Freedom in Captivity

On 15th August 2010, India celebrated 63 years of freedom. This freedom had not come to us as a gift; we had to pay a huge price for it. It came to us at the cost of our brave freedom fighters who happily sacrificed their lives and at the cost of thousands of families, torn asunder by the ravages of Partition. Every year, for the past 63 years, we have hoisted our national flag and paid homage, not only to our motherland but also to all those martyred souls. Yet there remains a nagging doubt: are we really free?

Yes we are free from oppression, free of foreign rulers who had enslaved us for too long. But that is not enough anymore. Our forefathers had a vision, a vision of an advanced, developed India, shining in all its glory. The India of that vision and that of our reality have nothing in common. A new revolution is needed, with integrity, conviction and passion, not bullets and bombs, as our only arms.

India needs freedom from all the ills plaguing her. How long do we open the newspaper to read about women being molested, infant girls being aborted or killed just because of their gender and lovers being murdered in cold blood in the name of caste and honor? All through our school lives we have read about India's 'unity in diversity' but in reality, where is this unity? We are divided by religion, caste and gender and we are still oppressed. Only this time the oppressors are not outsiders but our own.

We need to free ourselves from the shackles of corruption and blind beliefs. We need freedom from having to choose the best of the worst when it comes to choosing the leaders of our country. We need freedom from the scams and scandals that erupt regularly and shame our motherland in front of the world. We need the freedom from terrorism in the name of religion or territory.

For me, India will be truly free the day when the common man will not think twice before approaching the authorities for help. I will feel free that one day when I can read the newspaper and not come across a single item of rape or murder in the name of religion, caste, honor, revenge, greed or depravity. We will celebrate our freedom the day we can walk out from our homes without fearing bomb blasts or communal riots.  India will be truly shining when the sportsmen who make us proud can attribute their successes to the facilities available in India, even when the sport is not cricket. There is no dearth of talent in this country, yet our progress is blocked by nothing but deep rooted corruption. It is up to us, the children of India, to clean out these murky waters once and for all. We have remained a developing nation for 63 long years; now it's time to fight our way out of captivity once again.

Unleashing the 'Roar'k

After a long time I reread 'The Fountainhead' by Ayn Rand. The last time I had read it was probably when I was just out of college. Back then I had liked the book but had not understood its true vision. I was revelling in my self proclaimed successes - a degree from a very reputed college and a good job, both obtained on my own merits. The world lay open for exploration and to my youthful mind the possibilities were endless. For an immature girl, this was a matter of overwhelming pride. What does a college graduate understand of job pressures, recession, stagnation, lack of growth and the like? I had wanted to be a software engineer; that had been my dream and I was living it.

Now 5 years down the line my vision of the world, and indeed myself, has changed. Gone are the rose tinted glasses, replaced by a sense of cynicism which is, fortunately, still at its nascent stages. I have learnt to be thankful for a steady job at a time when people were committing suicide because of unemployment. I have understood how lucky I am that I am not one of those thousands of people whose lives were randomly cut short by some terrorist or even one of those who had to live to bear such grievous losses. Every breath that I take is a dedication to this life that I have been granted. Reading this book however brought a question to my mind, am I cherishing this supreme gift that I have been given?

This book introduces us to Howard Roark and Dominique Francon, possibly the best characterizations to have graced the pages of fiction. A man, fiercely individualistic and independant, preferring a life of squalor to letting go of his dreams and vision, and a woman, just as individualistic, who, in desperation, tries to shackle herself to the foggy conventions of society but ultimately finds the way to give flight to her dreams. But let me come to the point, after all I am not reviewing the book. Its just that these two characters, particularly Roark, left me wondering if man still has that courage, that temerity to hold onto his dreams in spite of being harangued by society for his unconvetional thinking.

No doubt history has seen such free spirited men and women who have refused to conform, who have lived life on their own terms. Most of them had faced ridicules, threats and even assaults in their lifetime; many spent a lifetime like this and died ignobly but they left behind a legacy that few could emulate and none could forget. Eccentric, lunatic, dangerous were some of the epithets bestowed on them but did they care? If they did then the world probably would not have known the likes of Einstein, Leonardo da Vinci, Galileo, Rabindranath Tagore, Rani Laxmibai or more recently, Michael Jackson.

The list can go on but the question is, why is it dwindling? I am sure there are many who have followed their heart instead of taking the safer routes of life but I point this finger at myself, not at others. I like my job and I am reasonably good at it. When I am working, it gets my undivided attention. But am I passionate about it? No, my passion lies elsewhere but I cling to the security that my current work gives me. I am successful here, what if I cannot gain success at my chosen field; a question which stops me from plunging headlong into new territories. Yet small voice says somewhere deep within, how will you know if you don't try? Many of us bow down to pressure, pressure from a well meaning family who wants to see their child doing well for himself or pressure from peers where a big car or house becomes the measure of your success. But like Farhan in 3 Idiots, can we get the conviction to withstand these pressures and say that this is what I want and the rest doesn't matter? Can we become the Howard Roarks of our times? Maybe, just maybe, we can . . .

Breaking news!!

It started with Shoania and has moved onto IPL. In a year which saw and is still to see a number of much anticipated sporting events, India has been in the news for all kinds of 'unsporting' reasons. the brouhaha over the arrangements for the Commonwealth Games not yet being complete has been sidelined by the games that adults play.

Sample for example the Shoaib - Sania - Ayesha / Maha affair. Confused? So are we. It started with Indian tennis sensation Sania Mirza breaking off her engagement with her childhood friend. An uncharitable person may ask if she is a tennis sensation or a media sensation who plays tennis occasionally (and loses quite a lot!)but thats another story. While the media lamented the heartbreak of the nation's heartthrob, quite another match was being played in the background. And lo! in two months it appeared that things were love all for Ms. Mirza when she found her Mr. Right across the border - Pakistan's cricket's eligible bachelor Shoaib Malik, The same uncharitable fellow from before may have a question or two about his eligibility, given his colorful past and somewhat dubious cricketing future. But love conquers all. A grand wedding was promised when all hell broke loose. Shoaib was accused of being married to one Ayesha, over the phone, and then dumping her because of her obesity. What followed were denials from the would-be groom, coupled with counter accusations that the lady in question had tricked him by keeping him in the dark about her actual looks. The news channel went into a frenzy, showing the wronged man and his devoted fiancée braving the allegations together. The daily breaking news items were enough t o make the average man feel like breaking his TV set. Ayesha claimed to have proof, including her semen stained wedding dress from the night of consummating the purported marriage way back in 2002. Finally Shoaib blinked and a deal was struck - a divorce and supposedly a huge amount of money in exchange of peace. Don't know about the happy couple but we Indians sure breathed a sigh of relief as the curtain came down on the Shoania affair culminating in their marriage.

By this time a new scandal erupted, this time with the Indian Premier League (IPL). When the announcement came that two new teams would be a part of IPL from the next season, nobody could have guessed what the coming days would bring. As ten teams were battling it out on the cricketing pitch, murky deals were being made in the background. Politician Shashi Tharoor and IPL chairman Lalit Modi had a tweet war on the ownership and stake in the Kochi team with the latter accusing the former of corruption. The mud slinging caught the eye of the Government and the Opposition leading to hue and cry and the ultimate resignation of Mr. Tharoor from his Cabinet post. Yet the drama was not over. Lalit Modi was also given the same ultimatum as Tharoor as his alleged shady dealings came under the Income Tax scanner - go willingly or be forced out. As of now Modi is fighting back, refuting all claims, even as the I-T department is investigating all the involved franchisees. In a country where millions of people live below the poverty level, the amount of money that is being garnered through IPL is staggerring. One wonders where will this end. Modi might go or stay, Tharoor might be right or wrong, but who suffers? Its the common man, both the one who pays his taxes honestly and the one who barely has any income. Breaking news will come and go but the real issues remain hidden under murky waters.

Jumping Onto The Bandwagon

At first there was only Chetan Bhagat. Now a trend has started and we are hearing of new writers coming out of the woodwork. Penguin India has brought out the Metro Reads series and Rediff is carrying interviews of the authors and excerpts from their books. Nearly all of them have common responses regarding how they always wanted to write and how they took up full time jobs but remained a writer at heart.

Don't get me wrong; I really admire these guys and girls. They wanted to do something and they achieved it. I am also one of them and I also dream of being a published author. Reading about them gives me the encouragement to chase after my dreams. That's not what this blog post is about though. What attracted my attention was this sudden spurt of amateur authors. In one of the Rediff interviews a reader had posted the comment that this is just because of the overwhelming popularity of Chetan Bhagat as everyone now wants to emulate him, hoping to earn fame and money.

I wonder if this statement is true. Are these aspiring authors (including me, I may add!) just dazzled by fame and popularity? Did Mr. Bhagat really start a new trend? Or are these people merely following their dreams as he did? It seems to me to be a mixture of both. Writing a book always appeared to be an uphill task, meant only for those who are poets, visionaries, philosophers all rolled into one. We read the novels by Amitav Ghosh or Anita Desai, marvelled at their literary finesse and sighed inwardly, deploring ourselves that we could never be that 'good'. Probably we just buried our secret hopes of becoming an 'author. 'Then "Five Point Someone" changed the scenario. All of a sudden we woke up to the reality that its not the deep thoughts or elaborate imagery only that sell a novel, its about how good a raconteur you are and how you can connect with your readers. That is Mr. Bhagat's USP; all his books hit a chord with his readers. Now we have new writers drawing upon their experiences of working as a software engineer or of being in love to pen down stories that have a place in this real world.

Be encouraging people, not everyone dares to reach for their dreams. A proliferation of amateur writers may lead to the danger of the same stories being rehashed over and over again. But maybe, just maybe, a rough diamond may be discovered in this wave, which, when polished, can go on to became the shining glory in India's crown. And just to tell you, I really hope that this diamond will be me!

'Un'cultured

It is official; M.F. Hussain has accepted Qatar citizenship. This, of course, comes with the loss of his Indian citizenship as dual citizenship is not allowed here. The flag bearers of 'morality' should be rejoicing at having successfully driven out a 95 year old man out of the country he called his home. As such I am not a fan of M.F. Hussain's work but it pains me to see that a world-renowned artist getting such shoddy treatment from his homeland.

We call ourselves a democratic country but when push comes to shove, democracy goes flying out of the window. We boast of freedom of speech, yet the moment we speak anything some faction or the other rises up in arms. Lyrics of songs need to be changed because of allegations of promoting caste differences, a film's title has to be changed to pacify members of a particular profession and woe betide you if you dare to refer a city by its old name. How about a reality check, people? Casteism is not a myth thought up by some Bollywood director, its rampant today even in the affluent and educated sections of society. Everyone wants their 15 minutes of fame and if they get it by protesting on some non-issue so be it.

Calling a city by its old name will create a ruckus but when that same city is held hostage by terrorists, none of the self appointed moral police will risk their skins to save their motherland. The people who did do that were not from any particular part of the country, they were soldiers who had pledged their lives to the whole of India. What satisfaction do we get out of exiling someone from his country just because he invoked his artistic license? His work can be banned but how can we ban the person himself? That too in the country where a terrorist who shot and killed innocent people in full view lives comfortably in jail with crores being spent on his security. Who are we kidding, we do not belong to any democracy. We are proud of our cultural heritage but the future holds very little hope for the budding artist or writer. With fanatics looking over your shoulder, what new masterpieces can be added to India's kitty? We will have to hold on to what has already been created because new horizons are being closed to us forever.

A Friend - No More

A young bride

Spring heralds a new start

Woe! Evil brings death!

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A chance meeting was all it took,
A shove from behind, a single look.
His apology faltered into quiet awe,
A girl so pretty he never before saw.
She stalled his words by a sweet smile
Her eyes were brown, so devoid of guile,
Her rose-petal lips, her long dark hair,
Her frame was slight and skin so fair.
He stood there dumb, fumbling to speak,
But she moved away, lost in the traffic.
A moment’s thought was all he allowed,
To find her again, in his heart he vowed.
For many days he kept a silent vigil,
With every approach, a start did he feel,
Same was the time and place of his wait,
Yet against him were the powers of Fate.
Interest waned as the week came to an end,
Other attachments grew as often they tend.
Though his heart retained a wisp of memory
Of his dream, which he could never bury.
The day came for him to settle down,
Search for a bride commenced about town.
A match was made, the date was fixed,
Joy and anxiety, his feelings were mixed.
At the reception, surrounded by one and all,
His eyes fell on a guest at the wedding hall,
It was HER, an elusive memory from his past,
He had found her, too late, but at last.