#2: Forsaken soul

"Don't go out yet!" we said. "Your talks with that friend are ever on the rise. 

Talking about our household is not wise."

The light left her eyes, shoulders stooped, she slunk back on her chair.

"She's back from the village with a gift. Taking it, I think, is fair."

We stopped short of words. Yet again we were too hasty and judging.

The househelp across the lane had the comfort only a friend could bring.

Staring at the soppy serial on TV, her only distraction, her eyes welled with tears,

"You wouldn't know what it is to be alone, and to live in fear."

A sharp intake of breath we took. She was right, and we hadn't thought,

What it could be like to lose every loved one life had brought.

There had been a home with Mother and Sister and Goats in a far-off village,

Before it crumbled while she had been away, all mercilessly pillaged.

The Mother and Sister killed by some kin,

And no one to arrest them for committing the sin.

For we live in a country where the mighty rule,

The honest and the hard-working man is just a fool.

So it was that she lost her family, for the kin lusted for her life too,

She gave up her hard-earned money to another greedy sister, for there was nothing she could do.

The greedy sister, sent off at birth to a kin-woman who wanted her, became bitter,

To the birth-mother; she felt no sympathy for her remaining sister.

Yet we wondered what made this lonely girl do things for the greedy one,

"She's the only family left... I'm doing what I would anyway have done."

Cleaning, cooking, washing, answering throughout the day,

A few minutes of solace with a friend are for play.

Yet she is hindered. By the time we realize our mistake,

She has taken to sleep, lost in a world we are not allowed to take.

---

The hero on a rainy morning...

Thank you for reading this poem. I'm glad I wrote it. It makes me feel more aware and empathetic towards a girl I've known for more than eight years, a girl who isn't my sister, yet I've lived under the same roof as her, a girl I've seen striving to be good at everything she learns. It was a hard blow to her (and us) when news of the tragedy that befell her home reached us. We cannot really imagine how she feels to live in such a world. Yet, I've seen her laughing more than I've ever done, and I wonder at that. I don't like the communication gap we have. We don't have long talks. It gets awkward when we do try. I'm annoyed at something most of the times, and it nearly always goes to her. Sometimes I feel like crying if I think of my behaviour considering her situation, because it makes me feel ashamed of myself, of all of us who, after an initial "I'm sorry", tend to forget all about another's tragedy. Every life counts, and each one of it should be celebrated with love and care. Thinking about it just now, I think it would be a good amend to renew what I had started long ago and left too soon without completing it--to teach her to read and write in Hindi. What's the point of being a lover of words when I can't share the love with someone I actually do care about? You rock, V. You'll never read this, but from among this love-hate relationship, love rules. 

***

I am participating in the National Poem Writing Month (NaPoWriMo). It was a suggestion by a friend, and I readily accepted mostly because I had been craving to get back to blogging, but somehow had not been able to manage it. I've never been into poems. The only poetry book I own was acquired a few days ago, as a gift. But I hope to express my thoughts, realize some truths in the process of writing, and share it on this blog with NaPoWriMo. And oh, the most exciting part about this "project" is that I'm competing with this blogger-friend. We're going to see who writes better, each day. We realized that to get into that writing frame of mind, we needed to be regular, and this could just be the thing. And to keep us motivated, what's better than a challenge? We can self-judge (assuming you guys would be too busy to comment or anything), but you are free to give your opinion! It would inspire us even more! This is tagged #2 because it is April 2 today. We forgot to begin it yesterday. :P

You can participate in NaPoWriMo too. Click here. 

The real, real world.

My life as a child was always guarded. No going out after dark, following rules related to play time and hours, no going out alone, no travelling on the roads, no going to friends' houses that are more than half a kilometer away, no staying over at any relative's (no matter how close the relation), no school 'counties' or picnics unsupervised by teachers. The fact that I was a book addict, craft lover, and generally loved spending time solving puzzles or drawing and creating things or playing our own version of Legends of the Hidden Temple with G, I grew up a guarded, careful person.

Most of the restrictions vanished when I began college, but the idea of caution was deeply ingrained, and even though I was naturally a super-adventurous soul always looking for action, what seemed on the surface was exactly the opposite. The main reason was that no matter how reckless I felt, there was always an edge of practicality. It seemed like I was missing out on things, but in reality, I was just keeping myself safe. Yes, there are a lot many proponents of the idea that you need to experience everything in order to know things, but I don't believe in it. Why do you need to go through a difficult situation that gives you pain? I believe that when you do encounter a difficult situation, you will anyway face it no matter what you've faced in the past. So if I decide to avoid situations that I feel would make me uncomfortable, then it's my right and well, I am right. :P

In this whole manner of growing up, I developed an idea, or rather, a way of thinking that made people say that I 'live in the clouds'. I was always optimistic for the most part, believed that whatever view I have of the world, it would be just like that, thought that good things happened to good people, that I will be all right if I did everything right. Most of all, I fought with the idea that I cannot live my life happily if I always stayed 'in the clouds'. It was a safe place, and I wanted to stay there. It was a good way to live life. I did encounter my own share of sorrows, but I was always hopeful.

Nearly a year after completing formal education, I still believe in all those things. After all, isn't it difficult to start thinking along different lines than what you've always been used to? But this time, it is slightly different. Even though I believe in all those things, I now also know the 'whys', I've also witnessed and understood things I never wanted to believe existed, and I've developed an even bigger need to stay closer to God. Thankfully, my core beliefs remain the same, but I will not hide the fact that living in 'real life' made me very sad. It showed me that the things I thought were so bad they shouldn't exist, would not just exist, but also exist eerily close to me. It's really strange how different everything becomes once you get really independent, and that in this city, is when you start working.

What made me sad?

- Looking at people making a living by fooling other people, and supporting all the wrong kind of things. The really worrying thing is, there seem to be so many people living along these lines, and what they wear as a facade is so convincing, that unless you have great observation and are not easily moved by marketing efforts (that is, if you are someone like me), you wouldn't even realize what kind of lies people live with. When you are used to being ethical and honest, you feel suffocated if you are put in an environment that thrives on lies.

If lying wasn't bad enough, there's this whole idea of showbiz, and by God, it is something I can NEVER like or appreciate, no matter how people might think it to be 'entertaining'. It is not entertainment to me, it's being vile and idiotic and making fun of people who don't know any better. And I loathe people who pull off lies as acts, not knowing how stupid they look to those who know the truth, and how they're being marked by God as mere idiots who are spoiling His world. Besides, people (businesses, politicians, marketers) who make it a business of cheating people, not only cheat those outside the organization, but also their own employees.

- Looking at people who are just so delusional. I cannot stress on the gravity of delusion so many people seem to be living in. One category is that of the super-rich who believe they can buy their way into anything. And the sad fact is that they usually can, and then they believe that they're the winners. Another category belongs to the self-obsessed people. But then, what can we say about the common people if the head of the country is the biggest of them all? 

- Realizing that good can happen to people who are good and also to the vicious ones. The same goes for difficulties. God made us all equal and he treats us equally. Karma takes its own role, but for the most part, what happens to us depends on our own selves - are we a minority caste in a bigoted country? Are we poor? Do we have 'contacts'? How you enjoy the good and avoid the bad are basically based on these factors, not God.

- Witnessing alarming amounts of mindless, idiotic acts every day. People seem to have lost all faculties of mental reasoning. Life seems artificial when you look around and feel that so many young people prefer parties over spending time with family, prefer cricket matches and stupid movies over spiritual or intellectual talks, prefer spending thousands in one restaurant meal over giving a small bit of money to the homeless. Then there are events and acts that make no sense whatsoever. And let's not even begin talking about the differences in men and women. I cannot keep on harping about those, so I'll stop now and keep this post short. 

In between all this lies the happy world of a family and loved ones, best friends and of course, so many books waiting to be read. I've read such a vast variety of genres and themes, authors and writing styles in the past one year, that it makes me feel scared that I would die before I got to read them all! :P All this offers a constant assurance that one person can make a difference, and if you stay true to yourself and ignoring the negativity, try to spread the good things as much as you can, it will be all right. :) 

What I now know...

... and maybe I already did, but you can only learn without experience up to a limit. Then you're faced with different situations and you realize and accept things much better than how you did before. It's just that age thing, isn't it? Some things you just understand when it's 'time'. When I started writing on this blog, I was an energetic, excited, protected, fun-loving, eager-to-participate kind of a girl, fresh into college, wondering why one of my closest college friends didn't seem too happy, or as excited as I was about college. She said she didn't like the 'people' and the negatives emanating from them drained her. She even went on to say that "I" am the reason she's able to stay. I don't know if she would read this, but I have to say that it is now that I understand how she felt. I loved that college, more than what I showed and maybe it's because the present one makes me feel like the way she felt back then. I know now. I also know, or let's say, I understand these as well:

1. You know how there are some people who're kind of dominating? The ones who suck out your energy because the way they look at you contrasts with what they speak, and it's unnerving. Sometimes they're just mean, the bad thing being they don't realize it and the worst of it being when they do know it, yet they'd still deliberately make someone feel bad about themselves, or not participate in their happiness, or visibly show they don't like them. This scared me at first, wondering what kind of a conscience they might have. Do they even have it? Why isn't it capable of killing them from the inside? And I know it doesn't, because they continue living in their self-created high bubble, among other similar meanies who know nothing better than to simply follow the leader, because they forgot they have their own brains. Well done, meanies. Now I just feel sorry for you, for the immense lack of understanding about people and emotions you have, because you're just so self-centered. 

They make others feel like this sometimes. :|

2. Victims of such psychological bullying may experience a shift in their personality, not necessarily a happy shift, and one which involves them losing their confidence, interests in activities they liked, hatred for people, a reluctance to talk to new people. They lose friends because meanies, making full use of the 'smart' tactics and the fact that people are vulnerable when tensed and are totally fickle minded, are able to successfully bad-mouth those who're totally unaware of it. The even smarter ones might not bad-mouth them, but would anyway make the rest feel someone else is just not good, or right, or nice enough. Another thing I noticed was how your behaviour towards a certain person can shift dramatically because someone close to you shifts their behaviour too. 

Meaning, you make the rest into meanies too. BAD influence.

Consider this example: I've always seen my parents being 'nice' to people. Never a rude word or impoliteness. I was scolded when I even said, "I hate.. so and so". Mom practically got a shock, saying how you can't really "hate" someone, it is such a wrong thing to do. I decided trying to work around it, to see only the good in people and I did succeed to some extent. Anyway, that's a different point. A few days ago I saw dad pass only a half-hearted smile to a neighbour, and even that shocked me because I always expected him to be nice. I asked, half-angrily why he didn't greet him properly and he said how he doesn't like their habit of always parking wrong, despite reminders. The point is, I don't like to see them being rude, I wonder how many times did their heart feel sad to see me talking like that. Now whenever I see that neighbour, despite trying to not think about it, I do get a glimpse of his personality clouded by the fact that he never listens to the parking problems. See? I don't even know his name and I'm judging him. See how meanies can affect someone's image in the same way? I understand now how this works.

3. There's this teacher we have, a visiting faculty, who intrigues me somehow with the simple, people-based things he talks about and makes those as the basis for teaching the otherwise mundane subjects. Once in a class he made a comment about mean people. Or those who dominate to work their way up, making others feel like hell in the process. He said they're actually quite insecure. And the way insecure people work is that they make others feel insecure about themselves and use it to feel better themselves. I've compared this statement with some meanies. With the recent inability/disinterest in talking at all, I've observed more than ever and it seems to be quite true. You see it in the way they'd look. 'Expressions' are called expressions for a reason. They tell you 90% of the things that are unspoken and also when what one says is conflicting with what they feel.

4. You behave differently in front of people you're not comfortable with and those with whom you gel well. I know, it's obvious, but there's more to it. You even behave differently with strangers when you're alone and when you're with someone you "have" to be with but you're not the buddy-buddy kind. They dominate you. Think about it. Imagine one person who may be in your college, a classmate you feel those negative vibes with, but you're just going somewhere work-related with them. You meet a stranger, maybe someone coming up to you to ask if you know the place they're looking for. If you'd been alone, you'd have felt more 'free' and like your own self and you'd have smiled wide and helped them. If you're with the meanie, you'd feel self-conscious because that's how pathetically they make you feel. You'd mumble something and look away as soon as the stranger left. 

There's this saying, 'people won't remember what you did for them, but they'll always remember how you made them feel'. I couldn't agree more, because you do remember. That's the way you remember people. Think about your school. You remember the bully with a frown because he made you feel bad back then, you remember your best friend with a smile, or even that sweet, helpful girl in class because she was always polite to you and made you feel respected. 

5. This is something that needs to go out as a message, because some people don't just realize it. It is **extremely** important to express your feelings or your thoughts when someone does something and is expecting it. People aren't telepathic, they won't know what you think unless you say it. Most of all when it is expected. *Biggest examples*: Go back to what you learned in Kindergarten. Say 'please', 'sorry' and 'thank you'. Often. USE these words to express your wish, your guilt, your gratitude. "Gratitude" is what you should feel, not jealousy or hatred. Someone passes you a water bottle, say Thankyou. You make someone wait for longer, say a Sorry and mean it! If you're asking someone to pick up your chai from the canteen, have the courtesy to ask with a Please, instead of ordering them around. People don't really mind doing these little things, but the way you say it makes a difference. I know it now.

Seriously.

Though I don't mean that you say it to make them happy and get the work done, not really meaning it yourself. Because there would be some people not giving a damn to someone's existence but would come running with fake puppy-pathetic faces asking for help with extended 'please's and 'thankyou's. Not cool. Not cool at all.

But I also know that the way to deal with meanies is to not give them any kind of satisfaction, or the illusion that they've succeeded. No matter what happens, you have to forget they made you feel bad, you have to get over it asap because it is only you who's going to get affected and learn to block them out as much as you can. You realize that some people are just not the effort, or your time. You may have still been kind and good, trying to make things better yourself, but sometimes it's just not worth it because some people aren't going to change. Those who do, well and good. But if they don't, learn to ignore (and this works best) and talk to those who make you feel better. Indulge in activities you liked, it may be harder but think about it: no one can make you lose interest in things you love. How can you let them? Be persistent, be focused, ignore the small talk, focus on the big picture and move on. Life is beautiful, cut the weeds out of it as frequently and clearly as possible. :) Keep smiling. :D

***

I hope you survived the emotional ride and made it here. I always focused on posting energetic, happy stuff on the blog, wanting to make this a place where people connect and feel good about themselves and their lives, just by knowing there's someone just like them out here, not afraid to talk about her life. I restricted myself from posting serious stuff like this, but then I really wanted to share these thoughts and since they're a part of me, the not-so-perfect life I have, it's just to say I'm just an ordinary person trying to lead a simple, ordinary life, which in itself is quite extraordinary these days, don't you think? ;) This too, is a part of me. :)

PS- I haven't been referring to anyone as such. Nor have I been the victim in all cases. This is the result of being quiet lately and observing more than ever. :D Agree on any of these?

'Something'

This was supposed to be an awesome post, the kind you feel like writing when you haven't written anything in a long time and you feel like you owe your lovely blog at least one amazing piece of writing, especially as it's always been there for you for your random musings at random times and you seem to forget it when you get 'too busy'. This was supposed to be something mind-numbing, earth-shattering, maybe about something so amazing that it'd draw everyone on the planet to go read it, maybe it could have gone viral, or maybe not, but it was definitely supposed to be 'something'. I admit. I'm still at a loss. This has happened before, in a much milder intensity and I always blame no one but myself for the lack of 'putting down thoughts as well as they deserve to be put down'. I still wouldn't blame anything, even though I am very much tempted to put in 'college' as a major reason. It might be, but I just don't care. I've always been a silent rebel. You give me something that threatens the things I love, I would mentally block it all and never even think the way you want me to. This is why I always dismissed those ideas when other people said they're 'too busy with work' to do the things they like. I thought you could be forever busy and still do it. "I" was doing it, so it's possible. 

But maybe it didn't occur to me until it happened. What if the work or the mental pressure of the sheer amount of nonsense you're subjected to everyday, all things that go against what you as a person believe in, how much effort it takes on your part to grasp any bit of your own beliefs and yourself so that those external forces don't make you lose yourself, drains you of any energy you might have left. What if, despite the 'materialistic' things going right, a nice college and subjects you might find interesting, you still feel horrible dragging yourself everyday? Hoping you'd like the exchanges between people? I thought I could manage it well, but maybe I was wrong. I mean, it's okay. It isn't as horrible as it is for other people maybe, but I'm just looking at what "I" deserve and these nonsense feelings are certainly not part of the package. I'll always fight for what I deserve and what I like, however much these things try to change all that. What would happen at the most? I wouldn't write a nobel-winning piece, I wouldn't have many people commenting, I would lose out on a few readers.

Does that matter to me? At a deeper level, yes it does. I do want to write amazing stuff, things I actually have in me and I know I can. I do wish I get back those readers who said they love what I wrote here. I know no one's gone, really. I seemed to be absent myself. But then it shouldn't matter as much and maybe it does not. Maybe I am more materialistic than I thought, but not as much as I'm thinking, either. This is not 'blogging' for me, it's writing. And I can live with anything but not without this ability to put things down like this. If there's anything I would be willing to rigorously fight for, it's my reading and writing, for without these I'd lose myself. I don't know much about anything apart from these two. What would I be if I am not able to make myself happy with these as well? Nothing. My college degree would hold no value. It would be, in the Indian 'job market' for which you're trained since college, made into machines and made to believe how working nonstop and relentlessly can bring you 'success', but not for me.

So even if this isn't an insanely makes-you-hyperventilate-kind-of-awesome post, one that I was aiming at, it's okay. Because it's just me and this blog and friends who understand. I know I could write that kind of a thing and I'll do it sometime, maybe without even realizing it. But for now, this is really satisfying and I'm happy. Y'know, the reason I feel like it's okay is more so because I do have crore things to do and I'm leaving all that for this. Tee hee! 

A really common quote thanks to social networks,
but it's awesome and true! :)

***

I had to ask. Did you know that our brains are actually not built for multitasking? I started reading this book last night, called 'Mastermind: How to think like Sherlock Holmes' and the second page in the Prelude said this and I went all, "Oh My God! Really? WHY!" Because yes you guessed it, despite having read hundreds of texts, I did not know this thing that my friends seemed to know already o.O I mean, when was it when I was first told how we are "supposed" to multitask to be able to be more awesome? Class 11? Yeah maybe. Definitely in the first year of college and I even remember proudly telling my seniors how good I am at multitasking, during some dumb interview for a dumb college society I was really enthu about (told you, I was completely mental back then). The point is, if because of multitasking, quoting the book, "our memory decreases and our general well-being suffers a palpable hit", why are we told it's something we should be good at? Hello? 

Thank you Sherlock. Now I'm really going to
read your books that I've had since childhood :P

This is why I seriously love books! Because they tell me what is right! People these days, just. can't. be. trusted. I know, it's because that is what 'the market demands'. Fast life, quick decisions, faster profit making. Jeez. But whatever. After reading, books and writing, I'm in love with my brain. However clumsy it might make me, I still am overly protective of its abilities. And if in some real life job interview they ask me if I'm good at multitasking, I'm going to quote this fact to them. Did you know Sherlock Holmes was an awesome observer because of mindfulness? And not multitasking? This seems like just a small fact but I've been hyperventilating about it since last night! It's like those two sentences attacked what I had been thinking since the past *counts on fingers* 5 years. OMG! 

I had to tell. Not any secret, you looking-for-gossip people! I must have mentioned how I love Mint Lounge, the Saturday edition of the Mint newspaper? God, I don't even read the main paper all week, which I should, MBA and all. But anyway, Saturdays? I so look forward to them! It's not business-y or economic-y, but there are views on related things and non-related things, all of them awesome. I don't know. I don't read it all and some Saturdays I don't find much that I'd like to read, but it always gives me that ecstatic feeling. I especially love this column called 'My Daughter's Mum' by Natasha Badhwar. I am not a mom so technically I couldn't have been able to relate to the stories, but I always can. And more than that I always feel so warm and emotional while reading those, whatever aspect of family life she writes on. 

I mean, it's Monday today. I picked up the paper on Saturday evening, when I got home and kept it on my bed along with some books (that really have nowhere else to go. Someone please donate me a shelf?). It was there all Sunday, being shifted from one room to the next as I looked for an opportune moment to read it. It was back on the bed at night. It's underneath my laptop on the dining table right now, where I left Aakar Patel's article on 'Why everything is not the government's fault' mid-way because I got a call from a mast friend and then I felt like writing. I'm always reading it like this, keeping it for a comfortable time because I don't wish to be disturbed and feeling all breathless while reading it. It's just a paper and I wouldn't even remember most of it maybe, but that's just how it affects me. :')

I need your help. To whoever reached here, I'm working on a live project involving opening up of a campus bookstore in our campus. Like a Bond, I took up the responsibility of looking after the inventory. So you know, I'm supposed to think of what would the bookstore actually sell. Important work, you see? So you gotta help me because yessss, I am very close to the deadline, so close that I can't even tell or else you'd think how BIG a procrastinator someone can be. Just know that you're supposed to reply maximum by tomorrow. :P Hey, I have done my homework, I'm just looking for more suggestions. So you're supposed to do this: Imagine you're in college and there's a bookstore in the campus. What would you like the bookstore to have for you, apart from academic books? (Unfortunately, they have to be stocked :P ) Would you like the general kind of Fiction that's available in normal bookstores? Is there something special you'd like to have? Any sort of merchandise? I'm not asking you to think like a business person, okay? Just as a student, what do you think you'd like a campus bookstore to have? 

If someone is very much interested in helping, please email me! If you've got small ideas, please comment. I promise you awesome posts in the future! I do have a list of posts ready for writing, y'know? ;) Till then, hasta pronto! And "muchas gracias" in advance :P (I'm learning Spanish too, you know that. The teacher gave me an awesome idea of having a blog in Spanish. After once laughing it off, I did think, how awesome would that be? It's just the purrfect way to learn the language! :D )

The Last Message...

**A short story**

July 14, 2013

I spent last night tossing and turning, making Shobha get up twice and bring me some water to deal with my dry throat. And when finally I felt the sun rays sifting through the small square window over my tired face, I got up, dressed for work, hurriedly gulped down breakfast Shobha prepared and left home before any of my sons had woken up. 

The outside looked just like it always did: the familiar smell of old brick and cement coming from age old houses on both sides of the narrow lane. Ours was right in the center of the gali so that it did not matter where you entered from. The distance would be the same. It had rained last night, just like it had been raining the past few nights. The ground had a musty smell about it, and as I carefully stepped over the puddles and muck, dawn gave in to a brighter day. I always believed people gave a lot of importance to everything at face value. It's wrong. If any of the regular folks would see me right now, they would see a 65 year old Badri in his regular white kurta pajama and brown Bata sandals, walking towards the closed down church (now kabootarkhana), to feed the birds and then going towards his shop in Kashmere Gate, working well past retirement. I wonder if they know. I wish they did, but on second thoughts, how does it matter to them? This day is different from the rest and probably for the first time in my life, I feel nervous about going to work. 

I pick up some flowers and agarbatti and reach my shop. I'm in a mixed state of mind when I see I'm not the first one there. I pass a smile at Madia. "I should be surprised to know you feel sentimental about today, but I'm not" I sigh as I add, "It's been a long time". The clerk's eyes displayed the kind of sadness that makes you wish like you never saw it. The kind that sucks out all hope. I did not want to see it. I looked around. Madia had already made the place look clean. A lot cleaner than before, in fact. "Sit down Badri sahib, I'll get tea for you," he said.

I saw the middle aged man disappear from the workroom. Turning to the small mandir, I lighted up the agarbatti and prayed. A little longer today. Lord Krishna's face stared back at me as I reminisced about the past, remembering all these years I sat here, in this office, knowing about lives and families of the people who came to me. I didn't know what my life would be when the day ended, I just knew it would be very different from how it has been in the last 50 years. I had been putting up a brave face all this time, but I always felt too exposed to God when I prayed, like He knew and it did not matter if tears rolled down while praying, because He understood. 

I shuffled across the room and sat down at my old desk. I opened the drawers, unlocked the machine, put my hands together on the worn out table, interlocking my fingers together, looking out the open door towards the morning street activity. I glanced at the round wall clock above my head. 9 a.m. Gautamaditya would be on his way, just like every second Sunday of the month. I breathed out and sat down to wait. 

***

Sept. 27, 1963

"Babaaaa!! Where are you going Baba? It is a Sunday! Won't you be home? Are you going out to eat? Will you please take me along?" Aadi fired these questions in his high pitched eight year old voice, running out barefoot in the verandah of their home. Jagmohan Lal smiled at the dancing boy and said, "Get your chappals and come along." A few minutes later they were walking down the tiny streets shaded with three storey houses in Daryaganj. Walking 4 kilometers with Aadi made him revisit history, for he felt happily obligated to answer the curious kid's curious questions about everything that came their way. It was 9.30 in the morning by the time they reached Somlal's office. They went in through the open door, straight up to the man behind a wooden desk and a machine on top.

"Ah, Jagmohan! Kya sandesa laaye ho?" Somlal started gathering up long thin strips of paper. He looked at Aadi through his wire rimmed glasses as Jagmohan pulled out his folder to take out a piece of paper. Aadi held on to a piece of his Baba's kurta, for he found this place very different, and he could barely contain his questions. Somehow he knew this was Baba's work and so he simply looked at the table and the machine on it. It was rectangular, almost a square, but not quite. Aadi did his maths well. He saw his Baba handing over a paper to the bespectacled man, who started pasting small strips of paper with funny dots and dashes on those long strips. Once done, he carefully inserted those into the machine, which beeped once, twice, thrice as they went in and out. "Do you like it, my first customer of the day?" 

Aadi was brought out of his reverie when he realized the man was looking at him, expecting an answer. "Yes! What happened? What is this?" He was now right next to Somlal, hand hovering over the machine, not sure whether to touch it or not. Somlal gently placed the boy's hand on top of the machine, a little warm from the effort. "This is a telegraph machine. Your Baba just sent a message to your eldest brother in Ranchi, asking him to come home for Diwali." Inspired by Aadi's awestruck expression and glancing towards the door in case he missed any customer, Somlal explained how telegrams were sent. 

***

Sept. 24, 1974

Aadi walked past the Red Fort in a hurry. His heart was thumping loudly, hammering across his chest as he skipped a few paces in the early dawn light. It is too early in the morning, he thought. He stood outside Somlal & Sons. Telegraph Office, the closed shutter making him want to tear up. He paced forward and back on the street, and then sat hunched in front of the office, waiting for someone to show up. 

It was 8.30 a.m. when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Badri, Somlal ji's son in his late twenties was standing there, looking at him worriedly. He got up. "Please Badri, I have to call bhaiya home. Ma is not well and I... she.. she's not well." Aadi handed him a paper with his short and to-the-point message. Badri hurriedly opened the office, made Aadi sit with a cup of tea ordered from the neighbouring dhaba and set to work. He loved the job, but the only thing that kept him from being happy while working was the fact that he would be the first to know bad news. Worse, the one to send the news to people who'd probably tear up just knowing they had a telegram. 

'Come home soon STOP Ma unwell END'

***

Jan 9, 1986

A 31 year old Aadi in an unwashed kurta looked way too enthusiastic than his appearance allowed. But he did not care. Entering the telegraph office, he opened his box of meethai and took out a barfi. "Muh meetha karo Badri! Aaj khushi ka dinn hai" he sang as a delighted Badri filled his mouth with barfi. "What's the good news?" 

"My wife brought a little Laxmi in our home! I have a daughter too now! She gave birth to the baby this morning! I have to send a telegram to bhaiya!"

'God blessed us with a baby girl STOP Come see her STOP We miss you END'

***

Mar 18, 1998

Aadi stood in a queue in Badri's office, the overhead fan not doing much to dry out his sweat. He regretted not going his Baba's way and sending telegrams in the morning. It became crowded at this time. Too many people with too many messages. I wonder how many of these people are sending threats to government officials, how many sending orders. Is there someone like me, waiting to send in a telegram saying I won't be here for a few years? That I'm being transferred and I'll live without my family all these years? I hope not, he thought.

He transcribed his message, sending it across to bhaiya and said a temporary, heart-felt goodbye to Badri. "I'll see you soon, friend. Take care." Badri smiled as he watched Aadi's familiar gait disappear around the corner.

'Transferred to Lucknow for three years STOP Keep checking on family END'

***

June 24, 2004

Walking through the quiet morning streets, Badri felt that familiar feeling of liberation, of being the only survivor in this brutal age when funny (but really not so funny) new developments in the field of technology were keeping people more inside their homes than ever. He did feel sad about a lot of things, his gradually declining number of customers for one. He was pleasantly surprised to see a well dressed Aadi standing outside his unopened office, a big box of sweets in his hand. 

"Good morning Aadi. It's so good to see you! What's the happy occasion?" Badri asked.

Aadi was beaming. "My daughter is a grown up girl now. Uske byah ka sandes bhejna hai. Here, this is an invitation for you" Aadi handed over the box and a card. "Mubarak ho Aadi ji! Half-century ke sath sath beti ka byah!"

'Sudha getting married next month STOP Sent invitation by post STOP Everyone happy END'

***

August 19, 2008

When Badri, in the middle of the process of encoding a message addressed to a government official, looked up and saw Aadi hobbling towards the office in the late monsoon evening, he sensed something was out of place. Aadi was usually the one for morning messages and only came in the afternoons or evenings when it was to send an urgent message. This time however, it didn't seem like he was in any hurry. By the time Badri finished writing and sending the message, Aadi had entered and taken a chair to wait for his turn. He looked absolutely and positively depressed and didn't seem to be in any hurry at all. Badri speedily worked on encoding, decoding messages, the poor machine sputtering as fast as it could. It was getting dark. He walked over to Aadi when the last customer exited, only to shake him and looking at a wrecked man. His face was caked with paths made of dried tears that kept on mixing with fresh ones. 

"It's Sudha," he whispered. "She suffered her third miscarriage. What is she going to do now?" Aadi flopped down on the chair dejectedly. Badri stood with his friend for a long time, just lending him his company. When Aadi got up to leave, he did not stop him. He hated this part of his job. Being the bad-news-breaker. People were scared of Badri's name, for it meant bad news.

'Sad news STOP Sudha miscarried again STOP Your brother Gautamaditya END'

***

July 14, 2013

Madia had brought in tea and for some reason, pakoras for both of us. Like it was supposed to be a party? I bit into the hot stuffed bread-pakora, feeling the heat on my gums, following it with a sip of chai. It was still early morning. Even if it wasn't, it wouldn't have made a difference for I got around 10 customers a day. Gone were the days when Somlal & Sons Telegraph Office was flooded with people of all shapes and sizes, in a hurry to send messages. I had forgotten what it was to be busy, but what would I even do after today? I wouldn't know even this level of busy. It wouldn't be an understatement if I said I was feeling thoroughly angry and equally sad. This wasn't fair, but if I had learned something looking at the thousands of lives I got to know through my messages, it was that life wasn't necessarily fair. And there was little one could do to change it and those who managed to live with that were tagged 'wise men'. 

It was late afternoon when Gautamaditya came in. I tried my usual smile, but all I could manage was a weak imitation. He seemed to understand. There was no paper on him and I wondered if he wished to send a message at all. It was unlike him to come empty handed. "Namaste Badri ji. I just came in to see you. I wondered when I would see you again." He fumbled for words but gave up soon. There was no sense in going circles around the main point. He knew it too, just like I do. Writing telegraphic messages for the past 50 years of my life, I certainly knew what it was to get to the fact of the matter. We were brothers in that same way. Aadi got up and stood over my machine, running his hands over its surface, picking up strips of paper and going through codes. Before I knew it, he started pasting codes on paper, quick and proper. I was shushed down but I was intrigued. Did Aadi know coding? 

After a short while the machine gave a beep. A new kind of a beep, one I rarely heard. An incoming message. Aadi sat down across the desk from me, pulled out enough money for a very long telegraphic message and handed it to me. He then held on to my left hand, just like I did when I delivered news of Sudha's miscarriage. Bewildered, I took out the incoming message. It read:

'I feel sad about telegram vanishing STOP It has been very special and important to me STOP Have shared happiness grief and sadness excitement and news with you and this office STOP You will be missed and I will feel terrible about having to send a message and not coming to you STOP I wanted this message to be the last one STOP Thank you dear friend END'

***

Yes, today marks the last day the telegram survives. 163 years of service and now all thanks to new means of 'faster' and 'effective' communication, it is no more required. I have personally never even seen a telegram. Apologies if there's anything wrong with what I wrote, as far as the technicalities are concerned. I just felt bad about it, not just because I love old stuff, but also because of it's emotional quotient. These things are truly valuable and no technology can make up for it. I guess that's the malady of change.

PS- The telegraph office is actually government owned (BSNL, to be precise), unlike a private office like I made it in the story.

Transition Mode: ON.

I'm not a fan of the phenomenon of change, as you might know if you've been reading what I've been blabbering since I started this blog. I know it's important and all, for all that diversity and learning through change and that cliched, 'change is the only constant' thing, but still. I'm all for gradual change, it's sometimes perfect and magical, like the way I find myself getting mature and err.... a better, calmer person? Something like that. However, I get all anxious and feel like I'm on a completely different plane when the change is sudden. Sometimes it's pleasant, other times it's not. In both cases, I feel uncomfortable, slightly less when it's something good, but the feeling's there nevertheless.

This change thingy seems to have suddenly found my life the most interesting, out of the billions of people on the planet, it seems. Alright, that's hugely exaggerated, but you get the picture, right? One thing after another and right now, it's so different that it's hard to believe I actually had a vacation. No more sleeping in, roaming around in PJs, reading whenever I felt like it, watching random flicks and shifting channels restlessly, no more going out to the park for a walk (aiming to be 'fit'), no more time-on-my-hands for blogging, even! Which is something that sucks the most for me, right now. I mean, I need it so bad! College's started once again and there are so many new things it's hard to handle. Although, so far how I've managed and behaved, I deserve a pat on the back!

1. I'm in second year! Which is like, the final year for us poor souls dragged into this MBA thingy, and now there are around 40 new people! Which is quite a lot, especially for someone like me, who takes a lot of time to adjust and talk easily. But it's okay. I had this new zest for 'being myself' which has been working so far. I have my doubts, as it was the orientation week and everyone was having fun and the real thing starts tomorrow, but still I hope the new me would hold on for longer. I don't want to care what people think about me, I don't want to be too attached or emotional with anyone, rather friendly and open, which by the way, I find really hard in this place. No, I didn't find anyone new too, with whom I could have that comfortable 'connectedness'. I remember writing a post titled, 'Thought Mismatch' in the beginning of my first year, describing how I feel like I don't belong here and it's still there. *sigh* God knows when I'll find my true place. Till then, I need to hold on and focus on:

- What is important to me

- Ensuring all the over practical people don't get to me

- Ensuring I don't become a carpet being walked on, like last year

- Smiling. A lot. It helps. :D (And it makes me look far better than I actually am :P )

2. New campus! Our University is essentially located in Old Delhi and our course was in West Delhi, but not anymore! It's shifted to its mother campus which is a historical building with that old Delhi feeling. The only thing I like about it. Actually, I think I'll enjoy this new campus once the other course kids start pouring in from August. I don't know. I like the ambience, even though it's marred by the presence of dogs-that-chase-you and families of monkeys in banyan trees and on tops of the roofs, so that when you have to reach your classroom you've got to keep praying you don't get attacked. And those guys even have green-apple ice cream from the ice cream vendor in the campus. Every afternoon post lunch. o.O Still, discovering a half buried skeleton (preserved with P.O.P.), a 300 year old library-sans the books- and having Old Delhi right outside the gates is not so bad.

3. Dance moves!! I've never danced. I am too much of a klutz for something as graceful as dance. I look like a pathetic zombie when I attempt dancing and just the mention of dancing even in the classroom, with my classmates, on stupid songs where you just have to move your hands and nod your head, gave me the heebie-jeebies! Will you believe it? I danced yesterday, in front of the whole MBA school, juniors and teachers included. Not solo, obviously, but in a group of 5. I don't know what came over me. It was compulsory for all to perform something and considering I suck even more at singing, I thought I'd stay inconspicuous in a group dance. But well.............. I had a lot of fun! While practicing and more so while performing. Some friends were amazed at the change too! :D Although, it doesn't mean I'm going to be available for this thing every time, okay?

4. Reading! We have Saturdays working too and during the past week, I haven't read a word, which is scary considering the piles of books I've got pending for reviews. I hate not reading. I know it might sound pesky every time I mention it, but what can I do? There's little else I like to do.

5. Ensuring fairness. The biggest reason I don't like MBA is when people believe they can 'succeed' by making their thing the best by bringing others down, which is actually a loser's way of doing things. Sadly, that doesn't matter because this is not the time for honesty. It's a virtue which isn't in use these days. Even then, I think it defines a character and absolutely makes you trustworthy, which I think is very important that people see you as. I don't know if I could live with the fact that people don't trust me! At the same time, you don't have to become someone people take for granted. There's all kind of rubbish business that happens and you've got to learn how to make sure you're not a victim, by being polite. It's really hard to manage, but I'll be doing my best. I'm done with doing all the free work and no one even knows whose hands it passed on from!

6. A new day! :D My brother G, who's outside Delhi for studies, gave us a surprise today by coming home!!! Although, I didn't appreciate being woken up all groggy and full of sleep (and I got up at the sound of mom's incredible laughter) at 8.30 a.m on the only day of the week when I wasn't sleeping for just 4 hours. But it's okay, as later both of us had a deep rest for hours! :P Thank you G, you really made us all super happy. Just that right now, sitting beside me pestering me for the laptop is irritating. But whatever, I missed this too. :P

7. No more GFC!! Dear blog followers, Google reader is shutting down from tomorrow, which means that this 'Follow Me' button on the right, where most of you have signed up, would not be of any use. It's so sad! I mean, I don't want to lose all you guys! Who will even read my blog posts? Please please if you're a blogger, follow me on Bloglovin', which is a platform for following blogs, or put me in your feed reader, or subscribe via email. I'm telling you, I'll bring in a troll to hit you if you don't!

Follow my blog with Bloglovin

Also, for bloggers, Bloglovin has this amazing feature where you can 'import' all the blogs you follow with just a click of a button, and hence you don't lose out on any blog! I'd hugely recommend that. It's a nice platform! Not a very nice change, but we can't help it! 

Different sides of survival...

It's a summer day, incredibly hot and I'm in my t-shirt and pajamas, sitting on the cold marble floor of the drawing room, with my back against the sturdy table, cooling off in front of the cooler, loving the way my hair keeps sweeping over my face (unlike normal people who find it irritating). I have the laptop open in front of me and I'm just wondering what to title my new post on the different kinds of kids (seriously. Next post on that!) when I notice our housemaid outside in the verandah. I don't notice her immediately. I mean, I didn't even realize when she passed me, opened the door and started wringing and hanging out the washed clothes on the clothesline. I look outside because she's speaking loudly. There's an old lady at the gate with whom she's talking loudly, in a tone that suggests she's not interested and willing her to go. A hundred emotions flood through me, because let's face it, I've a soft spot for old ladies.

I read books, so I know better: about people, about different kinds of moods and psychology, about how to behave and whom to trust, how not to judge without knowing anything beforehand. People expect me to know all that. But then sometimes, there's something that breaks all rules. A grand exception and you can't think clearly. It's instantaneous. Just like this emotion of irritation, anger, the urge to get up and scold the maid for being so rude, that came flooding into me just within a second. I looked towards my parents and asked them to go have a look immediately. Mom gets up fast (umm.. we all have a soft spot for old ladies) and I reach the door before her. The maid looks at me angrily, complains to mom in a violent whisper, 'Besti kara dete ho meri'. She was apparently, telling her no one's home and asking her to go away, which was akin to a sin!

That lady was still smiling. Standing close to the gate, clutching the bars, she smiled up at us holding two packets of a summer drink powder and a pack of 4 Vivel soaps. She's been here before. Today she's in a plain yellow cotton saree with an off-white cotton sleeveless blouse. Her brown skin hangs loose among the million or so wrinkles all over her body, her cheeks visibly chubby, though drooping, on both sides. Her hair's in a pure white bun, with a few strands hanging loose. I still don't know her story, though I remember the last time she was here, she said she lives somewhere nearby and as she gets bored sitting at home with nothing to do, she thought she might as well go door to door and sell stuff and bring in some more kamaai. The glaring sun doesn't seem to bother her. When people like us run off inside for shade and comfort, there are some like her who're happily going from door to door, contributing to their family for food.

I opened the gate and Mom sent me off to get a glass of water, while she took what she wanted from the lady (those two juice packs and Vivel soaps!). They chatted for a while as she took out more things asking if we use that oil or a particular handwash. What I liked best was her permanent smile, even as she talked. Mom handed her the money and she told her how she's been here three or four times before but we weren't home. I wonder if it was the maid who sent her away, or if she came on the days when both my parents are working. She took out a couple more things from her small yellow zipped bag, held them in one hand, hung the bag on one shoulder and carefully stepped down and out of the gate towards the opposite house, politely asking us to close the door behind her.

***

About a week ago I was in my small bus to the office. I always sit on the window seat, last row. At one of the red lights, lost in thoughts with headphones plugged in, I saw a sad, peculiar scene. There was this u-turn kind of a road, the ones where there's an enclosure with fences around and a roundish footpath around the whole turn. A man in a torn and dirty shirt and pants, with an indifferent expression stood there with one hand on a metre-long pole, his bare foot repeatedly hitting a year old baby. A woman, no older than in her late twenties sat near his feet, her knees held up, just not very close to her chest. Her hair was dirty, an indistinguishable color, just like her saree which clung to her thin body. Her most striking feature were her eyes. She was staring straight ahead, unblinking, and if you'd have glanced at her, you'd think her expression is blank. But the bus stood there for a while and I could see her black eyes shining. With sadness, helplessness and something that said, "I've given up". The baby in a small set of clothes that were visibly inadequate was bawling as the man kept on moving his foot and hitting him on the side. He tried getting up, made it through a fraction and then sat back again, crying, clutching the woman's leg, who sat just staring straight ahead.

Suddenly she looked up and locked eyes with mine and I felt like a filthy thief, an intruder peeping into something personal. It was devastating. With both these instances, I'm not sure I feel pity as much as I feel sad about everything. Is it the matter of choice? I think not. We don't give money to beggars thinking we're only encouraging their business, but I wonder if they really benefit from it? I'm sure they wouldn't be in this business if they had any choice or a shot at something better. They're poor, deprived and taken advantage of. They don't know what home is, they're not sure when they'll have their next meal. I personally despise this 'Survival of the Fittest' theory. I hate the differences we have in the way we live. Everything should be for everyone. Maybe not that practical, but why should some suffer, just because others have better luck?

I wonder if I've really got the right to complain about anything in my life. I had this thing going on in my mind for a while. Whenever I saw someone with less than what I have, I felt guilty about it. I felt guilty about going to malls and purchasing stuff on impulse, or just because I wanted it. I thought about those who don't have a room with electricity, who wore the same set of clothes everyday. What I had seemed like a waste. I was totally conflicted. I asked dad if we should start spending less, because others didn't have it all? Or whether we should do our bit to help and that's it? Dad said that while how I feel about it is good, it will not be a good choice to leave what is there for you to use, just because millions others aren't lucky enough. It's our luck we have these things, they might not be so lucky. There are millions others who have so much more than you. Do they ever stop living life their way and come down a level in their standard of living, because they see you don't have what they do? No. The point is to enjoy what you're being given, while helping others as much as you can. It's mostly luck.

I guess it's true. These might just be the different ways of survival.

PS- Please some good soul, give me a nice strong kick on my head! I've already delayed working on my summer internship project by a week and I'll be officially branded mental if I don't complete it this weekend. I mean, I have to do it by this weekend. I've got like, two weeks before the dreaded college reopens and I haven't even started getting into the holiday feel. I've got some college work to do, catching up with Spanish, making a papier mache flower vase for someone (any ideas??) and of course, read the million pending books on my TBR. Motivate me!

PPS- This is my blog's 101st post. :D I'm not much of a celebratory person, considering how I skipped to even mention my blog's third birthday, which was in May. But still, 101st post. That's loads of writing. :D Yay with me! ;)

That red monster...

... that no one wants in their life! That invisible beast which makes you a target, claws on your face, leaving scars and clutches your shoulders so tight, you get tears in your eyes. The beast called anger. 

This post isn't really about anything in particular, but an update on my not-so-great-life recently. I know I promised not to vent on this blog, that even got an award for its positivity (thank you Abinaya!), but I suppose it's okay sometimes. I actually have about 15 drafts posts, half written, most of which have been created in the past few days itself. Each day I get new topics to write about, I start writing but then get lost somewhere in between, the result of which is an empty blog filled with serious posts since the past few, well, posts. I still haven't started any Theandric Thursday story, I left a story I actually was writing, in between. I have the idea in mind, I created scenes today while in a boring class, I have those notes right in front of me, but I can't write. I'm supposedly, a new columnist at That's So Gloss (yeah, thanks. Click on the link to check it out), but I've just written one article till now, while I was supposed to have written at least three. I'm so dead. Even for those, I do have drafts! Why can't God just either, take it all away at once, or give me back everything? This "in between" thing is making me irritable, angry and so damn under-confident!

For a change, I actually have some amazing books with me, at home, paperbacks and hardbacks, but they're just lying unread. I haven't been able to read more than 10 pages at a time and I'm wayyy behind in the review books. What if people just stop reading my book blog? Leave that aside, my goodreads challenge widget shows "at your current pace, you're two books behind schedule", which, weird as it may sound, is actually hurtful to even look at. The World Book Fair's on, and I don't even know if I'll be able to attend it. Actually, no. I'm going there on Sunday, what the hell ever happens! I am so feeling like making a visit to Daryaganj for books, but I can't. I so want to read all the Young Adult fiction I have, finish the remaining Dan Brown books before his new book, 'Inferno' is released in May, read books by Khaled Hosseini before his new book is released, but with the pace my sucky life is going on, I can't do that. 

Picture courtesy: Google. 

Sometimes I hate being good. I wouldn't talk in a 'down-to-earth' tone right now. I like being good to people, I like it when they smile because of something I did/said, I absolutely love it when someone benefits because of me and they're grateful for it. But I do not like the way I'm taken for granted, which is a lot. I don't like it when I do something for you, you're so absorbed in it and saying 'Thank you' that you do not see the other stuff I'm talking about, stuff that's important to me. I'd very much like it if you would trust me 100%, and not hide things, stupid things specially, from me. Really, I'm not dumb. And I feel unwanted when you do that. Probably also insecure, and jealous. Save me these horrible feelings and please reciprocate the love I'm giving, alright?

'Self-image' is so hard to maintain, even if you're actually being "you", just because people around are playing with being who they're not. They'd say things they don't mean, they'd speak behind your back just because they're afraid of saying the truth out loud in front of you, they'd do things just so another can fail and I hate it. I hate it when I'm being judged on the basis of what I say. No one would even look at what I'm doing. And even if I'm saying/writing, it wouldn't be taken seriously. Either there's something terribly wrong with me, or I'm the most self-deprecating person ever (which I refuse to believe, because I've always been quite a positive person, ignoring a lot of non-sense. But then, everything always comes with a limit). We're having a General Student Body election, students who're interested in being in the Student Council would fight for the "coveted" seats. Apart from all the unexpected, dirty politics (which I don't even feel like mentioning), I'm just sort of burdened with the idea of just me contesting for the executive post of "Literary Head". I mean, come on! It's just depressing! I want people to be enthusiastic about this post, but it's just a 'small, useless position that's not going to be admirable'. I really, really want a friend who's just like me, who reads just the same books I do and with whom I would easily talk non-stop about the books we read. I'm done with diversity and stuff. Doesn't work for me.  

There could be a hell lot of more things I could write here, but I suppose, I should do my best to just look at the good and ignore the bad. It's going to be tough, but I'm not going to let others make me feel low, not anymore. I'd still be good, because I will not change myself because morons decide to turn devils. I am only hoping that they start caring more about everyone, not just me. It's life, people! Materialism should have a limit, no? I wish I could limit this post's visibility, so that not everyone reads it. I don't think that option is available with blogspot, though. Apologies for the strong post. I hope I soon finish a draft and post it. They're all nice and warm and positive! 

PS- I'm lonely, even with people around. I need friends. Someone who'd focus on what I am saying, instead of being self-absorbed, like everyone is. 

How do you feel?

If you're rooted in a mass

Of beings different, 

Pitying you probably, for you're

Not 'them', sticking out sorely

How would you feel?

If you ever speak and

It goes to the wind

For they have priorities, overlook

Your little voice, meaningless

How would you feel?

If your little heart flutters

At a sound, you turn and

See it/they smiling, at another

Their backs to you, indifferent

How would you feel?

If it's easy being alone

You do it with grace

Doesn't mean it's desired

Still they leave you up to it

How would you feel?

If you find yourself

At the intersection, with the

Forgotten past behind, the unknown future

Ahead, and the present muddled, conflicting

How would you feel?

Be in those shoes, at least once

See, what your indifference does

To drown another soul, in pain

Insecurity, inferiority. If this is you,

How do you feel?

The above picture was taken from Google (where else?).

The above post is the product of a very weird state of mind. Ignore if it doesn't make much sense.

Ticks and crosses...

Every person has their own perception of what constitutes the ‘right thing’. What’s right for you may just be horribly wrong or unforgivable for me. Isn’t it logical? Everyone is a different personality, with their own set of brains (hopefully), thought processes, living environment and background. Naturally, our perceptions, ideals and morals would vary. Even then, from a general humanitarian point of view, there are certain rights and wrongs that I feel we all should know and understand. Whether we choose to do the right things, is entirely up to us. 

#1. Wrong: Cheating in exams is not right. You copy from others, from the guy who's spent some time preparing and studying while you were getting drunk, you use your Android phone and apps for the right answers, you don't care if you're copying shamelessly from whoever. The nerdy classmate whom you never include in your 'fun plans', suddenly becomes the limelight when it comes to copying from him in tests. Not right. 

Personally, I would say it's kind of natural for us (Indians) to cheat. God knows if not the whole freaking population has been involved in some sort of cheating or the other. Still, that doesn't make it right. Have some respect, for yourself and for the others. People cheat because they want marks, they want good grades. Why? Does it in any way make you learn anything? Make you smarter? I don't think so. (Yes, I know that in some cases marks determine a lot of things and can make huge differences. It's just a pathetic truth about our system).

Right: Even if you want to save yourself from flunking, at least cheat till what is required for you to pass. Why copy the whole thing, word for word? You have brains, please make use of them. It's not really that hard.  

Understood?

# 2. Wrong: Hurting others in any way is not right. Some of us have this tendency, this urge for sweet 'revenge'. Not right. You, for one, have absolutely no right to make anyone feel sad about themselves, or inferior, or angry. Why can't you just keep to yourself and to those who matter? Seriously, some people have all the time in the world to discuss and plot such trivial tactics that it makes my heart squirm. It's scary. No one is actually interested in anyone else's life so much. If they are, they're going to talk to you about it. I do. If I like someone, I'd like to get to know a lot of things about them, so I'll simply ask them. Do that, will you? Stop being a snob.

Right: 'Teaching' anyone a lesson is totally uncalled for, kiddish and stupid. If someone hurts you, why the hell do you have to hurt them back? That just makes two people miserable instead of one. Heard of this word, 'ignore'? Works wonders, I tell you. Try not to take too much notice of what cribbers speak about you. You know yourself better than anyone else, even if they're psychologists. Trust yourself and learn to leave people alone! 

# 3. Wrong: Being rude is not right. Really, in my 21 years of life, I haven't encountered as many rude people as I'm doing these days, the past few months, especially. Where people get this attitude of being rude, thinking they're being cool, is something I can't grasp. At all. There are real, freaking people whom you're being rude with. They might be sensitive, they have emotions, they're not robots. When you push someone deliberately while getting on/off the Metro train, it's not cool. Maybe you just screwed up some happy person's day real bad. When you tell someone how 'boring', 'uncool' or 'weird' they are, it's not right. You think people act like a bore on their own? They're trying really hard, alright? Just have a little bit of sense.

Right: Just be nice. To all. That's all I have to say.

***

Agree with me or not? Did you notice how I've written such a short post? :| The scarier thing is, I find it hard to write like I used to, these days. The worst part is, I haven't read a book in the past week. I don't even feel like it, in fact. I mean, I'm considering returning three books to the library without reading them. And I was dying to read them some time back. I just hope it's a reading slump or a writing slump or whatever harmless thing. 

Anyway, I hope to be back soon. Holidays are almost here! There are some interesting prompts floating around the blogosphere I hope to participate in, and Abinaya will kill me really soon if I don't make a post for the two awards she very kindly gave me! :P Hope you're having more fun than me ;)