Let The Good Times Roll Magazine

Why You Need The AAP To Do Well

noreply@blogger.com (Test The Waters) — Sat, 12 Oct 2013 11:22:00 +0000

By Sahil Mehta

The Election Commission has just announced the dates for the assembly elections in 5 states. Scheduled to be conducted from mid-November to early December, these elections will serve as an appetizer to gauge the mood of the nation before the impending General Elections.

Rajasthan, Mizoram, Chattisgarh, Madhya Pradesh are all set to go to polls. Chattisgarh and Madhya Pradesh should see the BJP successfully retain power. Shivraj Singh Chauhan and Raman Singh have both done reasonable well for their states.

Rajasthan has historically never voted for the party in power. We (Rajasthanis) have alternated parties for at least the last two decades. And while a few of my friends currently living in Jaipur tell me that Ashok Gehlot has done some real vote-winning work by giving everything for free to the poor (Medicines, education, etc. etc.) I 'm still going for a BJP win.

Mizoram is all but a given win for the Congress with no real national party having much presence there.

There, then, remains the intriguing question about the assembly elections in Delhi. Sheila Dixit is the incumbent for the last 15 years, and the opinion, from the few Delhi people I know, is that she will remain as such for 5 more years.

I for one do not believe a Congress sweep is hardly a given this time around. There has been some development in Delhi in terms of infrastructure. However the rising rate of crime against women (which is not really in the hands of the Delhi government, since Delhi police is not accountable to the CM), the rising electricity prices, a vicious opposition, and charges of graft against Mrs. Dixit all set the stage for a tumultuous election!

Throw into the mix a social activist turned politician by the name of Arvind Kejriwal, and a party that calls itself the Aam Aadmi Party, and we in the words of the revered Ravi Shastri, "are in for a firecracker of a contest"! To be perfectly honest, the BJP hasn't done much in these last 4 years or so to make Mrs. Dixit uncomfortable! Arvind Kejriwal and the AAP have taken the task on themselves. And they have made a nuisance out of themselves with such gusto! They have been in your face, attacking both the state and central ruling parties at the slightest whiff of a scandal.

Of course when you make too much noise, some people are bound to get pissed off. The question then is whether they made the right noises in the right places!

While only time will tell us that, here are a few reasons that you should hope that they do well!

5. For the very first time, or at least first time in a long long time, there is a bunch of people who've come together to try and clean up our political system. While these are definitely not aam aadmis, coming from various spheres of social activism, they are as close to being educated middle class, (people like you and me) as politicians have ever been! They could be a beacon for hope for a generation which has repeatedly been told that you are the future and then shunted to the side!

4. The AAP is a well intention-ed party, fielding candidates on the basis of a procedure which tries to reward merit. They're trying to break the politics of identity and community. All those who complain about same caste marriage phenomenon should at least be thankful to these people. Think about it!

3. It can't get any worse! I mean come on, given how things have been going in the last few years, it is improbable that these people will do worse than our current or past leaders. Your worst case would be that things continue the way they have been over the last few years, which is to say getting worse rapidly! And frankly while everything they say may not be practical or sensible, some of the policies and issues the AAP talks about really do make sense. And we really could do with a less corrupt system! 2. They have balls! For Arvind Kejriwal to come out and say that he will contest in the constituency from which Sheila Dixit stands is bold, considering the fact that he will likely get crucified! But you have to appreciate the courage. What India needs today is men/women of steel who are willing to do things the right way rather than the easy way!

1. Because even a decent result for the the AAP will strike fear into the hearts of other political parties and just might make them clean up their act a bit. There's nothing a politician loves more than the power that comes with his seat. If you take it away, he might actually take notice of public sentiment.

It would be naive to think that the AAP will win the assembly elections in Delhi. But if they can snatch even 10-15 seats in the 70 seat legislative, it would be a real morale booster for us disparate people looking for hope!

A lot of people really don't like Kejriwal and hence the party. I heard him being called a lot of nasty things. There's a good chance you might be one of them. But what you need to realize is that there are more people than Kejriwal in this adventure.

And when you're caught between the devil and the deep sea, there are no right choices. The AAP is as good a bet as any if you want change!

I'm praying for a miracle in Delhi. May be you should too!

If You Weren’t Afraid

noreply@blogger.com (Test The Waters) — Mon, 03 Jun 2013 06:35:00 +0000

By Priya Singh

I came across this line while reading the book ‘Lean In: Women, Work, and The Will to Lead’. It says:

‘So please ask yourself: What would I do if I weren’t afraid? And then go do it.’

While it may mean different things to different people, it gives a common message to all.

“Confront your fears”.

Now the real deal: What would you do if you weren’t afraid?

I was reading about this on a Q&A site and could find all kind of answers, from falling off a big cliff somewhere, to selling everything.

For someone, it may mean sleeping alone at night, taking up swimming lessons, voicing yourself at your workplace, eating a complete meal with your parents, being quite for an entire hour, etc. etc.

It might sound silly but it means something entirely different to me.

What would I do if I weren’t afraid? Well, I’ll go on a road trip all alone to the most haunted places in the world. While you may make the mistake of thinking I am afraid of haunted sites, that’s actually not the case.

Instead of the places, I am afraid of the people. I am afraid of the people judging me. I am afraid of my safety in my own land. And most of all, I am afraid of those demotivators who are lined up, waiting eagerly for one reckless act of mine.

I have discussed my crazy intentions with quite a no. of friends, and it’s disappointing to not find a single one encouraging me to go ahead. Maybe they would have been more supportive if the world was actually a safer place for a lone female traveler.

They give me suggestions to start with Thailand or Bangkok, but India is a definite NO. But this enrages me. After all, this is my country I am talking about. Don’t I have the right to feel safe here, irrespective of the time and the place? If this is not true, we really need to think about this and we need to think hard.

This has to change. It’s high time now.

"About the author"

I am an Indian female, have crossed a quarter of my life (assuming I am going to reach the maximum average age of humans without being consumed in the zombie apocalypse ) without knowing where am I heading and I have learnt the definitions of Geek and Nerd by heart. Apart from that, I am a Software Developer by profession (Yes, I know every other person is…and I agree I am not contributing anything extraordinary to the humankind). I love to read and spend most of my salary on books (for which I have to face regular rantings from my parents). I have recently discovered that I love travelling (come on, its not like I am 50 and I just discovered I am single!) but I am still searching for some guidance to fulfill my crazy travel ideas.

Stolen By Your Love

noreply@blogger.com (Test The Waters) — Wed, 29 May 2013 06:32:00 +0000

By Shreya Sudesh

I wonder why

I keep searching

For your face

Amongst those in the crowd.

I ponder why

I catch a hint

Of your fragrance

Amidst the throng of people.

Maybe its because of the

Times we spent

Together… separated from the

Hustle and bustle of life.

Or maybe its just

The love I still safeguard

Within the deepest chamber

Of my heart… for you.

Your essence still

Enfolds me within

Its warm and invigorating aura

Never to let go…

I only wish

I could steal you away

From God’s Isle, Heaven.

And keep you with me forever.

PS: This was a poem written as random thoughts struck me. But later, I dedicated it to my Late Grandma .

Date A Girl Who Loves Food (version 2)

noreply@blogger.com (Test The Waters) — Sun, 28 Apr 2013 17:53:00 +0000

Anonymous

While you wait for your plate of Chaat at your regular road side eatery, do you see a girl in front of you who’s telling the Bandi wala exactly how to make her Chaat? See the way she asks him to put in a little more Chili powder and not to put in the curd? She will almost jump when he’s about to put curd in it. You will get impatient because she’s taking a real long time doing that. And you’re hungry. You will never know what she has been up to till you taste what’s in her platter.

If you have the courage, go ahead and ask her out. After she’s done eating. Before that, she won’t realize you exist, and are talking to her. If she obliges, let her choose the place because you won’t be disappointed. If you are new to the city, and she likes you, she will probably take you to one of her favorite joints. She won’t take a look at the Menu , she knows what’s served best at that joint. If she asks you to try something, do it. You will be glad. Observe a pattern at all her favorite eateries. They won’t seem like great places where you could go to, regularly. But there’s a lot to it than what meets the eye.

She’s the kind of girl who’d make you walk a mile through by lanes on a pleasant Saturday evening to get a bowl of ice cream. Or make you drive for 40 kilo meters for a cup of Irani Tea. She’ll say it’s worth it, because the place really serves good ice cream or tea. The under lying fact that you don’t realize is, she wants to be with you during the whole time. She’s making a memory every time she takes you out to a new joint you’ve never heard of in spite of living in the same city as her since years.

She’s a peoples’ person. She has A LOT of friends, everywhere. Don’t be surprised if you’ll are eating at that road side eatery where you’ll first met, and she asks the Bandi Wala how his kids are doing. She knows every manager who has worked at her favorite restaurant. She knows their family and she addresses the waiters by their first name. She exudes a genuine love for people and that comes from her love for food. You don’t have to bother about reserving a table at that swank new fine dining place. An old friend of hers whom she has probably met twice has already done it for her. You will realize it’s easy to fall in love with her.

She’s not the kind who’d get into fits of arguments and fights. When you come back home and are yelling at her for no reason, she won’t say a word. She’d silently get into the kitchen and make coffee. She’ll accidentally put in more whipped cream into one of the mugs. She’ll let you have that, not because you’ve had a bad day, or she loves you. It’s because she’ll immediately label herself selfish if she doesn’t do that. She’ll take you to the terrace, wait till you finish your Coffee, and then gently ask if something went wrong at Work. You won’t remember what had happened, but will be left with pangs of guilt for having yelled at her in the first place.

Hold her hand when you are with your friends. She won’t think twice before she kisses you in front of them. It will take your boys precisely ten minutes before they start treating her like their kid sister. Don’t be worried, they will gang up against you. Play along. Know for a fact, people fall in love with her fast. Don’t let her cook while you throw a party. She will get riled up and ask you a million times if the food tastes okay. For her, every meal is a reason for a celebration. She believes Life is too short to eat bad food.

Visit her on a hot Sunday. She’ll scoop out some tasteless vanilla ice cream , put honey and roasted nuts in it while you watch 27 Dresses cuddled together. She’s happy with her bowl of vanilla with strawberry syrup. You’d be overwhelmed when she falls asleep in your arms. When she wakes up, tell her you kissed her. It will make her blush. After a while, she’ll kiss you back gingerly, only after she has stolen a spoonful of ice cream from your bowl. That’s because she knows strawberry and honey isn’t a good combination.

See how she savors a glass of water like a man in a desert? She’s thanking God for that drink of water when she closes her eyes. See that glint in her eyes when she has her chocolate. It will look like the best darn thing in the world. You will eventually fall in love with everything she loves. Oh, she has peculiar tastes when it comes to food. Have you heard of a Mars Bar Sandwich? She’ll make you one on a jobless day.

When you get serious, take her to meet your parents. You will be appalled to see how she bonds with your Mom. You will never know what they’re up to. Understand that you are the subject of their talk. She’ll find out what you like to eat and your memories as a child through teenage. Somewhere at the back of her mind, she knows all your favorite dishes. When the time’s right, on a special occasion, she will cook them for you. That smile on your face is the one she’ll never forget for the rest of her life. Oh and your Dad? He will never stop raving about those sugarless cookies she made for him.

On a dance night out, she will have the audacity to tell the bar tender to season his nuts well when she doesn’t like their taste. If she gets too impatient, she will go to the other side herself and teach him a trick or two in exchange for a cool flair trick. Dance with her. Music is another one of her passions. She will not have a care in the world when she’s dancing with you. She’ll steal a glance at the bar later during the night. More people are nibbling at the nuts, now. She is content. On a cloudy day, take her out on a drive with her favorite brand of Belgian Dark Chocolate. Make sure you drive slowly over puddles when it begins to rain. Splashing people with dirty water will only make her frown. That is the last thing you want on a day like this. Let her lick the melted chocolate off your fingers. It’ll make her giggle like a child. At that moment, you know you’ve found yourself your woman.

When you are out of town on a work trip, the number of times she says “What did you eat?” will surpass the number of times she says she loves you. If she knows the place you’re in well, she won’t hesitate to talk to local friends there and ask them to take you to some place even they didn’t know existed. She finds beauty in small things. She’ll relish her Crème Brule exactly the way she loves her Kulfi. Feel lucky when she tells you you’ll have covered all her favorite joints in the city. Wait for another surprise. She will be full of them.

Notice that she’ll take more time mixing a morsel of rice than she takes to make her hair. Don’t bother waiting up for her to feed you. You will remain hungry while she’s trying to mix the curry to perfection. If you are patient enough, you will experience bliss, all of it on your taste buds. Your girl knows exactly what you need. Food, or otherwise. Years later, you will realize the extra whipped cream in your cuppa was deliberate, every single time . With her, there are no accidents. Because a girl who knows her food knows her life.

Date A Girl Who Loves Food

noreply@blogger.com (Test The Waters) — Sat, 20 Apr 2013 11:15:00 +0000

By Sahil Mehta

Walk up to that pretty girl. Ask her out for a cup of coffee. Let her order first. If she can’t up make up her mind or goes for the first thing on the menu, then she’s probably not the one.

The girl you’re looking for will be choosy. She’ll take her time ordering just the thing to suit her mood. Be patient. If she’s out with you, she must like something about you. Or she wouldn't have chosen you. Don’t try and help her, don’t rush her. Enjoy that moment. See her eyes make a rainbow of expressions as she debates with herself. Take in those surroundings, that moment. It might be the start of something special.

At the end of it, when the bill comes, insist to pay. Let her know you like her.

Ask her if you may take her out to dinner sometime. And if you haven’t screwed up completely, she’ll probably say yes, if only for the meal. Here’s your second chance.

Take a risk here. Suggest someplace small, quiet and not necessarily popular. Watch her face. If it reflects disappointment, then let her see yours. She probably expected to be taken somewhere grand and lavished with attention. That’s not the girl you want to be with.

The girl you’re looking for will be excited. Excited at trying somewhere new, with someone new. She’ll appreciate your thoughtfulness at not taking her somewhere so expensive where she can’t pay and spend the night feeling guilty. She’s also testing you, your judgment. She’s trusted you enough to lead her. Remember that. She’s trusted you, and you must not break that trust.

When you get there, let her make the first move. If she reaches for the menu and goes off on her own, then it’s not working out. For she doesn’t completely trust you, and probably never will. When it comes to those moments of uncertainty that all couples eventually face, she’ll think about herself before she thinks about the two of you.

Your girl will hand over the menu to you, and let you call the shots. Just for today. She’s an independent young woman but she’s letting you show her a good time. She’ll expect you to trust her the same way as she takes you on trips to her favorite places and try her favorite dishes. Return that trust and she’ll fall for you.

When the bill comes, see if she makes a move for it. If she does, let her pay half. A relationship is between equals. If she doesn't, then its money well spent to know that she’s not what you’re looking for.

This is a girl who’ll stick with you through the thick and thin of it. She doesn't crave attention, she doesn't need the expensive flashy things. She’s happy with just the essentials. Good food, and someone to share it with, everyday single day.

Take her somewhere for dessert. Take a walk, share a banana split, and fall in love.

You’re nearly there. Go out a few more times with her. Let her take you to all her joints. If you listen carefully, you’ll hear what she’s saying to you. She’s making you a part of her life. She’s adding you to her favorite memories. Each of those places has a special significance for her; all of them have a story, and now she’s given your part in those stories. Ask her those stories over your meal, and get a glimpse into her life. Tell her your stories.

Date that girl. Date that girl who loves food. Date her, because after that honeymoon period ends, when the realization starts to dawn that you aren't nearly as similar as you thought initially, you still have something in common. A love for good food.

Date her because when you two fight, over silly insecurities, all you need to cheer her up is call her over for dinner and cook her a meal. It doesn't matter if you can’t cook. It doesn't matter if you botch it up. She’ll know that you care. And she'll stay back to help you with the dishes, because she cares about you just as much.

Date a girl who loves food because when she’s upset about something and about to go into her super binge mode, she’ll call you to join her. She won’t cut you out from life. She'll eat and rant away to glory at the same time, and you'll know exactly what she's thinking.

Date that girl cause when you’re feeling down or tense or stressed, she’ll know not to ask questions. She’ll put a hot a plate of your favorite curry in front of you and watch you eat in silence. And you’ll feel your worries ease off.

And that’s only for the hard times.

Date a girl who loves food, because when you’re super happy and excited, and want to celebrate, she’ll be equally enthusiastic. Date her, because she won’t dampen your spirits by complaining about calories and weight.

Date her because she enjoys the different flavors of life, just as she enjoys them in food. She’ll be game for something new, always. There’ll be a spontaneity to her. And she’ll make sure that every moment counts.

Date her because you’ll figure out she’s feeling particularly intimate tonight just by the amount of spice in the food. Date her ‘cause even when she wants to be pampered, all she’ll want is that exotic flavor of ice cream, that she can share with you.

And date her, because even though you might be miles apart in everything else, at the end of the day you still both need to eat. And she knows that nothing makes a meal quite as enjoyable as the company of someone you love.

............................................................................................................

I've been meaning to write this for almost 6 months and you can attribute some of the rawness and abruptness of the article to my anxiety to finally get it out. This article along the lines of a series of articles on the net titled "Date A Girl Who..." . Ever since I came across these, I wondered what would be that one thing in a person that would really matter to me. Books, music, traveling are all great but at the end of the day, food is what makes it for me.

Ekalavya

noreply@blogger.com (Test The Waters) — Tue, 02 Apr 2013 04:33:00 +0000

By Shashank Chepuri

The Devil was waiting to make his move. He was standing on a railway platform with the air of a hunter waiting for his prey to fall in his trap. As he waited patiently, he couldn’t help but think how much he wanted to quit the job. Lately, his job had become too predictable and boring. His performance in the recent times had reached the zenith, leaving all the competition behind. He really missed his dear friend, The Archangel.

There were times long long ago when the Angels and Devils used to compete with each other. Those were the times when The Angels used to earn a well deserved victory. The Devil still dreaded the days when Ravana, the king of Devils, was slaughtered by Ram, who was called The Archangel. It was the most embarrassing defeat the devils had ever faced. Ever since, the Devils were trying hard to take revenge. Their attempts were never successful, until recently.

Since the last couple of decades the battle had become one sided. Off late, there was no competition from the Angels. It was as if the Angels had gone into a deep slumber. They needed a wake-up call. The Devils had become too bored of victory. They needed competition. The Devil recalled his last and most talked about victory on 16th December 2012 wherein a 23-year-old female was beaten and gang raped in a bus in which she was travelling with her male companion.

‘Where were the Angels then?’

The sound of the approaching train brought the Devil back to the present. He became aware of the surroundings. He scanned the people who flocked looking around the train for his next prey.

An evil smile materialized on his lips when he found her.

***

As the express train arrived at a station for its brief halt, passengers rushed out and into its already packed coaches. Gayathri, a 21-year old girl, just managed to get into a compartment. She was holding on an air bag, which served as her only luggage for her travel. She held the bag with her left hand and held on to a supporting rod with her right hand. As the train accelerated ahead, she suddenly got pushed by the crowd. She panicked and lost her grip, and she was thrown out of the speeding train.

The bluster of the train muted the thud of her fall on to the ground more than a meter below. Gayathri shrieked with pain when her back met the ground. She was knocked senseless.

A boy who was standing on the footboard in another compartment of the same train couldn’t believe what he had just seen—a young woman in a white Punjabi suit lying next to the tracks. Meanwhile, gasps and screams emanated from his compartment.

The boy immediately raised an alarm by pulling the emergency chain frantically. The train screeched, and started decelerating. But it seemed to him as if the train was taking forever to stop. He couldn’t wait for it to halt.

The boy scanned the compartment hoping to find someone willing to help him in rescuing the girl. But nobody volunteered. Everyone was afraid of getting involved. All wanted to know what had happened; all were curious to catch a glimpse of bleeding body and unconscious mind; but no one wanted to come forward and help. All were inactive; all were weak. They could think, but could not feel. They could reason but could not empathize. They spoke in a language devoid of intent. All they cared was to catch their respective glimpses; to consume their daily dose of sheepish whispers and sterilized conspiracies.

The Devil feasted on the scene. The boy was alone. No one was willing to get out of their busy schedule and help the damsel in distress. Everything was going according to the Devil’s plan.

Unaffected by the people’s response, the boy pushed his way towards the exit of the train.

The boy took a deep breath and closed his eyes as he jumped off the train. His rubber slippers did little to protect his feet from the sharp edges of the rocks. A burst of pain shot up in his ankle as he landed on the ground. The pain, however, was not strong enough to weaken his vigour. He gasped for breath as he stood looking for the girl.

He found the girl lying by the side of the tracks around 50 meters away. The rocks (which are usually found between the tracks) had greatly damaged her spine. Her hair lay intertwined with the rocks, which tried to invade her profusely bleeding scalp. The adulterated red streams irrigated the geometrical disparities on her face. Her right hand stretched diagonally towards the track with her thumb resting against her palm; curled like an infant flower bud afraid of daylight. Her left hand, with which she earlier held her luggage, was now smeared in blood. Her luggage lay 10 feet away from her, hidden in the shrubs.

Gayathri was slipping into unconsciousness. As a child, she had always wondered what death would feel like. She knew she would experience it someday.

“It can’t be today. It can’t be now”, she prayed.

‘Don’t worry, you will be fine’, the boy said. It was as if the Angels’ had answered her prayers through the boy. They were the last words she heard before blanking out. She hoped for hope and trusted the voice.

The boy looked around. No help was in sight—they were alone somewhere between two stations.

The Devil’s plan was immaculate. The boy alone could do nothing. Devil knew that he would have to give up eventually.

But the boy had no intentions of giving up. He lifted the 50-kilo Gayathri cautiously and made his way across the tracks. He crossed through some shrubbery, and followed the direction of the sounds.

The Devil was impressed. This boy earned the Devils attention. For the first time in a long time, the Devil was actually challenged by a human.

‘I should find help at any cost’, the boy thought.

‘All you can find is trouble. Yes, that is what you will find. And if you choose trouble, I can offer you a wide variety of it’, the Devil laughed.

As the boy reached the road, he found new hope. A hope that the girl could be saved. He started asking for lifts. No one cared to stop.

‘She is injured,’ the boy implored motorists who drove by.

‘Please help me take her to a hospital’, he cried aloud.

Tears started rolling down his cheeks. He couldn’t make out if the tears were due to the pain in his legs or for the girl he was carrying.

As the boy cried, the Devil laughed. It could already smell its victory.

***

The 21-year old Gayathri Narayan had her marriage coming up the next week. Like any other Indian girl, she awaited a dream wedding. The wedding was just the icing, indeed. The fact that she was marrying the man she loved was the real cake. She was very happy the way her life was shaping up. She felt like princess. It was as if the whole world was conspiring to please her.

That day she decided to give her parents a surprise visit. Gayathri was looking forward to having supper with her parents, and a long phone chat with her fiancé. But now she lay drenched in blood on the highway.

The boy, who was carrying Gayathri, had a very different story. The dark and lanky youngster was from a nearby town. He was an unemployed high-school dropout who’d recently come to city looking for a job. He had spent his morning giving an unsuccessful interview for a job at call center. As he boarded the train home, he pondered his future. But, all he could now think of was saving a stranger’s life.

***

Just when he had begun to lose hope, a tempo-truck pulled over and its driver, a middle-aged man who spoke Punjabi, stepped out. The man helped the boy lay Gayathri down in the back of his truck.

‘Let’s take the girl to The City Nursing Home’, suggested the driver.

When the vehicle lurched forward, Gayathri stirred and her eyes fluttered open.

Gayathri’s eyelids gently rolled up to reveal her light blue eyes and as they came down again, she managed to take a fleeting glimpse of the sight in front of her. She saw a silhouette of a man, standing against the setting sun. He was holding a stick to support his aching leg. It looked to her as if Lord Ram himself was standing in front of her, protecting her from death. She felt like a baby which was taking refuge in its mother’s womb. She felt safe.

She started a silent prayer but couldn’t complete it as she lost focus and rolled back into the darkness.

The Devil saw a similar sight. The boy reminded him of the Angels. As the driver helped the boy to lay Gayathri into the back of the truck, the Devil felt nostalgic. It was turning out to be another Ramayan where in Ram and Hanuman come together to save Sita and vanquish the evil lord. The Devil was terrified.

‘Check her for the mobile-phone. Try and call someone from her contacts’, the driver suggested to the boy. The boy obeyed. He called a contact which said “Bhaiyaa”. It was the contact of the girl’s brother.

Gayathri’s cousin was wrapping up his day at his software job when his phone rang. The voice on the other end of the phone informed him of Gayathri’s accident and asked him to come to The City Nursing Home as soon as possible.

‘I’m on my way’, he said, as he rushed towards his motorcycle.

Gayathri arrived at The City Nursing Home minutes later. Dr. Avasthi conceived the urgency of the case and admitted her immediately to the ICU. As Gayathri was being taken into the ICU the boy was asked to fill the application form. His hands shivered as he filled it up.

The Doctor asked the boy to hang around until Gayathri’s family arrived. That’s when they noticed that the driver, having done all he could, had slipped away with his truck.

‘Oh, I couldn’t thank him!’ the boy thought.

Gayathri was still unconscious. But her X-rays showed that although the injuries looked severe, they were not fatal. There would be no lasting damage, but Dr Avasthi believed that she could have bled to death had nobody helped her.

When she finally opened her eyes, her cousin and fiancé were by her side. She couldn’t find the boy who saved her.

‘Where is the person who saved me?’ she enquired.

‘He is not here. He had to leave for his town’, her cousin said.

She just nodded and fell asleep again.

***

In a few days Gayathri made a full recovery. She was amazed to learn of the manner in which she had been rescued. She enquired more about the boy.

Her cousin said that he had thanked the boy and offered him money which he promptly refused to accept.

‘I can’t imagine what would have happened to you if he hadn’t been there,’ he said.

‘I think it’s astonishing that a stranger would jump off a train and risk his life for me. We can never repay him’, Gayathri said.

The Devil sat in the same room silently. He was outplayed. He was left defeated but was not disappointed. The boy proved that Humanity was still not lost by all. It was scarce, but it did exist. And as long as people go out of their way to help others, Humanity shall prevail. Perseverance of Humanity is biggest weapon of the Angels and hence the biggest threat to the Devils.

The Devil was about to leave when he heard Gayathri enquire about the name of the boy. As the Doctor looked into the application form to check his name, the Devil waited for the answer. He needed to know the name of the boy who defeated him.

‘Ekalavya…His name is Ekalavya’, the Doctor announced.

The Devil then flew out of the hospital already conspiring for the next disaster, hoping that at least the next time, this trait called humanity, would not cause any trouble in its well laid plans.

Source : fineartamerica.com

As the Devil left, Gayathri smiled and closed her eyes; visualizing the boy’s silhouette and silently completed the prayer which she had started in the truck.

(Based on a true story...)

This Is Not The End

noreply@blogger.com (Test The Waters) — Tue, 02 Apr 2013 04:31:00 +0000

Diary of A Teach For India Fellow

by Pranav Sukhija

The year 2013 is already turning out to be quite eventful for me and my bunch of 40! Not only did we excel in our end of year exams, we also put forward a stupendous showcase event in our classroom for ten delegates from Teach For All. They were here in Delhi for an educational conference and I volunteered to host them in my school and classroom, hoping that this chance will allow my kids and I to do something really special. We organised a carnival-themed event which had something for everyone. The kids led stalls inside the classroom and demonstrated some of the stuff we did in the last academic year such as making bookmarks, painting diyas and improving reading comprehension through games. The mehendi stall, which was led by Ishrat and Mariyam, became especially popular among the ladies.

Centre for Civil society, a think-tank based in New delhi, partnered with TFI to organise a three-day seminar on public policy (ipolicy) for TFI fellows. I was chosen to be one of the participants of this seminar. The three days were spent reading, listening, thinking, debating and discussing policy-based solutions to solve socio-economic problems. Some of the sessions like “Why is India Poor?”, “Tragedy of the Collective”, “10 Principles of Sound Public Policy”, among others, were particularly interesting and made me question my views and beliefs about the role of government and market in the society. The session on Right to Education Act was designed for us to spot out the loopholes in the policy and recommend appropriate changes. It was particularly interesting to note how the government is forcing private schools to reserve 25% of their seats for poor children but is not doing much to improve the quality of teaching in government schools. A lot of things the Act talks about such as formation of school management committees, etc. don’t get implemented. The seminar answered some questions I had but left me with many more questions to think about.

The kids are done with their fourth grade exams and are now moving to fifth grade. I am working hard these days to carefully plan out the first unit of the new academic year. This first unit is the only one left for me to spend time with my students. I find it rather eerie to come to terms with the fact that my fellowship is coming to an end. When I look back at the time when I first met my students and compare it with now, I see a massive difference in their abilities, attitudes, values and mindsets. But it is not just the kids who have changed. I have changed, too, and I know that if it weren’t for the lifetime opportunity the fellowship provided me, I wouldn’t have gained so much in the last two years, both personally and professionally, as I did. I am happy to know that a new fellow is going to replace me in my classroom and my students will still have the opportunity to experience excellence in education.

The fellowship may be getting over but my association with TFI and all the amazing people I met in the last two years is not. I will keep supporting the movement in whatever ways I can, wherever I may be going to from here. The journey seemed long, rocky in parts, but with the help of my friends, I reached my destination. But the end point also marks the beginning of another journey and I am equally excited about what knocks my door next.

Like I said, this is not the end. Just another beginning.

Of Stories And Their Importance

noreply@blogger.com (Test The Waters) — Tue, 02 Apr 2013 04:26:00 +0000

by Hamsini

We write to make ourselves heard. We write to comfort ourselves and write down the thoughts that swirl in our heads. That’s all well and good. We need those happy-go-lucky stories that amount to nothingness they keep us sane and safe.

There are so many books in the market right now that are filled with stories; stories that mean nothing. They’re filled with stories about BITS boys falling for IIT girls, engineering colleges, women who can’t make up their minds; bad English and slaughtered grammar. Most of these authors wish to pen down the best days of their lives: their college days.

But the people who need to write their stories, they don’t. The people who have faced suffering, loss, grief and pain—real emotions—they don’t or can’t write. But their stories are the ones that need to be told; they are the ones that people need to hear about and learn from.

I heard this quote recently: Those who forget history are condemned to relive it. Instead of amalgamating a style similar to that of the west, we need to talk about the essence that is India. We need to bring out the real stories that people live in everyday. We need to tell everyone these stories because that’s the only way we will not repeat our mistakes. The good books, the good stories; they live through and through, and people don’t need to know the alphabets to know of them.

This is not to say that books about urban chick-lit timelines are not good. Essentially all stories are the same and they all serve the same purpose. That makes sense, yes. But are some stories more important than the others? How do we rank their importance? How can we prioritize them and say that one is better than the other? Who has the right to say that one is better than the other?

We all grow up with our own, unique frames of reference; essentially, we’re all screwed up and we have our own baggage. And we hear and assimilate stories that we relate to, that somehow touch us for reasons unbeknown. But only when we go beyond our own frames of reference and move on to other issues—new territories of which we know nothing about—we grow as people.

So the next time you pick up a book, pause and look around to see if you want something new. You don’t know what you might be missing out on.

Politically Incorrect

noreply@blogger.com (Test The Waters) — Tue, 02 Apr 2013 04:20:00 +0000

the Best of Pragyananda Mishra

# Vampires are blood honest. Unke irade NECK hote hain

# In the world of symbols its only the + which enjoys a Sumbhog ;)

# Fowl-Mouthed: Blurting out obscenities at the first serving of a Chicken dinner after a break of many days

# Way too much vampire stuff on TV. Those Neckromancers !

# Its Maha Shivratri today- Rise to the occasion with the Big Bhaang Theory!

# I salute the woman - One who, generally speaking, is generally speaking ;)

# A main-course at a gala dinner ends only with a inter-course late night ~ wise guy

# A very happy birthday to Uday Chopra.

The only Director turned Actor turned Director turned Producer turned Extra

# The more you study the harder it is to convince your grandmother about your career path

# The Fund Raising of an orchestra is always a Band-Aid

# A Voyeur’s eyesight is tuned at the Peek Efficiency ;)

# Shoplifters are the few ones who have a Gift of the Grab

# Fight till the last strand of black hair. Dye Hard !

# Dressmakers, catering to a pregnant clientele are Mother Frockers

# Bharat Bandh coincides with Jiah Khan’s birthday. Poor girl, she is Nishabd today !

# A swimsuit hottie is a girl worth wading for

# There are always few special ones. The Testimoanial types :P

# Arranged Marriage: NewlyWed

Love Marriage: KnewlyWed

You choose !

# A barter over sea food is a Squid-Pro-Quo

# Climbing up a train is difficult for fat people.

Uncles, for decades have tried to Up the Aunty at those places ;)

# Sleeping with girlfriends since 1903, A Teddy Bear has seen it all. #HappyTeddyDay

#Lingerie salesmen are Negli-Gents

# In spite of my protests my friend went for installing 6 aquariums in his new house.

It is a house of gill repute now !

# Pickpockets are the greatest optimists. They believe that every crowd has a silver lining ;)

# My MBA friend’s relationship with a hotel maid is not working out. Apparently she is more of an expert with spread-sheets !

#What do you call a share trader who is also a humorist?

.A Laughing Stock

#Sheldon, of late has become better. He is now an Amyable person

#Every Pandit is a Hymn-atwala

#Ageing has its own pitfalls. One is the loss of the never-say-dye attitude

# Quantum Physicists, on completing their work breathe a Ψ of relief

# Cricketer’s dilemma at food : Currydor of Uncertainty

# Lost my shoes at the temple. Thank God, I found there exists a sole-mate for me

# A frog’s mother always opposed his son venturing out to the open.

Little did the son understand that she was always the WELL-wisher ;)

# In a text conversation ‘Awwww’ is the answer to Life, the Universe and Everything

# Ancient Romans as portrayed by the TV shows were an altogether different generation.

They were the Gen-ITALIA ;)

# Indian Protester : AAM ADMI by day, SPAM ADMI by night

# The Cunning Linguist got a score of 96.69; Forget MBA he would be a Lay-man for life ;)

# With Butter and Pickles, North Indian food is always a delightful Ghee-motional Aty-achar ;)

# Hindu weddings prove the existence of an Altar Ego

# My friend is on track to become a fantastic orthopedist. His favorite topic is the Cast-ing Couch ;)

# Balding Lions hate Mane-o-pause

# Police Dogs are an Epitome of Conscentration

# Savitha Bhabhi would surely be having a good time. It’s world Aunty-Corruption day !

# Zoroastrians make the thriftiest of friends. The Parsi-monious type ;)

# FDI has to be something right. I was opposing it and got splattered all over by an IDF defender

# Donald Duck broke up with his girlfriend. His condition was best described as LackaDAISYcal

# Minding the pupils is a squintessential teacher’s worst nightmare

# Batch parties make celebrities. The Lager than Life type you know ;)

# Its Bal Divas. A reminder to look after the receding hairlines ;)

# Classmates: Morons

Special Classmates: Proxymorons

# The private browsing icon stands for Cognito Ergo Sum ;)

# Any one got a DVD of Ra.One ?

Let’s burn it and celebrate Dussehra ;)

# While conversing with a boy, 65% of all girls begin replying with a ‘no’

Stay awake.......It is their aNOmaalous behavior

# The spell checker went for a blood test. He had a tough time believing the report. He just could not get over the Type-O ;)

# Electrical Engineers are the only people proud of their current affairs ;)

# I am innovative and a risk taker when it comes to consuming and ordering lobsters

In other words I can become a EntrePrawneur some day !

# There is always a vas deferens between birth control methods #Man-hood

# Happiest birthday Shane Warne. The guy who bowled men and balled women

# Vital Statistics is all about mean, maiden and mood.

# Female sheep bitch about Ewefamism #Hey Ram !

# Spanish counter strike players propose by the following words…te ammo ;)

# A movie name for

1. A dying torrent

2. A soon-to-be plant

3. An ageing Vicky Donor

Wake Up Seed !

# A serial kisser is a Kal-muaaahhh ;)

Be Safe

noreply@blogger.com (Test The Waters) — Tue, 02 Apr 2013 04:15:00 +0000

by Sahil Mehta

To put everything into context, it is twenty one minutes past midnight on a Wednesday night, or a Thursday morning. I have to leave home at 8:30 a.m. in the morning for work, and I really should be asleep. I feel sleepy too. I’m tired and I want to sleep. But I can’t.

I can’t sleep because I’m scared. I’m scared of the nightmares that may come when I do actually close my eyes. You see, a female friend of mine was due to travel alone late at night today. And despite my telling her to message to let me know she had reached safely she hasn’t. And right now, I’ve got no fricking clue whether she’s safe or not.

Or course, I shouldn’t really worry. She’s a bright, sensible and independent girl who’s probably done this before. My anxiety should not be taken as a reflection of her being careless or immature, because she isn’t.

But I am worried. And I’m scared. Because, deep down, I know what can happen, and what does happen in this country. I wake every morning to headlines of rapes and gang-rapes. I look at these articles in despair and anger. I wonder what kind of animals would do this. And I berate the authorities and government for not preventing these hideous crimes.

Today I’m feeling another emotion, something that the newspaper stories don’t me feel. I’m feeling the fear that thousands and thousands of Indian women and their families feel every day. And frankly I’m terrified.

But it’s not just fear. It’s helplessness. I’m sitting here and typing this in the clear knowledge that if anything untoward does happen, I won’t be able to do anything. And perhaps no one else will even bother.

It’s not one incident. A couple of days back my mom had a work dinner. She told me in the morning before work. As it would happen, the driver was on leave as well. She told me, and I completely forgot by the time I got back home at 8 p.m. Now, I’m used to mom working late. And I don’t usually worry because she’s in the office and the car and driver are right there.

This particular day she wasn’t in the office, and there was no driver or car. So after a couple of hours I got kind of concerned. So I called her up. And her phone was switched off. I called, a little stupidly perhaps, repeatedly. And the phone was still off.

I’m not going to get into details, but when she did return home I unloaded on her like I’ve never done before. It wasn’t her fault. But I still did. And while I apologized for it, if something like this happens again, I probably would do it again. If not for any other reason than simply because, there’s nothing else I could have done.

I can’t really describe how worried I got then. But after today’s instance, when I look back at things, I’m a little amazed. I shouldn’t have to fell scared if people I know are not at their home or their offices. No one should have to live in the fear that some tragedy might befall their dear ones just because they aren’t in the confines of familiar surroundings.

I, we, live in the world’s largest democracy. We shouldn’t feel like prisoners in our own homes.

If you think I’m making this up, you’re wrong. If you think I’m overreacting, then wait until you have to go through this same thing, though I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy.

And then there is this one final thought. Why am I so helpless? I’m 23 years old. I’m reasonably smart, and passably strong. More than anything else, I’m educated with morals and values. I should be doing something. I shouldn’t let this environment of terror prevail!

I’m pro harsher rape laws. I’m all for death sentences for extreme cases. But that’s not making me feel any less concerned about the safety of my friend and mother right now. If something were to happen to them, then I’d probably go into a mad killing rage anyway without regard for the law. But nothing I could do then would change what happened. And that thought sickens me.

I can’t go out patrolling the streets every night like a vigilante. I can’t be present at the scene every time a woman is harassed in this country. But perhaps collectively we can make a difference.

And perhaps we can start by being more sensitive to women in general and stop saying inappropriate things. If you know someone going home alone, drop her! Wait till she’s inside if you’re dropping her. And for god’s sake, stop making a pass at every girl you see!

I’m at a loss now. I’m not naïve enough to suggest that government should educate people about this. A. They don’t have the capacity. B. I don’t think people need to be taught how to act as humans, or atleast they shouldn’t.

But till we can fix this disease in the society, I just want all the ladies reading this to be safe. And please do carry a pepper spray. It might feel like nothing to you, but it makes me sleep easier at night.

Staccato

noreply@blogger.com (Test The Waters) — Tue, 02 Apr 2013 04:11:00 +0000

By Kartheik Iyer

The sun. Now orange. Now red. Blazing. Iridescent. Portentous. Humbling. Setting.

Its reflection. His eyes. His face. Stubble. A tear. Salty to taste. The sea. The waves. Little boat on the horizon. Bobbing.

The breeze. The smell of fish. The taste of salt. Of memories. Bygones. Possibilities.

The seagulls. Fly. Glide. Circle. Fish. Dip. Miss. Dip. Catch. Eat.

Rocks. Vein-encrusted. Tidebreakers. Sturdy. Stolid. Weathered. Worn.

Clouds. Contrast. Shapes. Of wishes. Of dreams. Drift away.

‘I want to...’

Thoughts. Fragmented. Splintered. Incoherent. Looking. Searching. Lost trains.

Life. Meaning. None. Journey. Pointless. Goal. Unattainable. Game. Whose? Mine. Yours. His? Whose? Somebody. Nobody.

Beautiful? No.

Interesting? Yes.

Spectacles. Opaque. Coulombic. Not inverse. Mundane. Nontrivial. Together. Simple. Lies. Random. Words. Strung. Together. A theory. An explanation. A fact. Contrast. A rationalization. Expectations. Reality.

He sat and thought. For a way to put his thoughts into words. Of any form, in any language. Words. Powerful. Meaningless. Powerless. Wise. Such...., such that it allowed his wandering, traipsing mind to express all kinds of eloquent trivialities, but fell short when he wanted to speak of what mattered.

But what mattered? Initiate cycle. Success? Meaningless. Company? Temporary. Love? No, not that. Freedom? Self imposed. Self declared. Semantics. Life? Not being dead? Achievements? Individual. Meaningless. History? Stories. Depend on the storyteller. Peace? Wishful thinking. Happiness? Too hard. Satisfaction? To whom. Self. How? Success? Full circle. No answers.

He sat and watched the sun set, a reflected fire burning in his hollowed eyes as the incandescent ball ducked below the skyline with deceptive quickness, the lights in his eyes flickering with the stormy sea before they, too, went out altogether, leaving the burnt out husk of what once had possibly been a great man. Softly, he sang to the wind, as they carried the quiet words away,

‘Don’t take away my shine, my shine is all I have...’

Welcome To The 20s

noreply@blogger.com (Test The Waters) — Tue, 02 Apr 2013 04:06:00 +0000

by Dharna Chauhan

Did you just turn 20? Here’s some wisdom for you.

Now when you step into your twenties, you’re suddenly out of your teenage and are looked upon as a mature adult; fully capable of taking your own decisions, all of which are expected to be correct and solely your responsibility. Yes, it is a lot of pressure. But that is not the hard part. You will be able to take a lot of decisions - some pretty good ones, some downright filthy. But all of them will be scrutinized under the most painfully alert eyes; because while you may be blissfully unaware, someone, somewhere is just waiting for you to screw up, and they’re as confident as you are that you WILL screw up.

There are a few things you are going to realize once you turn 20. You won’t realize them all at once, but I am pretty sure by the time you’d turn 25, we’d have covered most of it.

People around you will be falling in love, meeting their soul-mates and you would in all probability be in the midst of a heart-break or would not have experienced love at all. Please, relax! You’re just in your early twenties. There are lots of people still out there, waiting to love and be loved. Desperation is not going to be your most striking quality; refrain from it.

Suddenly, the things that annoy you become invariably large in number. Kids you once thought were cool and breezy would now be nothing more than retards and imbeciles, waiting for a mouthful, wishfully from you. People will cease to impress you by being merely “hot” with the IQ of a bottle. (Oh, wait. Are you a guy? I’m sorry; this one thing is not going to change.)

You should prepare yourself for a lot of pain (emotional, mostly). Although you are past your teens, your hormones have only grown with you. They will confuse you on a whole new level. You’ll realize that a sandcastle being washed off by the waves was not in fact the most painful thing to watch. You will witness great losses—friends, pets, lovers, fictional heroes—a lot of them are going to leave you, and you may then realize what they meant when they said they were “writhing in agony”. At least that is what you’d THINK.

A part of you will understand that small talk is not for everybody. All you eventually care for will be a “what’s up!” without even waiting for the answer. Hasn’t happened yet? Give it time.

The sibling you had been wishing was dead for years, will suddenly feel like the most fun, honest, and wonderful friend you’ve had. All these years growing up, when you felt you could easily kill him and now you realize that a part of you resides in them.

She is the only one who knew how you were when you were young; that’s precious. You love her now, more than so many of your friends.

There will be some people around you who you’re sure you don’t give a damn about! But the moment they say something about you, it affects you more than you’d ever imagined possible. This is the point at which it strikes you that no matter how many times you say that you don’t give a dead rat’s ass to what Mr. X said, anything ANYONE has to say about you affects you! You may not understand why, but it does.

If you are lucky, you will fall in love with a pretty quirky person. Your friends would try to talk you out of it; they won’t understand what you see in that person. And you won’t understand how they could NOT see it in them! Well, only until a few years. Yes, growing up is an unending process. We can only hope to be the adults we think we are.

One thing that is going to hit you really, really hard is that not all (none, actually) twenty-somethings are anything like Rachel, Joey or Monica! Falling in an out of love isn’t as easy. You’re not going to have as many sexual partners. And no, you are not going to be friends with anyone like Chandler Bing! Sitting around in the coffee house, gossiping with your ex-boyfriend is not how you make a living. You have to go to actual jobs, work crazy hours, and earn a meager amount you’d call “salary”.

You girls, at one point, you will realize that the V-word is actually a big deal! You are going to understand how important first times are, and how the first time happens only once. You thought your hormones went crazy when you turned 17? Lady, you have no idea! Now more than the guy, you are going to miss just having a guy. One advice: Be wise, be picky, and be safe.

You will soon realize your best friends may not stick up for you at all times; they’ll be still your friends, just not as “reachable” or “agreeable”. You’ll still be really close to them, talk to them every day, then every two days, every week, then every month… which would, at best, change to every birthday. But this would also make you understand, that even though you may not be in constant touch with them, they mean a lot to you. You will hold on to whatever’s left.

You’re going to become more realistic or even more absurd about your plans for the future. Some of you will realize that selling lemonade along the foothills of Himalayas could be a cool, very cool dream-job, but not as profitable. Others would still wonder why there are no lemonade stalls along the Himalayas. Either way, it’ll change your idea of being.

You would choose your bridesmaid/best-man and the godparents for your future-children. You would think these are the people that are going to stick with you through thick and thin and are going to be the pillar of support you can always lean to. You’d be right. The person you can see mentoring your child is definitely someone you can depend on. Hold on to them.

You will start getting an idea about how some of the things your parents said were true and sensible, and you would in all likelihood, be able to understand a portion of them. You will, however, still be rebellious, and confused between your own love and resentment for the two people who, you’re not sure why, haven’t written you off yet. You will love them, again, but in the unhealthiest way.

At some moments in your life, while you are in your early twenties, you are going to be sad. A lot! Your mood swings would range from ecstatic to downright depressed. At times you would want to shower your love on people, while there would be moments when you would want to kill the next person you see. You will find yourself turn mean to the levels you had never imagined; also, you will surprise yourself with the occasional silent acts of compassion. You will lie a lot. You will judge a lot. You will hate a lot, and you sure will love a lot. You’re going to offend certain people, belittle your own self, magnify your problems, loathe your friends and family, and not even know why. Because no matter where you are, what you do, there is always going to be someone out there who is smarter than you, prettier than you, richer than you, more fulfilled than you; and there would be pretty much nothing you would be able to do about it.

All you can do is enjoying the growing up and learn what you can, about life, about others, and most of all, about yourself. The twenties may be not be the best that life has to offer, but it has its own perks and attractions. Welcome aboard, my friend, welcome to the twenties.

It pretty much sucks; you’re gonna love it and oh-so-much miss it when it’s gone!

Age of Consent & Anti-Rape Bill

noreply@blogger.com (Test The Waters) — Tue, 02 Apr 2013 04:00:00 +0000

By Abhay Gupta

There’s an old saying that I made up a few minutes ago about carrots and sticks. If you can’t make the
carrots any juicier, line the stick with barbed wire so it hurts more. And that’s presently what the government is in the process of doing with the remodeling of the current laws regarding rape and age of consent. By now, I’m sure everyone’s familiar with the infamous incident where a 23-year old woman was brutally gang-raped and tossed out of a moving bus in New Delhi on the 16th of December, 2012. The public demanded that the government do something in response to such a horrifying tragedy and, well, they’re doing something. They’re sharpening the stick. The carrot isn’t going to taste any different, after all. What, were you expecting the government to start doling out gift baskets and badges of merit for all the rapes you DIDN’T commit today?

What is the government doing about this, though? Have we really questioned whether the government’s actually taking the right steps towards curbing the number of incidents of rape and sexual brutality committed in our country every day? Let’s start with the restructuring of the laws regarding age of consent. As of this week, it’s still 18. There was a lot of commotion regarding the proposal to lower it down to 16 and all I could wonder was – How does that affect anything? Do sex offenders really ask for age proof before sexually violating someone?

The age of consent is basically the youngest one can be before they can lose their virginity. Anyone who takes the virginity of someone below the age of consent is guilty of committing ‘statutory rape’, regardless of whether consent is given or not, and is entitled to a free trip to prison, all expenses covered. The idea of changing the age of consent was to effectively curb the sexual exploitation of minors. There is some genuine legitimacy to this issue but it’s a huge waste of time if our primary agenda is to eliminate rape. What kind of statement is the government making when its solution to stopping rapists and sexual fiends is to lock up pedophiles and horny young people? If you have tigers loose in the city, you don’t solve this problem by hunting down stray dogs in the hopes that this will discourage the tigers from eating your children. You find yourself a hunter who knows the difference between a tiger and an aalsi kutta.

And don’t let that be the only thing that should bother you about the government’s Anti-Rape bill. There’s also stalking and voyeurism that’s under debate. First time offenders could face 1-3 years for voyeurism and up to three years for stalking. I’m not opposed to this. There are some really creepy people roaming our city streets and the last thing anyone wants is for any of these creeps to enact out my deepest, darkest fantasies. Umm, I meant theirs. Obviously.

But seriously, anyone could be a voyeur if poor judgment is applied. If you’re attractive enough, you may just have to get used to a flurry of ogling fans checking you out. There are some obvious boundaries one is allowed to have and too much staring is definitely creepy but if you’re going to enforce a law on it, you should damned well know how far a line you want to draw. I’ve known people who get into trouble with cops for driving after having a single glass of beer and that’s just made it clear to me that our government has a tendency to overcorrect an issue to a dangerous extreme when it can’t find an optimum solution.

On that note, have you ever considered what constitutes stalking? No, checking someone’s Facebook profile isn’t real stalking. But, hey, maybe it will be soon. We won’t know for sure until the government makes up its mind on how much stalking is too much stalking and when the persistent pursuit of a love interest crosses over from ‘endearing’ to ‘holy shit, get a restraining order’. Janata Dal’s Sharad Yadav, for example, suggests that this bill could ‘kill romance’ since it’s his belief that a man must ‘follow a woman’ till she notices him and reciprocates. Uh-huh.

Still, what amount of persistence is stalking? Could I send a woman to jail because she called me a hundred odd times over the course of a week? If I’m walking towards a certain destination and a woman’s walking the same way, some distance in front of me, should I overtake her or stop for a smoke break to avoid the possibility of going to jail over some misguided paranoia? Does that, effectively, make me just as paranoid? Thanks, government. We all feel much safer now.

The task at hand is a complicated, difficult one to solve, and the classic approach of introducing more terrifying penalties seems to have done little to deter close to a dozen men from brutally violating a woman to the point where her consequent death was a small mercy. It’s a grave problem that cannot be fixed simply by discouraging a handful of promiscuous teenagers and everyday voyeurs. If you feel, as I do, that our government can do more, don’t let the Anti-Rape bill circulate around such insignificant factors. Don’t let the December atrocity blow up into another sensation that got swept away underneath a rug of hollow solutions and helpless scapegoats. Remember – the next victim could very easily be you or someone you know.

The Vindication Of An Idea

noreply@blogger.com (Test The Waters) — Tue, 02 Apr 2013 03:51:00 +0000

A Farewell To LTGTR

I have been drafting this in my head for nearly three years, as long as we’ve existed. Drafting and re-drafting to make it grand, like the final flourish of an actor on stage who knows that he will be remembered by that one final act of his, as he is lost in the fading spotlight, while the curtains come down on his part.

But as I sit here actually typing it out, I would happily trade all of that grandeur and elegance for clarity, as I struggle to pick out that one single strand of thought, from the multitudes that coarse through my mind, like a dam broken, battered and worn by the essence of time.

We were destined to fail. Of that I have no doubt. I’m simply incredulous about the fact that we defied a certain fate for as long as we did. And even within that incredulity is a sense of pride at what we, and I, have achieved. And a deep sense of gratitude for all those who helped carry us until they could no more.

There is a reason why all the things must end. And in essence, they can be broken down into one of two; a) a body that has no strength and a will which can no longer push the broken body; b) its existence was an abnormality, a mistake that should never have come about.

It is, I believe, true for all things – people and ideas, for those are all that matter to me.

When LTGTR was first conceived, its end was already marked down in the annals of its history, that shall soon be wiped out as footprints are, in a tidal wave. What remained then, was simply to determine the brevity of its existence, and the cause for its failure.

I started out LTGTR as hopelessly foolish idealist, who perhaps like Romeo blinded in love, refused to accept the declining prowess of the written word. I believed that like the young revolutionaries who preceded us in eras bygone, we, the offsprings of a confused marriage of technology and tradition, could do the same. I was full of big dreams and thoughts that would never come to fruition in 100 years. I was never high on hope.

And so we began our quest like all young dreamers do, clueless about the path ahead and thick-skulled enough to not care. We began our quest, with only the stars to guide us. And our first obstacle was not the resistance from others, or the fury of nature, but the moral dilemmas that waylay all young travelers and test their strength, will and belief. Not all of us made it through. Those that did were stronger for the better.

To those wondering about this seemingly pointless meandering, I have this to say. Patience. And that is what we did whenever it dawned on us that we had started out a quest doomed for failure like all foolhardy men do. And we pulled through. Somehow helping each other like those tiny ants do.

We crossed the desert and sailed into the sea, with the wind at our backs and a handy crew. And we rejoiced in the turn of fortunes and lived recklessly. And then the wind stopped. And then we despaired. And in that despair our own albatross appeared. And we sailed for a while again, before we shot it. And again we despaired. And again it came. And again we shot it. This continued for many turns till finally we reached the promised land.

We paid our price too though. We reached somewhere, and then we couldn’t move further. The will of men is not enough to build ships that travel unexplored waters. It is only enough, and not always, to reach the safety of the mainland from a few miles in the sea.

Stuck there, with nowhere to go, the shoulders began to droop and heads began to fall, until finally bodies rolled off and men began to disappear. And those remaining, while certain of their fate, despaired at the thought of a lost legacy and of the taint of being called fools for the rest of their afterlives. With one final push, they built a monument as a sign of their achievement, a testament to the fact that they were not wrong.

This letter is that monument.

And that is the story of LTGTR. We found the right path, the right idea, but the journey’s taken its toll. And while our strength has failed us, our intentions were right. We made a small place for ourselves in this world. An acceptance from our readers. And a recognition from people, for what we tried to do.

The journey of LTGTR ends here. And at the end of it, is the vindication of an idea.

An idea that everybody has a right to express themselves, and that others will accept them for it. An idea that well written articles still have a place in a world of sarcastic and satirical Tweets and statuses. And that writing and literature can still inspire and ignite the souls of people, and - using them as agents - bring down the tyranny of antiquated thought that still prevails.

So it is, at this august evening of March, that we bid thee farewell with the hope that we’ve touched your lives and made them better in our own small little way.

And as the Scorpions said

“If you feel that all your life

Is packed with complications

And almost everything you try

Ends up in new frustrations

If you feel that life’s passing by, passing by

Catch the train of better times

Rock tonight

Hard times go

As soon as the good times roll

Hard times go

As soon as the good times roll”

Cheers and keep the good times rolling!

- Sahil Mehta

A Serendipitous Journey

noreply@blogger.com (Test The Waters) — Sat, 16 Mar 2013 17:05:00 +0000

By Manish Reddy

ARJUN

“Honestly, I don’t know any good love stories. But because you are so interested, I think a small story of mine will suffice.” I said.

“Wow! That’s nice Arjun, start from the very beginning!” she said.

She was more than happy; it was obvious from her smile.

“I’m telling you right now that you might be disappointed at the end, because there is nothing like romance or anything in this story - just a boy and a girl, okay?” I warned.

"What? At least a few kisses?", she asked smiling.

“No, not even a kiss!”

“Hmm… its ok, I get a feeling I’ll like this story anyway” she said with a smile but less warmly than before.

“I better get something to eat before you start. Do you want anything?” she asked.

“Yeah, Lays and a coke- Wait I can come with you.”

“It’s ok, I’ll get them, meanwhile, brush up your story by memorizing your girl” she said giggling.

I smiled back at her as she got down from the train checking her mobile for any messages, probably. She smiled again at me from outside the window. Looking at her I could say one thing for sure - She was really beautiful as was her smile. She’s a typical girl; talkative, open minded and easy going. Never before on a train trip have I got to know anyone this well - especially someone this beautiful.

Her father came to the station with her. She apparently likes the window seat too and sat opposite me. When her dad spoke to me, I found out that we were heading to the same place - Delhi. Before leaving from the station her dad kissed her on the forehead. In India, normally, many teenagers get embarrassed by the way their parents express their love in public. But she smiled fondly at him and that struck me more than her beauty.

She was wearing a grey t-shirt and a black overcoat with sleeves running up to her palm so that only the tips of ten dainty fingers are visible. She tucks her hair behind her ears but it refuses stay there and comes tumbling down her face over and over again.

She was the one who started talking. She said and I must quote - "only scholars can be silent because they are full of wisdom but idiots like you and me should talk and share our knowledge, right?" with a smile. She smiles and blushes a lot but I’m not complaining.

Her name was Nithya and she’s doing her graduation in Delhi University while I told her that I was doing my engineering in Bits Pilani Hyderabad Campus. Then we moved on to our mutual interests like movies, books and football. It came as a shock to find a girl follows football. She likes Messi but here we both differ as I’m a diehard fan of Ronaldo. She told me how she fancies love stories and started pestering me to tell one. Somehow, she persuaded me to tell her my non-existent love story.

Any other time, a situation like this would have made me tense but with her, I was calm. As soon as she left, questions started popping in my head. Does she like me? Am I boring? Why did she talk to me in the first place? What love story was I to tell her?

As my mind badgered me with these questions, the railway announced that our train was to leave soon. The woman who makes railway announcements always depresses me. Why don't they ask Shreya Goshal, Sadhana Sargam, Swetha Mohan or Chitra to record these? Doesn’t that count for some kind of community service?

She’s not back yet. The situation tenses as the train sounds its horn. “What perfect timing”, I mutter to no one in particular, “I don’t even know her number to call her back.” I went to the entrance of the compartment but there’s no sign of her yet. The wheels of the train start moving and I strain my neck to catch sight of her but in vain. I mounted an empty bench on the platform and resumed my search operation. Finally I see her as she quickly tries making her way towards the train.

“NITHYA! NITHYA…!” I yelled, waving my hands to get her attention. I never thought that I would have been able to scream like that but I did. She saw me, the relief apparent on her face. But she wasn’t going to make it. This was no Hindi movie though. “Nithya! Get into that compartment!” I yelled as I pointed to the adjacent compartment. I realized that everyone around was staring at me, probably because I was gesturing and screaming like an idiot. Then I looked at Nithya who had mercifully gotten on board. The train is speeding up and I was just standing there, looking at her.

“ARJUN!!” She shouted, waving, asking me to get into the train. Now this was something - Never had my name sounded this sweet or this unfamiliar. I snap out of it and make a dash for the train. We had ended up in different compartments after this train chasing episode. She’s at the doorway of the next compartment, waiting for me, actually laughing. I knew it was funny but I could not make out if she was laughing at me yelling like a clichéd Hindi film hero or if she was simply thanking me.

As there’s a pantry car between our compartments, we can't meet until we reach the next station. I thought that the next station would be about 15 minutes away but a middle aged woman told me that it was an hour away. I don’t feel normal. I think I miss her already, how could that be? I told Nithya with gestures, that I was going to check on our luggage and she nodded her assent.

And our fate was sealed for the next 1 hour.

NITHYA

I hate this. I felt terrible about nearly missing the train but the optimist inside took control of the situation - Things could have been worse if Arjun wasn’t there or if I had been a minute late. At least I have chips to eat but poor Arjun has nothing. I laugh at the thought. I would be listening to his love story if not for this thrilling episode, I thought. After asking a passenger next to me I find that it’ll take another 40 minutes to reach next station. Why did this happen to me? I must have done something wrong today or yesterday. Yes, now I get it - I should have never left home without taking blessings from Ma. We had a small tiff before I left and I was angry but now I’m not going to see her till semester vacations. I dialed her number on my phone,

“Hello Ma.”

“Hello Nithu , it’s Dada.”

“Dada, I want to talk to mom - is she there?”

“Yes she's here, but she is quite upset that you left without even speaking to her this morning.”

“Oh Dada! Please tell Ma I’m sorry.”

I could hear Dad talking to my mother in the background and she immediately comes on line.

“Nithu, how’s your journey going on? Is everything ok?” She speaks with such intensity that I wish I hadn’t been petty enough to fight with her.

“Everything’s fine Ma, I’m sorry that I didn’t talk to you this morning. I’m really sorry.”

“Forget it Nithu - I wanted to call you too.” She said.

“Aha! Then why didn’t you call me?” I teased her for a while and then hung up. I felt much better. The phone rang again but it wasn’t Ma who usually called me back with some advice or the other. It was an unknown number. “Hello Nithu, where are you?” a growling male voice said, on the other end.

“I’m sorry - Who’s this?”

“Nithu enough of your jokes! Where are you dear?”

“Excuse me, who are you?”

“You already forgot me? Please don’t say such things Nithu.”

“I am going to hang up if you don’t tell me who you are.”

“Oh god! Nithu, this is Siddarth, your classmate from DU.”

“Siddarth? I don’t know any Siddarth, how do you know my number?”

“Nithu what’s wrong with you? When are you coming back? I want to talk to you in person about our relationship.”

“Hello! What relationship? Is this some kind of prank? Honestly, I don’t know any Siddarth.”

“Please Nithu don’t say such things.” He was almost crying.

“Oh God! Seriously man, I don’t know any Siddarth! Why are you crying?”

“Nithu we loved each other. I’m your boyfriend- sorry I was your boyfriend- Don’t you remember anything? what happened to you?” He was still crying.

I was shocked but his words sounded true; do I really have a boyfriend? But I had never dated anyone in my life.

“First stop calling me ‘Nithu’ and I’ve never had a boyfriend. I don’t know who you are! How did you get my number? What do you want?”

“Finally, you asked the right question” said a normal male voice on phone.

“What do you want? “I asked again.

“MyCoke and chips - I am waiting here.” said the anonymous voice.

And then, it struck me.

“You idiot, Arjun! You scared me.”

“Wow, I scared you? I take that as a compliment” said Arjun sounding very amused.

“Go to hell, how did you get my number anyway?” “I have some special powers Nithu. How are you doing over there?” He sound like a child.

“I was fine here until an idiot named Siddarth called me and spoilt my mood.”

“It was just a joke. I wanted to cheer you up since we weren’t together”, he added, “By the way, who’s Siddarth- your boyfriend?” He was teasing me.

I was annoyed. He seemed like a sincere and decent guy - that’s what made me talk to him at first. I found him to be cool and sensible. I easily get bored with people when I spend much time. But I never thought he would fool me. I couldn’t believe he played such a good one on me.

After a long pause I answered “Whatever it is - this isn’t funny Arjun. Bye.” I hung up.

After a minute or less I got a text message from him.

Really sorry if you are hurt.
P.S. Do bring my lays and coke.
Hoping the next station comes soon.
Yours lovingly, Siddarth
haha sry sry...... Arjun

I couldn’t stop laughing after seeing the text. He was playing with me and I had to get back at him. Just then, I saw a small child begging. I thought of giving him some money but instead, I gave him the coke and chips that I had bought for Arjun. The kid smiled at me and thanked me with his eyes. He did not need to say anything.

Of course, the train’s slowing down. I wished train would stop so that I could go to my compartment and beat up Arjun.. Luckily, there’s a red signal and the train stopped before we reached the next station. Without any delay I got down with my cover and I checked my mobile again and started walking .
/*ting*/ I got a text message from Arjun (as expected): Welcome back Yours lovingly .
.
. (I scrolled down expecting Siddarth again)
..

.

Arjun I don’t know if it meant something or if it was one of his jokes. Something in it struck me but I liked it.

ARJUN AND NITHYA

As she approached their compartment, she saw him get down and wait for her eagerly. But neither of them said a word. This mutual silence went on for a few minutes. He couldn't bear this silence but he doesn’t want to speak first. But he did take the initiative. /*ting*/ Her mobile received another text: Silence is meant for scholars not for idiots like us.
We must share our knowledge by talking.
A gorgeous girl once told me so.
What do u say Nithya? She read the text, lifted her head up and looked unflinchingly into his eyes. He was trying to make her laugh by pulling funny faces and miming. Inside, she wanted to burst with laughter and joy but she didn’t want to break the silence either.

There was an old man in the compartment who had observing their antics. “Where were you all this time, my dear?” he asked Nithya.

“I was in another compartment Grandpa - I almost missed the train.”

“Oh Thank God! This young man here was sad and I thought it was because you were gone.” He pointed to Arjun he added, “You will not believe me but he even cried, poor soul.”

Arjun’s face turned red.

Nithya turned to Arjun and asked “Did you really cry for me?”

Arjun said “I missed you and I was sad about that but never cried.”

She’s inwardly very pleased but still persists on teasing him. The old man stared at them and then gave up trying to understand to the joke and went back to his book.

“So, why did you cry Arjun?” Nithya asked.

“Hmm.. It wasn’t the same without you, this place felt so dull, I felt like I lost something important then I even thought of pulling the chain to stop the train, but didn't cried” He said.

How sweet!! She thought, “Aha then why didn’t you?” she said with a smile which he was waiting for all this time.

The charm in her smile made him remember why he actually cried,

“I’m sure that you’ll hit me if I tell you the real reason”, Arjun answered smiling.

“It’s ok tell me why, I won’t beat you”

“Actually it isn’t me who cried.”

“Who’s it then?” “It’s your boyfriend Siddharth” he added “When I was playing that prank on you, I cried to just make it look more real, That’s all.” he burst.

They both laugh for what seems like forever. Finally he asked “Ok, where are my chips and coke?”

Nithya doesn’t know how to answer that question. Suddenly she realized the kid whom she offered them was walking right next to their window. With an innocent expression on her face she pointed towards the kid eating lays and drinking the coke. Arjun’s out of words, he couldn’t believe she did that just to tease him. The train whistled and slowly left the station as the real journey started…

After 12 hours they arrived at Delhi. But as it later turned out, they were destined to make many more journeys together.

SIDDHARTH

After 14 years Arjun and Nithya are blessed with a 10 year old son whom they named Siddharth.

And each night they would tell him their story.

And they would remind him that in life, the journey is the destination.

Once Upon the Tracks of Mumbai: A Review

noreply@blogger.com (Test The Waters) — Fri, 15 Mar 2013 04:44:00 +0000

By Amrita Paul

A thing or two about a great narrative is that it keeps its readers hooked on to it, till the very end. Rishi Vohra’s “Once upon the tracks of Mumbai” could have been that and much more. Except that it’s not. Rising out of stereotypes which is more or less definitive of Mumbai, this is the story of Bubloo, a “schizophrenic” who resides in the railway colony of Bandra, frequently obsessing over his physical self –“I was only five feet eight inches tall, but athletic and well built .... My straight, silky black hair stopped just above my shoulders, giving me a wild unkempt look. My face was long and chiselled and my jaw line well defined ...”

He is the prodigal son who is unable to decide what to do with his life and his diminutive existence is of no concern to anyone, even his family who keep citing the example of his brother Raghu, who was doing quite well for himself. The only silver lining is Vandana, who is pretty of course but kind hearted Bubloo does like her for her nature and for hearing him out when clearly nobody else is in a mood to.

This is the story of Bubloo, his journey from being a nobody to becoming someone of consequence. This is a story of man’s quest to defeat all odds and find him-self amidst the cacophonous environment of a posh Mumbai suburb. The characters could be better etched and not clichéd to the point where every character feels like a generalisation of a particular social class, gender and age. The characters are hardly well rounded, in the sense that they are either too good or too bad, just as you would expect in a bollywood flick, except here, in this novel, the entire razzmatazz just does not work to the benefit of the plot.

It is an easy read, which is one of the better things about this book. But it somehow fails to move me. Babloo is mentioned to have been autistic and psychotic, yet in the book he comes across as someone plain foolish. It becomes so difficult to empathize with him when he is so obviously concerned mostly about his physical self, which comes to his rescue when everything else fails. His plight is only his, because even when he finds his redemption, it feels as if he is only emulating heroes on screen by beating up the bad guys rather than doing it out of the sheer injustice of a the given unfortunate situation.

The end, too, is hardly a surprise. As a first time author, Rishi Vohra has tried incorporating a lot of issues in this novel, instead of dealing with just one or two at a time, which makes the story fall flat, to a certain extent. The city of Mumbai perhaps plays the most important character of being ruthless yet beautiful, observant yet distant. Vohra has described the city and its lifeline – the railway tracks, accurately which adds to the benefit of his story but only if his characters were of stronger mettle instead of being so obvious all the time, “Once upon the tracks of Mumbai” could have made for a much better book.

| articles | email | blog

Amrita Paul

I write. I read. I eat. I sleep (a lot ). Oh yes, Chick flicks make me cry and I love dogs. Some say I am a feminist, I say- " Is it necessary to define every ounce of passion arising from an individual?" I think not. Anyway that is me :)

On The Edge

noreply@blogger.com (Test The Waters) — Wed, 13 Mar 2013 05:09:00 +0000

By Sai Nisanth D.

The evening sun seemed obstinate in not going down below the horizon. He had been watching its transition right from the time it burnt bright red till its present color of pale orange, not that it registered in his mind anyway. All of nature’s diverse beauty was lost on him. Neither the sweet sounds of the birds chirping away, nor the melodious evening breeze, nor the golden color of the sky, stirred any form of feeling in him. He stared down at the hustling river flowing a hundred feet below the cliff on whose edge he stood. He imagined how it would feel when his body hit the piercing rocks that stood towering over the waters. All he was sure of was that his lifeless body would sink into the bottomless depths of the river never to be seen again. Two steps…two steps, a hundred feet free fall and death would embrace him. He wanted no more than to welcome it with open hands.

As he contemplated his next move all those wonderful and seemingly timeless meetings he had with her at this very place came flooding back to him. Jane-the only girl he had ever truly loved. He had gone through the intense trauma of watching helplessly as the car hit her just as she was crossing the road to get to him. He had made up his mind-a world without her was not worth living. He had decided it was time to end the pain once and for all. He took one step forward…he was not scared...but he still couldn't block her out of his mind…what if he survived somehow? No he couldn't allow that-he wanted no favors from the death gods. For a second, half his body was in mid air toying with his other half to follow suit; he struggled with himself but his body just wouldn't budge and he pulled back. “F*ck” . He cursed out loud.

A week…2 weeks…a month…3 months. He was back to square one. He had tried many times in the interval. Google had provided a few innovative ideas even. He had nearly died laughing at them. But he just couldn't get himself to do it. Life had not been kind to him the last few months, he had not been kind to himself rather. He had more drinks than all of his friends combined-surprising given that he had never touched alcohol in his life before her death. When even drink could not take the pain away, he turned to drugs.

Large chunks of time in his life seemed missing when he looked back at the last few weeks. Drugs-he seemed to have found the perfect respite. Jane.There she stood right in front of him. She was beckoning him to come to her. He laughed at his own insanity. But then again what if it was no illusion? Don’t kid yourself, something told him. He staggered towards her- dizzy and his head throbbing and on the verge of explosion.” My Jane, my only love, please don’t leave me again….”

Eyewitnesses recounted that they could only watch in shock as they saw the drunk lad run towards the speeding car.

Edge Of Oblivion

noreply@blogger.com (Test The Waters) — Sun, 03 Mar 2013 20:47:00 +0000

By Jessy John

Standing on the edge of oblivion,
Unsure of what is to come,
I stand gazing at the clouds.

In expectation of some wet shower,
For the fragrance of the misty dawn,
The softness of the moist green grass,
And that which my soul longs for.

The rings of light reflect on my eyes,
Spreading vivid colors of blue and yellow.

A beautiful day so naive and fresh,
Yet I stand solitary, awaiting the beginning.

It is not for me to gather,
Why you choose to stand afar,
And stare and me with unsaid words,
Of love or hate and whatever else.

Won't you whisper the endless tune?
Won't you awaken the intense verve?
Or will you fade away too,
Soon as the dusk falls upon the scape?

Source : behance.net

Still I stand solitary,
Gazing the rain less clouds.

About the write : Voracious reader. A lover of words, colour, and music.

Why I Miss Old Bollywood

noreply@blogger.com (Test The Waters) — Sun, 03 Mar 2013 06:13:00 +0000

By Daneshwari Mirji

Movies! What comes to your mind, when I say this?

Friendship, love, romance, family, fiction, horror, action, comedy, science- technology, adventure and what not?

People always say, “You want to enjoy? Forget your worries? Go for a movie!”

Want to laugh your heart loud?

Go for a movie!

But I say - Want your heal your own pain? Need to know the real meaning of words; Family, friendship, love, tragedy, feelings, etc.?

Then go for an Old movie!

Yes! If you ask me to mention 10 of my favorite movies, 9 of 10 would be the old ones! Initially & frankly speaking, I am person who is too emotional, sensitive & nostalgic! A person who loves romance!

Now the question is, Why I love Old Bollywood?

The yesteryear stars of Bollywood have been replaced with money-hungry, silicone filled & toothpick actress. Gone are the old days of sensible hugging, where even a kiss on a cheek or forehead would be so passionate, a single drop of tear in lovers eyes would make you shed a tear too! Nowadays, even the lip-locks aren’t so passionate! Those shimmery dresses, covering a girl from top to bottom that would give a gorgeous feminine look! That glamour is still classy!!

How can you ever forget those breath-taking movies? From Sholay, Ek Duje Ke Liye, Mother India coming to Veer-Zara, Dil, DDLJ!

Some of my favorite dialogues:

K3G - "Zindagi main agar kuch bana ho kuch hassel karna ho tu hamesha apne dil ke suno or agar dil bhi jawab ne de to ane aankhen bhand karke apne maa or bapa ka naam lo, phir dekhna har mushkil assan ho jayage, jeet tumhare hoge, sirf tumhare"

KKHH - "Hum ek bar jitne hain, ek bar marte hain, shadi bbhi ek bar hoti hain, aur pyar... ek hi baar hota hain"

Have you ever seen the movie ‘Anand’?

The most inspiring, motivating one I have ever seen. Ultimate comedy, that makes you laugh until you cry, & sometimes tears just roll down leaving you emotional. Describing about the man, who looked future with positive attitude, when he knows his life is too short then.

Mother India, a nationalistic, tale of human flaws, which touches your soul, ultimately making your eyes moist.

DDLJ, the most romantic movie by Yash Chopra, it’s not only a love story, but tells you about our Indian culture, tradition & patriotism.

Amar-Akbar-Anthony: Describing about the ultimate family-love! Making eyes wet, even of the people who didn’t sob even once in movies.

Must watch movies, at least once in your life, I say!

Not forgetting, the very old Hollywood movie: ‘The Wizard Of Oz’

The quote by Judy Garland:

“For it was not into my ear you whispered, but into my heart.

For it was not my lips you kissed, but my soul!”

Still brings me goose bumps, whenever I hear or read it!

Stunning & evergreen lines!

Yes! The Old Bollywood, I don’t know, How many hearts it touched! How many souls it healed!

Made you smile, when you are in tears;

Made you cry, when you were smiling!

Also made you laugh, with tears in your eyes!

Forgive Me Father For I Have Sinned

noreply@blogger.com (Test The Waters) — Fri, 01 Mar 2013 14:51:00 +0000

By Anonymous

Confession #666 (at least in a perfect universe)

Well, you got me. This is most definitely my first (and hopefully last confession), but keeping in mind that I hope to be the next Ashish Shakya (and by next I mean better looking and richer), it’s safe to assume that I’m a devout man who talks to God every night before I go to bed.

I get it, writing exams are a painful process. And when you’re an engineering student in a premier institute of the country, you’ve got nothing much to look forward to apart from a 9-to-8 IT job. A job which might pay a ton of money but is still useless since you probably can’t even approach the hot girl at the bar to buy her a drink. Stress busters are important. No, I don’t mean the perfectly innocent looking 50GBfolder marked Miscellaneous Foreign Studies.

Lo and behold! The Facebook “Confessions” pages come to your rescue. Take your pick, there are over a gazillion confession pages for the IIT’s , NIT’s, BITS and other forgettable institutes filled with completely believable and infallible truths about pranks, sexual escapades and romantic feelings for one’s roommate/roommate’s girlfriend. Honestly, I’ve been glued to the pages myself, leading me to realize that I’m probably no better than the moronic jackasses I call my wing mates who almost drool when they came across posts like , “I was having kinky sex with my boyfriend behind the library”. Personally, I don’t believe it’s true, but kudos to aforementioned boyfriend otherwise. But true or false, we’ve once again hit upon the secret that Chetan Bhagat has so exquisitely exploited. Literotica sells, and every horny college student’s buying. Nobody really cares about the validity, but everyone’s got an opinion, and everyone’s hooked. We all want to know who’s cheating on whom, who got completely sloshed and peed all over the professor’s door and who cheated on a test.

But sometimes, more engaging than the event itself, are the discussions that follow-

Newspaper Journalist, (and believer in the one true higher power, Arindham Choudhary) – “*insert premier college name* students are changing the way we think and revolutionizing social media!”

Professor #1- “These students are a disgrace to our college and are bad mouthing this great institute where we tirelessly teach and care about our students!”

Student #1- “Screw everybody! FREEDOM OF SPEECH!! INQILAB ZINDABAD! This is the power of the youth! We shall do and say what we feel like, and shove wickets up the Australian’s asses in the next test.”

Professor #2 - “We will find these cheating rascals and rusticate them immediately! No mercy should be shown!”

Student #2 - “Anyone want to meet behind the library tonight?”

One point everyone does seem to agree on is that this occurrence is just a one-off, and people will completely forget about it soon enough. That’s about as truthful as Pawan Bansal’s assertion that the Railway Budget was made keeping in mind the needs of the common man. As long as the confessions keep coming, we’re going to open that Facebook page and look at it, because deep down, we all want them to be true. We want to believe that we’ve got the potential to be as sexually deviant as the bored individuals on the campuses trying to ‘confess’ their sins away.

The world is going to try to get back to its previous state soon. We’ll be back to bashing Dhoni for being a horrible player despite his statistics in front of us; spokespersons will tell us that India-Pakistan relations need to be mended, and hopefully the next Madrid –Man Utd match will end a lot better than the previous one did. But one thing is certain, while the number of people liking the confessions pages everyday will drop soon enough; no one is going to forget that the pages exist. For the sole reason that they are addictive, especially the week before the exams.

So unless you’re really bored and want to read about what most college students want to achieve in four years, go try and do something more important with your time. I suggest running around the streets in a white undershirt screaming “Yippi kay yay MotherF***er”, because John McClane has returned.

Cooking Life with Salt, Pepper & Sugar

noreply@blogger.com (Test The Waters) — Thu, 28 Feb 2013 13:25:00 +0000

By Shruti Sen

It was time for dinner and I rushed to the kitchen, asking mom if the food was ready. I was more impatient than ever. Why wouldn’t I be? I had asked mom to make my favorite dish, Chicken Masala. Once the chicken enters her territory (read kitchen), that culinary art subdued within her is triggered. She begins with washing the chicken, skillfully assorting the varied spices, mixing them well in the correct proportion and providing the ideal amount of heat to it. As I see it coming my way, the smell itself is enough to give me a high. It’s now being served and the eyes solicit me to devour it while the mouth is busy anticipating its taste. Finally, a piece goes in and I all that I can utter in that state of rapture is, “Ah! What a delight”.

Now imagine if we could cook life as flawlessly as my mom cooked that chicken. If we could somehow find those secret ingredients, mix them in the accurate proportion using the most ideal conditions; won’t the result be equivalent to that of savoring a delicious treat? Yes indeed, only more powerful and finely tuned I assume. The mystery lies in finding those ingredients that would make life palatable for each one of us. It’s simple. Just like in the world of cooking, I figured, life also has three main elements that is Salt, Pepper & Sugar. All you need to do is put on an apron, a chef’s hat and place life in a hot pan filled with those mixed ingredients. The tricky part is to find this trio and make its best use. Salt, Pepper and Sugar here is the presence of those three significant people whom each one of us needs to cook a great life.

We all know that a dish without salt is like a pen without ink. It obviously is the most fundamental element. When it comes to life, Salt is the person who has to keep showing up so that you survive all the way till the end. That person is your absolute necessity. Each one of us radiates unique frequencies. There is always an antenna available in your surrounding that catches and records it. Salt is the one that carries the antenna. When you talk to them, you are amazed at the level of connection that is sparked in the air between you two. Late at 4am, when terrible thoughts hover above you and pour rain, this is the one ingredient which protects you. They listen to you patiently; provide you the warmth of support and you don’t need to fear about judgment too. That intense level of understanding leaves no scope for conflict. You either keep coming back to them or they keep showing up. Salt might not be able to teach you many values as you both have almost the same ideologies, their role is just to keep mending you each time you are in pieces. They make you an extension of their own self and would easily push boundaries in order to protect you from those who intimidate. Without Salt, it would be awfully difficult to find those precious moments of peace in this increasingly complex world. But take note that you refrain from sprinkling too much of it because then it loses its charm, leading to a life that is built only on one perspective. Like they say, add salt according to taste.

Be it at our home dining table or an eatery, you will always find pepper standing next to salt. But how many of us actually use it? Not many, I reckon. Not adding pepper doesn’t make food any less appetizing but when we do sprinkle it, the flavor reaches to a new level of culinary delight. In other words, it acts as a catalyst. Similarly, in life too we find Pepper doing that same job. This is the person that holds the mirror in front of you, unlike Salt that holds the antenna. Instead of connection, admiration is the end result here. Both of you stand at the edge of two extremes and keep bombarding each other with your own perspectives. They consume you and fill you simultaneously by shattering your little predefined world. This may sound disastrous, but actually it’s not. It’s a catalyst which binds you both together despite the prominent differences. So what they smash your belief, make you highly vulnerable and open the locked doors of addiction but on the other hand, Pepper gives you a new outlook towards life. They keep knocking you down and picking you up until the day you’ve learnt to stand up on your own. When you break down and look for support, they might not successfully comfort you but instead they’ll show you the difficult path that holds the destination of permanent healing. It is not for your survival that you need Pepper; you’re required to keep them around in order to undergo transformation and experience revelation. Yes, at times there is a strong urge to toss a stone at the mirror they hold before you, but no sooner you pick up the stone, you accidently gaze at your own reflection, wonder and accept the fact that you need to transform. Therefore, you are neither able to destroy the mirror nor painfully keep gazing at it forever. You both rejoice in being stuck until you are finally reinvented. So, unlike the oblivious people who choose to sprinkle only traditional salt over their feast, pick up pepper too and make it even more thrilling.

Doesn’t the slight sugary taste in a spicy dish add an edge to its complete flavor? It is the surprise element that rejuvenates your taste buds and pumps pleasure in your veins. It’s not hard to guess who would be termed as Sugar when it comes to life. We all know one person who remains happy no matter how hard the situation gets for you or them. If not for real, they are shockingly good pretenders of leading a fulfilled life. That is Sugar. They are a bundle of joy that brightens up your frame of mind with every interaction. It doesn’t matter if years have passed without any sort of contact. Once you are around them, everything is vivid, dynamic and enthralling in the world. There are so many exciting layers to their life that you stay active and entertained all throughout. Surprising you with their mantras of happiness and eventually pulling you inside the world that lives ‘for the moment’ are their favorite tricks. You might not be around them but only their thought in the dark gloominess sparks your soul and manages to draw a huge grin on your face. That is how vibrant and charming they are. Their intentions are neither to provide you continuous support like Salt nor to show you the path of transformation like Pepper. All that they are there for is to blow some glitter on your face so that you are surprised at their audacity to stay happy. Of course you can’t consume sugar everyday as it has its own hazards. Just when you need to break free from the customary Salt and Pepper, use Sugar once in a while as it’s enough to keep you energized for a pretty long time.

In the kitchen of life, we all have our own personalized jars of Salt, Pepper & Sugar. It’s time to bring them out, realize their potential and figure out the right proportion. Once you’ve done that, the fluctuating heat of circumstances will blend them together suitably and put Life served hot on your plate to dig in and relish.

About the writer: I'm a writer(sometimes a photographer) who weaves her lifestyle around curiosities of all sorts. That natural affinity towards creativity, music, advertising, abstractions & globalization is what keeps me going.

Who Paid You ?

noreply@blogger.com (Test The Waters) — Wed, 20 Feb 2013 11:17:00 +0000

By Reema D'souza

I woke up well before dawn,
'Cause there was something to which I was drawn!
I woke up after a dream,
An idea, a scheme!

It was all I thought about that day,
There was sunshine to make hay!
This went on for days and nights,
I finally decided that it had to see light!

I told the people around of my dream,
My plan to build a team!
I told I'd put my heart and soul,
Putting in everything to make it whole!

But the world laughed at me,
Stopped me from from thinking free!
Told I was crazy,
And that my vision was hazy!

They told it was a joke,
My dreams went up with the smoke!
They told I couldn't,
And so I shouldn't!

I was hurt,
Never thought the world would be so curt!
Tears filled my eyes,
Wished that the world would be nice!

My dreams were broken,
With the harsh words spoken!
I called myself a fool,
For letting my heart rule!

I felt the world was right,
And so I gave up my fight!
Wiped my tears away,
Decided to go the world's way!

The dream kept coming back,
But I never ventured on that track!
Did what I was supposed to,
Never thought about anything new!

If I couldn't, then I shouldn't,
And so I didn't!
I never gave it a try,
Bid my dreams goodbye!

Now I've almost reached the end,
Thinking about the life I could mend!
It's now too late,
I've surrendered my dreams to fate!

Source - Behance

I could have and so should have,
But I didn't, I may have!
And now my heart screams,
'Who paid you to give up on your dreams?'

Date A Girl Who Travels

noreply@blogger.com (Test The Waters) — Fri, 15 Feb 2013 13:23:00 +0000

By Hamsini

Date a girl who travels the world. Date a girl who lives on the edge with a vague but good plan for tomorrow and a good collection of memories from yesterday. Date a girl who walks the world with a bag on her shoulders and a crumpled dress inside in case she ever meets a nice guy. Date a girl who travels because she will be adventurous; she will be ready to rapple, to snorkel, to walk 36 kilometers to catch the sunset and to live in a sleeping bag under the stars as long as she wants to.

Date a girl who travels, because she can take care of herself. She will lift her own baggage and offer to carry yours too. She will almost always have mosquito repellant and an extra towel. She will know what local produce to buy irrespective of her being in Zijuantenejo or Sialkot. Date a girl who travels because she’s not going to be PMS and she’s not going to give a damn if you pretend you do. Date a girl who travels because after 36 hours of a bus ride with no pit stops, she will sink her teeth calmly into the first edible food you give her and not kick up a fuss about low fat produce.

Date a girl who travels, take her out some place nice to eat. She’s not going to care if it has three michellan stars as long as it’s nice food and good conversation. Take her out dancing; take her for a simple long walk in the park. She’ll be up for anything; concerts, art shows, car rallies and even bull fights - because a girl who travels is a girl who appreciates every type of culture.

Volunteer together at an orphanage in Burundi , Teach English to Tibetan monks in Northern India, help build houses for those who were displaced during the Haiti earthquake.

Take her to watch a foreign movie in a seedy theatre in a small town in the middle of nowhere. Tell each other bed time stories from all the folklore that you have heard on your own journeys. Trek to the top of a small hill, pitch a tent and just stay there plotting the movements of the sun and the stars. Rent a houseboat and try fishing. She’ll be up for it all and most of the time; she’ll be up half an hour before you making sure that you aren’t forgetting anything.

Photo credit - Priya Chowdhary

Date a girl who travels because chances are, she will always be fit. She’ll look pretty because of that freshness; the zest for life and have a spark in her eye. A girl who travels isn’t going to care how she looks and therein lies her charm. She’s not going to take bullshit from anyone, mind you! She could just turn around and give you the finger if you cross her threshold limit but that isn’t going to happen often. A girl who travels is going to have a calm head most of the time. And she isn’t going to put herself in danger - Because a girl who travels knows how important it is to be safe as a woman.

She’s not going to complain about how hard her bed is going to be, she’s going to be talking about the place you’re in, the amazing scenery and the people you meet.

Date a girl who travels because she is going to have seen much of the world and known enough of its beauty and its monstrosity alike. She will know how large the world is and how insignificant humans are that she will retain her humility. She will also know the importance of luck and fate and that’s why she will cherish your relationship.

A girl who travels will always have a steady supply of stories to go with hot chocolate but she will also know the importance of silence around a bonfire and she’ll converse with you by the flames in her eyes.

Date a girl who travels because she is desperately seeking some answers. Talk to her about the conception of the universe and God and humanity. Ask her about her family and her relationships and find out why she likes the wind in her hair. Tell her everything will be okay. Tell her how awesome it is that she is looking for the answers in her own way. If you’re lucky, she’ll ask you to accompany her on her trip. And we all know what that means.

| articles |email | blog

Hamsini
Basically I write, I read and I dream up fairytales. The rest of the time, I nibble at food, sing songs off tune, and pretend to be a hotshot photographer. I also love the wind in my hair, basking in the sun, a healthy dose of cynicism and coffee on the rocks.

Justice Delayed, But Finally Delivered

noreply@blogger.com (Test The Waters) — Sun, 10 Feb 2013 10:22:00 +0000

By Pradyut Hande

A little over 11 years after the brazen terror attack on the Parliament House, New Delhi which claimed the lives of 10 and further endangered those of many others; Afzal Guru was finally hanged to death for his involvement in the same conspiracy. His hanging has perhaps ended one of the most protracted and sordid chapters in the country's annals. The unexpected timing of the authorities' decision, far away from the prying eyes of the media, may have come as a surprise to many; particularly those who believed Guru would remain on death row for a fair while longer. However, after having his plea for clemency rejected by the President, Mr. Pranab Mukherjee, on February 3, 2013; it was only a matter of time before Guru trudged his way to the gallows.

Afzal Guru's Hanging and India's Ongoing Battle against Terrorism

Whether the move was politically motivated is subject to debate at this juncture of time, but what can be said with great certitude is that the Government of India has sent a strong message to current and potential perpetrators of such heinous acts. Adopting an inexorable garb of staunch intolerance, backed by iron-clad legislative deterrents and an efficacious judiciary, is the first step towards addressing terrorism at large. Waging war on the country by "conspiring to attack and overpower a sovereign democratic institution by using powerful arms and explosives and imperiling the safety of a multitude of people's representatives, constitutional functionaries and officials of the Government of India and engaging in a combat with security forces" is an unpardonable terrorist act of the "gravest severity". It may have taken 11 years for "justice to be delivered", but Guru's hanging, close on the heels of that of Mumbai terror accused, Ajmal Kasab's, will have far reaching ramifications at multiple levels.

To us, Afzal Guru was a well chronicled militant functionary who dared to indulge in a despicable act of terrorism against his country of birth with blatant disregard for life and property. However, he will now be perceived as a martyr by those sympathetic to his "cause"; a Soldier of God who perished in the pursuit of "jihad". So while on the one hand, his hanging, in addition to being the deliverance of justice; serves a powerful and purposeful message of deterrence to those of his ilk, on the other, he is now a symbol of defiance and inspiration to thousands of radicalised Islamic youths in the troubled Kashmir Valley and its surrounding regions. The "situational dichotomy" is worth taking note of. The Government has already acted with alacrity to ensure that the law and order situation in the volatile region remains stable in the aftermath of Guru's execution. The imposition of a blanket indefinite curfew may further rankle the Valley's already irate denizens, but is imperative in the present scenario. All it takes is a spark of agitation to snowball into a conflagration of conflict; more so in a fragile and fractured region like the Kashmir Valley.

Many believe Afzal Guru should have been hanged a lot earlier, expediting the delivery of justice and saving millions in tax payers' money, in light of the fact that he was awarded the capital punishment by the Supreme Court way back in 2005. Questions surrounding the legal process that ensured a sizable delay in his execution, abound. There have also been questions raised regarding the dilution of due legislative process that may have sent Guru to his death sooner than initially anticipated. However, acting in national interest and fueled by public anger, the Government eventually had to act and bring down the curtains on the long drawn saga. The alternate school of pro-life, death penalty-averse human rights proponents may decry the sudden hanging. However, their voices are being drowned out by those of every jubilant citizen.

India's battle against the faceless and monolithic scourge of terrorism remains continual. Similarly, given her rapidly rising socio-economic stature on the global arena, the endeavour to unleash instability and inflict mass damage and casualties on the part of such terrorists, is continual as well. The death of a single Afzal Guru although important, is never going to be enough. We can hail, celebrate, condemn or criticise his execution; but our singular "war on terrorism" is an every day battle that is far greater in magnitude and significance; and always will be.

The Match Seller

noreply@blogger.com (Test The Waters) — Sun, 10 Feb 2013 07:36:00 +0000

By Khyati Agarwal

This story here is not exactly an original. It’s the one which I heard from grandparent’s ages ago and would like to share with you. It has been modified in many ways and the writing is mine but if anyone is familiar with the original story, feel free to share it.

She was walking gracefully on the stony platform. She was barefoot. She had a plaid green shawl thrown across her shoulders. She wore a long flowing skirt on which, at places there was some patchwork. She wore a dirty cashmere sweater with gaping holes in it. She had large, beautiful, expressive grey eyes that took me in completely when she asked me to buy a packet of matchsticks from her. Yes, she was a match-seller.

I was going to Petersburg to visit a friend of mine. At Volkan (I think, that was the name), a station just before Petersburg, I opened the window to let the fresh air pour in. I was grateful for the freshness despite the icy cold breeze. It was then that she came up to me with her large innocent eyes and asked me to buy a match box. I stared at her fixedly for half a minute and was wondering who would send their child in such frigid a weather, barefoot? She seemed around twelve years old. She requested me in earnest and her eyes seemed to be pleading to buy a match and not drive her away as the rest did. I obliged. I rummaged in my cloak pocket for a rouble. I handed her the money and she gave me a couple of matchboxes. She smiled and said, “Spasibo bolshoe". Her eyes lit, she went off in the other direction, selling matches. Her smile passed on to me and I retained it for the rest of my journey. Why, though? I do not know!
………………………………………………………………………….
Two days later, the cold became severe. The girl at the Volkan station was shivering uncontrollably. She had to sell her daily quota of matchsticks otherwise she be thrashed by her step-father. She remembered the last thrashing and winced involuntarily. The bruise on her elbow still hurt. She sighed deeply. The only one who ever loved her was her grandmother. She was the one who consoled her and made her feel worthwhile. She was the reason, the girl smiled. But apparently God needed her grandmother more and so he took her away about two months ago. After her demise, it was a miracle if she could manage her daily meals.

Waking from her reverie, she walked and walked, convinced that someone would buy her matches. Suddenly, snowfall started. She sat in the corner near the bookstall and observed the passengers. She could not discern their shapes in the dark so she decided to light a match which would keep her warm and would let her observe the people. But she had to be economical in her usage of matches, lest her father hit her.

She lit a match and a wave of warmth shot through her whole body. In its light, she caught a glimpse of a strong man with broad shoulders, dressed in a crisp, black business suit, a camel-skin overcoat, sleek and shiny leather boots and a grave looking briefcase. Seeing him, she remembered, as if from a past life, a period of prosperity when she was with her mother, grandma, and her stepfather. They lived in a large mansion with all the comforts and luxuries one could dream of. This was before her mother’s death. Afterwards, her stepfather (a drunkard) recklessly spent all their money in gambling and they became virtually beggars. The flame came very close to her hand. She couldn’t hold it any longer. She let the match drop. It extinguished, taking away all its light and all its warmth with it.

Photo credit - Aditi Shrivastava

She lit another match and in its light, she saw an old lady cajoling a five year old and she was forcibly reminded of her grandmother. The match again, became too hot to hold and she let it drop with a sigh. She felt a little dizzy so she leaned her head against the wall and closed her eyes. The cold was intense. Her toes and fingers were all numb, her lips blue and her teeth were chattering continuously. She kept delaying on the lighting of the third match. She shivered, both from the cold and the fear of being flogged by her stepfather for wasting too many matches.

Ultimately, she had to give in. The cold was unbearable. She lit the third match and lo! She saw her grandma! She was pearly white and translucent. But she was her grandma, the person whom she had thought of the most that night. The girl grinned happily as her grandma spread her arms wide for the little match girl to hug her. There was warmth all around her grandmother and the girl welcomed it as she embraced her.
………………………………………………………………………….
Next morning, the train stopped at the station and I got out of my compartment in the expectation of seeing the match girl again. I couldn’t find her and was filled with a sense of foreboding. After much searching, I found her sleeping blissfully under the cover of a white blanket. On her face was an exuberant smile, her now no more bright eyes were open whilst the snowflakes rested on their lashes and beside her lay three matchsticks. She was dead. And I was sickened to the core.

I asked the owner of the nearby bookstall about her. He said the severe cold must have killed her. He added it was best for her as her father treated her like an animal. He said the authorities had been informed. I walked up to her, closed her laughing eyes which mocked the world and stood rooted to the spot until the final call for the train leaving registered in my brain and I ran for my compartment.

The image of the girl under the snowy blanket and her dazzling smile was now branded in my memory. I couldn’t shake it off. I couldn’t help but wonder what was the reason for that peaceful, serene smile of hers. She would have seen an apparition of sorts, I concluded. For who would smile so jovially when sent out to sell matches in this cruel cold? Yes, she would have seen an angel. But she would never say anything about this. I would never know…