Dear stranger,

Here's what I think.

If you're doing drugs, you're probably doing it hidden away in some corner of some place I never ever go to. So while I think it's stoopid of you to ruin your life that way, it's not really my problem if you choose to do so.

If you're in the habit of getting drunk regularly (yes, I know - alcoholism is a serious problem, and I should be more empathising; I try, believe me), again, it's not really my concern what you do to your liver. Unless, of course, you are married to and are making life miserable for me or my near and dear ones.

But when you smoke, dear stranger, it's not just your lungs you're filling with God-knows-what. It's my lungs too. You smoke out in the open, just anywhere you please. And you think it's cool. But I have to inhale that same air. Smell that hideous smell which makes me feel queasy without fail. See those ashes fall to wherever you choose to flick them. Why the devil should I have to put up with that?

For a more - how shall I say this? - eloquent opinion on smoking, you may read this. Thank you.

NB: Yes, I do seem to be on a roll after a month of silence, don't I? Ironic, considering I had two weeks of vacation earlier this month. But apparently inspiration strikes only when I am neck-deep in work and really shouldn't be taking the time out to blog.

"Usko humne chir diya..."

In my first year of college, I had joined one of those compulsory societies where you have to complete a certain number of hours of social service over the year in order to get your clearance to give your final exams. Some time in September, the society organized a documentary screening, for which we would all get 5 hours' credit.

The documentary screened that day was about the Godhra riots. It had interviews with victims, talking about what they went through. There was a young boy interviewed, not more than 9 or 10 years old, who spoke in a dull voice about seeing his pregnant aunt's womb slit open with a sword. I came home that night and howled in front of my father.

Today, I read a transcript of Babu Bajrangi's description of how he did exactly what I had heard about all those years ago.

Five days ago, I started a blog entry about Durga Puja. Today, I feel almost ashamed to call myself a Hindu. The first thing almost any religion in the world teaches is peace and tolerance and love. Not this. Never this.

If you haven't read the current issue of Tehelka yet, do so here.

Fyi

I have a bible bump on my leftwrist. It is utterly painful, but apart from that, not at all serious, and needs no drastic treatment.

How utterly boring.

And no, I am not going to bang it with a hammer.


I like the name though. Bible bump. Heh. Infinitely preferable to ganglion cyst.

WE WON!

We won we won we won we won we won we won we won we won we won we won we won we won we won we won we won we won we won we won we won we won we won we won we won we won we won we won we won we won we won we won we won we won we won we won we won we won we won we won we won we won we won we won we won we won we won we won we won we won !!!!!!!!!!!

I'm happy.

Fair game

I am so sick and tired of people using that old excuse of women dressing provocatively whenever a woman is molested to justify what men do.

On 16 September, close to 43,000 men collected near IP College, in North Campus, to give two exams: for joining the Delhi Police as constables, and to become Lower division Clerks. After the exams, mobs of 200-250 men together started moving towards the college, and innumerable cases of molestation occurred that day. The two worst cases that I heard about on the radio this morning including 250 men surrounding one girl and tearing her clothes, and pinching and touching her all over, as well as another case where some 15 odd men dragged one girl into the lift at the Vishwavidyalaya Metro station and molested her there. There were no police or security forces present, and when the girl molested at the Metro station went to lodge an FIR, she was apparently told by the police that security at Metro stations is the responsibility of the CRPF and has nothing to do with them.

Today, while traveling to college, I was listening to the radio, and that's when I heard about all this. Two radio channels had got girls from IP College on air, speaking about what had happened, and what their demands were. Listeners were, as usual, asked to call up and give their opinions. One lady called up and spoke at length about how women dress in skimpy clothes and provoke men. Do the people who say this actually believe it themselves? Half the women who are eve-teased or molested or even raped on the streets are dressed in salwar kameezes. Yet this arguement comes up every freaking time. It came in the comments left by two male friends when I wrote about eve-teasing more than a year ago. Women in villages don't dress in short skirts; yet they're raped by men from their village, their neighbourhood, their own family.

Sonia Faleiro wrote this piece about a week back. Reading it just reminded me of how helpless we women still are. No matter how much hogwash you spout about us having made so much progress (and if you give me the example of Pratibha Patil being President I might just slap you), the truth is, we have so far to go it's not even funny.

My mother tends to laugh of my paranoia about feeling unsafe on the roads. She says she heard enough comments during her college days. I point out to her that she studied in a city like Kolkata where a dozen people would appear to defend any woman who is so much as whistled at. I, on the other hand, have the supreme misfortune of being privileged enough to study in the Capital of India, where a woman is raped in broad daylight at Khooni Darwaza, and not a soul comes forward to help her. Where a woman goes to the police to lodge an FIR about having been molested, and they refuse to do so.

I travel by DTC buses almost everyday. And I never know whether that man pressed up against me is doing so because of how crowded the bus is or simply because he gets some perverse kick out doing so. I've been followed by a guy driving a Camry and speaking English while walking home from our neighbourhood market - so what if I live in a supposedly posh colony. It doesn't matter what I'm wearing, where I am, or how I look. I'm a woman, traveling alone in the city of Delhi. That makes me fair game.

Insight of the day

Here's the thing.

Your girl friends will always say you look pretty, if not gorgeous, no matter what state you're in.

Your family will always say you're fat, no matter how much weight you lose.

So where the devil does a girl go for some objective opinions?!?

Good Lord

I think more than the actual ruling itself, I am far more startled by the comments in response to this article. Why do I seem to be the only one who seems unable to see the "secular" aspect of this ruling?

I'm a Hindu, yes. But no, I have never read the Bhagvad Gita. As a child, I religiously followed - pun completely unintended - Mahabharata every Sunday morning, except for when the Gita was going on. Which meant for at least six Sundays in a row, I could get up late.
I don't think I've ever even seen a copy of the Gita. Unless you count the Amar Chitra Katha comic version of it. And even that I just flipped through without ever reading the whole thing.

And you're talking of making this our national "dharam shastra"?

Come to think of it, what the devil does "dharam shastra" mean anyhow?

[Link courtesy India Uncut]

Free association

I feel almost apologetic about the bombardment of posts this month.

So I'm just back from watching the movie Chak De. A quick review before I bring up the two points it brought to mind: Nice movie - rather well made, I thought. The girls were good, while SRK was annoying in the few scenes he had to give inspirational speeches, tolerable in the rest of the movie.

I'm not an SRK fan. Let's move on.

I was amazed that Aaj Tak agreed to give its name and be portrayed in such a manner. Aaj Tak is one of those channels I refuse to watch because the few times that I have found myself watching it, all i have seen is either the latest news from Bollywood, in which case I would rather go straight to Zoom, or very absurd things being reported with highly dramatic background music being played. However, from what I gather, Aaj Tak is also one of those channels which enjoys pretending it's a court and judging people based on little or no evidence. And you've got to hand it to them; it takes guts to go out and let yourself be portrayed in a manner you'd be stoopid not realize you're criticised for.

What was the other thing? Oh yes.

March 23, 2003 remains one of the most painful memories for me. My economics Board exam was three days away, but practically everyone in my batch had kept their books aside that day to watch the cricket World Cup final between India and Australia. Chak De totally ripped off the pattern for that World Cup in this match. Lost the first League match against Australia, come back with a bang to win every single match to follow, and meet up with Australia again in the finals. The only thing they didn't rip off was the goddamn conclusion of that match. Sheesh.

It's time.

Time's a funny thing.

You think an event is ages away, you have all the time in the world to prepare, and suddenly, before you quite realize what's happening, it's here.

Exams, deadlines, or just your kid brother going away to the other side of the world for college. You think there's a month left, but the month flits by so quickly it seems like a second.

Then you think it's just four months till your birthday comes, or till it's time for that dream vacation you've got planned, or till he comes back for the holidays. But time doesn't work that way. No sirree. Take it from me, those four months will seem like four years. Because time's just a funny old thing.

We did Time Perception in our practicals in first year of college you know.

"The family has five cars."

The Times of India always knows just which interesting trivia-l facts it should insert in its articles, dunnit?