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. 

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!

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?

Kasab Closure

A day after Kasab's execution, reading all the news articles on the 'incident' and discussing the topic with friends; I thought back on that dreadful November when it all happened. I had become extremely emotional and all that mattered through those long hours was the 24x7 news updates on TV. I had written out a letter and a poem and carried out a long public campaign around it. I got signatures from my school and we formed groups and sent in this letter and poem to each newspaper in the city and I also e-mailed it to the then Governor of Kolkata. Those were the days of hyper-activity around such events. The poem goes.....

DEAR GOD,

They say what YOU do is always for the good

But what happened in Mumbai can't be understood

YOU created a million humans who looked the same

But YOU made 1 big mistake and it's a shame!

YOU allowed them to adopt different paths to thank you

Now, in that name, they fight and argue.

These arguments have now taken a violent turn

They don't hesitate to kill, slash, hit and burn

They say when something goes wrong YOU send an angel to set it right

In this darkness, I see no light

No, I haven't lost a close relative or even a mere acquaintance

But yet there are reasons for which I'm upset- humanity, for instance!

They say people die when they are destined to-

The trainee chef was just 22

A Mr. X was on a holiday with his family, relaxing in the hotel room

When she left for work in the morning,

                 the receptionist didn't know her life would end so soon.

They say people die, because YOU choose their soul,

They also say YOU have a heart of gold

But today, I think quite otherwise

YOU'RE probably lazy, even if YOU'RE wise

YOU'RE selfish I feel,

From a 6 month baby, his mother YOU did steal.

On his birthday, he's left as an orphan!

They say whatever happens, YOU'LL take care

What's happening right now is worse than a nightmare!

Dear GOD, send us an intelligent brain,

A little bit of conscience and a sense of shame,

Send in YOUR angel or YOU be the Saviour yourself

Dear GOD, do something,

PLEASE HELP!

Warm regards,                                                                  

 AN INDIAN

Today, I seem to myself as character out of a typical Hindi blockbuster. I started out with this excessive feeling of nationalism and justice. Now, I am a person who is itching to get out of the country because I've taken it for granted that nothing here, will change!

The festival of Lights

A hope lingers in my heart when the Diwali lamp is lit on my doorstep, every morning and evening for five days the doorstep is almost deified. Shoes are in place and not an element of dust can be seen anywhere. If you're unlucky, you might just see the soot settling off the diyas on the door frame.
The rice lights adorn the pathway and much else, too! (Considering that these lights are now manufactured and brought in from China, its no fallacy to claim Diwali an international festival!) This year my parents added LED lights to the beauty of the house and I'm not sure how that makes a difference but it sure adds to the shine and shimmer.

As the different colours on the string of rice lights took their turns to come on, as the flame of the lamp fluttered in the cool, evening breeze; my heart made a score of wishes today. I wanted this, and that and maybe God could give me that as well. It shouldn't be so tough for God, 'cuz She has everything at her disposal, right? Yes, my wishlist is long, and usually secretively silent too but there's no harm in that, I feel.

What got me thinking was the whole celebration of the victory of good over evil and how we choose this festival to replace the idols of the famous Ganesh-Laxmi, in our own little temples at home. It is as if you renew the forces of the Lord and Lordess and put forth your wishlist all over again: a fresh, new one. It needn't be consolidated, and perhaps not even well explained because the Almighty is after all 'Know-it-all'.

Standing on a threshold and moving towards the end of my college life: opportunities, responsibilities and diverse experiences awaiting me after the April of 2013;this Diwali, I have a lot to ask for. The seemingly funny one and perhaps the only one I can share so publicly is that: Tomorrow for the Ganesh-Laxmi puja, I shall place my Passport before God! After all, unless the skies have stamped it, no other Visa authority can allow you into their country!

Tomorrow, as you welcome the 'new' Gods to your home, what will you wish for? 

Talking Aloud

There was a time when I had abandoned my Facebook account because the then Newsfeed page was dull and drab. I mean, what had I to do with people voicing their every action and move. Today, somehow I've found myself in the same shoes and I know what it means to post a status, photo or comment on social media.
While marketeers, sellers and promoters use this as a medium to achieve their goal, it is not Lord alone who knows the other powers of this seemingly simple thing!
We, especially girls, get some thrill out of posting a line: either to foretell or forgive, either to predict or preach, to acknowledge or announce.
This, I realized after my repeated change of WhatsApp statuses. You anticipate who's reading it, seeing it and if you're a thinking person you take the liberty to go that extra mile and even assume their reactions. I, for one, can build a whole cause and effect reaction in my mind, based on one status alone. Its funny what those restricted number of characters can do and the ruckus(or pleasure!) they can cause.

Whether or not this is right is another story but an honest acknowledgement is that, I do it. I spend hours to go through others' statuses and days to think up of a witty line for my own account! That's what it is, as sad as it sounds: A majority of us refrain from saying things on the face, and drop hints on statuses and change our profile pictures often to set start a roller coaster of emotions!

Taken for granted

I am a citizen of Kolkata, born and brought up here.I live in Kolkata,crib about it, complain, dislike and disregard it but at the same time, there are moments when I can't help but love it, appreciate it, rejoice its glory. Just about every verb in the dictionary can befit my city.

In the past 20 years of my life, I've always looked forward to the Durga Puja and enjoyed it. However, this year was an exception. There was no frenzy, no looking-forward-to feeling. If you asked me why I'd have a zillion answers, knowing fully well that none of them would be valid.
I heard the dhak, saw the pandal, worshipped the devi. Whether I resounded the dhak mentally, noticed the intricate work of the pandal, is another story. I worshiped the Goddess with all due respect, it is the enjoyment, the glee and the emotion associated which just went missing somehow.

And this I realized, when I complained to my mother today saying, "Mumma my legs hurt and I don't know why 'cuz I haven't really walked much!" She replied instantaneously, " You didn't see the Puja this year, so the Goddess is just leaving a reminder before she wishes us farewell!"