It’s a terrifying life

A 23 year old woman is molested on a bus, her friend is beaten till he is near death and she is tortured even more, and finally both of them are thrown off the bus left to lie on the road for dead. She has suffered massive and permanent damage to her intestines and is fighting for her life at the hospital.

Everybody in the country seems to be rooting for a change in law. Things need to change and it has to be radical. And what would that change be?

Rape should be punishable by death or castration.

A fitting punishment?

I have seen petitions floating around on Facebook, asking me to sign it to help bring justice to a girl who even if she survives at the hospital is as good a dead.

I, for one, do not believe in capital punishment. But maybe this is the right thing to do. The belief that setting the harshest punishment for this crime will show that ill-treating women will not be taken lightly in this country and the perpetrators will think twice before committing such crimes.

It makes sense, doesn’t it?

NOT.

Why do we always sidestep the issue?

In the Guwahati case, it was whether the girl stepping out of the pub at 11 in the night wearing short clothes was asking for it or not.

Unfortunately, for the self-appointed moral police in our country, this time around, the woman was not at a pub or alone late at night. But they have still managed to label her, decide her future for her, by calling her as good as dead even if she survives. Doesn’t she have a say in this?

First of all, this case is not only about rape but also torture and attempt to murder. But setting that aside, let’s not kid ourselves into thinking this whole capital punishment thing is being brought up to protect women. Right now the conviction rate for rape cases is at an abysmal 26% and these are off the ones that are reported. And we all know how much of a struggle it is to even get up the courage and report this. And then comes the stage where these women either cajoled not to lodge a complaint or even worse, their morality is questioned. Has anyone realized what will happen to this measly 26% if the punishment is intensified? We are talking about taking a life here. Forget the fact that none of us, not even our system has the right to kill; do you think it will be any easier for these women to report these cases? And how difficult do you think it will be to get a conviction?

I think I say this for all women, Indian or otherwise, that if given a choice between not being molested and knowing that if I am, there is a less than 26%  chance that my assailant will be killed or castrated. I choose the first option.

I know what I say above might sound stupid to you. But my point is exactly that. I don’t think the threat of death is going to make this country safer for women. Had it been so, there should be no murder cases in our courts.

I do believe the laws against rape should be relooked at. To ensure it is not a struggle to report the crime, to ensure the perpetrators are always, always caught and convicted, and quickly, and also so the punishment is not an appalling 5-10 years in prison (but certainly not death or castration).

But more importantly, if we are to take a stand, let’s take a stand against this whole patriarchal attitude. Ours is one of the very few countries where the criminals have been allowed to gain the moral high-ground over the women they molested.

I think I’d like to end here.

Last couple of thoughts–We all seem to have become so blood-thirsty and vindictive, or frustrated, that we are talking death and castration. Women for some reason are not considered individuals but objects to be treated as seen fit by the men.What age are we living in?

Bruno’s Eulogy

Was he the best dog in the world, or the worst?

I guess that is something that will always be up for debate…between my parents, my sister and I, and our numerous friends and relatives, who were scratched, bitten and mauled by him.

I guess I am getting a little ahead of myself here.Let me start at the beginning. 

He was scared for exactly the amount of time it took to get him home. After which, he went about peeing all over the place and marking his territory. 

He did miss him mom that night. But that was the last time we ever heard him whine or cry.

We were told it will take a little while for him to get used to us and show his true nature. If by “little while” they meant exactly 8 hours, they were right on the money. The very next morning, he began laying down the law. 

• You pet me, when I tell you to pet me.
• You don’t call me, I call you.
• You give your food when I tell you to give me your food. (I don’t think he has ever begged in his life.)

All of us gave our best shot at training him. An unsuspecting trainer was also hired. But he had already decided, “I am potty trained and that’s about all you’re going to get.”

Then I read somewhere about positive reinforcement. I started by giving him a treat every time I called him and he deigned to come to me. That whole theory blew up in my face, when he stopped coming to me until he saw food in my hand.

I remember my sister trying to play catch with him and almost getting mauled in the process. See, he thought she was trying to take the ball away from him. That day, we all learnt an important lesson – Everything in the house first belongs to him and him only.

Then there was the time he hit my dad with his paw because he moved away from him in his sleep. In his defense, it was Diwali and he only ever felt safe with my dad.

And once, my dad caught him using a street dog to smuggle meat for him. Bruno is probably one of the very few vegetarian dogs in the world. While we were proud of that fact, he obviously wasn’t. (Don’t worry, he was very healthy and buff. My friends refused to come home because they were scared they’ll get mauled by the ‘lion’.)

Reading all this, I guess you would be leaning toward the bad/worst dog side. My aunt used to say,” He is badly behaved because you never treat him like a pet.”

But the thing is, he decided how he wanted to be treated. He didn’t think of himself different from my sister or me, except maybe that he was above us in the family hierarchy.

I guess he was like my older brother – Arrogant, Annoying and Sweet.

What I didn’t tell you before was, he used to come to me only when he chose to but that somehow coincided perfectly with the times that I needed him. How he knew this, I will never know. But there has never been a time he wasn’t there to console me, either by telling me to pet him or ordering me to give him my food or just by sitting beside me. And I knew things would be fine…

…Except now.

Bruno was born 24th October, 2000, came to us, 23rd December, 2000. He left us on the night of 4th November, 2011. 

May his soul remain arrogant as ever in his next life.

Of things that get lost somewhere along the way

I remember when I was 7 years old, I beat up Dilip because he wouldn’t let me play with his G.I. Joe. When my mother was trying to drag me off his battered form, I vowed that I would get a bigger, better toy. Needless to say there was no toy, forget bigger or better, in the near future ‘until I repent’: my dad’s edict. Crying and pleading didn’t really work when I was sporting bruised knuckles (Damn that kid’s tough skin!) So, I sulked for quite a while. Then my dad, who was thankfully a li'l absentminded, got me that big plastic gun which makes those weird noises, from Japan. The next day I sneaked it out the house in the sack of my schoolbag and flaunted it like a terrorist in Afghanistan. Then of course the usual happened. My teacher took it away because I was disturbing her precious class. My parents got called. The word expulsion was bandied about. My dad of course tried to talk sense into me. But I had my own special dictionary which I relied on. **Fade out**


**Fade in** Next, I got caught stealing a money from home to which my dad threatened to plonk me in the slammer. **Fade out**


**Fade in** The following episode was one where I hit a boy with three scales because he was annoying me. **Fade out**


**Fade in**Then got caught for copying a test. **Fade out**



I wonder now, what happened to that li’l girl. So full of energy and life… I miss her.

Of the Outdoors

Since my last slightly morbid post I have tried to put my life in perspective and, pepper over it some positivity (don’t know if it’s a word, but it seems the best fit). But being an inherently negative person, the positivity is quite minimal. Ergo my grand plans of appreciating the color of the sky, the quirkiness of human-nature, the sound of flying birds and blah… blah… blah… didn’t last longer than a few hours. But as long as it did last, it ended up giving me quite a roaring migraine. And as usual this unique incident led to the reminiscing of the minimal other experiences in my life which of course sprouted forth a few more questions and theories.

1. It’s commonly said and believed, the minute you want to take a photograph of a particularly beautiful moment, and you have already stopped appreciating it. But we always carry our cameras whenever we go on a trip or to a special occasion. Does that mean we don’t want to experience/ appreciate beauty?
2. If it is for the sake of nostalgia, why take a picture of something you’ve already stopped appreciating?
3. Why would a person ridiculously scared of / disgusted by insects (which most of us are) go on a camping trip? I mean you obviously don’t want them in your domain, why go out in theirs’ and then scream bloody murder?
4. Why is it that people are uncommonly excited about getting wet in the rain? I mean how different is it from a shower? If we still end up comparing the two, isn’t a shower better? The water in the shower is not a mildly corrosive acid. You get to frolic without you clothes on. And finally, people don’t gawk at you like you are stupid. It looks to be a no brainer!!!

All these points said, my final conjecture is that I have become too citified for my own liking. So I have decided to pack up my lotions and heavy socks and long pants and go on a nature trip. The primary purpose of course being - the ‘appreciation of nature’ and the secondary being – proving my above theories. I am naturally taking my camera with me… because knowing me, I might just need it.

Of Cows and pastures

It's been a while since I last wrote. Much has happened since then. I've started working... I have my own place... I do what I please, when I please. Nobody to question me... Nobody to stop me. I am living the life I always hoped I would get to live.

... or am I?

It is so true about the pasture being greener on the other side, though I don't particularly understand why whoever came up with this proverb chose this particular metaphor. I mean we are humans right? A much more mentally advanced species. Why compare us with COWS? Of all the slow witted, boring creatures. Don't get me wrong I like cows... the healthy amount that is. But they aren't the most intelligent or awe-inspiring of God's creations. Now that I think about it, a cow wouldn't really abandon available food just because it "feels" that the color of it looks better on the other side of a barbed fence. Why couldn’t he have chosen something like elephants? – Something like “The river is always muddier on the other bank” or lions – “The miniscule bit of flesh that you have let your hardworking wife have seems tastier after you have finished your hunk” (OK that’s a bit too long but you get the drift) I just can’t understand this weird obsession with cows. People sure are peculiar.
Moving on, my life which is supposed to be perfect seems too brown or less muddy or doesn’t taste good. I wonder why? I mean why is it that you are never happy with what you get. It’s ok in books n all when they say this makes you strive for more and keeps away complaisance. But honestly? It just makes me wonder about the point of struggling to achieve anything, when I already know, once I get it I am not gonna like it anymore.

Of a new God

As opposed to my earlier opinion, I had come to the conclusion that inactivity doesn't help creativity. Hence the extended period of the soothing shut eye, the pleasurable sin of gluttony and being a couch spud has just led to a serious condition of brain-deadness. Whoever said ' without action there is no juice' clearly knew what she was talking about! But while my back was in the process of fusing with the couch upholstery and my eyes glued to the tube, my mind did tend to wander.
These are some of the earth shattering revelations I came up with through no conscious effort of my own:

- Why does a dog love to stick his head out a moving car window but tries to maul you when you blow in his face?
Maybe because he can't talk and is very emphatically trying to tell you that you have breath issues and to not come near him unless you brush.

- Now you might wonder how can he act so pious when his breath stinks like nothing ever could?
Well he never does actually blow on your face does he?(Now the wet kiss that you get is an occupational hazard of being a dog's best friend and is clearly stated in the manual)

- Why is it that when you are chasing a lizard out the house that they run toward you?
Sieving through my many theories...1) Maybe because they want to go in the direction right opposite to the exit (reptiles could be stupid that way) 2) Or maybe they are trying to perfect a new psychological ambush program called ' Spook the wuss'. Their previous program 'Leave the tail behind' was definitely a roaring success.

Now you might be wondering what my brilliant theories have to do with the post title. Well i guess that is my most awesome revelation of all. The porcelain god seems to have become obsolete! I am doing better in my current position on the couch and staring a hole through the TV. So meet the new, improved and more comfortable Spud God!
Try it and let me know how it works out.

Of The Institution

I have been living in a rut for the past month or so. What with work having been put to stop by my omnipotent dad and the even more omnipotent college. I keep beating myself up, wondering what kind of insanity made me nod my head meekly to my dad's deriding “I’m not going to sit back and watch you pour my hard earned savings down the drain. Hah! Working and studying indeed. Why don't you try studying for once and we'll talk about working." So here I am going to college everyday and on the way I remember my boss's insightful words " Why don't you stop whining for once and just get your six months of college over with! " and I thought to myself she is right. I am never going to get to enjoy the little things in life once I start full time work. Like sleeping for as long as I want. Having absolutely nothing to do. I thought I can recharge, I can be creative with all the time that I have. Turns out I am not that creative or what creativity I had left in me, got lost in the hangover like feeling you get when you sleep for so long it's like someone took a sledgehammer to your head once you wake up. But I thought 'I will make the effort, even if others have to suffer for it!'
So here I am trying... trying really hard...to think of something I can write that at least makes sense to me.
What I come upon is... College!

Having studied in two different colleges in my life time, one after the other of course with one still going on. I'd like to think I am quite an expert on this subject.

Being from a middle class south Indian family, there were a million rules that had to be followed. It was quite an experience. Having joined a fashion institute instead of the ubiquitous engineering college, I was termed the rebel. I can still remember my mother's crestfallen face which made obvious to anyone willing to look at her face at that time and those disgusted looks which were saved specially for me and dad. But my dad on some courage spurt actually looked her in the eye and said, “You know we have no control over her. Let's give in gracefully and hope to god she doesn't turn into a hippy." But in all fairness to my dad he had done his research well and having satisfied himself that 'it's a good field to work in' he agreed to relieve his purse of that fat lump of cash. Also, the number of contingency scenarios he had planned for me was mind boggling! There was the reassuring " It's a B.Tech, so this is also like engineering" comment followed by everyone's covert are-you-kidding-me looks or the " She is going to be learning about production, so if nothing works out I could always get her to work in my factory" comment followed by My not so covert are-you-kidding -me look or the " She can always open a boutique in the house" comment followed by both mine and my mother's horrified stares. Enough-said, my so called journey on paths never ventured on before was fast turning into 'The Organized-Ville Horror'.

But all that changed when I walked into a stiflingly hot room bursting at the seams with teenagers of all shapes, colors and sizes, wearing the weirdest of ensembles and my dad gave me that grand opening of his 'one minuter', One minute he is standing next me mumbling something about ' Having seen everything in life' and the next minute he is jumping into his already moving car and begging the chauffer to drive faster. So much for overbearing parents!

And thus began the most eventful and fun four years of my life. And I wouldn't change a thing, be it the long push-shove-quibble train journeys followed by deliberately missing the overcrowded buses and then hurling abuses at the auto drivers and then hoping to God he doesn't retaliate or the lectures which always used to start ten minutes before we reached college or the canteen food from which we used to avert our eyes when it was being served by Attendant number 1 who didn't believe in baths or Attendant number 2 who had long nails painted with fuchsia polish and said " All the better to scratch my sweaty armpits dear" or those long pointless talks on the canteen stairs or in the vestibule leading to the teachers' powder room which was cool and windy no matter how high the temperature or those long weekend and nights when everyone would be grappling with those final edges which did not match or the ten millionth ripped seam only to stop and laugh at some ridiculous joke or to dance and sing along to some equally ridiculous song. Though it was not all laughs all the time, even those stupid fights and tears just bring a smile now.

Sitting here in my risk management class, still balking at my dad’s diabolical genius for ripping me off into doing an MBA, I know it will never be like that here. And I have to wonder, will I ever have the same wonderful experiences again? Will I ever find that awesome place which I profess to hate but secretly can’t wait to get to?

And you know what I realize?

I AM OLD!