For(S)tress

Sundays have a special place in every person’s heart. The only thing that comes close to occupying the mind of an Indian may be a cricket victory or a Bollywood blockbuster, closely followed by the Water/Electricity/Ration/Petrol/House Rent/Fee/Sabzi bills. For the many housewives of this country the second most craved thing after diamond/gold/kanjeevaram saree is a family outing on a Sunday. But this post is not about Sundays. This post is not about any such family either.

Many homes have a debate about the Sunday Outing which sometimes exacerbates the room temperature more than the tyranny at the equator. The kids make a big sacrifice of leaving their evening cricket match with friends and are made to dress up as if the idea is to enrol them for some beauty pageant. Maybe it is these small things that constitute the family bond. But this post is not about family bonding either.

Some families love to go out to gardens and spread garbage there. They take their home sheet, spread it and get the feel of a picnic. While relishing savouries like Chana Chor garam or popcorn, they take it as one of the duties stated in the Directive Principles of State policy rested on their shoulders, to spread garbage at the hangout spot. Others simply choose to go for a movie where, if any of the member (mostly men) doesn't like cinema per se,atleast peaceful sleep wont be denied except for purchase of cold drinks and pop corns during interval. For some families, the idea of a hangout is to go out and eat. That’s it!! But as you may have rightly guessed by now, this write up is not about the places where family hangs out on holidays either.

Before I play too much on the edge with the patience of the readers and the skills of this writer to express my opinions properly, let us try coming to the point. One of the favourite spots for a Sunday trip for families to spread garbage is the historical monuments that bless many cities of our country. Yes, this is the story of one such monument. This is my story- once shining with pride, now whining without prejudice structure, a body with some pieces of flesh left on it but sans the rib cage. I am the “Unchi Dukaan, No more Pakwaan” Kila.

Well how times change, and those who said that change is always for the good deserve a punch from either Rocky Balboa(Even Sunny Deol’s dhai kilo ka haath would suffice).

Let’s rewind a few centuries to get a hang of what I’m talking about:

FLASHBACK in Eastman Colour:

I don’t want to bask too much in the vainglory, but the glory back then was indeed magnificent. I was at my prime, with my edifice rock solid to guard the royal family. I saw the bravest of warriors in my lifetime who were never afraid to fight to protect the cause of their mighty motherland. The essence of royalty was evident in their demeanor as well as in the respect in the eyes of their subjects. I witnessed true blue blood instead of the desperation to bleed blue. I witnessed the strongest of men and the most gorgeous of women. In retrospect, it seems like staying with a different species altogether.

I was given prime importance and even a single chink in my walls was attended to with due diligence. Blood was sacrificed for a cause which was much bigger than just smearing names of lovers on my walls (or are they using just red ink these days??), not that romance was an alien concept then. To put it in a box-of-cookies-without-any-nuts( pardon the eccentricity of the writer, I shall have him fired soon), Life was indeed beautiful then.

CUT TO PRESENT TIME IN BLACK AND WHITE:

After seeing generations pass through and such turbulent changes in the political/social and economic setup, I wonder what else is left for me to see. What is this democracy and egalitarianism farce anyway, cant people have respect for their innate

nature of being ruled??Anyhow, anything said here should not be held against me as I’m strictly apolitical and if that isn’t sufficient for my defence then buy the theory that I’m very old and hence crazy. The only one to beat me as far as age is concerned is my very good friend since those times, Mr.A.K.Hungal.

My importance in the life of people around me has come crashing down over years like my wall on the southern end did in 1436 in a brutal war. My importance has been reduced to the mercy and the mood of the skinny and the fake accent guide who cooks up stories about me which leaves me in splits at times( as if the ones on my walls aren’t enough). Fancy the one where the broken pieces of the wall on the eastern half of the front gate hav

e been attributed to the vandalization caused by the attack in 1442 when the reality is that the strong breeze did the final rites of the already dead wall in 2001. ASI is too busy to notice, maybe still excavating Mohenjo-Daro and Harappa ruins as they find a mention quickly in the history books.

The purpose of people’s visits to my premise couldn’t be more diverse than the agenda of Capitalists and Communists. Just the invisible hand of having a good time is the common thread. Parents bring their kids so that they can understand the cultural heritage of the country as well as the richness of the history that our country has to offer, much to the bewilderment of the kids who somehow just can’t relate to the mystic beauty of the ruins. The Artillery section is the only one where I have seen sparkling eyes of boys who get excited on seeing all the weapons. I can see it in their eyes that they start dreaming about themselves battling it out in those costumes fighting the mighty enemy and emerging victorious to conquer kingdoms. Since people aren’t charged much to visit us because of our supposed importance t

o the country’s heritage, they throng in large numbers and needless to say the larger the visitors, the more employment generation for the cleaners.

I’ve witnessed some of the finest artists this country has ever been blessed with. The artists with their scintillating carvings and paintings have adorned my anatomy over years. The modern day, however, seems to have a clear deficiency of quality artists and thus they are substituted by obsessive lovers who decide to engrave their immortal love on my walls. Although I never asked for it myself, but I have been made part of millions of love stories like Ramu loves Kamala, Pokiri Loves Missamma, Anjaana loves Anjaani and lyrical masterpieces like “Hogi Pyar Ki jeet”. The word spellbound has a new found meaning in my existence now.

The generosity of the lovers does not end here. They take the onus proactively to show me how deeply and madly they are in love with each other with highly innovative ways of Public Display of Affection. One of the first lessons of marketing does talk about understanding the Target Group and then going all out to acquire them and retain them. Well, atleast on weekdays, these lovers are my main audience ( or am I the audience to their escapades, whatever !!). The acquisition and now the compelled retention is proving a tough cookie to digest.

The peculiarity of people who visit does not end here. One such wonderful yet slightly amusing category is of the foreign tourists. They are astonished at anything and everything. I’m not sure it’s the novelty factor or the fact that our guides are wonderful raconteurs, but they leave my premise as if they have just reinvented the wheel. The only sad part about their visits is the illustrations and anecdotes they narrate of all the places they have visited and start comparing me with my competitors. Why wouldn’t a neglected fort like me be disheartened to know that some fort in Rajasthan is so majestic or is still without a sign of ageing? Adding oregano to injury isn’t basic manners, now is it???

Time is an illusion and the mirage does seem to show uncanny things which might not even exist. Even though I’m left in ruins, I live with the pride of being the carrier of preserving the last remains of a kingdom and maybe a civilization for that matter. I’ve been a silent spectator to the rise and fall of generations. I don’t expect one to respect heritage and preserve it, maybe its too much for ask for. The only

courtesy that would be sane to expect is that people would not at least ruin the sanctity of the place that once was a symbol of pride and glory. After all, I may be your last hope of a Time Machine to relive that era.

The Bold Face Of Beauty

There are three magical words which have defined some of the most prized moments of human history. They have been at the nub of some of the biggest battles, some of the uncanniest contentions or the subject of the most ubiquitous desire in Almighty’s most prized creation- human beings. The three magical words aren’t every lover’s karaoke song “I Love You” but instead the three cornerstones of every civilization, the mitochondria of the most defining emotions. They are – Beauty, Power and Money.

Considering the fact that we live in a world where we are taught virtues from the time we leave our prams, it is highly ironical that the virtues are not ably reflected or rather absorbed by our wisdom. Call it lack of egalitarianism on the part of God to spread wisdom equitably or sheer ignorance (deliberate or undeliberate is something we won’t deliberate on) on the part of few, but what becomes a muse for some of the world’s finest creations holds an equally potent capacity to open the doors of destruction for Satan to come and impart his blitzkrieg.

Beauty is one such potion that has inspired the most gifted artists to come up with their best works and at the same time has led barbarians to annihilate lives. Is it pure hedonism or sheer lack of character that allures people to physical beauty, making them nonchalant to everything else in the world?

What persuaded Dorian Gray to sell his soul just to retain his nonpareil beauty forever? Can we really blame Lord Henry that his immoral influence led to the change of heart in Dorian Gray? Or was it just his innate desire, concocted with deep insecurity, which came out under the veil of hedonistic pleasures to bring out his true side?

The truth as a matter of fact is, whether we like it or not, there is a part of us which falls into the trap of this black hole. We do discard all such conjectures with able assertiveness calling them “Mediocre thoughts”, but the fact remains that we are part of this loop as well. What else could possibly explain the fact that in every movie the hero falls for the most beautiful girl of the group a.k.a the heroine? Doers he ever make even a remote attempt to find out how the other girls of her group might be like? Does he even care about the fact that her friend might be a much better person than the protagonist? Doesn’t the adage proudly engraved in the “We-are-the-real-lovers-“ rosy Lalaland about “Love at first sight” actually corroborate this whole hypothesis? What else draws a person otherwise in the “love at first sight” case if not the other person’s beauty ?

We live in a world where our face acts as the medium of our endorsement. It is a harsh truth to accept but that’s how it is. Even if I move away from the realms of personal relationships and move to a ground that is portrayed to be highly organized and meticulous, the situation changes as much as a dog’s twisted tail. We are unfortunately reaching a stage where being presentable may not be presentable enough. It has become a stark reality to witness the multiplier effect of the X-factor, a highly adorned but rarely understood concept, around us. Looking good is fast becoming one of the prerequisites, and if it continues this way then we may not be far enough from the day where the entire concept of a geeky look may become obsolete. Although it may lead to celebrations in a school of thought who apostle the theory, but does that mean that someone like Mr. Kalam would actually have to go to a beauty salon before a missile launch? Beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder they say, but what if the eye lashes become overcritical to lash everyone around.

Face is meant to be a reflection of our thoughts. It is meant to be a mirror which displays the mirage of our thoughts without any bias. It is a book that only the privileged can read to absorb the thoughts running in a person’s mind. Not everyone has the acumen to read a face and gauge the mood of a person(unless you are a clairvoyant or the other person is an over dramatized wannabe performer).

It is the same face which is one of the biggest motivators for vanity. Vanity is a trait we all have ingrained deeply in our DNA. It is highly unrealistic to expect a person not to like himself/herself. Even people who are suffering from low self esteem do have their moments when they admire themselves. We all have a balloon called ego which craves to be inflated with airs about it. Compliment and attention are the favourite travel companions of ego whenever it decides to visit Vanity land. It is an equally flummoxing yet realistic truth that there is something about being praised of one’s looks that instills an unparalleled pride in a person.

Now some may argue that the trait rests more predominantly in the fairer sex compared to the male counterparts. Maybe it does, but it is difficult to segregate. It is more than apt to accept the fact that men are equally if not more stuck in this whirlpool. Although we all love to use our defence mechanism of modesty to confirm first whether it was a genuine compliment or sarcastic mockery, there is a certain feel good thing associated with the entire phenomenon. Human race is fascinated with physical beauty and would continue to do so.

The World has seen Gods/ Goddesses who are embodiments of beauty. Aphrodite, Venus, Hathor and even Lakshmi. They are revered and considered to be highly powerful in their own rights. The modern day cosmetic surgeons and cosmetic good manufacturers do strive hard to see their name in the list, but the destination still seems away from them. Maybe they need better subjects to deal with (No pun intended).

Beauty is a circe that does allure a person towards it and some of them may be turned to swine later on. But this is not the real danger. The real danger lies in the fundamental problem we all have. We have to accept this reality and move out of the comfort zone of our hypocrisy.

There is nothing wrong in being enamoured by it, where things may go horribly wrong is when you start questioning and discarding other characteristic traits by keeping this as the ultimate cornerstone.

जायका मीठे का

बात उन दिनों की है जनाब,
जब हम होते थे हर जशन के साथी|
खुशिओं के हर डाक के संग,
हमारी महक रौनक फैलाती|

पप्पू जब भी पास हुआ था,
शर्मा जी की हुई तरक्की,
इकबाल मियां ने पहली कार खरीदी,
या हुई थी जब मिश्रा जी की शादी पक्की|

जब गूंजी थी वो पहली किलकारी,
जब आँगन में फैला था हर्षौल्लास,
सबका मुह मीठा कराकर ही,
अपनी खुशियों का ज़ाहिर किया था एहसास|

बात उन दिनों की है जनाब,
जब मामूली दिन को हम उत्सव बनाते थे|
हम चखने चखाने में ही लेते थे आनंद,
किलो पाव की गिनती नहीं गिनाते थे|

जब माँ छुपाती थी हमको बच्चों से,
कभी डब्बों में कभी अलमारी के अन्दर,
सूंघ सूंघ के हर कोने पर,
सफल हो ही जाते थे नन्हे धुरंदर|

हमारे जायके के किस्से तो,
हर घर, हर गली में फैले ज़रूर है|
बच्चों के संग संग बड़ों के भी,
ललचाने के पल मशहूर है|

पर अब न जाने क्यों समय बदल चुका है,
पीढ़ियों का ये चक्र अपनी परिक्रमा चल चुका है|
अब मुह मीठा करने की बात पे ये आदम,
चोकोलेट से तुलना में लग चुका है|

कुछ कद्रदान अब भी है हमारे,
जो diabetes से डर कर नहीं बैठ जाते|
दूध संग जलेबी का स्वाद अब भी लेते है,
उसका प्रयोग सीधे होने के मुहावरे तक सीमित नहीं बनाते|

उत्सव के हर अवसर पर,
चांदी का वर्क हमारा गहना बना|
आज बनाने वाले ने ही ख़ुशी में कर दी मिलावट,
तो अब सवालों का उठना तो लाज़मी बना|

खबरों में हमारी चर्चा,
हमारे स्वाद की प्रशंसा में होती भली|
पर अब तो जनाब खबरें भी,
हमारी मिठास में कड़वाहट घोलती चली|

हर कोने से हम सब पर,
आक्रमण के तीर चले|
पर अब भी हमारे कुछ कद्रदान,
हमारी चाह में कई मील चले|

ये व्यथा नहीं उल्लास का समय है,
फिर बंध रहा है खुशियों का रंग|
बीते समय की मीठी यादें बटोरिये,
और सजाइए थाली में मीठे का संग|

घर पर सब मिलकर बनाएं,
या चखे हलवाई के हाथ का कमाल |
बात उन दिनों या इन दिनों की नहीं है जनाब,
ये तो बस संग मौज मनाने का है सवाल |

The first curve on the road to El Dorado

“Life becomes a crisp toast if the thoughts are buttered properly”

Thoughts have the pleasure of relishing adventures that we could only wish for. They pack their bags and set on a journey to any corner of the world, enjoy uncanny swashbuckling experiences. They are mavericks in true sense of the word that love to explore things till infinity and beyond. But unfortunately for them, they have a mean step cousin, named concentration which imparts atrocity of dragging them back from their frenzy and incarcerating them in a prison meant to focus only on one thing. But it is actually not as bad as it sounds- the ones who manage to strike a chord between the two end up with the most melodious symphony of life. A college tries to create the same musical rhythm in one’s life so that thoughts and concentration complement each other instead of taking out daggers.


As I sip my coffee early on a Sunday morning looking at nature which tries to flaunt its bloom with all vanity- the birds singing their euphony and sun marching its way up in the sky set out on a mission. The gentle breeze for a change decides not to be a snob and bless everyone by flowing gently. The roads have their few moments of peace before vehicles start their rampage on its ribs. Watching this picturesque setup, I ruminate over my time spent so far at NMIMS doing MBA- the coveted course that I wanted to do since as long as I can remember. Now, that I’m on the hot seat immersed in the process- I’m filled with ambivalence mostly because I hardly get a chance to sit back and cogitate over how the salad days of this journey have been. So let us turn the clocks backwards for a while and rewind to June 2010-


The city of Mumbai-fast, busy, ruthless, cradle of self discovery, passionate, the city that never sleeps are just few of the qualifying words and phrases that adorns this city. At the cost of sounding filmy may I say like any other person, I came with my own aspirations here. When I got down the train, my first reaction was- God! What an avalanche of people. But as they say, love can come from the most unexpected of quarters. Before you get any ideas may I clarify that I didn’t see a curl of hair hiding a beautiful face and then there was the moment of ecstasy. By love, I mean what started as a rude shock became a source of penchant with time.


The first tryst in this new peregrination was the hostel. A new experience altogether for someone who had seen extreme levels of mollycoddling at grandparents place during graduation. At the time of bidding adieu, their concern was as if a camel has been transported from Thar desert to the Arctic Circle. Mom, being the sweetheart that moms are, started with the question about how are the roommates and how is the food. After round 1 of assurance, round 2 of reassurance till round thirty seven of more reassurance, was she satisfied that her poor kid would survive in this tyrannous world.


The scene on the first day of any academic year is a photographer’s delight. The countenance on each face has so many expressions that it would put any actor to shame. One can clearly see the ambivalence of excitement and pride of making it finally to the coveted place, but simultaneously one can see lines on the forehead reflecting the concern of what the journey ahead would hold in store. This concern is of course exacerbated by the induction session where a virtual visual of the journey ahead is run right in front of your eyes and you start thinking- Ahem Ahem, maybe I hurried into my decision. The early rounds of introductions, asking each other for their names and backgrounds and then asking them again because with so many people around you keep forgetting the names. So it may not be an exaggeration if one ends up asking the same person his name 5-6 times (Guys for some strange reason have Chacha Chaudhary’s memory when it comes to remembering girls’ names). One can also see guys trying to create the first mover advantage (marketing concepts can be taught much better outside the classroom) on the fairer sex and of course the girls love all the attention they get.


After the warm welcome, you are introduced to the concept of case study method, which schools of thoughts are still battling over and the breaking of Berlin wall over this still seems like a distant dream. As a student, you are flooded with cases left, right and centre and before you take your guard you find yourself sitting in the arena with 60 more gladiators. Every warrior takes his/her swords out and starts slaughtering everyone else to win “The Great Battle of Class Participation”. Gautam Buddha, Mahatma Gandhi and Nelson Mandela would have fainted at this literal obnoxious slaughtering of their preachings.


The battleground is restricted to the class hours. Apart from that, it is wonderful to find people of different socio cultural backgrounds and experiences coming together and working on different projects. The initial phase for me was certainly a cultural shock when I was made to realize that drinking and smoking has somehow become a normal course of activity in the lives of people. It seems like I have been transported from my archaic world to the new age world in a matter of days. What started as a cultural shock is now alleviating as maybe a way of life. Words such as “smoking networks, delightfully high discussions” have crept their way into the vocabulary and one has to appreciate the fact that you may not do it, but there is no point in secluding yourself from the ones who do.


As coffee is on its way from the cup into my system, the thoughts keep wandering about these few months. There is a sudden rush of thoughts; the pictures coming in front of the eyes with every blink are faster than Rajnikant’s punches to fifty people at the same time. The sun rises further in the sky and I immerse further in my thoughts of flashback.


The first month is completely crazy where you are bombarded with ideas, opinions, viewpoints, the jargons reflective of a college’s tradition (Read: gas). Add to that multiple committees; first you feel that you would choose which one to join, only to realize later that you may not be chosen by any (Eventually one does end up in something). This bombardment of ideas was of course in concatenation with the usual mystery that surrounds accounting, the unimaginable purview of marketing which even fails the phrase that sky is the limit, the micro concepts of economics that even the biologists have declared them as unidentifiable species and the some-foreign-guy-gave-this-model concepts of HR. I think I started off by saying that this is what I wanted to do since as long as I remember. Ahem Ahem, wake up kid.
But to be honest, I won’t be a cynic here playing the devil’s advocate. It is this challenge every day that creates a vivid memory for you to share later. The sleepless nights, the emptying of coffee mugs again and again, racking all your brain nerves to understand and balance the assets and liabilities at least for once, to procrastinate first and then working like maniacs to meet the deadlines of an assignment, sitting with your group with the intent of a project meeting and ending up with tea, vada pav and a sandwich party( of course for some it ends with a certain cult place on the Irla Road- it’s the place that shall not be named but only revered).


One actually gets to feel like the poor pillow which people, for some strange reason, decide to use for a fight and it is being spanked from all quarters. It makes you tough, it makes you help rise to the occasion and if not the above two- it makes you console yourself everytime “It can’t get any worse than this”, only to be proved wrong again the very next day. For me, right from the moment the day starts with the customary music of the lift that every NM student worships even more than the NMIMS Anthem(I hope I’m not getting killed for this), to the time when you just can’t wait to crash into your bed but contain yourself saying that an hour more else the next day might turn catastrophic, each day here is a host to a new chapter of life- it is a tale that I’m sure we would all love to narrate wherever we go in future, it is an anecdote that has exuded spice in bland lifestyles, it is the flavor that would make the dish just about perfect for everyone to relish.


Tom Hanks said in Forest Gump –“Life is like a box of chocolates, you never know what you’re going to get next.” Well over the past few months, I have agreed to this statement every single day. You just cannot predict what might come and stop you on your free ride down the expressway. Either one takes it in right spirit and gains the best out of things that come their way or spend their time cribbing over how life has been so cruel. The ones who do the former, needless to say, tread on the path of greatness.


The biggest lesson that NMIMS’s salad days have taught me is that I may not be the most knowledgeable guy, I may not be the most creative, I may not be the most gregarious one either but as long as I can be myself writing cheques that my body can cash and as long as I can hold my own, I have created an apt space for myself. The queen of hearts may be the best bet, but not drawing the queens on diamonds would be completely crazy.


A college is not only an institution where I become knowledgeable or more intelligent, it is the place I become wiser. It is the place where I get into self discovery, it is the place where I decide to face the world with an open mind and heart saying- “Here I am, prepared to take you on. Let the game begin.”
There is a silent hope that comes with every wish that the step cousins- thought and concentration do stay together and after these initial days for me in NMIMS, they are finally finding peace with one another and now becoming agreeable to stay in the same stable. I just hope that peace prevails.


The thoughts decide to set out on a new voyage now and I realize that my cup of coffee is finally empty again. Bother to pour in something?

pa'U'nchtantra

"If you are going through hell, keep going" said Mr. Churchill. Yeah, easy for you to say, Mr. Churchill. I wonder if you kept the same spirit after you were ousted from power after the Second World War. I always had an issue with two categories of people- people who present an overly optimistic view of the world as if when you'd step out of your door,people would shower flowers on you sans the thorns, you open your mouth and the world would sit back and listen to the pearls of wisdom you've to offer and most importantly the fact that there are so many around you, who can never have enough of you irrespective of the way you are. Balderdash !!!

now comes the second category- the attention seeking, the melodramatic and full of theatrics people who keep cribbing about the fact that life has been so mean to them and how at every step they have only found debacle to grasp them tightly and smooch them so hard that they lose the will to stand up one more time like a gladiator and fight.

If you belong to either of the categories, I'd simply say- Wake up!! You've seen nothing. If anyone ever decides to live my life for a day would realize how condescending the world can be, how mean and brutal people are and how it feels to bear those disgusted looks of everyone at every moment of one's life. I'm the poor paunch, the belittled belly and the tortured tummy. Don't start thinking of more names now as if the three given already aren't demeaning enough. Now you listen to my story(Flaaaaaaaaasssssssssshhhhhhhhhhbbbbaaaaaackkkkkkk)

My inception is always an issue of high contention and constant altercation. I don't even know who exactly led to my birth- sometimes I'm attributed to brazen guzzling, sometimes to hereditary problems, sometimes to the lack of exercise and the self proclaimed intellectuals, for the lack of a better thing to do in life, use all their theories to obfuscate it further by mixing the theories.For them their theories might lead to laurels and patents, but they don't realize the excruciation they impart is inexcusably blatant. Imagine the jinx of one's life whose birth has been blemished by hypothetical theories. Can it get any worse? Of course it can- read on.

(Back to present day)
I always am the subject of prying eyes wherever I go. Its like a tradition, an unsaid ritual which makes the person I reside in highly embarrassed and he'd inflict tyrannous torture to obliterate me. I don't know if its a sadist pleasure of the human species that is satisfied with this, but Ab-crunchers??? I can't even imagine doing that to my step cousins- six pac or the newly born eight pac and size zero. Imagine someone sets you steady and then folds and unfolds you constantly until you get all dizzy, is it a sane treatment to anyone??? Talk of human rights!!!! What about ours??

Since the time these step cousins came up, life has become nothing short of HELL for me. Constant peer pressure, too high expectations to perform, constant evaluations and regular visits to my crematorium- the slimming centres, gym and health clubs is what my life has become a victim of. Even my social circle is diminishing at a staggering rate, and may reach extinction soon. Before I finish this autobiographical account, few of my distant relatives would have lost a couple of inches of their life. Please save us- only 14", 11" left.

Its not that life has always been that cruel on us- there were times when we were attributed to prosperity and people who gave us abodes were considered to belong to be coming from booming families. There are still a few proponents of this school of thought, and they are the ones who belong to a coterie of people with great clout, but the betrayal of one of the vanguards of this revolution cost us big time and our revolution started falling like a pack of cards. Adnan Sami down down !!!!

It is really surprising to see how people can be so nonchalant and disinterested in the plight of the lives that reside in me. How can they simply turn away their faces from this ghastly act of blotting out my tenants- carbs, fats and lots of sugars without even a proper rehabilitation program. That's a clear case of homicide especially considering the fact that the one who does it celebrates it as one of life's biggest achievements. I'm falling short of adjectives for such gory psyche of people, and they are the ones who talk of egalitarianism, CSR and what not. Height of hypocrisy!!

I've a humble request to all of you- even we've feelings, so next time you visit a gym please remember you are not only burning carbs and fats, you are burning out emotions and bringing an end to a civilization. This entire fad of size zero, six pacs, metro sexuality is preposterous and just a gimmick. You must take cue from the school of thought that we indeed are an indicator of prosperity. I want you all to introspect and confess to yourself- wasn't it pleasure of sumptuous food, wonderful laziness during early mornings that gave birth to us. We gave so much happiness to you even before we were born, please don't terminate us from the face of the world.

Oh God, I've to go. My boss is going for a gym session, so I may never come back again. Just remember my words- Make Life FULLfilling.

Unique 'eunuchs'

Oh God, not again !! Why this restlessness, anxiety with a motley of evasion, unwanted tension whenever an eunuch comes across- this time in a local train in Mumbai.

Flashback- During every journey to Udaipur in train across Gujarat have I encountered an eunuch coming up asking for money. They are boisterous, loud, dressed in bright gaudy sarees animatedly clapping as though in a clamour procession. They come, make sure that no stone is left unturned to embarrass you- they'd pull your cheeks ,whistle, stroke your hair and make sure you give some breathing space to your pocket else the ignominy could get worse.


But I wonder why do we tend to get helpless when it comes to dealing with them? One shoos away beggars as though they don't exist, one feels compassion towards kids who beg, one feels sorry for the incapacitated who're forced to resort to ask for money to make both ends meet. But why does a eunuch not evoke any such feeling? Why are disgust, grimace, embarrassment, flummox the adjectives which come to my mind on any encounter with them? Am I being too cynical ? One may say so but every experience just reiterates this feeling.

Flipping pages of our history, its clearly elucidated that eunuchs were very important for the kings. They were given the responsibility of the security of the queen and her female friends. On our visit to Golconda fort, I remember the guide clearly telling that men were castrated to make them suitable for this job so that any kind of sexual advances towards the female presence in the palace can be put out of contention. So be it castrated men or transgenders, eunuchs had a lot to offer to the society. But why did it change with time? Their importance was no longer felt and they had to resort to begging, prostitution or dancing. The 21st century eunuch is hardly seen as an active member of the society. They are treated no better than beggars and somehow they haven't tried too hard to shed this image either. They crash on weddings, child births and other auspicious family occasions and demand for money. It is a highly held belief that they've occult powers and their blessings and curse both have tremendous power. So you may call it people succumbing to these beliefs or simply trying to evade the scene that they tend to create, they offer money and bid them good riddance.

Now a eunuch can either be a transgender or a castrated man. This avenue of quick money has made many men perfectly normal but short of money to dress like a eunuch and charge. They beg on traffic signals, trains or gate crash functions to earn this money. Its not the prerogative of eunuchs to beg but somehow the entry of normal men into this business has exacerbated the scenario. In a country where the voting rights to eunuchs was bestowed as late as 1994 and which claims to be the only country where the term still holds pertinence( rest all have switched over to LGBT or castrated men), we ought to do better to provide them an alternative.Its not asking for too much, is it?

Shabnam Mausi led the bandwagon when she became the first eunuch to be elected into a public office. She became an MLA in one of the constituencies in Madhya Pradesh. She tried to work on a lot of grounds; right from the emancipation of women to creating awareness about transgenders and HIV. But even she couldn't mobilize the issue of bringing human right laws for eunuchs in our country. They are still looked down upon as the third gender- "cursed for their sins of the past life" in the words of our antediluvian proponents of the society. They are living a deteriorated life both socially and economically and have to create a parallel world of their own. Maybe this is the reason why they behave the way they do. Maybe this is the reason why they choose to stick to begging and create ignominious situation for people as that may pacify the schadenfreude in them who wants to take the vengeance for this sorry life. One million is a huge number and can be a useful resource if proper programs are implemented. Why can't they have normal day jobs, normal work schedules, normal shopping experiences, normal outings without prying eyes??

SRK once said in an interview his dream role would be to play a eunuch on celluloid. Shabnam Mausi(movie) and Welcome to Sajjanpur did try to talk about transgender rights. Late Nirmal Pandey one an award for the best actress( Yes !!! actress) for his performance in Daayra. Yet cinema, considered a powerful medium, has shied away often to come out in open to support this cause. I've seen no govt. coming out with an agenda on this issue and I've slim hopes in the future as well. But its high time they stand on their feet as well without being myopic just because of the quick buck.

They can no more be reactive and expect things to change, they've to be proactive and earn their respect. I may have just touched the tip of the iceberg, but they have to make sure that they no more remain murky waters.

Let's Talk

The Setup- An elliptical table conference. Was supposed to be round table, petty issues stretched too much made it this way. The office is the Home Ministry.

People- Home Minister, Chief Ministers, Naxal Leader.

Agenda- You have to be kidding me.

The Home Minister tried to make everyone feel at home. The sugarless biscuits made everyone feel otherwise. A late probe by the CBI revealed it was a mix of the Austerity Drive and high sugar price. Opposition Chief Ministers clamored taking out the blank protest banners hidden under their kurtas and wrote this agenda on it, UPA CM's blamed the EU and Australia for racial discrimination in exports of sugar, peon took a shot at the Ration shop retailer, others simply blamed fate for making them diabetic.

Home Secretary :- Ladies and Gentlemen, lets put the meeting to order (" To Disorder" is what he thinks in mind). Words like "Telangana, Vidarbha, Gorkhaland, bad tea, cobwebs in the room, my mistress better than yours" should be left to the informal post lunch forum. Sattar(70) Minute, sattar min hai tumhare paas. Shayad yeh.. tumhare zindagi ke sab se… khaas sattar minute.

( Jharkhand, Chattisgarh CM's couldn't hide the giggles- stare from the Home Minister)

Home Minister(referred to as Homey from now on):- So should we start with the Naxalite leader or would the CM's like to put a point first?

Andhra, Orissa, Jharkhand, MP, Chattisgarh jump into it simultaneously and the sound is something like this- My Andhra Pradesh/ screwed up Jharkhand/vandalized Chattisgarh / MP is responsible/ for Orissa's labour crisis.

Home Minister loses it. He stands up with grit and a lot of aggressive intent and says in his South Indian accent- Mujhe states ki naam na sunayie dethe hai, na dhikaie dete hai. Sirf ek mulk-ka-naam sunayie detha hai, I-N-D-I-A

( Gujarat joins the giggles with Chattisgarh and Jharkhand)

The NAXALITE leader was wondering why did his men have to die and kill when there were so many volunteers, he still stood up and said) - Mao Zedong once said.....(he was interrupted)

TN CM woke up, decided maybe there were media cameras around, so he ought to say something, says plight of Tamilians miserable in Sri Lanka.

Homey- Issue in next meeting

Maharashtra- Thackerays getting out of hand.

Homey- Next meeting.

Rajasthan- Gujjars threaten again.

Homey- Next meeting

Naxal Leader- Mao Zedong said....

Homey- Next meeting.

Karnataka- Sri Ram Sena has to be dealt with for beating women.

Homey- Next meeting.

Goa- More foreigners raped.

Homey:- next meeting.

Naxal Leader- Mao Zedong said....

Homey- Next meeting.

(West bengal and Kerala CM's whisper the wisdom to the Naxal leader's ears- " Try quoting Marx - worked for us always"!!!!

Naxal Leader- Kal Marx said....

Homey- Can't you think something of your own, its been 40 years since your fight started. You still quote the same old shit. Seems like a warm place with no memory.

Kerala and WB CM's giggle, whisper to the Naxal leader again- Can't believe you bought that. Noone ever listens to Communists in this country.

Arunachal Pradesh, Mizoram, Manipur, Sikkim go on plucking the rose petals kept on the table and keep mumbling- " We are in India, We are in China- We are in India, we are in China- We are in India, we are in China".

Homey- Can't we come to the agenda now?

Karnataka rises and says- Isn't it time for lunch now?

Home Secretary jumps into this mayhem and says- Please everyone focus on the agenda here. The country has their eyes set on us.

Everyone in chorus- Is it? Damn you planted cameras here??? How much did NDTV/Times Now/ CNN IBN/Doordarshan bribe you??? ( Like you believe the last one has enough to bribe)

Home Secy- No sir , I didn't mean literally.

UP - yeah... we hate Literature. We want no computers, we want no English. Pass on our budget and we shall leave. We've some statues to build you know.

The chaos continues. Homey decides to bring in some discipline. Rises up and says our police force is not competent enough to fight invasion.

J & K- Tell me that. I asked one of the personnel to shoo away the cat that stealthily came into my bedroom and he couldn't even do it. We need better security.

WB- We need reforms.

Uttarakhand- We need loan waiver.

Assam- We want higher NREGA share.

Gujarat- I want some more cookies please. My plate has been empty for long.

Homey loses all hope. All he could say is - Next Meeting !!!