When Parents FAIL their Children all over again

Some parents I’ve noticed have this annoying habit. A habit they do not realize does more harm than good; a habit that discourages instead of bringing improvement; a habit that affects the psyche instead of the outlook; a habit that is akin to kicking someone who has fallen, laughing in their face, and then telling them how much you love them.

This is the habit of parents showing the whole world what spectacular and utter failures their children are by putting their shortfalls on full display before all to see and then inviting some more people to come and have a good laugh that’ll brighten up their day. This will then probably lead to an innocent either jumping from the terrace or hanging from the fan if they’re not strong enough to take the insult or smart enough to understand its purpose.

Let’s face it, there are such parents. And what’s worse, they are more in number than those parents who like to show the world that their children are the best in the whole wide world. Admittedly, that isn’t any good either, extremes rarely are, but at least it is talked about and ridiculed. However, the other end of the spectrum? It isn’t talked about in the way the adulation is spoken of. It is hardly ever criticized in society that is.

Image Courtesy: theodysseyonline.com

There is rarely one who is strong enough to stand up to the parents and ask them to stop the rigmarole because at that moment, the child is the one who has let the parents down, who has tarnished the family name, who has failed in class, who has lost the competition, who has bunked a class, ho didn’t get into a good college, who didn’t get that gold medal, who didn’t care about what parents wanted. The child is to blame fair and square.

But one would think that parents, before using this innovative method of insulting their children before family and friends, would stop for a moment and think about what this would achieve.

Does ridicule raise confidence?

Does insult dull the injury of failure?

Does shame induce self-confidence?

Does derision ensure better performance?

Does humiliation beget better results?

Does indignity tend to inspire?

These are the questions that these parents need to ask themselves before going out into that party and shaming their children before others because you never know how someone will react to such shaming.

Your children might not understand that you do it out of love or desperation or some other sort of correctional method. In that moment, they just know pain all over again.

For some, it is too late. For others, it is not.

Please find a better way.

I’ve been meaning to write about this topic for quite some time now and a friend fortunately brought it up on Facebook recently. She saw this happening on an Indian soap opera and spoke out against it which led me to ultimately writing this piece. If you do think the problem is real, share this post with either the student who is suffering from this, or with the parent who thinks ridicule only makes things better.

Santa Claus: The Salesman with Claws

Having emerged from the Christmas season, which is not yet over, a not-so changed man, I wonder how many actually did bring about a change in their lives in this year.

Well Christmas is indeed a time of cheer and goodwill among men but it is also the international standard for sales targets, advertising budget overruns, depleting savings and burning through piles of hard earned cash – all in the name of the Lord.

Image Courtesy: batman.wikia.com

Well, that’s at least what I’ve heard some of the clergy say this year what with the birthday boy, Jesus himself, disappearing out of the whole Christmas picture with every passing year. To put it into perspective, there seems to be a feeling that Jesus didn’t get invited to his own birthday party because somebody brought the cake, another brought the drinks, a third brought the food and the fourth brought the dessert and there was nobody left to inform the guy for whom they actually threw the party.

Sounds weird?

Some seem to be concerned that the commercialization of festivals has led Santa Claus to become an even bigger idol that Jesus today. And that should worry the leaders off the church if it doesn’t already. One has to admit, it is great for the propagation of religion but the essence as such keeps losing significance.

To kids today, Christmas seems to mean nothing other than the fact that their parents getting them gifts, for teenagers it’s all about the parties, for young adults it’s a day off of work and the others, some time to spend with the family.

This obviously doesn’t hold true for everyone but observation has led me to believe that the importance of Christmas has dwindled down to just the poster boy of a soft drinks company and means nothing more than just another holiday.

Image Courtesy: www.youthareawesome.com

It is just like what happens to other festivals celebrated here in India that I’ve written about in this post on Durga puja. But well, something needs to be done to drive sales and what better way than appealing  to peoples sentiments that inadvertently force them to show their love towards their family by having them make money for companies.

In the memorable words of Lord Cutler Bekett from Pirates of the Caribbean:

It’s just good business…

Image Courtesy: www.reddit.com

A very Merry Christmas to you and a Happy New Year!

Note: This post is not meant to be disrespectful to any religion, people or God/s. It is just my personal opinion on what I've observed in my vicinity. Any connection to people (living or dead) or Companies (and franchises) or Gods (and Goddesses) is merely coincidental and is not deliberately meant.

Change that Channel: Putting on Blinders or Protecting your Children?

Growing up in a household where Doordarshan was the only channel on television in classes X, XI and XII, I know how hard it is to be relegated to a monotonous voice saying something while you attempt to “make” something out of your life, “work hard now to reap fruits later” and “study hard, college is all about fun”.

Parents regularly attempt to contain their children’s consumption of television content by locking channels, unsubscribing to them, denying permission and deriding their choices if they watch channels they think are unsuitable or “not good” for them.

Putting on Blinders

Image Courtesy: goldenbuddhayoga.com

Now, is it not possible that the parents, by restricting access to content, are limiting their children’s exposure to the wider range of experiences available to the next generation? Are they not putting on blinders on their children? Are they not letting them see a partial worldview by limiting the content that they watch?

Apart from the news, there are many such topics which have a variety of opinions and each need to be viewed and heard to have a complete understanding of the same. By restricting half of the content, a partial message is conveyed and ideas that are developed then tend to move only in one direction. There is a certain lack of objectivity, and in some cases, radically and disastrously so.

Protection from Bad Influence

Image Courtesy: brainhulklogicsmash.blogspot.com

It is not always that parents restrict content to their children based n their own prejudices. It may also be so that they may actively attempt to curate television content in a way that only the best things come across. But this is also based own personal experiences and prejudice. Subjectivity would probably hamper the development process; however, that does not in any way lessen the importance of good intentions.

However, it must be noted that content on television is monitored and not a lot of content is actually there to subvert young minds. But, a check definitely needs to be kept. How? Now that is the real problem. Also, who can decide what is good and bad? Isn’t that too subject to personal prejudices?

The Million Dollar Question

How does one objectively curate content for children in such a way that it protects them from supposed bad influences while giving them an impartial worldview of all that television has to offer?

Do you have an answer or perhaps an opinion or observation you’d like to share? Well, let’s hear it.

Dad, I’m in a Live-in Relationship

That perhaps is one of the hardest letters to write to a conservative Indian parent.

Fears of loss, hatred, marginalization and pain accompany the decision to call a parent one knows is not going to accept their choice. Tremendous courage and hope for understanding and failing that, reconciliation is the only thing that can help mitigate the fear of telling this parent that one is staying with one’s partner outside of marriage.

Here is one such letter from a hopeful son to his father.

 Dad,

You must be surprised that I wrote you a letter but believe me, in this case, it was the only way I could sufficiently put down everything I want to tell you. The telephone, the tone of voice, the emotion; it all is too much of a distraction.

I’m in love with a magnificent woman named Anna and we’re in a live-in relationship. We have been so for a month now.

This must come as a shock to you as I haven’t said anything about her or us till now. But there is a reason for that. I don’t know if you’re angry or sad or disappointed in me but I must still shamefully ask you to trust in me.

I know that you and mom brought me up believing in the sacred bond of marriage and you must feel that you could have done something more, especially after this letter. Please don’t, it isn’t your fault, it is just my choice.

I love her and she loves me and we have done so for over three years now but mom only knows her as one of my friends. She turned out to be something much more and I see her as my partner for the rest of my life. Perhaps we shall also marry one day but that day isn’t today or tomorrow or at least in the next five years.That day might also never come.

It isn’t the fault of education or this big city or bad influence that has led me here, it is the realization of what is good for Anna and me and how we want to live our lives, at least for the moment, without societal shackles till we are absolutely sure than we can bear each other for a lifetime.

I ask not for forgiveness or acceptance, I ask only for your understanding of the choice that I have made and am about to in the future. I need you to have my back, Dad.

Your loving son,

Fred

Image Courtesy: nrigujarati.co.in

The Burden of Great Expectations

To be or not to be - that is the question I asked myself when faced with the prospect of studying law a few years back.

It was a tough question, one I could not take lightly. To study for another five years, to study something else or to start working immediately after my graduation, these were the A-B-C options I had. I took the second option. I decided to study journalism.

My choice was a disappointment for many and a surprising move for others. But I had made it nonetheless.

Now, after two years, at the cusp of my post graduation degree and after the submission of my thesis on ‘Conflict Reportage in Indian English Newspapers’ I am finally sure that I indeed made the right choice.

However, now that I’ll be going out into the real world, I realize that the expectations of all those people who supported me as well as those who were skeptical of my choice are entirely too much. Over time, people have come to expect great things from those who complete their ‘Masters’ degree and the case is the same here.

I’m expected to get selected into a large firm, get a respectable position and draw a salary that an HR would choke on before doling it out to a fresher. Great expectations!

Image Courtesy: wordsmith.com

Confidence in a person’s ability is great, but turning this person into Atlas by tossing him a world of expectations and saying, “Catch!” well that’s not cool. Time and experience is what takes someone to great heights and erecting an unreal pedestal before that helps nobody.

Hence, all you impertinent parents and teachers and friends and relatives, calm down.

It will happen… in Time.

The Visitation of a Lifetime

This was weird!

By any standard of archaic Indian culture and tradition, this was not only weird; it was in direct violation of how things should be.

I had carefully combed and again tousled my hair which made it about the fifth time I had done so in the past 15 minutes. Around six shirts lay in a heap on my bed and three pairs of trousers were strewn in a menagerie of disarray, creating a cloth road from the bathroom door to the kitchen where I gone to check up on the stuffed turkey in the oven and chocolate cheesecake in the fridge.

It had to be perfect; every aspect of it.

They were coming to see me, asses me, see if I was fit to be married into their family. And for that, I would have to work hard, very hard. You see, inter-religious marriage still isn’t a very big thing where I come from.

I had invited them over to dinner and they had accepted. My parents would not make it today, their flight delayed by incessant rains, but these people hadn’t cancelled. They wanted to see me what for I was, without having to make small talk with my parents.

I just hoped my apartment, my cooking skills, my education and most importantly, that I was up to their expectations. I wouldn’t want to disappoint my love.

I had prepared a slightly burnt vegetable starter, tomato soup, a stuffed turkey and a hopefully delicious cheesecake for dessert. Ping! The turkey was done. The taste was delectable. They will love it, I assure myself.

As I start folding the rest of my discarded clothes and arrange my truckload of novels neatly on the living room shelf, the doorbell rings. I panic, hastening my chores and shouting, “one minute” in the general direction of the doorway.

“Don’t bother, it’s just me. Open up,” I hear the voice of the one who makes my heart flutter and skip a beat. “Coming,” I yell and open the door.

“I knew you wouldn’t be done, so I came to help out.”

“Thank you darling, you’re the best.”

As we joined forces to put the rest of my apartment into some semblance of a habitable environment, “What’s that weird smell?”

“What?” I ask.

“You don’t smell it? Really?”

And then it hit me. The acrid sting of rain-soaked clothes mingling with a hint of turkey and a waft of chocolate hit me just as I was about to retort with extreme prejudice. The metaphorical glass of illusion had shattered. And suddenly, I was panicking again.

“Damn, that’s strong.”

“Exactly!” came the even more stinging reply.

I ran to the bedroom to get my can of deodorant and proceeded to soak the house from balcony to verandah till I ran out of it. I sat down, a triumphant smile on my face. Done… and done.

And then there it was again, emerging from the thick barrier of deodorant, to assault me once more. Damn! Why wouldn’t it go away?

“Looks like your master plan’s a dud, huh?” sarcasm in the face of an emergency. Like that was going to help.

My partner ran down to the car and rushed back holding a can of Ambi Pur Air Effects Spring Air Freshener. “Try this maybe?”

I didn’t need to be told twice. And just as I finished gently dabbing the apartment with it, the doorbell rang. It was time. And I was ready; the apartment, smelling like the 1^st of July, was too.

My love went to the door just as I finished straightening my clothes. Opening it wide, she said,

“Here is the man I want to marry!”

I am blogging for #SmellyToSmileyactivity at Blogadda.com in association with Ambi Pur.

Indian Media teaches Sexism to School Children Now!

Today, the results of the CBSE class 12 results were announced across India and the kids seemed to have done pretty well. Although I don’t believe in the present system of examination myself, I’m sure we have a lot of proud parents today and others who are saying, “Look, Sharmaji’s son got 0.2% more than you! Which college will accept you now? You have destroyed your career and my reputation!”

Meanwhile the media is all about ‘Girls score better than boys!’ ‘Girls beat boys’ and so on and so forth all over social media. They’ll probably do the same thing on the front page of their newspapers tomorrow morning. And well, the news channels will be doing it right now. Really! Go check.

Ever since this dialogue of sexism has come to the forefront in India, we have been all about the empowerment of women and highlighting their successes and praising their leadership skills. All that is well and good and it is actually helping. But then the media goes ahead and creates the kind of tension that is counterproductive to everything else they think they’re doing for women empowerment.

Image Courtesy: dailymail.co.uk

While the only thing they’re doing is:

They’re creating unhealthy competition

Almost every media house in India has tweeted something to the effect that girls have performed better than boys in this academic year. What they don’t seem to realize is that they’re unconsciously widening the gender rift in academia which is already bad in India. Competition is good, but competition based on plain old gender divisive lines is ridiculous.

They’re creating familial rifts

Nobody can understand this point more than those who have risen in a house with a sibling of another gender. In a still very much patriarchal Indian society, a boy scoring less than a girl is perceived as a shame as it is assumed that the boy is going to be the breadwinner of the family. Looking at such headlines from the family perspective, the media is just putting more pressure on boys to do well. No wonder cases of suicides are going up every year.

Their idea of feminism is as evolved as a chimpanzee

The media wants to empower women but they either don’t know or don’t want to believe that feminism does not encourage putting one gender over the other. It is not about demeaning boys but about bring everyone to the same level. By saying, ‘girls outshine boys’ the only thing they’re proving is that they’re knowledge of feminism is as much as the politicians they label ‘sexist’.

Oh Indian media, when will you figure out what you're really doing?

The Moustache with Political Affiliations

I work and study in another city so I have to travel home for functions and other things like letting my parents know I’m alive, that I’ve not dropped out of my study programme and that I managed to pay my rent on time so I wasn’t sleeping on the road.

I reached home yesterday for this awesome party my Dad my arranged, for my sibling’s birthday. Yeah, I never got those, but whatever. So, whenever I come home, I shave and travel because in my city I’m pretty ok with a beard and don’t exactly look like I’m about to pounce on someone on a lonely road but back home, there’d be a riot if my chin even has the inkling of facial hair.

This time, before leaving, as I faced the mirror, razor in hand, I thought to myself, “Let’s mess with the family.” I had thought of the most shocking, jaw dropping, bottoms upping and outlandish idea to blow the daylights out of the whole family by entering the party… with a Hitler Moustache!

Left - Hitler and Right - Chaplin

Well, the correct term for this badass of the facial hair world is actually ‘the toothbrush’ but you can understand why I would want to call it by its other name. Had I mustered the courage to pull off this, what in the back of my mind, was still a brilliant stunt, I have no doubt that I would have been ridiculed, shamed, laughed at and then ostracised for being a complete idiot by the entire family, the neighbours, and basically my entire city until I went and shaved it off. I’m glad that good sense prevailed over my sense of tasteless humour.

The idea, as foolhardy as it might have been, created a train of thoughts from the very perception that people have about this particular moustache. True, it is associated with a man who tried to wipe out a whole race of people because he decided that he was superior to them. But is that really the fault of the moustache? Was it the moustache that instilled a sense of supremacy in Hitler? Then why didn’t it have the same effect on the man who was just four days elder to him and presumably as famous as Hitler is notorious: Sir Charles Spencer ‘Charlie’ Chaplin.

Same as above.

A German and an Englishman, living in the same age, leaders in their own fields and sporting the same moustache, but the collective consciousness only remembers the one who has done more evil and not the one who brought happiness. It is not that I don’t realize the severity of events or don’t understand the horrors perpetrated by Hitler, I’m just pointing out that people may be more prone to violence maybe because it is an easier choice than doing good. Even neutrality is akin to siding with the aggressor and as Dante Alighieri put it, ‘The darkest places in hell are reserved for those who maintain their neutrality in times of moral crises.’

That may well be the reason that this particular moustache is forever associated by with the name of Adolf Hitler rather than with the most loved comedian of all time, Charlie Chaplin.

The Politics of Friendship

There is a question or should I perhaps call it a dilemma, about friendship. And it’s not about two genders, but three.

The problem of what ‘type’ of friends we should and should not cultivate has been a question that is perhaps addressed in every household at one time or another in childhood, teen years and sometimes even adulthood.

Usually these questions revolve around bad influences and those few from shady backgrounds or different cultures. But whether one can have friends from the other two genders is rarely discussed. It is simply understood that persons of those category are out of bounds. That discussion is supposedly purely adult talk and taboo for the same people whose choices are being determined. Funny country!

Personally experiencing ridicule in school because of casual conversations with girls, I learned that along with society in general, even the education system is in denial that there is actually a problem of communication between genders. This gap is sometimes also encouraged through ridicule, excommunication from the peer group and marginalization from the opposite gender.

Image Courtesy: Google Images/extension.org.

These deliberate gender-distancing tactics have, I have realized, long lasting effects on the psyche. Talking just about males and females: Men may grow up to be indifferent, hostile and inconsiderate towards women. Women may grow up to be paranoid, disgusted and perhaps even leery of men.

If not given a chance to understand the dynamics of different genders by mingling, problems are likely to develop in a society that has the misfortune to be the one where such individuals grow up. The blinders put on them as kids are likely to stay on forever, the conditioning of a lifetime giving an extremely skewed vision and a closed mindset.

Perhaps this is what has happened to the people of the third gender. Avoided, shunned and “protected” from them, the rest of society treats them as sub-humans. Marginalized by the society that they should have been accepted into as normally as any other person, the people of the third gender have had to fight a long and arduous battle for the most fundamental rights. And even though the Indian government has accepted them as part of society, there is possibly a long road ahead of them trying to be part of society in this country.

This is the politics of the society we have been born into. Something as fundamental as friendship can also be the reason for discord. It makes one realize the potential for division within us.

Indian Morality v/s Sex Education

Note: This post is not fit for those below the age of 18 since it contains explicit material which they should not be exposed to because they are Indians and Indian children should not be corrupted by the western culture that youngsters like me have fallen into. They should not be dirtied in the mire of sex; Boys till the age of 28 when they are ready to be married off to a girl aged between 18-21 without knowing how to react to their natural urges or menstruation or safe sex or family planning.

Image Courtesy: Google Images.

Having given the above warning I now feel morally right to write about this taboo subject without any of those moral policemen coming up and beating me up to a pulp or parading me naked in the street or hanging me up in a tree or something. Well, you never know…

So it seems like some people who care entirely too much about the morality of Indian people are against sex education being introduced to children in school because they believe that it will have an adverse effect on the gentle and yet untouched minds of the younger generation. Mind you, a generation which thinks nothing of committing rape before the age of eighteen in a running bus, in the capital of the country. These people feel that sex education will tilt their children’s minds in the direction of that horrible and degrading act-which-must-not-be-named. Well, I don’t suppose they know how much porn their innocent children have stored in their hard drives and how much experimentation goes on, more often than not with disastrous consequences. Forgive them Lord, for they are the innocent ones, not their children!

It is curious indeed how hard it is for people to understand the importance of sex education. My generation did not have sex education and neither did any generation before me, except that which some smart parents imparted to their children. Now if we didn't have sex education and still we turned out to be alright, why do we need it now?

We turned out alright, did we? Then how does this generation and those before manage to rape women, spread sexual diseases, get frightened by menstruation, treat women in periods like untouchables, have a football team full of children, discriminate against homosexuals, repress their urges, hurt their partners during intercourse, randomly define unnatural sex, abhor transgender people, confuse their sexual orientation and don’t have a bloody clue about sex change procedures?

There must be a reason right? Yes, it is called lack of information on sex and gender and the role they play in forming society.

India has evolved from an apparently hedonistic society as one can make out from old temples and manuscripts into an ultra-conservationist and Puritanical society like England was in the time of the Lord Protector Oliver Cromwell. The difference is that the change in England came with the change in power while in India it happened over time with the influence of religion and imposed self-righteous morality.

In the course of this transition in India, it has become taboo to talk about sex and its affiliates to even one’s parents because everyone becomes very uncomfortable around these subjects. This problem especially seems to exist between father and son because a mother and daughter do talk about such things since they need to learn about their bodies, or so I've heard. Television channels are changed at the show of some skin and radio stations are changed as soon as a song with apparently explicit lyrics is played. If such is the situation, it is nigh impossible for children to learn what they need to except from those ‘non-existent’ sex education classes.

Modern educationists and leaders need to open their eyes to the need of the day and recognize the value of sex education to children who are today getting exposed to the same at a very young age owing to various factors I don’t need to expound upon. Nobody is innocent in this age of information (unless they live in China or North Korea). It is extremely necessary that children learn about their bodies, their urges and the problems that accompany the wrong use of the wrong things at the wrong age.

It will be a good day indeed when sex education is introduced throughout India.

On Mistrusting your Children…

Dear Mistrustful Parent,

I am forced to write this letter on behalf of your children today because I have seen enough of their suffering and it is time that you notice it too, before it is too late.

Now, after you read this letter, you may wonder why your children didn’t tell you all this. Well, just know that’s because they are scared you’ll become even worse than before or feel that it won’t make single iota of difference to you which is a much more frightening prospect if you ask me.

So, coming to you again. This is what your behaviour normally looks like:

·         You bind your children to yourself.

·         You confine them to the prison you so naively call your home.

·         You check on them like a detective for hire (or you hire one if you have enough money)

·         You go to meet their teachers even when you’re not called.

·         You create a ruckus in their office if they are not there.

·         You wait up at night till they are back home with a shoe, broom or belt in your hand.

·         You call them fifteen times for every hour they are not home.

·         You investigate all their friends like the police do to suspected criminals.

·         You follow them to see where they go.

·         You constantly accuse them of lying to make sure they never do so.

·         God forbid they are seen with members of the opposite sex; you go bat shit insane demanding answers.

And then you tell them that they don’t have a life…

I can understand your need to keep your children safe from this big bad world and give them a better life by protecting them from everything that’s out there. Well, what do your children know? They are so innocent that they will probably go around with the wrong kind of company and get mixed in matters that they shouldn’t get involved in but what about the values that you have imparted to them? What about the strength that you have given them? What about the character that you have built in them? Doesn't that count for anything?

Do you not trust your own upbringing to take care of your children? Do you feel that you were an inadequate parent? Do you feel that your lack of attention towards your children will reflect in their behaviour later on? Is that way you mistrust them so much; because you mistrust yourself?

You may or may not know this, but your children probably feel suffocation, frustration, despair, anger, hopelessness and loneliness because of what you are doing. Your children are like coiled springs ready to unwind the moment there is a tiny ray of hope that they can escape you. In case that they cannot, they try to escape by means of the knife, rope or bottle.

Is this what you want for your children, a life of misery and childhood memories only filled with trauma and unmitigated hatred for you?

I hope not and it is with that hope and a teardrop that I end this letter to you dear Parent.

Yours in hope,

The Concerned Friend.

The Chosen One (Guest Post)

On the 17^th of January 2014, my one and only invitation to write a guest post for another blog materialized when my post, ‘The Power of Division in Religion’ was published on Namrota Mazumdar’s blog, Coffee Beans. Ever since then I've been pestering her to write a guest post for mine, not because I had to compensate for her asking me, but because it was only then that I had understood the concept of having a guest on the blog.

Namrota is one of the best bloggers I've read in this one year of blogging. She is one who puts all her energies into creating a post that is not only engaging but also which conveys all she wants to say in a limited number of words. I can safely say that she has never disappointed her readers, especially me; such a wordsmith of high calibre is she. I am privileged to have her on my blog and what with a post that has implications such that might horrify the best of you.

The Chosen One! Lucky Orphan…

By Namrota Mazumdar

Life duels within a little body that has not seen the world for say more than a couple of years is thrown in the dark and cold well of categories. Categories with tags like lineage, legitimacy, religion…etc. The reason behind such spiteful action is that the child has nobody in the world to call his or her own. The child is an orphan. And the couple who is there to choose a baby to make their own…to call their own have their preferences listed already.

They don’t have children, Mother Nature was harsh on them and for some medical reason they can’t conceive a baby. So, they are at an orphanage to pick a baby. Now when it’s in their hands to select their child, they put forward their tiny list.

No medical problems
Must belong to their religion (caste doesn't matter, they aren't sectarians; blessed souls)
Legitimate birth (How can a couple from a good educated family bring home a child born out of rape or out of wedlock?)

Not much they are asking, are they? God bless them!

Not everyone is so much privileged to have their choice materialize. Like the husband once mentioned to one of his kin, who thought otherwise about their list, we go to buy apples we pick the lovely red juicy ones. Handsome thought I must say, putting babies and apples side by side, the best fruit known to humanity…remember the saying, “An apple a day keeps the doctor away”. How many of us get to choose our children, eh? Lucky couple! And what perfection personified parents the chosen one would be honored with. The child would grow up with their values and principle and carry forward the purity of humanity the foster parents preach and practice. Lucky child!

So, maybe it’s not cold and dark well nor the action is spiteful, is it? I take back my words and gracefully bow down to the couple and their likes. 

Waiting for Tonight…

‘… When you will be here in my arms’, so sings Jennifer Lopez as I sit down to write a post in a dinghy little flat that we are using as temporary residence while attending a wedding in the family. It is Christmas season and also wedding season at the same time in India, since the last two months of the year are considered auspicious for marriages (I know not why).

Weddings, as I've found to my knowledge, are very hefty affairs to manage. It becomes excruciatingly more difficult or laidback in direct proportion to the number of relatives invited for the occasion. It also matters if the guests are local residents or travelling from elsewhere.

All other wedding preparations aside, it is highly important to take care of one’s guests. Arranging for their residence, their water supply, their electricity, their food and transportation can be very gruelling when arrangements also have to be made for other aspects of the actual marriage.

The concept of the ‘Big Fat Indian Wedding’ is not foreign to the ears and if you haven’t heard about it or are unsure to what extent it is true, let me assure you that it is indeed so (I speak only on my experience). Sometimes I wonder how most of the time, these weddings go off without a glitch. Maybe it is years of training in a big Indian family that conditions one to prepare for such a big and important event.

But as it is in the wedding that I've come to attend, the best part of the wedding is in the whole family being involved in the preparations. All the uncles and aunties and brothers and sisters and cousins coming over in advance to help out the family and lend a hand in organizing the event. More than a social function, it serves as a bonding agent that brings far off relatives together and presents an opportunity for clueless cousins to meet the family, perhaps for the first time as it is in my case.

To see people you haven’t known are related to you or to see people you already know from somewhere turning out to be your fourth or fifth cousin. To be amused at your uncles being younger to you or meeting a horde of grand-uncles who are fairly young. To engage in the harmless fun of calling young girls ‘aunty’ and dishing out relationship advice to uncles who have just entered college and look up to you.

I’m not sure how many of my readers will be able to relate to this but if you can, you know what I’m talking about and those who can’t, you don’t know what you’re missing.

A Christmas Realization

“Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way”, I can hear the choir sing as they move from one street to the next, spreading the joy of Christmas.

I go to the window of my first floor apartment and gaze upon the myriad of colours that stare back at me from the multitude of lights upon the neighbour’s giant Christmas tree. The silver bells, the little drummer boy, Frosty the snowman and Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer hang there in oblivious calm and apparent joy at the birth of the saviour.

It is no longer a silent night. Noisy crowds jostling through the lanes; trying to get home for Christmas, attempting to buy last minute items, getting last minute gifts and renting out Santa costumes.

Image Courtesy: Google Images.

This winter wonderland hardly gives me any peace, so far away from home am I. In a different city, a big town. No mangers here, no real life plays of the birth, no family, just the loneliness of this room and the desolation of a lost Christmas in work.

Mother had called me, she had been crying. She said, “Please come home for Christmas” but I said I couldn't. Not if I wanted to keep my job. I needed the job, badly so. She cried some more then. I couldn't bear it and slammed the phone. Cruel, but necessary nonetheless.

It is starting to snow now. A White Christmas had been predicted but had seemed unlikely. This was a problem. How was I to go now? Yes, I’d decided to go the moment I put down the telephone. To hell with the job and to hell with this city. I could be a farming man once more, like my old man.  I’d called mama right back and told her, “I’ll be home for Christmas.”

Living in this strange city I've realized that there’s no place like home. My bags are packed, I’m ready to go. Oh little town of Bethlehem, I’m coming home.

And as for the weather, let it snow, let it snow, let it snow…

Note: This is a work of fiction. It is integrated with a collage of Christmas carols in the spirit of the season. Have a very merry Christmas and a fruitful New year!

Celebrating Nonsensical Things

There is a rising trend among teenagers today. I know not whether it is relevant everywhere but I've certainly seen a fair share of the teenage public engage in this particularly irrelevant and to an extent, nonsensical celebration. Now this is my personal view and I’m open to other interpretations, if anyone would like to offer any.

The trend I’m referring to is celebrating ‘one week’, ‘one month’, ‘two months’ and so on and so forth, of a relationship. Two people, apparently in love, announcing to the world that their relation completes a milestone in time. I wonder why.  When I was in the middle of my undergraduate studies, I used to be amused at the first and second year kids celebrating a week together. I would think that they were relieved that it had lasted that long. I mean that we as humans of course need reasons to celebrate but I wonder whether those celebrations were not in fact sighs of relief at the endurance level of the couple.

Secondly, the concept of gifting things to one’s partner for absolutely no reason at all is also alien to me. I do not get how people gift each other chocolates and stuff. I have seen boys and girls who get a limited amount of money from home to spend while in college, especially those whose homes weren't in the same city. These people would buy lavish gifts and this and that for their partners all the time and then would borrow money from other people at the end of the month. This, I thought to be a literal bribe for the partner to stay along with them. I mean, it may be alright once in a while but how can one afford to spend recklessly and then complain that their parents didn't love them enough to pay for their expenses?

For some time now, I've been observing a couple of teenagers and what strikes me is their adherence and leaning towards foreign soap operas rather than Indian ones. Good job kids! But anyhow, my point is that it may be possible that teens today are influenced enough by these English and American television shows to believe that relationships do not in fact last as long as their parents advertise. I have also watched said shows and since I've just passed this stage a couple of years ago, I think that’s what has also run through my mind at one time or another. Is it not harmful then if one thinks about it? That teenagers today feel that their relationships, should they choose to commit to one, will ultimately fail; which is leading them to be overjoyed at every little step along the way?

Now, I’m not against the television shows or any media in particular, what I’m afraid of is a senseless generation of Indians who believe whatever they see on the ‘idiot box’ and that is a matter that should be given serious consideration by parents as well as the teenagers themselves. They need to be made aware of the fictional nature of these shows by their parents and/or teachers. Students in the mass communication field are aware of what happens here but what about the rest? It is absolutely imperative to for parents to talk to their children about one of the topics considered taboo in Indian society. When even love marriage is considered sacrilegious in this country, I wonder how communication between generations can take place on this apparently delicate topic.

The Fight for the Streets

It had been an exhausting day with assignments, voice-overs, projects and a heavy dose of ‘Contempt of Court’ in college. When we finally managed to escape at about 4 pm, we were half dead and in dire need of tea, the international symbol of rejuvenation and the ultimate reviver of all things that are brain dead. And no, I do not exaggerate. So the four of us proceeded to the nearest corner and ordered tea.

That is when it happened - The gang war. Not of thugs or dogs, but of the multitude of shoe-shine boys one finds roaming around the office complexes in Ahmedabad.

As we were sitting there, sipping tea and just talking about nothing in particular the effect of Iran’s nuclear deal in respect to India’s oil export, we noticed a commotion just across the road. There were about six boys around the ages of 8-10 talking down another one of them. The poor kid most probably being bullied or made fun of for not earning enough. He started crying after a few minutes of silent sulking. Getting increasingly encouraged, the other boys continued while a few of them stopped and looked concerned. Having enough of this nonsense, the victim finally snapped and threw a punch at the principal offender who was about two inches taller than him. After that, it was a complete free-for-all and the rest of the boys just picked their jousting partners at random and there began the first kiddie street brawl I’d ever witnessed in my twenty one years.

This scene was being observed by around thirty or forty people from offices around the block. Some of them even bought peanuts from a nearby vendor and began cheering them on. People were just watching as if this were some form of entertainment and a delightful diversion from their mundane lives of home-office-home. I felt as if I’d gone back to the glorious days of the Roman Empire and was seated among the bloodthirsty crowd in the Coliseum. No one, absolutely nobody gave a damn about the plight of the kids, and if they did, they sure didn't show it there. Yeah, who wants to get in the middle of a brilliant fight and get mixed up with the supposed child labour mafia that they saw in Slumdog. Anyway, the fight continued till the tallest boy caught the collar of the crying kid and asked in the meanest tone he could manage,

“Idhar ka Don kaun?” (Who is the Don of this area?)

Wow! Silence. Everyone was stunned by what the little blighter had managed to say and with such conviction! After that, the rest of the boys caught the little one and took him away before anyone could do anything about the situation.

I don’t think I need to write anything more about this since all my readers are capable enough to understand the implications of what I've witnessed today. Some of us must have witnessed such things happening in our own cities and countries and others must have heard about it; but everyone has surely understood the plight of children today, at least in India.

Where is compulsory education?

Where are anti child labour laws?

Where are children protection groups?

Where is the social and moral responsibility of parents?

Where are the police?

Where does the moral fibre of civilized society stand today?

These questions lie unanswered and will probably remain so for the foreseeable future.

The Happily Ever After Party

The Big Fat Indian weddings have been famous and notorious all over the world for being beautiful and mind-bogglingly expensive. They are pompous, extravagant, have lots of unnecessary trappings and are, as mentioned before (bordering on the obscene) expensive. But it is all in the name of tradition. One can put the blame on the endless line of predecessors who thought fit to celebrate their union by throwing insane parties that lasted anywhere between three days and a week. Inviting people from all corners of the empire/country to gape in awe at the kick-ass way they could afford to feed a host by blowing up all their life savings in one huge bash. 

But weddings are seldom recognized to be what they may or may not have originally meant to be, that is a gathering of the community, meeting and reminiscing about what has happened and the opportunity to meet new people and develop contacts with possibly related or similar minded people over long distances. After all, that was a time when the word communication meant travelling vast distances and meeting up with relatives only a few times in many years.

But today, though there may not seem to be a difference in Indian weddings, I feel there are subtle changes taking place within the mindsets of people. There are several factors contributing to the change in the wedding scenario in today’s world, I've tried to bring up a few here.

First of all, is the factor of cost. With democracy and taxes and inflation, the expense incurred in marriages have risen up exponentially which means that the more people one invites, the more their bank balance dwindles. Everything, ranging from taxi rent, hotel bookings, the pundit/priest, the halls and food have prices shooting through the roof. Then there is also the cost the bride’s father has to pay to get his daughter married. Arranging a wedding, decorating a girl in gold, bestowing lavish gifts upon the groom and feeding an army can certainly be a tad expensive.

The second factor is that of communication. In today’s world, in contrast to yesterday’s, is the benefit of greater communication ability. One can talk and meet people with anytime with those once magical instruments called the “flying chariot” and “akaashvani.”  It is unnecessary and also virtually impossible to invite all the people you know because due to technology today, one may have contacts with millions of people around the world. So unless one is the sheikh of someplace or owns maybe a dozen oilfields, so many people cannot be invited.

The third and last factor affecting the Indian wedding is the change in generation and hence the evolution of thinking and freedom from age old traditions that bound the older ones. The Indian society is subtly changing, independent thought processes are getting bolder and are gaining impetus largely due to the social media and interaction with people in other parts of the world. The present Indian youth seems to be distancing themselves from their culture, not in a way that is defiant but in a way that promotes rational thinking and gives rise to the freedom of thought independent of their parents and grandparents. Marriage has no longer retained its traditional meaning today. Anybody can and possibly will marry anyone they want. They might also feel it was a mistake and marry again. Orthodox thinking today is making way for the future in which everyone is a master of one’s own fate and is hardly if ever controlled by others. Now if you’re going to marry more than once, can you afford that bash again? Because your parents sure can’t.

Note: This is the author’s personal view and has been written with statistics in his own head. He has merely written what he has observed in his surroundings. If one holds a different view, the comment box is begging for your thoughts.

The Man & his Mop

I’m sure you know how the whole week passes by with not a moment to spare for yourself? At least for me it’s work – work – work with no time for the hair I’m trying to grow once again. I’m aiming for shoulder length but let’s see till when I can manage to hang on to them with this hectic schedule and the inherent heat that has seeped into the atmosphere here in Ahmedabad.

I cannot fathom how women with long hair manage to take care of that mop but I put it down to years of practice and struggle with the mass of black snakes the Gods thought fit to put on various parts of the body. Well, I’m pretty new to the experience since this is only the second time that I've tried to grow my hair, the first being when I completed school and moved on to college. I was in the place which you’d probably call a ‘hair phase’. Wanted to be the cool dude with the hair but ended up chopping the locks within just four months partly due to frustration, partly due to the heat and partly due to the fact that my parents were horrified at what I’d done to my hair and refused to acknowledge me as their son in public. Yeah, that bad.

Well, this time I've managed to cross the four-month barrier and it’s looking pretty good so far. The heat has abated and I do not plan to have my hair chopped down due to any pressure this time, parental or otherwise. But then there is another problem of finding time to groom this hair. I admit that even this time around I've had a pretty hard time managing all this volume upon my head and I've considered more than once about walking the path to the barber’s shop but I've maintained my resolve till now only because of the compliments I keep receiving now and then from friends and that’s what keeps me going.

Let’s see how long it lasts…

Note: I've not put up a photograph of myself in the fear that somebody will break my illusion of this hair looking totally awesome.

The Locked Door

There has been a severe spate of happenings in our nation, those things that should not have happened and those things that are often not named or just spoken about in hushed whispers in polite society. Yes, I mean the issue of rape, female harassment, brutal beatings and murder. These things have been prevalent in the past too and it's not like there has been a sudden surge of such criminal behaviour that has hit our nation, it is simply that the media had nothing better to show, so they picked up this story and ran with it. I read about rape, suicides and killings almost everyday in the newspapers, however these everyday rapes don't become topics of national interest. Why? Just because they didn't happen in the capital of the nation? These things are very disturbing - to me of course, but I'm sure a few others must have also realized this folly.

Anyway, I'm digressing. So coming back to the matter at hand, families today have become very protective of the women in their households. I'm not generalizing here, merely stating what I've observed in my circles. They want the women to dress 'decently', not stay out 'late' at night, not get 'too friendly' with boys and to keep calling home every two hours to report in. 

What does this say of our society? 

What does it tell us of our attitudes towards these happenings? 

How have these happenings affected the mentality of the people?

These recent events have, in my opinion, endangered the Woman even more. She has become a captive in her own house, it seems. She may be safe physically (or so everyone seems to think), but Her spirit has been killed. Her freedom taken away and Her choices limited to those deemed safe for Her. These limitations may be seen as cruel bonds biting into the soul and everyone may blame the Woman's father for these chains tied to her ankles. But, reflect for a moment from the perspective of a father who is perhaps very scared and horrified by what he is seeing on the news and only wants the safety of daughter. Is he really to be blamed? Is it only His fault?

Well, I don't think so and thus I wrote a few lines taking inspiration from the experience of one of my friends. It describes the strife between a father and a daughter but it also comes with a realization at the end.

The Locked Door

(A daughter’s silent scream)

I remember the day I tried to fly, my first flight to redeem          

The blue beyond that called to me, though silent it so seemed;

The wind above, the clouds below, though frightful it all was,

My wings I poised, my feet I set, to take off into the sky.

The clouds then took a blackish hue, a shadow form above,

My protector there from all to save, his daughter to defend -

Came swooping down and set his wings around my little form,

And set me back and held me close and shut me off the edge.

I shrieked, I clawed, till bruised he got, but leave me he would not;

But I blame him not, his child I was, regardless of it all.

                                                                                       

     -Brendan-Anton R. Dabhi

Quite a number of women among those who are my friends have agreed that they carry such a sentiment, but I would like to know if women over a large populace believe what I've written to be true. So I urge the women reading this post to make a comment, however you may feel.

The Golden Key of Freedom

It is a clear sunny day in the city of Rajkot with the forecast of temperatures ranging from 40 – 42 degrees Celsius with absolutely no clouds on the horizon. I've just come back from my driving lesson, and writing this post with the cup o’ tea Mom made in the morning but which I couldn't drink, because well, I’m a late person.

Now, it so happens that it’s my birthday and I've been fielding calls ever since the clock struck twelve last night. Friends started calling up then and kept at it till 3 in the morning and when I finally crawled into bed and seemed to get a few moments of blessed sleep, I was awakened by the sound my phone going off again. Not only my phone but three phones - all over the house, just for me. And it was 7 in the morning!

Who calls up a 21 year old guy at 7 am in the morning? In the vacations!

I’ll tell you – his aunts.

Yeah, so I jump out of bed with the enthusiasm of a koala bear, literally. I talk to my aunt and the first thing she says to me is, “So, now you have the Golden Key of Freedom! You’re 21!” and I went, “Huh?” partly because my sleep- addled brain couldn't make sense of what she was saying and partly because I didn't know what on earth she was talking about. So I asked her, and she said now that I was 21, I was a MAN! I could do anything I wanted, and nobody would stop me. I could be the king of my own life and Dad wouldn't be able to tell me what to do anymore. They said I could even go and marry anyone I chose, yes, you read that correctly, marry. And I again went, “Yes, yes aunty.” And kept smiling stupidly at the phone.

Image courtesy: Google Images.

It was only after I hung up and went to the washroom to clean up that I realized that what she said was true and a little frightening. I stared at myself in the mirror for a long time, looking into my own eyes. It was as if I’d gone into the past, the mirror - a window into my soul, my memories. I saw in black and white, the care of my father, the love of my mother the camaraderie of my sister and the support of my loved ones, the things that had brought me up to be the man I am today. I saw all this as if on film, the flashback in seeming slow motion but running in fast forward at the same time and I realized that things were never going to be the same again. I had left my adolescence behind and now I was old enough to shoulder my own responsibilities and be a man of the House of Dabhi. It was a strange feeling, a bit too much? Yes. But also a bit of pride in now being included among the elders of my house.

I finally watched the reel run out into a haze as I was brought back into the present by Flo Rida singing, “Can you blow my whistle baby…” I picked up the phone and said,

“Hello aunty, good morning…”