sense. I won’t mind travelling in some ‘normal’ [sic] bus as well. In fact, I would love some fresh air when the bus moves and the windows are open. More so when somebody goes sick! The non-Volvo buses which commute between my place and my office are so less that I got no patience and time to wait, for one. Two, they are always super crowded since the non-IT commuters have to fit in to these buses which ply in lesser numbers and frequency.
Well, not all is bad here. Once I heard a poor man (or so I thought at first) being scolded for not having change on a Volvo when he shouts back at the conductor. He says in Hindi, ‘Bro, if you are so frustrated with your job just leave it and sit at home’. Everyone in the bus laughed, including me. It was cruel but who cares! Redemption is always sweet however small and whenever it comes! He got told! Volvo conductor got told! Hell yes, this is a two-way street. But life continues. And here we are travelling in an overpriced, over-crowded and stinking Volvo. And oh! There’s the crappy music too. For ‘entertainment’, like there’s already less!
It’s an early Monday morning. I am left with no cash at all after all the weekend (and its crazy expenditure). I am left me with a mere 500 and nothing else. No change!
My fare till office in a volvo cost me a significant 25 rupees. I say significant because let’s face it, it’s costly. Two times of 25 are 50; that’s what I spend in one single day on my bus ride to and fro. They say it’s cooler inside and it would reach you faster. Seriously? I have come across Volvo buses where there was so much commotion that I couldn’t even breathe. Talk about coolness! And there was a time when a lady vomited and we all commuters inside the enclosed area caught a whiff of that abominable concoction. What use is the enclosed space now eh? As for reaching faster I don’t think so. Here the driver sees a poor lady waiting for the bus and he stops. Even if that would mean stopping at a busy, no-bus-stop, no parking area. And here is a sweaty man trying his best to get to a speeding bus and the driver ignores him. Run bhola run but sorry dude! You’re not from the fairer sex.
I boarded a Volvo with much anticipation. In fact I was almost anxious. My wallet and the 500 note inside were conspiring against me. What becomes of you now? I told my destination and handed over the 500 note to the conductor. His eyes were red (I think he made a tight fist too) if I was not wrong. Most probably he had a rough night I said to myself. “Give me change. 25”, he tells me in the vernacular language. “No change”, I tell him; meek and frightened by now. He gives me one of those looks and then starts ‘telling’ me all sorts of things. I got told! So early in the morning. If I got it right I heard something to this effect “Don’t know kannada, don’t know nothing. Just here to work. Giving me a 500 so early in the morning. What do these people think of themselves. I’ll give him a 1000 note for a silly ticket and let him give me the change.” I was less offended by what he said (which I only partially understood) and more by the fact that by now everyone on board the bus was staring at me. I was made to be the imbecile who arrogantly wants to show off his cash! I was frozen. I didn’t even have the courage to tell him to just stop getting so personal with me in a language which I barely understand. Stop being such a bully. That I am just a customer and he is providing me a service and not doing me any favours by ‘granting’ me a ticket and the subsequent change. And that he got no rights to insult me and manhandle me such. Alas! I was red in anger and shame. I thought of jumping off the bus at the next stop. I couldn’t. The air-tight doors didn’t open at the next stop. Damn you Volvo!
Many a times I get told on the bus just because I didn’t have a 5 coin/note with me. Remember how I need to tender a 20 and a 5? Many a times I see innocent men and even women being looked down upon just because they did not ‘tender exact change’! This might sound rather too much of an outburst but yes! This seems to be the same story everywhere. Some fine day they will tell you ‘the fare has increased by another 5’. And another 5 and another 5. And so also increases the imperial power of these Volvo conductors. Aren’t they like supposed to be nicer to the commuters because we pay way more than a commuter in a non-AC bus?
Volvo buses has been forced upon us. Working in IT doesn’t qualify you as a lavish spender. I don’t really ‘have to’ spend so much on a stupid, crowded and at times stinking bus ride. It doesn’t make any sense. I won’t mind travelling in some ‘normal’ [sic] bus as well. In fact, I would love some fresh air when the bus moves and the windows are open. More so when somebody goes sick! The non-Volvo buses which commute between my place and my office are so less that I got no patience and time to wait, for one. Two, they are always super crowded since the non-IT commuters have to fit in to these buses which ply in lesser numbers and frequency.
Well, not all is bad here. Once I heard a poor man (or so I thought at first) being scolded for not having change on a Volvo when he shouts back at the conductor. He says in Hindi, ‘Bro, if you are so frustrated with your job just leave it and sit at home’. Everyone in the bus laughed, including me. It was cruel but who cares! Redemption is always sweet however small and whenever it comes! He got told! Volvo conductor got told! Hell yes, this is a two-way street. But life continues. And here we are travelling in an overpriced, over-crowded and stinking Volvo. And oh! There’s the crappy music too. For ‘entertainment’, like there’s already less!
Thursday, June 2, 2011
The joy of sharing
Are you a working professional? Would you work round the clock the whole week and then take a nice wholesome weekend to relax? What’s your weekend plan? Movies, Clubbing, family time … what? Here’s a different option for you.
Many people, take me for an example, don’t believe in PAYING to help someone. More than the fact that I would never know where my hard earned cash went I wish to be able to do something with my own hands and mind. I want to see the results right in front of me. Charity is an over glorified term; it’s just not that simple. I prefer the term ‘sharing’.
Trying to make it work in a big city got to my nerves. I don’t have a family to spend time with nor my friends are available to ‘hang out’ with me all the time. This was the driving force behind my asking a basic question- ‘What makes my existence in Bangalore worth?’ Eating, sleeping and watching TV shouldn’t define me; it just can’t. I tried a lot of things which I have been regularly following -yoga, reading, writing. Nothing really helped. The thought of an approaching weekend made me sick. What am I suppose to divert my energy to? The calling came to me from a small newspaper article. There was this small group of people lead by Dharin and Lingaraj who were teaching the kids at a nearby Government school. They teach English and had plans to teach them computers too. I immediately called at the number given in the article and got in touch with them. I wrote the first ‘application’ for a job I could so well take care of. I knew I won’t be paid but I couldn’t wait to go to the school. I went on to disclose in the mail to Dharin all of my doubts. What if I can’t explain anything to them? They speak only Kanada and I won’t know how to describe everything so well. What if they hate me? Dharin had only one thing to tell me, ‘You teach with the heart’!
The first day at the school was bittersweet! I met Dharin a lean, serious looking guy. He told me Lingaraj was absent that day and asked me if I would cover up for him. I suddenly got tensed. I was finally shown to the classroom and the kids- a forty strong room- standard 6th. They were amazed to see me. Dharin hurried away to take care of other classes leaving me stranded in front of a smiling and giggling lot. I was dumbfounded. I tried saying a ‘hello’ and started off by telling them my name. I wrote few lines on the board. Soon the class settled down. I was sent to the best school in my city. We were dressed up in tidy uniforms and had fancy classrooms and our teachers use to communicate ONLY in English. Here was the actual reality check. Most of the students didn’t have footwear. They didn’t know how to speak in the most over rated language in the world-English. Their ‘uniforms’ were untidy. I was appalled. I had never ever seen a ‘classroom’ like this before.
I regularly visit movie theaters and malls. It’s exciting. You get to dress up, wear the best of clothes, feel good and have fun. Not to mention the spending. Going to MY school on a Saturday morning is a different high. The kids don’t care if you are wearing the best suit or a plain old T’s. They would still shake hands with you at the end of the class. They will jump with joy when you give them a pen or a book or a toffee. The sheer innocence you see in those bright eyes; all they would ask you is for a good inspiration. The willingness to learn, the curiosity they have and their will to break the conventional barriers is evident. The feeling that you get when you realize that they have learnt something new that day is priceless.
Volunteering to teach at the school has been one of the most humbling and rewarding experiences I had in my entire life. Now that I know the kids love me I can’t wait to go and see them every Saturday. I remember times when I had to cancel on my ‘weekend plans’ just for them!
Many people, take me for an example, don’t believe in PAYING to help someone. More than the fact that I would never know where my hard earned cash went I wish to be able to do something with my own hands and mind. I want to see the results right in front of me. Charity is an over glorified term; it’s just not that simple. I prefer the term ‘sharing’.
Trying to make it work in a big city got to my nerves. I don’t have a family to spend time with nor my friends are available to ‘hang out’ with me all the time. This was the driving force behind my asking a basic question- ‘What makes my existence in Bangalore worth?’ Eating, sleeping and watching TV shouldn’t define me; it just can’t. I tried a lot of things which I have been regularly following -yoga, reading, writing. Nothing really helped. The thought of an approaching weekend made me sick. What am I suppose to divert my energy to? The calling came to me from a small newspaper article. There was this small group of people lead by Dharin and Lingaraj who were teaching the kids at a nearby Government school. They teach English and had plans to teach them computers too. I immediately called at the number given in the article and got in touch with them. I wrote the first ‘application’ for a job I could so well take care of. I knew I won’t be paid but I couldn’t wait to go to the school. I went on to disclose in the mail to Dharin all of my doubts. What if I can’t explain anything to them? They speak only Kanada and I won’t know how to describe everything so well. What if they hate me? Dharin had only one thing to tell me, ‘You teach with the heart’!
The first day at the school was bittersweet! I met Dharin a lean, serious looking guy. He told me Lingaraj was absent that day and asked me if I would cover up for him. I suddenly got tensed. I was finally shown to the classroom and the kids- a forty strong room- standard 6th. They were amazed to see me. Dharin hurried away to take care of other classes leaving me stranded in front of a smiling and giggling lot. I was dumbfounded. I tried saying a ‘hello’ and started off by telling them my name. I wrote few lines on the board. Soon the class settled down. I was sent to the best school in my city. We were dressed up in tidy uniforms and had fancy classrooms and our teachers use to communicate ONLY in English. Here was the actual reality check. Most of the students didn’t have footwear. They didn’t know how to speak in the most over rated language in the world-English. Their ‘uniforms’ were untidy. I was appalled. I had never ever seen a ‘classroom’ like this before.
I regularly visit movie theaters and malls. It’s exciting. You get to dress up, wear the best of clothes, feel good and have fun. Not to mention the spending. Going to MY school on a Saturday morning is a different high. The kids don’t care if you are wearing the best suit or a plain old T’s. They would still shake hands with you at the end of the class. They will jump with joy when you give them a pen or a book or a toffee. The sheer innocence you see in those bright eyes; all they would ask you is for a good inspiration. The willingness to learn, the curiosity they have and their will to break the conventional barriers is evident. The feeling that you get when you realize that they have learnt something new that day is priceless.
Volunteering to teach at the school has been one of the most humbling and rewarding experiences I had in my entire life. Now that I know the kids love me I can’t wait to go and see them every Saturday. I remember times when I had to cancel on my ‘weekend plans’ just for them!
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
The Jigsaw Puzzle
It was almost 10 at night. I was returning from office; more late than usual as I had to meet a few friends. The road which leads to my lane is usually dark once the sun sets. That night, it was particularly dark. It was only me and the radio on my earphones. As I approached my lane I saw something in the dark, by the roadside, over the drain. I understood that it was something pulled up from the drain; soggy and wet, all covered up in black sludge. A bag or something as I saw it from a distance. As I went closer, I started getting a horrid stench. I had never come across such an ominous odour ever before. I got goose bumps, a chill down my spine. As I hurried towards my lane, I saw 4-5 people, as if discussing something serious. They glanced at me, saw that I am someone returning home from work and continued with their discussion. Among them were two policemen. Other than the bunch of people, there was no one around that night in the locality. All doors and windows were shut. Children and adults alike would be usually seen around their balconies at this time of the night. That night none! Our lane could be mistaken for a curfew imposed town. I didn’t observe much but got into my house as if in a trance. Rakesh was already inside the house. ‘You are late’, he said approaching me. I switched off the radio. I was still shaken from whatever I saw outside. ‘Outside… police…’ I mumbled. ‘I got news’ he said!
That night I was unable to get sleep at a stretch. I was exhausted but every time I heard some noise outside I would wake up. Lying in bed, I told myself. ‘You come from a place where bomb blasts and firings and people dying are a way of life’. This thought didn’t help though. ‘This is cold blooded murder’ said I to myself.
The whole thing got into my head all the more because of an incident which took place approximately two weeks earlier.
It was 7:30 on a bright, sunny Sunday morning. I was just back from jogging. It was too early to sit down in front of the TV. ‘Why not use the early morning to get some stuffs for the kitchen’ thought I. The freshest vegetable store is a 10 minutes’ walk from my house. I would have to take the ‘shortcut’ underneath the overbridge and crossing the railway track to reach there. I had the radio blasting Ryan Seacrest’s Top 40. I looked out for any trains approaching and then started to cross the railway track. Suddenly, I realized my left foot had stepped on something slippery. I was not ready for what I saw. Lying beneath my foot was a pool of blood; thick and as red as freshly oozed from a dead orifice. I was in for another quick shock when I heard a voice behind me. I flung the earphones in alarm; off went the radio. I didn’t see the Hindi speaking man so much as I heard him say ‘they just cut it!’ ‘What? Who?’ was all I could come up with. ‘Found here was the head of a man’. I stood there frozen for an instant and quickly passed by. I remember avoiding the ‘shortcut’ while returning with the fresh vegetables that eventful Sunday.
I was still unable to sleep, deeply disturbed. Rakesh had mentioned ‘Police suspects the fermented body found in the suitcase was just the lower limbs’!
That night I was unable to get sleep at a stretch. I was exhausted but every time I heard some noise outside I would wake up. Lying in bed, I told myself. ‘You come from a place where bomb blasts and firings and people dying are a way of life’. This thought didn’t help though. ‘This is cold blooded murder’ said I to myself.
The whole thing got into my head all the more because of an incident which took place approximately two weeks earlier.
It was 7:30 on a bright, sunny Sunday morning. I was just back from jogging. It was too early to sit down in front of the TV. ‘Why not use the early morning to get some stuffs for the kitchen’ thought I. The freshest vegetable store is a 10 minutes’ walk from my house. I would have to take the ‘shortcut’ underneath the overbridge and crossing the railway track to reach there. I had the radio blasting Ryan Seacrest’s Top 40. I looked out for any trains approaching and then started to cross the railway track. Suddenly, I realized my left foot had stepped on something slippery. I was not ready for what I saw. Lying beneath my foot was a pool of blood; thick and as red as freshly oozed from a dead orifice. I was in for another quick shock when I heard a voice behind me. I flung the earphones in alarm; off went the radio. I didn’t see the Hindi speaking man so much as I heard him say ‘they just cut it!’ ‘What? Who?’ was all I could come up with. ‘Found here was the head of a man’. I stood there frozen for an instant and quickly passed by. I remember avoiding the ‘shortcut’ while returning with the fresh vegetables that eventful Sunday.
I was still unable to sleep, deeply disturbed. Rakesh had mentioned ‘Police suspects the fermented body found in the suitcase was just the lower limbs’!
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