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Tuesday, February 2, 2016

My View- Coldplay-Hymn for the weekend

    
     India is getting increasingly intolerant. Aren't we hearing this quite often? And if you haven't heard it yet, be sure to watch the Newshour and you'll get your dose of the word 'intolerant' from Arnab 'The Nation wants to know' Goswami.
     I can't answer whether India is intolerant or no. Because having learnt research methodology I want proper numbers. Maybe we have always been intolerant; but you didn't feel it until a few years ago because you didn't have a large screened smartphone with fast internet, 2-3 social media apps, with viral-social-media websites giving you biased conclusions of a news report.
     You never know? Endless possibilities.
     Coming back to the topic, having seen the whole video Coldplay- Hymn for the weekend, I have no issues against the video. Nothing is out of the ordinary. You come across most of the shots, locations the minute you step out of your house, whether you live in city or rural areas.
     A few years back people celebrated Slumdog Millionaire winning an Oscar as if it was produced, directed by an Indian. That film actually set foreigners perception of India as a poor, filthy country more than a 4 minute song. But the latter is facing so much ire.
     What is the problem with people playing Holi in the video? Does it have to be put bluntly in the video with a calendar showing the day as "Rangpanchmi" for them to celebrate the festival?
     If you have a problem with Beyonce's every inch of skin decked up with jewellery? Please go turn on your tv to any Hindi entertainment show, and you'll see women sleeping with those massive jewellery and makeup on.
     Bringing me to the recurrent occurences of Sadhus, and children dressed as gods in the videos. A country obsessed with religion. Ask yourself truly, are we not? If Sadhus in India can sell noodles and another following suit, can't they be in the video being themselves? And every fancy dress show you'll find atleast 1 kid dressed up as Hanuman and everyone gushing over how cute the child looks.
     And if you think the video is adding to the image of India as a fire-blower, snake charmer country, you should know that the India's highest rated TV show is 'Naagin' on Colors Tv, a show with 'Ichchadhari Naag and Nevla (mongoose). Other top rated shows include one with kaala jaadu (black magic), possession etc.
     If you live in a city like Mumbai, you come across almost everything that happens in the video everyday- slums, people celebrating some festival and blocking traffic, sadhus, beggars, child labourers.
     I accept that there is also another India, where people wear formals, brave traffic or crowded public transport, have lunch between 1-2, and come back in the same way. But that doesn't make the former portrait as false. Both exist.
     
    P.S.- One hindi news channel had a problem with the shot of a person smoking, saying it is portraying that drug taking behaviour happens in India. Shouldn't you, being a news channel, know more about the drug problem?

Thursday, October 22, 2015

Being a woman

As a woman of this world,
I have a lot of responsibilities on my shoulders.

I have to be pretty all the while
But dress appropriately so as not be the object of everyone's eyes

I have to be mature, take my own decisions
But stay in my limits,
Coz duh! Girls have limited brain function

I have to take it as a compliment when people say "wow you can drive"
Coz for us right is left
And patriarchy is right.

I must have long hair
Can't cut them short.
Coz lambe baal is positively correlated to the amount of sanskaar

I have to go gaga at every baby i see;
even though they are wailing and disturbing my sleep;
Coz i hold baby making apparatus in me

When i'm angry, or sad it's always because of the unfertilised egg leaving me
Not because the external circumstances like a guy being a douche to me

I have to sit with my legs crossed, or close together
Coz keeping them wide open is code for "come at me"

And finally,
I have to analyse all the things that go wrong with me
Cross-examine myself
Coz it's all because of me
Because i'm a woman

Wednesday, July 15, 2015

Grim Realizations

Life is but one,
Comes with a clock
Ticking to the end. 

Tick
Excel in studies
Tock
Excel in work
Tick
Excel in relationships
Tock
Excel in life 

And you forget to have fun
Forget to quench your existential thirst

And then you are ashes.

Sadly you aren't a phoenix.

Monday, June 1, 2015

Thoughts in my mind

My mind is a black hole
sucking matters from everywhere
It lacks the filter
which shuts out things, and people
who should not be cared

For the mind can handle only so much of stress
Contradicting my psychology texts

Swirling around, like thoughts in a pensieve
Nowhere to go

Trapped in my mind
Trapping me in my life.



Sunday, May 17, 2015

Memories of MA-2

When you enter the class 5.10
You see a bunch of budding future psychologists
Eating as if they came from a starving land
The teacher sighing at the sheer amount of time passed with the kids hogging
She thinks of how it all started

June, 2014
The sun is burning
Everyone would come early
To catch the seat in front of the door kept open
A certain fan would stop turning
The whole class would sit quietly
Waiting for 5 hours to end

Come rains and terms like MMPI, ROR become our friends.
The class bond over food
With pasta, oats, bhel, and dhokla passing hands,
Feeding our tummies
Giving us the strength to face the tests

And then we have guests like "Chees-mayo sandwich, and franky and McD"
Disrupting the teacher
Lighting up the still hungry

Perhaps what really brought us together was our love for chai
It was love at first sight
The day we had bhajji and chai as it poured outside
Our love is so deep
That we have chai even when it's too many degrees outside

Let me tell you about the monster named "Dissertation"
Which gave us many a sleepless nights
From running hither dither to collect data
To understanding the finer nuances of Anova and Manova
As minute formatting slipped our attention
We realise after binding that theres a problem with the indentation

Second semester brought in counselling
Which is very helpful to us mental health professionals
We successfully apply CBT to ourselves
And secretly wondered whether Freud did make some sense
The 3 principles of PCT are ingrained in our heads
We can jump out of out beds and recite the steps to behavior therapy on a bet

And then it all came to an end.
Just like that
We dint have to reach college by ten
We dint have to convince ma'am to let us out early
Those days are gone when we got hooked to trashy songs
And laughed our hearts
All full of innocence

But those memories have found a place in our hearts
Where they will be cherished till time stands still.



Wednesday, November 5, 2014

The ever-debated question 'What is Life?'

Life. Can one ever operationally define it?
Let's try.
Life-something opposite to and preceeding death

But that is debatable. It may or may not be just life and death. It can be a cycle -no start, no end. A continuous circle of repetitive life and death.
We can also argue that death is not the end of life. It can be Life in a different avatar.

How can we ever know what death is?
How can we ever make up our minds about something that we have no idea of? It is just like judging a new girl in class- making assumptions based on her clothes and accent. The person may turn out to be what you thought she would be or she maybe a world apart and than what you thought. The same is with death.
Why do we see it is as something dreadful?

So coming back to Life.
Everyone's perception about life is subjective and so is life itself. There is no one perfect, proper life. I wonder how Plato would describe Life in his 'World of Ideas'. He said that there is a perfect world somewhere and everything that we know is a copy image of the perfect thing. So the table that you see burdened by your books is sort of like a xerox copy of a single perfect table in the world of ideas.

So how must be a 'perfect life'? 
Is it being rich and having all the luxuries?
Or having nothing and still feeling contented?

How do I see my life? 
Truth be told I ponder over my life most if not all the time. It may top my list of thoughts thought and beat others by a huge margin.

  When you have to define something you can do it by comparing it with something else.
If I compare my life with my relatives and friends, then I am good just as they are.
If I compare to the richest people in the world, well, I don't have a diamond studded bathtub nor am I crying for one. However, I am not starving either.
If I compare it to the people who don't have anything, who have days when they don't have one meal to go in their tummies; are diseased, isolated, then I have everything that I could ever ask for.
But what did I do to deserve this beautiful life that I am living? Why can i step out and go to college when there are others who can't? What have I done to deserve parents who love and protect me, who have created this safe haven for me to live and enjoy when there are infants discarded in dustbins? When a girl is abused by her own family? When a gay is not accepted by his own family?

Why have I won the lottery to Life?

Why do people suffer?
Why do people torture?
Is that what's their Life?
Is that what they're after?

But why are someone blessed?
And the others cursed?
Is it past life karma?
But can't they be forgiven?

What's in store for me?
What do I have in me?
Do I even mean something?
Or am I just a Star destined to be dust
and then brushed,
aside.
Does my living even matter?

Tuesday, June 17, 2014

My date with my allergies

     Allergic reactions.
     You've seen the characters on TV go through them; the incessant scratching, or blowing up, loss of breath etc. Funny, very funny. You've had their laughs at them and I too have indulged in them.
But not again.
     Duh! I will laugh at them (people blowing up like a balloon is really funny). But I will first have a moment of silence for all those poor souls who grapple with this horror and then laugh out.
As you have read the title to this blog, yes, I have an allergy. I would say I have two. Cigarette smoke gives me an awful headache and every time I have to pass by people smoking I mentally curse "maro saalo! But hume kyu maar rahe ho!". But I have another allergy too. And here is the surprise; cause of allergy: unknown. My allergen acts like a ninja- lurks in the shadows, kaam karke gayab. No naamo- nishaan! No one, neither my parents, me, nor doctors have found the source of the problem. Not a hint. In movies, the person would eat a certain thing and bam! reaction. But no! Prachi's body wants to be not like them silly common masses who have simple allergies. Prachi's body want to stand out, be different. And this is the third time in my life that I've suffered from it. No clue till now.
My recent bout happened last week. There I was sitting with my sister watching for the first match of the world cup (Brazil vs Croatia). As with any game I got hungry while watching it. So I ate half of the last mango of the dozen. It was a nastily sour. To deal with it a gobbled up a slice of fridge-cold watermelon and then finished with mango and vanilla ice cream which I specially bought for the game.
     Awhile later.
     Itchy toes. Itchy fingers, itchy back, itchy itchy itchy.
     Top it with me scratching, scratching, scratching.
     And I also commented to my sister "aaj machchar kuthun aale evdhe" (ah! You naive Prachi, you don't know what's ahead of you)
     That night I didn't sleep. When my Mum's alarm went off at 6 I groggily complained that I'm swelling up. And when my parents and I scrutinized my arms in the morning light, behold! Red, scratched out arms. I was alternatively crying and laughing coz on one hand its scary to see such horror on yourself and on the other hand, Hey I'm like those silly people on TV! My commotion managed to wake my sister, who fortunately didn't throw a fit and grew concerned for me too (Later she would crack jokes on me related to balloon, swelling up and the likes, but that's what elder siblings do). If you get my sister's concern then, you, dear person are really very ill.
     First aid, home-remedy by my Mum involved that I should be rubbed by kokum to bring relief. Did that. Then I sat on the sofa with the sticky feeling with newspapers beneath me because I didn't want to ruin the sofa.
     The only perks of being ill is people bringing you things and helping you with stuff which you would in your every non-allergic, non-happening day have to do by yourself. Walking around the house was next to impossible due to my swollen feet. I was limping around. Awhile later I went to the doctor who after usual "kya khaaya/ peeya?" questions gave me an injection to relieve me the pain and some meds and no answer to my curiosity other than guesses. I came home got myself 2 hours of peaceful, itch free sleep. Sister woke me up, served lunch (bless her!), I ate, popped lunch and went back to sleep.
     But that dreaded thing came back again. By evening, I started experiencing acidity too and was howling in pain with every burn. So we went to another Doctor.
     Now this doctor is a specialist in diabetes and paediatrics which I gaily announced to my sister as she was parking the bike when I got down "mujhe paediatrician ke paas laaya" (Yes! I poke fun at my expense). Being the very inquisitive person and highly anxious person that I am, I did what I always do while waiting at the doctors- read the medical posters stuck on the walls. I do this to get any knowledge I can on them mean diseases out there (as if I am going to remember all of it if needed). But that is what anxious people do. We get scared easily. Bear with us. So I read about how to take care of your feet if you are a diabetic, what to do if your BP drops, and two other posters of which I can recall absolutely nothing.
     Then I got called in. In went my small party of my Papa (who my sister dropped off first then came back to pick me up), my sister and me. This Doctor was all that a doctor should be according to me. Welcoming, talkative, sab-theek-ho-jaayega, confident, smart. I should inform you that this was the first time we went to this particular Doctor as we were referred to him by our kind neighbours. I think he must've been happy to see new faces, rather than the usual drab ones.
So this is how the events unfolded.
Doctor: Hello!
All of us: (beaming smiles) with my Papa adding a faint hello.
Doctor: So what's the problem?
Sister and Papa looking at me. I am opening and then closing my mouth like a stupid fish (coz fishes are stupid) with no words coming my mouth and in my head my inner voice waking up and giggling at my goofiness. So everyone just looked at each other for a few seconds then I just went and sat on the comfy doctor's bed so that the doctor knows I'm the patient and my Papa started because no matter what your age your parents are better at telling the doctor what is wrong with you more than you. (my inner voice: "quite a big sentence there Prachi. That will definitely not confuse those few people who'll read your drama")
Now I don't remember the exact conversation, but I'll just give the gist.
Papa: Doctor,... rashes.. swelling... etc etc..
Me: (finding my voice): ... acidity.. etc
I showed my arms. Doctor taking out his magnifying glass (my inner voice: "oooh! he has a magnifying glass"), checking the rashes.
Me: I have bad acidity too
Doctor: What did you eat?
Me: the usual gharka khaana, no baahar ka, then last night I ate mango, watermelon, and icecream.
Doctor: hmmm..
             don't worry my meds will get you better.
Me: So what's the cause of allergy?
Doctor: Can't say for sure. That you and your parents will have to find out (joking) since I am not the one living with you.
Us: (Polite laughter)
     Then the Doctor started saying and noting on the prescription something very scary.
 "But you will have to stop eating a few things...
 ...."Mango"...
my world stands still...
Sister (big, shocked, wait-a-min-what-did-he-say eyes and an evil smile lurking, growing bigger by my every restriction), Papa (silently shivering with laughter), me (wtf) (darling voice inside my head at full speed- "Mango! Mango! how dare you... oh well but the season is over.. and I ate the last one...no biggie..")
     Now here I should tell you my love for Mangoes.

Mangoes are loved by many. We should pity instead of slapping those stupid people who don't like them. They have cheap tastes. I love mangoes alot. But its pure love that I have for a Hapus (Alphanso). I can whiff a mango in a room, sniff out a ripe one, sit like Gollum in a corner with my-precious. I eat a lot of mangoes at a time and prefer eating them as a fruit than as aamras or milkshake. It is my task at home to find out a ripe mango to be cut and devoured by the family and I'm pretty good at it.
Unless the mango is a stupid Keshari, or something-other-than-sweet-hapus. The difference between a hapus and the others is known to all, in prices and tastes. The others are good, but not the best. My mango-picking expertise failed me this particular time because this Keshari (or whatever) doesn't sport a particular ripened colour which says "hey eat me I'm all ready" like our Hapus does. Nor does start smelling heavenly when its ripe. It just sits there being green, and non- fragrant, trapping clueless people in their tangy, not ripe taste! Them cheaters!

So coming back to doctor's room
..."Kokum sharbat"...
Awkward faces by all three of us because of the kokum rubbed on me and the kokum sharbat happily consumed by me earlier that day
..."imli, chutney, achaar, kuch khatta teekha oily nahi"...
Sister and Papa continuing with their silent giggles, me completely horrified ("Noooo!!!Noooo!! what is life without spicy and tangy! .. no paani-puri, dosa,... No! My life is over! How will I survive!)
.... "dahi, taak (chaas)"...
("oh. you. did. not. just. add. that. to. the. list. You took my mango, now you are taking my dahi and chaas away from me too? why don't I just starve to death seeing that you are cutting off everything that I eat except rice.. sob...")
..."besan"...
My sister was showing her teeth to me, my father had his palm on his mouth, and my face had turned sour by then. ("vada pav, bhaji! Its rainy season! bhaji ab nahi khaayegi toh kab khaayegi main!")
..."fish".
My supportive Papa and sister had quietened down by then. ("where will I get those omega acids! oh but we hardly eat fish in rainy season.. but toh bhi..hmmm")
    
     The Doctor then looked up and saw me. I figure my expression was a mixture of sadness, shock, mind blown hilarity. He must've sensed it coz he said
"only for awhile.. not permanent". And this is how we heard it
Sister: ("only for awhile.. not permanent").
Prachi: (woohoo! till college re-opens!)
Papa: (No mangoes, dahi, taak, achaar for life!)
     So the Doctor told me to keep a tab on what I eat, "make an excel sheet" in his words, so that we know what bloody thing is making me itch (obviously I did not keep a tab). After dropping me home, my sister went back to pick up Papa and then had a gala time laughing over me. My Papa also announced the restrictions to my Mum after coming home as if its the worlds best joke and all had a laugh.
     After two days routine of
get up, breakfast, meds, sleep
get up, lunch, meds, sleep
get up, tea, tv, tp
dinner, meds, and sleep; I was back on track.

*****
So if all this happened last week, why am I ranting it a week late you ask?
Well it could be because I have a lazy ass.
But this time it is not so. This time it is because while returning home in the evening my lovely father called me up to get some snacks to go with tea.

I got 2 vadapavs and 2 vada for my family.
Those were hot, crispy, just-taken-out-of-the-kadhai-infront-of-me vadas.
And I did not eat one!
Yep!
 I had to make do with a Nutrichoice five-grain biscuit. People shrink away from it but I have always loved ragi/oats, healthy biscuits.
But if you have piping-hot vadas and health biscuits side-by-side, what will you eat?
My darling mum as always told me to bindass go ahead and eat (she never believed in diet restrictions) but my Papa gave a grunt no to which I replied "college chalu hone tak Ma".
Fortunately he didn't hear it.

*****
I did not eat that vada-pav.