Being neutral

It's so difficult to ignore and more importantly remain calm and unaffected by filth. I speak both literally and figuratively.
It could just be a messy kitchen. It could also be certain filthy people who believe in exalting themselves by putting down those that preceded them. Maybe they feel threatened. Maybe they feel triumphant and they want to lord over their victories. Or if I may crudely put it they want to relish the spoils.

Maybe they feel justified. Maybe it's displacement. Denial. Projection or any of the other defense mechanisms. Or maybe the only thing that makes them happy about their current situation is their conviction that they have got what the other individual has supposedly lost!

Pointed accusations hurt. Especially when people just won't let things go and move on with their own lives and keep their noses in their own filthy business. It sometimes gets difficult to ignore it. So one feels like doing something about it. But then it dawns upon one that you can't change others and you can't make them clean or rather keep them clean. Especially if they just go ahead and roll over in the same shit over and over again and play the same stale tape over and over while rolling in the old shit.

That's when you suddenly realise. Hey! I am above all this crap and I just don't give a tiny rat's ass.

And my advice to the filthmongers and the holier than thou preachers. Stop fooling yourself. Enjoy what you've got because you have it and not because someone else doesn't. You deserve it. You've earned it. And most importantly, you've stuck with it.

Goodnight, goodbye and good luck.

P.S: Just keep me out of it!

:)

'A Wednesday'

Mumbai is under siege and so it has been for the past three days since Wednesday. The hotels, the hospital, the Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus, the Jewish centre, each and every place that was targeted reeks of a well co-ordinated bid to destroy, to violate, to massacre, to ruin and to terrorise. The harbingers of war, perpetrators of evil, hatred, violence and destruction have come together and taken Mumbai hostage.

An attack on Mumbai is an attack on our business capital, the highest tax paying city in the country and it is really an attack on our pride. We have worked hard to improve our situation as a third world country and to be a nation to reckon with and now, if the city that never sleeps, the city that has been the driving force of the progress of our country is under attack, it is an insult, the worst sort of insult to India and to every Indian worth his salt, to every Indian who is proud to be an Indian.

But what has been more upsetting is some of the coverage of the event by the International media. Indian hospitals unable to cope with treating the numerous injured in Mumbai, an analysis of the way in which Indian forces have handled the terror situation, repeated and pointed questions towards Indian authorities and journalists asking them if India is pointing its finger, as usual, toward Pakistan and all such cheap attempts 'to make hay while the sun shines' and boost one's viewership or readership should be forsaken. Its time journalists stop seeing bad news as good news, its time we stop being hounds and become humans, humans that are sensitive to a nation under attack, humans that are mindful not to throw salt upon open wounds and humans that ensure the world comes together in support of a nation fighting terror.

Prodigal daughter

Up above on that tiny little cloud playing hide and seek with the sun along with other tiny and equally naughty, playful and spunky little clouds, I lay blissfully unaware of life's many pressing questions. My tiny little break.
Its an ordinary day. Nothing particularly unusual or memorable about it. But a story can't be that simple and straightforward, can it? There needs to be a conflict or a series of conflicts and eventually, some resolution.
And of course there have been conflicts. Too many perhaps. There was absolute lawlessness. There was lying, thievery, sneaking, cheating, lying, wanton behaviour, there was anger, hatred, all-destroying rage, all-consuming jealousy and ambition and greed, there was unhealthy competition, unhealthy vibes. And yet something clicked. Everything wasn't resolved technically. But the sun came out. And everything fell into place. Just like a skillfull driver changes gears effortlessly and beautifully thus making the car just glide forward; very much like the smooth swish of a gifted artist's hand thus completing a grand masterpiece, somehow miraculously life goes on, people recover, people find alternatives, solace, peace, love and many other things, in the least expected places.

But whats most miraculous is the knowledge of one's folly, of being aware of one's errors and most importantly, the repentance that always accompanies genuine desire for improvement, for resurrection. There may be many more mistakes and detours.

After all, even the Lord fell three times while carrying His Cross. But victory lay in rising again.

The prodigal daughter is coming home Father. I ask not, for any fatted cow. Just for a little place at their feet.

Being Indian

Lately I've become very intolerant of long, preachy, highly introspective and philosophical and 'artistic' writings and therefore I want to make this short and crisp.
Here I am living in the UK, trying to fulfill my destiny, if ever there were such a thing. And the one thing this foreign land has helped me discover about myself, is my pride in my land, in it's history and heritage, in my upbringing, the traditional family ties, in the Indian education system, in the chaotic traffic on potholed roads, in the mouth watering-tear inducing-lips burning sort of spicy food and even in our climate (We have something called the sun. (a rare sight in England!)) and also very specially in my skin tone (its hot just like our climate!).

I take pride especially, in the Indian call centres and their ability to serve customers in countries and situations far removed from our own. And I wish people were a bit more tolerant and mindful of the fact that it is a stressful job and the person on the other end of the phone is trying their very hardest to be of help. Anyway, I digress.

Point is I love being Indian. Not in a 'We're so superior than the rest of you sort of way' but more like I just don't want to be born as anyone else sort of a way.

P.S: I do wish we could freely travel around Europe and not have to get an expensive visa each time. Oh well. One can't have everything.

God's ways

I am finally done with my Masters in multi-media journalism. I have handed in the last marked assignment.

And with impeccable timing, my computer crashed the very next day and with it obviously the entire year's work. Luckily, the hard drive died on me exactly one month prior to the expiry of its warranty.
Yet another demonstration of the Lord's incredible timing and His amazing ways.

All in good time.
All in good time.

Praise be the Lord!

Summer love

Short and sweet.
Blissful.
Invigorating.
Thrilling.
Hassle-free

And yet its over.
Soon.
Too soon.

Why cant life be one long, beautiful, glorious summer?

my Pride. my Inspiration.

While mere mortals like me sit here dreaming, bickering, losing track and focus and direction and what else not, super amazing, ultra talented and driven people, such as my former classmate and current inspiration, Susha Soman, are out there making real journalism.

Here's the link to her first and absolutely stunning work 'on air' on CNN IBN.

http://www.ibnlive.com/videos/64170/plagiarism-chord-that-strings-pritams-music.html

Orange!

I promised myself that this year would be about taking on new challenges. Facing my fears. Expanding my capabilities. Overcoming my shortcomings.

And most importantly taking up challenges I conveniently avoided. Until NOW.

So here I was before the Orange outlet. Soaking in the vibrancy of the colour. More so the people. The technology. The care, attention, precision and legality it demands.

This was also a bid to overcome and totally get rid of my recently acquired shyness and inhibition and my, I won't exactly say, lack of confidence, rather my predisposition to just hold myself back so as to avoid embarrassment and a preference for going unnoticed rather than attracting too much attention.

Coming out of my 'Comfort Zone', so to speak, in 'Self Help' terms.

Anyway, my first day as a sales advisor. A lot to take in.

New people. New environment. Totally new and unfamiliar gadgets. Newer customers. All hopefully befriended. Some realistically.

A new beginning.

An admission of ignorance.

But, also, a willingness to learn.

Happy happy

I love it when people post comments on ancient posts of mine. It makes me go back and read the post and the comment. And its a special sort of happiness. First and foremost, someone's interested in my writing and is taking the trouble to read the older posts and second I recall the circumstances around the post and the refreshed memory makes me appreciate my journey so far and that makes me happier still because I then realise how blessed I am because of all the wonderful people that surround me and those who have helped me thus far and those because of whom I have had such a good life. It's like a nuclear reaction.

It ends in this uncontrollable, amaing explosion of tremendous joy and happiness. All because someone took the trouble to leave a comment.

Talk about low maintenance.

Wake up! Its snowing!!!

Wake up! Its snowing!!!
When was the last time you heard someone say that. Well, for me it was the very first time. I opened my eyes, drew the curtains and it was white. All white.

I simply couldn't believe my eyes. Couldn't contain my excitement. Nor could I control my feet. They sprang out of the room of their own accord, down the stairs, through the door and out.. welcoming the flakes that were still falling.

They fell softly, gently. And I knew. Right then. We were going to be friends. More than friends maybe. It seemed like a perfect match you know. It was worth the wait.

All those years of anticipation, the yearning, the longing, the pining, the numerous expectations, the fanciful imagination, my mind's conceptions, concoctions even. I couldn't wait to behold the precipitation.

I had imagined this moment so many times. How would I feel? How would I react? What must I do? What must I say? Should I be silent? Or should I delve straight into a conversation, a dialogue, some friendly banter maybe? Should I be formal? Or relaxed and laidback? Should I play it cool? Detached and indifferent? Intense and thoughtful? Mysterious and hard to get?

But nothing prepared me for this moment. The moment we first met. My heart was racing, excited, scared, happy, throbbing. All at the same time.

I was delighted. The snow was beautiful and I love all things beautiful. The snow was gentle and who doesn't like a soft caress. The snow had enveloped the entire landscape in almost no time and I've always respected achievers. The view was enchanting, might I say, bewitching. I was certainly charmed. I felt a chill. He was cool. The situation looked promising. I could see a future.

It seemed like a good alliance. My kind of man.

I boldly and enthusiastically ventured out. In my enthusiasm, I threw caution to the winds and gave right into the impulse. And I didn't bother to use any protection. I paid the price you know.

I made my first baby too. A snow baby of course. I was aiming for a snowman but I quickly realised, the Lord has given me a lot of gifts and talents. But craftsmanship, he has not. My long fingers weren't very useful in making anything that looked like anything. The end result looked like a baby to me. He didn't quite come out very proportionate. But he's cute all the same. His name's Plum. Cause his mouth's shaped like one. (That is also because it is one)

Anyway, within a few minutes of handling the snow. I felt this biting cold in my hands. My hands went numb. And so did my feet. My toes began to hurt with the cold.

His coolness didn't seem that attractive anymore. When I tried talking and reasoning with him, he turned to ice. The path was slippery. The flowers had been weighed down by him. It didn''t look like they would survive. Everything was white. There was no colour to be seen.

Then it dawned on me. As beautiful and wonderful as snow is, he is. or rather, can be very harsh too. He causes many accidents, delays and he can be very inconvenient as well.

I rushed back into the house. To feel the warmth. To get the blood running in my veins again. To experience life. To forget that cold, numb, lifeless feeling.

Once I had recovered, I looked out the window and I was drawn to the snow yet again. This time, I took the necessary precautions. I was more careful and better covered. I did enjoy the scene. My clothes kept me warm and protected me from his harshness. And this allowed my eyes to enjoy the view. The new view. The true view.

I returned home a little later.


By afternoon, he was nearly gone. The sun had come out and he had melted away. I was sad. Not heartbroken or anything. Just sad that I didn't say goodbye. He didn't wait long enough. He couldn't I guess.

He took Plum with him. I'll miss the little fellow. I'll miss his father too.

And in all honestly, I do love the snow. Not as a companion though.

It really happened!

I shall make no attempt at eloquence or any effort to indulge in frivolous language. I am just so glad that it has finally really truly actually seriously in reality happened.
Veena Zacharias, only daughter of wonderful wonderful wonderful parents and only sister of the best brother in the world is in BBC!

Its been two weeks. I am an intern. With BBC radio Berkshire. I have been inside the hallowed walls, seen brilliance at work, seen talent, seen ability, seen first rate journalists and good human beings too.

And I just can't believe that it has really happened.

Pinching myself. Loving it. Living it. Feeling it. Thanking You for it.

the 'Drudge Report'

Prince Harry has returned from Afghanistan thanks to a "Drudge Report" and its big mouth.

The BBC videos of Prince Harry reveal a man who wants to be a soldier to serve his country or maybe to just be a part of the action, a man who is tired of being treated differently but also a man who understands that it is always going to be this way because he was born into 'Royalty' and with its perks come constant, intrusive and never ending media scrutiny and speculation.

I almost heard him say, "If only people would let me be!"

Was the media blackout justified?

Well, I think it was because it ensured the safety of both Prince Harry and the equally important soldiers who were deployed with him. And in my opinion, it was extremely irresponsible and very 'vulture' like to have flashed the news knowing fully well the consequences of doing so.


Is it impossible for the people in the media to stop being news hounds and be humans once in a while?

Web book award for Dorset writer

As I hit refresh on the BBC Dorset news webpage, expecting news of scams or drug raids (Majority of Dorset news stories seem to revolve around these two topics), I was pleasantly surprised to find a story that read "A Dorset writer who published chapters of her latest book online will make it into print as the winner of YouWriteOn website's book of the year awards."

I said to myself, "So we do report good news."

A few moments later, another thought struck me. I was reading an article about a writer who published a few chapters from her book on the internet and winning a book of the year award from a website on the BBC website.

It seemed so natural and perfectly normal.

Only on pondering over the news piece did I notice that we had replaced age old traditions like paper backs or hard binds, publishers and newspapers with just a few clicks.

I am not sure if I want to let go, just yet, of the pleasure in turning each page of a gripping thriller eager to learn what's in store for the heroine. And I still want to read about what's happening in the world while gloriously sitting on my throne.

This, from a student of multi-media journalism. Isn't it ironic?

'Anti-freeze' marriage

"I, Kate, take you, Lee, for my lawful husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and health, until death do us part."

Maybe these vows were long forgotten when Kate Knight was busy scheming the death of a husband. Or maybe she was just making sure that death did do them apart and left her a whole lot richer and debt-free.

Kate Knight, 28, was found guilty of the attempted murder of Lee Knight at their home in Stoke-on-Trent, Staffordshire in 2005.

She tried to kill her husband by putting anti-freeze into his curry and wine on their seventh wedding anniversary! Talk about a memorable way to celebrate their togetherness.

The court heard that Knight plotted to poison her husband in order to collect a £130,000 payout from his employer, in order to clear her £17,000 loans and remortgage.

At first glance, we see a sick, desperate, selfish, uncaring, careless and callous woman without morals and a conscience scheming, plotting and devising ‘Operation Debt-riddance’.

But in looking deeper, one has to ask, “How did she get to such a desperate state?”

Was it the credit companies who make credit cards so easy to own and encourage even probably pray for reckless spending? Or was it the betting shops on every street offering instant money, instant fortunes and asking for absolutely no labour? Or was it that shady peddler offering the highest ‘high’ of your lifetime for the hundredth time? Or was it the flashy lifestyle, the ‘diva’ clothing, the brand fixation, the aspiration to live like rich and (in)famous celebrities?

More importantly, how many of us are headed towards this downward spiral?

Sick society?

Sometimes, the news in the papers just wrenches your heart out and makes you wonder if the world is going to shambles. But once in a while, you read about something so tragic, so remarkably sad that you can almost feel the pain and for a moment there your heart is engulfed in a wave of sadness.

An inquest at Bournemouth heard the terrible story of a mentally ill man who continued to try and feed his father's decomposing body and was playing music in his dead mother's ears. He believed they were still alive.

Police found the bodies of John and Christine Dumsday in an upstairs flat with the son Paul right by their side. There was a napkin round Mr Dumsday's neck and walkman headphones in Mrs Dumsday's ears.

How did this family get so neglected that months went by before anyone noticed? Why have we become so self-centred, so private that we don’t know who are neighbour is? We don’t know his name, have probably passed him by in a corridor but never stopped to notice, to say hello, to just smile.

How many more Pauls exist around us? I have an inkling this incident is just an indication of the sickness that has spread through our society. We are in urgent need of treatment and rehabilitation.

The disease has already claimed so many lives. And so many more are at stake. This disease goes by the name of apathy.

News values

We live in a world where bad news is good news for the media. As I live and learn in the eternal hope of making a career in the media someday, I have been taught this principle over and over, Conflict, pain, suffering, tragedy, turmoil are all essential ingredients for a good news story.
Is it the media just providing the public what they want, or is it the media determining, cultivating and dictating to their audience what they should see or is it just media's unfounded assumption that only bad news sells?

TRP ratings say otherwise.

Have we become sadistic and voyeuristic, taking pleasure and being entertained by the trauma others have suffered? Or have we always been this way and the media has got our pulse and is just making hay?


I just got thinking about all this when I caught myself thinking terrible things. I was saying to myself, "Why is Bournemouth such quiet, peaceful town? God!! Nothing ever happens in here. I need something drastic for the news stories to be handed in at the university this week"

Its precisely then that I realised; I am part of the system. Or maybe, I have always been.

Adrenalin

When you just get back and take charge. Pick up after the mess with a defiant air. Calculate, strategise and set in motion the action plan in a matter of seconds.
When you resolve to fight and subdue and not take flight or submit.

That heady feeling. That rush. That exhilaration. That immense satisfaction. And the pride in oneself.

It's fantastic

Being too hard on yourself

What happens when you expect too much? Or you always want things to be just right?

You either learn that its impossible for things to go your way or as per your plans always. Physical limits, personal shortcomings, circumstances, other people, plain rotten luck. Anything or everything could go wrong. In the war that is life, you win some and you lose some. Or you remain an obstinate mule and throw your feet up in the air until you are given what you want. (That maybe adorable when a pretty 2 year old does it but a fully grown adult doing that is, quite frankly, plain revolting)

Its ok to be a perfectionist. To want the best. To be the best. To settle for nothing less. Eventually.

Defeat or failure is fine. And there can be two responses to failure.

You could panic, gasp, shiver, shudder, tremble, suffocate and die like a fish out of water does. Be as helpless and pathetic and pitiable as that. Those who care for you may cry and wish you had achieved your potential.

Or like the lizard you could regrow the rest of your body if you have managed to salvage just your tail.

And live to see another day.

And maybe, conquer it.

So, what's it gonna be?

Lose lose

I observe.
I think.
I ponder.
I scrutinise.
I evaluate.
I judge.
I decipher.
I conclude.
I react.
Sometimes the above process is completed within seconds and sometimes it takes what seems like centuries and for some things I think the process will not be completed in my lifetime.

But this is how I react to every stranger I meet, to every new situation or scenario I encounter and to every new development in my life.

I am a very opinionated person. Things are either black or white to me. I don't see grey. Consequently, I either love or hate people. Adore or detest them. Embrace or abor them. Indulge or ignore them. It's a 100% in or out situation.

And I usually get a similar response in return.

This is how its been so far.

Sometimes I feel happy that there isn't a fake bone in my body but sometimes I wish I were more tolerant. Or that people would get me.

Neither option is viable.

Age old lament

This was the topic of a recent conversation. And when the other person was voicing the thoughts that I have had time and time again about myself, it struck me that we're not as unique as we think we are. It's the same or a similar story everywhere. In a very weird sort of way it was good to have found company.

But in all sincerity I hope this friend does not succumb to the desolation. Instead. I hope my friend rises way above it all to have a spectacular life.

A tribute to you my lovely friend!

Blatant disregard to their feelings, pain, inconvenience, troubles, suffering, needs, insecurities, longings, difficulties, desires, priorities, compulsions, limitations, hopes, dreams, expectations, aspirations, ambitions, attachments and sensitivities.

It’s all about me, my needs, my feelings, my pain, my problems, my expectations, my suffering, my hopes and dreams, my this, my that. Me me me me me me.

Milked them dry. That’s what I did. Bled them till they could take it no more. All that was left of the genuine ones was the numbness. The others dusted off any signs of me and moved on before one can say boo.

The worst part is I have been aware of this all along. The whole damn time. Every single time.

But I am like a music player set on loop mode. The song just plays over and over and over and over. The listeners change but the song’s the same.

Lazy? Your nearly dead...

Change is the only constant in life. By that logic, the only way one can stay on top of things is by constantly adapting to change. Maybe getting a few steps ahead.

And so rest or stillness comes only in death.

Dark and unsettling.

Also, this is really bad news for the lazy ones.

And quietly doesn't flow the Veena....

With every new year, a realisation sets in that another year has gone by. I'm older and none the wiser? I hope that's not true.

I tried hard, real hard to resist, to fight the feeling, the urge, the compulsion to assess, review, examine, scrutinise, to understand the choices I made, the mistakes, the impulsive decisions but I just couldn't do it.

So I threw my head back, closed my eyes and had this out of body like experience and looked back at 2007.

And all I have to say is that I had my fair share of excitement, drama, suspense, pain like a sharp spear being thrust painfully slowly into your stomach, betrayal, scares and threats, twists and turns, unexpected developments, much awaited and much longed for opportunities, farewells both good and bad, mistakes both terrible and silly, tragedy, heartbreak, victories, accomplishments, long lasting life giving life support system like friends and constant, consistent change in 2007.

And truth be told, 2007 treated me well.

But I am still like this flowing stream. I have passed through many rocky patches, down breathtaking mountain slopes, through beautiful villages and yet my river is nowhere in sight.

Not yet.

I guess I will just have to keep flowing.

Happy new year!

I sent the following message to all my friends: Each and every one of them. Ok I'll admit it. I sent it to all whose numbers I still had.

"Here's to wishing us a spectacular new year filled with great jobs, true loves, trials, triumphs and happiness!!!!"

Well, this goes out to all those who didn't get my message but remember to check me up on my blog because you care enough to want to know what's happening in my life. I wish this wish for all of us.

Happy new year. :)