I’m Disgusted.
This city needs a vigilante.
This city needs to wake up to several mornings of mutilated bodies of criminals splayed on the sidewalks.
If I had a gun and If I had the resources I’d shoot them all in the head. The rapists, the molesters, the ones who got arrested and the ones who sit at home smiling. If i only had a way, If i only had an ounce of authority or power.
Delhi has now crossed limits and boundaries and I think it is time that people take actions.
A man touches you on the bus, push a knife into his stomach. He looks at you wrongly, gouge his eyes out.
You just simply cannot wait for your “leaders” to make things right. Our leaders are nothing but an infestation of pests. The question or the debate is no longer about BJP or Congress because it is almost like choosing between two evils.
It doesn’t matter who is more corrupt or more honest or whatever because at the end of the day they all live by the same principles. They are all purchasable.
Women, you should kill all the men you see, in true honesty I feel that none of us deserve to live anymore. Maybe with our end the plague will die out, maybe things will change because otherwise I’m sure that everything in this world is corruptible.
The Usual Symptoms
You are so ready to feel loved and feel worthy of being loved and yet you are so choosy on what that love would look like. Think of all the various types of love you have received in your life and realize that someone who is always late all the time isn’t really that bad. Some of the people who said they loved you just wanted to find a shortcut into your pants or they called you names, hit you, messed up your head and left you all in the name of affection. Life forces you to reach a stage when even someone remotely showing interested in you, makes you feel like you’ve caught the big fish.
You allow the disdainful courtship to proceed fairly quickly because you want to hear them say “I Love You”. Getting to know them properly with proper amounts of reflection and hesitation is currently not your plan of action. There is just someone frequently finding themselves in your arms, giving you a sense of devotion. You don’t even feel that you deserve more.
You hold on to them very tightly sitting together on the sofa of a posh upmarket café, knowing that the moment you both leave things will be different. You come to get used to the fact that they only give love in minute amounts, yet you cannot get accustomed to it. You feel a certain amount of longing even when they are only a few feet away from you. Their presence at your side is always a pleasant surprise, never something that you can ever take for granted.
You ask them for more signs of commitment and they stall you. You want them to tell you how much they need you but inside you know that they will say it only to please you. You quietly pray to god for a version of them that cares about you as much as you do for them. You quietly wish that they take you to a place with all their friends and proudly present you to every new person you meet. Just think about the life you would’ve had, if you did not know that they somehow felt ashamed about you. You know that they will never declare true love but bring yourself to believe that you don’t care.
But you do.
You feel the grasp of the relation closing around your neck and yet you don’t get a kick in the shin to tell you that “You deserve better”. You tell yourself that you expected worse than this and are contempt with the current situation, shame on you.
You meet a common friend on the road and they ask you “How long have you been in love?” and your ‘lover’ meekly replies “Ohh! We’re just seeing each other!” It suddenly brings you to realize that you are in a platonic relationship but you gave them free benefits, all that you planned with them was just like contemplated suicide, harsh.
Best of luck explaining the situation to all your closest friends who you told about your true love.
You tell them you are not in love.
You know you are.
You tell yourself that you’ll choose wisely next time. You won’t.
I’m Angry, Furious and Raving Mad.
India is a country that borrows vastly from its past, such has oft been said about the country that I currently live in. Why India? Let us not anglicise the term, let us call the land Hindustan as our forefathers used to call it.
The past has shown women who speak for and think of themselves to be immoral and villainous; it is not I who is saying this. Go read the Mahabharata, the Ramayana or any Indian Scripture for that matter. On one hand our forefathers worshipped goddesses and on the other they condemned those who resembled embodiments of these very goddesses.
Women who are portrayed as the Perfect Woman in these epics are enormously beautiful, insanely willing to give service and totally dependent. They part that strikes as absolutely stupid is where the Evil Woman is neither beautiful nor willing to give and yet totally dependent on the males. A weird patriarchal society had been wrought by our forefathers that had no important place for women even though some parts of the Vedas argue.
The sex-appropriate ideals that are prominent throughout The Ramayana were a reflection of the patriarchal values that structured ancient Indian society. By placing the characteristics of the virtuous woman in stark contrast with the behaviours of men and immoral women, the epic attempts to justify the superiority of men and the subordination of women. This design also imparts upon the audience that the worth of a woman is measured by her beauty and the pleasure she can provide to her husband, and that her value was found through him rather than through herself.
Sita, in the Ramayana was captured by Ravana due to Rama’s foolishness and yet it has her character that came into question. It was she who had to take the “Fire’s Test” to prove herself. In this respect I find Ravana to be a better man than the ideal Rama, at least Ravana never forced himself upon the woman.
There are numerous examples in the glorious past of this country that detail the horrific crimes that have taken place on women. The “Nagarvadhu” was an elaborate concept detailed by our horny forefathers. A woman was chosen to be the “Nagarvadhu” or bride of the city, her work was to provide sexual satisfaction to anyone who came a knocking at her door. As I write this I am afraid that a religious fanatic of a political party might come across this and tell the world about this as a certain measure to stop rape in the present day.
India is actually one of the few countries in the world to have propaganda for “Religious Prostitution” in the ancient times. Pre-Pubescent Girls were married off to the Temple Idols and very conveniently had to service the priests, devotees and wayfarers.
Moving on to the medieval age, it simply does not matter because nobody in today’s society has heard of Razia Sultana, Durgavati, Mirabai and it has no effect on the minds of the people either.
The British oppression further widened the rifts between classes and turned women into objects. The British chased after the so-called “Dark Skinned Beauties” and raped them in front of their families, sometimes they had orgies where the family of the woman were called as servers. The situation was quite horrific. The British afraid of these facts leaking out did an about turn and started blaming the Indian men for blaming their women, this further aggravated the Indian Public and during the Revolt of 1857, nobody was spared.
The last thing that actually ruined things was the interpretation of women in Indian Cinema. Indian Cinema has always, and I repeat ALWAYS shown Rape as something that a woman enjoys after initial refute. You see a woman in a helpless situation with the rapist having a big smile on his face. The woman initially says no but then she is show kneading her toes into the bed which is shown as a sign of enjoyment. This is disgusting.
After the incident, either the rapist is never caught or the victim never tells anyone to save her face in the society or something equally absurd. Even if she gets justice it is only due to a timely intervention of the hero.
On the same terms we should make a certain movie compulsory for every boy in this country, a certain movie called Zakhmi Aurat. See this gorgeous review and synopsis about this movie – http://bollywooddeewana.blogspot.in/2009/10/zakhmi-aurat-1988.html
So either you people raise your kids well or I’m going to go around showing this film to your kids and explaining to them what rape is, what castration is and how to respect women properly. It is a fair warning to all you people who read this and I’ll soon be interacting with those that cannot possibly read my blog.
This post is a ramble, I wrote non-stop and vented out everything in my head at once. I will not give solutions because those are debatable. I have listed a possible chain of events and perpetrators that have ruined society but it is not meant for blaming the above reasons for their actions. I am not defending anybody. If I had my way I would make them public examples of ridicule, shame and horror but then I am just an enraged 22 year old and my views hardly matter to the important people. Read this, discuss this, critique my views but before you drag me to the gallows for writing blasphemous things, do something to bring about a change in you. I’m not defaming anyone or anything, not even breaking any IPC. If however I am found guilty of doing so, arrest me.
Obese People Are As Good As Dead : “Shit Non-Fat Assholes Say”
Around 90% of people associate Obesity with imminent death. When you’re obese, everyone you meet is a well wisher, everyone has an opinion to give about your weight. People call you fat. I simply don’t understand how that has become an insult.
All of these people have certain cliched things to say:
“Beta, Why don’t you run?”
Well simply because I have tried and it does not work. Then again since I’m fat, anything that I claim to have tried or done about my weight is negated unless I have a lean-mean toned body at present.
“Metabolism? Arrey ussey kuch farak nahi padhta!”
Ya great, I never knew you were a doctor. How did you guess that my body’s inability to properly digest food is all bullshit? Oh the agony of knowing, of having consulted so many expensive doctors. If only you had appeared before me before, in shining light.
“Bro Gym Maar Yaar”
Oh! How come I never thought of that? Maybe because manual exercise is painful, it hurts my already effed up spine. My spondylosis, which is partially genetic hurts me, causes me pain. When I run, it hurts. When i sit, it hurts. It just hurts a lot from exercise Ok?
“You never try hard enough! You don’t care about your future!”
Ahh well. I don’t. Simply because I have and it doesn’t change shit. And as for my future, yeah my plan is a painful form of suicide which spans atleast 5-6 decades and involves me consuming everything that compels me to continue living.
“You’re going to have Health Problems. Fat kills you!”
Yes, on an average fat people tend to have heart problems but the majority of them are morbidly obese, have diabetes, sleep apnea and other hyper tension related diseases. No they don’t occur just like that.
I have as much chance of dying from obesity as of getting hit by lightning during a storm. I should propably stop enjoying rains too.
I just can’t understand why my weight appears to you as such an eyesore, you random strangers, relatives and guests.
I’m fat. It’s somewhat genetic. I could do all the shitty running and jogging, I could starve to death but I will remain the same.
Studies have shown thin people as having higher risks for heart disease, People should be glad that I didn’t have bulimia. Life is complicated folks, so stop stereotyping and branding things.
Obesity does not kill anymore than common cold. Sometimes you can have a metabolism which may not allow you to lose weight, sometimes your body frame may be too stocky. All external factors, multiple things that can affect a person.
So stop being pitiful and mean. Let a man with a paunch teach you the pleasure of eating. 🙂
P.S. – BMI is shit. Look here instead.
Kuch Bandh Padha Hain
Na jaane in darazo me rakka kya hain?
Kya hain woh khilone bachpan ke,
Kuch tute kuch adhmare se,
Jinke saath ab meri khelne ki chaah nahi h.
Ya phir rakhe hain kuch khat,
Kuch yaadein simat kar rakhi gayi hain.
Magar dhool jami hain darazo par,
Kya kholta hoga inhe ab koi?
Raakhe honge kuch purani baatein,
Woh school ke medal aur scholar badge ki yaadein.
Ab engineering padhte padhte unki,
Yaad aati hain khub jamke.
Yah hain bhai ki koi shaitani,
Koi surri bamb ya koi makaude.
Yaah kuch mithai chipai hogi usne,
Chup chupke khata hoga phursat me.
Na jaane in darazo me rakha kya hain?
Inhe kholkar dekhoonga kabhi.
Magar aaj waqt hi kaha hain,
College jaane se phursat hi nahi
Shopping with Women
Putting it forth more as a general observation than a general statement; Women love to shop.
Women love to meander their way through floors of one shopping arcade after another. They like to glide up glass escalators past a grand piano, or spray a perfume sample on themselves on their way to, maybe, making a purchase. Sale’s make them go even crazier. They’ll pick up every item of clothing on sale, put it against their body, critique it and put it back. Even then the Sales People pay more attention to them.
When they go on to the next shop and find a similar item of clothing as in the one before, they definitely have to know the price and then comment on whichever was better. Women are also considered masters in bargaining, if I could I’d let a lady do all my purchasing while I select the items myself. Just helps getting better value for money that way. Although I speak with no personal experience of being present with a girl choosing make-up, (Mine believes in simplicity, Bless her. :* ) I can definitely say that it must one hell of a dung bomb. Standing there seeing the girl with you pouting her lips, applying lipstick, taking it off, applying another and so the vicious circle continues. I feel blessed that I don’t have to go through this at least.
We men follow a simple routine: Enter, Select, Try, Buy, Exit. That’s it. We’re done and settled for at least the coming two months. I’m not saying that we follow this routine for everything we buy, No. I’m just commenting with respect to clothes, accessories, make-up and personal grooming.
Shopping for women is generally followed up by a widespread discussion of what she bought, how cheap it was and how awesome she thinks she looks in it with all of her female friends. While with men it’s just a thumbs up from your buddy next day in college.
While women have shopped with men (boyfriend/fiancé/husband) or at least tried, they seldom enjoy the experience. As I would say, Men are just more practical. We wouldn’t do any of those impractical things. Men on the other hand rarely shop with women if they’re not dating/married/to-be-married. It just causes us too much mental trauma.
Some studies even say that how men and women shop is sometimes related to how they indulgence in sex. Men start, do the deed and want to turn over and sleep while women see sex almost as a theatre drama with 3 main acts; Foreplay, Intercourse and After Play or Pillow Talk. Some men are different and so are some women.
Why I write such things? Well today I broke past my critical point. Almost 6 hours of shopping, talking about shopping, checking out shopping, dreaming about shopping more and cribbing about lack of money. Good benevolent being up there, I think I’ve had it for a lifetime. My legs hurt, I feel pukish when I look at clothes, I become blue when I look at sale signs. Someone please explain these symptoms to me. I may be dying.
Or is it just *Shopping with Women*?
Where Colors Come To Die
Where dreams shatter and clouds pour in color,
A man walks by in a single file of lies.
Bursts of wondrous joy and madness,
Pour in constant about us.
Where colors come to die and paint sheds a tear
When wondrous shapes fill the wall with smoke
Splashes of white waste on the walls
Colorful intrepid haze of acid
Floating the floor below us and above
In dewdrops of red and orange
Misty walls of distant dreams
Placemats of gods creation
A Feminine Ordeal
She crept up silently from her bed and dusted the night’s madness off her self. It was an eerie hour of dawn and she began preparing her mind for the ordeal that lay ahead. She got off her tiny bed and looked out the window of her cramped little room.
The vastness of the view seemed to fight her meek existense, as if to sound out a challenge. She closed the shutters and rid herself of the prying eyes, the soul less glares. She tiptoed towards the bathroom stealing glances behind her, trying to find shadows in the non existent crevices of her dingy room. The shower welcomed her with warmth against the chill of the city.
She stood beneath the running water, a lifeless form, castrating thoughts, memories and distinguished nightmares from her mind. She was fighting it all but she knew today will be her last. She made herself a cocoon with the towel and wore her everyday clothes, a jeans, a t-shirt and the power to endure all.
She gathered her bag and left the room, her sad eyes scanned the room knowing that the room, her world might get lost today. She tiptoed down the stairs and into the open road, into the freedom.
Her clothes felt weird on her body, in reality she felt naked as she watched each man she passed by, strip her with his eyes. She pulled her clothes in tighter, afraid that they’ll be taken away in a horrible sort of way. She passed by more lecherous men and with time the glares got stronger, almost open challenging her chastity. Lewd actions had started making their presence felt, gestures of breast gropes and other horrid fantasies.
She felt like a hamster in a cage, running on a wheel to no result. Her mind fluttered in her darkness as her body took part in material erotica of the people she passed by. A crowd was approaching and as she was being justled from side to side she felt lingering touches on her breasts and bottom. Uncomfortable as she was, she had no choice, it was a ritual almost.
She remembered the senile old man who groped as she was touching his feet, the roadside romeos who pulled out their appendages even without any provocation from her side. The cars with black tinted windows who stopped beside her asking how much she took for the night. Men with their mind in the gutters, men whose head were still held high.
She looked behind abruptly and saw three men following her closely with evident malicious intent. She saw the gate on her left, it was close. Perhaps she should run but that would show her weakness. She walked on at a quiet pace, her ears rejecting the bile that came from the mouths of the men.
She saw the men catch up to her, she flanked to her right and entered the gate. She had reached college, she was safe another day, her life returned to her.
She would live for another day, her life was still safe but she would have to endure it again. Tomorrow, day after, day after day, such has become the existence of women in our horrid society.
Written on the eve of Women’s Day.
The Way Back
I stepped into the world
With a flame alight in my heart
A sound of distant rolling thunder
An echo of lost dreams
I took the first steps with uneasy caution
With a wisdom of an old man seldom lost
A wilderness grew in my heart
Materials lost in the undergrowth
Searching in the hidden, the wild unknown
I found in the slivers, the blades of grass
The wild berries and sweet nectars
A love for the empty road
The dreams I had forgotten
A love for the love lorn wild
A quiet distant fate
A sad broken child within me
I took a long journey
Of self discovery and love
But the best part of it was
The jouney home and above
Another Parody Called Life
What do you do for your family, for your house?
Frankly, Yes I don’t do anything. I lie down on my bed all day staring into a laptop screen with headphones in my ears.
Once or twice I feel like going and helping them. I go and say *So whats happening? Tell me what to do?* and I always get the same reply. *No thanks, You’ve done enough.* Well If I did then why blame me all this while? I just don’t understand all this unnecessary use of sarcastic lines. I don’t know when it started. I’ve automatically taken a back seat to my family. I prefer keeping to myself, not that I’m talking or thinking about anybody else at that moment. I just like sitting back and thinking of all the ways my life sucks and about all the things I have to do, the things that need to be.
What am I? An engineer? A photographer? I don’t even know for sure. I don’t even know what I am supposed to be doing. Is *Don’t want to be an Engineer* an optimistic career goal after completing engineering? Or is confusion about doing photography after breathing with a camera for 4 years too wasteful?
I used to write a lot too, where has that habit gone? Do I need to rediscover myself or is it too late?
My parents always told me *Jack of All Trades, Master of None* and yet they didn’t stop me from doing everything I set my eyes on. I did all that I could muster and some things that I could not fathom. I made Music, I wrote Poetry, I wrote Fiction Novels, I clicked Photographs, I made Movies, I made Computer Programs, there’s a hell lot more to this list. Sometimes I wonder how life would have been if I would have just narrowed it down, maybe I could do one thing better than everybody else, maybe I could have rid myself off this utter confusion and despair.
1.5 Semesters to go till I officially pass out of college and I don’t know my next step. I was never one for the ever so thoughtful game of chess. Even in Chess, the future was always clouded to me, I could never predict moves, nor the psyche of my opponent.
I can never judge people, I say things off the top of my head, I am deeply judgmental and I am scared. In this race to always be known, always be regarded by people, I have lost myself. I don’t know anymore who I am, I look back at myself 2 years ago and find myself totally different.
My thoughts aren’t my own, I don’t even know if I think at all. Most of the times I am just vacant, totally hollow from inside. I’m lost like a child in a jungle of modernity and hunger. I walk alone in restless dreams. All I want is some anarchy, some deep rooted anarchy. I’m craving for anarchy in my life, in my world.
In the words of the ancients,
Ύβρις είναι μοιραίο λάθος μου και η ζωή είναι η καταστροφή μου.
“Hubris is my fatal flaw and Life is my Ate”
I will lay me down for you!
When you’re weary, feelin’ small
When tears are in your eyes, I will dry them all
I’m on your side, oh, when times get rough, and friends just can’t be found
Like a bridge over troubled water, I will lay me down
Like a bridge over troubled water, I will lay me down
When you’re down and out, when you’re on the street
When evening falls so hard, I will comfort you
I’ll take your part, oh when darkness comes, and pain is all around
Like a bridge over troubled water, I will ease your mind
Like a bridge over troubled water, I will ease your mind
Sail on silver girl, sail on by
Your time has come to shine, and all your dreams will run their way
See how they shine, oh, if you need a friend, I’m sailing right behind
Like a bridge over troubled water, I will ease your mind
Like a bridge over troubled water, I will ease your mind
The Tale Of The Freebird
I stood mooring on a cliff,
Staring vacantly at the chasms blue.
My wings were quite weary,
Flying through a storm or two.
I tapped my feet on the rock,
Quite unsure of my flow.
But I had seen the others,
Quite dainty right below.
I spread my wings and saw,
A feather ruffled or two.
I tapped my feet again,
Unsure of what to do.
A slight chill in the air,
The gale my ugly foe.
It understood quite well,
My intentions to go below.
A fear started in my heart,
And it slowly grew.
If ever my wings could take flight,
Was not something I knew.
Then I felt a warm presence,
A beautiful radiance in slight.
She asked what I was doing,
Why I wasn’t in flight?
I showed her my ruffled feathers,
Told her of my fears.
She opened up her wings,
There were holes made by spears.
Yet when she flew,
What a magnificent sight.
She came around a sharp turn,
And sneaked up on my right.
She gave a mighty push,
I shot clear of the cliff.
Save me, save me I cried,
From my trembling lips.
She said let your wings out,
Embrace the world below.
I looked down and saw,
I was flying quite low.
I flapped my wings, flapped them harder,
I found that I could fly.
My joy was quite unbound,
That I shot up straight so high.
I caught up with the Freebird,
Asked her of her tale.
Regardless of the matter,
With her in love I fell.
Distances
Distances have acted as bonding reagents and have made relationships fall apart. They act both as a curse and a cure.
People often talk about maintaining distance, private space and other foolhardy things. And so to speak they are significant words but they have no effect on day to day life.
If I love someone I do not give a damn about their so called personal space. I will not let you mope and leave you alone. Not now, not ever. I will poke you and poke you and either find out the problem or take a good hiding from you.
<Fade Screen>
<Enter love of my life>
Now she is one person who always gets my hands full at all times. I always used to be the cool headed person around with the most logic solutions. And all of you should look at how hard I’ve to work with her. No. It is in no way a complain. Not per say that I have to work at things with her. No. I love the way she looks at things. I love the way she sets her mind on one thing and goes to no end to see it done. I love the way she managed to turn the pessimistic; I’ve known myself to be all my life; into a blind optimist. I love the way she corrects me when I’m wrong. The most amazing she does is love me and take care of me no matter how many shortfalls I may have in life.
I shout at her, I scream at her, I have hurt her in many ways but no matter what she is almost the only person in the entire world who can control my anger or simply make it vanish in a minute.
Love,
I don’t care about the distance that may seprate us. I know not what the future stores for us. I’ve earned your trust, I hope I have, and I want to have the comfort of blindly trusting you for the rest of my life.
I know I’m not the most perfect person in the world, I don’t think I even come close to that. I have major issues and I know it is only you who understands every single detail of my life.
Distance never separates two hearts that really care, for our memories span the miles and in seconds we are there. But whenever I start feeling sad, because I miss you, I remind myself how lucky I am to have someone so special to miss.
I’m so damn lucky that I have you in my life to take care of me, now, forever and ever more.
Never think that I’ll be leave you, never ever worry about that. This bond we have is much deeper and more meaningful than anyone except us can understand. I owe a lot to you. You have changed me for the better in more ways than I count. And I deeply believe that with you by my side I have a pretty awesome shot at perfection. 😉
People say that behind every successful man there’s a woman. People are idiots. I’d rather have you by my side. :*
Good Death or Endless Suffering?
In Greek Euthanasia means ‘Good Death’, but is it?
It is derived from the Greek word εὐθανασία meaning “good death“: εὖ, eu (well or good) + θάνατος, thanatos (death). It refers to the practice of ending a life in a manner which relieves pain and suffering. According to the House of Lords Select Committee on Medical Ethics, the precise definition of euthanasia is “a deliberate intervention undertaken with the express intention of ending a life, to relieve intractable suffering.
Much debate has been raised along the two different chains of thought; as to whether it should be considered as a “Voluntary Suicide” or “Involuntary Murder”. It is the most active area of research under Bioethics.
The first textual reference of Euthanasia is made by the historian Suetonius who described how Emperor Augustus Caesar, “dying quickly and without suffering in the arms of his wife, Livia, experienced the “Euthanasia” he had wished for”
Euthanasia basically can be classified into three main branches:
1. Voluntary Euthanasia – In this case the Euthanasia is cinducted with the consent of the patient. It is legal in Belgium, Luxemburg, Netherlands, Switzerland and the USA.
2. Non-Voluntary Euthanasia – Euthanasia conducted when the consent of the patient is not available is called Non-Voluntray Euthanasia. This basically includes the ‘Groningen Protocol’ which terms Euthanasia of Infants as legal.
3. In-Voluntary Euthanasia – Euthanasia conducted against the will of the patient. It can also be termed as homicide.
The most notable case in India where Euthanasia is being considered is the case of Aruna Shanbaug.
Aruna Shanbaug, a nurse from Haldipur, Karnataka has been in a ‘persistent vegetative state’ for the past 37 years after being sodomised by a Mumbai hospital sweeper.
On the night of 27 November 1973 he attacked her while she was changing clothes in the hospital basement. He choked her with a dog chain and sodomized her. The asphyxiation cut off oxygen supply to her brain resulting in brain stem contusion injury and cervical cord injury apart from leaving her cortically blind. The initial medical examination to verify rape as the crime found that Aruna had no vaginal bruises and her hymen was intact. She was menstruating on the day and therefore the rapist did not penetrate her. Subsequent medical reports proved that she bled for days together from the anus.
The police case was registered as a case of robbery and attempted murder on account of the concealment of anal rape by the doctors under the instructions of the Dean of KEM, the late Dr.Deshpande perhaps to avoid the social rejection which might break her impending marriage to Dr. Sundeep Sardesai.
Speechlessness following a rape can go deeper. Aruna Shanbaug’s continuing silence is not the outcome of fear or shame: she cannot speak at all. Since the assault, she has been in a vegetative state. On 24th January 2011, the Supreme Court of India responded to the plea for Euthanasia filed by Aruna’s friend journalist Pinki Virani, by setting up a medical panel to examine her. However, it turned down the mercy killing petition on 07th March, 2011. The court, in its landmark judgement, however allowed Passive Ethunasia in india.
The judges disagreed with Virani’s plea that the Shanbaug was already dead. Not feeding her any more and letting her die shall not amount to killing her. Shanbaug was in PVS, which was different from the medical state of brain dead (which is irreversible), they said.
‘Even when a person (patient) is incapable of any response, but is able to sustain respiration and circulation, he cannot be said to be dead. The mere mechanical act of breathing, thus, would enable him or her to be ‘alive’,’ said the judge. Stating that there appeared little possibility (of Shanbaug coming out of PVS), the judges said: ‘The question now is whether her life support system (which includes feeding) should be withdrawn, and at whose instance.’
What Blogging Means To Me
Quite matter of factly I started blogging just to catch attention of people, to be noticed and maybe to be even taken seriously. I never quite caught on with the phenomenon of blogging initially. I just wrote different kinds of things, poems and all and posted it. I had always fantasised about being known and renowned for my writing ability. I was a clear cut wannabe when I started out on the blogging circuit; I actually thought blogging would impress the ladies, hard luck there. I made a blog wrote some poems and forgot about it, after some time I read a blog and the spark ignited again but I had to make a new blog. And like that I was never constant with one blog. A few posts and I got bored and left. This happened over and over again. Until I struck upon the idea of the Prince of Prose blog.
I declared the blog open with a very proud and whimsical introduction. Aptly followed by a very dark poem about a beggar. It was quite a disturbing and hopeless time in my life. The 12th Board Exams had just gotten over and I was struggling with college. It suited my frame of mind and hence I made the blog. I poured all my angst into it. Sometimes creativity, sometimes thought sometimes just someone else’s Apricot. Then college began, along with the journey of fiction, I wrote two incomplete novels at 12000 words each.
I’ve missed writing in the blog for 3-4 months at a time but I’ve still stuck with it. So on the occasion of my 50th post I thank you all for sticking with my blog, my long obsessive and flowery writing and my irregularity. Thank you all, I’m very much indebted to you!
Love In An Erratic Thunderstorm
Love and Thunderstorms have a bond that spans beyond chains of time. Nothing beats sitting on the balcony in a wicker chair; listening to the clasps of thunder and the erotic patter of raindrops. The splashes made by the children jumping in the potholes and the cars swishing by. The old geezers cussing the weather gods and the young couplets holding each other close, not to let the warmth escape. The street lights flickering and casting long shadows into your room as you slowly dim the lights; letting the flickering red lights emit an elysian glow outlining your form. You slowly extend your hand and bring your loved one close to you. You hold them in a tight embrace. All worldly matters seem so distant; it appears as if you exist in a bubble.
*Tring*
The phone rings and it’s time to say goodbye. The heart never agrees but the goodbye is a compulsion. You walk down the stairs with flying kisses and a heavy heart. Suddenly the rain seems so harsh, so unfair. You stand in the rain waiting for a mode to transport your butt from the roadside to the comfort of your home. The cars swish by, splashing muddy water all over your clothes. You cuss the cars and the old geezers call you a loudmouth. You continue on your dreary path until a benediction rids you of your bother.
*Tring*
You enter your house looking exhausted and quite disheartened at the goodbye. You wish it could have half an hour more, an hour more or maybe even forever. The dispersal of thoughts from your troubled mind rid you of grief momentarily. You go stand in the balcony and listen to the rain again. You wipe your fingers and your world drenches in high notes and guitar wails.
And thus be the facets of the Storm. Many faces yet untold.
You were supposed to write me something. Yes i did.
Today the 26th of January, 2011 completes my 6th month of being in a very stable, interesting and amazing relationship with a girl I’m just too crazy about.
All the celebrations are in queue but right now I’m in a pondering state of mind. With a certain level of experience in relationships now I can’t help but wonder who actually coined the term ‘Relationship’.
In a very clichéd sense the dictionary meaning of the word turns out to be, the state of being related by kindred, affinity, or other alliance. Kindred means Kin, Affinity means Attraction and Alliance means a state of being allied to someone. My question. Is a relationship really that simple?
If someone were to offer me a million dollars to fish out of me a definition of the word ‘Relationship’ I think I would pass. I possibly couldn’t fathom the enormosity of the word. It is almost limitless. A relationship has a lot of pros and cons. It frightens me.
Were you reading all of that with utter sincerity? Oops. Fooled you. That is utter bullshit. Nothing is true beyond the first paragraph. I shall mend my ways now. I’ll write the rest of the blog sincerely. I promise. Here goes.
I had always been very curious to get into a stable relationship which had the potential to go all the way. Unfortunately I tried the same approach over and over again and it failed miserably. But that hardly matters now. When you find the right person the past seems so irrelevant. And yet you want to know everything in it. Not because you’re scared of the skeletons in the closet but rather because you fear losing the one you love. You fear someone from the past pointing a finger at you, questioning your love.
Sometimes you feel so guilty that you want to end the relationship. Not because you’ve had enough rather because you think that you’re suffocating the other person. Sometimes you’re so afraid of what the future might bring that you lay down your arms in the present.
You laugh. You cry. You caress. You cuddle. All different forms of endearment. But somehow your hearts get entwined. You subconsciously start thinking about the other person. You feel helpless. You feel restless. You want to be with them now. Just now. Oh god please!
You sometimes question yourself to see if you are worth the love that you are being showered with. There are certain faces when you see yourself as a pitiful tramp and sometimes you see yourself as a gallant king. The king is confidant but the tramp tries to push away the love. Trying to build a cocoon of self respect.
Matter of factly the things I said after the first paragraph did turn out quite right. A relationship is not child’s play. Neither does making out in parks count as a relationship. Relationships are tough my dearies. A girl or a guy simply doesn’t have what it takes to build a relationship. It’s a job for the men and women, for above all else relationships require high amounts of maturity, emotional stability and the willingness to share. A relationship is giving, taking, sharing, caring, loving, and so much more. It is all that I wrote and it is also all the stuff that I didn’t.
You just cannot define love or relationships. No way. But from the past 6 months if I have got any idea about relationships to build my own definition, it will be this.
“A relationship is not about doing the obvious. It’s about doing things that are not obvious but expected. It is about bunking lectures to meet that special person and yet getting scolded by her. It is about being late and yet telling her that you’re almost there just so that she gets mad at you but not as much as she would have been to know that you’re running late. It is about doing things for her and not letting her have even the smallest clue about it. It is about telling what’s wrong by just looking into their eyes. It is all the above and so so much more. But most importantly it is about having the most amazing, the most beautiful, the most charming, the most intelligent and the best woman by your side. But me, I’m special. Most of you just get women. I found my Lilypad!”
Lilypad!
You’re special!
You’re amazing!
You’re a necessity!
The things you do,
The things you say,
My deepest worries,
All shy away.
I think I’ve found it,
True bliss they say,
Yet when I see you,
I feel it’s far away.
A Tribute To My Grandfather!
It was only the other day that I was wondering that I hadn’t written a tribute on my blog. Both ironically and sadly it was somehow intended to be my grandfather.
On the 8th of August 1928, my grandfather Mr. Paresh Chandra Misra was born into one of the wealthiest zamindar families of Bengal in undivided India. I do not know much about his childhood or youth but from what I have heard he played an active part in the struggle for Indian Independence following the leftist communist ideology. He was an avid follower of Jyoti Basu, one of the most famous politicians and leaders in India.
He later joined the FPI and settled down in a job. He became the deputy director and was shifted to the ministry of Food. He was a man of such strong will that he used to walk 10 kilometers home every day from Fresco Street to Raja Basanta Roy Road. I don’t know much more about him in the days before I was born so I shall go ahead to what I remember.
I was the first child in my generation in my immediate family. And 3rd if the extended family was considered. So needless to say I was pampered beyond my wildest dreams. No would could scold me, no one could hit me but if they did it always Dadai (my grandfather) who took my side and scolded the person who took my case.
I was the only kid who had the guts to go into his room and play around with the antiquities hanging on the walls. The others were just too scared of him. Even most of my relatives; and I’m talking about my grandma’s brothers the youngest of whom is 56 now; called him Tiger which aptly suited his persona. My dad still remembers how the entire road on which our house stands used to empty as soon as he was seen on the corner.
My Ammi(grandmother) told me how Dadai single handedly provided the financials required to marry off her sibling. He was a man for whom respect came naturally. So strict and disciplined and yet such a noble man.
When I first joined South Point I used to go to school in the morning by a van and Dadai always used to bring me back home. It used to be an adventure every day, crossing the busy roads of Gariahat, getting on a tram in the middle of the road and then walking from Deshapriya Park to my house. I used to have lunch and then sit in his room while he smoked his Cheroot. He never said much but I always saw his eyes follow me around the room, a playful smile in his eyes as if he wanted to join my play.
One day while returning from school, I jumped onto the steps of the tram. A 3 inch long piece of iron went into my knee. Dadai tried everything but my pain wouldn’t lessen, he even tried closing the wound with his finger but it just pained more. As soon as I got down from the tram he picked me up and carried me home 3 kilometers. That ended our little adventures, he was termed as too old for the duty of bringing me back from school. But I wasn’t ready to give it up. I pleaded and pleaded but to no avail. I was put on the school bus. That somehow increased the distance between us.
A month or so later Mom got transferred to Delhi and I moved to. Now I could only see him only for some days in a year. But he had grown old and kept sick most of the times. I remember fighting him for TV time and my mom scolding me. Then I saw my brother fighting with him for TV time and quite naturally it was me who scolded him. Then came the time when he himself let go of the TV and wanted us to watch. He kept growing weaker day by day and yet every time I talked to him, whether face to face or on phone, he always said ‘God bless you my child!’ He loved his grandchildren like crazy and nothing we did ever could be wrong.
He was very fond of Fish Fry and Sandesh and he always wanted to be amidst lots of people. He loved having people around. Yet his luck was such that his entire kin lived far away from him.
Last time I came to Kolkata in October, I could not give him my full attention as something was ailing my mind. Yet I tried to spend as much time with him as was possible. I held him up, made him sit, something he hadn’t been able to do for months. Seeing his son, daughter, daughter-in-law and his two grandsons gave him the strength and will. He wanted to live beyond a 100.
I met him before I was leaving for the airport. He had tears in his eyes and yet a smile on his lips. He looked at me and said ‘I wish you luck in all your endeavors. I know you’ll make me proud. Best of luck my child.’ He touched my cheek and looked out of the window, he was too proud a man to let me see him cry. And he didn’t see the tears in my eyes either. I got up and left, not knowing that I would never see him again.
He breathed his last on the 19th of January, 2011 at 12:45 pm. He was 83. All the organs had failed and he was suffering from severe septicemia. It was Dad who called to let me know. His voice was shaky. I along with my mom, brother and aunt took the 7:45 flight to Kolkata. The proceedings in Kolkata were waiting for us. We received the body of my grandfather. And there on his face was such a blissful look, like he had attained peace and no one had to worry about him anymore. I brought my brother to see him one last time. He was silent. He didn’t cry but he was silent. I put my arm around him and asked ‘You know what happened, right?’ He calmly replied that he had.’
Then we headed to the crematorium while my brother went home. He quietly asked mom ‘Where have they taken Dadai? To heaven?’
Mom replied ‘Yes!’
With a smile on his face he turned back to watch TV. I guess that’s how life goes on. And we need to learn that from him.
Rest In Peace Dadai. All is good here down below. We are all happy that your suffering ended. May your blessings be with us forever. We all love you.
I LOVE YOU.
Thank You Mam!
Being brought up with 5 girl cousins and many more aunts who are just a few years older than you; takes quite a toll on a guy. I mean, he could basically start getting along with and understanding women. He could potentially be the biggest threat to feminism or even possibly the biggest womanizer ever.
The kid was me and I guess I am not at either of the extremes. Now you would ask why I even mentioned the first line of the post if it did have no effect on me. But it did. Maybe just not so much. I am not Mel Gibson from What Women Want and neither am I Barney Stinson. I just had the uncanny ability to get insights into a woman’s mind which was considered impregnable and quite hostile, the mind that is, not the insights. Turned out it was a very nice place. But there was a pre-requisite to that; a woman should be able to trust you.
I spent endless hours listening to women pour out their hearts to me and it started from a very young age. It was nice to hear them talk, to build upon the trust. I had no ulterior motives never did.
Oh! Wait! I think I did once. But hey, it never worked out. That was the fallacy. Most girls would be pretty pissed by now.
How dare a guy say that he understands girls so much? Who does he think he is?
Well girls, for one you are gravely mistaken! I have no clue what a girl thinks! But I sure do have some idea about what a woman does!
I wanted to write this a thank you note! To the few ‘Women’ that I have or will encounter in my life someday! The girls just don’t matter! All I can say to you is ‘Grow Up!’ because it’s as they say both Wine and Women grow better with age.
Thank you Mom for giving birth to me! You are possibly the woman I’m the most indebted to! From waking me up every morning to that goodnight kiss on my forehead, you did it all and most perfectly! If I ever want a woman to be absolutely perfect then it’s your fault. You sky-rocketed my expectations. Love you mom!
Papa! Though you are my Aunt! But you’re almost like another mother to me! But maybe cooler! You were understanding throughout and always a very good friend! You help me through every up and down of life! If I ever start depending on a woman instead of it being the other way round then it’s your fault!
The countless teachers who have taught me valuable lessons in life! If I expect a woman to be always there for me and to always guide me through then it’s your fault!!
And finally the woman I will marry someday! You will be a unique woman a perfect mix of everything but quite unlike any of the women mentioned above. You have to be all of them and yet be yourself too. Yours is the toughest job of them all. And if I start thinking of you as the best thing that has ever happened to me, then it’s your fault!
Respect Women! No guy would be anywhere without them!
And to quote one of my favourite teacher’s – “A woman will always be the CEO of a man’s life!” And somehow I do not seek to let that be any different in my case.
So.
Thank you Mam.
The Pleasure Of Pain
We walk in endless pathways of silent existence, swim in depthless waters of merciless tears, yes, we often desire to feel pain, to get hurt. We feel happy, we feel hurt. The want to express never goes away. Do we ever feel silence?
The mind plays many games with us. It deceives first; then acts as a friend. And all we do is revel in the hurt and call it our own brilliance. But then when you come to think of it, (Well not you, only I do that) does pain act on its own accord or do we force it on ourselves, like a torn condom?
According to the psychological definition, Pain is defined as an unpleasant sensory and emotional experience associated with actual or potential tissue damage, or described in terms of such damage. People often keep saying that alcohol helps in easing pain, hell since when did alcohol start repairing damaged tissues? It just breaks some more vital ones.
But my post is not about alcoholism. No. It is about the need to feel hurt sometimes. I’ve started believe that pain is something we believe in. Something that we need to revisit once in a while to set things back in motion. Why else would we keep pushing at things till they hurt us?
Sometimes we purposely spoil things or get into arguments that we know would hurt us. And then we sit back and revel in the pleasure of things and look back with a new perspective. We act as if the world has turned against us, we look out windows with anger, and we carry a fire in our eyes. But there’s always a string that roots us to the ground, which brings us back to reality. We keep a check on ourselves, not to improve upon pain, which is the right thing, but rather to antagonize ourselves even more.
In generic human behaviour when we are pissed at someone else, we try as hard as possible to make the other person pissed off too, thus beckoning a round of physical violence. Violence never solved anything, but as for pain, I cannot truly say. It has its benefits.
What then about people with CIP (Congenital Intolerance to Pain)? Don’t they get hurt by anything? Are they always smiling? Laughing? Cheery? I’ll tell you when I meet someone like that. Till then adios.
Food, Adventure, Worship, Love – Chandni Chowk
Food, Silver, Love, Worship, Moonlight all have a common synonym, Chandni Chowk. Translated to English it means Moonlit Lane. Whether it’s your first time or hundredth, Chandni Chowk will always leave you in awe. The crowd, the traffic, the rickshaws travelling at breakneck speeds almost over your head, the intoxicating amalgam of smells good and bad, that is indeed the true essence of Chandni Chowk.
Chandni Chowk is the most major street in the walled city of Old Delhi, which was originally called Shahjahanabad. The walled city, which includes the Lal Qila or Red Fort of Delhi, was established in 1650 AD by the Mughal Emperor Shah Jahan. It was designed by his daughter Jahanara Begum Sahib, who also made significant contributions in the landscaping of her father’s new capital.
Chandni Chowk runs through the middle of the walled city, from the Lahori Darwaza (Lahore Gate) of the Red Fort to Fatehpuri Masjid. Originally, a canal ran through the middle of the street as a part of the water supply scheme. It was initially divided into three sections:
- Lahori Darwaza to Chowk Kotwali (near Gurdwara Shish Ganj): This section closest to the imperial residence, was called Urdu Bazar, i.e., the encampment market. The language Urdu got its name from this encampment. Ghalib noted the destruction of this market during the disturbances of the Indian Rebellion of 1857 and its aftermath.
- Chowk Kotwali to Chandni Chowk: The term Chandni Chowk originally referred to the square that initially had a reflecting pool. It was replaced by a clock-tower (Ghantaghar) that was damaged and demolished in the 1960s. This section was originally called Johri Bazar.
- ‘Chandni Chowk’ to Fatehpuri Masjid: This was called the Fatehpuri Bazar.
Chandni Chowk is easily accessible via Car, Bus, and Metro. Situated near the Old Delhi Metro station it is also very easily accessible by Rail.
We got off at the Chandni Chowk Metro Station and walked down towards Chandni Chowk heading towards Red Fort passing by Gurudwara Sis Ganj to our right. About around 150 metres we turned towards our right, heading into Dariba Kalan, the world famous silver market. We were welcomed into Dariba Kalan by the smell of the world famous jalebis of ‘Old Famous Jalebi Wala’ who has been making them at that exact place since the 1850’s. Costing Rs. 250 per Kg they are a must have when you visit this place. The address being 1795, Dariba Corner, Chandni Chowk.
As you head into Dariba Kalan, you’ll see Silver Jewellery shops on both sides; innumerable silver trinkets hang on every wall and decorate every display window. Amidst all the shiny silver a handcart stole our attention; it had a very interesting item for sale, a speciality of Chandni Chowk known as Daulat Ki Chaat. This incredible little dish seems made up almost entirely of air, as it is essentially just milk froth. They start making it at about 2 o’clock the night before, and insist that their only contribution is to churn some creamy milk and whip up its froth – the rest is the magic of the winter dew. This whipped froth of milk is set in a large brass pan, and some khoya and finely sliced pista are sprinkled on top. The entire delicate ensemble is brought to the market in the morning on a khomcha (a cane tripod), where if you ask nicely, the man will scoop out a generous portion of the froth, powder it with bhoora (unrefined sugar) and khurchan, and hand it to you in a little leaf bowl. A spoonful of it just vanishes in the mouth, and has a very sophisticated, understated sweet taste to it. Any reasonable person would demand a princely sum for such an ethereal treat. Yet in the by-lanes of Shahjahanabad, a dona of Daulat ki Chaat sets you back by exactly 10 bucks!
Heading further down Dariba Kalan we stopped at a shop selling about 50 odd kinds of Crispies, I tried a very spicy one and having liked it I bought about 250 gms of it. (They are so spicy that 2-3 leave me teary eyed.) As the Dariba Kalan road came to a T-point we took a right turn and headed towards Jama Masjid. Even though I’ve ventured into Chandni Chowk a couple of times, I never got a chance to visit the Jama Masjid. The time was enough and the company was perfect, I had no intention of leaving with this monument still undiscovered by my lens. It cost me Rs. 200 to get my camera inside which I found extremely stupid because most monuments which only charge for video cameras but in Jama Masjid, the charge for all cameras was the same.
The majestic monument was brilliantly lit by the sun peeping through an overcast sky, the diffused light and shadow lessness made it an amazing atmosphere to click portraits. I felt blessed to have my camera around and the sound of my shutter clicking felt almost like a waterfall. We exited the Masjid complex through the Meena Bazaar side; we stopped to buy some Attar and Soorma.
All the walking had left us very hungry and we decided to head to the famous Karim’s of Chandni Chowk. We exited from the Matya Mahal side of the Jama Masjid complex and headed straight down the road to Karim’s. Very sadly there was a lot of crowd outside Karim’s and we couldn’t get a place to sit, hence we had to go to a neighbouring restaurant called Al-Jawahar. We ordered Mutton Barra, Keema Naan, Palak Paneer, Chicken Ishtew and Butter Naan. The food was not par with that of Karim’s but it did serve the need, it satiated our hunger.
We headed out with renewed zest and vigour and decided to walk the entire length of Meena Bazaar. 300 yrs ago this bazaar catered to the luxury trade of the imperial household, specialized in exquisite carpets, rugs, jajams and shatranjis; takia-namads and quilts; shahtus and pashmina shawls; costumes; velvet pardahs and chiks; embroideries with zari and brocades; and a wide variety silks, woolens, velvets and taffetas which the Mughals used in their daily life; precious stones, exotic jewellery and indigenous ornaments; gold and silver utensils, fine wood and ivory work; brass and copper wares; fine arms and armaments; coloured ganjifas and indoor games; jafran (saffron), kasturi (musk) and other spices; and innumerous other stuff which could not be had even in the adjoining Chandni Chowk market, and it was privilege of the king that this rare and precious things were available only in the ‘Fort market’ for their exclusive choice. Now all that is available at this market is merely cheap junk, third class items and other oddities. Sad.
There was so much more to see but alas we were almost out of time. We had to head back home; our everyday lives were calling out to us. With heaviness in our heart we headed back home leaving behind the glory of Chandni Chowk with a promise to surely return one day.
Questions Of Self Discovery
I’ve had many chances to introspect in the recent past. I took them all by the throat but I didn’t make much out of it. I’ve seen fleeting glimpses of my childhood in my dreams. Almost as if the universe is calling out to me, telling me something. It’s difficult to listen to the Universe when the volume of other things in life is turned up so high.
Everything has fogged up once again. I’ve been trying to find my strengths for the longest time, yet something or the other just slips by. I have no clue where I am and even more confused about where I am headed. Is life this difficult for everybody? I have seen people with predefined careers, heck even a predetermined life. I have seen people jot down their life in a graphic timeline on paper. I was just left in awe. If someone were to ask me to do that. I’ll merely doodle a lot of question marks on that sheet of paper. People always keep saying Life is like a game of Chess. Damn. Suddenly I remember all those chess matches I lost. I was never any good at it. The future just keeps eluding me.
Your future keeps clawing at your head and feet. Asking you to take the prescribed path. Prescribed not by you but by others who have seen life and don’t want you to make the same mistakes they did. But what is life if not a scrapbook of mistakes, regrets and lessons learnt? I bet the misdoings and grievances tally higher than the happy occasions in anybody’s life. Do you, Can you always be guided by your conscience or rather the moral voice in your head? Which, I daresay is nothing but a collection of the years of unnecessary advice that is shoved down our throats.
Since I’m almost incapable of summing up what I’m good at, I’ll merely take a dig at seeing what all I am absolutely horrible at. I do not mean talents, hobbies or even sports. But feelings, emotions and decisions. I am going to discuss the things that I think may be wrong with me.
I am known to make the stupidest of decisions. Countless people give me oodles of advice regarding Dil, Dosti, etc. I ask for even more. But at last, in the fag end I do what instinct tells me to. I don’t care if it’s right, wrong or even morally sound. I believe in listening to my heart. I feel that it’s better to cope up with a mistake than regret not having listened to your heart. As far as I think, Regret is the worst thing to have in your life.
I’m overtly emotional about the smallest of things. The minutest of things leave a deep impact on my mind. I simply don’t have the heart to see sorrow around me. It pains me to see others cry. I try to help others with everything that I possibly can. But mostly people take it in the wrong way. Some think that I’m being over clingy while others just ask me to shove off. And this has happened so many times that I’m now afraid of actually caring about someone. Even if I feel bad about someone and even though my heart tells me to go talk to them, help them, I try to keep my distance. I try to keep my bubble from being burst by others.
I’ve always been the first one to gel with new faces around but I’m never able to change that into sound friendship. Somehow in all these years I’ve made many wonderful acquaintances but rarely have I made very good friends. I know I’m bad at keeping in touch, I know I get diverted to other things very easily. But why must it be always my duty to work things out. I’ve tried and failed, once and again, rather too many times. I’m just too afraid to try again and lose all hope that these people who I call(ed) friends never bothered much about me.
I’m known to be majorly confused about what I want to do in life. When I was small I wanted to be a fighter pilot, I grew up slight and wanted to be a research scholar, I again grew up, now wanting to be a pianist. The list kept growing and growing. I tried new things, I liked them, I found out that I’m good at them and I kept doing them. People say that I’m too confused. Dad says that too many abilities spoil a man. Proverbs say that one can only be a ‘Jack of all trades but master of none’. But why? Why can’t someone desire to excel in more than one field? Is it others feel threatened? Or is it really that important to stick to the status quo? I shall never know.
Photography was finally able to define my moment of existence, my need to hold on to the past, my chance to revel in the beauties of nature, my desire to be cherished. The nostalgia, the science it all fascinated me and for a change something was able to take ME by the throat. I’ve decided to take the toughest decision in my life. I’ve decided not to let my life direct my photography but rather I’ll let photography direct my life.
I have the most wonderful people by my side right now. People who understand me. People who see through my charades of happiness and tell me on my face that I’m wrong. The fake care and belonging is gone. I have finally found friends who appreciate me, believe in me and I’m sure they will stand by me too.
Ishan, those battles of wits, those unnaturally humorous comments. They make life so much better.
Arpit, the more confused you get, the more I get a chance of actually pointing out what’s wrong and actually being able to care and help someone after a long time.
Abhinav, those Milds and Golds are bad but they open up my mind, 2c and 3 would be boring without you.
Vanya, my soul sister, our wavelengths match at every point, the love for nature, the inability to tolerate fake people, the guts to carry on. And so much more. Heck, our dads even had the talk. Thanks sis for unknotting my mind. I don’t think anybody else could have.
Jeeshan, for being the first person in Amity who I could talk to, for the Cool Blues and the car rides. For finally mustering up the courage to let me drive your car.
Devesh, for being a privy to our talks, for constant entertainment, its fun to take your case. 😀
Sargam, for clearing some long withstanding doubts in my head, for doing the stuff I can only dream of, for blazing a new path and showing me that is possible, for sharing the inner turmoil of the mind. The talks, the frequent conversations, the infrequent exchange of ideas, the exchange of dreams and the love of photography.
Lilypad, for changing me for the better, for making me able to see myself in a better light, for having faith in me when I had none, for supporting my craziness, for putting up with my whimsies and mad desires. I know it’s too soon to say but yes, you are like a pivot in my life. I can hold onto you and let go of everything else, I can be free. You almost taught me to be free; you are more than a friend, more than a lover and so much more than an angel in my life. You make me want to be better than myself; you make me want to improve. You bring out the best in me.
But still many questions remain. Questions that have come to stay for longer than what I’ll be comfortable with. I have everything a person could dream of yet questions are all that my life has come to be composed of.
What do I want?
What should I do?
Where do I go?
Is this wrong?
Is that right?
Is Insanity a trait of normal human existence? Or is it just my bane?
Answers anyone?
What about the Diaries?
Time passes on, our entire life changes. Things become interesting, sometimes they go wrong. Fluctuations, change, flim flams that’s what life is about. You ignore everything and go on.
Then comes a holiday and while you’re cleaning your room you come across a diary. You clean the dust off the cover, revealing the sheen of its leather bound glory. You see the year of the print and realize that its time is long gone.
Yet as if drawn by an invisible force you flip through the pages. Dates fly by, memories boomerang back to your head and suddenly you stop on a rather unpleasant entry even in the stretched out time line. It’s a puny little incident but it comes to haunt you.
You feel disgusted by the horrible person that stares at you from the pages of the diary. The meek words that you once so easily said disgust you now. You realise how your life changed with time and incidents.
All the resolutions, the promises and little crushes poke at you through the diary. They remind you how much of a loser you are. How much you have not accomplished. How much you had wished. And if by chance you’re one of those people who make lists, you find several incomplete. And suddenly you find a chink in your perfect suit of armour. Something about your present has suddenly vanished. Your sense of self esteem is no longer pleased.
You wish to go back to that date in the diary. Change things. But then you’re reminded of the good things in the present. And then the darkest of the questions stare at you, its snake like eyes haunting you. What would you have done? Looked away? So easily? Is it so easy to ignore the question?
Would you have lived your life differently if you then knew that this would be your present?
God Of Off-Side
Early Days
Sourav Chandidas Ganguly is certainly a name to be reckoned with in the field of Cricket. Born on 8th July 1972, Sourav was the son of Chandidas Ganguly, one of the richest men in the city of Kolkata. He was enrolled in a cricket coaching camp despite the dislike of his mother. As a boy he deeply admired David Gower, one of the most stylish left-handed batsmen of his era. Sourav despite right handed learnt to bat left handed so that he could use his brother’s equipment. He made his first class debut for Bengal in 1989, the same year Snehasish was dropped from the team.
Following a prolific Ranji season in 1990-91, He scored 3 runs in his ODI Debut against West Indies in 1992. He was removed from the team for being arrogant, and it was even rumoured that he refused to carry drinks for his teammates.
Debut Success
Due to his heavy scoring in the 93-94 and 94-95 Ranji Trophy and his 171 in the 1995-96 Duleep Trophy he was recalled into the team. He played a single ODI but was omitted from the first test. After Navjot Singh Sidhu left the tour citing ill treatment by Capt. Mohammad Azharuddin, Ganguly made his test debut against England in the 2nd test. He scored a century thus becoming only the third person to do so on their debut at Lord’s. He made another century in the 3rd test thus becoming the third person to score 2 centuries in each of his first two innings.
Weeks after his successful tour of England , Ganguly eloped with his childhood sweetheart Dona Roy due to bitter enmity between the families of the bride and the groom and this caused an uproar. However both families reconciled and a formal wedding was held in February 1997.
Same year, Ganguly scored his maiden ODI century by hitting 113. Later that year, he won four consecutive man of the match awards, in the Sahara Cup with Pakistan; the second of these was won after he took five wickets for 16 runs off 10 overs, his best bowling in an ODI. After a barren run in Test cricket his form returned at the end of the year with three centuries in four Tests all against Sri Lanka two of these involved stands with Sachin Tendulkar of over 250.
World Cup Of ’99
Ganguly was part of the Indian team that competed in the 1999 Cricket World Cup in England. During the match against Sri Lanka at Taunton, Ganguly scored 183 from 158 balls, and hit 17 fours and seven sixes. It became the second highest score in World Cup history and the highest by an Indian in the tournament. His partnership of 318 with Rahul Dravid is the highest overall score in a World Cup and is the second highest in all ODI cricket. Around the same time, allegations came that Ganguly was romantically involved with South Indian actress Nagma, something he denied.
Holding The Reigns Of The Indian Team
In 2000, after the match fixing scandal by some of the players of the team, Ganguly was named the Captain of the Indian cricket team. The decision was spurred due to Tendulkar stepping down from the position for his health, and Ganguly being the vice-captain at that time. He began well as a captain, leading India to a series win over South Africa in the five-match one day series and led the Indian team to the finals of the 2000 ICC KnockOut Trophy.
In Australia’s three Test and five match ODI tour of India in early 2001, Ganguly caused controversy by arriving late for the toss on four occasions, something that agitated opposing captain Steve Waugh. In the Fourth ODI, he caused further controversy by failing to wear his playing attire to the toss, something considered unusual in cricket circles. However, India won the Test series 2–1, ending Australia’s run of 16 consecutive Test match victories in the Second Test. The match saw India looking set for defeat after conceding a first innings lead of 274. Waugh chose to enforce the follow-on and V. V. S. Laxman (281) and Rahul Dravid (180) batted for the entire fourth day’s play to set Australia a target of 384 on a dusty, spinning wicket. The Australians were unable to survive and became only the third team to lose a Test after enforcing the follow-on. In November 2001, Ganguly’s wife Dona gave birth to their daughter Sana Ganguly.
During the final match of the 2002 Natwest Trophy held in Lords after a stunning performance by team mates Yuvraj Singh and Mohammad Kaif, Ganguly took off his shirt in public and brandished it in the air to celebrate India’s winning of the match. He was later strongly condemned for tarnishing the “gentleman’s game” image of cricket and disrespecting Lords protocol. Ganguly said that he was only mimicking an act performed by the British all-rounder Andrew Flintoff during a tour of India. In 2003, India reached the World Cup Final for the first time since 1983, where they lost to the Australians. Ganguly had a successful tournament personally, scoring 465 runs at an average of 58.12, including three centuries.
By 2004, he had achieved significant success as captain and was deemed as India’s most successful cricket captain by sections of the media. However, his individual performance deteriorated during his captaincy reign, especially after the World Cup, the tour of Australia in 2003 and the Pakistan series in 2004. In 2004, Australia won a Test series in India for the first time since 1969. It was speculated that Ganguly was in disagreement with the head of cricket in Nagpur over the type of pitch to be used for the Third Test. The groundsmen went against Ganguly, leaving a large amount of grass on the pitch. Some experts indicated that the reason for this was for “spite or revenge” against the Indian captain.
Following indifferent form in 2004 and poor form in 2005, he was dropped from the team in October 2005 and the captaincy was passed to Dravid, his former deputy. Ganguly decided against retiring and attempted to make a comeback to the team. Ganguly was awarded the Padma Shri in 2004, one of India’s highest awards. He was presented with the award on June 30, 2004, by then President of India, Dr. A. P. J. Abdul Kalam.
Chappel Era
In September 2005, Greg Chappell became the coach for the India tour of Zimbabwe. Ganguly’s dispute with him resulted in many headlines. Chappell had emailed the Board of Control for Cricket in India, stating that Ganguly was “physically and mentally” unfit to lead India and that his “divide and rule” behaviour was damaging the team. This email was leaked to the media and resulted in huge backlash from Ganguly’s fans. Ganguly had enlisted the support from the Indian media and eventually the board had to intervene and order a truce between the pair. Consequently, due to his poor form and differences with the coach, Ganguly was dropped as the captain of the team, with Dravid taking his place.
Following India’s poor batting display in the 2006 ICC Champions Trophy and the ODI series in South Africa, in which they were whitewashed 4-0, Ganguly made his comeback to the Test team. Wasim Jaffer, Zaheer Khan and Anil Kumble had earlier been selected for the one-day squad, despite their recent poor performances. Many saw this as an indictment of coach Greg Chappell’s youth-first policy. Coming in at 37/4, Ganguly scored 83 in a tour match against the rest of South Africa, modifying his original batting style and taking a middle-stump guard, resulting in India winning the match. During his first Test innings since his comeback, against South Africa in Jo’burg his score of 51 helped India to victory, marking the first Test match win for the team in South Africa. Though India lost the series, Ganguly accumulated the most runs on the scoring chart. After his successful Test comeback he was recalled for the ODI team, as India played host to West Indies and Sri Lanka in back to back ODI tournaments. In his first ODI innings in almost two years, he scored a matchwinning 98. He performed well in both series, averaging almost 70 and won the Man of the Series Award against Sri Lanka.
The Rebirth
On 12 December 2007, Ganguly scored his maiden double century of his career while playing against Pakistan. He scored 239 runs in the first innings of the third and final Test match of the series. He was involved in a 300 run partnership for the fifth wicket with Yuvraj Singh. Ganguly remained prolific in both Test and ODI cricket in the year 2007. He scored 1106 Test runs at an average of 61.44 (with three centuries and four fifties) in 2007 to become the second highest run-scorer in Test matches of that year after Jacques Kallis. He was also the fifth highest run-scorer in 2007 in ODIs, where he scored 1240 runs at an average of 44.28.
In February 2008, Ganguly joined as the captain of Kolkata Knight Riders (KKR) team, owned by Bollywood actor Shahrukh Khan. On 18 April 2008, Ganguly led the KKR, in the IPL Twenty20 cricket match. They had a 140 run victory over Bangalore Royal Challengers captained by Rahul Dravid and owned by Vijay Mallya. Ganguly opened the innings with Brendan McCullum and scored 10 runs while McCullum remained unbeaten, scoring 158 runs in 73 balls. On 1 May, in a game between the Knight Riders and the Rajasthan Royals, Ganguly made his second T20 half century, scoring 51 runs off of 39 balls at a strike rate of 130.76. In his innings, Ganguly hit four 4s and two sixes, topping the scorers list for the Knight Riders.
In October 2008, Ganguly announced that the Test series against Australia starting in October 2008 would be his last and stated “To be honest, I didn’t expect to be picked for this series. Before coming here, [at the conference] I spoke to my team-mates and hopefully I will go out with a winning knock.” Ganguly played in every game of the four-Test series and amassed 324 runs at an average of 54.00. While playing the second Test match of the series in Mohali, Ganguly scored his final test century. In the Fourth and final Test, with India needing one wicket to secure a victory, the Indian captain, Mahendra Singh Dhoni, invited Ganguly to lead the side in the field for the final time. India regained the Border-Gavaskar Trophy, winning the series 2–0.
In May 2009, Ganguly was removed from the captaincy of the KKR for IPL 2009, and was replaced by McCullum. The decision was questioned by media and other players of the team, when KKR finished at the bottom of the ranking table with three wins and ten losses. He played for the Ranji cup in the Bengal team in October 2009. Ganguly scored 110 in the match against Delhi team, and was involved in a partnership of 222 runs with Wriddhiman Saha. In the third season of Indian Premier League, Ganguly was once again given the captaincy of Kolkata Knight Riders, after the team ended at the bottom in season 2. The coach John Buchanan was also replaced by new coach Dav Whatmore.
Legacy
Statistics about Ganguly show that he was the seventh Indian cricketer to have played 100 Test matches, the 4th highest overall run scorer for India in Tests, and the fourth Indian to have played in more than 300 ODIs. In terms of overall runs scored in ODIs, Ganguly is the second among Indians after Sachin Tendulkar (who has the most ODI runs) and the fifth overall. He has scored 16 centuries in Test matches and 22 in ODIs. He is also one of only eight batsmen to score more than 10,000 runs in ODIs. Along with Tendulkar, Ganguly has formed the most successful opening pair in One Day Cricket, having amassed the highest number of century partnerships (26) for the first wicket. Together, they have scored more than 7000 runs at an average of 48.98, and hold the world record for creating most number of 50-run partnership in the first wicket (44 fifties). Ganguly became the fourth player to cross 11,000 ODI runs, and was the fastest player to do so in ODI cricket, after Tendulkar. As of 2006, he is the only Indian captain to win a Test series in Pakistan (although two of the three Tests of that series was led by Rahul Dravid). He is also one of the three players in the world to achieve amazing treble of 10,000 runs, 100 wickets and 100 catches in ODI cricket history, the others being Tendulkar and Sanath Jayasuriya.
Prince Of Prose 