Some uncensored thoughts

Dear I&B Ministry,

You clearly have run out of ideas on how to run the ministry; so let me make some recommendations for you for the welfare of our people

1)           Censor the programs run in main stream media during the prime time from 6-10pm. The vile family dramas , with special emphasis on the bond between mothers-in-law and daughters-in-law are highly insinuating in nature. These family dramas run for years together making women addicted to it , and this is the source of entertainment of most Indian women. Think about that - Time that can otherwise be spent on getting some physical exercise and/or social networking is spent on TV because they have no idea of how important being physically active is. Mega serial programs do to women’s minds what alcohol does to men’s. Moreover , since our government do not spend enough on the social security of its senior citizens, it becomes highly imperative that we sensitize them on the importance of being physically active which is for the body and being socially active which is for the mind. This will in turn nurture good relationships among neighbors , which may in the long run help avert embarrassing communal issues and help raise the quality of people’s lives.

For the above said reasons, we highly recommend censoring of TV programs as we do for films

2)           Secondly, you should put a curb on the promotion of junk food , in TV channels meant for children. Give me one nutrient that is provided by the convenience food that is ready-to-eat that are heavily advertised in our TV channels for money. They help nobody except the manufacturers and the sellers. In addition, do you have any idea about the plastic waste that they leave behind – which unfortunately are not even recyclable. Who gains from such products ? Not our children for sure. And many women , do not even know the harm caused by such store brought products. Let us not capitalize on the ignorance of poor women, who are easily lured into buying the packets of junk food that comes in  small packages which are easily affordable. Providing food that are lacking nutrition is denying opportunity to good food that are a little more difficult to prepare for working women laborers and other working women alike. Remember , our primary education does not include lessons on good nutrition.

3)           Considering the reach of the regional channels , you can use them to spread awareness on the harmful effects of air pollution and how people can take small steps to tackle it. Corona has been successful in achieving what air pollution could not – making people wear masks. That is the power of awareness campaigns. I fail to understand how lesser important air pollution is – which causes slow death to our biological systems on prolonged exposure. Our biggest bane is people who are rich enough to buy diesel vehicles and careless enough to idle the engines in public areas with windows rolled up because their air conditioners are ON, and the general public who is unaware of the direct effect of inhaling toxic vehicle exhaust fumes. Both the parties need awareness – one of them need to be more careful and the others need to be lesser careless. However good, the sale of automobiles be for the economy, their exhaust is bad for the planet. Remember, economy does not matter if there is no planet to live in

4)           You can use your powers to instruct our media channels to not broadcast the same regressive pseudo macho movie more than 1 time in a month , which they always do 😊

5)           And the fifth, and the most important, you can use the same TV channels to address the length and breadth of nation that has been deeply hurt by the Delhi riots, 2020 – for they  are in our hearts and thoughts ever since we started taking the Indian pledge that “All Indians are our brothers and sisters” , and they really are.

6)          Recommend to the government to give Y-category security to our journalist brothers and sisters who faces occupational hazards and face big risks to bring news to our secure private rooms. It is that voice that you are trying to quieten.

7)          And, I request you to not use your powers to perform visual policing by shutting down our visual media when you have failed to control inflammatory speech under your nose against whom no charges have been made whereas a 11 year old school child’s , helpless , single mother is subjected to sedition charges , thus psychologically marring their lives for ever.

These were our expectations when we voted you to power. Please don't fail us everyday!

Sincerely,
A Bharthiya Nari


PS: I wrote the above with the conviction that there is no offense non-bailable in it and have written it in good faith- hope the fate of the Bidari mother doesnot await me

The Little Buddha Series - 2

The master manipulator
-----------------------------



All hell breaks loose when it is Gautham's bathing time


"Acha, Acha, no Acha, why do I bathe everyday Acha ? , stop disturbing me Acha " - Gautham cries at the top of his voice

He runs hither and thither

"Water is cold - i don't want to bathe" , he screams

"No! , it is not, may be we can set it more warmer today" , Achan says

"No!, still I don't want to bathe" , Gautham doesnot relent

<< Achan goes to the bathroom to fill the bucket >>

"Gautham!" , Achan calls again , "Come and feel the temperature for yourself"

Gautham doesnot oblige , still runs around crying

Gautham comes to Amma who is cooking in the kitchen

"Amma, please tell Achan that I don't want to bathe now"

Amma, whose focus is on the simmering Sambhar echoes what she hears

"Acha, Gautham says that he doesnot want to bathe! ", Amma cries out, to be heard

All Achan understands is that his wife is shouting from the kitchen which is not a new thing anymore after 8 years of marriage

"Gautham, what did Amma say ? ", Achan asks

"Amma asks me not to bathe!!!", Gautham answers from under the cot

He is an absolute darling at all other times

Erotica: Let me make you a meal

Two heads of broccoli,
One cup of mushroom,
A few pods of garlic,
And a pinch of salt.
Top it with two dollops of sunshine
And a spoonful of tenderness.
I’ll then throw in a few seeds of love,
While cooking you a meal.
My food will arm your body with protection
And feed your cells with nutrition.
Alongside, my love will travel -
to lay dormant in your blood.
Dormant until the next rains fall.
Rains breathe life into my love -
to fill your arms with hope,
body with warmth , 
and, heart with sunshine. 
My love will then take you towards the sky,
To walk with you on the farthest clouds

The Little Buddha Series - 1

The Father wishes for a falling asteroid
--------------------------------------------------
“Long long ago, the earth was a cloud of dust and gases”, the 7 year old exhibited his memory skills in front of the guests , isn’t it so, Acha* ? , he asked the father who nodded his head in approval. The guests were impressed evidently : “ wow , you know so much at a small age” - one of them asked ; with a  question to further test the child’s knowledge in Astrophysics – “tell me, what is gas?”. Well, the boy had only a vague idea of what gases mean , or if he had, he did not know how to express it , so he said , “Hm..hm.. gases is what come out when we fart, isn't it so, Acha ?” ,the boy asked innocently.
That was a Cut without a Retake. 

Social misfits
----------------
During the train trip, the 3 year old got very comfortable with the twenty-something handsome man ( a gym goer apparently ) who was sharing the same coach with the Acha, the Amma and the boys.
“Don’t you think that you are boring the dude” , asked Amma hushing the boy– “no, I am not !, are you bored ?” , asked the boy to the dude. “Not at all!”, said the dude . In another few minutes , he got up to go elsewhere. “Amma, where is the guy?” , asked the boy who has just then bent down to pick up his toy car from under the train seat. “He is gone. Did I not warn you not to bore that guy?” , asked the complaining Amma.

Pause. Pause.

The guy re entered the coach in a few minutes. “Look Amma" , the boy said, "The guy is here. So he had only gone to do SuSu*”, the boy screamed jubilantly. Everyone stood transfixed while Amma pulled the blanket over the head, when the dude and his muscles shrivelled like a deflated balloon.

*SuSu: In India, this is a child's gibberish used for pee-ing :D
*Acha : A vernacular word for Father
*Amma: A vernacular word for Mother

The despicable beef eaters

So earlier this year, we were looking for a babysitter - an ex army man or a retired police constable who can take care of the 7 and 3 year old boys while also taking care of their own mental sanity. Honestly I did not mind employing a ring master who had the patience to keep them safe and engaged  by teaching them to jump through a hoop or do a headstand . Just somebody who can keep the children disciplined – that was the only requirement, at a point ! It was at that time that Tulsi introduced Durga-bhai to us. Durga-bhai! -  who looked like a Shimla apple. She hailed from Nepal , but lived in the city with her husband and had 3 children, the younger two were in their teens and the elder daughter is married off and had a daughter too – all of them were back in Nepal. She was in her early thirties and her daughter is in her twenty’s and neither of these women have attended schools , she said. The numbers did not tally, but that shouldn’t be my worry if it is not hers and thus I left it at that. That is all we knew about her. But the rest was shown in her work – the children wait for Durga-bhai to come to work everyday – that says it all. Durga-bhai was purely loyal and extremely committed - to the children and to us. Little did I know that the solution to my problems can be a four feet figure from across the Himalayas.

Durga-bhai was pleased with us too – for I tell our neighbours that she is our children’s nani* - I never corrected her by saying that I introduce her as nanny and not *nani . Ignorance is so blissful sometimes ; whoever experiencing that occasional state of bliss - by audaciously staying away from textbooks - earns it, and thus deserve it – I should not be snatching it from them by imparting that extra knowledge – nobody gains from it , neither I nor her . By staying that way, I was giving her work some extra dignity too.

Days thus passed and came winter – the most dreadful times - when the sun barely grins, floors are cold, water in pipes colder and  clothing are of multiple layers and the air always damp. The big brother and the little brother had started to take turns in falling sick so that no two was alright at the same time. Taking care of them while also doing office work from home is the most terrible chore for a working mother. I thus make only easily digestible (read as ‘bland’)  food for the boys. They are never anyway great fans of my culinary skills, but I make up for that by serving a good dose of hunger with every meal. Since the care-takers need extra care, on such days I have made arrangements to get my lunch delivered at home - one good lunch a day keeps the gloom away - doesn’t it ? Ok, on one such day, came 3 o’ clock and Durga-bhai entered with my lunch (she must have met the delivery man on the way)  . She came and checked on the boys, and finding them to be fixated on the television, headed to the kitchen to brew her full milk tea and started to speak nonchalantly – we never get to talk on days that I go to work. Durga-bhai was happy to work in my household, she confided and pressed on my food parcel. But she has to travel to Nepal after 3 months , taking a 2 month break from work, for that is when they do Puja for Devi, Devatha and Purvaj* . Her Purvaj* apparently appeared in her dreams regularly and put forth their needs in front of her. And during the Puja break, she enters into a trance – do all that is needed for the deities and ancestors and they do not supposedly trouble her for the rest of the year. That is her story! – to each their won. But she loved to work for us, she reiterated while continuing to tinker with my food, as her ancestors seem pleased too – no complaints from them so far - for we are Hindus and I have photos of Hindu deities adorning my walls which makes her feel secure for she is a Hindu too . She recalled what happened while working with a Muslim household soon after she came to the city. She thought it was alright to work with them, but the ancestors!, they were not happy and were complaining to her every other night. But she continued for some more time as nobody else was giving her work. And the vengeful ancestors, they entered her body as a chronic headache – all because Muslims eat the sacred cows, she spoke with the confidence of a 5-year-old. Cows are sacred indeed!, for the Hindu holy books consider them as sacred. And they providing milk for human consumption, is a bonus. The sacrifice of cows is holier considering that the milk is actually meant for it’s own calf but still the cows willingly provide it for human consumption (sic). While facts , logic and Hinduttva were all in disagreement – I decided to remain silent, both because I was extremely hungry and because the woman’s logic was favoring me . Finally when I grabbed the food package , I swiftly took it to the kitchen, not just because I was extremely hungry , but also because I was worried - what if the ancestors make my food come alive , for it would have then instantly cried Moo!

      Adding a picture of Durga-bhai and the boys for attention - bloggers these days find it hard to gain readership :)

nani*: father’s mother

Purvaj*: ancestors

A letter to my husband

Dear Mr husband,

It has been 8 tumultuous years since we set off together and at this juncture , let me tell you what you are! - let the whole world see this and stare at you and, you be bashful, i don't care !

Alright! So, you are a -
                Yudhishtira* in justice and truthfulness,
                Bheemasena* in valor and gluttony,
                Arjuna* in skills and perseverance,
                Nakula* in handsomeness,
                Sahadeva* in patience and gentleness , and ,
                Karna* in generosity.

Thank you for this life that would have given Ms. Draupadi* a major insecurity complex - for I am not married to the Pandavas*, but to the Kauntheyas* <3

All that thus said , remember that you had assumed the form of the cunning Guru Drona* too - for you forbade my right hand from writing letters to men ever again, for my pursuit for the perfect man ended at you! , and understand that it is never easy to be a good man's wife ; neither  was it ever for Ms.Draupadi too!

Yours truly,
The ever grumpy wife :D

PS:
*Pandava : पाण्डो: पुत्र: - Son of Pandu*
*Kauntheya: कुन्तिया: पुत्र: - Son of Kunti*

Note: Nakula and Sahadeva - though born to Madri and Pandu would , in my opinion, qualify as Kauntheya , because Kunti was a dutiful mother to all of the Pandavas equally well, according to the Puranas. But, it was only during the epic Mahabharatha war , long after Pandu's death, that Karna was revealed and acknowledged as Kunti's son , and thus Karna did not qualify as a Pandava or else, Draupadi would have had a 6th husband too.

*All are characters of the beautiful Ancient Indian Epic - The Mahabharatha , the longest poem ever written in world literature. It is said about Mahabharatha that , “Whatever is here is found elsewhere. But whatever is not here is nowhere else.”

Bangalore Days : How Cynics Are Born

I always wanted to write about the lives of housemaids employed in the hostels in Bangalore. Mind you!, the exploitation that they go through is something that is never talked about, but it will melt the most callous of hearts – provided they themselves are not the takers of their cheap labour.

During my nascent days in Bangalore, I’d been living in one of the many hostels available in the city, which taxes us with one fourth of our salaries. And the maids employed in these dungeons are imports from the nearby districts of Tamil Nadu, which are quite remote that spending some from the public exchequer is not considered wise by governments. Many of them came, few persisted and still few continues. All of them have the same scenes way back home. Poor rains, zero agricultural outputs, ailing family members, lots of dependents, drunks as husbands, plenty of stomachs to provide for etc etc. And they come to the city to make some bucks and escape from their troubling present.

One among them was Shobha. She was markedly different because she was new to the city, her first assignment, and was hopeful that the sophisticated city would treat her better. That reflected in everything she did. She never questioned the requests made by girls. Each preferred a different dish for breakfast ; this arises when people from cultural diversities live together. These women, unlike the locals and regulars here, never knew their rights. Even when we return from work, she could still be seen cleaning bathrooms and wouldn’t have had the time to help herself with the lunch, may be all the while thinking that days would change. The unscrupulous landlords didn’t give her even a day off in a week. She was not paid even one half of what they receive from each of us. During the rare times of necessity, when she visited her faraway home, her return was greeted with salary cuts. And she was not allowed to step out even for her minimal needs.

I often feel that despite so many NGOs working with various disadvantaged groups and so many trade unions for all sorts of workers, the temporary domestic help are indeed shortchanged, as they are disorganized, their demands often suppressed due to their migrant status and lack of knowledge of their basic rights and their market value.

The day she saw my camera, Shobha asked if I could click a picture of hers. She smiled when I signaled. I showed her the imprint on the screen. She awed with wonder, digitial cameras were new to her. Though I worried that the tanned to brown , bony face that’s smiling back at her will be a dampener for her spirits, no, she giggled.

Later, the hostel was closed quoting profitability reasons and we parted ways. One day, when I was flipping through the photos, I saw the old naive smile once again. Whatever would have happened to her ?! It took me a while to trace her. And when I finally found her, she was perching on the floor near the gate of another dungeon, with a plate of dry idli. She had grown more haggardly and was visibly untidy which was quite unlike her. The eyes were puffy and red which was the only indication that the circuit did exist , for the red fluid to flow through. The suspicious look she gave me was a far cry from the once effervescent lady she was. Yet another soul was successfully defeated by the city