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Saturday, 29 December 2012

Thursday, 27 December 2012

Seven-year old politicians

Call me mean and say that I am taking undue advantage of this space called my Blog because the content is unregualted and free, but I strongly feel:
Abhijit Mukherjee was surely slapped by his father or a senior in the Congress party.
It is quite like a little seven year old's birthday party, where the birthday boy calls his visiting aunt 'ugly' because she didn't bring him a decent gift, and his mother slapping him thereafter!

We've entrusted the well-being of our country in the hands of people who will wear a birthday cap and rob the goodies from the "khoi-bag", run home and wait for the next elections,er, birthday!

If any individual finds faults with my words here, please let me know because I can always apologize and withdraw my remarks. Its easy!

Monday, 24 December 2012

The many meanings of Sex

I am a 22- year old girl, and like most other girls my age I am struggling on several counts as I stand on this threshold between adolescence and adulthood.
The idea of sex (and I refuse to replace the word with s**) was barely becoming clear in my head, and almost out of the blue I've been thrown into the world of harsh realities from the world of Mills & Boons. So sensitive we were, that we even talked about the story book 'scenes' in hushed tones and changed the topic when our parents walked into the room. Adult jokes, might be a 'laugh-out-loud' for the boys, but our cheeks just changed colors and displayed the various shades of red: ranging from pink to crimson!

Fast track to the heated discussion over the Delhi gang-rape case. What was considered a highly emotional, lovable and affectionate part of human life for so long, has morphed itself into a gruesome act. What goes over the men that they go to such and such extents. Ever since the Delhi case has surfaced, reading the newspaper has proved to be difficult and instead of looking for it first things in the morning, people in my house are avoiding it first thing in the morning. Just yesterday, there was news of a man at a Child Day Care Center raping a 3-year old! Just when were the pinky-pinky love stories robbed of their innocence? If babies, a product of the sexual intercourse are considered the gift of God, what makes the man rape a baby of three! Maybe evil and devil are adjectives insufficient for their pitiable state of character.

A heated discussion in my classroom in college lead the teacher to seek solutions from us, and I said to myself: IT IS TIME TO REALLY GROW UP, NOW!

(Today, most of all days, I am grateful for this gift called Blog because on no other platforms where I can write would I have been able to express myself so unabashedly without having to explain myself or wear a silhouette on my words)

Saturday, 22 December 2012

The world will not end, it will not change!

When I received a message about candle light vigils to protest against the Delhi rape case, I smirked saying its on the 22nd and the world is supposed to end on the 21st December, so who's going to survive for it! No, I didn't really believe that the world was going to end on 21st. After all, I prepared for my Environmental Studies exam scheduled for today, (It doesn't get more ironical than this! To write an EVS exam after the world was supposed to end) but as far as standing up for women's rights was concerned I wasn't willing to step out for it.

Even today, I sat and before the television flipping news channels and checked updates on Twitter, but the passivity reached its peak just now: My friend messaged saying she was at the candle light vigil at Esplanade, and the crowd was massive. Not for once did I feel I should've been there. Why this passivity? Why wasn't I bothered enough?

I didn't believe that the world was ending yesterday, and I also didn't believe that anything in the world would CHANGE. 

Friday, 14 December 2012

Schools of thought

What I read in the newspaper a few days ago:
A newly wedded couple was heading back to their village on a bus, with other people of the bridegroom's side also travelling on the same bus. The wedding was in the neighbouring village where the girl's family lived and had organized the ceremony with great effort and even greater amounts of money by their standards.
As they headed back, the bus met with an accident and eight people died on the spot; one of which was the bridegroom's father himself. The mother of the bridegroom refuses to accept the new bride as part of her family. Considering her doomed, the woman feels that the young girl has brought ba luck and ill fate to her household and has not permitted her to step foot into their house. The accident wasn't her fault but merely a play of luck and fate. Nontheless, she's being made to pay the price and currently being housed by neighbours.

What I saw on an English sit-com called "Packed to the Rafters" on Star World:
Nathan Rafter and Sammy are getting married in the church. Everything goes as planned and its a wonderful ceremony. Just as the priest announces them man and wife and they kiss, Nathan's beloved grandmother falls to the ground and dies of a massive heart attack. They mourn and grieve and cancel their reception dinner. The following day after her funeral, the grandfather calls Sammy and says he's sorry she isn't being able to enjoy hwr newly wedded life. He assures her that his wife loved Nathan a lot and was proud of his decision of marrying Sammy, and she would't have wished either of them to take the blame on themselves. The grandfather then lovingly hugs Sammy as she cries.

Spot the Difference!

Sunday, 9 December 2012

When reel peeks into real

**All information provided in this post is imaginary and based on assumptions. None of it is verified: statistically, or otherwise.**
(Well, that was just an attempt to make the post feel like the beginning of a television program or a movie.)

I am an ardent believer of 'The Secret' by Rhonda Byrne. If it sounds Latin to you know, that The Secret is a belief propagated by Rhonda Byrne though her books. The belief system states that you attract in your life whatever you think. So, if you think positively the Genie of your Universe blesses you with the same. However, if your thoughts are depressing, sad, morose and abstractly disappointing then the Genie interprets them appropriately and applies the same to your life depending upon your unique situation.

This belief of mine met my love for television recently when I was blessed with a new set top box and its accompanying 350 channels! I love watching Star World but when there are shows I don't particularly follow, I switch to Sony. Nonetheless, with the all new experience of watching the television with two remote controls now, I was flipping channels and I reflected back on the plot of most of the Hindi serials. For time immemorial, they've been centering around broken homes caused by either an extra-marital affair or a quarrelsome mother and daughter-in-law duo. There are financial setbacks in these families caused by frauds and siblings pulling guns on each other every second day. Their scams are more often that not in crores and at least one household featured in the serial is a mansion. There's crying and there's back-biting, then some more crying and pitying, spitting venom and gaining sympathy the process goes on endlessly. These thoughts were going rampant on my mind when I paused on Bade ache lagte hain on Sony and I realized that the lead pair of the serial have barely lived a 'normal' life as that of a regular husband and wife. Ram and Priya were first forced into an arranged marriage, by the time they got close to each other Madam was cast away for five long years. Now that they're back in touch they're still fighting over the custody of their child. Evidently, they love each other. Well then, why can't they just start living like a family again! Why can't the serial makers show us what is normal! If the element of unusual has to be added then why does it always dwindle off to the negative end? Why can't they be unrealistically happy?

Food for thought: We see these pessimistically plotted serials usually during our family dinner time. At least a part of our minds holds on to these ideas and images and that is what our grey cells revolve around. So the big question is: Can the increase in the rate of depression among individuals and the increase in the number of broken homes be accorded to these serials, then?