Afternoon

Its four hours after noon and I sit beside my window with a not-too-hot cup of coffee and a book marked at three and quarters from completion in front of me. I look outside the window, too lazy to lift the coffee cup to my lips or the book to my eyes, lazy even to stir my gaze. The world on the outside of the window is as immobile as on the inside. The leaves are too lazy to flutter and the birds too lazy to sing; there is not a ripple in the lake nor a sound louder than silence. The sun himself is emitting light and warmth half-heartedly, not at all eager to aggravate their intensity. I sense my mother sitting beside me; her gaze fixed on a page of a book she hasn’t turned for the past several minutes. My brother and father are in a deep slumber. I feel very safe and secure in the unconscious knowledge of the safety and comfort of my loved ones. I ask not for more, not for the leaves to blow in a breeze or the birds to chirp, just for the sun to remain where he is so I can content myself on the well-being of my loved ones in his light. I have admired the beauty of the dawn and the tranquility of the dusk but I love the constancy of the afternoon. I do not eagerly await the afternoon as I do the dawn nor does my heart become anxious on its approach as it does on the arrival of dusk but I do rest and sigh off all my worries in its warm embrace. The afternoon, the silent comforter and seldom acknowledged, just like a mother.

namma bengalooru hudugi

During my not-so-long professional life, I have met a lot of people and traveled to a lot of places. And whenever I am introduced to new people, they ask me where I am from. I am from Bangalore, I say. My answer somehow changes their perception of me. Their eyes immediately light up with knowledge. Bangalore, of course! the IT hub of India and a dream destination for all the aspiring software professionals. Bangalore - the city where all the software companies are, the call centers are, the dance bars are and the hip and happening youth are. Bangalore - the cosmopolitan city of India and myself, the cosmopolitan girl of Bangalore. They ask me of the pubs in Bangalore, if I like them better or the ones in other cities I have visited. I smile and tell them that I have never been to a pub. They can’t believe me. After some deliberation, they conclude and tell me I must then be spending my evenings and weekends in the bowling alleys in M.G.Road and Brigade Road. I tell them that I spend most of my evenings and weekends at home with my mother. They can’t believe it. A Bangalore girl is supposed to be as hip and happening as the city; she must have all the glamour and glitz that Bangalore stands for. The simple town girl who spends her free time with her mother at home can’t be a Banglorean.
Well, I have this to say - Bangalore was a small, simple town when I was growing up there. To this day, when I think of Bangalore, I visualize a calm, leisurly Sunday evening in Gandhibazaar, merrily chatting with my cousins, tagging my uncle to a “panipuri gadi”. There is hardly any traffic in Gandhibazaar so my uncle neednot be on constant lookout for our safety. My mother and her other elder cousins are busy watching the Sunday evening Kannada movie on Doordarshan. The movie is not worthy of kids and hence the panipuri bribe. On a rare Sunday evening, appa takes us all to Jayanagar 4th block to buy clothes for some approaching festival. Everytime we land there, we somehow bump into one or the other acquaintance. After exchanging pleasantries and inviting each other to each others’ homes, we move on. All the ajjis and thathas(senior citizens) are seated on the parking lot platform(the parking lot has hardly around 20 vehicles) and alternately discussing family and national politics. M.G.Road and Brigade Road are where the rich and high-society people go and where I can go one day if I studied hard and became a doctor or engineer and earned lots of money.
Bangalore is no more that simple town I grew up in. She has changed. Every time a new guest came to her, she changed herself to welcome and please him. She has been so indulged in her hospitality that she has forgotten her own children. The pizza huts, the coffee days, the bowling alleys and night clubs - she has given everything to her guests but has robbed her own children of their cubbon parks and Gandhibazaars. And somewhere in her mad pursuit to convenience her guests, she has lost her identity.
The small and quiet “town” of Bangalore has given way to the big and noisy “city” of Bangalore but I somehow couldn’t catch up. I still live in the dream that was Bangalore and remain the small town girl whose heart dances with the cool evening breeze and fluttering of leaves and not with the loud rap music of a dance bar.

Arranged Marriage

Gauri is an average middle-class girl from an average middle-class family. Right from the day she was born, she became her parents’ vision and mission. They sent her to the best schools, bought her the best clothes, inculcated the right values in her. As she grew up, she was encouraged to pursue any kind of sports or extra-curricular activities she wished to. Her parents did not mind sacrificing their pleasures so that she could live her dreams. She was nurtured and groomed to think for herself, make her own decisions and be independent. Every small academic or extra-curricular success that she achieved made her parents overwhelmed with joy. Her mother would spend hours together teaching her her subjects and indulging in all the activities Gauri wished to pursue. Her father would wake up at 5'o’clock on chill winter mornings to accompany her to her coaching classes or to jogging or to teach her to drive a two-wheeler. She thrived on the attention she got and blossomed into a really happy and confident young woman. And then suddenly one day she was 22 and life changed!
She had reached the “marriageable”age. Her parents started the “process” of finding a groom for her. They asked Gauri if she had anyone in mind already but that was just a formality. They wanted the answer to be “no” and they heard it even when she hadn’t said anything. Her parents started attending every single party they were called for and the news that she was on the “marriage market” was discreetly spread. And then, there was the first phone call:
Prospective Groom’s Father: Hullo.
Gauri: Hullo
Prospective Groom’s Father: May I speak to Gauri’s father?
Gauri: (That sounds really weird. If the person on the other end knows me, why is he not talking to me and if he knows my father, why is he addressing him as “Gauri’s father”. Who the hell is he? Neverthless, in a very pleasing voice:) Yes, please hold on for a moment.
Gauri’s Father: Hullo (a commanding, dominating voice)
Prospective Groom’s Father: I heard your daughter is out for marriage. I have a son out for marriage.
Gauri’s Father: Oh, yes sir, please sir, let us discuss it sir (in a surrendering, nervous, unsure voice).
Gauri: (Hell, who did that to my father! I have never heard him talk like that, never! He has been in command in every situation, all my life. I loathe that person whoever it is on the other end. I want to murder him.)
Prospective Groom’s Father: M y son is currently in the US. He will be coming down to India next month on a 15 day vacation. By then, we want to see some girls and filter down for him to select. So, is your girl working?
Gauri’s Father: Yes sir (in that meek voice again).
Prospective Groom’s Father: Oh ok, I hope she is not too career oriented and can balance home and work equally well.. Haha.
Gauri: (Isn’t that the funniest thing you have ever said in your life!!)
Gauri’s Father: Oh no sir, she is normal, not too career oriented.
Gauri: (Totally caught off-guard. Dad, till the previous moment you were proud of my passion for work and my success in it. What is it that you are saying? Of course, I am career oriented and no, I am not ready to sacrifice my career for some stranger’s family.)
Prospective Groom’s Father: My son wants a girl who is fair complexioned, slim and around 5feet4inches tall.
Gauri’s Father: Oh yes, yes, yes, she is.
Prospective Groom’s Father: My son is well-built... hahaha, you know what I mean... good food, US and all that...
Gauri: (No, I don’t know what you mean. Well-built means tall, muscular and strong. Isn’t that what you mean or is there any other interpretation for it?)
Gauri’s Father: Yeah, hahaha.. (a nervous laugh)
Gauri: (Dad, I don’t think you know what he meant either.)
Prospective Groom’s Father: My son just bought a flat in Bangalore and you know how expensive that is now-a-days. Anyways, once he gets married, he and his wife will work it out.... hahahaha.
Gauri: (Good but why are you telling it to us?)
Gauri’s Father: Oh yes, I am not dependent on my daughter’s money. Its all hers.
Gauri: (Dad, but I thought we could own a house now. After living in rented houses all our lives, me and you could pool in money and buy that dream house amma always wanted. What happened to that dream?)(There is a lump in my throat now. I can’t take it anymore. I hate this person, his son and his entire ancestry. I don’t want to have anything to do with him.) (Dad, I don’t think this person is worth my boots let alone marrying him.)
Prospective Groom’s Father: Ok then, let’s meet up in my house this Sunday. God willing, if everything goes fine, we could even fix the marriage dates.
Gauri: ()
Gauri’s Father: Yes sir, God willing of course. See you soon sir. Bye sir.

Is this what Gauri’s 22 years of life is worth? Her parents gave up their dreams and ambitions to bring her up to this day? I think not. Gauri and her parents deserve much more than this. Gauri deserves an identity as a human being and her parents deserve respect for bringing up a respectable human being.

Meeting my Friend after a long time

I was going to meet my best friend after a long time, almost a year and a half. I was feeling good about it but not particularly anxious or excited. It was strange because we are best friends to each other and I should have missed her terribly and be really excited to meet her. Analyzing my feelings a little further, I think my mellowness was not due to lack of love for her. It was because I was really comfortable with her when we were together and felt the same way even after the long separation. I could and was expecting the same Friend that I had known from the second year of my college. I feel really nice and content talking to her. I can lay naked all my feelings to her and be assured she will not make me feel guilty for any of it however unconventional they are. I could tell her all the mixed feelings I keep having and she won’t blame me for any of them.
Its important to be honest about ones feelings to at least one other person. And that person is whom we call Friend. It is important because it helps a person to prioritize feelings. Talking to my Friend helps me see my own mistakes. It helps me see my virtues too. She might not pin-point them to me but I still see them and wake up to them. She is my mirror, showing a reflection of my mind to me. I might not have told her a lot of things but I am made aware of them too when I talk to her.
Everyone should have at least one person in their lives whom they can call Friend. It helps put life on track.

My view of Las Vegas

A bunch of us went to Las Vegas this Thanks Giving. When I planned my trip, I had no idea of what to expect there. I was told it was a city of casinos. I was told it was one of the best places on earth. What I wasn’t told was how it feels to be there. I went there with no expectations - just wanting to see what all the hype was about; why is it that a person is told to visit Las Vegas at least once in his life time.
As soon as I landed at the Las Vegas airport, I saw gambling machines. I had been to a casino before so the machines were familiar but their presence in an airport and so many of them at that, was odd. Then I saw the advertisements of all kinds of shows - from strip dancing to magic shows, all of them looking larger than life. So far so good. I still did not know what to expect in the city.
On the second day of the trip, after coming back from the Grand Canyon, I went around the city. I hopped from one casino to another, each bigger and better than the other, each having a speciality of its own. One casino depicted the city of NewYork and had its own miniature but a huge statue of Liberty, another depicted the city of Paris and had its own miniature but huge Eiffel Tower, another depicted Venice and had its own small gondolas. I had never seen anything so grand and extravagant like the casinos in Vegas. The first few casinos I visited, I appreciated the exuberance. I even tried my luck on a few slot machines and enjoyed the excitement of winning and losing. And then, while walking on the skywalk from one casino to another, I saw a beggar on the pavement. He said he was homeless and hungry. He looked pathetic, even more so because of the extravagance around him. There were people walking in every direction, some in groups and some alone, attired in their most exquisite clothing, trying to look like they belonged to this place but utterly failing because the city demanded far too much exorbitance. Amidst this vulgar display of riches, there sat this man begging for food and shelter. I did not give him anything. I was far too shocked to believe this man who said he was homeless and pennyless in Las Vegas. I stood there for a while and looked around the city and the man. I felt it was unwanted - they city was completely unwanted. The city no longer looked beautiful to me - it looked vulgar, arrogant and hollow. It looked like a self-indulged pampered princess whose only purpose in life is to show off her evening gowns. I felt angry with myself that I was trying to enjoy this city. I promised myself I would never recommend anyone to visit this place. Thinking these thoughts, I followed my friends into the next casino. I did not want my sour mood to rub on my friends so I tried to forget what I had just thought outside and loose myself in the artificial beauty of the casino. I was artificially happy.
In this city, man has tried to compete with God in creating beauty. He has tried to shut the sunlight out by creating artificial skies and tried to outshine the moon and the starts with bright artificial lighting. He might have succeeded in creating the beauty but somehow fails to create that true happiness a person feels when surrounded by lush green mountains and rivers. Man’s beauty makes one feel guilty of enjoying it, God’s beauty makes one feel at peace with himself. Hats off to Man’s effort to compete with God but he has a long way to go before he can even understand the workings of God’s beauty.
Yes, a person should go to Las Vegas once in his lifetime if he can afford. It is only then that he will appreciate God and His creations. I do.

What Does Life Mean?

I don’t know the meaning of Life, I don’t know the facts of Life but I do enjoy the essence of Life. I am content that I am here, in this world and I think I am one of the very few people who can feel that way, actually one of the very few people to have the time, energy and opportunity to think such thoughts. I am lucky.
I really fail to understand why there are people on this earth who just can’t afford to think; people who do not have the time, energy or opportunity to think why they are on this earth. Shouldn’t every person have a right to live his life rather than just exist. Who makes these decisions? Who has the authority to decide which person lives his life and which person drags and crawls his way through? Is it the person himself? If it is so, why would anyone want to not live life? There should be someone else making these decisions, someone else giving more time, energy and opportunity to one person and denying it to another. Is it whom we call God? What is God? Why is God beyond all human comprehension? It is not fair that we, as humans, can think enough to be inquisitive about God but not enough to answer our questions. Surely, we have spent all our lives asking questions to ourselves and eventually finding answers to them ourselves too. We call it the “process of growing up”. Does it mean, as we grow older and try hard enough to get the answers, we could understand that authority that we call God? Has no human ever discovered God before he died so he could tell other people? Is it that a person chooses not to tell anything about his discovery even if does discover? Is it what we call death - a person discovers God and is so content with himself that he doesn’t feel any kind of need anymore and hence chooses to pass out of this life? No, it can’t be. This theory about death is somehow not adding up. I was on track till I spoke about growing up but have gone off the mark after that.
I will think about it again, some other time, in a new perspective probably. For now, my life feels content and happy even with all these unanswered questions. I somehow feel confident I will find answers eventually. Until then, I can enjoy the feeling of happiness. I wish this phase of life for everyone. It’s the best part of Life!

Who Am I?

Some people call me an introvert, some others call me arrogant. Some of them think I am intelligent, some others think I am dull. Some say I am selfish, some say I am immature. As for me, I am confused. I think I am none of the above but I can’t be sure so many people are wrong. If only people could understand me! Before that, do I understand myself? If given a chance, can I tell people who I am? Let me try-
Introvert: “a person characterized by concern primarily with his or her own thoughts and feelings - a shy person.” I am not an introvert. I am mostly concerned with what others feel rather than what I feel. When I talk to a person, I try to read that person’s mind. I am not open with a stranger. I don’t ask her any questions about herself because I don’t feel the need for it. I can see he is physically well and that is all about I can be concerned about a stranger. But when with my parents or when I meet a friend or any person I know enough to care for, the first thing that crosses my mind before saying anything is “what will that person feel if I say this? Won’t she be hurt? Will she be happy if I say it? Or does it matter to her at all?” Mostly, I feel my comments or advice or thoughts are too insignificant to the other person so I keep them to myself. If not that, I probably don’t have anything to say at all; I think a lot about a problem before providing a solution to it; sometimes, I get too lost in my thoughts to find my way back. May be this silence makes people think I am an introvert but clearly, I am not. I do speak out when I feel I would make a difference.
Arrogant: “making claims or pretensions to superior importance or rights; overbearingly assuming; insolently proud.” If I was this, I wouldn’t have spent so many sleepless nights thinking why I was not noticed by anyone in a party or why I was ignored in my acquaintance circle and why I was not heard when I had tried to voice my opinion. How many times I had wanted to say something but stopped myself for lack of confidence. How can I be arrogant?
Selfish and immature: I don’t let anyone hurt me. If they do, I try to hurt them back or make it a point not to trust them again. I cannot sacrifice my self-esteem for someone else’s pleasure. Is that being selfish? I think it is self-respect. I react openly to an attack; don’t take a blame lying down. Is that being immature? I think it is being brave. People often mistake diplomacy for maturity. I think diplomacy is just a camouflaged term for cowardice and I am not a coward.
I am not what people think I am. So, who am I? I don’t know, I don’t want to define myself and restrict my growth domain. I am just an adolescent trying to discover myself. I want to have the freedom to grow in any direction , to make small mistakes and learn from them. I am yet to discover the absolute good. I want to explore all the emotions, sentiments, strengths and weaknesses that I have and then decide upon the best route to take. Till then, I am what I am and I am not bad.

To My Dear Mother

Every dusk and dawn, I ask my God for a boon:
“Please let me have my mother for as long as I live.”
When I wished to see the sun, she took me in her womb and brought me to this earth.
When I wished to smell the flowers, she gave me her breathe and lead me to the gardens.
When I wished to chase the bees, she held my hand and taught me to walk.
When I wished to love and feel, she gave me her soul and taught me to care.
When I wished to spread my wings and fly, she gave me her strength and showed me the skies.
When I wished to see another world, she gave me her dreams and let me go.
And now I wish to sleep, “God, please lead me back to her womb.”