Guilty…

The other day, I was about to park my Scooty near a shop when a young man in his twenties almost blocked my way shouting, ‘Madam, madam!’ He was carrying a large handbag. An older woman (possibly his mother) stood near him, dressed in an old navwari sari. For a moment I was taken aback but I ignored them, parked my Scooty and walked into the shop. I wasn’t going to fall for this, I knew this trick. He’d say that he’d come to the city from some far-off village in search of work, hadn’t found any and had no money to go back home. Would I kindly help him? Fifty rupees? Twenty?

By the time I stepped out of the shop, the young man and his mother were gone. Almost relieved, I started off.

And then it crossed my mind; he was probably simply asking for directions… And I felt terribly guilty for not paying any attention to him.

L’oubli et les souvenirs de mon grand-père

Faut-il se méfier de l’oubli ? L’oubli qui nous arrache de notre passé et qui nous prive de nos souvenirs les plus beaux. Ou faut-il se réfugier là-dedans ? Dans l’oubli qui adouci les souvenirs les plus amers et qui guérit les blessures que laissent les séparations.

Aujourd’hui, il me reste très peu de souvenirs de mon grand-père. Il est mort il y a plus de dix ans. Pourtant, je l’ai beaucoup aimé. C’était mon meilleur ami. Il me reste très peu de souvenirs des après-midi que l’on a passé ensemble jouant je ne sais plus quoi. Je ne me souviens plus de la forme de ses mains. Je ne me souviens plus des airs qu’il jouait sur son harmonica. Je ne me souviens plus de l’histoire qu’il me racontait chaque nuit.

Certes, il me reste des photos. Grâce auxquelles je n’oublierai jamais son visage foncé et ses cheveux blancs comme la neige. Il me reste aussi ses clous, son tournevis et toutes ses affaires ; lui, qui aimait bricoler. Je n’ai pas encore oublié le timbre de sa voix. Je n’ai pas encore oublié les rêves que l’on a rêvés ensemble rentrant de l’école quand il venait me chercher.

Et puis, je n’ai pas oublié non plus le jour où on l’a trouvé allongé par terre dans sa chambre, des ronflements émanant de sa bouche. Il avait subit une crise cardiaque. Fatal. Pour la première fois, j’ai vu les adultes s’effondrer en larmes. Moi aussi, j’ai pleuré. J’ai pleuré toute la journée. Epuisée, je me suis dit « Ce n’est qu’un cauchemar. Ça va passer. » Mais c’était bien réel. Depuis, je n’ai pas revu mon grand-père.

J’ai peur qu’un jour l’oubli gagne sur les souvenirs de mon grand-père, qu’un jour, je perde un peu de ce qui me reste de mon enfance.

Resolutely Non-Resolutionary

We played this interesting game at the New Year’s party. Everyone has to write down their resolutions on a piece of paper without disclosing their identity. Somebody then reads out the resolutions one by one and the others have to guess to whom that particular resolution belongs. It’s quite hilarious especially if the resolutions are written with a touch of humour.

Since I was hosting the game, I didn’t have to write down any resolution. Good thing though since I don’t have any. To give a clichéd response, my resolution is not to make any resolution at all. Because, after all the resolutions are forgotten the very moment the New Year celebrations are over. In all of the documented human history nobody is known to have lasted for more that a week…

Well, but since we have already crossed the threshold of the New Year, one must make some resolutions if only to uphold an old tradition. In any case, it doesn’t matter how long you last.

So here goes –

1) I will cut down on eating outside.
2) I will cut down on unnecessary expenditure like CCD coffees and Pastry Corner’s rum balls.
3) I will go for walks and exercise every single day. (Ouch!)
4) I will study regularly. (Ouch! Ouch!)
5) I will attend college classes regularly. (Ouch! Ouch! Ouch! Someone make me stop!)
6) I will work for world peace and bring an end to American hegemony. (Don’t snicker. This resolution is not any more improbable than the five above)
7) And here’s one for the benefit of my dear (non-existent (sniff! sniff!)) reader – I will stop making idiotic posts such as this one.

Now that I have seven resolutions in place, I can now go about forgetting them conveniently; at least until the next New Year’s…

Angry and disgusted...

What a wonderful starting to the New Year! Two women were molested outside J W Marriott where they had attended the New Year bash, by a mob of forty to fifty people. Thankfully (and quite surprisingly, considering how apathetic we Indians are in public) someone called the police but by the time they arrived the women had been trapped in crowd of those lousy perverts for about 10-15 minutes! No complaint was lodged until today when a tabloid published pictures of the horrendous incident.

Mind you, this is not the first incident of its kind. Last year, on the New Year’s Eve, a girl was molested by a mob near the Gateway of India. A few boys were later arrested, but that’s about it.

What is this country coming to? Can’t women and girls walk on the roads without the fear of being groped by sick men?

The police has conveniently washed off its hands saying they did all that they could and this was just an isolated event. I wonder how many women were molested and hurt that night but went unnoticed by cameramen.

The moral brigade will probably shout from the rooftops about how the New Year’s celebrations are a part of the ‘western culture’ (and thus necessarily evil) and how it is corrupting our young generation. And, by the way, shouldn’t respectable women be at home at 1.30 pm?

Women’s associations will cry hoarse.

Women will have to think twice before going on a night out.

The papers and the news channels will hash the issue until we’re bored.

And finally, it will be forgotten. At least until the next New Year’s.

What can we do to stop such events? Who is to blame?

Is it the girl herself? Does she invite all the bad attention by dressing ‘skimpily’? I personally do think that one needs to dress carefully to avoid getting into negative situations. But then, one cannot justify a rape or molestation by putting the blame on the girl by saying that she was dressed provocatively or that she was present at the wrong place at the wrong time. Nothing can ever and I repeat, ever give a guy the right to invade a girl’s personal space.

Is it then the influence of the ‘western’ culture? It’s time we got out of the self-congratulatory mode and stopped proclaiming that ours is the greatest culture on the planet. Instead of playing the blame game, we need to identify the problems in our society and do something about it.

Or is it the guy? It’s tempting to say yes. But I think it is the upbringing that is responsible for such behaviour. I mean, if a guy has seen his father beating his mother and friends teasing girls passing by on the road, it is very unlikely that he shall develop respect for women when he grows up. So I think the only solution is to teach little boys to respect women and girls. Not to put them on the pedestal and worship them but, to recognise them as fellow human-beings and their equals. This might sound a little naïve, but sometimes the solutions to big problems are really quite simple. Or are they?

Adieu 2007!

You have been good to me…

You taught me that it’s ok to be confused and scared about where your life is going; eventually you do find the right way.

You showed me that nothing is impossible; no dream is too big, no goal is unachievable.

You taught me to be brave and to follow my heart; you risk nothing and you gain nothing.

You helped me understand that my family is my biggest strength; without their support and love, I wouldn’t have the courage to carry on.

You taught me not to take things for granted; hard work and perseverance are the only keys to success.

You have been really good to me… But it’s time to move on now. I only hope 2008 is as good to me as you were!


Welcome 2008!!!