Love...

Sarah Jessica Parker had to think about the three dots that follow this word but unlike her, this special four-letter word is still a mystery to me. It is something that I dread something that I am scared of, something I get nightmares of... and hey-hey do I hear you say Freak!! Well whatever you may call me the truth is that it sure is intimidating.

What the heck is love? Why does it make such a difference if you are not into it? When will people stop telling you that it is the most important part of your life? How do you tell them to stop doing that? Who is there who never ever speaks about it? Where should I go to find answers to all of these?

See for yourself the effect of this lunatic thing on my sane state of mind. A thing which can bring out all 6 words of question (What-Why-When-How-Who-Where) at the same time. I am surprised at the way people behave when they are in it. I can not understand when they say it makes you blind and your heart is not in your control. If it actually does all that then isn't it a disease and one should eradicate it from scratch? Then why in the sweet name of Lord people don't find a vaccination for it?

All this and I guess I already know the answer to this. I muse over the fact that I have known the answer about all this crap since the very start. It is because we have been born with it as an inbuilt defect in our system. You can try a lot to shake it away and tear it apart from yourself but you see you can not.

Now, I know this that this post of mine will be branded stupid, naive, amateurish and many more things. People might even argue over it. But as always I don't care. I don't give a damn to what people think. You see, after a long long time I got something to write about and I couldn't have given away the chance to write. Not even after spending 10 tiring hours at office. Thanks to Carrie Bradshaw, Charlotte York, Miranda Hobbes and Samantha Jones to bring me back.

So it is L.O.V.E and what do I hear goodfellas - L is for the way you Look at me... music notes...

From Chaudhary to Hattori

Couple of weeks back I was visiting my uncle’s family in Pune. With my mind pretty much made up to enjoy the 3 day long weekend. The laziness had taken over me completely.

There seemed nothing much better than lying on the couch, with TV remote in one hand – lazily switching between the channels and a large mug of hot cocoa in another. While abiding by my pledge to chill out, I was moodily surfing through the various channels. Well, honestly it was more of button pressing and less of interest in shows. I then encountered "Mahabharat" (the old one, the one with "Main Samay hoon..." and not the shit that Ekta Kapoor is serving the Indian audience these days). Apparently, Fox History has taken interest in airing the age old TV Show. It used to be one of the shows that kept me glued before the TV screen during the childhood days. I never used to miss even one single instance of it… starting from the chants of the Bhagwad Geeta shloka – “Yada yada hi dharmasya…” to the end of the casting display. So it was but obvious that my finger stopped pressing those buttons. I sat there enthralled and excited. Though in the times like nowadays, those TV shows look stupid with age-old animation techniques, weird makeup and fancy dresses, but I still found my eyes stuck at the screen.

Either I was so intently watching the saga or my kid cousin is so expert in tip toeing her way through her scattered toys that I didn’t realize that she was just standing next to my ear. I here give her all the credit for having such mighty screaming voice that can tear away something inside one’s head totally apart. She screamed and screamed and screamed till I switched off the TV and looked at her in complete despair. Alas! Her screams continued. And when I was looking at her with an “Oh 2-year old… please tell me what you wish for… I would die fulfilling thy wish” kind of an expression, my aunt came to my rescue and familiarized me with the mannerisms of the self-imposed most important being in the family – my cousin (yes the 2 year old who converses in her own gibberish, thinks she can break the wall with her little fist, the toy breaker etc. etc… phew I can’t stop at listing her qualities… and before anyone of you points your accusing finger at me, let me clarify that I loved each one of the little tyke’s tantrums). Anyways, the point was that it was time for her favorite cartoon show and I was not letting her watch that (At that time… with a split headache I so deeply wished that Oh Lord, please give the power to converse to each and every child as soon as they are born… please).

It turned out that the show was “Ninja Hathodi”. I don’t know about you guys, but it was the first time I ever heard of this show and found the name quite amusing. Had heard of Ninja Turtles and as far as I could figure it out “Hathodi” was a word of Hindi language that meant Hammer. I couldn’t make out head or tail of what was going on. After Googling about it a bit, I realized it was not “Hathodi” but Hattori. The actuality of the show is some what this:

“10-year old Ken (Ken'ichi) Mitsoba is an average kid who goes to elementary school, and struggles with his studies. Meanwhile from ninja land aka Land of the Ninjas, a little ninja named Kanzo Hattori comes, and befriends Ken'ichi. Hattori is now a part of the mitsoba family along with his brother Shinzou, and his ninja dog, Shishi-Maru. Hattori helps Ken'ichi with his problems, and constantly keeps an eye on him, as a good friend” – Taken from Wikipedia

“Amusing things, kids watch these days” was the first thought and then I was zig zagging amongst the favorite comic and cartoon characters of my childhood days – Chacha Chaudhary, Pinky, Billu, Naagraj, Super Commando Dhruv, Ducktales, Talespin, Mickey, Tom n Jerry… but then all of them are amusing too. My parents would have thought the same thing about what I used to watch and I guess I too must have given them similar headaches quite many times. There are new names now – Hattori, Pikachu, Ben 10, Richie Rich, Popeyye, Naruto, Xiaolin and list continues.

Old are the days, but similar are the ways. The Gen Y (I am not sure but I think that is what the kids these days are called after the era when we were termed as Gen X) is busy whiling away time on the TV, Computer and Xboxes. One of my 7-year old cousin (yes, yes… I have lots of kid cousins) did not know what are games like “Ice-Water”, “Nadi-Pahad”, “Help”, “Chain” etc. I was aghast by his response; these were the games we loved in our primary school days.

Phew… after reading all this cribbing from start to this point, I feel like a old grown granny of some sort. NO… NO… what the heck happened… where did I loose my sanity? I guess I am still sane… the only problem was that it does give a feeling of growing old when one reminisces about the personal childhood favorites, as they are now extinct and no kid talks about them. They have new things to muse over and pass their time with.

Taj, Gun, Blood and Nanny!

After reading what Mayu had to say on her Chit Chatni, I just wanted to add some more to it. As she has put up something intimidating in plain and simple words, yet I find only couple of people looking to it. The problem is not that she hasn’t spoken on a public platform, but the problem is that there aren’t many people who would have actually acted like the way she did. The most common reaction would have been to shout at the policeman and make a run for the train. I don’t know but yes, probably I too would have done the same thing ( :) a self realization! )

Anyways, that was just a part of it. The impacts on Taj and Trident is hardly any, both of them are insured and would be up and running in no time. But, the impact on those present there or those who have suffered personal loss the blood bath is a permanently tattooed heartache. While the whole ordeal was going on, the young Ajmal Kasab was watched on national television captured in camera during his (brave according to himself) act of inhumanity. But most of India was still moving according to its daily routine – offices, schools, shops – all functioning like nothing has changed. Of course, I don’t expect that day to be “the day the earth stood still”, but to mention this was somehow making the whole thing look like an irony, which most of the writers have done (??).

Personally, I pay homage and deep respect to the people who couldn’t survive the whole ordeal. My heart goes out to them. Here I would like to make the special mention of the Rabbi couple, who are now survived by their two children – the older one who is suffering from a terminal illness and the younger 2-year old who was rescued by his Indian Nanny, Sandra Samuel.

This earth has lots of religions surviving over it. After these attacks and in fact several others, the Islamic community has been looked down upon as the one spreading terror. But is it so? Ask the meaning of terror to the Christians who were slain in Orissa few months back. Ask Rahul Raj’s father whom he thinks is responsible for the untimely death of his son. Ask anyone about what they despise or what they think is terror… you’ll get a different answer each time.

The point here is, that the wrong is not in a single community or region, but the wrong is in everybody. Few overcome that wrong with good in themselves and some let the wrong out because of something bad (now, I don’t know what bad… but probably any bad).

Well, enough of the philosophy and lecture. I know I can’t make a solid point here, but I still wanted to speak all this out aloud. What touched me most is that India is still the same after all these attacks at its integrity. And I think it is time for the example that I had preserved for so long…

The incident is dated a month back. According to my daily routine, I take a three-wheeler to my office daily in the morning. Now, the place where I have to get down is spelled – “Thavrekere Road” but is pronounced in several ways by the people in Bengaluru – “Taavarkara”, “Taavarkere”, “Tavvarekar” etc. etc. – the correct one even I don’t know till now, though I end up using the third option often. Now, on the day I’m talking about, I hailed an auto and asked the driver to take me to “Tavvarekar Road”. Now this dear fellow was only proficient in Kannada, which unfortunately is no proficiency of mine. Still I tried my level best to explain to him where I needed to go. After a tiresome 5 minutes of explanation, the driver looked at me and smiled, hit his forehead with his hand and looked at me as if I was someone real stupid and said.. “Ai yo… Taavarkere Road”… and signaled me to sit inside. The most important lesson I learned that day was, even if two people don’t speak the same language, still they can communicate effectively, what is required is a little patience.

Then why do such misunderstandings leading to terror take place? Why don't people sit and solve the problems they face? Why do they always have to take up the gun and shout? Why??

P.S: Thanks to Ankit for his support regarding this post, and also to Mayukhini - for posting that incident. :)