What’s in a name? Duh

Starting with the clichéd statement -What’s in a name? Shakespeare gave us this magnificent line to be used repeatedly and rested in his grave…But for people like me- What’s in a name has become a a half broken nail stuck to my skin- it doesn’t breaks away completely nor does it sticks completely. It hurts a lot as soon as the SUBJECT is touched. My name is causing a great unrest amongst various section of people. They are in a total dilemma of my name…such is the importance of nomenclature in today’s world. Phewww. Here is my post sharing the histronics spying against my name changes.

What's in a name?

 

  Anyways my parents were glad and happily enjoying the ten years of wedding and a naughty boy totally unaware of entrance of another bundle knocking their door steps. As its now clear that I was an unplanned joy as my mum believed strictly believed in single child norm specially after Sanjay Gandhi’s preaching. No name was in mind and for a long time I was called as Baby, gudiya, bittoo and all those banal Indian names that grannies used to call just any kid around. Well finally I was christened as Anu considering the fact it means Atom- the smallest component as I was the youngest. Finally time came to send me to school to avoid my constant chattering and non stop questions. When the principal asked my name to be written on the admission form..my mom out of the blue said - Mehak. And similar to my birth my name was also christened - OUT OF THE BLUE. From playschool to 2nd grade my name slip on every book/notebook/drawings sheets was labelled as Mehak Srivastava. It was bit difficult for me to learn the spelling thanks to my long surname. Well when I came in grade three technological changes reflected on my name as well as Papa took out printouts of names to avoid writing again and again. A bad spelling mistake (there was no spell check in those days) made my name Mahak Srivastava and I continued with it. School was changed in grade 4 and here too my name went as Mahak Srivastava on the admission form. But my teachers continued spelling it as Mehak Srivastava in the attendance registers and report cards. When I was in grade tenth my name went as Mahak Srivastava as the name was directly copied from the admission register. Poor me - had to remember myself everytime to spell it as Mahak while adding my name in answer sheets. Well grade 12 was a different story as by then I had already requested CBSE to spell my name as Mehak Srivastava. So my 12th marksheet beared this spelling only.
I got admission in Uni and enjoyed the life there not until that day when a numerologist suggested my mom that I should drop an extra A in the end of my surname to get good grades in exams!!!!!!! I had to give up vainly in front of my mom’s logic as she was already affected by the success of her other daughter -Ekta Kapoor by then (she loved her serials till infinity). So in Uni I was christened as Mehak Srivastav.
Time moved yet again and I was happy somewhere knowing this is the end now. But no - I had to get my passport made and submit my credentials with it. The rude lady in the passport office told me my spelling is wrong- it should be MAHAK SRIVASTAVA as this is what was on grade 10 credentials and Passport authority take that certificate as valid birth certificate. I screamed out loud when I came out of there and gave Papa a quick call and told him how his simple silly spelling mistake is bugging me. I was pissed off completely and kept gritting my teeth whilst I filled second form. Time passed and I got my passport - it bore my name- MAHAK SRIVASTAVA and I showed the passport to Papa’s photo on the mantle and told him that this name is now gonna be symbolic and I drew parallels with Gogol in The Namesake. I wasn’t upset with him that day because I knew somewhere it meant something deeply. Mom consulted that numerologist once again as I was about to get married and she was quite disturbed with the Mehak and Mahak spelling. The numerologist quickly did the calculations and told her that the combination of Mahak Dewan is too good for my future husband and its gonna bring him luck but Mehak Dewan is not a good combination for him. So finally I was christened yet again as Mahak Dewan!

  People here in NZ find it so difficult to pronounce -when I tell them the actual phonetics for my name they get so confused. I don’t care what they call me- Meehaak, Mawhawk, Meehawk or whatever -its not their fault.My name is unique and I have so many stories attached with it…

I am now ending this with a quote I wrote in 2002-

Main to Mehak hu fizaaon mein bikhar jaungi,
Saans zara bhee loge to dil mein bas jaungi.

Aamir - a rare gem

Blogosphere has been mushrooming with reviews on Sarkar Raj. These days bloggers are giving their verdict on Jaane Tu Ya Jaane Na/Thoda Pyaar thoda Magic/Love Story 2050.

I was earlier regular at posting my reviews on latest movies I saw. But I discontinued it to reasons unknown to me too….but this movie- this rare gem made me write a dedicated post..

Aamir is a tight thriller about a muslim guy Aamir who is welcomed by strangers thrusting a mobile phone in his hand at the airport. His life shifts onto the top gear and his medical profession takes a backseat in order to save his family. He is brainwashed to become a real Musallman. Aamir was released on 6th of June alongwith Sarkar Raj. The producers took a big gamble considering the fact that this movie doesn’t boasts of a start studded caste. The film’s crew, caste, director(Raj Kumar Gupta)-all are debutantes. It takes a lot of courage to compete against the stalwarts of cinema- the BACHCHANS.

A must watch

I saw Sarkar Raj first and then Aamir. As much as I was disappointed with Sarkar Raj I was shaken by Aamir- so much so the movie gave me goosebumps and I had eaten half my nails by the climax. The movie explores so much..the scenes are actual shots taken in Mumbai street and the characters in the background are real people with real emotions. The plethora of emotions showed by Rajeev Khandelwal almost shocked me. I am aware of his acting prowess but this movie is like a jewel in his crown. The background score is in sync with the movie and so is the cinematography. The movie doesn’t looses at grips anywhere. Though I have read few critics sying - that no reason has been given by the script as to why Aamir was the chosen one. I feel there was no need howsoever to show a reason. The movie openly explores the spirit of being a sacha musalman. Why for the sake of religion the whole community is labelled as traitor? Why do we not call Shahrukh Khan or Aamir Khan or Salman Khan or Irfan Pathan a musalmaan every time we see them on screen. Why do we love the bhajans written by Javed Akhtar and give him National award for penning Pal Pal hai bhari from Swades? I know people who are still not comfortable with sharing the same table with a muslim. This same issue was shown in the only good story RICE PLATE in Dus Kahaniyaan. Aamit tell us that we can make our own destiny….but it can get ruined too in the name of a concept that doesn’t occurs to us- RELIGION. Aamir Ali studies hard and gets scholarship and goes to London. He is a victim like many of us who haven’t got admission in management/engineering/medical thanks to the reservation system and yet fought and emerged successfully as a good doctor(will tell you about my story later……)

The movie doesn’t lets your mind boggle with these ethical or religious questions while watching..but it leaves you with a big question when it ends. Aamir becomes Aamir in the end - the chosen leader…he shows he is a follower of islam and follows his heart. I wouldn’t say it’s a thriller-because cheap churn outs like Woodstock Villa are also labelled as thriller. Aamir is a beauty- a dark beauty that makes you sit and realize the real power Cinema beacons. Its a coincidence that the movie is namesake of another actor who has realized this power and canvassed it in form of another gem- Taare Zameen Par. The songs are nice- specially ha Raham (Mehfuz) -its too good..I can listen to it back to back.

Somewhere I am at fault for not writing this earlier and not doing my bit of mouth publicity. I take full responsibility and apologize for my behavior and hereby ask my readers to take one and a half hour of their life and see this master piece.

I am proud of Aamir’s team. And kudoz to them for having the courage to launch it…….and kudoz to Rajeev for not having a Yash Chopra like romantic film as his debut platform. You’ve got guts dude…..all the best.

Filmy dost

His inquisition was similar to mine to notice Hrithik’s sixth pinky finger when Kaho Naa Pyar hai was released. More or less I was always satisfied to spot it while watching him challenge the human mucular system in Ek Pal ka jeena. Even before I could really calm his anxious nerves down he had already started stammering at a pace tht poor Shahrukh would feel embarass. The words came out with same monotonic frequencies combined with the usual banal use of head movements. I was just glad it was not complimented with the yelling and shrieking of Kareena with loud words bubbling out with no awareness of around. I asked him to relax and gave him a glass of water. He got little relax and muttered something that only Amitabh Bachchan could understand and decipher. His sounds oozed out of his lips which gave Abhishek a second runnerup trophy for ‘Fattest Lips contest’. I wanted to runout of the situation faster than Akshay Kumar ever ran in his annual relay race of ‘comedy of errors’. Though I couldn’t run out as I was as faithful to the relation as Himesh to his claim of ‘no nasal singing’. My headaches were growing at a pace higher than the rate at which body of Amrita Rao/ Ayesha Takia/ Hansika Motwani/Celina Jaitely grew. I wanted to escape but was stopped by his whimpering state borrowed by after effects of watching Salman attempt comedy. Few more minutes had passed digesting his usual state of repetitive act a la Shiney Ahuja/ Emraan Hashmi. He mellowed down and the next moment came out with an irritating act like Rani’s obsession of trull roles or Preity’s obsession with excessive hard exterior and marshmallow interior looks. The mannerism was fully desi but ashamed to adorn it publicly on the lines of typical Saif or Fardeen. The eyes were droopy with sagging eye bags with space larger than Sanju baba. The hair was rumpled but in a slightly better condition than alfa alfa on Vivek oops Viveik Oberoi’s head. The talks were not even welcomed in my left ear much to the delight of right ear which filtered talks of likes of Uday Chopra/ Zayed Khan/Arbaaz Khan/Aftab Shivdasani/Sohail Khan/Arjun Rampal. The talks were gladly ignored and now sounded as a background score but obviously better than Sunil oops Suneil Shetty’s or Bobby Deol’s baritone. His body frame was shivering and reminded me of all the effects wind had on Shahid Kapoor. The heart was giving refusal to believe he was growing old much to the delight of Anil Kapoor. He wanted me to hang around him but I am no Arshad Warsi/Tushar Kapoor. His eyes were intense but had not yet convinced me as they weren’t as intense as Aamir’s or Ajay Devgan’s. The facial expression were stuck and reminded me of a certain John Abraham or his best friend Dino Morea. His history with me was long forgotten as likes of Chandrachur Singh/Esha Deol/Tanishaa/Amisha. I loved him, criticized him, danced with him, fought with him. He was my friday man. If my mood was good I’d treat him a box office success or else I’d tear him apart doing his critical analysis. He was and he will always be my filmy dost.

My silly naive mistake

Our engagement- the day we were blessed

Orkut gave me a good surprise in 2006.

I was lonely and confused and you gave me my answers

…I was scared of my decisions and the future untold

You held my hand and showed me the path

…I didn’t knew love and the magic it had

You touched me and I felt the miracles conspiring in my universe

…You gave me your shoulder when one shoulder left

You ensured the departed shoulder yours would be always there

….You made my wordings and wishes true

You did everything I imagined

…..You came with me and took a step forward

You took me to land unknown

……You gave me a house

You gave me new identity

………….You gave me security

You gave me care, comfort and generosity

..You forgave my mistakes….You understood me….and trusted me

You took my tears and replaced it with smile,

You held my hands and gave me your warmth…………………………………..

On the night we wed- we took vows

The vows reassured me I was safe and secure

I will be happy and I will be sound

The grey skies will clear and sun will shine

Love will conquer and fear will depart

Memories will be treasured and joys cherished

I will always be proud of you and smiling ……

On the simple mistake I made in 2006

How beautiful it has grown

How charming it has become

How comforting it has turned

My silly naive mistake of saying -

‘Let’s give it a shot’

My silly naive silliness of saying yes

Without meeting you

Without knowing you

The risk has paid off

I know you now completely

Somewhere out there he too is smiling behind the clouds….

He says thanks to you for taking care of his little Princess…

THANK YOU

6 words got me back from hibernation

Vishesh tagged me on 6 word one ages ago….but sorry Vishesh I was genuinely busy….had my company’s ball,then we hadda 4 day celebrations for my dearest hubby’s birthday on the 3rd….we took a trip to Skiing field but couldn’t ski as it snowed a lot…..but nevertheless my friends buried me alive in the thick snow….and then I did the daring act of Black Water rafting ….I swear if I had the slightest clue about what was in store in the 60 ft deep cave underneath I’d have not even dreamt about it. I got drowned twice….lost my lenses and hence my vision but saw the glow worms glittering in total random darkness…it was an experience of a life time…I was glad having my life partner behind me holding me and taking care of me in that situation…I was blind, cold and numb…….his cold hands gave me a uniquely wonderful warmth all while…I love you angel- Thanks for being there as ALWAYS…..I love you the most!!

Buried alive...

Well back to Vishesh’s…all I have to do for this one is write 6 words! And it has taken foreverrrrrrr..

Here I am summed up in 6 words..6 being my lucky number..

1. Gullible
2. Giggles
3. Gentle
4. Creative
5. Moody
6. ?

I leave the 6th one for all who by pass this blog or know me….give me the last one………

I pass this one to Abhinav and Abhimanyu…..will miss you once you guys are gone…hope you get an offer soon..

All the best…..

PS. I am now active again..back from hibernation mode…gonna reply to pending comments, and pending blogs written by fellow bloggers…

Thanks Abhimanyu for the wonderful post on the trip’s memories….have added its link here….

Brand Factory- who me?? Kiddin’ me?

Well Nikhil tagged me on this one ages ago but as I was battling with my own inner thoughts this got delayed and today I thought about finishing this one to be cheerful enough for the evening- we have my firm’s 90 years of celebration Mid Winter Ball at the Sky City Grand Hotel! The dress code is elegant wear with twist of 1920s and I am donning myself in a designer hatler neck Rosewood Gown and chandalier earrings-quite perplexed!

The idea is simple. Take any day in your life and chart out all the brands you have used. I am a brand conscious person and I am not!- Confused-you bet…I believe in buying branded things which are vital like-my eyewear or jeans or shoes but for small things like tops and jewellery I am not so much conscious as I can buy stuff straight outof flea market….

Here it goes..

MORNING

Glister Toothpaaste, Body Shop, Palmolive Naturals, Bausch and Lomb- I can’t see anything without them…, Carlton London, Titan, Gilli, Elizabeth Arden, Chambor, Wrangler, Narcisso Rodriguez and Lancome…yes am a cosmetic and fragrances freak and Naricsso is my favorite smell to wear! Its divine!

AFTERNOON BANGING HEAD AT WORK

Xs Energy Drink-yes with the amount of work piling up these days…..I need it, Subway and Starbucks for lunch, Dell and iPOD- if I don’t plug in my music I’ll sleep on the keyboard for sure…..3M and Office Max supplies keep me organized with frequent calls on my Nokia phone from my hubby…

EVENING SESSION- Reunion of love strucks

Evenings are electornically dominated- with both of us checking emails, making long calls to India, me cooking, watching movies on our 50 inch plasma which I am quite proud of ! Blogging is a must……and then catching up with crazy pals on gtalk/Facebook and Orkut by throwing interesting status messages everyday!!!! Syncing my iPOD in the background~~~hubby coaxing me to eat nutriway pills and then hiting the sack!! Prepare for another day, another gruelling session with techical documents, ramblings of mind with vocabulary and vainly rejecting drawings in name of Quality Control!

Signing Off ~**~

Ok folks am off to plaster my face with some good face masks I got and also apply a wicked deep berry nailpaint -its pampering day-wish me luck- I wanna dazzle tonight at the ball……..watch out this space for my experience there…..and yes we are planning a skiing trip next week and then South Island trip in August so please pray that no one jinxes a much needed holiday I need for my depressed sagging spirits…………

And before I forget- I pass this tag to Abhinav which is gonna be his first tag post ever -I am giving the nasty soul some work to do apart from sending me annoying mails round the day and labelling me Neera ki choti behen- I am not :(  You’re BP!

I love you

Eyes are burning a bit and I am having trouble breathing. Has it ever happened to you- that you are so much possessed by someone’s thought that it chokes you. I remember one session from my personality development class when a girl started crying after reading an article that talked about her father and how she missed him. I went to her and hugged her tightly and told her to cry as much as she wanted….the other students were grim too and asked to dissolve the class. And I did so wondering about her. I also remember my friend from Uni who folded his hands and said thanks to all after his rasampagdi at his dad’s memorial. I cried a lot that day after we came out. I just couldn’t believe what all he must have been going through at such young age! I feared being in their position.

I somehow bitterly remember the day before holi when I was eating my dinner and they were sitting on the bed. I told them that they will have to come and stay with me in New Zealand and how awkwardly he said - he won’t be there when that time would come. I shrieked out and told him to stop. The thought was scary and made me believe that before anything like that could happen I’ll be dead. Isn’t it mysterious how we think at the thought of losing someone we love so much..and..how carelessly we take it for granted that we won’t be able to live without them…and then one day a strong force takes them away and we still continue to live and most important- laugh, smile and see faded face of them!

I sometimes feel as the poorest person on the earth. I sometimes feel jealous of those who get to see their loved ones see their success. I don’t have him to see my success -forget that he wasn’t there to bid me farewell at the day which I feared that I may hug him forever and won’t leave at all..no matter the groom and his family kept waiting. He wasn’t there to select my wedding trousseau or give me tips about colors inspite of helping me out buying every single birthday outfit. He wasn’t there when I left the country knowing nothing. I feel jealous….I curse few people….I want to see them facing bad times- may be get paralysed for life……or lose out their loved ones….I feel like yelling out swear words till my lungs protrude…the same set of people who contributed in killing him silently….the same set of people who mock someone’s mourning…….May god their bodies rot in hell and be infested by millions of scavengers chewing every bit of their flesh and suck their blood!

I also have my own share of hurting him…but I am glad he was happy with the decisions and choices I made in his last days….he was proud! I miss him every time I think about having a baby…I feel jealous of all other kids and nephews and nieces he had taken in his lap and played silly games. I feel pity for my own kids who won’t be able to meet such a great person. I feel sick of myself for not being able to do anything..

Above all I feel hatred…I hate him severely..I hate him for not listening to me..not waiting for me till morning and leaving without saying bye…I hate him for not loving me so much to stay to see me happy and successful….I would always hate him for leaving…….I would almost hate him for making my mom a depressing soul….I would always hate him for making me feel vulnerable…I would always hate him for loving him endlessly and madly.

I have been avoiding the relevance of today in fear of losing self control and level of sanity I have attained finally after a year……I have been listening to songs and keeping myself insanely busy at workplace to avoid any thoughts of him…….I did wish him this morning but one look in his innocent eyes- made me feel bad!! It made me utter not a single word more than -HAPPY BIRTHDAY……and with misty eyes I picked up my coat and left home. Evening was equally worse….Papa called up and talked about him a bit and I got the same choky feeling and I simply passed on the phone and started making halwa thinking how happy he was when I first time cooked something -he got me a chocolate as a gift! I prayed and did the aarti- and kept thinking about his cherubic face and smile and how he always sang with me while snapping his fingers……….(chutki) I couldn’t see anything after that….same thing happened in temple…I kept seeing his happy face…the more happy his face seemed the more sad I became. I kept looking at the idol of Hanuman ji and kept thinking how he didn’t take care of him when he needed the most- how he cheated his devotee.

I miss him every second…..I listen to his favorite songs….do the things he liked….I am continuing writing and poetry for he gave me my first pink book to jot down the poems I wrote at the tender age of 4.

I miss you…..

Suhaani Raat dhal chuki, Na jaane tum kab aaoge,

Jahaan ki rut badal chuki, Na jaane tum kab aaoge!

I miss him calling me and asking me -Ghar kab aa rahi ho? I still get this line on phone when mom makes call from your mobile! I miss you-please come just once….I beg you just once-just once…..I need to touch you…………hug you….and tell you- YOU’RE THE BEST PERSON I HAVE EVER MET OR POSSIBLE EVER MEET IN MY LONG SAD LIFE….

Take me where you’re when ever you feel alone- I’ll be there…just waiting for your nod! I love you deeply!

Service value and consumer awareness

It was in class IXth Social Studies text book where I first read the existence of Consumer Protection Act, 1986. It made me feel powerful and vigilant about rights I held against every chocolate or pack of Lays I bought. I was so moved in those days that I even felt like complaining about the way the normal pack of Lays chips is filled with bare minimum chips.

I had so many experiences regarding Consumer rights that it provoked me to write a dedicated post for it.

My dad had several credit cards- American Express (Amex) being one of them. Amex people once sent us a mail that if we shop for more than Rs.50,000 within a specified period we will get a Gilli Pendant. We had already crossed that limit as we were busy shopping for my brother’s wedding. Three months passed on and I told Dad we have full rights to have information why hasn’t it been given to us yet. Dad called up Amex people and the helpdesk girl told us that the Gilli pendants are now out of stock and she can’t provide us with one. I mean shouldn’t they have calculated who all deserve to get it and proactively got pendants in store!!! Anyways, that call ended with me having a long face. Well now the real trauma began when one fine day our telephone went in graveyard and I was cut off from juicy gossips from my friends. The boring voice on the handset said the line was disconnected due to non payment of bill. We were quite stumped as all our utilities bills were automatically debited from Amex card. Again a call was made to Amex which started with various options being clicked through the mobile phone as per the automated voice’s orders. The Amex people told us sorry and promised to make the payments ASAP. Well ASAP meant two weeks and my dad lost all control and cancelled his Amex card and returned his torn card back to them. After a month we got a new statement quoting the pending annual charges- for what I don’t know. I wrote them a furious letter and warned to sue them for malpractices. Thank god afterwards they stopped harassing us.

March 2007 was pretty bad timing for us. I was entering into the new world out of dad’s nest and had to understand all the financial details and at the same time take care of my mum’s and my sanity when one sad afternoon a guy from ANZ Bank came to our doorstop and spoke to my mom quite brashly to return the bank’s pending amount and asked several times for Mr. Srivastava. My mom talked to him nicely and told him to have a seat and called me. I asked him about his identification card or credential which he had none. He told me we hadn’t paid last month’s payment and therefore he is there to collect and here I can tell he was speaking not in a good way! (if you know what I mean). I showed him copy of a letter I had sent to them two weeks back which clearly indicated that we will be closing the bank account as soon as we get the details of what all is outstanding as all bank papers were freezed in Dad’s lockers and we never knew the exact figure. My mom had tears in her eyes and she pitied her helplessness. I took half a look at her and half a look at my Dad’s photo on the chest and told that weird guy to call his manager and let me speak to him. God knows what all went through me at that call- I am a soft spoken person but that time I just scolded the manager and gave him a good one. I asked him how he dare send some stranger to my house knowing what emotional crisis we were going through. I told the manager to apologise to my mom who was harassed by the behaviour. He apologized to us and promised us he will support me in closing the bank account. I closed it within 3 days and paid the full and final amount.

Anyways that depressing time moved on and I came in Auckland. Being a veggie its quite tough to find choices dining out. It was a dull Friday evening and I wasn’t feeling like cooking so we decided to have a Domino’s pizza. We called the 0800 helpline and placed our order and went to the busy city street outlet to pick up. I stayed in the car as we couldn’t find a valid parking. Anyways to cut the long story short- we got two wrong pizzas from crazy Indian people who ran the outlet. They were very rude to us and didn’t replace our pizzas and told us we are now barred from ordering pizzas and gave us our dollars back!!! We were so angry-I could have almost slapped him hard across the face considering the fact I understood what he spoke in foul hindi to his colleagues in kitchen. I wrote to Domino’s and got an apology letter from them and also coupons for free pizzas.Click below to see their apology.

Domino\’s Apology letter

Incidentally few weeks back girl/boy/don’t know who- created a fake profile on Orkut and had my picture as main display pic and even in the albums. I don’t know who it was but a good friend of mine informed me about the profile id and I lodged a complaint with Google and had to even send them a copy of my passport to support my credentials- Two weeks afterwards the profile was deleted!

It is very important to voice out if services are not served in righteous manner. Trust me an accountable and ethical company will always love to listen negative points for enhancing their scope of improvement. If you go to café and don’t find coffee to your taste buds-tell them. If you don’t like the chips/cookies/ice cream you tasted- write to them…..but take action……we are paying for the service/goods and have full right on every dime spent on it. Especially when it involves Banks-voice your opinion-cry out loud for your rights……..the bank is always rich..and it makes us poorer…we have to speak and tell them we are the ones who are running their business.

You can click here to read about Complain filing procedure in a forum.

No Room for Broom

Spring cleaning reminds me of my favorite festival- Diwali. My mom pestered me to clean my stuff and room otherwise I knew there would be no festival money from my parents. Innocent baby me did all the cleaning every year. Summer nights in Delhi meant taking a walk after dinner and licking Fruity Lick Lollies (No PUN intended seriously). My dad was always careful to see where I threw the wrapper in the end. It always went inside Bhola Uncle’s cane basket next to his Ice cream cart. It therefore became my habit to always ensure to dispose the wrappers in dustbin. There were many instances when I couldn’t find a bin so I always kept the wrapper in my bag or Blazer’s pocket and threw it when ever I saw a bin.

Indians have traditionally been cleanliness and hygiene freaks-probably that can justify the concept behind Diwali’s Spring Cleaning fervour or the glary warnings from Grandmas not to wear shoes in kitchens. It was a tradition in many households to broom the house twice- once in morning and then yet again in evenings. Heights to it is the concept of mopping the floor with a wet cloth with bare hands. It was the duty of the maid to do it every day without fail. Before you settle in your mind that this post relates to mopping/brooming(not your fault the title and so far my writing suggests this only) I need to clarify (cleaning bug stings me here again with my lingo) that this is about India’s status as not so clean country in world scenario. The first thing one gets to see after getting off the airplane or train is FILTH. Why are our roads covered with wrappers, bottles, cow dung or even human dung????? Why our homes are sparkly clean but not our roads that lead to our homes? Why do little children do not care before throwing their Mc Donalds wrappers and Coke cans out of their moving cars on main roads -which is dangerous also considering it might hurt the traffic at the back.

I remember one summer break when two of my very irritating cousins came to stay with us. Dad and mom tagged the morons with me for the night walk and not much to my delight got ice creams for them. They opened it, slurped it like hungry cats and vainly threw the wrappers on the road and not in cane basket which was right next to them. I was so so so annoyed that I asked both of them to pick the wrappers from the road and then throw it in basket. They declined yet again proving their feline nature. I lectured them for next 15 minutes while my parents talked to some other couple nearby. They were just not understanding the concept behind throwing it in the bin. The elder of the two who was in grade 9th then simply told me the MCD sweeper will clean it in the morning. I was shocked to hear it and knew there was no point in filtering some wisdom through the holes in their minds as they were as small as salt and pepper shaker’s holes. I picked them up and threw in the bin. What the wrappers not the cousins!!!

I have always loved going to India gate and sitting next to the lake and enjoy yet again Ice cream. Families come to India gate to have a nice picnic brunch and share a jolly good time. Wow what a time for family bonding! But hey what about the mess they leave on the grass. Forget the grass-they dump the plastic bottles in the lake there. And how can I forget mentioning the chewing gums in public transport or toilets. Ewwwww the toilets are the worst- the much avoided trip to the public toilet is like a battle the little twitchy nose has to bear and defend itself against the poisonous potions served by the apocalyptic Nebraskians. It is indeed not the nebraskians fault because there was no concept of toilets or flushing in their era! Sorry dear……

Has any one seen the sad state of Dal Lake in Kashmir- its an open garbage. Has anyone seen the Taj Mahal’s dirty city locales in Agra? Has anyone seen any any historical monument or temples of Varanasi or Haridwar or Rishikesh clean? Taking a dip near the Ganges is a dirty business- you can see people washing their clothes, rinsing their mouths, women potty training their kids and washing their bums- all in the holy water of Ganges. Here I would like to add that the mosques and gurudwaras and churches are still way cleaner. People enjoy mangoes and bananas and leave the skins for the holy cow maata to chew. The cow maata then blesses us with cakes of her dung right in the middle of the road.

Technically and practically it is quite difficult to clean a country as big as India. But even if a tiny step is taken wouldn’t it be a tiny step less for someone to do cleaing of our own waste? Even if we see someone throwing a wrapper on the road a friendly reminder to tell them to throw in the dust bin may help in the long run. I know few people have thick hide (a la my moronic cousins) but still the thought will get in their mind next time whenever they will throw something on the road. We can actually give a really frowning disapproving look to people who spit on the road or enjoyingly paint the sanguine of their lovely Paans drawing a graffiti on the walls? I feel the smallest of the efforts can only help in India and not some big campaigns like- ‘Clean Delhi Healthy Delhi’ or some others. Such campaigns are like little pictures which flash for few seconds across our brains. But a small lecture or a disapproving frown will effect the iotic brains of the whole filthy nebraskians to behave and realize their presence in the current century. Its important to remind everybody that its not only our house that needs brooming-its our roads, our surroundings and not to forget EVEN OUR BRAINS!

Hey but we need Dr Dolittle to explain the sense to this mighty vain cow! Eh

What is ethic to you, me or them?

I remember vividly the subject Business Ethics we had in third semester and how proudly our course director announced- this is a relatively new subject and not even IIM-Ahmedabad has teachers or relevant books for it. I passed the discipline with a GPA of 9 courtesy all the search I did on internet to read theories related to ethical decision making. But even standing at that surprising GPA I bear no capability to define Ethics per se.

I read Indian news stories daily, I see global news daily, I use endorsed brand daily, I make an environmental related decision daily- and they are all related to ethics. My wordweb dictionary defines ethics as ‘A system of principles governing morality and acceptable conduct’. But who is to explain the context of acceptable. It’s a fancy word some philosopher used to veil his inability to measure anything that is pure right or wrong- anything that is pure black or white. It’s just a picayune excuse some genius picked up to write heaps of circumlocutious non meaning theories to hide the evil sides- the grey sides.

The topic of this post is -What is ethic: to you, me or them? When I see a poor kid in CRY print advertisement I resolve to adopt a child but never do it in reality…but when I do see a kid enjoying Baskin Robbins ice cream I nag my partner to go to parlour and take one bite. Am I ethical?

When I see my fellow friends being conscious and aware enough to dedicate a post on youth Unite about Bhookh and add a badge on their WordPress blogs…I aimlessly click on the feedthemouthxxxxxerrttsomethingsomething.com site in hope to feed the hungry……but when I don’t like the taste of a dish I vainly leave the whole dish go in trash cans with a certain arrogance. Am I ethical?

I see a movie daily- that’s my routine and a way to rewind after sitting in the comforts of my workstation and sipping endless mochachinno’s and tapping laptop glaring into the matte finished screen. I see the imaginative world of songs and dance routine- criticize them and then compare with better quality English movies safely ignorant of the situations in Somalia/Myanmar/China/India. Am I ethical?

I read about rising rates of rapes and take out my angst onto wordpress by writing a post. I read about deplorable conditions of elderly and take out my angst onto wordpress by writing another post. I read about Aarushi and her ill fated media tryst and take out my angst onto wordpress by writing yet another post. I sit conveniently in the calm comforts of my electrically heated bed and write about people I can’t help. I talk about rapes- but have I researched what’s actually happening to women in Gulf countries or Asia? I talk about elderly not doing a thing for my own mother who is alone in India. I talk about Aarushi and let some perverse people find a way to write their even more perverse ideas about horrible things and do not even attempt to moderate them in honor of Freedom of Expression. Am I ethical?

I see a larger than life Shahrukh talk superfluously claiming that how his son was upset when he couldn’t see a match and how he bought a whole cricket team for him to relish! Now you people – who treat him ahead of god can be kind enough to tell me a single just a meagre quote from this man about his daughter? Wait he has a daughter- oh yes he does…But does he ever talks about her? No…never. Way to go King Khan our Indian hero- you’re perfect ambassador to support Female Foeticide cases in Harayana or Punjab. Wait a minute- but you need to charge a crore for that..no you can’t do that..but shell out a few crores more and you can prance around in your underwear in a glitzy Page 3 private party. So why don’t we leave the ambassadorship of Polios and Female Foeticide to Aamir Khan and Mr. Bachchan and then malign them by blog-wars? Or why not smoke a cigarette in public and set an example to youngsters to take light (pun intended) and forget that others exist. So back to square one- Is he ethical?

A team in Olympics works hard and manages to win a bronze medal and we get to read about it in the sports section right under the major write up on Irfan Pathan’s love life all revealed on Orkut. A Police Officer stresses that Shruti was found in OBJECTIONABLE state totally unaware of even the poor girl’s name and dares to speaks this in front of hungry carnivorous reporters. An actor takes a cool cheque for two crores to endorse a cola brand and a physically challenged Pullela Gopichand declines few thousands to endorse a cola brand saying it’s not good for children’s health. The actor gains publicity and is seen on billboards and Pullela is lost in his own loop of same picayune excuse- Ethics. Is the actor/Police Officer/Reporter/Media ethical?

You take it from here my friend. Congratulations for coming so far till the end for this is a heavy dose post not a page 3 gossip or some perverse tips giving post. You must have felt something too or had a connection with my inner callings….still you will head straight out of this browser window and open Orkut/Facebook/MySpace/Gtalk/Yahoo/MSN/Skype and talk repeatedly- ‘Sup? Aur Batao? What’s new ‘; without even bothering to let your inner calling grow and make you aware or even write a line about it here assuring me I am not insane to write this. Here my friend the question is – ‘Are you Ethical?’ Think about it and if you know the answer then for my sanity’s sake drop a line or two.

Thanks!

Sabbatical

Hi Readers,

For the past few weeks I have been contemplating the idea of deleting my blog. I have no specific reasons as such but there’s a feeling that has been calling me and telling me to do the same. And I can also afford to do so as I don’t have many dedicated readers as such who are regulars. As I know its a serious decision I have decided to give more time to it and have decided to take a sabbatical from wordpress.

I repeat I don’t have any valid reason to support my crazy insinuation but …………its my crazy inner calling and I am gonna respect it.

I thank all the readers who have read the blog so far and enjoyed reading my flirted thoughts…….they have been encouraging and supportive on many issues I feel deeply about. I don’t know when I will be back and with what decision…so..till then…..

‘Keep your mind flirting with thoughts coz mine is going on a very long break‘.

Am off to bungy out of WordPress…here I go

Take care…

So long,

fruity

My bowl of Maggie is mine..not yours

My love story with Maggie began as a perky 4 year old and still continues to grow. Maggie was my favorite evening snack which mom made in order to entice me to gulp down the yuckiest warm mug of Bournvita milk. I always devoured the lovely bowl of milk slurping the golden threads of pure delight with little tastemaker by moving my mighty silver fork round and round and round. Mom always added half pack of tastemaker or else it was too spicy for me. The other half of the tastemaker was added in a glass bottle with pink cap on it. The tastemaker was sprinkled on the golden toasts with dollops of melted butter on top.

I was so so thankful to all the gods up above for my elder brother never liked Maggie which was a blessing in disguise as he had a strange unwritten wicked rule. The rule was if his share was finished and I was still struggling with mine- he would trespass on my share! Ah poor little me. He had an appetite of an elephant and would devour bowls after bowls and then eyeing my meager share. But Maggie was not a problem. Still I’d always ensure to get the bowl with the larger quantities if in case I had a suspected refugee on my share of Maggie supply. Sometimes the refugees were my cousins who paid a visit in the summer hols or the irritating friends who tagged along after playing silly games in the park. Sharing was such a pain for me. My heart felt pain when mom separated the lovely threads into two separate bowls- I felt the same pain what Gandhiji must have felt at the time of partition. My beloved share was going into a foreigner’s hand and I had to behave myself and control my anger from digging my little little nails into the rival’s cheeks. I was so upset with the Nestle guys when they came up with the sweeter version of thick slimy brown Maggie and how I felt doomsday was there when I first tasted it.

Time passed and I attained a level of maturity wherein I knew I could cook two separate packs for myself and not share it with some refugee. High school days meant school- tuitions-tuitions-homework and beeeeepppppppppp of alarm for the next day at school. The evenings meant having bowl of Maggie after coming from the treacherous time at tuitions. Dad used to buy bulk lot of it and mom stored it safely in a silver long container ensuring I had my daily share or else my mood would play a melancholy strain on my otherwise cherubic face and dad would never appreciate it. My board exams meant longer hours of cramming up the notorious chunks of syllabus with a deserved share of Maggie in the midnight. Nestle people still played with my emotions and came out with new recipe for Maggie with 2 cups of water and rubber tasting tastemaker which made me ensure that my sole purpose of a day’s survival was long lost. The Nestle people realized it pretty fast with the drop in sales (courtesy me who stopped buying it!!!!!!!!!)

I entered Uni and knew my tryst with it was not going it end but only stronger. We had 7 subjects in each semester and had exams four times every year. The monsoon session and winter session meant nail biting night session with FM playing in the back to console me the presence of other living souls on the planet while I fought my battles against Consumer Behaviorism and essence of managerial Economics. The FM was helpful till 2 am as back then we had just one FM channel. Thank god my romantic date with Maggie grew stronger in the second year of uni when private FM players entered the radio broadcasting and changed the whole outlook towards the neglected gadget called radio. The warm bowl of Maggie coming straight out of the pain relaxed me and ensured me there’s life beyond the concepts of Operational Research and Business Ethics.

Well the agonizing years at Uni came to an end and gave a friendly hug to the corporate world. Tryst with Maggie here was very weird. Boys found their way to beat stress from the strange world of software development by puffing rolls of papers at the terrace while I drowned my sorrows of stress in the steaming bowl of soupy Maggie. Once I devoured 4 packs of Maggie in a single day! (I still remember how I gulped down cold Maggie from the lunch container and how the long strings had taken the shape of the container………..).

When we were packing stuff before leaving for NZ, we got 8 packs of family pack of Maggie that has 8 noodles in it. (I wasn’t sure of finding Maggie’s masala flavor in NZ). The house was new and there were no groceries and Maggie came to my rescue. We devoured it every morning and then one sad day our dear Maggie ceased to exist in the cupboard. I was whimpering and knew my survival was going to be difficult. But where there is a will there is a way- I found my way in an Indian wholesale store.

Today I enjoyed my lovely dear Maggie with the special secret twist- a dollop of butter before shoveling it out in the bowl. Few people like it soupy, some like it as completely dry, some add vinegar, some add fried onions and capsicums and tomatoes (I do I do!!!). But Maggie has been a favorite of many of us. To me it’s good and best in any form. I love you Maggie!!! Please be mine forever.

Pranky Fruity

Well I was a very naughty kid still have traces left though I was famous for my pranks, new ideas of menacing neighbors and strangers.

I very vividly remember it was New Years Eve and we celebrated it at my Mamas (maternal uncle) new house. We were 4-5 cousins and had total blast by welcoming the New Year with dance and lots of fun. All the elders went to sleep after wishing us. All my cousins were in the same room. We tried our best to sleep but failed. My pranky mind was as its naughtiest best. I told my kid bro to go and fetch the cordless phone. KBC was a rage back then on Indian television and people tried calling its number all the time. I thought lets make use of this. We called up several people on random numbers. I talked to them in a perfectly faux voice of a telephone recorded female. I asked them- London is situated on the banks of which river? Such a simple question and I even gave them four options. My guinea pigs were all excited and felt proud on their luck in the New Year. They gave me answers and kept telling their relatives in a hush hush manner –yippie I am all set to be part of KBC!!! Lolz cheesy me!! I even ensured them flight tickets for two will soon arrive after asking them their addresses!

Then we got bored with the KBC trick. It must have been 4 am and I came up with a new one. Devil me

I called up my friends then…….who took up the call with sleepy tones. I just kept asking them in a ghostly voice –chai peeoge? (will you have tea?). O god I can’t find expressions to tell you the kind of response I got from them. They were like- what????. It was outrageously hilarious. Usually people are prepared for blank calls but then a strange voice asking them chai peeoge was heights. Lolz………wicked me.

We were three close friends in Uni and we even took our first job together. We were tired after working hard. We decided to take a break. And a break to us meant something sheepish!!

So we decided to call up few batch mates posing as website content provider asking them some details. We called two three people where I spoke on behalf of friendship.com(??????????????????????). There was this guy in our batch whom we use to tease a lot-specially me. He was our pet for teasing. Though he was and he is a nice guy..still in touch with him!!!!We use to call him Shmarty stressing too much on the Shhhhh part …..lolz…….hehehehehehehehehehe

I asked him all crappy questions like-does he miss his college days, how were his batch mates, what are they doing and all? In the end I asked him if he ever had a crush on someone in his college days? So he took a moment and replied yeah there was a girl in our batch-she use to tease me a lot but I use to like her a lot. Then lo behold he took my name. I was astonished and looked at my other friends who were giggling away to glory!

I was chagrined to every inner corner of mine and told him my name and my friends’. He was quite abashed too.

Till date I tease him about this and he jokingly says – I wonder why I never had the courage to say in college? Lolz….

After this I stopped playing my phone pranks-wondering how many secret admirers I reveal! Sounding vain-eh??????

I am

Parents killed daughter????

I have been following this case closely on the newspapers….and I have even visited the community dedicated to a vivacious 14 yr old girl.. And am shocked and my heart has shrunked to know her father killed her!

Am gonna add more here….just added randomly……..

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26-05-2008

Few more days have passed and I am regularly reading articles on this case. I was teary eyed when I read about Aarushi in her facebook group- RIP Aarushi. A girl who was about to celebrate her birthday on the 25th May in a plush pub in Noida. What intrigues me and that too in a negative way is the manner in which an innocent persona of a 14 year old girl is tarnished by the UP Police? Did they had any proof to support behind the murder motive that they have been advertising in media? Linking a smart mature 14 year old girl to her 45 year old domestic servant shouldn’t have been made public without any strong proof. I was so deeply anguished when I heard reports and comments about the phrase ‘objectionable’? What is the definition of objectionable? Even if a girl is found hugging anybody- a friend even then also she is straight away seen as of low character? What century are we living in? Its the same media, same moral police who bans people from celebrating V-day by vandalizing Archie Galleries? Its the same UP Police that takes money from young couples if they are found walking in hand in hand in parks?Tarnishing any female’s image is quickest way the police or the law has ever had. How can we forget Jessica Lal? But this case actually made me angry for its the question of honor of a very young girl. Reading about her profile and community details and observing an average 14 year old- I can say that this isn’t the case. Aarushi is a victim of upper middle class busy parents- who dotingly declare their love by pampering their kids by giving them laptops, iPODs and high tech mobiles but not enough time. She represents the cool cream of school life with different lingos and different mindset. Another important issue is the manner in which her classmate’s name has been openly published in newspapers. Did they ever care about the stress and rambling that poor kid must be going through right now (Statistics are showing that leading psychiatrists are getting calls from young children after this case )?

On what basis is the police claiming that the case has been cracked-when its current members weren’t even able to locate the old servant’s body on the same house’s terrace????? What kind of investigation team was there? A retired UP Police officer asked to open the terrace for investigation when few hours earlier the police had declared a paltry sum of Rs.20,000 for any information (should now be given to the retired officer ??????). Well how can the Talwars and the common public trust this police- the same guys behind the massacre in the Nithari? The Pandher guy is Scott free enjoying his foreign liquor with paid escort service and nibbling on human flesh somewhere out there? There are so so many loopholes yet to be cracked- did the father actually killed his daughter? If yes, why the mother is still supporting him? Did the father- mother actually conspired to kill their only child, if yes then why????????????????? How did the sotry of affair between the Talwar and Durrani brew up and it is not still a possibility?Where are the murder weapons? Why the police is still not able to trace the cell phones of both deceased? Why the police came out with a press conference without solid proofs? Why Aarushi’s friends name are given to the media?

There are so many whys and no answers. Poor Aarushi wouldn’t have imgined this kind of gift and label of being characterless at age 15 in her dreams. She has hope because few women organization have come up actively saying its wrong to tarnish her image without any iota of proof/truth.

I am so disturbed and anguished with the whole way this case is shaping up. The family and friends are not being even given time to mourn the demise of a young chirpy vivacious girl who is thank god no more to hear such atrocities about her now that she has gone.

May her soul finds peace and reborns somewhere where sanity still prevails!

Amen

Chapter of Life

 

Scene 1

A young 14 year old girl is hooked onto TV watching Shahrukh Khan selling almost everything on TV. Her cell beeps and she reads the SMS and laughs at the non veg joke (explicit content suppressed). She calls back the sender and chats for one hour repeatedly repeating the phrase- ‘aur batao’ (tell me more). The talk gets over after saying bye bye take care for umpteenth number of times and blowing kisses with the sound of Muuuaaahhhhh. The words angel, baby, honey, jaanu, sweetz dominate the whole call and sound like a refrain from a soft romantic ballad. The call finishes and the girl looks at the TV once again wherein SRK again is cheering his boys in the IPL arena of glamour cricket (where everything is a BRAND).

 

Scene 2

The young 14 year old girl goes to her room and slips into her Nike PJ and plugs onto her iPOD listening to High School Musical 2 OST and glares at the larger than life posters plastered on her wall. She opens her lappy logs onto Facebook and sends a cool new poster on Super wall to all her 209 friends in her network. She smiles at the new Superlatives given to her by her boyfriend. She sees him online at the moment on Gtalk with the rad status message –‘Nobody dies a virgin life f**** you in many ways’. She tells him the message is so cool and then again the repeated act of bye byes and take care begins now armed with emoticons.

 

Scene 3

The young 14 year old girl gets up in the morning picks her Pepe Jeans London bag and wears her Nike shoes and shoves up the Nokia N72 in the inside pocket of the bag and runs for the car. The chauffeur opens the door and she sits insides throwing her bag and grabbing the remote. She reaches school and kisses her friends and yells- ‘hey how you doin’, ‘wassup mate’.

 

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Scene 1

A young 14 year old girl is hooked onto cleaning the dining table hearing Sahrukh Khan (sic). She sings ‘Jaanam Dekh Lo mit gai duriyaa main yahaan hu……..yaha’. She hears a shrill voice from the other room and hears a faint voice to bring ice cream for her. She quickly leaves the table and prepares big bowl of ice cream and pours chocolate syrup at the top and resists the saliva on her tongue to grab a big spoonful of the delight in front of her misty eyes. She takes a bite from the melting drop from the rim of the bowl and closes her eyes for a second.

 

Scene 2

The young 14 year old girl goes to the kitchen and lies on the mattress and switches on the FM listening to new Himesh Rehammiya number and glares at the roof while imagining her in the song. She gets up and looks herself in the mirror. She looks at her long never ending braid and the weird curve in the end where her rubber band was tied. She opened it and moved her fingers through her hair and started singing ‘Jhooth Naiyo Bolna’. She smiles at her little jig and goes back to the mattress fully conscious of the fact that she had to get up early next morning to iron the uniform and make the breakfast.

 

Scene 3

The young 14 year old girl gets up at the shrill voice of the pretentious Mrs. Kapoor and runs to the kitchen. She switches on the swanky LG Cooking range and heads for the Nirlep non stick pan to cook breakfast. She runs for the car. The chauffeur opens the door and she gives the lunch box to the young 14 year old girl. She curses her and annoyingly takes it and starts fiddling with the remote control. The young 14 year old girl goes to the market to get groceries and meets her other likes. She smiles and yells- ‘Hello didi I am going to my gaon (village) for diwali ’.

 

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We could be either of the two girls- but we would always wish to be the former girl not the latter-but they are both happy and content. But-Life is not equal. It’s different for you, me and others. Some are blessed with more some are blessed with few.  Life is beautiful. It’s a one time encounter for you, me and others. Some live it to the fullest and some keep cursing and ruin the beauty of it. Life gives moments to smile, to cry, to laugh, to curse, to swear, to enjoy- what do we give back to the life? We know and meet several people who are in much sad situations than ours-still our life seems more complex. I have seen little boys in rural areas enjoying the dip in the rivulets sporting a big grin on their face and there sometimes I am cursing if there’s a power shortage in the summers. May be we need to learn how to live from them. I learnt a lesson from life and this is just a Chapter of Life. There may be many more, from all people who walk into my life and thoughts from all spheres of world.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chronicles of Chiropractor

As mentioned painfully in the last post I was tormented with agonising spinal pain. It was like a devil that danced around me swaying its poky tail and hitting me with it spines on my spine! The torture was upsurging with the pace that it reminded me of many No Balls Shoaib Akhtar throws incessantly and curses as if he has no clue of its mechanism. Worst of all this torture time was the banging I had in my head all the time. I felt like taking a big hammer and crush my cranium bang bang -bang bang just like some judge said ‘order order’ in a ghatiya (inferior) B- grade hindi low budget movie.

I had to force my jarring soul to prepare itself for a tiring a la Republic Day like rehearsal at office for a whole week. The torture wasn’t ameliorating with the heaps of documentation lying at my desk. I was not even able to lift a sheaf of paper. I relented to the trauma and asked for forgiveness but the devil was enjoying capturing my active body and was parasiting on my giggly prerogative. :(  The partner decided it was time to see a specialist. I knew he was right as my chirpiness was as dead as news that surrounded likes of daily dosage of ‘rapes’, ‘murders’, ‘kidnapping’, ‘extortion’ or very common ‘bomb blasts’.

Well atlast there I was- waiting for the elevator to take me to the magical kingdom of ‘City Chiropractor‘-a kingdom that has chronicles dedicated to mend chronic disorders! The elevator opened and I had no clue whether the kingdom held any potions to cure my diabolic twinge. The receptionist looked at me with a beaming smile that made me annoy and twitch my fingers deeper inside the palm fearing that my destiny might take an ambushed course, courtesy the scratchy hand lines. My fate was ruining at the threshold of her angelic constance. I followed erstwhile Gandhian turned modern Munnabhai effort to forgive her for I knew just like Jesus that she didn’t knew what she did to me. I waited for my charmer to appear and treat my chronics from knowledge learnt from high mountains of the Himalayas or deep jungles of Africa (interestingly not related to any of the two). The charmer appeared out of a white mystic door and smiled.