Matter of Choice

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. However keep the initials of each character in mind while reading , it may just be someone you know. 

Randy Garcia was cocooned in his room. In a couple of days he had to give a speech in front of his classmates. Randy tried to calm his nervous by smoking cigarettes. He went over the points that were written by his good friend and aspiring publicist Gina. She loved him secretly and would give up her soul to see him being applauded and win the college elections that were coming up next month. Randy was from a respectable family. His command over the language was acquired from various universities that he had enrolled into, only to succeed with the help of his lineage.

Nathan Moore was a professor in the political science division of the college. He came from a low income family, studied in community libraries, worked at odd jobs and managed to get an education. Since he was not so advantaged, he had also got through college through the reservation system. So it was but natural that he would always support the boys from the backward class. He loved his religion and opposed anyone who was against it. He would get into arguments with other religious fanatics who showcased their religion as the ultimate religion to be followed. The college was going into elections next month and they had to choose a leader from the student body. He already had set eyes on his favorite student -cum –confidant, Rachael Thatcher. He had prepared a powerful speech for her. She had rallied with him and had also managed to bully the boys to comply with her whims and fancies.

Aron King was the local boy, who grew up in the same town, went to the same state school, got his education on merit basis. He had acquired admission into college only after the reservation seats were filled and he was given the seat on his own merit. Therefore he wasn’t the favorite of Prof Nathan. Aron could debate with anyone openly; however he had no experience in leading or no backing from any professors. So when his good friend Anna told him to stand for the student elections, he was hesitant.  But she encouraged him, and he reluctantly agreed. Anna was his strength and he needed her guidance.

The Election Day arrived; each candidate came on and gave their speech on how they would change the system in college.

Randy was a painter by nature. He knew if he didn’t contest the elections, his mother would be very upset. She had warned him that if he didn’t contest, then she would strike him out of all the wealth that she had accumulated over the years and give it all up to his sister Patricia. While giving his speech, Randy didn’t realize that the questions raised by one of the students Archie Gordon had no answers. He was speechless but he managed to recollect the speech written by Gina and added one line from each paragraph to answer him. Archie was his friend in disguise, so therefore he didn’t object nor did he correct Randy.

Then came Rachael’s turn, she raised her voice and boomed into the speakers. She showcased her high school activities as a student administrator and emphasized all the good that she had done for her college till date, suppressing the fact that her professor Nathan had helped and coerced the others into submission while getting all the work done.  She was met with a thunderous round of applause.

Aron King stood there in front of the crowd. His glasses were firmly on his face and his eyes were scanning the filled room. He was going to be next after Rachael in his speech today and he had written his own speech and had rehearsed it a million times. He meticulously started his speech and spoke the truth about Prof Nathan and Rachael. He sympathized with Randy as he was really a painter by nature and was just following his mom’s orders. Not once did the audience interrupt him. They all knew the truth. They knew if they interrupted today, the truth would never come out. The principal of the college empathized with him and did nothing to stop him from speaking. Prof Nathan had a very strong hold on all, except Aron. The principal admired this boy’s courage, for standing up against the bully and the bluffer.

The college then went to vote.

1^st Ending

First time in the history of the college, Prof Nathan didn't win. His candidate was shocked. He lost out to Aron with a margin of 15 votes. Prof Nathan tried to demean Aron by calling him names and making fun of his attire. Rachael tried to calm him down and managed to take him away. Randy was relieved that he did what his mother asked him to, but thankfully didn't have to continue this façade of being a good leader anymore. He would paint now and do what he loved to do.

2^ndEnding.

The expected happened. Rachael’s grip was greater over the students.  She had managed to threaten the people with dire consequences if they didn’t vote for her. Prof Nathan rejoiced. Now he would coerce the student union leaders to vote to increase the reservation system. He would give preference to those who followed his ideology, his religion. He would turn this college into his personal kingdom. Aaron would be just a name in the college history. In fact he was branding him as a traitor to his religion and to his Alma Mater from where he got his education. Randy was relieved that he did what his mother said but thankfully didn’t have to continue this façade of being a good leader anymore. He would paint now and do what he loved to do.

Which of these two scenarios do you want for yourselves, readers? Politics is a dirty game and it’s not my cup of tea said the common man. The common man gets silenced or the common man revolts. The nation rises or the nation ignores and goes to sleep. That one vote that you would give to any of the candidates is what will matter, so be fearless and vote. The question is not who you will vote into power. The question should be - Will you Vote?

K

15th February 2014

From Humans to Robots

What is the first thing you do when you get up?

My mom would say you should say a small prayer and thank the lord for one more day. But we live in a technology obsessed world. The first thing we do when we get up is to reach out for our smartphones. While in bed, we scroll through the messages, our news feeds on social media sites and by the time tea/coffee is ready you haven’t seen the sun come up but you are abreast on the life of strangers and friends.

Then we whiz into office, and start our daily grind. We check our emails and start responding in a robotic manner. There is a limited greeting exchanged with  colleagues, unless you’re working in a government office where for the first one hour you’re catching up on the daily gossip. Emails and office instant messaging has made communication faster; but less personal. It has helped increase productivity but people are shielded by the email and avoid face to face communication as much as possible. Email was supposed to lower the response time but it has in fact lowered the human interactions.

While delivering bad news, the email is the most effective tool. For example:  if you don’t get selected for a particular job, or if your presentation wasn’t approved, an email comes to the rescue... We all want to avoid the awkward moment of having to explain the rationale behind the rejection. But the rationale is what gives closure to the receiver. It gives a chance to interact with the person and give them feedback. In hiding behind the emails we tend to avoid the possible confrontations. We are evolving, with so many applications for communication.

We prefer the written word over the spoken word.

Even love today is all about the status messages. Writing love letters is definitely a thing of the past. The heavy heart when you receive the love letter, the anticipation of the contents and the feeling of joy on opening the envelope are all gone. Now an email from a loved one could increase the heart rate but somehow seeing their handwriting has its own charm, which an email can never replicate. Recently I read an article where the author was counting the amount of birthday wishes he receives now- a –days by phone as compared to via social media sites. He felt special when someone called him to wish him instead of using the internet. During my teenage years for every birthday of my friends, I would line up at the card shop and buy Anne Geddes cards because they were my favorite. How the message on those Hallmark cards used to matter. Now it’s a simple cut copy paste and an email sent along with an image. Really, how boring we have become. We have lost the ability to appreciate the artistic covers on the cards; we don’t pen a few personal lines. I don’t blame the card shops for going over the top with advertising during Valentine’s Day in order to recover the loss they must be incurring the full year. I think I would have to Google the nearest card shop in my locality, as they are now a dying breed.

The advent of Online Shopping is upon us. Firstly, let me clarify I am an online shopper of certain items. I have bought computers, phones, bags, books and some other items as well all online, so I am not averse to it. But now we have grocery shopping which is also online, I mean gone are the times when we could smell the coriander leaves, savor the feel of the tomatoes, the freshness of the vegetables in our hands. We simply click a button add it to a virtual cart and are done. There is no interaction between the seller and the buyer, no favoritism of which seller to go to, no small chit chat about the rising prices. When I was young, I knew my grocery shopkeeper by name. Today I have a choice between a few down the lane. However I choose to just call them instead of going to inspect the goods that he would deliver.

 I suppose it’s all about convenience in this fast paced world but sometimes I think the world should slow down and we should take a moment to breathe it all in.

However much we hate the email and the instant messenger apps, they provide us one thing that is really essential.

They provide us connectivity with people who we haven’t been able to stay in touch with. With the press of a button or two we can record our voice and send it over to a person sitting far away in a different country too.

 I have my mom’s recorded voice singing to my son. Without technology that wouldn't have been possible.

Technology has helped us grow from being the village idiot to the modern slave. But along the way, we have lost out on the human interactions of facial expressions, eye contact and small gestures which make us human.

K

1^st February 2014.

I am blogger, but I didn't know that I was writer too. We have Facebook to vent our one- liners and we have Twitter to let random strangers know what we are doing. But blogging is a different world all together. Our blogs are our personal diaries; we share our greatest fears and we share our smallest achievements with a 500 word write up. There are bloggers who are struggling with various diseases, some suffering from heartache, some first timers who just want to be heard. But all have a common purpose to someday be recognized by their words, to someday be published or to just connect with people with similar circumstances.

So I am truly blessed to have discovered a page on Facebook nonetheless that lets the anonymous writer within each of us to be heard. The Anonymous Writer page is not an ordinary page; it’s a page that is totally unbiased with regards to their political views. The writers or the admins of the page write from their heart and they weave stories that are real and make you relive your heartaches and all the 1000 emotions that we face in a day. I was a fan first and now I am an admin with them. I owe them my words and my heartfelt thanks as they were the ones who encouraged me to write short stories, a talent that I didn't think I had within me. I have miles to go before I can come close to the standards of the veteran writers on that page. I used to always wonder how the plot, the suspense and the characters come alive with each passing word, from the write-ups on the page. I know now the effort that goes in writing and putting yourself out there waiting to be critiqued by strangers nonetheless. The audience that TAW ranges across ages and therefore a lot of good and bad criticism can be received from them. I think every critic teaches you and they are a vital element of the story as well. So please do visit their page and see if the young blood with a fresh perspective can bring out the writer in you.

You can also inbox them with your write-ups and they could post it if they find it appealing.

Thank you and keep on writing.

K

10^th March 2014.

Donate - Short Story

Victor was born with a golden spoon in his mouth; he loved to take everything for granted. His schooling was at the top schools of the district and he was able to graduate from a prestigious college even though he had scored low.

Victor’s father, Michael had been brought up in poverty. He had made his fortune in the diamond business. From being an office boy in one of the diamond trading firms, to owning the firm eventually, he had made his fortune by sheer hard work and a keen sense of business... He made wise investments and watched his wealth grow over a period of twenty years. He wanted to provide the best for Victor and as any loving father would, didn't want Victor to ever have to slog even for a day.

So after graduation Victor joined St Joseph College of Management. He didn't need the degree but to satisfy his father, and to justify himself as the inheritor of the large business, he reluctantly joined college. Girls admired him and he developed fake friendships easily. The gang used to rag and tease boys and girls who would not conform to their way of thinking or to their lifestyle. They were the bullies of the campus and no one could touch them due to Michael’s money that was given as donation to the college trust.

Due to his obnoxious attitude, he had an attitude of ownership. If he didn't get a girl, he would buy her what she wanted. If he didn't get the seats he wanted at his favorite game, he would throw money at the cashier and ask for the manger to arrange for the same. His birthday parties were all about cash flowing outward and expensive gifts being showered to him by his father.

His mother had left his father, when Victor was ten years old. She didn't love the man that his father was becoming and since his father had more money, he got to keep Victor. Money had bought him as well.

Then on his twenty fifth birthday his dad gave him an Audi. They both went for a spin on the race course. He had been drinking and he had not informed his dad about the same. Both father and son raced on the roads without a care in the world. They avoided collision with three cars and that’s when they slowed down. But alas not fast enough.

The car hit a pothole and Victor lost control of the car. He slammed into the ongoing traffic coming his way.

Victor regained conscious, but he was in the hospital. The Audi, on impact had inflated the air bags. The air bags on Michael’s side somehow didn't open, due to which he went crashing into the bonnet of the vehicle.

He inquired about his father at the hospital, screaming at the nurses and shouted abuses at the doctors.  “Do you know who I am?” he roared. The doctors tried to calm him down. His father’s secretary -cum –friend- cum -assistant had arrived at the hospital and managed to pacify him. Victor arm was bruised but the doctors had taken care of that. He didn't want any pain killers.

The doctors need to perform surgery on his father to stop the internal bleeding, but there was a hitch.

His father was a rare blood type. He was what was known as “Bombay Blood”. A blood type so rare that only a handful people have it. Only “Bombay Blood” could be given to him and no other. The hospital had arranged for 2 bottles by contacting various hospitals however two more were required. Victor was ready to donate but the doctors refused as he had lost some blood himself and he was given medications. They appealed to him to locate his uncles or aunts who could donate. But there were none. His father was the last surviving member of the family. 

After threatening legal action the doctors agreed to take his blood, however they still needed one more bottle.

He appealed to his friends, his so called well-wishers. They used social media to reach out to anyone who could donate.

He said he would pay anyone with that blood type, any amount, if only they would donate the same day. .

A lot of fake people came to the hospital claiming they had the required blood; a lot of precious time was wasted.

As he sat there besides his father in the ICU, he recalled every detail of his childhood. The memory of his mom which he had buried resurfaced. They were happy as a family, the three of them. How did it come to this? Was he going to be alone now?

As he sat there, his head resting on his father’s hand, he felt he was in some dream and wished he could escape to his life of partying and boozing. He recalled the time during the annual blood donation drive in college he had always ridiculed people, bullying them, boasting to his friends that a dying man needed only money to survive.

The nurse came rushing in. They had found a donor. He ran to the blood bank to thank the person.

The donor was already in the process of donating blood so he waited for them to come out. The person who stood in front of him was the nerd Malcolm. Victor had bullied him in college and had taken his notes and had never thanked him in return. But here was Malcolm standing with a tape on his arm trying to avoid eye contact. Victor hugged him and cried. Malcom didn't know how to react. He was a boy who wasn't used to attention and the Mr. Popular was hugging him. Malcom just blurted, “I need the money. I need 100,000. I want to study abroad. Please just transfer it.” With that, he gave him a note with his bank details and left. Victor stood there with the note in his hand, the bank numbers in red. He had bought a life; he was buying his father’s life.  

Which was when another nurse came rushing in. Victor snapped out of his dream. He had fallen asleep. His father had taken a turn for the worst, she said.  As he sat there, in his very real world now, everything seemed to move around with extra speed. The machines beeped, the ventilators made the hissing sound and all he could do was just watch as his father’s heart was giving way. He couldn't buy life this time around. He couldn't force anyone to give the blood required. The money he had was just paper. He had ridiculed people like Malcom who used to line up for blood donation during his college days, discouraged it, and told them that money is all is required even for a dying man.

15 years of living in a bubble came crashing down on him. The doctors tried to stop the heart arresting but all Victor could see now was a flat line. 50,000,000 in his bank account couldn't save his father.

You make the choice, dear reader. What would be an appropriate ending for Victor’s story? His dream or the reality that kicked in on him?

Donate

K & Inputs from Farrokh Jijina.

1/28/2014.

Raising Kids – Battle of the sexes.

Parenting is a tough job. Let me correct that – it is the toughest job in the world. Men and woman have different notions of how to raise kids.

My husband is a hands-on dad, I wouldn't have been happy any other way. He dotes on our little one and does all things a ‘normal’ dad wouldn't do. He loves playing with our son after a grueling day at office; he makes bath time fun and gets him ready to go to school. Needless to say I am the villain of the house even though I spend more time with my son during the day.

But there are certain things that women do differently from men. There is no wrong and right way to do things, just different ways.

1.        Moms, while putting their child to sleep will talk to them, pray with them or sing them a lullaby. Daddies will show them the latest crashes of WRC (World Racing Championship) on YouTube on their smartphones.
2.        Moms will brush their teeth along with the child to show the correct way to oral hygiene; however daddy dearest will wait for him to finish, before he starts his own morning schedule. Because multi-tasking is a sin.
3.        Recently, while seeing the animated movie Monster Inc., we saw that the main character leaves the child back in her bedroom and the child is visibly upset at him leaving. When my son asked what happened, daddy dearest says- oh he is coming back don’t worry. I on the other hand told him the truth that the monster is leaving her and has to go to his home. I know that my son knows he won’t be abandoned by us but he should be ready to recognize that abandonment does happen.
4.        During meal times, patience levels are tested. Moms will ensure that within one hour, the meal is over. Daddy will prolong the meal, sometimes running after the child to make him eat.
5.        Daddy dearest will coax the child to sleep in the afternoon by playing with him and make him super active right before sleeping time; moms will just start the sleep timer on the TV and let technology do the rest. They don’t call me the villain just like that, you know.
6.        We go to a mall. Now this is the true test of a man vs. woman parenting. My son wants that toy car, toy gun, and that red shiny whistle also. I look at him with a straight face and tell him – “You have these at home”. He pleads, hands folded, droopy eyes, sad face the works. I start walking and the show continues. Daddy dearest, on the other hand goes and buys him a small toy, only when he has started joining his hands.
7.        We normally have a good cop, bad cop routine in our home. While dressing up for school, I am generally the one who is the bad cop. Somehow that works because we both want the same thing for him i.e. to be dressed for school. My son insists on one over the other. Sometimes I am the lucky one and he wants only Mommy.

The bottom line is, we both love our son like any set of parents would. We think we know what’s best for him and we try to imitate our parents while we are ourselves are learning parenthood. In his childhood, we try to find our own individual traits. Because of him we have realized our shortcomings and strengths as they are reflected in his personality. So even though we may agree to disagree on a lot of things, my child is loved and he knows it every single day. And that’s what should matter, shouldn't it?

K

7^th January 2014.

Fairy Wings- Non Fiction

The lift door opens and I see you standing there with some bags. We run to you and hug you and somehow the tears don’t stop. That familiar hug and huge cry is all that matters then. I don’t want to ever let you go. But you are struggling with the bags and try to push us away.

“Girls what happened, why are you crying? I had just been gone for a short while”. You push us away and go meet the other family members; everywhere I see everyone’s happy again. Then you come and sit with us and we tell you that it’s time to take your medicines. You look at us confused. “Medicine? What medicine?” And that’s when we notice that there are no dark circles under your eyes any more. You skin is fairer and smoother. No one tells you about what happened a year back.

I hear the familiar ring and my eyes open… and just like that, you are gone again, Ma. I try going back to sleep, but alas you are gone. And just like that, 25th February 2013 became a reality.

When my son wakes up and sometimes his eyes are webbed with eye mucus, while washing his face I tell him that a fairy had come left her wings behind on his eyes. Today, when I woke up, I had my eyes webbed completely. My fairy had probably kissed them shut.

It’s going to be a year and nothing has been able to fill that gap. Neither chocolates or alcohol or even weekend getaways help us forget.

We just have to close our eyes and the last picture of you lying on that stone is what appears.

Hope your dark circles and all your pain is gone; may you smile on us always.

Love you

From The Girls

K

20^th February, 2014.

Love, Unconditionally

So Valentine’s Day is finally over. Thank god.

There are multiple reasons why I don’t believe in this day. One of them being, I grew up.

Let me take you back 16 years, I was a teenager, in love with the man who is now my husband. Let’s call him Mr. H.

In those days, the newspapers used to advertise and ask readers to write in their love message and they would give away some prize. I wrote to the newspaper and my ad was printed and I did win some voucher at some restaurant whose name I can’t recollect. Since we were broke, that was my gift to him. My love was written out in black and white for the world to see, not a care in the world I had. Except maybe it was anonymous, so my parents never knew. Then we decided not to use the coupons but to hang out at our regular joint for Chinese food.

I got all dressed up in pants, if I recollect it right, and a jacket that fitted well. Now, we were teenagers so we didn't know about booking tables or reservations and the likes. So we reached our favorite restaurant Chung Fa at Breach candy, and we thought that we being regulars, we could easily get a place. We waited for something like an hour or more. As a teenager, I had deadlines so I had to be home by 9 but it being Valentine’s Day I had negotiated with my parents a deadline of 10. We got a seat at 9.15 even though we arrived at 8.00. So there I was fuming not at Mr. H, but at the restaurant manager who was also astonished with the crowd that had turned up. Everywhere I looked while waiting, were red roses, red cards and red dresses. From there started my hatred towards wearing red on Valentine’s Day. We finally get a seat and Mr. H was also nervous as he had not expected the evening to go downhill even further. We ordered the usual and the soup took another 30 minutes to arrive. That meant that i had 15 mins to get home. Mr. H was hungry but he understood my dilemma and we parceled the food and I was able to reach home just in time. My mother always used to stay awake till I reached home so I know she must have been tired as she had to go to work the next day and was probably waiting to hit the sack. I felt guilty about making her wait and thus started my hatred for Valentine’s Day.

Thereafter, every Valentine I made it a point, while I was at work, to wear black to protest. For me this became any other day. Then the internet happened and all the mushy quotes and the Valentine messages were all over everyone’s wall. The once written poem in black and white was splashed across timelines and pages. I sometimes miss that part about Valentine, waiting for the newspaper to read how innovative each message could get. The anticipation of winning and the joy on the face of your Valentine as he read it, all lost in the click of a mouse.

Valentine’s Day today has become the most commercialized festival, if one can call it a festival. Advertising with slogans such as “Show her you care with diamonds”; “Seal your love with a strong bond- Platinum rings”; “Make her fall in love with you again” actually  show that the occasion is just about shoving jewelry down a woman’s throat will keep her satisfied. If only it were true.

Love is really a chemical reaction in the brain. Love is all around u. When your are born, then the love of your mother is the first love you experience, followed by that of your father. If you have siblings, then you have the love-hate kind of relationship. Then when you move on in life, relationships come and go then you dedicate your life to loving one person and focusing all your energy on them. But Valentine’s Day only recognizes the love of the last kind instead of the ones that gave you life.

I always believed in one thing about love – a parent’s love for their child is unconditional. All other kinds of love generally have a condition and have to be sealed by law and by religion. If you have been blessed with parental love, then remember to appreciate them instead on the next Valentine’s Day. You never know, they may not have many more Valentine’s Days left.

K

15^th February 2014.

Nurture- Short Story

Even after eight years they still looked out for each other. Their breakfast was always their ‘us- time’. Pheroze talked of his job at the airline as cabin crew... He told Delnaz stories about people who were rude to him and also of people who were thankful. Delnaz enjoyed all that banter. She was a fashion magazine editor. She secretly wanted to be a writer and Pheroze’s stories provided the dose of imagination that she needed to make up stories in her head.

Her job required her to travel. She tried to book a flight on the airline Pheroze worked in so she could spend some time with him on flights. There was no shortage of love between them. All they needed was another person to share the love with.

They loved kids and wanted at least one of their own. They had tried all methods but without any success. They didn't let it affect them.

After much deliberation, they decided to go for adoption. They registered themselves and were placed in the waiting list after all the checks about their character were completed.

They waited and waited. It had been two years.

Pheroze could see the toll the prospect of adoption was taking, on her face. He never left hope. He knew they would make excellent parents and the baby was just waiting for the right time to arrive.

The phone rang one October morning, while they were at the breakfast table. It was the adoption agency. They had a young mother who wanted to give up her unborn child up for adoption. The toast slipped from his hand and he grabbed Delnaz and gave her the news. Her face lit up and they both couldn't stop the tears from flowing. They had to go the next day to meet the woman who was going to give them what they wanted.

They were at the hospital, where Khushi had come for a checkup. As they looked at her, they couldn't help but be alarmed. Khushi was barely 18 years old. She was a teenage mother who had made some bad choices. But she was smiling as she approached them, and held out her hand in order to greet them. They introduced themselves even though the adoption agency would have shown their file to her. Pheroze asked if everything was alright with the child and Khushi nodded. They met several times after that. And then the day came when Khushi went into labor.

The labor was intense. Khushi’s frame was small due to her age. Both Pheroze and Delnaz were pacing outside the delivery room like nervous parents should. They heard a wail and stopped pacing. Their child was here. The doctor came out after what seemed like an eternity and told them it was a girl. They asked about Khushi and how she was, the doctor assured them that she was stable and she would be coming out shortly with the child.

Khushi was tired and woke up late in the evening; both Pheroze and Delnaz had been there for her. The doctor came and certified that everything was normal and the child could be discharged the day after tomorrow. Khushi had two nights with her. It tore her heart that the child she wanted, she had to give up. That night she held her. Oh how stupid she had been to fall in love with that moron Rohinton. He had promised her the world; made false promises. Not once had he inquired about her health or that of the baby in the last nine months. She held her love in her arms, and imagined her life with her child only if she had her after 5 years or so. She was having second thoughts and wanted to keep her. The day of discharge arrived. Khushi held her for the last time. She didn't want to let go but she knew Delnaz had waited for this day more than her. Her child had chosen Delnaz .She kept her promise and gave up her love once again.

Such is the way of life. Neither Abortion or Adoptions are not always so simple. Adoption is not always about whose child you receive. It’s also about giving up a child who you want to hold on to but can’t.

Nurture

K

1/16/2014

Pure Happiness

Have you ever experienced PURE Happiness, the unadulterated feeling of joy?

Recently, I attended my son’s first official sports day at his school. The week before, he had been excitedly practicing running at his school, at the playground, even at home, running from one room to another. As a mother, my worry was primarily, he injuring himself, so I cautioned him to always run in a straight line i.e. not to overstep into the other contestants’ tracks. My son, of all three years, understood but never acknowledged it.

So when we reach the venue of the sports day, he gets overwhelmed with the huge crowd of anxious parents and charged up classmates. We are seated separately, so that makes him more insecure. However the celebrations start and he is enjoying the band playing and he watches the balloons fly away as a mark of commencement of his first Sports Day.

I see a lot of parents trying to grab the perfect seat on the ground to catch a glimpse of their child. However, once the race starts, there is some excitement in the air as the crowd cheers for every child unknowingly and makes each one feel more confident about facing a bigger audience. I watch as my son starts his stretching exercise, which I am sure his teachers must have shown him in the previous week. Then comes the time of the race and he takes his place in the last row, waving out to me. I indicate to him to listen to the coach when he says go instead. Since he is only three years old, he is caught up in the energy of the ground. I am silently praying to god to just keep him safe, because I really don’t care if he doesn't win - only want him injury free.

So there he is waving to me and the coach indicates to the class to get set and go! And he runs, he runs as if he doesn't care if he is going to win. He runs and all I can do is watch how he maintains his pace in his own track, just like I had told him and he WINS. He comes third. That moment when he is running and he wins, that exact moment is when I felt pure happiness, as if the surrounding cheering parents meant nothing, as if everything was in slow motion and in that one minute I have experienced so much of joy. Then he looks up at me and shows me the thumbs up sign indicating that he is also happy. But for him, the win is not important, he got to run in his favorite shoes and with his heart and that’s what freedom felt like for him. As I look back and ponder, even if he didn't win the race I would be very happy because I was a part of his freedom. I was part of his joy and he was happy because he loved doing what his heart desired.

Before the race started I didn't think there was going to be any winners, as I felt the children were too young to be exposed to competition. But I realized that even though the rest of the children didn't win the certificate, they were still jumping and running around with their friends. Competition was only in the minds of the parents I guess and never among the kids. This may change once they grow up, but I hope I can help him in his failures as much as I did rejoice in his success.

K

3^rd January, 2014.

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To vote or forever remain Silent

India is going through what we call a political turmoil. It wants to change. It wants to be a super power. But from the time it has got independence till date, not much can be said about the progress of India. Yes, we have expanded. We have built monorails, metros, bridges, dams, cities with high rises but at the cost of corruption. Every month or so there is some minister who is caught in a scam of not just a few lakhs of rupees but a crores of rupees, all in the guise of development. I don’t want to bore you with the details of scams but let’s face it - India is fed up. It is grabbing the monster of corruption and brutally assaulting it with all its might. The people have spoken and either we change or forever keep silent.

Let me give you an ABC of the political situation in India. My view only! We have three major parties campaigning, one is the Congress which already has lost the election in the capital and has failed miserably in garnering any support. Then there is the BJP which has a lot of experience in politics, both good and bad. And lastly we have the AAP which was formed one year ago by a common man fed up with the system. So that’s the ABC of Politics i.e. AAP, BJP, and Congress. Now out of the three, only AAP and BJP have the power to make the changes as the ruling Congress has proved beyond doubt that not only is it incapable of managing the country, it can’t manage its own ministers.

The nation currently is divided among these two groups. Social media is feeding this frenzy. Discussion about these two parties’ head honchos is being talked about more than Bill Clinton’s affairs gone public. At parties, coffee breaks, office lunch’s people are clearly divided between these two parties. Now if only someone would have used so much energy we would have started cleanup operation much faster. Even Indians residing outside India are jumping on the wagon, even though any changes in policy may not make any more changes for them. But let’s appreciate the fact that their love for the country still remains.

Due to this passionate environment, a new set of fanatics has risen from this sleepy country.

The definition of a fanatic is - A person marked or motivated by an extreme, unreasoning enthusiasm, as for a cause.

Earlier politics was only about getting a holiday and going to vote. Now it’s about the right to vote. People from all levels of society are scrutinizing every minister, every law, exposing malpractices. People have formed groups and now are so fanatical about their candidate that even if the candidate does something wrong they are willing to overlook it.

The bottom line is this we all want India to change but our personal differences may win again. History has shown that politicians feed on the divide and rule policy. Earlier we were divided by religion and now we are divided by politics. Only when we realize that standing with each other and questioning each candidate will we be able to make this country worth living for our future generations.

Whom do I support? Well that’s another blog all together.

K

28^th December 2013.

Remorse- Short Story

Rakesh had killed many times.  He had no remorse. His job required him not to have any.  But this time he was going to plan it.

Anita, his wife of 20 years had been lying to him. He had seen her with him. Things hadn’t been the same since their only daughter moved to a boarding school two years ago. There was no one to take care of her here and they had no choice but to send her off to a distance place to be raised with better values than the ones already running in her veins.

Anita used to be his strength and now was his weakness. He had confronted her about the man she had been seeing. She told him that they were just friends. Friends didn't walk with hands entwined. She promised she wouldn't meet him but here she was again, crossing the railways tracks with him, in broad daylight without a care in the world. She was mocking him on his turf.

Rakesh knew that she always took the morning local at 6.00am to go to Andheri, the place she worked. For that she had to leave early from her house and cross the tracks, even though there was a foot over bridge just five minutes away. He had repeatedly warned her not to cross tracks in the morning as there was low visibility, but she had paid no heed.

Rakesh had been following her every day for the last month. He calculated and recalculated the time that she crossed the tracks, every delay taken into account. He checked and rechecked the times of the trains that passed. She always used to wear headphones listening to the morning arti (hymns) on radio while walking. He waited for the roster to change for him to get the morning shift. Today was that day.

It was a cold January morning. He had bought her a dark brown sari the night before. It was their 21^st anniversary. She had smiled and accepted it and said that she would wear it the next day to work. He went to work early. Before leaving he watched her sleep and tried to capture the moment as this could be the last day he was seeing her. He left without a sound, signed the muster at the office and started his work. He had to finish some paperwork from the day before; he wrapped that up quickly and took his seat in the train.

He didn't want to raise any suspicion in case there was an investigation. It would be hard, not impossible though to convince the cops, if he was the driver of the ill-fated train. He could see the headlines in the newspapers “Railway driver kills his own”. Most would dismiss it as destiny or a case of bad luck.

 Rakesh took his seat as the guard at the back of the train and signaled to the driver Kunal in front that he was ready. The train started crossing stations. Soon it was his station, where he lived. He knew he could delay the train to the exact moment. He called Anita. She was on her way. The train approached his station and halted. Before the train departed, he had to delay the train. He radioed Kunal ahead that he wasn’t feeling too well and just wanted to get a lemon juice from the railway stalls. He quickly disembarked and went to the stall and wasted three minutes. He looked at his watch. It was time. He ran quickly and signaled again to Kunal to start the train. As the train approached the tracks, he could see only two or four people trying to run across. And then he saw her in the distance. She had her headphones on so she couldn’t hear the train, something he had warned her against. She made her way towards the tracks, crossing one track at a time and finally to the one he presumed she would be on. Since the track had a turn, he couldn’t see if she had reached the track his train was on but he heard Kunal blow the horn and he knew that it must have been to signal whoever was crossing, to get out of the way. His compartment approached the curve and his radio beeped and Kunal said. “Some idiotic people are still trying to cross the tracks so early in the morning, I just missed someone” As the radio stopped crackling, he looked towards the tracks behind and saw Anita and she saw Rakesh.  Besides her was a stranger who had just pulled her back in time.

She was saved and now Rakesh felt remorse.

*Remorse*

K

1/9/2014.

Marriage is a gamble

This is a very popular saying among my friends. If love works, it’s for life or only for tonight.

It starts from our childhood. Parents brainwash kids into thinking that marriage is a measure of success. They use words and phrases like “settle down”, “responsibility” “value of money”. As soon as he is of marriageable age, which is again up for debate, the parents start dropping hints of settling down, playing with grandchildren, tell your wife this and that and so on. In India, marriage can be arranged like a business transaction by doing thorough research on the groom or bride to be. It this practice has its own merits and can be a success if both parties commit to it and are open to new experiences. But it’s still a gamble. The person may turn out exactly the way they portrayed or they may have a totally hidden personality.

Marriages are a societal requirement if you want to have kids or be legally committed to another. If we look at the basic thought behind marriages, we know it’s simply two people enjoying each other’s company, sharing the same dreams, wanting to leave a legacy of oneself in the form of children, wanting to grow old together. So why do most marriages fail now a days. I can write a hundred reasons right from adultery to simply growing apart. As humans we crave for love, and when life takes over, with all its trials and turbulence, love takes a back seat. And that, I think, is why I believe marriages fail. Because we forget the main reason why we wanted to share our lives together. But sometimes marriages also end due to the wrong judgment made by an individual about their object of affection. Those are the more painful ones, but in our wrong judgment lies our maturity. We need to simply accept that yes we misjudged someone and move on and not constantly doubt your judgment of others.

Marriages play a huge role in your self-esteem and sometimes your careers. When you are single, you can have your moments of loneliness. Then you see your married friends share an invisible bond, see them finishing off each other’s sentences. In some companies, married workers are preferred over non married workers as they reflect a sense of commitment and focus. But again, this is very subjective as I have a lot of single friends who are go-getters and in fact spend more time in the office and are eligible for higher bonuses simply because they could get more work done.

I always believed that supporting a person at the bottom of the ladder, strengths the bond like no other. When my bachelorette friends are looking for potential spouses, they always put money as one of the criteria to be fulfilled at the top. Some say that’s being practical and there is no harm in that. Here’s my two paisa worth and I know some may disagree. Comments are welcome:  A marriage should only be entered into if you want to commit your time and love and you need companionship.

If I had a daughter and I was searching for a groom for her, this is truly what I would look for:

1.       He knows her in and out, her whims, her moods and dislikes.

2.       He can provide her the basic comforts.

3.       He loves her and has no prior history of cheating her.

If he didn't have a stable job or if he was still struggling with a job, would not make him less worthy. If he were struggling to fulfill his dreams and she was there to support him, that would strengthen their relationship more than a vacation taking in Maldives. This is what I would advise her.

Today we educate our daughters and make them independent then we only tell them to search for settled guys. Don’t we trust our girls to manage home and work? What is the point of educating girls when all they have to do is marry into money? Why should the sole responsibility of being the bread winner lie only on the boys? It’s time this social attitude changed , because we can scream on top of our voices about equality but this basic right to work and provide for the family can also be job of the woman of the house.

I think we can have successful marriages if we have a genuine reason to get married. We shouldn't get married if your parents want you to, or all your friends are getting married or you are just plain lonely. When you’re truly ready to commit to the person you have to be accepting to the person’s vices as well. You need to see the person when they are fuming red with rage, when they fail, how they treat others who are ‘social inferiors’. You need to know what makes them tick and what is that makes them whole. Only then can you seriously think of committing to share your life with that person.

It takes two to make or break a relationship. Accept that. Marriage is not a compulsion, it doesn't make or break you but it is supposed to complete you.

K

27^th December 2013.

Survivor

He raped her repeatedly for a full day. Then he tossed her in front of a government hospital. She didn't see his face; he had masked her eyes. Yes, he was a rapist but not a murderer.

The next day the headlines screamed “Raped” in bold letters but now everyone was used to these headlines.  They just turned the pages as if nothing had happened. But for Tracy, life had changed.

Due to excessive bleeding, she was moving in and out of conscious. The doctors worked on her furiously, seething with rage inside. One doctor in particular wondered how two men born from the same species could be so different: The rapist who used her and threw her away and he who was trying to save her.

The bleeding stopped; Tracy cried a loud piercing cry. Her nightmares had become a reality. One of the doctors, Dr. Anderson probed her about her family. Tracy said she had a mother who lived on 3^rd Avenue. She regained her composure and was able to give her statement to the police. Her mother came and she cried again. She couldn't recall when someone had grabbed her from behind while she was on her way back home. No part of her wanted to relive that moment but it was vital information if she wanted him to be caught. She described the route to the police officer as much as she could remember. The police officer had seen too many cases of these and knew that if not caught he would strike again.

It was a month, since that day. The day she wanted to forget but could not. She puked even at the thought of food. But this time she felt a strange feeling inside her. She felt a life may have been planted within her. She puked again.

Her worst fear was staring at her in her face. The home pregnancy test confirmed her fears. The hospital had taken precautions they had said. They had given her pills to take. Then how could this happen? Why did she feel that god was laughing at her? Wasn't it enough that she felt unwashed even after having a bath three times a day? Wasn't it enough that even a gaze from a stranger repulsed her? No, she thought, she would not keep the child. . But she had been brought up with values, values which condemned her from taking another’s life. Her mother told her maybe she could see now what the rapist looked like if she decided to keep the child. That night she tossed and turned but the thought of facing her agonize r, gave her new hope.

She took care of it. She had the medicines, she bore the pain. She had him.

The labor lasted for 8 hours. But she didn't cry. She wanted to see him. She hated him already. The nurses bought him close to her but she didn't want to touch him. In the middle of the night, he wailed and wailed and the nurses didn't heed him. She staggered out of bed and held him for the first time. She looked at him. He was crying but he was innocent. He had her eyes and her nose. She tried to see any unique features but she saw none. The more she saw him up close, the more he resembled her.  She cried for the first time in nine months. She cried because she had to give him up the next day but now her heart wanted to keep him. Father Francis had signed him up for adoption at the local orphanage and there was no one who wanted a rapist’s child. But now the child in her hand was hers and not that of the rapist. 

She had survived that day, she had survived the full nine months and she was going to survive motherhood. She would raise him to be a better person that his father could ever be. She was a survivor.

K

1/16/14

Top ten professions that the world cannot do without

The world is filled with teachers, doctors, architecture, cost accountants, bankers and advertisers business man selling various products. We definitely need them and every parent would like their child to grow up into any one of these secured careers. However, there are certain professions that the world cannot do without as these professions add the beauty and meaning to this dreary world but are considered less secure.

1. Writers: Of course the first one has to be writers. Imagine all the newspapers talking of only the financial news or crimes. Feature writers are so very much needed. We need them to fill out the spaces between government news and crime news.
2. Insurance Advisers: When we take up our first job in any sector, we are also approached by insurance agents who want us to plan for the future, plan for our retirement or even for our loved ones after our passing away. I think these people have the right intention but are often misunderstood due to the commission based job and the hassle of claiming the money. But they are required, if you want to be independent in your late years and not be dependent on your loved ones financially.
3. Pastry chefs: Ok I know all the chefs may be offended that food is more essential and that their profession is what the world needs. I agree to the same and now this is one of the more secure professions of our times. But many a times, we discourage anyone wanting to be a pastry chef. I need my desserts. You can feed me vegetables, you can feed me diet food but I need my dessert to complete my meal. They literally add sweetness to our lives.
4. Sportsmen: If every child was conditioned to grow up to be a banker or a lawyer or into any secured line of work, then the country would have no playgrounds. Children would only concentrate on studying and would be obese due to lack of exercise. Even chess or indoor games would be used to measure only the IQ of the child and nothing else.
5. Defense services: Very rarely do we find civilians without any defense personnel in their family joining the defense forces. I could be wrong on this but generally if your father or grandfather was in the army then the children are more inclined to move into the defense services and also because the family is more familiar with the nuances of army life. There could be more people inclined to the defense forces if our children were given that option and our fears of keeping them protected and within our horizon wasn't more overpowering.
6. Artiste: When we talk of an artiste, it a huge umbrella. We have sketchers, painters, musicians, singers, actors, graffiti artists, fashion designers, painters on glass, disc jockey etc. So if a child wants to pursue any one of these options it is immediately met with dismissal. These professions are less secure i.e. no monthly income. But if we didn't have these artistes amongst us would we understand the depth of color, the emotion in a singers voice, the trauma enacted based on real life scenarios? Imagine how dreary would our lives be if we didn't listen to our favorite song when we felt blue, or if we couldn't express our emotions through various colors and strokes. Our clothes would be completely mismatched and our sense of fashion would only reflect in the type of cars we purchased and what seat color it would be.
7. Animators: Some people would not agree with me on this one particular profession. But what’s life without Tom and Jerry? Imagine not being able to see the droopy eyes of the cat in Shrek, or watching the magic in Santa Claus. In fact because of the animators, our kids have imaginations; they show animals which are extinct, they show animals talking, they believe in fairies and genies, make wishes keeping those characters in mind. So if we didn't have this industry the advertisements shown on TV would be mere placards of black and white selling their products. The children would never sing along with their favorite cartoon character and never know what a wicked witch looks like or what it is to be compassionate to your friends. Truly the animation industry brings joys to the heart of the children and adults alike, a world of fantasy to escape to.
8.  Environmentalists: We are so busy in our day to day lives that we don’t seem to worry about things that plague our world. Where would our world be if we didn't have environmentalists who were not fighting for saving the rain forest or planting more trees or adopting animals? Would we know what dolphins look like if they didn't have protesters protecting them and ensuring laws are passed for the same?
9. Photographers: If only we could capture all our memories in our head and rewind them when we are old and need to reminisce. But this is one profession which has grown leaps and bounds. It’s not only about the wedding photographer anymore; its wildlife photography, its nature and finding the hidden creatures and their emotions and capturing them at the right moment which makes this the profession what we need.
10. Comedy writers or stand-up comedians: The reason why I have listed this separately as against combining it with the artiste tag is because I feel that it takes a lot of effort to make someone laugh. We all are going through life’s struggles so tragedy comes more easily to us. But to laugh in the face of adversity is phenomenal. To consistently search for humor in grim situations and to turn it around requires a lot of talent and should be always wanted and appreciated.

So my appeal is to every parent to let the kids explore territories which are less secure, have more risk but are essential for the world to work as a well-oiled machine.

There could be more professions that I may have missed out purely to my limited knowledge of the world, but I would love to hear about it from you. Let me know how passionate you are about a particular profession.

K

November 26, 2013.

Muse

She was a star. Everyone loved her. Her looks could melt anyone’s heart. It was no wonder she had 10 million followers.

An actress by profession and a singer by choice, Tara was every director’s dream. She had been acting from the age of 15, so she knew the long hours took a toll on her, but she had me and I didn't care about the laugh lines and the worry lines.

It was an award night and she was nominated for the Best Actress award again. She had one live performance as well. She came running to me. She had been crying, as she didn't win the award. She cried not only because she lost the award but also because she had given up her love yet again, in pursuit for the prize. Now she was left with nothing but me.

I saw her again the next day, without a trace of the angst of last night. But her eyes never lied. As she looked at me with eyes wide open, all I could do was be lost in them. I understood her. I relished those lips that she offered to me, her lipstick doing no justice to the already pink lips. Her cheeks were as white and rosy from the winter and her breath on me gave me the warmth I needed. She had to run; the director was waiting for her.

Tara loved all things bright - bright clothes, vibrant cars. She also loved not so bright men. Every hero in the industry, married or unmarried had made passes at her. But she was smarter than them. She used them to get the juicy roles, leaving her contemporaries biting their nails. She knew how to twist her hero’s ego, without giving them what they wanted. She laughed and told me all her secrets. I loved her even more.

Then one night she came to my house, badly bruised. She had been in a fight with her current toy-boy and he had slapped her, leaving a mark from his ring. This was the first time I saw her scared. She tried to run away from him but he had grabbed her and tried to hit her again. She hit him in his groin and ran for the door. I wrapped a blanket around her as she narrated the incident, her shivering body felt at ease.

She said “Look at me; I can’t go out like this. I can’t let the world see Tara like this”. She felt broken. The bruise was swelling; I applied some ice to her bruises.

 I hugged her for the first time and told her “Tara, I love you but I can’t heal you this time”.

 “What do you mean?” she said.

“Tara you need to make a complaint, he has been hitting you far too long. You need the world to see this. He has to be punished.”

She cried. Without a word I grabbed her face and told her “You are beautiful, my little one, but you need to be strong”. She held me close for a long time and finally drifted off to sleep on my sofa.

The next morning as we were heading out to work, Tara held my hand and said “I don’t know how I can ever repay you; you are more than my make-up man. You know me inside out. You hide my bruises but you can see my pain; you wipe the tears from my eyes but it’s you who cries inside. I looked at her and interrupted “But, I know you have to keep up pretenses’, you have to play your part. You can talk to me about the men that you are dating but you can never be mine. Correct?” She smiled back.

I will always love her. She is my muse and I am her slave and we will remain forever entwined.

Muse

K

6^th January 2014.

Love vs. Money.

This is one of the most difficult choices one makes in their lifetime, because the consequences of choosing one over the other have to be accepted for the rest of one’s life. If we choose love over money, we will be craving for things which are beyond our reach. If we choose money over love we will have to face heartaches. We choose money over health, because we always take life for granted and are not afraid of death.

Let’s look at love.  Love between parents, siblings, spouses or partners is essential for us. Without love everything you do in life, everything you achieve in life could always be inadequate. How different would our lives be if we didn't have the ones we love? Imagine getting a huge promotion but not having someone to celebrate it with. Imagine missing your children’s’ growing up years while you were toiling away in a foreign land. Imagine you coming home to an empty house, after a particular grueling day at work. Imagine.

Let’s look at money. Money is essential for physical survival. Sometimes for mental survival when depression sets in and you need to get professional help. Money helps the sick get better. Money helps to put food on the table. Money is required for you to have a basic education. To make money, you need money. Can we live without money? No, the beggar on the street is proof of that.

Another phenomena I can’t seem to understand is of a single woman who wants to commit to a relation but will only look for a man who is financially well off. In India, we have this concept of arranged marriages where the man and woman meet over coffee and decide whether they want to live their life together. As crazy as it seems, this has more chances of success than the “love marriage” concept. Probably because the mind is used more than the heart, questions of financial independence, whether the girl will want to work after marriage etc. are common and are required to be asked. I know quite a few woman who are strong individuals and independent but will reject a man purely because he doesn't earn as much as her. Marriage can’t be a rosy picture all the time, you have to struggle and if you have someone who you can share your struggle with, then why should the man be rejected for that?  If you loved the man wouldn't you have made the sacrifices for him? Then why do single woman wanting a meaningful relationship run away at the slightest sign of insecurity.

More important than love or money for me would be health. Without good health neither will you be able to work or provide for the ones you love nor will you be able to truly love from your heart.

So how do we strike a balance between the two? Some don’t need to make this choice and can have both, some choose money over love. To live a life without love is not to have lived at all.

So even though you may have loved and lost, understand that now you know who to seek for in life.

Even though you may have been cheated and robbed of your money, you are more cautious and wiser.

It’s not necessary to always choose one over the other; we can have both or none and still find happiness. For example when you volunteer at various charitable institutions you don’t do it for money or love. It’s probably done to lighten the heart or to acknowledge someone else suffering and empathize with them.

 I think that we can have both. If we compromise on our wants, accept our choices and patiently wait for our turn in the rain, we will be rewarded with the rainbow. 

K

November 25, 2013.