Why this Kolavari di?

 

Yesterday morning, the first thing I noticed on the front page of the newspaper was the Karnataka assembly ministerial blooper. A minister was caught on camera watching porn when the session was in progress. And he is a member of the BJP; trust me it makes a lot of difference. I couldn't prevent a laugh from escaping my mouth. My first reaction was, "Poor thing!" And sure enough the criticism came, followed by demands for resignation. The minister in question drowned with him two other ministers who happened to peep into his cell phone and take part in his mirth.

The moral policing has begun. A senior RSS leader, said: “It is disgusting and shameless.” And the result: the three ministers have tendered resignation. What's disgusting and shameless: catering to one's sexual needs? No, it's not, but being a minister and not doing his duties, definitely is. If the latter is the offence they called shameful, then they should  include taking a nap or reading a novel (a former speaker of the Lok sabha once admitted in an interview reading photocopied chapters of a novel in the house) during the session as punishable offences too. Why should these acts be excused? Practically, the result is the same- duty not being done and time wasted in the house run on public money. Watching porn in the assembly is improper, so is screaming, throwing slippers, hurling chairs and abuses or punching one another. 

Another important thing here is to do away with the hypocrisy. It was in Karnataka where bar girls were proposed to follow a "decent" dress-code. One of the three ministers caught enjoying porn was earlier quoted as saying that 'women ought to know how much skin they should cover when they leave for work' - referring to women who work in the night shift in IT companies and call centres. Its time for BJP and its side-kick RSS to learn a lesson and stop acting as the self-appointed moral guardians of Indian culture. Dear BJP leaders, ruffling religious sentiments and self-righteous moral policing are not going to help you win every election.

You may be wondering why I have not mentioned the names of the ministers. The reason is simply that I didn't want the degenerate ministers to steal away attention from the real problem- the prevalent attitude. It might not even be the general attitude of the public but it has been made out to be so by these hypocritical ministers and self-ordained leaders. For the record, not everyone subscribes to their opinion of what consists our culture. Whatever they keep ranting about to gain favour from their similarly degenerate audience, a people's culture is a living and evolving phenomenon and it will remain so. They may as well cure their selectively myopic view towards which kind of conduct is proper in the House of the government and focus on dispensing their duties, to perform which, the people had elected them.

The fear of an impending loss is overwhelming. Wouldn’t one rather prefer to be surprised unpleasantly, than look forward to something with dread? It’s like dying every moment instead of dying just once. Isn’t everyone entitled to ignore an unwanted truth just as one is expected to tolerate it? But even deciding to ignore it is another pain of enormous proportion in itself. So, I wonder if one should rather always be caught off-guard with grave sorrow than know it is coming. Because then, as I see it, one wouldn’t be plagued by the oncoming stab of pain and one would not have any other way but through. Thus, one wouldn’t also be tormented by the guilt of an unwanted choice of ignoring it being made.

And this pain that I talk about is compounded when it involves people who are dear to one. That’s when one would say something like, “I wish I were the one to die instead of him.” Such show of love! With all due respect to anyone who ever felt thus, have you tried scratching the surface of that emotion? I did. And what did I find? Ah! Just as I suspected, it’s my own fear-the fear of having to deal with the loss and the pain. This is not to belittle human emotions of compassion and empathy. Of course, they are, but very real feelings. But the trigger almost always, seems to be something more selfish than one might ever comfortably be willing to except.

Another room locked up

Somewhere in the corner.

Let not the poignant fragrance fade

Or mix up with new unknowns.

The room you left is vacant, but for the memories so dear.

Your laughter lingers in the space that's still yours,

Your words echo in the hollowness,

Your portrait still adorns its wall.

The hearth still glows with warmth,

Broth still bubbles to soothe the aching soul.

A new room for a new person

Or an old one to welcome an ol' friend.

an elegy written in a science lab

I don't have anything in particular to write about. Say what about writing something on not having anything to write?

Today's been one of the tougher days...bored with the task at hand, feeling lethargic, having a headache, feeling queasy at the sight of my computer, with a presentation to give next week. What a day!

So this happens to be one of those days when you feel your nose is getting crushed under the weight of your spectacles( ask any "framed" person to know what exactly I'm talking about).

I haven't had anything to write about since quite some time now. When your mind is buzzing with incoherent thoughts, which will make little sense even when expressed to people whose feedback matters to you, you really don't feel like writing. The beauty of random thoughts has been brushed aside by the exactness of science.

These are times when you cuss yourself for having started a blog.
Times when you want to write something which says something important,
when you feel you need to write a "good one" after not having written in a long time... but nothing really sensible comes out of your mind.

Now I wonder whether I should post this one or not.

The problem is I'm not feeling good

But the bigger problem is I can't stay sad for a long time. :-P

So guys, this is to feeling-bad-but-not-knowing-how-to-feel-bad! Cheers! ...brb ;-)

HAPPY NEW YEAR! :)

May this year throw more lemons at you and you be busy opening vodkas! May you party each day of the year. Celebrate bindass-ly!!!
Just kidding…but I mean the last part from the depth of my heart.
Guys, last year has been truly rocking. Don’t worry; I’m not going to give you another uninteresting what-interesting-things-happened-last-year report. Let me just be safe talking about myself and my world.

Personally, 2009 had been a significant year. Finally, student life is over and now I’m banging my head in a research lab in my quest to become a scientist (don’t laugh, man! Ok, fine…I might as well end up teaching in some college). But mind you, unlike many others, I’m not missing living a student’s life one bit. The best part of working is NO MORE EXAMS (sigh! Am I only dreaming?). And the BEST-est part is I’m in a lab where I’m my own boss working on my own part of the project, finally I’ve got the chance to work the way I want to. Touch wood!

I just hope to keep riding the high tides and bending a few rules. ;-P and hope the same for you all guys…have good times ahead.

I’m not good...

It was yesterday. I was on my way back to my pad on a bus on Delhi’s busy ring road. Preoccupied with thoughts the origin of which I will never know, I was sitting by the window on one of the “ladies”-seat. i had almost started enjoying the humidity( you see, you don’t have a choice!), when we reached Sarai Kale Khan bus stand. As the bus slowed down to a halt, I was shaken out of my inner cosmos by a commotion near the door: the bus conductor was helping a man get down the bus, assisted by a passenger sitting near the door. At first I thought he must be helping some differently-abled person. But then I realized it was something else. The guy they were helping was so weak, he could not even stand on his own, leave alone walk. I was wondering how he got onto the bus. The conductor was helping him get down, with face all smiles, pride glowing in his eyes with an unsaid “oh! See people I’m helping him, am so good, so chivalrous!” I heard him say “ tuney hi isse bithaya tha”, to which the other man replied, “jaldi utaro, lene ke dene pad jayenge”.

They got him down and seated him on the pavement. It was only then that I saw him clearly, all weak and with only one slipper to walk on. He must have been about 60-65. Very thin and sinewy, the cloth of his pants failed to flatter his thin legs and I wondered if they had any flesh covering the bones. I could not help pitying him.

But all this while, I was a mute spectator. I wanted to ask the conductor if this was exactly the very stop where he wanted to get down. Ideally (that is, if I had listened to the little voice inside), I should have got down, asked him if he needed any help, asked where he was going, or may be, bought him something to eat or drink or better still, taken him to a hospital, informed his folks, DID SOMETHING, DID ANYTHING . I should have…would have…could have….but didn’t. I played the perfect mute spectator whom I so detest. I gave in to the lower self. Shall I add the best line here? “I am only human”- the ridiculously effective excuse. I really can’t help worrying and thinking what must have become of him, whether he reached home safely or not. I know it’s no use showing (shall I dare say) pretentious care.

It still hurts; no, it feels funny the way my conscience pricks me. All this while, I had been trying to pacify it. But it still rebukes me, my conscience. It’s mortifying to my self-importance, the self-righteous me to realize I am only part of the dirty pack, the filth which fills the world. No amount of reading good books, no religious hymns, no lengths of spiritual discourses is going to redeem me. It really needs relentless courage to do good, to be good. And I have none. I seek no redemption. With my tail between my legs, I admit, I AM NOT GOOD.

on a break, giving my egg-jam!

Friends, I've been off for a while and will be for a little longer...
but i found a really good poem and its hilarious parody for you all.....enjoy!

[By the way, the last date for form submission for IARI(PhD) is 11th April and that for ICMR is 29th of the same month....happy "Egg-jamming"!! :-P ]

"A PSALM OF LIFE"
WHAT THE HEART OF THE YOUNG MAN SAID TO THE PSALMIST

Tell me not, in mournful numbers,
Life is but an empty dream ! —
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.

Life is real ! Life is earnest!
And the grave is not its goal ;
Dust thou art, to dust returnest,
Was not spoken of the soul.

Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
Is our destined end or way ;
But to act, that each to-morrow
Find us farther than to-day.

Art is long, and Time is fleeting,
And our hearts, though stout and brave,
Still, like muffled drums, are beating
Funeral marches to the grave.

In the world's broad field of battle,
In the bivouac of Life,
Be not like dumb,
driven cattle !
Be a hero in the strife !

Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant !
Let the dead Past bury its dead !
Act,— act in the living Present !
Heart within, and God o'erhead !

Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind
Footprits on the sands of time ;

Footprints, that perhaps another,
Sailing o'er life's solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
Seeing, shall take heart again.

Let us, then, be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate ;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labor and to wait.

~Henry W. Longfellow


...and the parody....

Life is real, life is earnest,
And the shell is not its pen –
“Egg thou art, and egg remainest”
Was not spoken of the hen.

Art is long and Time is fleeting,
Be our bills then sharpened well,
And not like muffled drums be beating
On the inside of the shell.

In the world’s broad field of battle,
In the great barnyard of life,
Be not like those lazy cattle!
Be a rooster in the strife!

Lives of roosters all remind us,
We can make our lives sublime,
And when roasted, leave behind us,
Hen tracks on the sands of time.

Hen tracks that perhaps another
Chicken drooping in the rain,
Some forlorn and henpecked brother,
When he sees, shall crow again.

~ Oliver Wendell Holmes