A Diseased Society

This article was written last year on December 1 to commemorate World AIDS Day. It is in need of a lot of editing and is probably tedious and boring but I hope someone is able to actually read all of it and give me feedback as well...

It’s that time of the year again, a time when the issue of HIV- AIDS is brought into in order to debate the possible remedies that can be undertaken to curb this crisis. World AIDS Day, observed December 1 each year, is dedicated to raising awareness of the AIDS pandemic caused by the spread of HIV infection. Governments, International Organisations and charities all over the world work towards increasing AIDS awareness with renewed fervour on this day. They set goals in advance to reduce the incidence of infection as well as to increase awareness, and create themes for each year. From its inception in 2004, UNAIDS has spearheaded the World AIDS Day campaign choosing annual themes in consultation with other global health organisations. In 2005 this responsibility was turned over to World AIDS Campaign (WAC), who chose Stop AIDS: Keep the Promise as the main theme for World AIDS Day observances through 2010. The theme this year is ‘Stop AIDS. Keep the promise – Leadership’. Considering that 95% of people infected with HIV live in developing countries of which India has the second largest population living with the disease, we must be thankful that at least one day out of 365 has been dedicated towards spreading awareness about the disease. Woefully, the average Indian remains completely ignorant of the disease most of the time until it’s brought to his/her attention - for a brief period may I add- by a celebrity working for a global AIDS awareness organisation or when World AIDS Day is observed. In some cases people are made aware of the disease when someone they know contracts HIV. For the rest of the year people feel that AIDS is a disease that affects only those people who live on the fringes of society, those ‘other’ people who are condemned because they do things that haven’t received social sanction. Social responses to people with AIDS have been overwhelmingly negative in the few studies that have been conducted in India. For example, 36 per cent of respondents in one study felt it would be better if infected individuals killed themselves; the same percentage believed that infected people deserved their fate (Ambati, Ambati & Rao, 1997). Furthermore, in this same study, 34 percent of respondents said they would not associate with people with AIDS, while about one-fifth stated that AIDS was a punishment from God. A hostility index developed in this study revealed that almost 90 per cent of respondents harboured at least one hostile view, and more than half held three or more such views.

Such reactions make it impossible for a person with the disease to even attempt testing themselves for it, leave alone making their condition known to the people around them. This hostility limits the effectiveness of AIDS related awareness programs in India and can be attributed to the general levels of knowledge about HIV and AIDS and in particular to the causes of AIDS and the routes of HIV transmission. Most people are aware of how serious the illness is. They are also aware that as of now, there is no cure. What they do not know is that it isn’t easily transmitted, that with the right medication, people can live out their natural lifespan with HIV and die of natural causes. HIV isn’t the death sentence it was 10 to 15 years ago. The possibility of finding a cure is imminent. There is no need to fear it to the extent of neglecting, rejecting and denying the existence of people with HIV. Nevertheless, it is a disease to be extremely wary of, a disease that commands constant vigilance. It’s a single act of imprudence that alters your life forever.

Owing to the extra baggage that comes with being HIV positive- that of why, how and when-, coping with the disease is emotionally very difficult. People with HIV have to face discrimination from quarters they never expected to turn against them. Studies have documented HIV/AIDS- related Discrimination, Stigmatization and Denial in contexts such as the family, the community, the health care system, and the workplace. Discriminatory restrictions have also been reported in relation to travel, migration, insurance and health benefits. Family responses to infected relatives are heavily influenced by the community perception of the disease. The family may fear social isolation and hence may insist on concealing the diagnosis thus straining relationships within the family as well affecting the overall analysis of the extent of the epidemic. People with HIV are incorrectly perceived to be a source of infection to others by just being in their presence. Such myths are fuelled by misconceptions regarding the transmission of the virus. Many people believe that mosquito bites, sharing toilet seats and swimming pools with people with HIV would endanger them as well. These beliefs are completely misconstrued and should not be encouraged.

The internet is replete with websites offering every sort of information about HIV and AIDS, from the initial symptoms, to the means of contracting the illness to counselling for people infected with the virus as well as advice columns that answer every bizarre, outlandish and farfetched anxiety of people who are afraid that they have HIV. In India, government hospitals in every state provide free counselling and guidance for people who fear they have contracted the infection or people who are trying to cope with it, under the guidance of the National AIDS Control Organisation.

And yet HIV/AIDS remains a very real threat to the survival of the human species, if global warming, nuclear warfare and terrorism don’t kill us first. The speed with which it is spreading is of growing concern to governments all around the World. In India alone, the incidence of HIV infections is projected to be around 20- 25 million by 2010 (UNAIDS, 2002). India has the second largest population of individuals with HIV/AIDS although it lags behind Sub-Saharan countries quite substantially in this regard. What could possibly be the reason behind such an epidemic? In my opinion, this epidemic has been primarily caused by the inability of the average Indian to talk about taboo topics such as sex, infidelity and drug abuse. Even sex workers find it difficult to talk to each other about sex and HIV. They find it easier to talk to an outsider as they feel that foreigners aren’t restricted by the same social mores and rules (Interview with Raney Aronson, Frontline, June 2004). Such denial discourages people from getting tested thus endangering all the people they get involved with at later dates, from talking about their infection and from leading normal lives if they are indeed infected.
It appears that HIV is an infection that exposes the hypocrisy of society. The HIV epidemic in India has brought out several issues in Indian society that have always been known to have existed but have never been acknowledged. One such issue is that of the sale of young girls into prostitution. What sort of desperation and poverty would force a father to sell his daughter into prostitution? If we are to combat this epidemic we have to acknowledge several negative aspects of our society that though unpleasant, exist nonetheless. Once we overcome this barrier we may be able to contain the spread of this deadly disease that robs a person of their dignity and peace of mind while forcing them to face the reality of their existence, that they have lived in ignorance of, for all their ‘healthy’ life, – that of their inevitable death, from AIDS or otherwise. In actuality, HIV isn't really a death sentence, it's just a way to make a shorter period of your life count for more.

by Shivani Bail

The Indian dream

It’s every teenager’s dream to board a gleaming plane to study in a land far away where students from all over the world come to study. The United Kingdom, The United States of America or Australia are the study destinations most students prefer. Developed countries hold a lot of allure for students from the third world. They represent a standard of living and an obscene level of affluence that the youth of all third world countries aspire for and hope to bring to their own homeland. Despite this prevailing trend, we find that a large population of students choose to come to India for further studies. You heard me right! India, with its corrupt officials, spit streaked streets and steady supply of impoverished villagers crowding city streets, who resort to begging in their desperation to survive, is the desired destination for students from Mauritius, Srilanka, Iran, Iraq, Bangladesh, Bhutan, Nepal, Afghanistan and several African nations apart from others. But why India? “We have heard that it’s a good country to study Law, Medicine and Business Studies in, besides, I have two elder sisters and both of them have studied in India. They are doing very well back home,” says Stephen Kimundi of Kenya who has spent several years in Pune and has enjoyed his stay here considerably. Wahid Hamidy of Afghanistan came to India on an ICCR scholarship and plans on finishing his MBA and returning to his country to help rebuild it. Says Kazi Asaduzzaman of Bangladesh, “I came to India because there is a lot of student politics in my country. Here there’s a lot more freedom.”

As I discovered on the unique occasion of International Student’s Day celebrated by Symbiosis University on July 31, Pune city plays host to a multitude of cultures of people from all over the world. Dr S B Majumdar, the president of the University, decided to put aside one day of the year to celebrate this diversity and to give students, far away from their home, a chance to feel welcomed and taken care of. Says Hamidy, “Dr Majumdar sees everyone as equal irrespective of race, class or caste. In fact the name of his institution itself signifies this mindset of his. In a society we have to respect each other since we are a part of each other.” Mr Hamidy, has resided in Pune for several years now and was awarded the Most Outstanding International Student award for this year. Apart from Symbiosis, several colleges in the city attract international students. It isn’t for nothing that Pune is called the Oxford of the east.

However, does Pune live up to its reputation? Is it hospitable to students? Says Kimundi “I love Pune. I have visited Mumbai too but I didn’t like it as its pollution, crowds and traffic were too much for me to handle.” Although Pune may be marginally better than Mumbai when it comes to traffic or pollution, do the citizens of Pune treat foreign students like outsiders or do they exhibit an attitude of atithi devo bhava to their foreign friends?

Carrying the hopes and dreams of their countries, most of the time these bright students tackle more than just their studies when they land in India. It’s a struggle to get the smallest of things done. Getting themselves registered at the police station, finding a decent place to stay or even catching an auto becomes an ordeal since they look different and talk differently. People try to cheat them at every step. Unfortunately racism isn’t just a phenomenon in the west. Our obsession with fair skin (as made evident with just a perfunctory glance at the matrimonial column in our local paper) has made us adopt a superior attitude, (akin to that of the British towards us) towards people from African nations who as a race are darker than us. “We do find that Indians favour fair skinned people. Sometimes people stare at us but we have learnt to ignore people who taunt us and talk negatively. Every society has its pros and cons. The positive aspect of India is that we also have many friends from all over the city, who are willing to help us out,” says Kimundi. While students from Africa face a problem of looking different, students from Bangladesh and the Middle East are discriminated against because they talk differently. “Language is a problem for us in the beginning. Even our pronunciations mark us out as foreigners. The more time we spend here however, the less trouble we get into,” says Asaduzzaman. Hamidy has given some thought to this issue. He says, “Most often, people who are ignorant about who we are and where we have come from, treat us differently. Rickshaw drivers, policemen and landlords try to cheat us but our classmates and professors treat us very well.” These seem to be problems every student faces when they go to a new place. In fact, Pune seems to be quite in tune with the culture and needs of an international student community. Is the rest of India the same way?

Pune is a city that accepts the cultural differences of an international student community, hence it can be said that it consists of a tolerant society. However, our tolerance is always under threat. If a person finds a headscarf offensive today, they might find jeans offensive tomorrow. The narrow line between discipline and dictatorship is often trespassed in the name of morality. As global citizens we mustn’t try to enforce our views on people. We must understand, empathise and refrain from making a judgment for as along as possible.

We live in a globalised world. Boundaries are becoming meaningless. Warfare can take any form and often economic sanctions prove to be more fatal than a war with tanks and missiles. In such a situation it is important for us to be sensitive to and aware of the differences we share with people all over the world. Although racism in our country stems more from ignorance than from malice or hatred towards a particular race, as a society, ignorance can’t be our excuse anymore.

by Shivani Bail

My Bro

When I was just three years old, God saddled me with a burden so heavy, that at twenty-two, I’m still trying to cope with it. ‘It’ refers to my younger brother who has challenged me ever since he learnt how to say ‘no’. When he was little, he was an angel. He used to get me glasses of water from the kitchen, eat the smaller piece of chocolate that I gave him and listen to all my advice. He was so gullible that I used to make up stories about the trials and tribulations of the renegade, Robit Hul and his accomplice, Draculan and he used to get very impressed since, in all the six years of his existence he had not come across stories about Robin Hood and Dracula. He was an extremely adorable looking kid with long lashed eyes and a heart shaped face. A heartbreaker at the age of three, he drove young girls and aunties crazy with his baby talk. And how the baby could talk! He knew how to draw attention. Once some friends of my parents came over and they were talking about going out for the evening. One of them politely asked me what I was going to wear and before I could reply my brother said ‘barbie’s clothes’. Considering that I have always been diminutive and underweight, everyone found his joke unbelievably cute, much to my annoyance.

My brother first learnt how to say no to me when he was around eight and I was eleven. If you ask me, it was too early. I can just imagine how his tiny monkey brain must have evolved into a human one and realised that I was probably violating his right to equal pepsi, equal cake, equal TV watching time and equal space on the bike ride with my mom back from school. By the time I had realised this change it was too late to go back. I was stuck with a monster who constantly fought with me for space and for attention from my parents. Being the elder child I would always try to protect my parents and I always felt that he was too selfish to understand them and that he had too many demands. How I used to lecture him and try to make him ‘good’.

Before I realised it, time went by and both of us grew up. Our troubles stopped revolving around each other. We started understanding and facing adult problems of crumbling relationships, mortality and money. Although we found different ways to cope with our struggles they only seemed to bring us closer. Now that I live far away from him, I still feel like calling him whenever I feel low and with the same wit that he had when he was three, he makes me laugh and forget my sadness. It is as though we finally figured out that after our parents, we had only each other, to relive our memories of the glorious years we spent as carefree children in the Garden of Eden that was our home.

by Shivani Bail

Remebering Ingmar Bergman - An Interview with Gunnar Bergdahl

Palador Pictures and The Embassy of Sweden are paying a tribute to one of the greatest stalwarts of world cinema, Ingmar Bergman on the occasion of his first death anniversary through a film festival titled ‘Remembering Bergman – A Retrospective’. The festival, which is to be screened in Pune from September 5 to 11, will feature some of Bergman’s most iconic and poignant work such as Through a Glass Darkly, Wild Strawberries, Music in Darkness, Summer Interlude and Devil’s Eye amongst others.
An artist of cinema, Bergman is often considered to have pioneered the recognition of film as a medium that exposed the complexities of the human condition as eloquently and sensitively as perhaps literature and theatre succeeded in doing. In an attempt to understand more about Bergman’s creative genius, we interviewed his close friend and colleague Gunnar Bergdahl who was invited by Palador to conduct a workshop for film students and filmmakers in Mumbai this week.

“We had a nice friendship based on our common interests in film. We first conversed over the phone around fifteen years ago. When I was at a crossroad in my career I asked him for advice. He told me to become a director but I became a magazine editor instead. Maybe I should have become a director,” laughs Bergdahl, adding, “He was always very generous with his time and advice. I do believe he liked me,” while reminiscing his time spent with the cinema great.

Bergman inspired countless directors from the likes of Krzysztof Kieślowski and Andrei Tarkovsky to even the more commercial Steven Spielberg and Wes Craven. Undoubtedly his complex screenplays, coupled with his intense frames laden with symbolism made him a favourite amongst serious filmmakers but what was that particular trait that made him the powerhouse of creativity he was? Bergdahl replied almost imediately, “His curiosity and his childlike innocence are what made him great. He looked at the world through the eyes of a younger, child Bergman. Once when I asked him why he was watching so many films and wasn’t he was getting tired, he told me, film is an expanding universe, the more you look the more you find. This is the kind of curiosity that set him apart. His genius is evident in his films. Although they are a bit old fashioned in their appearance, the themes they convey are universal like those of faith, death and human suffering.”

When asked what his favourite work of Bergman was, Bergdahl says “If I had to choose from all his films I would say that Persona was his best work. It was a personal story that was outspoken and memorable with a clear point.” Finally we asked Bergdahl what he thought of the Indian film industry. “I don’t think I am in the position to comment on this subject as I have seen only a few Indian films. I have watched the Apu Trilogy and films by Adur Gopalakrishnan amongst others. However I will say this, Sweden is a small country of nine million and India is a country of nine hundred million. If we produced one Ingmar Bergman, you should be able to produce a hundred,” was his surprising reply. A sentiment we undoubtedly share.
by Shivani Bail
Pic Courtesy Palador Pictures - A still from Through a Glass Darkly. The first movie of what is considered to be Bergman's 'faith' trilogy.

Soul Talk - Shreya Ghoshal

Eight years of growing popularity in the music industry of Bollywood have not changed this diva, who remains every bit as congenial and warm as her soulful voice leads us to believe she is. Shreya Ghoshal is a delight to talk to and her voice is as sweet in person, as it is when played in a cinema hall to thousands of her fans. With her singles from Singh Is King and Bachna Ae Haseeno topping charts and her upcoming releases from God Tussi Great Ho being eagerly anticipated, we caught up with the talented artiste to talk to her about her latest hit songs, about being stereotyped and about being compared to Sunidhi Chauhan.

“For the last few films I have worked on, I have been paired with artistes I haven’t worked with in the past. For Singh is King, I have sung a subtle, romantic song with a slight Punjabi folk flavour along with Rahat Fateh Ali khan and I have sung a song with Mohit Chauhan in Kismat Konnection,” says Shreya who enjoys the experience of trying out new avenues to reinvent herself. Her versatility reveals itself through her work. She has sung songs for two animated films (Ghatothkach and Dashavatar) and is as big a sensation in the Tamil film industry as she is in the Hindi industry. She renders songs in languages unknown to her with just as much soul and emotion as she does in her other songs. However, often audiences feel that her soothing and sweet voice would not suit a fast paced, racy song. Has she become stereotyped? Smiling to hear her voice be described in this way, Shreya says, “I like the fact that audiences find my voice soothing. Personally speaking, I love singing soulful songs so I don’t mind being stereotyped. However, I think people often get confused between the tempo and texture of a song. Yeh Ishq Hai from Jab We Met and the recently released Aahista Aahista from Bachna Ae haseeno are both fast paced songs that I have sung.” A valiant defence, undoubtedly, but it still does not answer the question why songs like Beedi Jalaile have greater mass appeal? Are raunchy and overtly sexual songs sung with a raw voice more popular? “I don’t think that songs that are harshly sung are necessarily sensual. They do have mass appeal. However, there is an audience for every kind of music. It’s a different rasa of sorts,” says the frank, mellifluous crooner who has quite a substantial fan following of her own.

Does Shreya feel that the evolving character of heroines who are increasingly being portrayed as sexually and physically confident women has led to an evolution in the kind of voices being chosen for songs in films? Are deeper contraltos being preferred to coy sopranos? “It’s true that the character of the heroine in Indian cinema is evolving. However, we don’t have character specific or actor specific voices anymore. Music is being used to create an ambience or convey the predominant emotion in the movie. As we saw in Tare Zameen Par, Shankar Mahadevan’s voice was used to convey the character’s emotion in the song Ma instead of a child’s voice,” is Shreya’s response.

Although its true that voices aren’t character specific anymore, does Sunidhi Chauhan have an upper hand over Shreya when it comes to the evolution of the role of heroines in movies? The two music stars reign supreme in Bollywood at the moment. Both command loyal fan bases that often compare the two and argue over the Internet over who is better. Shreya is very amused over the thought of her fans defending her on the Internet. She sportingly replies, “ I am very happy that I have such loyal fans. About being compared with Sunidhi, I love the challenge of trying to win over fans loyal to her. This is the sort of healthy competition that keeps me going.”

As a parting shot, we asked Shreya a question that amused her quite a bit. After Himesh Reshamiya’s transformation and debut in films would she consider taking up acting any time in the future? “I don’t think so. I have been asked a couple of times by some well known directors but I declined their offer. It’s difficult to take a decision about such a thing. I can’t set aside a whole month of my schedule like a composer might be able to,” says the star who sounded a bit unsure about her decision. With her elegant looks and sweet voice we are sure her fans can’t wait to see her in a movie soon.

by Shivani Bail

The rise of the Anti- Hero

I recently started interning at a newspaper. Just thought I would post select articles on my pathetically denuded blog. I am carefully choosing which articles I publish online since I want people to get the impression that I am suave and intellectual. Even if I fail in my endeavour, I hope I succeed in entertaining some of you at least.

Comic book geeks must certainly be delighted. Hollywood has taken to the genre with such enthusiasm that they even put Pritam’s untiring efforts to plagiarise music to shame. This year has already seen the release of Iron Man, The Incredible Hulk and The Dark Knight with three other films slated for release in the months to come. It would be redundant to say that big studios have realised the veritable goldmine these movies are. However, we increasingly find superheroes becoming more human. Their characters go through moral dilemmas and have shades of grey. While some seem to be vigilantes with their own propaganda, others question their own right to uphold order in society. So why are superheroes in this new form, so phenomenally appealing to society?
When Superman first appeared on screen in the 1930s, he reflected the hopes and needs of society at that time. During the Second World War, people needed to feel that an invincible caped crusader, who was capable of stopping any enemy, was on their side. He was a symbol of patriotism and pure spirited heroism in a world betrayed by the vices of men.
Now however, we need our superheroes to have something more than just extraordinary abilities. “We find that characters are proving to be in close touch with the Zeitgeist, tapping into an overwhelming feeling of global self-doubt best exemplified by Tobey Maguire's take on Peter Parker,” says Finlo Rohrer of BBC News Magazine in his article titled, whatever happened to the superheroes of old. Even Batman, as interpreted by Christopher Nolan, is a superhero who doubts his role in society. In the dark night he constantly reiterates the need for Harvey Dent to become the real hero of the city, going as far as to sacrifice his reputation as Batman to save that of Dent’s.
The rise of this new hero is best illustrated by the popularity of Alan Moore’s dark graphic novel V for Vendetta that was released in 2005 and talks about a vigilante who fights against a totalitarian government in a post apocalyptic world in the future. Terrorism, homosexuality, religious freedom and the right to freedom of expression all find a mention in the movie and V, the protagonist of the film is a deconstructed form of the conventional superhero archetype. Watchmen, another book authored by Alan Moore, has been made into a movie and is slated for release this year. The protagonist of the novel is a character named Rorschach who is portrayed to be the pinnacle of moral absolutism. Says Wikipedia about him “He often treats radically different types of criminals in similar ways (for example, he executes both a serial rapist and a common mugger)”.
Apart from Moore’s comics, other comic book heroes are also revealing their human side. Termed as anti- heroes, they show human emotions of selfishness, anger and ignorance. We often find them bending or breaking the law, believing that the end will justify the means. They cuss and swear and sometimes reveal their helplessness in a world that is beyond their control. Wolverine of X-men, The Hulk and now even Batman from The Dark Knight are examples of this. Even super villains aren’t portrayed as being absolute evil anymore. They are often portrayed as being victims of circumstance who the audience can relate to. Magneto from X-men, Two face and Mr Freeze from Batman and The Green Goblin from Spiderman are all examples of anti- hero villains.
The face of danger has changed. The duality of human existence has come to the fore. On one hand we have the power to create and on the other, we can destroy everything. We have become our own greatest enemy. Thus, the movies we watch and the books we read all reflect this duality.

by Shivani Bail

I sometimes wonder if the male and female of the human species were ever meant to be together. On one hand, men keep wondering why women are so complex and on the other hand, women keep wondering why men are so simple. It’s a paradox that only gets resolved in bollywood flicks… apparently. Boy sees girl, girl sees boy and they know they are made for each other. It helps that they’re both gym toned and look like Gods, I suppose. I don’t want their love story anyway, it’s too much about falling in love with an image and nothing about the realities. But what about the love story of all us ugly normal people? The ones who eat ice cream on a date and snort it out accidentally while laughing, the ones who give men flowers and cards and cry the whole night when they feel they’ve offended them? What about losers like us? I guess there’s always the old refrain of parents know best. I have never liked playing roles anyway so the good daughter role doesn’t fit me. Besides, my mother clearly told me that she has ‘better things to do’. Which is one of the trillion reasons why shes the perfect mother but that’s another story.
Well, considering that I had to find love, I started out as soon as I got rid of my braces, for obvious reasons. After my first relationship I realised that I was more in love with being in love than I was with the actual person. I never felt love in the traditional sense, it was always in the hopeless sense. I’ve always fallen in love with the retreating back of an ex- boyfriend. Reatreating since I didn't know how to tell him that I wanted him to show me that he loved me, more often. I have also fallen in love with a man who I knew I would never have a future with. I willingly fooled myself into believing that ‘in the future’ we would succeed in keeping in touch long distance and our relationship would continue because he ‘couldn’t help’ being in love with me. How naïve is that? Pathetically naïve.
Thats all in the past now. I look back on all my impulsive, foolish behaviour and wonder if some of the men were even worth it. Probably not. I don't regret anything. Atleast I don't regret being hurt. But I do regret hurting people.
Anyway, at present I am with an amazing guy who makes me forget everyone else. He's the right blend of masculinity, sensitivity, intelligence, responsiblity and arrogance which I find very attractive and he cares about me too. I couldn't be happier right now and I am at peace with the world. For the first time I feel secure and satisfied. It's weird and unusual for me because at one level, I had grown to enjoy the pain of being rejected. I suppose I had martyr's syndrome. Needless to say, I don't have it anymore. I'm on the path to being normal and I suppose this is as good a time as any to put away my butcher's knife.
Life sure is beautiful. It never fails to get you back on top when you're quite sure that you're stuck at the bottom. It brings you down time and time again, but then, thats what makes the happy parts worth the wait...right?

After my sabbatical

Its been awhile since I was inspired enough to make an entry... I've been busy. My new course keeps me busy. I love it inspite of the fact that most of the people in it get a kick out of dissecting each others negative qualities and feeling good about themselves. Its a seriously BORING passtime. I never knew I was living amongst such absolute hypocrites. This doesn't make me an angel. I'm so confused about the person I am that I'm sure that I'm everything bad and maybe something good. All the same, one thing I know for sure is that the petty day to day insecurities and goof ups of every tom, dick and harry do not thrill me.I get bored... I get bored a lot these days. Getting very emotionally numb too. Thats what scares me the most. I've become so cynical that the most horrific stories of injustice and intolerance just leave me feeling hurt at a superficial level. I used to get touched and be able to empathise but all thats gone. Hmm...
A friend recently asked me how come my blog was so depressing. I hadn't realised how boring it was until he pointed it out. I guess its because I'm not going through a very cheerful phase at the moment. I hope that my humour returns soon. I really miss it.
I'm glad I'm back in my confessional blog groove. I find it really therapeutic. I somehow find it very hard to talk to people.... Wonder why? Maybe because most of the time people don't want to listen. They just want to talk about themselves... Or maybe its because I'm screwed up in the head.

Arbit muck...

The disturbance of all that's secure, that's familiar.
That's what we are always fighting against.
We fight against change...yet it always finds a way of creeping back into our lives.
Still, when everything is in place, is perfectly in order, life dulls.
We find some way to bring everything crashing down.
Broken shards of memories long forgotten,
dragged out only to be smashed if only just to make some noise.
Dull shards, once alive, reflecting all the dancing lights of life, loose brilliance.

One lesson I learnt early in life was that it wasn't possible to envy or grudge anyone their lives. Theres always some part of it that's rotten and corroded. There's always some part of their personality that's rotten as well. I don't claim to be perfect that I'm passing judgement on the rest of humanity. Infact, I'm so far from perfect it gives me sleepless nights. Not that I'm complaining. I know that all that I am, I am because I made myself that way. Nobody's responsible, nobody's to blame. Makes things worse actually... I don't mind. I don't believe in feeling good by disillusioning myself. I'm not miserable either. Just aware of my limitations I guess. After all, man's biggest weakness is his self pity. Thinking about all the things that could have been his/hers, that was rightfully his/hers, that was taken away from him/her, eventually destroys him...

The reason I'm talking about all this is because off late, a lot of very big changes have taken place in my life and I feel dazed and confused. I tried to fill the gap with love but nothing worked out. All the better for me actually. I'm not in the right frame of mind to make anything work. I have inspired love but that is beginning to tire both the person in question and me. How does one tell someone that no matter how much they change themselves, they will not inspire love in the person they love. I used to treasure that naive belief for quite a while. It is so difficult to be rejected. I subconsciously couldn't believe I wasn't 'right' for the person I cared about. All I had to do was to be patient, to stay in their thoughts, to wait, to be eternally understanding. Or so I thought... Eventually, slowly, painfully I realised...I wasn't loved. Way to burst a very cherished bubble! I have learnt that care without occasion can get to be very annoying for the person on the receiving end. I know from personal experience that it becomes very frustrating and embaressing to explain time and again, that the sentiment isn't returned until a point when one just gives up altogether...

Someone read my palm once and told me I was fickle and that I would ditch my country and go make pot loads of money abroad. Saying that to a capitalist is cool, but to me it was a very big insult. Especially since I'm gearing up to practically live in poverty for the rest of my life (I want to work in an ngo. I'm not going to be poor but you can understand how I don't expect to make any money don't you?). I've started by working on my adipose tissue. All I do at the moment is stay at home, eat and sleep. It's sort of my hibernation period. Soon I'll be a raging grizzly bear, wiping out all the obstacles in my path with one swipe of my paw. Or so I hope...

Anyway, thats about all I feel like writing about today. This blog hasn't been created to display my literary prowess. It's more like a journal. I hope my friends will read it when I leave this city so they always know 'what's up' in my life... :o) I'm not justifying the lack of blockbuster content...well...actually I am :oP...damn! What other people think does matter :o(

In the morning

Cold winter morning.
Sky ash grey covers all.
Smokey breath, still solitude
finding fulfillment in loneliness.
Sun cloaked in grey stillness,
sleeps peacefully, breathes easy.
A day to be late,
a day to bury in.
All problems forgotten.
Happiness deep, envelops all
memories and present moment.
Dance, run and laugh
drink in this wonderful air
full of love, promise and dreams eternal.
Grey music, comforting grey,
familiar grey, lonely grey
and yet... grey delight!
I am yours, grey morning
just as you are mine.

Metaphysical mess that I'm trying to figure out...

This city is home no more. There isn't a single thing in this city that is disappointing. Yet I am restless... What am i doing here? I don't belong. The more I stay here the more the wildness within me dies. As I grow older I begin to bury the truth under layers of cynicism and supposed wisdom. The fire within me is fading. Passion replaced by pragmatism. Is life to be lived within the secure confines of ignorance, surviving from day to day, afraid of change, under the disillusion that true satisfaction can be bought, ignoring one's conscience in the false belief that problems sort themselves out. Is life to be lived in surviving? Does living mean satisfying all our senses? Or does it mean debating and understanding the pertinence of existence. I am not satisfied by consumerism. Nothing the market has to offer tempts me. I am selfish. I need to be...and yet, so is everybody else. Is survival the sole basis of existence. Why this life? Why these problems? Why this suffering to those so innocent? What are they being punished for? Is there any justice? Why death, to so many who haven't begun living? Is learning important? Shouldn't I be given a chance to learn from my own death? Do I even matter?... This world is home no more... yet I am determined to try... to try living my way. Is that whats important?

Of catnaps and catnip.

I have a very entertaining cat. His intelligence takes us by surprise sometimes. For instance we have seen him flush the toilet on three separate occasions. All that remains to be done is to teach him to piss in it first. He walks about the house confident in the assumption that he rules it and that it's his territory. This inspite of the fact that he shares it with a very big, very jealous dog and a hysterical female cat. I'm going to stop here to describe my female cat (all you dog lovers may notice I'm not taking time out to describe my dog. Thats because this post is devoted exclusively to my cats). She's naturally sterile and hence naturally very crabby(my dog's been operated and she's also very crabby. I am not, in case you're wondering, referring to the formiddable, retired, sultry vixens of our species). Although she's sterile she gets plenty of action about once in two months (she's got it made huh! All the fun and none of the responsibility). At this point she becomes possessed by her inner demons. Primary amongst these being her indignation at having to share space with a drooling, disgusting beast. She gets very exhausted from all her late night orgies, where I'm quite sure she does catnip, and returns in a very bad mood(catnip hangover). This bad mood she promptly takes out on our poor resident disgusting beast, which if you haven't guessed refers to my dog. She makes my dog cower in a corner with just a reproachful glance. If she passes her in a narrow corridor she arches her back and lets out a long-drawn meaningful meow, as if to say, if you as much as breathe on me you're dead fish.
On one rare occasion she decided to take matters into her own hands and let the DB know who's boss. My brother was on the phone, my mom was in the kitchen and I was on the computer. We suddenly heard that meaningful meow I was talking about earlier, followed by a series of cat shrieks and dog growls. We rushed outside to find both of them locked in combat. Although the cat is smaller we were wondering who we should rescue first because the dog seemed to be losing. I finally pulled my cat, kicking and screaming, away from my dog. We checked both our pets to see what damage had been done only to find that my cat was unharmed while my poor dog had a scratch near her eye. According to eyewitness accounts, my dog was napping peacefully under a chair when my hysterical cat leapt on her. Hence i described her as being hysterical. She's is intolerant of any other animal other than her numerous lovers and that too only once in two months. As a pet she's adorable. She jumps up onto our lap, looks into our eyes and purrs loudly. She is also very gentle with us. I haven't been scratched by her intentionally even once, which if you know cats is a very big achievement and knowing me is an even bigger one since I love to annoy my pets. All you PFA members reading this, by annoy I don't mean that I drop hot objects on them.
In contrast to my female feline my male one strongly resembles my dog in all aspects but one. He doesn't like to snack on crap the way my dog does. Which embarrassingly she loves to do. We have tried stopping her in every way possible but when we aren't looking she sneaks out of the house, runs out onto the road and well... lets just say she doesn't feel too hungry for dinner.
My macho cat is so distinct from his feline flat mate in the most basic of ways. First off, he throws his legs out when he walks unlike our delicate female who always crosses her legs when she walks. He eats anything we put in his dish and has a very sunny disposition. The only time he's lost his temper has been when I tried to take his dish away from him while he was eating. His hobbies include pushing things off shelves (especially if they make a crashing noise on landing), playing with water and tormenting our female feline. Unlike all the other cats I've had, this one loves water. He spends inordinately long hours in the loo running around and dipping his paws in buckets filled with water. He also loves performing complicated maneuvers in order to reach and irritate our FF. This is very easily accomplished since if he lays a single claw on her she screams bloody murder. Unfortunately this just motivates him to bug her more. Thus our house is in perpetual chaos. People on the road think we torture our pets... His torment of our FF continues till she runs outside. He doesn't follow her because he is only 6 months old and still very scared of venturing outside, despite his brave exterior. All in all he's the only man in my life without whom life wouldn't be worth living. He even gives me gifts now and then, so what if they are predominantly of the dead rodent kind.
To all those people who thought that all cats are alike I hope this post has cleared your doubts...

Haiku

Wisps of clouds brush by the moon
blue moon
blood red moon
Water sparkles unceasing
treasure revealed
yet unseen.
Glorious mud rich with scent
the scent of life and that of death.

Love unrequited

I've been in a melancholy mood for a while now. Please bear with all my blue posts. This will be the last one. I determine to write brighter stuff henceforth. The inspiration for this poem came to me in a flash. No idea why...

These feelings that I give unto you
were not begot in a day or two.
The first was when we met as friends
Since then I find there seems no end.
Out of control they overwhelm me
deciding my happiness and my sorrow, deciding who I'll be.
The worst part is yet to come,
of these feelings I know, naught can be done.
For my friend, my love, you who understands me
cannot, these feelings return I see.
I know, I understand and I respect,
your decision final and correct.
For two more mismatched people I do not know.
You the ocean and I the shore.
But these feelings, confound them, they overwhelm me
deciding my happiness and my sorrow, deciding who I'll be.

Granmama

I have had the most exhilerating day today. Well, in comparison to the rest of the week atleast. Today I crawled out of my house (my skin having turned sun sensitive and translucent) to run errands. By errands I refer to those evil creatures that lurk in your subconscious mind, silently gnawing away at your conscience. With my sieve like conscience I ventured out into the real world to finish some work for my grandmother. Having walked all the way to the bank I started feeling like such a good, dutiful, grand-daughter again that I decided not to push my luck and came back home. Hence I accomplished one millionth of what I was supposed to in that I identified the treacherous and perilious path to the bank. Although it appears as if I chickened out it was in actuality a courageous beginning I assure you. If you knew my granma you would know, that to do any work for her is to paint 'I love Iran' on your walls and call Bush junior for dinner. She thinks everyone wants whatever she's got. Especially her money... and her watermelon seeds. Don't think the squirrels who steal the watermelon seeds from her garbage get away. I'm pretty sure those seeds are laced with arsenic before they're thrown away. She's really, quite a good woman... I mean who would want squirells to steal their watermelon seeds right? It's totally understandable. But I'm always super cautious when I'm doing her work. If there are two things I hate more than anything else on this planet, it's misunderstandings and false accusations. Who loves them right? It's just that I positively dread being misunderstood. I'm saying this not in the profound sense (you've read the rest of this para right?) but in the day to day 'I did not take a cookie from the cookie jar' way. My grandmom is the undisputed queen in this department. She once accused my mom of swiping a cool 40k from her when my mom had taken that money from her to spring clean her house where the furniture qualifies as artifacts. In addition to the mouldy wood there exist an array of interesting fauna in the dingy nooks and cranies found in abundance in her bat cave. I am quite sure i saw a flying samurai lizard in her house once. How else must one explain how and why a lizard launches itself off a wall to collide with a shrieking and evidently hysterical woman who is equally evidently going to squash it with one swift blow from a broom. I am quite sure they were planning an attack. The lizards manned the aerial attack while the roaches went for our legs. They also had a secret weapon. We found what looked like rat crap all over the place but to date we haven't been able to find a live rat. Once my grandmom called me up (she lives in a different city) to give me a surprise. She had left icecream in her freezer. This she told me six months after she'd left. When I finally reached there (after another month had passed) I found tons of brown stuff enveloping the fridge. They were the size of rice grains and I was hoping and praying that they didn't sprout eyes and wings. In a bucket in the corner of the kitchen I had another surprise waiting for me. There were three dead rat babies in a bucket. I had no idea how they got there and more interestingly I didn't know if she had left them there for me to deal with. They were almost completely decomposed. If she had told me six months later I would have found just their skeletons. That would have been easier to deal with...
Inspite of all this I really do care about my grandmother, or so I keep telling myself when I'm skulking about her bat cave trying to find some paper or the other that I need to do her work. Shes the only grandparent I have left. I'd rather do all this stuff for her now than regret it later. After all, she does help my sieve like conscience heal and my confidence grow. Hence whenever I see a breathtakingly beautiful model on tv I say to myself, I bet she's shallow as hell and doesn't care about her grandmother at all.