tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-52180355415809521812024-03-12T21:48:49.981-04:00My Catharsis...Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00416492970175334719noreply@blogger.comBlogger108125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5218035541580952181.post-73161106007868436872015-03-14T18:10:00.000-04:002015-03-14T19:47:42.536-04:00Childspeak on Mother's Day<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<strong><u>Mothers Matter- by Abhiraj Singh (Age10)</u></strong><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Mother's Day is an international event celebrating our Mothers and all that they do for us. Throughout the World many people today gift their Mothers cards, flowers, gifts and even hugs! I am sanguine that many people must be planning to surprise their Mothers today.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">The purpose of Mothers Day is to remind people of the greatness and compassion of Mothers. Our Mothers give us unconditional love and predominantly Life. Without these blessings where would we be? Sometimes we forget about all that our Mothers give us, however on Mothers Day, millions of hardworking, kind and amazing Mothers are recognized for their wonderful deeds in life. Today, on 15th of March we will show our gratitude towards our Mothers. We could express our gratefulness by even simply helping our Mums!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">Depressingly, despite the fact that people know what their Mothers have done for them, they cruelly send their Mothers to homes for the elderly where they maybe mistreated. After several years of happy Mom-time, some heartless people send their Mothers as if she was a package being posted, unnoticed and uncared for. One of the many reasons people send their Mothers off to an elderly home is because they unjustly assume that keeping an old Mother with them is a waste of time, food and money. Although they sound comfy and caring, homes for the elderly in reality can be a sad place to live. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">Primarily elders such as our Moms love us unconditionally and do not under any circumstances want to leave and live away from us.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">Secondly Carers who work for a salary, may handle our frail Mothers roughly and hurt them.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">Finally forcing our Mother to live somewhere uncomfortable and unfamiliar and in a place where anything could happen, is just irresponsible and vicious. Plain vicious!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">Even though some people are unkind towards their Mothers, there are many children who amuse and please their Mothers with tricks and jokes and lots of love.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;">Sadly for those without a Mother, Mothers Day is a painful day, a reminder of their big loss. This is why we, in our not very long life, should take every opportunity to count our blessing that come in a Mother's disguise.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">Personally, and like most children I think my Mum is awesome, perfect and great. She is a great role model. She made a big decision about staying at home to look after me and it has benefitted me. It helps me in my studies, plus it meant I could spend lots of time learning from her and playing and having fun with her. My Mum is the smartest, bravest and the most beautiful person ever. I know she will always love me and I will always love her.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;"> In the end for all Mothers, a Shloka from an ancient Stotra:</span><br />
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<em><strong>Kuputro Jayet, kwachidapi KuMata na bhavati</strong></em><br />
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<strong><em>A Son can be bad, but a bad Mother, can never be.</em></strong><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><strong><u>For My Ma - By Megha Basu (Age 11)</u></strong></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New;">From my heart, I want to say,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New;">For me, you are brighter than the day,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New;">The World would've been so very bare,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New;">Thank you Ma for being there.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New;">You are the one who gave me Life,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New;">Bearing all the pain, hard to describe</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New;">I came to you in the month of November,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New;">Your smell is the first thing I remember.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New;">Ma, my tears give you pain,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New;">When I smile, you smile again,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New;">If I am troubled, you can't sleep,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New;">Sitting beside me you silently weep.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New;">You have been my pillar of strength,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New;">Telling me to fight and rise again,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New;">Honesty is what you have taught me,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New;">That is how I always will be.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New;">Your praises fill me up with joy,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New;">Your trust in me I will never destroy,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New;">I cannot imagine a life without you,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New;">Hold my hand while I pass through.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New;">Your lap is my place to hide,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New;">When I am scared or cast aside,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New;">The World would have been so very bare,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier New;">Thank You Ma for being there.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;"><strong><u>Mummy Oh Mummy!! - Acrostic Poem by Anjika Singh (Age 8)</u></strong></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"> <span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">M y Mummy cares.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">O h Mummy! what would I do without you?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">T he only thing that cheers me up is you.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">H appiness is being with you.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">E verlasting love is what ties us.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">R espect you, I always will.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><strong><u>Letter to My Mummy - By Ira Angre ( Age Almost 9)</u></strong></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">My Dearest Mummy,</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">You are the light of my Life, which shines brighter when you speak. For me you are the World. I love you so much. I love you more than ice-cream. I love you more than anything in the World. I love your cooking. It make me eat more. You shout for my good, so that I can go on the correct path instead of taking the wrong turn. You are also very strict for our good. You brought us up and gave birth to us which we appreciate. You always are concerned for me. You don't want to see me in a bad mood, always a happy smile.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Happy Mother's Day!!!!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">I Love you.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Iru</span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00416492970175334719noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5218035541580952181.post-57290608119304950842015-01-05T20:51:00.000-05:002015-01-05T21:08:45.513-05:00The Grey Eyes beyond the Grey Door<div class="s2" style="font-size: 18px; line-height: 21px;">
<span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">I have walked these alleys for years. </span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">C</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">ool and shady, a welcome reprieve</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;"> in the summer</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">. </span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">Have </span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">quicken</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">ed</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;"> the pace </span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">in winters when they turn windy and freezing</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">. </span></div>
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<span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">Have skipped and hopped to the grey door as a young girl.</span></div>
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<span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">Strutted and sashayed to the same door</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">, as a woman</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">.</span></div>
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<span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">The steps that took me the</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">re, were always eager and happy. They knew they belonged to where they were headed.</span></div>
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<span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">In</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;"> the Old City, is the alley and</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;"> towards the right</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;"> side stands</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;"> a Corridor, </span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">at end of which is </span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">the Grey door</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">.</span></div>
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<span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">The Grey door both in my memories and in real, </span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">creaked on its hinges, and shut with a loud bang, announcing every arrival and departure.</span></div>
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<span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">The Mohalla, felt like my Territory, even though I did not live there. I visited. But the Mohalla was mine because what lay behind the</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;"> Grey Door was mine. And what</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;"> made </span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">it </span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">mine</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;"> was the old Board hanging above it</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;"> with its </span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">bold letters</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;"> in white</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">,</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;"> which were repainted regularly</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">. </span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">The Letters </span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">read</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">: </span></div>
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<span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;"> </span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;"> Shri Rattan Chand Sharma (Retd Tehsildar), </span></div>
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<span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;"> 74 Mohalla Afghana</span></div>
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<span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;"> Pacca danga</span></div>
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<span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;"> Jammu Tawi</span></div>
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<span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">This address used to be our permanent address for all offic</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">ial and legal purposes. W</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">e shifted houses regularly, sometimes across states and once even </span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">across Continents. This Address used to be the one ‘permanent’ in my young life. </span></div>
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<span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">The Person behind this </span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">Address</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;"> was in my List of Most </span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">Handsome</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;"> Men Ever, </span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">somewhere</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;"> along with my Father and Lord Shiva.</span></div>
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<span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">Retd Tehsildar ji</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">, the man of the House,</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;"> fair complexioned, with a thick head of hair and </span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">grey</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;"> compelling eyes</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">,</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;"> commanded attention. Strong, just and extremely kind, he was known to have never raised his voice</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;"> at anyone</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">. His calmness always comforted me and his wisdom made me secure.</span></div>
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<span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">I grew up hearing stories of Retd. Tehsildar ji’s </span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">goodness and the respect he had earned because of it</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">. </span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">Even the little I heard of his personal journey read like a book I would enjoy reading and learning from. His Mother, whom he loved dearly, was famed for her beauty. The stories that were passed down, told of how if she styled her hair one day, she was not allowed to apply kohl to her </span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">eyes. The</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;"> day she applied kohl</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">,</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;"> she was not allowed to wear bright and beautiful clothes.</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;"> Her dazzling beauty was too much to handle for her Matriarch who feared someone would cast an evil eye.</span></div>
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<span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">From Partition, to Indo-P</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">ak Wars playing out, right at Teshsildar ji’s</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;"> backyard, the stories left me agog. </span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">The Wartime incidents of sensitive Border Towns were shock</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">ing. His beloved dog was poisoned by the </span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">‘</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">enemy’ during those troubled days and he never brought another dog home</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">. </span><br />
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<span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">A State</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;"> which has been a playground for personal egos and political ambitions and </span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">where </span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">Minorities</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;"> have been relentlessly persecuted and History hushed and changed, I saw a Man deeply religious and secular in practice till the end. </span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">T</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">hanks to </span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">him I have </span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">never seen a conflic</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">t between</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;"> the two</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">,</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;"> religion and secularism, </span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">either</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;"> in</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;"> theory or practice</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">. The Clarity that strengthened later, started with him.</span></div>
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<span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">He was always humble and polite. Be it when he was with his Guru Maharaj</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">/ Spiritual Teacher</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">, seeking k</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">nowledge or </span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">when he enquired after </span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">the orphaned</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">/fatherless</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;"> </span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">children he helped educate.</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;"></span></div>
<div class="s2" style="font-size: 18px; line-height: 21px;">
<span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">Even in his death he wanted to give more and left instructions for his sons to give away the money which would otherwise be used for Adh-Barkhi and Barkhi (post-death Rituals) to those who really needed it. </span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">He taught us to give and to give with Faith and freely.</span><br />
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<div class="s2" style="font-size: 18px; line-height: 21px;">
<span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">On many an evening</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">, during my summer break, </span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">after dinner I would climb the many stairs, to the little room on the third floor where he would retire to meditate. He would always kindly let me in</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;"> with a little laugh</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;"> and share his blanket and tell me and any other grandchild who had dared to sneak in with me</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">,</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;"> stories of Rishis and Saints, goodness and giving, courage and </span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">action. We would be mesmerized by the sparkle in his beautiful eyes and by the deep baritone</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;"> which was always reassuring</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">. And nothing has come close to the title he conferred upon me of ‘Sant/Saintly bachha’. I am yet to prove him right but hold onto that memory dearly.</span></div>
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<span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">He </span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">along with my Father raised the bar very high for all my potential suitors. The handsome</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;"> grey eyed m</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">an pampered his wife</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">,</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;"> all their married life.</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;"> No one can claim to have heard him raising</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;"> his voice against his dear </span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">wife.</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;"> And even in the last few years when he was losing his memory due to dementia, her illness and discomfort would cause him the most pain. He would pace restlessly till he was assured of her well being.</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;"> He was the perfect gentleman and theirs was the most charming love story.</span></div>
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<span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">The owner of th</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">e Grey Door and what lay beyond, </span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">wa</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">s the patriarch of a Family of seven children</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;"> and many nephews and nieces. The brood only got bigger with marriages and births. The fact that his Daughters are as strong and fiercely independent</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;"> as his </span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">sons</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;"> </span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">is an ode to his upbringing. The knot that keeps this large family together has been painstakingly tied by him. And how much he valued this familial love was clear in his last note to his family</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">,</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;"> asking them to continue to live well and with love for each other.</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;"></span></div>
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<span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">Mine were the first pitter-patter of feet in his life after his own children.</span></div>
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<span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">I always secretly thought I held a special spot</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;"> in his life</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">, which would remain unthreatened.</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;"> I was in for a shock in Nov 2011. </span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">I remember</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;"> flying from London to Jammu for my Cousin’s wedding. The </span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">first evening there,</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;"> I went upt</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">o him to greet him. H</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">is strange </span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">response was bewildering. </span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">Did I dare say that there was no spark of </span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">recognition?</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;"> </span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">This was before others in the family had recognized the dementia</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;"> he suffered fro</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">m in his last years</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">. I was confused and hurt but his presence was more imp</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">ortant than my unrequited</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;"> love. I truly loved him and could chin up and bear any slight coming from him. In fact I spent a lot of time mulling over my </span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">behavior</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;"> and what could have lead to the cold reaction. His diagnosis brought pain and yet some relie</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">f that it was not me but age and ill health that took away my share of love</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">. I stubbornly decided to give him even more love.</span></div>
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<span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">The bond was </span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">special because the Retd Tehsildaar ji, had a dual role in my life. He was not only my Grandfather but quirkily enough could also claim to be my Father. My Parents afte</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">r eight long years of marriage and five</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;"> still born baby boys ran pillar to post to change their childless fate. When the Doctors failed and the Gods refused to be bribed, they were</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;"> desperate enough to resort to someone’s</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;"> idea of selling the Fetus in the womb to my Grandparent</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">s</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">. The logi</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">c behind this incomprehensible idea was that my Grandparents karmic credit would shield me from my parent’s d</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">estiny. So I was sold off for a neat sum of Rs 11 to my Grandparents</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">,</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;"> even as I floated around blissfully in my Mother’s womb. Confident of my Grandparents good Karma my Parents spent that money eating Dosa and dreaming of a future with me in it. </span></div>
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<span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">But during the Navratris in 2014, my 92 year old Grandfather had a bad fall. The blood clot in his brain would become the</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;"> reason </span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">for a myriad thing</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">. There</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;"> was the coming together </span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">of the </span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">famil</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">y</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">. They stood</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;"> more united than ever before. Months of sleepless nights for the family members taking care of him. The way they rose to the occasion, and saw the opportunity to serve and nurse their invalid Patriarch as their good </span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">karma</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;"> is a credit to him.</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;"> I heard of Sisters with young babies travelling to the hometown and breaking down upon seeing him. I heard of great grandchildren comforting my Grandmother in their baby lingo.</span></div>
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<span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">I heard of regular trips to hometown by brother and cousins during Diwali become primarily about Nanaji.</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;"> I later saw boys in the Family become Men.</span></div>
<div class="s2" style="font-size: 18px; line-height: 21px;">
<span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">And I heard all from afar. And I prayed. When they told me</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;"> he needed to go and he </span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">should get ‘mukti’ I shivered. </span></div>
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<span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">In 2011 he hurt me when he failed to recognize me. Would he leave me heartbroken and guilty by leaving before I saw him? I was torn between wanting release for him and wanting deliverance for me. </span></div>
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<span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">In the end, like always,he proved bigger. I left </span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">for India </span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">on 5</span><span class="s4" style="font-size: 7px; line-height: 8px; vertical-align: super;">th</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;"> Dec. Was at his bedside on the</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;"> 6</span><span class="s4" style="font-size: 7px; line-height: 8px; vertical-align: super;">th</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">.</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;"> I stroked his for</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">head and begged forgiveness for my own selfishness. I had a conversation with him in my head and I knew he heard me</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">,</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;"> although he lay unresponsive. I told him I had kept a count and </span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">noted that </span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">everybody had come and seen him. All his children were with him an</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">d all the Grandchildren had been with</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;"> him. I was the last one to see him.</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;"> I told him</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">, that I knew</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;"> he was waiting for me.</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;"> And here I was</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">, his eldest Grandchild. I told him he may go now.</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;"> I promised we would try and uphold the things dear to him and assured him that he need not worry about his wife of 67 years. He had taught us well. I know so many from the Family must have had similar conversations with him but this was mine. And I am thankful to him and God that I could have it.</span></div>
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<span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">I said the same things to him on the 15</span><span class="s4" style="font-size: 7px; line-height: 8px; vertical-align: super;">th</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">, the last day I spent with him before I left to see my InLaws.</span></div>
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<span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;"> In the early hours of 21</span><span class="s4" style="font-size: 7px; line-height: 8px; vertical-align: super;">st</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">, he left, to start another journey. </span></div>
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<span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">The grey d</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">oor still stands but the grey eyes are gone.</span><span class="s3" style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;"> But I have seen some of what and how, they saw. I also see some of their wisdom and kindness passed on. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 14px;">The Tree is gone but the roots remain, holding the Earth together. </span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00416492970175334719noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5218035541580952181.post-156981718251818802014-12-04T13:07:00.001-05:002014-12-04T17:36:59.427-05:00That Time of The YearThat time of the year. <br />
The Heart becomes more alive than usual.<br />
It swells and shrinks. <br />
It beats faster and hurts harder.<br />
It is always on the edge.<br />
Ready to burst with joy or break with ache.<br />
<br />
The Nation.<br />
The Heart shouts Home.<br />
The sounds, smells, and all that noise.<br />
The Heart recognizes, sometimes vexed and sometimes joyous.<br />
The Language.<br />
Like a Lover whispering in the ear.<br />
The Heart is smug.<br />
The anticipation building.<br />
The Heart embraces, like a secret love.<br />
<br />
The only time an unsure flyer, will look out of the window.<br />
The Heart is brave.<br />
The Himalayas receding in the horizon, and Tawi springing to life in all its serpentine glory.<br />
The Hearts beats, but you stop breathing.<br />
Every Christmas, Santa flies over the majestic Ganga, leaving gifts for the children.<br />
Heart says Life is Magical.<br />
<br />
That Morning, waking up to the Parents pottering about.<br />
The Heart hears and is a young girl once again.<br />
The abandon of the child, when with the Parents.<br />
The Heart is lazy and free.<br />
<br />
When handsome young brothers bow down to touch your feet.<br />
The Heart rises with pride.<br />
The hugs from the Womenfolk in the family.<br />
The Heart forgets the chill and grey.<br />
The Unconditional Love.<br />
The Heart grows arrogant.<br />
<br />
Children blossoming in the sunlight of absolute adulation.<br />
The Heart is warm.<br />
The gossiping and whispering late into the night with the Sisters.<br />
The Heart is lighter and laughs.<br />
The adoring Nieces and Nephews.<br />
The Heart is young and sings.<br />
<br />
The Village Temple, by the River but without <em>Dadi</em>, shedding tears, as she would watch us leave till she could see us no more.<br />
The Heart remembers.<br />
Every year the Parents look older, frail and more vulnerable.<br />
The Heart is afraid.<br />
The ailing Grandfather.<br />
The Heart breaks.<br />
<br />
A few weeks.<br />
The Heart feels everything.<br />
Intensely. <br />
It feels both strong and weak.<br />
And then the Heart embraces Hope, as it leaves.<br />
Till it returns.<br />
<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00416492970175334719noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5218035541580952181.post-65891294938796520532014-03-07T08:10:00.000-05:002014-03-07T08:10:37.388-05:00The Underbelly Part 2As a couple of months went by the horror and tragedy of the impact and the consequences of sexual slavery became clearer to me. The assumptions and beliefs I previously held about the women in prostitution altered dramatically.<br />
Lets tackle the obvious questions anyone would have who is not familiar with the issue of sex trafficking.<br />
How many are really forced/tricked into this form of slavery?<br />
To my best knowledge almost all of them are in some way or the other duped or coerced into prostitution. In the 2.5 years of my field work I did not come across a single woman who willingly chose this line of 'work'. If I could do justice in describing the degrading and appalling conditions they live in all doubts would be erased. Well the ones whom you can say get into prostitution willingly are usually the daughters of the women in prostitution(I will call them WIP). But they join this 'profession' not because of its prospects but because of a total lack of alternatives.<br />
I remember an 8 yr. old girl, a daughter of a WIP, telling me that she wanted to be a Gharwali (the madam or the brothel keeper) when she grows up. This was because she knew no better. She had no role models to look up to. She knew no other life. In her eyes the most powerful person was the gharwali who had financial freedom and who had means to control the lives of women like her own mother. There are other forms of prostitution like call girl rackets and beer bar girls but that is a different category. These forms of prostitution are also extremely exploitative.<br />
Is it really all that difficult to come out of this situation?<br />
Well first lets examine how most of these girls ended up in the red light area. <br />
1. N was a happy 10 yrs. old living in some remote impoverished village in Nepal.She has 5 more siblings. One probably suffering from TB. If they are lucky they eat twice a day. She used to go to a village school, but had to stop because of a paucity of funds. Days of going without food and the worsening condition of her brother who is afflicted with TB, forces her parents to sell her to a lady who promises to get her employment as a worker in a carpet factory in Kathmandu or as a domestic help in Mumbai. She travels by foot, bus and finally train to Mumbai. And is sold into a brothel for Rs 10000.<br />
2. B is a 17 yr old from a village in Andhra Pradesh. Her father, a cotton farmer committed suicide because of increasing debt and falling revenues. There are 5 mouths to feed. So our brave young B decides to go to Mumbai to some acquaintance who could get her a job. She is illiterate and is travelling outside her village for the first time. She meets a friendly woman in the train just before arriving in Mumbai who looks at the address and tells her she lives in the same neighborhood and offers to take her there. She is brought to Kamathipura and sold.<br />
3. D fell in love and decided to elope with her lover. The lover promises her marriage. She runs away to Mumbai with him, dreaming about marriage and domestic bliss. She is brought to Kamathipura and is sold and she never sees her lover again.<br />
4. P gets into prostitution because her mother is a prostitute. She knows no other life. She was born in the brothels. We call this inter-generational prostitution.<br />
5. M remembers going to the village fair somewhere in Jharkhand with her family. The next thing she knows she is drugged, thrown into a sack, and then dumped onto the back of a truck. She is brought to Mumbai. She is sold and since she is only 8 yrs old, she fetches a really good price.<br />
6.There was a particular peculiar arrangement that I saw in Grant Road. That of Bangladeshi WIP. They were living in the brothels with their families , husbands included. I found out that these women would service clients in the night, while their husband played cards in one of the many eating places nearby. During the daytime the women would sleep and the husbands would cook and look after the children. The would stay in Mumbai for 6 to 8 months, make enough money to go back to their villages. They would be back in Mumbai with their wives, and sisters,once they ran out of all their savings. Well I know the woman had no say in this arrangement and this was not a result of mutual consent.<br />
7.L was a devdasi in a village in Karnataka. When the priests of the temple tire of her, she is sold to a Mumbai brothel. This consort of the Gods is no luckier than the others. <br />
Could they not run away from the brothels?<br />
When she arrives at the brothel she refuses to obey the gharwali. She is locked up in a small room.Starved, beaten, tortured. This continues for days. If she refuses to give in, she is finally drugged and repeatedly raped. She is raped by more than 5 men in one night. Virginity is much in demand. After months of this torture she gives in and is moved to a room in the brothel. She cannot read or write.She does not understand the language. She is not allowed to leave the brothel. Gharwali has goons to watch over her. Crushed chillies being rubbed onto her private parts is one of the many threats she hears day and night.As a girl told me she spent her first year begging every man she was forced to sleep with to help her escape. One of her regular customers was a policeman.<br />
By the second year the girl is battered, and diseased. Her spirit is irreversibly crushed and she is ashamed and afraid to go back to her village for now she is 'dirty'. Some part of her still hopes to go back one day and resolves to do whatever it will take. Which is paying back the money the gharwali paid to buy her. This is not easy to do. She gets only Rs. 50 per customer. She also has to pay for her lodging, food, clothes and medicines. Add to this the interest on the principal amount, freedom is one distant dream. I never heard of any happy endings.<br />
Some brave and lucky ones did manage to escape thanks to the occasional police raids. But the happiness is short lived. Once her family back in the village realizes where she has been she is beaten, disowned and thrown out. She returns to the only thing she knows.<br />
Her destiny was never hers to make.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00416492970175334719noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5218035541580952181.post-67409109199517725352013-10-02T15:08:00.000-04:002013-10-02T15:08:07.115-04:00If I Cannot Find, I live to be Found
<br />
<br />
<span style="color: red;">Today is the day. Today I get up, and wake my son. I
make sure he is dressed and fed. Today is the day when I hug him tight and kiss
his beautiful face, not once, not twice but over and over again. Today is the
day when, as I say good bye I feel my heart break. The pain so fierce I think I
might die. And I am surprised that I did not... did not die. When I see him
walk away, I want to scream and shout, feral in my pain and fear. I want to
hold him back. Tell him to stop and stay. But today is the day, I will not. I
will bid him farewell and watch him till I can't see him anymore. Yes
today is the day when I will live knowing I might never set my eyes upon him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I will not know where and how he is. I have
wondered if not knowing is worse than death and yet I cannot see life snuffed
out of the child I brought into this world. I have to choose and I must
protect. So today I will watch my heart walk out of my body. My soul will never
be the same again. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: red;"><o:p> </o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: red;">But, I will live in the hope that my heart will find
its way back to where it belongs.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<o:p> </o:p><br />
<br />
<span style="color: blue;">I am angry and I am very afraid. I leave my Mother,
my house, and everything I know. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I leave fear behind but the unknown and more
fear await me. How do I walk away from the woman who taught me to walk, maybe
to never return? Uncle speaks of a wonderful world beyond those </span><st1:place><span style="color: blue;">Blue Mountains</span></st1:place><span style="color: blue;">.
But the voice inside me shouts that, that is a lie. For there can be no place
on earth, more beautiful than my village. I want to pick fruit and climb trees
in the apple orchard...one last time. I want to run to the Madarsa and
clasp the gnarled hands of the friendly Imam....one last time. A game
of football with Khalid in the fields behind the graveyard...one last time.
Pull my sister Shazia's pigtails…one last time. Why did I miss school and spend
time plotting and planning my next mischief, with my friends, under the almond
tree? If I had not, maybe then I could stay. I should have fetched water for
Mother and helped Shazia collect firewood. Maybe then, they would let me stay.
I have prayed and promised Allah that I will be a good boy. But Allah is really
mad at me, for today, I will have to leave. They tell me I must leave to save
my life. My roots severed, I do not know how I will fly.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: blue;"><o:p> </o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: blue;">But, I will live in the hope that if I cannot find,
I will be found.</span><br />
<span style="color: blue;"></span><br />
<span style="color: blue;"> </span><br />
<span style="color: blue;"></span><br />
<span style="color: blue;"></span><br />
<span style="color: blue;"></span><br />
<span style="color: blue;"><span style="color: #f3f3f3;">Inspired by the Human Stories of courage,tragedy, survival and hope, I see and hear at my work at International Family Tracing, British Red Cross.</span> <a href="http://www.redcross.org.uk/What-we-do/Finding-missing-family/International-family-tracing">http://www.redcross.org.uk/What-we-do/Finding-missing-family/International-family-tracing</a></span><br />
<br />
<o:p> </o:p><br />
<br />
<o:p> </o:p><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<o:p> </o:p></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00416492970175334719noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5218035541580952181.post-30571224112033084362013-08-28T10:30:00.000-04:002013-08-28T11:15:04.688-04:00A and A Celebrating Janamashtami<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQtUe9M_XmnZj-LzGZDLwYLrO31gC2Fn73l1YbUFplAzqU5CY8XBwKZ8OoXA_lpu5XYhACj5nGY4Q65Tckwm-SyeBEtKG8EiQFC_xgim05X0WHlMPuzF2GcxAnQxM1ylgSuxjbY9YApHc/s1600/IMG_7986.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQtUe9M_XmnZj-LzGZDLwYLrO31gC2Fn73l1YbUFplAzqU5CY8XBwKZ8OoXA_lpu5XYhACj5nGY4Q65Tckwm-SyeBEtKG8EiQFC_xgim05X0WHlMPuzF2GcxAnQxM1ylgSuxjbY9YApHc/s200/IMG_7986.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>
Janamashtami, the festival which celebrates the birth of Lord Krishna is truly a special day. His life, his message is for all humanity. Shree Krishna was dear to young and old alike.<br />
My own A and A are big fans of Shri Krishna, reading and re-reading stories of his life. They started their day, this Janamashtami by thinking about Shree Krishna's life and his message. <br />
Here is their take on Shree Krishna's life and message :<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLiUfkh3b1wh4-v7p-37MsZg3SF4xs6uHgtDYZAGkH2UVciUvI5H4pSw0Ndo23cHUN3DcXMqP8_4OTV0LbzDCdw-NimgBVxVvXW_29p2LgHHAhV97O8FEJV1vA77fI6wHspEWZG6mVWHU/s1600/IMG_0864.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLiUfkh3b1wh4-v7p-37MsZg3SF4xs6uHgtDYZAGkH2UVciUvI5H4pSw0Ndo23cHUN3DcXMqP8_4OTV0LbzDCdw-NimgBVxVvXW_29p2LgHHAhV97O8FEJV1vA77fI6wHspEWZG6mVWHU/s200/IMG_0864.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>
<em><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Today it is Janamashtami. It is a birthday of a special avatar and his name is Krishna. His birthday is mostly celebrated on August. He is a very special avatar to us. </span></em><br />
<em><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">One scary part of his life is, that there was an evil snake called Kalia. Whenever someone came to drink water from Yamuna River everyone got poisoned and died.</span></em><br />
<em><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">His Uncle Kansa was so mean and greedy that Krishna had to kill him.</span></em><br />
<em><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Another incident was stealing Makhan(butter). Krishna did not steal Makhan, for no reason. It was for a very good reason. He did it because everyone was giving the butter to Kansa and not to the children.</span></em><br />
<em><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Another incident of his life was that he had a friend called Sudama. Krishna saw so much love in Sudama, that he gave his own palace to him. </span></em><br />
<em></em><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<em><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">If we love God, he will give us everything.</span></em><br />
<em><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Happy Janamashtami to All of You.</span></em><br />
<br />
<strong>By Little A ( 6 yrs)</strong><br />
<strong></strong><br />
<strong></strong><br />
<strong></strong><br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWh2VSHeHIf5HswhCoP2yJAX8b-ddeLC6wO1WEk11WZDlwsC57fQS-wfUre_VdU9vLGaJBO2_MZIqsPmA-AU48FWwq5i3VOdaY-dHWhXSlAtYcdstd3Pt3pvm66xJzqLFMOBSYOpSUoxo/s1600/IMG_0866.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWh2VSHeHIf5HswhCoP2yJAX8b-ddeLC6wO1WEk11WZDlwsC57fQS-wfUre_VdU9vLGaJBO2_MZIqsPmA-AU48FWwq5i3VOdaY-dHWhXSlAtYcdstd3Pt3pvm66xJzqLFMOBSYOpSUoxo/s200/IMG_0866.JPG" width="200" /></a><em><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Today it is a special day. It is Janamashtami. Janamashtami is the day Krishna was born. Krishna was a great person and he did great things in life to teach us how to live our lives. </span></em><br />
<em><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Krishna was an Avatar and his message to us is mainly : That if we are united, together we can destroy evil and make a change in the world.</span></em><br />
<em><span style="font-family: Verdana;"></span></em><br />
<em><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Here is an example of an incident in his life: Pootna was a demon, Kansa had sent to kill Krishna. Pootna disguised herself into a village woman. Krishna was very young and cute at that time. Pootna reached Krishna's house. Somehow she got a chance to be alone with Krishna, but Krishna sensed danger. She already had her breast smeared with poison. However Pootna was no comparison for Krishna. Young Krishna suckled at her breast and Pootna died. This teaches us that whatever form danger comes in, be alert and face it.</span></em><br />
<em><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span></em><br />
<em><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">When Krishna was a boy , he was very mischievous. He used to steal Makhna/ Butter from the Gopis houses. Although he had a reason. The reason was that everyday the Gopis had to sell the Makhan in Mathura. So Krishna's friends barely got any butter, curd or milk to eat and drink. So Krishna taught everyone that children need to play and eat well too.</span></em><br />
<em><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span></em><br />
<em><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">There is another event that took place in Krishna's life. . Kansa was an evil man. Krishna was his biggest enemy. Kansa was also Krishna's Mama. So did Krishna not fight? No! he was brave and vanquished his Uncle. This teaches us even if someone close to us is spreading evil in the society, we still have to fight them. </span></em><br />
<em><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span></em><br />
<em><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Another event which teaches us a lot involves Arjun. Arjun before the Battle of Kurukshetra. Both Arjun and Duryodhan were at Krishna's Palace. Krishna said Duryodhan and Arjun had a choice. They could choose between him and a million soldiers. Arjun immediately answered ," I don't want a million soldiers, I just want you". Duryodhan thought a million soldiers was better and later lost.</span></em><br />
<em><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">This teaches you to have Faith in God. If God is on your side, you will win.</span></em><br />
<em><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span></em><br />
<em><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Lastly, Arjun was on the battlefield and the battle was about to start. But Arjun's hands were trembling. The thought of fighting his Uncles and cousins scared him. Then Krishna sang the 'Bhagvad Geeta' and all his fears went. He bravely fought and Krishna remained his great friend.</span></em><br />
<em><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span></em><br />
<em><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">There is also one more thing to remember: Life is like a Game, you win some and lose some, but you should never give up.</span></em><br />
<em><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span></em><br />
<em><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Happy Janamashtami!</span></em><br />
<br />
<br />
<strong>By Big A ( Turning 9 next month )</strong><br />
<strong></strong><br />
<strong></strong><br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00416492970175334719noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5218035541580952181.post-16141094406441937892013-08-23T13:05:00.000-04:002013-08-23T13:48:05.742-04:00Celebrating Goodness in the Face of EvilIncidents like today and those others, which do not credit any media coverage, test my faith and resolve. My dear friend, a strong, intelligent and independent woman told me, that this is one of the reasons, why she is averse to celebrating our Country's Independence. You my friend, say that the city and the Nation have no heart. We have been long dead.<br />
<br />
I agree with you, not because I am a woman who knows what it is to have her personal space violated. Who as a young girl has strategized how to ward off advances of men like 'Shakti Kapoor' the personification of the Bad Man in a 9yr Old's mind, who had seen enough Bollywood movies and seen enough of life, as it was around her. <br />
<br />
There is no debating your anger. It is rightly placed. You have rightly said that we have anarchy in the name of State. I am angry too. I am furious and frustrated. And as a Mother and a Mother of a precious girl child, I have never known fear or worry, the way I know it now.<br />
<br />
I agree with everything you say, my friend. But one. <br />
I refuse to, NOT, celebrate men and women who gave their blood and sweat for this Land. They developed a beautiful Civilization and an amazing Culture. Agasti, Vishwamitra, Vashishtha, Gargi, Vallabhacharya, Chanakya, Adi Shankracharya etc. are names that have a body of work behind them which gives me goose bumps. They inspire me and give me direction. <br />
And later on the men and women who fought the war of Freedom, so that this Country could be free to further strengthen this Culture and take the message of love for humanity and all Creation, far and wide. I WILL celebrate them. <br />
<br />
This is the Land of Great Men and Women and Sages and Avatars. And though my resolve is being tested and I fear it will take a further beating, I will try not to not bow down. I will not let cultural and moral bankruptcy and pure evil obliterate the majestic work of many. <br />
<br />
Its takes hundreds of years to develop a Civilization and shape a Culture. And it can fall apart in just a few years. We have been falling apart for many, many years now. We are riding the wave of breakdown, anarchy and chaos of every kind.<br />
<br />
Today is not the day when I will ruminate on why's and how's. I am not even going to think on solutions. Because the solution is clear in my mind but its not instant or legal or administrative.<br />
I am not looking to blame anyone today, because there are too many actors in this play.<br />
<br />
But undoubtedly, this Battle between the Good and Evil, Right and Wrong is age old. There have been Narakasurs and Ravanas, who did what they did, because they wanted to and because they could. Till they were stopped. <br />
The Evil is stronger in this Yuga undoubtedly. But as a great Man and my greatest inspiration said, it is my chance to prove my mettle. Because I am going to be tested the most today, as a believer in the Good and Right. I will choose the Right side and do my bit in this Battle. I have chosen and want to walk the Path of Karmayog. I am going to try, to not speak the language of inaction, failure and pessimism. I will try to transform my anger to Right Action. I will try, and try harder.<br />
<br />
Hence dear friend, I will celebrate goodness and greatness in the face of this greatest evil. Because some maybe dead but you and I are not. We must continue to live and act.<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00416492970175334719noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5218035541580952181.post-73446305384876940722013-08-12T14:42:00.000-04:002013-08-12T14:42:11.776-04:00An Open Letter to Jenaab Omar Abdullah<br />
<br />
<br />
Honorable CM Sahib, Jenaab Omar Abdullah ji ,<br />
<br />
We are so glad that you finally dragged yourself away from tweeting. Understandably it must also be very difficult to stop ruminating over Kohli's decision to not let Parvez Rasool play the just concluded ODI series against Zimbabwe. But we are glad you moved on.<br />
<br />
We the people of the Jammu Region, the minority, are elated that you are finally attempting to take stock of the 'situation' in Kishtwar. And are praying that Cricket, Tweeting or any such thing will not distract you from your job. Sir in my correspondence I will refer to the people of the Jammu Region which includes 10 Districts (Jammu, Kathua, Samba, Udhampur, Kishtwar, Doda, Rajouri, Poonch, Ramban and Reasi) as Jammuites to be fair and inclusive of all the Ethnic Identities...Dogras, Kishtwaris, Bhaderwahis, Kashmiri Pandits, Poonchis etc.<br />
<br />
The people of the region as you might know, were already upset about the LOC ceasefire violations by our neighbor. The icing on the cake was the divided, and embarrassing reaction and the crude insensitive remarks about the incident by your political fraternity. The Kishtwar incident just further pushes us into the corner.<br />
<br />
Your colleague Mr. Azad claimed in an interview to DD, that Kishtwar is one of the most peaceful districts in the state. True it is the land of Saffron and Sufis. But though the Saffron is still there, the Sufis have long gone. If I may remind Respectd Azadji, the Sufis have been replaced by home and 'across the border' grown terrorists and foreign mercenaries. As reported by many minorities from the region the city is always tensed, ahead of Eid. This known fact, definitely demanded more preparedness by the local administration.<br />
<br />
You have gone on record saying “…As to how the situation developed, whether there were any administrative lapses, and if there were any lapses, who were responsible, and swift action will follow. Does this mean you assure us of the sacking of the Local MLA and State Minister of Home Sajjad Kitchloo for his very disturbing and conniving role in the carnage in Kishtwar. <br />
<br />
The Local administration and the Police who stood by and allegedly aided the miscreants as the minority were being persecuted, must be booked. Sir, friends and relatives from Kishtwar are saying that the Police let enough time pass, before acting, hence allowing massive property damage. This definitely demands a high level investigation. The early reports stated, the injured being shifted to hospitals in other Districts as the local hospital refused to admit them. This news makes us very sad Jenaab.<br />
<br />
I read somewhere that you asked who are these people who are protesting. Well Jenaab with some consternation and honesty we admit, that it is mostly us Jammuites who were and are protesting against the violence in Kistwar. But then someone had to. <br />
The National media was busy reporting the trade verdict of 'Chennai Express'. Most of us love SRK Jenaab, but we love our bretherens from the Jammu Region too. So we chose to stand by them in their moment of crisis. We protest because we are scared and angry and want justice. <br />
<br />
Sir, a 74 year old, who returned to the land of his ancestors, after a lifetime of hard work outside the state, is being advised to buy property in Delhi or Chandigarh, because the minorities fear that in 6-7 years Jammu Region would turn into Kashmir. Far-fetched? But its common knowledge Sir, we still await the rightful return of the Kashmiri Pandits. <br />
We must share this with you, that the rumors going around amongst the minorities, suggest that this is just the beginning of the second act of Ethnic Cleansing. Many of us disagree, for though we are a minority, we are pretty stoic and are going no where. But it is also true that the fast changing demography of the State is because of forced migration. Migration arising due to such incidents and an atmosphere of fear and persecution.<br />
<br />
Jenaab our people are angry. We pay our taxes, cast our vote and vow our allegiance to the State and the Nation. We proudly fly the Indian Flag, yet we have no voice and are almost invisible. We have been for a long time treated as that poor cousin, the unwanted house guest, who is humiliated and starved into fleeing the home<br />
<br />
Sir you said some political parties take advantage and polarize such situations. You have hit the bulls eye Sir. This is what, always happens. It becomes a free for all. A 'Chance pe Dance Kar Le'...for all. We would humbly suggest, that you kindly make a note of that and next time in such an event make sure that there is a prompt, effective, and fair intervention by the State Government. Declaring Curfew at 12 pm and imposing it at 8pm, was not a very smart decision even by a long stretch.<br />
We condemn the stray incidents of communal violence that followed, and feel that they were completely avoidable if the state Machinery had behaved differently.<br />
<br />
Jenaab you have sprung into action by clamping curfew in 8 out 10 Districts of Jammu Region, preventing media from reporting, and have cut off mobile internet. You have not allowed the opposition from visiting Kishtwar. You said the local Administration in such situations make decisions to allow media, political leaders and others in the troubled areas. As well wishers, we must tell you that this is seemingly undemocratic. We suspect, you have your good reasons but this also does not seem fair, Sir.<br />
In the Valley, whenever Geelani Uncle gets mad and wants support, his good friend Arundhati Roy flies past the Jammu Region and stands by him. An otherwise intelligent lady Ms. Roy, sadly, does not like us people of the Jammu Region. We have a sneaking suspicion Sir, that her friend Geelani Uncle has lead her to believe we do not exist.<br />
<br />
You stopped Mr. Arun Jaitley, Mr Soz and Mehbooba Didi from visiting Kistwar. Why did you do that? It does not help your cause, for you should have nothing to hide.We are so desperate for attention, we Jammuites, since nobody wants to talk to us, we would have happily allowed anyone for a cup of Desi Chai and a word of empathy.<br />
<br />
We have some other very important piece of news for you. Amongst the Jammuites, Narendra Modi, is gaining popularity, as fast as the Indian Rupee is losing its value. He it seems had heard of the Kishtwar incindent and remembered to speak for us even as he prepared to address his very important and big rally in Hyderabad. Sadly Sir, nobody else did.<br />
<br />
Jenaab Omar Sahib, the young people from Jammu Region are afraid to talk about the incident on social networking sites now, because they fear a backlash and even arrest. If they could, they would tell the Nation, that the loss of life and damage to property is much more than being shown on National Media.<br />
<br />
We are a simple and gentle people, us Jammuites. You have suspended the Machail Mata Yatra, the Buddha Amaranth Yatra and the Amarnath Yatra, which are very important for us, but we will live. In fact we are doing all, to make things easy for the Yatris/Pilgrims who are stuck in different base Camps. <br />
But we hope in return, that we do not have to remind you, to do the needful. We expect appropriate compensation to the victims, a probe into the incident and holding responsible both miscreants and Civil Authorities including, your Minister of State Sajjad Kitchloo, for the dastardly acts.<br />
<br />
Jenaab Omar Abdullah, the Jammu Region, is rooted in a culture of love, tolerance, and co-existence. Since we are peace loving, you do not have to remind us to maintain peace. But we also have a strong Martial Tradition and can stand up for our Rights. So do not test our patience and most certainly do not take us for granted.<br />
<br />
<br />
Yours Truly,<br />
Concerned Minority - The People of the Jammu Region.<br />
<br />
P.S: The Word Minority is demeaning and not our favourite way to describe ourselves, but it does seem to have an attention grabbing quality and hence its factual but liberal use.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00416492970175334719noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5218035541580952181.post-55911993537926264112013-08-11T22:12:00.000-04:002013-08-12T03:58:29.843-04:00An Open Letter to Jenaab Omar Abdullah<br />
<br />
<br />
Honorable CM Sahib, Jenaab Omar Abdullah ji ,<br />
<br />
We are so glad that you finally dragged yourself away from tweeting. Understandably it must also be very difficult to stop ruminating over Kohli's decision to not let Parvez Rasool play the just concluded ODI series against Zimbabwe. But we are glad you moved on.<br />
<br />
We the people of the Jammu Region, the minority, are elated that you are finally attempting to take stock of the 'situation' in Kishtwar. And are praying that Cricket, Tweeting or any such thing will not distract you from your job. Sir in my correspondence I will refer to the people of the Jammu Region which includes 10 Districts (Jammu, Kathua, Samba, Udhampur, Kishtwar, Doda, Rajouri, Poonch, Ramban and Reasi) as Jammuites to be fair and inclusive of all the Ethnic Identities...Dogras, Kishtwaris, Bhaderwahis, Kashmiri Pandits, Poonchis etc.<br />
<br />
The people of the region as you might know, were already upset about the LOC ceasefire violations by our neighbor. The icing on the cake was the divided, and embarrassing reaction and the crude insensitive remarks about the incident by your political fraternity. The Kishtwar incident just further pushes us into the corner.<br />
<br />
Your colleague Mr. Azad claimed in an interview to DD, that Kishtwar is one of the most peaceful districts in the state. True it is the land of Saffron and Sufis. But though the Saffron is still there, the Sufis have long gone. If I may remind Respectd Azadji, the Sufis have been replaced by home and 'across the border' grown terrorists and foreign mercenaries. As reported by many minorities from the region the city is always tensed, ahead of Eid. This known fact, definitely demanded more preparedness by the local administration.<br />
<br />
You have gone on record saying “…As to how the situation developed, whether there were any administrative lapses, and if there were any lapses, who were responsible, and swift action will follow. Does this mean you assure us of the sacking of the Local MLA and State Minister of Home Sajjad Kitchloo for his very disturbing and conniving role in the carnage in Kishtwar. <br />
<br />
The Local administration and the Police who stood by and allegedly aided the miscreants as the minority were being persecuted, must be booked. Sir, friends and relatives from Kishtwar are saying that the Police let enough time pass, before acting, hence allowing massive property damage. This definitely demands a high level investigation. The early reports stated, the injured being shifted to hospitals in other Districts as the local hospital refused to admit them. This news makes us very sad Jenaab.<br />
<br />
I read somewhere that you asked who are these people who are protesting. Well Jenaab with some consternation and honesty we admit, that it is mostly us Jammuites who were and are protesting against the violence in Kistwar. But then someone had to. <br />
The National media was busy reporting the trade verdict of 'Chennai Express'. Most of us love SRK Jenaab, but we love our bretherens from the Jammu Region too. So we chose to stand by them in their moment of crisis. We protest because we are scared and angry and want justice. <br />
<br />
Sir, a 74 year old, who returned to the land of his ancestors, after a lifetime of hard work outside the state, is being advised to buy property in Delhi or Chandigarh, because the minorities fear that in 6-7 years Jammu Region would turn into Kashmir. Far-fetched? But its common knowledge Sir, we still await the rightful return of the Kashmiri Pandits. <br />
We must share this with you, that the rumors going around amongst the minorities, suggest that this is just the beginning of the second act of Ethnic Cleansing. Many of us disagree, for though we are a minority, we are pretty stoic and are going no where. But it is also true that the fast changing demography of the State is because of forced migration. Migration arising due to such incidents and an atmosphere of fear and persecution.<br />
<br />
Jenaab our people are angry. We pay our taxes, cast our vote and vow our allegiance to the State and the Nation. We proudly fly the Indian Flag, yet we have no voice and are almost invisible. We have been for a long time treated as that poor cousin, the unwanted house guest, who is humiliated and starved into fleeing the home<br />
<br />
Sir you said some political parties take advantage and polarize such situations. You have hit the bulls eye Sir. This is what, always happens. We would humbly suggest, that you kindly make a note of that and next time in such an event make sure that there is a prompt, effective, and fair intervention by the State Government. Declaring Curfew at 12 pm and imposing it at 8pm, was not a very smart decision even by a long stretch.<br />
We condemn the stray incidents of communal violence that followed, and feel that they were completely avoidable if the state Machinery had behaved differently.<br />
<br />
Jenaab you have sprung into action by clamping curfew in 8 out 10 Districts of Jammu Region, preventing media from reporting, and have cut off mobile internet. You have not allowed the opposition from visiting Kishtwar. You said the local Administration in such situations make decisions to allow media, political leaders and others in the troubled areas. As well wishers, we must tell you that this is seemingly undemocratic. We suspect, you have your good reasons but this also does not seem fair, Sir.<br />
In the Valley, whenever Geelani Uncle gets mad and wants support, his good friend Arundhati Roy flies past the Jammu Region and stands by him. An otherwise intelligent lady Ms. Roy, sadly, does not like us people of the Jammu Region. We have a sneaking suspicion Sir, that her friend Geelani Uncle has lead her to believe we do not exist.<br />
<br />
You stopped Mr. Arun Jaitley, Mr Soz and Mehbooba Didi from visiting Kistwar. Why did you do that? It does not help your cause, for you should have nothing to hide.We are so desperate for attention, we Jammuites, since nobody wants to talk to us, we would have happily allowed anyone for a cup of Desi Chai and a word of empathy.<br />
<br />
We have some other very important piece of news for you. Amongst the Jammuites, Narendra Modi, is gaining popularity, as fast as the Indian Rupee is losing its value. He it seems had heard of the Kishtwar incindent and remembered to speak for us even as he prepared to address his very important and big rally in Hyderabad. Sadly Sir, nobody else did.<br />
<br />
Jenaab Omar Sahib, the young people from Jammu Region are afraid to talk about the incident on social networking sites now, because they fear a backlash and even arrest. If they could, they would tell the Nation, that the loss of life and damage to property is much more than being shown on National Media.<br />
<br />
We are a simple and gentle people, us Jammuites. You have suspended the Machail Mata Yatra, the Buddha Amaranth Yatra and the Amarnath Yatra, which are very important for us, but we will live. In fact we are doing all, to make things easy for the Yatris/Pilgrims who are stuck in different base Camps. <br />
But we hope in return, that we do not have to remind you, to do the needful. We expect appropriate compensation to the victims, a probe into the incident and holding responsible both miscreants and Civil Authorities including, your Minister of State Sajjad Kitchloo, for the dastardly acts.<br />
<br />
Jenaab Omar Abdullah, the Jammu Region, is rooted in a culture of love, tolerance, and co-existence. Since we are peace loving, you do not have to remind us to maintain peace. But we also have a strong Martial Tradition and can stand up for our Rights. So do not test our patience and most certainly do not take us for granted.<br />
<br />
<br />
Yours Truly,<br />
Concerned Minority - The People of the Jammu Region.<br />
<br />
P.S: The Word Minority is demeaning and not our favourite way to describe ourselves, but it does seem to have an attention grabbing quality and hence its factual but liberal use.<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00416492970175334719noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5218035541580952181.post-24038496878300991302013-07-04T11:51:00.001-04:002013-07-04T12:22:40.965-04:00All in the Line of Duty<p>My almost 9 year old: " I don't think A (lil sis) can watch the Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. Maybe I can, if I skip that 'bit' ".</p>
<p>Me like an animal who catches the first whiff of danger : " Why what is that 'bit' "?</p>
<p>After a lot of stuttering and stammering  and searching for appropriate words,the almost 9 year old: " In that movie everybody has become very, very old and so they kiss or something"</p>
<p>Me with alarm bells ringing in my head but maintaining composure " How old is very , very old"?</p>
<p>The almost 9 year old: " 14-15"</p>
<p>Me in a panic now: "  'They' do it at 14-15 maybe, but we Indians don't.<br>
Indians do 'all that' at 30".</p>
<p>The almost 9 year old and yet gullible : " Okay..yes".</p>
<p>Me who doesn't know when to let it go shouting after the departing boy: " And Indians do 'all that' after they finish studying, find a good job and marry...."</p>
<p>The almost 9 year old and already disinterested : "I know, I know at 30".</p>
<p>Satyam Vada/ Speak the Truth, has taken a beating today....all in the line of duty. Sigh.</p>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00416492970175334719noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5218035541580952181.post-28539960092426985002013-06-05T09:21:00.001-04:002013-06-05T09:28:51.740-04:00Citizenship : Looking InwardsAs I walked to the park for my morning run today I crossed the Civic Centre parking area. They had a sign which said "Citizenship Parking". It meant that many who have applied for British Citizenship will be taking their Oath and pledging their allegiance to their new Country and her Queen. Hence the need for extra parking space today. I saw many Indians walking in, dressed in their best. And all I felt was deep sadness, a sense of loss and failure.<br />
<br />
I have always been Patriotic. I almost did not marry the love of my life because he was planning to move to the US. I was one of the biggest reasons why he chose to stay with an Indian Company at a time when it was a piece of cake for anyone in IT to move to the US. Happily enough as destiny would have it, we have travelled far and wide with that Indian Company and on our Indian Passports.<br />
<br />
A few years back, a younger, more hot headed me could not understand why people chose to give up their Indian Passports. It made me angry and resentful. I wanted to shout (ridiculously enough) Bharat Mata ki Jai and Vande Matram in their faces. I wore my Indian Citizenship as a bright red cape around my shoulders, if not a halo on my head. In my mind those who chose to give up their Indian Citizenship, were abandoning their Country of birth. I saw it as an easy way out. Cowardice. Escapism. Lack of Integrity.<br />
<br />
Life and time have enabled me to see their point of view too. And that was the start of sadness and a sense of failure.<br />
<br />
I have seen a small town, high school graduate, a widow with a one year old child, move to the US and live a life of dignity and relative comfort. Her daughter, going to the same school as other more affluent children and exposed to almost similar opportunities. I shudder to think how different it could have been for them in India.<br />
<br />
I know a Mother whose child has special needs. And yet here, the child has access to the best services and most importantly equal opportunities. Why will she go back to a Country where meeting the most basic needs of her child like access to schools, public places will be a huge challenge for her?<br />
<br />
Another friend works hard to meet ends meet. She is a single parent with a job which does not pay much. Yet her child attends the same school as my children. The differences in our incomes has not prevented her child from getting quality education. Going back would mean sending the child to a Government run school. The state of our government run, subsidized schools leaves much to be desired.<br />
Different people, different reasons. I try to and understand their reasons. Sometimes its about money and opportunities, and more often its about lifestyle and easy access to basic services. Albeit some reasons of 'practicality' and 'convenience', I will never understand. Since to me, my passport is more than a document.<br />
<br />
The anger has gone, leaving behind a sense of shame and failure. I feel, I failed all these people who do not want to live in my country anymore. <br />
Me and my Nation have also failed those, who live in my country, but still hang onto their Foreign Passports like a security blanket. My Nation has failed to win their trust. <br />
I wonder how we reached a point, where we congratulate others on acquiring a new Citizenship status and actually celebrate it. <br />
I secretly hope for the day when my children who are naturalized American Citizens, having been born there, as adults will choose Indian Passports over their American ones for a love of the country.<br />
<br />
Food, water, security, health,education and equal opportunity is what every man wants. I do not blame all those who give up their Indian passports. If man is in a fight or flight mode he can never develop. And every man has a right to live and in a place of his choice.<br />
<br />
Having said this I will not lessen the work and sacrifices of all those who have done so much for India. Those friends, relatives and acquaintances who work in different sectors, working hard to make a difference. They had a choice and they chose to do this. I live in awe of them. <br />
I cannot undermine individual responsibility for the state of my Nation. One of my nightmares is being driven to a situation, where I am forced to seek refuge or citizenship in a country other than my country of birth. I see enough people at work who have been driven out of their lands, uprooted, lost and yearning to return. I am grateful for the the choice and the freedom to live in my homeland. And even more grateful to the people who make this a possibility.<br />
<br />
I hold onto my Indian Passport proudly. I am still not in a place where I take it lightly. My identity and my passport has given me much. I am proud of it. My Nation is my Mother...chaotic but mine. <br />
My Passport has given me strength to face racist barbs head on. I will not cower because I begged you to take me in. I belong to India and I am here only for a reason. It gives me these words. A Voice. A Stand.<br />
<br />
Durlabham Bahrate Janama...its a rare privilege to be born in India. I truly believe that. I am grateful for being born in my country and into my Philosophy. But I wait and work towards a day when the Indian Passport will be cherished and sought after. <br />
So I maybe happy for people and my many friends because they are getting what they wanted, but I do not have the heart to congratulate them on this day.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00416492970175334719noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5218035541580952181.post-36357297568944691012013-04-14T19:21:00.000-04:002013-04-14T20:05:32.117-04:00Do we really need to Justify?Its getting repetitive and it is nowhere near ending. <br />
And we do this to each other again and again and again. <br />
Lifestyle choices need not be justified until and unless they affect the larger good of a large number of people. <br />
If the personal is not overflowing into the public, let it rest. <br />
If my decision has an impact on me, my family, my community and society at large it is for me to think, introspect and act.<br />
In the process of justifying my choices do I judge others unfairly? <br />
Are my reasons in any way a reflection of a desire to assuage my own guilt and confusion? <br />
To feel safe in others acknowledgement?<br />
Today we tend to feel better about ourselves by thinking less of the others...be it people, lifestyles or choices.<br />
<br />
The above could apply to anything and so many things but today it is in reference to this article in Huffington Post titled " Dear daughter, here's why I work".<a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/parentingcom/dear-daughter-heres-why-i_b_3069576.html?ncid=edlinkusaolp00000003">http://www.huffingtonpost.com/parentingcom/dear-daughter-heres-why-i_b_3069576.html?ncid=edlinkusaolp00000003</a> I was appalled to read the letter which supposedly addresses an eight year old child. The child asks her Mother if she loves her work more than her and her brother. This is a question which most working moms have heard in their lifetimes. <br />
It will not be wrong to say that this questions is not uncommon for the stay-at-home moms too. <br />
<br />
Behind this question I perceive an innocent attention and love hungry child seeking reiteration and declaration of love from the one person she values the most...Mother. It definitely did not warrant a reply and I quote here "<span style="color: red;"><em>The question breaks my heart, and as you are almost 8, I'm pretty sure it was designed to. Don't worry; I don't hold it against you. Daughters are meant to know and agitate their mother's vulnerable spots --it's part of the special intimacy we share. I did the same thing to my mom, giving her the business for going back to work part-time when I was a even older than you, after she'd spent years at home raising me, my brother and sister. I'll be sure to bring our conversation up over and over again when you're an adult and facing the same kinds of comments from your own daughter, like my mom does to me. (P.S. Mom, really sorry--again!)</em></span><span style="color: black;">".</span><br />
<br />
Is it really an eight year old child being addressed here? The Author just called her daughter manipulative, inferring that the question was designed to break the Mother's heart, all the while being guilty of the very same thing...manipulation.<br />
She tells her not to worry, that this will not be held against her. Was there a chance of this Mother holding a grudge against her child for having asked this question ?<br />
And what could be behind the laced threat of I will surely bring this conversation up again and again when you are in a similar situation. Is she being vindictive?<br />
And how can she predict what her daughter's life will be like or has she already made the choices for her daughter? <br />
Will the Mother admit falling flat on her face when and if the daughter chooses to stay at home to do an equally important and rewarding 'job' of taking care of her children? <br />
Will the Mother be sour if the daughter is blissfully happy with her choices?<br />
<br />
I will refrain from discussing at length as to how the definition of normalcy and surreal are different for different people.<br />
Leaving a three month old child behind, to get back to work might be surreal for the author. <br />
And agreeably, going back to work could mean going back to normalcy for many. <br />
But for many others, leaving behind a vulnerable, dependent three month old baby to go back to work maybe extremely irregular and unnatural. <br />
Understandably for some its not even a choice but 'majboori'(lack of choice) financial or otherwise.<br />
<br />
The Author goes on to compare her love for her job to her daughter's love for art. Which was alright till she asks her daughter"<span style="color: red;"><em>What if I told you it was your art ... or me? Sure, you'd choose me (I hope) if you had to, but wouldn't that feel like an unfair choice to make?</em><span style="color: black;">"</span><em> </em></span><br />
<span style="color: white;">This bit is confusing for even me ,an adult. Its sends mixed signals. A bit of misplaced blackmail and then grovelling for love. The Author expresses her hope that her child chooses her over what she loves to do...art. </span><br />
<span style="color: white;">Is this not a Mother clearly hoping to hear that she would be more important in her child's life, above all other things. </span><br />
<span style="color: white;">She specifically refers to her child's artwork/passion.Why is it necessary for me to turn my passion and creativity into a full time paying job? It may actually kill my joy in it. </span><br />
<span style="color: white;">Is the eight year old child not expressing the same hope when she asks if she and her sibling are loved more than their Mother's job? </span><br />
<span style="color: white;">Don't we as human beings inherently harbour a desire to be loved and cherished unconditionally?</span><br />
<span style="color: red;"><span style="color: black;"></span></span><br />
<span style="color: red;"> <span style="color: black;">"</span><em>And if you do, I hope your love of creating doesn't get sacrificed for the people you love, whether you make money from it or not. I hope you choose a partner that wants that for you too.</em></span><span style="color: black;">"</span><br />
<span style="color: white;">When did sacrifice as a quality become dishonorable? </span><br />
<span style="color: white;">Maybe my reference points are different or I sleepwalked through a time when<strong> I</strong> became more important than we, us, family, and community.</span><br />
<span style="color: white;">The Author hopes that a love for work or creating is not sacrificed for the people you love. </span><br />
<span style="color: white;">Tell that to the women who leave behind flourishing careers to attend to their children because they feel instinctively, that it is the right thing to do. </span><br />
<span style="color: white;">Tell that to a husband who takes voluntary retirement to attend to a sick ailing wife.</span><br />
<span style="color: white;">Tell that to a son who returns home, leaving behind better career prospects to be closer to his aging parents.</span><br />
<span style="color: white;">I know all of the above. People who do not think twice in giving up <strong>something</strong> they love for <strong>someone</strong> they love.</span> <br />
<br />
<em><span style="color: red;">"I work because I love it.</span></em><br />
<em><span style="color: red;">I work because scratching the itch to create makes me happy, and that happiness bleeds over into every other area, including how patient and engaged and creative a mother I am."</span></em><br />
<span style="color: black;"> </span><span style="color: white;">The above reasons are reasons which I can finally relate to. </span><br />
<span style="color: white;">This is exactly why I started working part time. </span><br />
<span style="color: white;">It gave me an opportunity to scratch that itch and yet do it on my time and my terms. </span><br />
<span style="color: white;">If something makes me a better , happier Mother why not? </span><br />
<span style="color: black;"><span style="color: white;">Be it a stay at home Mom or a Working Mother...Motherhood is super challenging and super rewarding for both.</span> </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: red;"><em>"I work because this nice house and those gymnastics lessons and those sneakers you need to have are all made possible by two incomes."</em></span><span style="color: black;"> </span><br />
<span style="color: black;"><span style="color: white;">I wish you had not given this embarrassingly skewed logic after you were so honest and endearing in your reasons of doing it simply because you love it and the fact that it makes you a better person, a better Mother at the end of the day.</span> </span><br />
You just told an eight year old that she would be less happier or a lesser person if she did not have that pair of sneakers. She was much better owning them.<br />
Are a nice house and fancy gymnastic lessons so important to one's well being I wonder? <br />
Is success and happiness limited to a well paying career and material acquisitions?<br />
It seems to me that in absence of any other reference point, success or purpose in life has become synonymous with running after objective happiness.<br />
<br />
<em><span style="color: red;"> "...you'd never ask your father why he works. His love is a given that long hours at work do nothing</span></em> <em><span style="color: red;">to diminish."</span></em><br />
<span style="color: white;">The above statement is not true. My children ask their Father for his time and attention. His long hours at work have lead to a feeling of alienation and have not been the best moments in our family life. His time and attention are equally important. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: white;">The Author makes me feel that in order to earn my children's respect and pride I need to be financially employed. If it refers to being able to indulge in my creative passions I stand corrected. But for that I need not be employed necessarily. </span><br />
<span style="color: white;">If I think that a job is what it would take for me to feel more pride in my Mother than I already have, I would seriously question my values. </span><br />
<span style="color: white;">Having said that I have tremendous respect for those many women who had to work to keep the home fires burning.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: red;"><em>"I work because even at your young age you've absorbed the subtle message that women's work is less important and valuable -- and that the moms who really love their kids don't do it." </em></span><br />
<span style="color: white;">On the contrary my children think Mommy is a Super Mom without a cape. She can do what daddy does but daddy cannot do what she does at home. </span><br />
<span style="color: white;">They have an understanding that however fun Daddy is, it is Mommy who is naturally gifted to be a nurturer.</span><br />
<span style="color: white;">It is only Mommy who has red flags being raised mentally, if they did not have spinach or Brussels sprouts in their diet at least twice a week. </span><br />
<span style="color: white;">Daddy loves them but he does not have special powers which allows Mommy to know exactly what they are thinking or doing even when she is not there. </span><br />
<span style="color: white;">Even when I had not started working part-time, I had told them that Mommy chose not to work because she felt that, that was the right thing for <strong>her</strong> to do. </span><br />
<span style="color: white;">They are confident in their knowledge that all Mommies everywhere irrespective of what they do and don't, love their children above everything else.</span><br />
<span style="color: white;"></span><br />
<span style="color: white;">Let us not justify our reasons for doing what we do. If we are clear, secure and happy in our understanding and our choices, there should be no reason to talk about it.</span><br />
<span style="color: white;"><strong>I</strong> too am confident that all Mommies everywhere irrespective of what they do and don't, love their children above everything else.</span> <br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00416492970175334719noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5218035541580952181.post-21984780235218744492012-07-29T20:19:00.003-04:002012-07-30T08:08:30.452-04:00Letter from the 'Hot-Phulka Making Woman'<br />
<br />
Dear Author,<br />
<br />
I just finished reading your article, pretentiously titled " Home truths on Career Wives". The reference point of your mind bogglingly ridiculous article, the film 'Cocktail', is one I am yet to watch but thanks to many reviews I have an idea of the stereotypical underlying theme of the film.<br />
I am intrigued by your motives to writing such an article. Were you trying to earn brownie points from your wife, the COO of some Bank as portraying yourself as the Champion of Women's Rights?<br />
I hate to be the one to break the news that you did not score well with women other than maybe those related to you or those who read this article in a hurry and missed the finer details and the horrifying conclusions you draw.<br />
<br />
You stand by in your words with " capable, independent, career-oriented woman". You are obviously surprised and clearly clueless about the life choices made by 'hot-phulka' making women who take care of home and hearth. I need to know what you mean and understand by 'capable' women? <br />
Those women who are employed are 'capable' in earning a livelihood but the flip side you choose to conveniently overlook is that they may be 'incapable' (as confessed by many working women friends) of staying at home and being a full time Mother, a Carer for the elderly... invaluable to her family and community. <br />
You define 'capability' strangely and seem to think that everything from making rotis, to raising children, being at home to take care of elderly parents can be 'outsourced'. You fail to see the strength of character of the women who play these roles. Outsourcing the task of earning money to the husband suddenly makes a woman weak, dependent and incapable is a conclusion pretty skewed. <br />
<br />
You refuse to entertain the idea that many strong, intelligent and capable women..professionals... see it simply as Division of Labour ..one partner working outside the home and the other in the home, within the family and community. This work structure is not hierarchical in nature and both partners deem each other as equals. In my part of the world I have friends with degrees in Dentistry and Medicine and Engineering who have chosen to make their children their priority and are extremely capable of switching roles between full-time Mommies and career professionals. <br />
<br />
You are as you claim disturbed by women portrayed as finding salvation in making daal and roti for their husbands. I am standing right beside you if making roti and daal for husband or anyone is seen as a path to 'salvation' for any woman or man for that matter. The Director of the Film needs a lesson in Faith and Spirituality. But then again, so do you.<br />
I see you have a soft spot for Marissa from 'the other part of the World'. You do not fail to mention that she is a CEO of a Fortune 500 Company and will be back at work soon after delivering her baby. Impressive indeed as she just generated employment by 'outsourcing' the care of her baby to someone else. An inspiration to men and women alike you said. To some possibly...but road to salvation ...this is certainly not.<br />
<br />
I would have have given you some credit if you had championed the cause of my super-women, awe-inspiring Mommy and Career Women friends. But you failed yet again and how so. You talk of 'benefits' of choosing a ' capable, independent and career-oriented woman'. I was just wondering if you were referring to monetary 'benefits'... double income salaries, bigger home and grander holidays. And yes, not surprisingly you were. She is some sort of a meal ticket and to quote you helps you afford a 'decent apartment'. You advise your fellow men and promote this particular kind of woman, as someone 'enormously beneficial' in a world of 'expensive apartments and frequent layoffs'. You see her career not as her choice, something she wants to do for herself but as a golden pass to a grander home, and financial security and that makes you less of a man in my opinion. For you come out as a person who has little or no faith in oneself. The faith that you would be able to earn a living by yourself. Where is your sense of independence I wonder?<br />
<br />
I started having difficulty in following you train of thought when you said a career woman can better relate to Organizational issues. Running a home and even attempting to ensure a happy,wholesome and safe childhood for my children is one of the most herculean organizational tasks I have undertaken. The one that is most fraught with a heightened sense of responsibility. The biggest investment of all with very little room for mistakes and generously peppered with moments of unadulterated joy too. As I have been employed elsewhere I speak from experience. Nothing comes close to it. <br />
<br />
You cracked me up when you said a working woman is better exposed to the World. What does that even mean? You say 'she brings back knowledge and information that can be useful to the family'. <span style="background-color: white;">W</span>hat can that be about, I wondered and scratched my head. By now attuned to your reach and scope of thoughts I tried guessing...the latest HR initiative, the thrilling delivery status, the excitement of a Product Launch, the list of the top 10 Fortune 500 companies, the new pay structure, promotions, office politics ...? Are we from the same planet? Is that what you call Knowledge? I was wondering if I had stepped the line by writing something so rude and unlike my character when I read that you define knowledge and information as " latest deals, best mutual funds to invest in' and the most hilarious of all 'new holiday destinations'. What you need is a travel agent or a financial advisor not a wife if that is the information you are seeking from her.<br />
<br />
You talk of Quality of Life being better for working women with such confidence I feel you have not seen overly stressed, constantly exhausted, guilt-ridden women trying to juggle home and career. I just started working part-time and have been worried about the mental and physical state of women who try to do it all. As if being a Mother was not the toughest job ever, add to it the pressures of the work environment and a husband like you who at the end of the day hopes to piggy-back his way to a better home and a fun holiday destination...bless her!<br />
A gentle reminder.. fulfillment and satisfaction are a mental state not a position, holiday, or address.<br />
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I was about to resign myself to the fact that at least you attempted to stand with my working women friends but alas, you fall from grace when you mention that there are 'drawbacks' too in being with a career woman. <br />
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You proudly said that you have outsourced 'phulka-making' to someone else. I have a sneaking suspicion that it must be another woman doing your most looked down upon task. You hurt another working woman yet again. Sigh.<br />
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I share your pride in your working Mother and wife but ask you to share my pride in my Mother who stayed at home to raise me. And unlike what you said I was not mollycoddled and am a very independent, and free-spirited woman. I grew up emotionally secure and trusting of the most important relationship in my life. My Mother raised me well. <br />
My children already appreciate the fact that I give them priority over my own career aspirations. My decision that my career could wait but my children could not is something I am proud of and personal. I knew they would grow up too fast and there are no re-winds in life. I chose to enjoy each moment and give due justice to each stage and role in my life. I need not justify my position to anyone and my choice also does not stop me from respecting the decision of my working women friends and celebrating their success with a huge sense of pride. Will you believe me when I say that I have got back the respect and love from all my intelligent, working women friends in good measure. <br />
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I hope that however much your article seems to pit one group of women against the other, you will be seen as you are... shallow, fake and unconvincing. Some of the terms you have used for the women you are supporting stresses my point.. ' she brings enormous benefits and is an asset'. <br />
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You have reduced women to being a product. You argue which 'product' is better. You list their benefits and drawbacks. <br />
You ask others to bear in mind not to judge women on the way they dress, interest in the kitchen and the confidence in their voice. And I say exactly the same thing to you.<br />
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You regale and infuriate me with your stereotyping and presumptions. I am at home but have little interest in cooking but love to read. I can think and write and have opinions. I also know whats happening around me and in the world. I do public speaking with 'confidence in my voice'. I am learning new skills, am productively engaged, and feel important, alive and happy. Does that shock you? <br />
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You are the one who is regressive, and intolerant of different choices and lifestyles or are living in a strange part of the world where you have not met intelligent, confident and proud women who have chosen to stay at home for a reason. You have a lot of un-learning to do. And you could start with respecting all women and their choices.<br />
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Any intelligent woman..working or not will see through you. I wanted to say more but I need to get back to (gasp!) some 'hot-phulka making'.<br />
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Your truly,<br />
Not at all an incapable, dependent or oppressed Woman.<br />
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P.S : I refer to your article <a href="http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/home/sunday-toi/all-that-matters/Home-truths-on-career-wives/articleshow/15243750.cms">http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/home/sunday-toi/all-that-matters/Home-truths-on-career-wives/articleshow/15243750.cms</a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00416492970175334719noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5218035541580952181.post-54277870529493288352012-02-10T08:36:00.010-05:002012-02-11T04:16:12.994-05:00All in a Few Moments of PlayWe kicked off the Half-Term Break today. Enjoying the snow covered landscape from the comforts of a well heated home, it could not have been better. After the serious task of penning down our targets, both learning targets and fun targets for the 10 day long holiday, it was playtime. And Mommy had no way of escaping it.<br />
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Being the clever Mommy that she is, she decided <span style="background-color: #444444;">to use</span> the game to her advantage. The children were gently prodded to play Doctors and convinced that they should be the "Massage Doctors" while Mommy could be the achy patient. Below are the hilarious, snatches of the conversation between the clever Mommy-The Achy- Patient while being massaged by the two gullible Doctors.<br />
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<strong>Scene 1: The Diagnosis Begins and Words of Wisdom follow..</strong><br />
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Doctor A1 : "When did this pain start?"<br />
The Conniving Mom (CM): "Well the on-off pain in the legs and lower back started after my first baby"<br />
At this without a word Doctor A2 takes it upon herself to whack the first born and the culprit here. <br />
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Doctor A1 after some thought and a moment of guilt advises : " I know it must have hurt to have that baby and that may make some people think they should not have babies, but if you think in your <em><strong>real</strong></em> heart, it <em><strong>is</strong></em> nice to have children"<br />
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Point taken Doctor. :)<br />
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<strong>Scene 2 : You can Run but you cannot Escape ....Old Age!!</strong><br />
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Doctor A2 after spotting a gray strand or two, screams: " There is white in your hair!!!!"<br />
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The CM reminds herself to stock up on hair dye.<br />
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Doctor A1 kindly whispering( so as not to hurt the patients feelings) to Doctor A2 : " She is old but she is <em>still</em> doing ok".<br />
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Doctor A1 to the Patient: " You<em> are</em> old but I am happy to tell you that you are lucky enough to still have many years to play with your children"<br />
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The CM says a silent prayer of thanks.<br />
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<strong>Scene 3 : Well at least Someone Gets It...</strong><br />
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Doctor A1: "Are you a Mother of 2 kids?"<br />
The CM: "Yes"<br />
Doctor A1: "Then I advise you to have weekly massages"<br />
The CM to herself "Hell Yeah!"<br />
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<strong>Scene 4 :Foot in the mouth moment for the Conniving Mommy</strong><br />
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The CM : "Any medical advise Doctor? "<br />
Doctor A1: "You <em>could</em> lose some weight"<br />
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<strong>Scene 5 Payback for The Conniving Mommy; Embarass her Time</strong><br />
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Doctor A2: "Can I style the hair on your legs?"<br />
Note to myself: winter does not mean, you do not wax.<br />
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<strong>Scene 6: The Final Word.</strong><br />
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Doctor A1: "You are old, but not <em>that</em> old and you still have loads of years to live"<br />
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The CM :<strong> Hallelujah!!!!</strong>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00416492970175334719noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5218035541580952181.post-38936934586802104732011-07-04T18:03:00.006-04:002014-02-28T04:21:15.038-05:00Some Stereotypes and a Love Story<div>
Thanks to Chetan Bhagat, a college senior and The Husband (not necessarily in that order) I am writing this piece. Chetan Bhagat is not known to me personally.Though I am a tad bit tired of NDTV trying to get his opinion on everything under the sun, just because he wrote some popular fiction. Admittedly I enjoyed his book :Two States, which I read this week. The enjoyment purely because, I have been there and done that. My LSR college senior, because she has been putting up lovely <em>shayari</em>(poetry) on her Facebook status updates, evoking beautiful memories.And The Husband because without him the story would never be :)<br />
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Stereotyping is something which at times we are victims of and sometimes something which we are equally guilty of. My love story is abound with plenty of stereotyping and efforts of rising above them unscathed. Some of those incidents may seem hilarious today but were far from funny then.<br />
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Before I continue a disclaimer: I have been blessed with a great <em>Sasuraal</em>(Husband's immediate and extended family). The journey has been more or less smooth and I have been loved. <em>Main Geeta par haath rakh kar kehtee hoon ki </em>am not saying this, because someone from the In laws side may read this.<br />
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I come from a conservative Dogra Brahmin Family (as north Indian as it gets). And my husband is a Bihari Rajput (eastern India). A Bihari!!! at a time when Bihar and Biharis had unfairly become the National joke thanks to Lalu Prasad Yadav. The amnesia that Bihar has produced Chanakya, Chandragupt Maurya, Gautam Buddha,Babu Kunwar Singh, Rajendra Prasad to name a few is surprising to say the least.<br />
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When I first told my mother I wanted to marry and marry a Bihari at that, my understanding and progressive mother who had already met him, was happy. This sentiment only lasted for thirty minutes before it was replaced by an increasing sense of anxiety and panic. For God's sake a Bihari!!! How was a honest Dogra Brahmins family supposed to produce the kind of gold, cash, 'gifts' a Bihari Rajput family would expect. I told her in self-righteous anger and with LSR and TISS honed sensibilities that the mere mention of the word dowry and all hell would break loose on the boy's family. With lots of trepidation my mother went ahead with the task of informing my first love ..my Dad!.<br />
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Daddy dearest like all the daddies, thought the guy was, a degree or two less than what I deserved. After all I was the star of the <em>khandaan</em>. I was a Delhi University Topper, done what no other Dogra girl (P.S. known to them) had done before...had gone to one of the Nations best college and Institute. All this at a time when my parents had to justify to the rest of the family why I could not do a 'simple' BA if that was all I wanted to do in some college in Jammu under the eye of any of my three loving but scary looking, bearded Mama's (maternal Uncles) and the loving but overly protective extended family.<br />
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I was allowed to study in Delhi with some conditions. The family also gave in because I was the 'good girl' ...I could do no wrong. And after three wonderful years of Undergrad years, I did them proud by getting into TISS, Mumbai. And that is where the brilliant track record ends. I betrayed every body's trust by falling for a Bihari in the City of Dreams!<br />
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My Dad gave in grudgingly when I said there was no marrying this Bihari, if I did not have his blessings. My dad melted and spent the rest of the following months gathering courage to break the news to the extended family, that his lovely daughter had not only, <strong>not</strong>, fallen for one of the studs from the Dogra community, but even his last name was wrong! At that stage my father would have married me to anyone from the country as long as he was a Brahmin.<br />
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The extended family (barring a few) was displeased about two facts. One, that I had dared to choose my own life partner and two that he was not from the same community or caste. Someone even asked, if all the Brahmin boys were dead. This was more dramatically put, than it actually reads. Yes those Bollywood movies are inspired by real life and vice versa. <br />
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Not strangely enough I experienced some gender stereotyping too at both ends. If there were some in the Husband's circle who thought that I had ensnared their son, there are some in my family who have as recently as this year (after some bad blood between families) said that I had<em> trapped</em> this really eligible and <em>bhola</em> boy knowing very well that he is a 'great catch'!<br />
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Thanks to some spelling mistake by the School authorities and thanks to a weird way that my Bihari family chose to spell, my husband goes with the last name Sinha instead of the more obvious Rajputi...Singh. Though it is one of the biggest sore points for my husband, it proved to be a great help to us. My ancestral village back in Jammu and Kashmir, still thinks, Sinhas are upper caste Brahmins from Bihar. They remain ignorant about the fact that my children go with the last name Singh...the mistake finally corrected with this generation. Ignorance has proven bliss here.<br />
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While this was happening in my family, I can imagine the fear clawing at my husband's family. I was this strange North Indian girl who had '<em>phansaoed</em>' (trapped) their innocent (if they only knew) boy. The whispers doing the round were that the boy was under the spell of a Punjabi/Kashmiri girl. Some sympathized over the loss. After all the boy was fair, and highly educated, especially for a Rajput boy. Rajput boys usually choosing to look after their ancestral "zameen jaydaad"(property) and living off it. Moreover the boy was <em>Phoren</em> (foreign) returned...just back from a year long stint in England. The possible dowry was also estimated by some.I have to clarify that my in laws could not care less for the dowry and were more worried if I would fit in.<br />
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Horoscopes were matched upon the parents insistence and we breathed easy as it was confirmed that the stars do not frown upon inter-caste, inter-regional marriages. The planetary positions are still thankfully above (no pun intended) discrimination based upon color, caste, creed, and national/regional/linguistic affiliations.<br />
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My family with their North Indian arrogance thought my husband would be dark(as if that's a crime) ugly and uncouth. Surprise! Surprise!the husband if not fairer is the same color as I am. And is definitely not ugly, even if I may say so. The family in Bihar on their part were thinking I would be some loud mouthed North Indian Idiot (read Punjabi, by their own admission), who would not wear sarees or touch every body's feet as a mark of respect,when required).<br />
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The wedding went smoothly because as decided, since the marriage was happening in my house, the rituals were to be conducted our way. My family had successfully engaged with all the Bihari Rajputs that rained down on us that day in December. There was conversation and it was fun to hear the Dogra accented Hindi intermingling with the heavy sing-song Bihari accent. Each side thinking the other funny. We did our best with the Bihari rituals of <em>Tilak, chaandi ki machhli, dwaar puja </em>etc.<br />
Our Dogra Pandit silenced the Bihari Pandit who seemed unsure of the sanskrit shlokas and wisely chose to slurp on his tea while our Pandit completed the wedding rituals. This was seen as a major victory by my side.<br />
Along with no dowry my family had also respectfully declined to provide Non vegetarian food for the <em>Baraatis</em>. I understand all the young guns in my husband's family were disappointed at the prospect of 'ghaas-phoos'(vegetarian) for dinner.<br />
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Thanks to caste dynamics I had also been warned by a concerned friend and a member of the 'enemy' caste that Rajputs are known for their parochial attitudes towards women. It seems atleast according to this person that Rajputs have "<em>Nachaniya Bajaniyas</em>" ( dancing girls), especially engaged as part of the wedding celebrations. I had severe anxiety attacks,and visions of the husband,drunk, with strings of flowers around his wrist, and dancing around a <em>Nachaniya-bajaniya </em>all the whilst firing shots in the air, in the midst of the wedding party. Shudder!<br />
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I flew to my husband's hometown and cried on the way from the airport to my new home out of fear and frustration. Fear because I was genuinely scared of the Biharis waiting for me and what they would make of me, a non-Bihari. And frustration because my husband had failed to provide me with a rough sketch of the rituals that were to take place. I went in clueless and almost toppled over while hopping from one basket to another with my husband holding me from behind. These baskets lined my way from the car to the <em>mandap</em> where I sat down for some more <em>Puja</em>. The basket hopping is a quaint and charming Bihari ritual. There was an understandably added interest during the <em>munh-dikhai</em>. At that point the close family members walked around tense, waiting for me to make some mistake. And the casual onlookers hoping to spot the horns?<br />
I am not sure what they expected of a North Indian Daughter-in-law...did they truly think I would be high-fiving and back slapping my Husband's Great Aunts and Uncles, cracking loud jokes, and breaking into a Daler Mehendi song. All this as I almost suffocated under the heavy wedding <em>Lehenga</em> and jewellery.<br />
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The third day, post-wedding as I prepared to go out to greet some guests, my Mother-in-law worriedly reminded me to touch their feet in respect and unnecessarily added that if I do not do so (as if I would dare/choose not to) they would think I was a Punjabi with no 'culture'. This brought on a fresh batch of tears, less because of the stereotype, but, more because my Mother-in-law still had my ethnicity wrong!!!<br />
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I am a Dogra for all that it is worth and very proud of my roots.I love my fellow Punjabis and Kashmiris but I was beginning to have a serious identity crisis by then. I was also beginning to wonder if the Punjabis had it worse than the the Biharis in terms of stereotyping.<br />
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The languages spoken in my husband's house are what I call the 'Bihari kind of Hindi', Bhojpuri and Maghi. The in laws benevolently spoke to me in 'their' hindi which seemed very foreign when on the sixth or seventh day my MIL asked me to get a 'chhipli' from the kitchen. I stood in the kitchen desperately wanting to make a good impression and frantically thinking of all the possibilities of what a 'chhipli' could be. In the end I did end up taking the wrong thing to her. It turned out to be a small bowl and what I took instead, better remain a secret. But I am wiser now and have another language skill in my kitty.<br />
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My husband too suffered likewise. He was at the receiving end of all jokes when he went to Jammu. He showed-off his Dogri speaking skills and repeated the only line I had taught him "<em> Main eda mundu aan</em>" pointing towards me. What he really was saying was that "I am my wife's servant", much to everybody's amusement and my utter delight.<br />
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Food was another story. As I braved the bland and super healthy food in his house (not particular to all Bihari homes), he stoically ate tons of <em>paneer, rajma </em>and <em>nandadu</em> (lotus roots) drowning in oil. I spent the first week throwing the too sweet <em>Awla ka murabba</em> out of the window, into the kitchen garden.He on the other hand had nightmares of being chased by <em>Rajma</em> and giant <em>gulaab jamuns</em>.<br />
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If I was amazed by the bright red nailpaint every married Bihari woman lovingly wore on her toe nails, irrespective of age they claimed to be blinded by what they called the garish colours and heavy embroidery, women from my community adorned.<br />
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Even after a year of marriage my MIL dreaded to introduce me as a Non-Bihari girl and would tell people I was from Ranchi which was technically correct since I grew up there. But the deliberate attempt to skip over my Dogra identity was insulting.<br />
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The stereotypes are not even restricted to our respective home states. In Mumbai everybody from UP and Bihar (I dont think they know the difference there..oops stereotyping) is a 'Bhaiya' ...a term more deragatory than complimentary. Once I told a girl, a Mumbaikar and a total stranger, who was in the midst of giving me a facial massage that I am married to a Bihari, and she shrieked "You married a Bhaiya!!! I was too shocked to give her a coherent and rational response and just managed to stutter " <em> Nahin Mera wala Bhaiya achha hai</em>!!!"<br />
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My husband has it easy at times, since the expectations are set so low for a Bihari that he always comes out with flying colors, impressing the skeptics with his knowledge, courtesy,and friendly and polite ways. For the still doubtful, my advise is to check the IIT and UPSC list of successful candidates. Education and hard work is not something the Biharis lack, most definitely.<br />
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I have it tougher, for being from Kashmir means, I am expected to be a stunning beauty with nothing less than our National favorite "milky white complexion"! Sigh. Thankfully it ends here and very rarely do I have to bring to life the image of a me in a <em>shikara</em> with flowers and a <em>santoor</em>, humming a melancholy mountain tune. Yes it has happened where I have been asked if I get off at the Jammu Railway Station and take a Shikara to my parents residence!!! And no that is not even an option!.<br />
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shikara<br />
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I am not sure which is easier for a Jammu and Kashmir state subject... being suspected to be Anti-National and terrorist or expected to be a raging beauty!!<br />
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With all the misgivings and amidst all the one upmanship games, the husband and I have largely remained unaffected barring when we fight and I blame the entire state of Bihar for what I percieve as his stubbornness and my resulting misery. Yes we can be petty too...the pretty mountain girls.To his credit he rarely brings in my regional status into a fight. But our accents can be amusing for him much to my chagrin.<br />
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What it means for my children is yet to be seen as they are already under pressure to do well academically because of a stereotype that children of mixed marriages have a higher IQ. They also have the added and misguided responsibility to justify their caste DNA. Well read, academically and spiritually inclined like Brahmins and brave and heroic,to justify their lineage to the warrior caste of Rajputs.<br />
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But it has been a decade of a marriage between two families,states,languages,<em>litti-chokha and rajma-ambal, Madhubani and Basohli paintings, holi and lohri, sarees and suthan-kurtas</em> and more. It has definitely made us less judgemental and increasingly tolerant of differences and more loving of all people. </div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00416492970175334719noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5218035541580952181.post-90393309238239663732011-02-11T13:12:00.007-05:002011-02-16T19:36:07.224-05:00Another Lesson LearntThere will always be inequality. Some will be rich and some poor. Some blessed more than the others. I know all this not just because I read the news and am aware of economic and social conditions, but also because professionally I have a degree in Social Work which enabled me to work in situations which were far from perfect and with people who obviously are less lucky than most.<br /><br />But the perspective on what life is gets a different hue when I go to my children's school everyday.<br />I have children going to a school which is part of the public school system in England. To put it in the Indian context I have children studying in the English version of "Municipality School". The education is standardized so they are in no danger of losing out in terms of quality. They could possibly be getting more if they went to a Private School but I do not think I can or want to spend that kind of money for 2-3 yrs. of my stay here. The Grammar Schools are comparable to the Private Schools, and substantially cheaper are for 11+ yrs old children. Children going to Public Schools is perfectly acceptable and the norm for even my 'class'.<br /><br />I moved to England 8 months back and it is clearly a country much less richer than my previous country of residence the US of A. Thanks to over-subscription of London schools my children got admission in a school which is not in our catchment area (catchment area schools being the closest to the residence). By the English and the American standards my kids actually travel quite a distance to go to school...at least 35-40 mins. by public bus and 15 mins. by car. The school also happens to be in a Council Estate. Council Estate is public or social housing.<br /><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Council_house">http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Council_house</a><br /><br />In all honesty I was a little anxious to begin with regarding the fact that the school would have a lot of children from the Council Flats....children of single mothers, political asylum seekers, dysfunctional families etc. As they say it here children from the 'working class'.<br />And as someone who has worked with 'different' social groups...far removed from what is defined as "normal" by our society, I surprised myself thinking like this.<br /><br />Oh! I have never judged the people I have worked with...women in prostitution, their children, juvenile delinquents etc. We as a family also have never treated the driver and the maid (back in India) and their children differentially. We have been kind and non-discriminatory.<br />Though now I ask myself have I been proud of a behavior which merits no special mention because that is how it should be. Economic disparity will always exist but someone from a different class merits the same treatment as anyone else and it should be a natural behavior.<br /><br />I got a lesson or two and continue to learn as I now get a chance to deal with different 'classes' on a truly equal level. And I am wiser for the experience. It is changing me. Judge for yourself as I give you 2 scenarios:<br /><br /><strong>Case 1</strong>: <em>Children going to a school where most families are like us (finance/IT)</em> : I would be having the same conversations with the same group of moms I meet socially. Planning and working out birthday parties, play dates, extra-curricular classes, trips to the Museums/theatre, pot lucks, parties etc. Trying to outdo each other with respect to the child's academic skills. After all we are Indian Moms and it is in our blood to want to excel and slave at everything. We would be cribbing about the same domestic help issues and life in general...husband, children, in-laws, career-home balance,weather. Dicussing parenting skills and trying to seek approval or appreciation for our 'methods'.<br />Having said this I must add that I see these as perfectly harmless conversations and I am a party to such discussions myself.<br /><br /><strong>Lessons learnt</strong>: None<br /><br /><strong>Change</strong>: Not much. I would still be 'aware' of all the social issues. Still hope to do something about something one fine day...sometime in the future. Life would go on as it is....self-contained and self-absorbed.<br /><br />My children would be just what they are... privileged children unaware of the life outside their artistically done up rooms.<br /><br /><strong>Case 2</strong>: <em>Children going to their present school where the profile of the students is varied and so different from ours : </em><br />I see my children coming back to a loving mother, hot food, a safe home and I see my son's friend going back to a home with violence, less food and much less love. I see my child high-five a kid who has been to the woman's shelter thrice already in his young life because his father almost beat his mother to death. I see my son play with a boy who goes back home with a mother who smokes like a chimney and has seemed stoned on many afternoons she has come to pick her child up. While my children play happily in their rooms I know now of children who are restricted to some corner in a cramped 1 room tenement with a family of six.<br />I know of a child who has run up to my friend and said he wished she were his Mommy because she always gets snacks for her son to eat on the bus ride back home.<br /><br />I have seen mothers <em>forced</em> to leave children home alone because they must work to put food on the plate vis a vis mothers who have the luxury of leaving their child in fancy day cares and with hired help because they cannot stay at home or want to spend whenever and on whatever they want or genuinely believe that their self-identity is linked with their jobs.<br /><br /><strong>Lesson Learnt:</strong> Plenty and with a huge dose of heartache.<br />Wants me to stop complaining about everything I have ever complained about.. for they seem so trivial.<br />I have felt like kicking my own *** for the spoilt brat I have been at times complaining about the 35mins. bus ride to school and back and about my supposed "stressful" life!!<br /><br />I am more aware each day of how blessed I am for being able to be with my children..nurture and nourish them. I am also conscious of how lucky my children are for all that they have.<br /><br />Everyday the fact that I am so lucky is like a slap across my face...I say a slap because it makes me ashamed of all my petty issues and a slap because it demands that I think and act differently!<br /><br /><strong>Change</strong>: I am filled with an increasing restlessness to give back what I have received. I count my blessings everyday. I want to protect each and every child. I know that may not be possible but can I not act upon all the existing possiblities, as an actor in this drama called life. The deep sense of Gratitude I feel overwhelms me at times.<br /><br />My children could not have been luckier to get this experience.<br />They are gradually and will become more aware of the existing differences and become more sensitive and responsible.<br />They are less demanding and I tell them that giving is much more fun.<br />They will hopefully soon see that they it owe it to themselves and not to anyone else to do the best that they can...after all they already have a head start in life.<br /><br />As a parent I wish to see my children healthy and happy. The last thing I want, is for them to grow up with a sense of entitlement.<br /><br />I would be so proud to see them as individuals who give back.<br />I would hold my head higher if they passed on all the good things they have received.<br />I will know I have achieved some measure of success as a mother, if they don't simply talk of change but <em>"do"</em> and <em>"become"</em> that change.<br />Most of all I want them and me to be grateful and then do something about it.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00416492970175334719noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5218035541580952181.post-1710812945469659032011-01-13T16:25:00.011-05:002011-01-15T08:05:23.488-05:00EpiphanyMoments of epiphany are and should be a part of life, lest we stagnate and not grow. I recently had some of those moments and what better time than the beginning of a new year !<br /><br />I have been introspecting thanks to two friends. A, is someone I have always admired for seemingly, effortlessly managing both work and home.<br />And the other S, (whom I thought I had lost to work, home and life in general) is on a sabbatical and we have been catching up, much to my delight.<br /><br />A has surprised me by her honest and fair analysis of the life of a working mom.<br />Her perspective : <a href="http://betweenworkandhome.blogspot.com/2011/01/ownership-of-your-own-time.html">http://betweenworkandhome.blogspot.com/2011/01/ownership-of-your-own-time.html</a><br /><br />S and her life experiences got me thinking. And I realized that though working and stay-at-home mums apparently lead very different lives there is a common thread which binds them.<br />Their choices to stay at home or work outside home maybe personal, circumstantial or otherwise but they possibly share the same sense of restlessness if they have not 'found' themselves.<br />If their choices are influenced and motivated by anything other than an understanding of oneself, the assumed happiness that accompanies their decisions and choices in life will be short-lived.<br /><br /><p>Take a SAHM (stay-at-home-mom) for example. If she has been motivated by a sense of self-righteousness and is forced by circumstances, then frustration will be her constant companion. . If the decision does not come from a certain understanding and reasoning, she will soon feel trapped. A lack of a strong sense of self will lead to doubts and a shaky self esteem. For obviously a society which associates success with a pay check and some fancy title will not let her rest easy.</p>She is in danger of:<br /><br /><ul><li>Suffering from feelings of inadequacy and inferiority </li><li>The WM (working mother) arousing envy in her</li><li>Feeling like a total failure if God forbid the WM happens to outdo her in housekeeping or child rearing...she is supposed to be flawless.. for what else does she do, being at home?</li><li>Overly attaching herself to her role and falsely thinking that she is the most important thing in her children's life and will remain so.</li></ul>The WM (working mom) on the other hand has the trappings of a successful, independent and confident woman. But the moral high ground of the SAHM might be unnerving for her. She maybe attached to her working status for all the wrong reasons. If the need to work is to apply all the "training" as I call it, and not education, she went through, it can be dissatisfying.<br />A wrongful association of self esteem and personal growth with her current employment status, can only lead to a let down later.<br /><br />She is in danger of :<br /><br /><ul><li>Being the victim of the super-woman syndrome where she is supposed to juggle work and home perfectly</li><li>The SAHM arousing guilt and doubt in her</li><li>Suffering from supreme guilt and regret if God forbid her child falls sick or does not do too well in school...for what else if not her selfish desire for a career is to blame?</li><li>Finding comfort and suffering from a false sense of importance in her job and title where she is dispensable and replaceable (like any of her male counterpart)</li></ul><p>All of the above is such a waste of energy, a cause for anxiety and time spent worrying. It makes joy fleeting and elusive.</p><p>I have gone through some and all of what I have written. Only time and introduction to some fundamental questions gave me peace. I thank my new found spirituality and say whatever it takes to this tranquility and self confidence is welcome and necessary.</p><p>I have realized that much angst is due to us confusing our <strong>role</strong> in life vis a vis our <strong>purpose</strong> in life. Our <strong>role</strong> in life is something which is dependent on circumstances and and personal choices but our <strong>purpose</strong> should be above it all and much higher. </p><p>Roles change as time passes. Today my sensibilities stop me from leaving my children with strangers and hired help and take up a job, but tomorrow is another story. My role today is of a SAHM, tomorrow it may be that of a WM.</p><p>My role is extremely important in the life of my 6 yr. old but it will change in nature and intensity down the years. If I confuse my role with my purpose in life I will feel betrayed and bereft when in my 28yr. old son's life, his wife will become more important than me (the root cause of all the MIL and DIL drama). I cannot be substituted, but, will not hold an exactly similar position that I enjoy today.</p><p>If as a WM, am overly attached to my job and position, and do not see it as just a role I enjoy playing for the time being I will not be able to come to terms with my job loss for whatever reasons. I may also not be able to give up my job when it becomes necessary to do so for all the right reasons...family, children, caring for an old parent etc. etc. </p><p>It helps to come to terms with the fact that with each stage in life we have a role to play and perform the ensuing duties....daughter,student,wife,mother,career woman... The earlier this dawns on us , the better we play that role. With time the role shall change. Hence doing justice to the role will always be satisfying.</p><p>A regular job cannot be the purpose of one's life. I envision no personal growth or evolution in it. I also do not see how I can limit myself to the role of a wife and a mother and justify my potential. </p><p>And when I say potential, growth, evolution, my reference points are my philosophy in life which says we were born to do 'something'. We are born to live and to learn. We ought to have a purpose in life which transcends time. </p>So each to her own but a purpose and a sense of self to all.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00416492970175334719noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5218035541580952181.post-10825481333145064002010-12-07T15:57:00.008-05:002010-12-15T03:37:56.118-05:00A Sense of Ownership and Pride<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJtnhWORbFUH-zOIW_gMJJBlP1A6CoJYya15GmYFso3yhd4YcKJ_D8eFVqh_19sLUw5g_o8uWDW-PQ6cj-lR5pGFehIdT1QYLw8Po1nW_JKCi7rN5TUhrl19EMW7xn6XHJt1rwcf59ilc/s1600/postures.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 317px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5550513716255122818" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJtnhWORbFUH-zOIW_gMJJBlP1A6CoJYya15GmYFso3yhd4YcKJ_D8eFVqh_19sLUw5g_o8uWDW-PQ6cj-lR5pGFehIdT1QYLw8Po1nW_JKCi7rN5TUhrl19EMW7xn6XHJt1rwcf59ilc/s400/postures.jpg" /></a><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div>I feel blessed being born a human and a woman on that. I am grateful for many other things I have been born into...parents, extended family, community, country and my faith. I honestly believe in the quote<em>"Durlabham Bharat Janama". </em>This in no way makes me think lesser of the other gender,race,faith and nationality. There is no sense of superiority, just a healthy sense of pride.</div><br /><br /><div>Because of my land of birth I was also born into a philosophy and a way of life. The Vedic Philosophy. I do not like to use the word 'Hindu' since it is grossly misunderstood and misinterpreted. It is not a Sanskrit word and is not found in any of our scriptures. It was a secular word denoting a certain Geographical region, its people and practices. Hence actually Hinduism could refer to all the religions being practiced beyond the River Sindhu.</div><br /><br /><div>Before I digress any further I will come back to the issue at hand of Vedic Philosophy and Yoga. Of a strange rising trend of disassociation of a faith/way of life and its tenets. An ever increasing practice of selectively choosing some parts of a philosophy and discounting the rest. Which is fine for some I guess, but, why stop short of giving due credit to the original source.</div><br /><br /><div>It makes me wonder if this confusion and ambiguity and a distancing from Faith and an ancient way of life is because we confuse it for a religion which is time and again raped and distorted by politicians and self proclaimed spiritual leaders for their personal gain.</div><br /><br /><div>My ever present angst on this issue was nudged further when I read this New York Times article...<br /></div><br /><div><a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2010/11/28/nyregion/28yoga.html?_r=2&pagewanted=1&emc=eta1">http://www.nytimes.com/2010/11/28/nyregion/28yoga.html?_r=2&pagewanted=1&emc=eta1</a></div><br /><br /><div>It talks of a rising debate on the origin and ownership of yoga. Though debates on the ownership of anything which has tremendous power to benefit humanity seems petty, responses of some involved in this heated debate are interesting to say the least.<br /></div><br /><br /><div>Deepak Chopra dismisses the campaign as "a jumble of faulty history and Hindu Nationalism". I am confused by this statement. Does it mean he is denying that Yoga is a part of the Vedic way of life which has scriptures and texts prescribing,how one should live,worship, eat, pray, marry, treat our ill/old/young, sing, dance and play music etc. And yes, it also at length talks of a form of 'exercise' to keep our minds and bodies healthy...through Yoga. </div><br /><br /><div>And what does he mean by "Hindu Nationalism"? I am Nationalistic not because I am a Hindu or a follower of Vedant, but because I feel a sense of pride in the land where I trace my roots and also because I owe to my land a certain upbringing and culture.</div><br /><br /><div>If I say I am an Indian and Yoga is something I grew up with will it be wrong? I saw my Dad doing yoga everyday. Most of my Uncles, Aunts and cousins do it in some form or other. I see my Father-in-law do pranayam. For any long term ailment which is recurring, Yoga is seen as the solution in our families.</div><br /><div>The small Ved Mandir near my parents house has yoga classes at 5 in the morning everyday. It has been an intrinsic part of my life. I did not have to pay through my teeth to learn it at a fancy Yoga studio. Hence naturally I feel I know it, its part of my culture, and in a way belongs to me. Does this make me a rabid Hindu Nationalist? According to Deepak Chopra's analysis it would!<br /></div><br /><div>Deepak Chopra also labels Hinduism as 'tribal' and 'self-enclosed'. That invites another blog altogether. For now all I will say is that its like calling <em>all</em> Muslims terrorists! </div><br /><div>I can bet my life on the fact that we would not be having this debate if Yoga had not become such a billion dollar industry today. From copyrighting Asanas to merchandising yoga mats to rudrakshas, its capitalism at it best. Not at all keeping true to the nature and philosophy of yoga.</div><br /><div>It is hilarious how these fancy Yoga studios tout that their aim is to make Yoga accessible to one and all. The last time I checked the fees, it made it inaccessible to me at least.</div><br /><div>The neighborhood Ved Mandir in my hometown does a better job by conducting free classes. All are welcome there, which does do justice to Yoga and its philosophy.</div><br /><div>I am aware of the attempted biopiracy of Neem, Basmati, Turmeric, etc.<br /></div><div><a href="http://www.navdanya.org/campaigns/biopiracy">http://www.navdanya.org/campaigns/biopiracy</a></div><br /><div>I am not sure what to call this debate and a clear attempt to hijack Yoga and give it a new history. <strong>Yogajacking?</strong></div><br /><div>The bossy behavior of the West irritates me no doubt, but even more annoying is the 'chalta hai' attitude of my own brethren who will wake up and take notice when half the race has been run. They value what belongs to them only when the Gora counterpart popularizes it! We should wake up and smell the roses. We have a lot to offer,to ourselves and to the world.</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00416492970175334719noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5218035541580952181.post-59531795823533102010-11-21T18:10:00.010-05:002010-11-22T05:20:16.810-05:00The Fourth EstateThe unfolding of the 2 G Spectrum scandal has me in its grip.Not that I never suspected things were pretty bad before, but this was the last straw. The unblemished Fourth Estate have sunk so low, you cannot even bend over and see them. The silence in the mainstream media after the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"><span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">Nira</span></span> <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"><span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">Radia</span></span> tapes is deafening. It is indicative of a collusion of all the media players. Each being quiet because they have something to hide.<br /><br />The tapes of course can be heard on <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error"><span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error">Youtube</span></span>.<br /><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dqnAYhNafOg">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dqnAYhNafOg</a><br /><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2RiFwXoVJLc&feature=related">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2RiFwXoVJLc&feature=related</a><br /><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0XrJqgtKvAs&feature=related">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0XrJqgtKvAs&feature=related</a><br /><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rg0vYQBW0uI&feature=related">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rg0vYQBW0uI&feature=related</a><br /><br />The likes of <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error"><span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error">Ratan</span></span> <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error"><span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error">Tata</span></span>, and <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-error"><span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-error">Ambani</span></span> being embroiled in this case, does not bother me so much because who are we fooling, if we think business is possible without murky, underhand shady dealings. But <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-error"><span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-error">Sanghvi</span></span> and <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" class="blsp-spelling-error"><span id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" class="blsp-spelling-error">Burkha</span></span> <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_8" class="blsp-spelling-error"><span id="SPELLING_ERROR_8" class="blsp-spelling-error">Dutt</span></span> swimming alongside in this sewer makes me angry. Especially since they seem to take the moral high ground and are clearly biased on so many issues. They are entitled to their opinions but unfair reporting and coverage make them unfit for their 'supposed 'professions.<br /><br />Admittedly I was already hopping mad with (as someone referred to her as) 'Bark-huh' <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_9" class="blsp-spelling-error"><span id="SPELLING_ERROR_9" class="blsp-spelling-error">Dutt</span></span> for her amazingly unethical and biased talk shows, where the choice of the panelists is suspect and anyone who does not align with her thought is silenced or purposely misinterpreted. I specifically refer to her panels on the Kashmir Issue. As a <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_10" class="blsp-spelling-error"><span id="SPELLING_ERROR_10" class="blsp-spelling-error">Jammuite</span></span> who does not support Autonomy or <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_11" class="blsp-spelling-error"><span id="SPELLING_ERROR_11" class="blsp-spelling-error">Azadi</span></span>, of my home state <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_12" class="blsp-spelling-error"><span id="SPELLING_ERROR_12" class="blsp-spelling-error">Jammu</span></span> and Kashmir, her skewed panels personally affect me.But the phone leaks of her conversation with <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_13" class="blsp-spelling-error"><span id="SPELLING_ERROR_13" class="blsp-spelling-error">Radia</span></span> are the icing on the cake. I am not sure <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_14" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">whether</span> I should be disheartened by the state of my Nation and all its premier institutions or pump my hand in the air and say "I told you so"!<br /><br /><span id="SPELLING_ERROR_15" class="blsp-spelling-error"><span id="SPELLING_ERROR_14" class="blsp-spelling-error">Dutt</span></span> has denied her power-brokering and probably thinks it is only her and her friends, the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_16" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">pseudo</span>-intellectual mafia of the country who speak or understand English. Rest all of us are still grappling with the complexity and illogicality of the English alphabets and phonics, and hence cannot read the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_17" class="blsp-spelling-error"><span id="SPELLING_ERROR_15" class="blsp-spelling-error">CBI</span></span> and IT department Reports or comprehend the conversation in the tapes.<br /><a href="http://indiasreport.com/magazine/data/the-radia-papers-raja-tata-ambani-connection/">http://indiasreport.com/magazine/data/the-radia-papers-raja-tata-ambani-connection/</a><br /><br />Guilty or not ..God knows! But has it and much more before this, colored my opinion as unfavorable for her and her channel.. a resounding <strong>Yes</strong>!<br /><br />An <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_18" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">interesting</span> and possibly the only positive off -shoot of this whole drama has been the power of <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_19" class="blsp-spelling-error"><span id="SPELLING_ERROR_16" class="blsp-spelling-error">internet</span></span> in breaking through circles of power and corruption and its attempts to silence. Internet has allowed the, shouting out loud, of differing opinions and most likely the truth. <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_20" class="blsp-spelling-error"><span id="SPELLING_ERROR_17" class="blsp-spelling-error">Blogosphere</span></span> is on fire and citizen journalism at its best.<br /><a href="http://swathipradeepworld.wordpress.com/2010/11/18/barkha-dutt-exposed/#comment-491">http://swathipradeepworld.wordpress.com/2010/11/18/barkha-dutt-exposed/#comment-491</a><br /><span id="SPELLING_ERROR_21" class="blsp-spelling-error"><span id="SPELLING_ERROR_18" class="blsp-spelling-error">NDTV</span></span> and <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_22" class="blsp-spelling-error"><span id="SPELLING_ERROR_19" class="blsp-spelling-error">Barkha</span></span> <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_23" class="blsp-spelling-error"><span id="SPELLING_ERROR_20" class="blsp-spelling-error">Dutt's</span></span> arm twisting of a blogger <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_24" class="blsp-spelling-error"><span id="SPELLING_ERROR_21" class="blsp-spelling-error">Kunte</span></span> and his subsequent (smartly worded) apology has only added <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_25" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">fuel</span> to the fire with <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_26" class="blsp-spelling-error"><span id="SPELLING_ERROR_22" class="blsp-spelling-error">FB</span></span> pages sprouting, and condoning the obvious attempts at 'gagging'.<br /><a href="http://www.facebook.com/#!/group.php?gid=51657291081">http://www.facebook.com/#!/group.php?gid=51657291081</a><br /><br />I am not sure what the consequence of this whole sham will be. After all the ones in power are each more corrupt than the other or simply spineless. But hopefully it will have given a jolt to the mainstream media and taught them, that they cannot sit on things and cover up. Thank God for small mercies and technological advancements.<br />Also for many <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_27" class="blsp-spelling-error"><span id="SPELLING_ERROR_23" class="blsp-spelling-error">Barkha</span></span> <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_28" class="blsp-spelling-error"><span id="SPELLING_ERROR_24" class="blsp-spelling-error">Dutt</span></span> lost her <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_29" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">credibility</span> sometime back and now, for even fewer, the greedy mainstream media and especially news channels remain an authentic source of information.<br /><br />All that I have said above are my views and MY views alone. I am not on the payroll of <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_30" class="blsp-spelling-error"><span id="SPELLING_ERROR_25" class="blsp-spelling-error">BJP</span></span> or any other organization. If I was I would not be writing this blog. I would probably be out there, winning some National Award.<br />I am unable to authenticate all my feelings and opinions with hard core evidence. And even if I could I know I can be easily out-shouted, out-screeched and spun around in circles, by these very same journalists, till I would want to bite my own tongue for having ever wanted to speak.<br />I already admit defeat to the new brand of journalists whose purpose and true vocation are lost on me.<br /><br />Moreover and most importantly, I do not have the money to fight it out in the courts. I am your typical honest, serviced middle-class, Indian, and a <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_26" class="blsp-spelling-error">sinlge</span>-earning family-by-choice-for-now-atleast (phew!am I <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_27" class="blsp-spelling-error">gald</span> I got that out there), who has the education, but not the requisite power or money to <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_28" class="blsp-spelling-error">pariticipate</span> in the long running daily soap opera'<em><span id="SPELLING_ERROR_29" class="blsp-spelling-error">sque</span> </em>court<em> </em>cases.<br />The above should be read as it is ..a disclaimer and an attempt seeking protection from lawsuits.<br /><br />At the end all I want to say (to be taken with a grain of salt by all my dear journalist friends, I swear I still love <em>you</em>) is that I always understood why the word Politician was a <em>'<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_31" class="blsp-spelling-error"><span id="SPELLING_ERROR_30" class="blsp-spelling-error">gaali</span></span>'.</em><br />Never understood when words and even colors like Nationalistic, Hindu, Religious,Saffron, Green, and not to miss <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_32" class="blsp-spelling-error"><span id="SPELLING_ERROR_31" class="blsp-spelling-error">Bihari</span></span>/<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_33" class="blsp-spelling-error"><span id="SPELLING_ERROR_32" class="blsp-spelling-error">Bhaiyaji</span></span> came into the same category. (Though I have been told that the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_34" class="blsp-spelling-error"><span id="SPELLING_ERROR_33" class="blsp-spelling-error">Bhaiya</span></span> <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_35" class="blsp-spelling-error"><span id="SPELLING_ERROR_34" class="blsp-spelling-error">jis</span></span> or the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_36" class="blsp-spelling-error"><span id="SPELLING_ERROR_35" class="blsp-spelling-error">Biharis</span></span> are waiting with baited breath for <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_37" class="blsp-spelling-error"><span id="SPELLING_ERROR_36" class="blsp-spelling-error">Nitish</span></span> <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_38" class="blsp-spelling-error"><span id="SPELLING_ERROR_37" class="blsp-spelling-error">Kumar</span></span> to come back into power and change things and <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_38" class="blsp-spelling-error">futher</span> restore their lost regional pride.)<br /><br />What I finally foresee, is the distinct and increasing possibility of the coining of a new<em> <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_39" class="blsp-spelling-error">gaali</span></em> :<br /><br />"<strong>Abbe <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_39" class="blsp-spelling-error"><span id="SPELLING_ERROR_40" class="blsp-spelling-error">ja</span></span>, <em>journalist</em> <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_40" class="blsp-spelling-error"><span id="SPELLING_ERROR_41" class="blsp-spelling-error">kahin</span></span> <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_41" class="blsp-spelling-error"><span id="SPELLING_ERROR_42" class="blsp-spelling-error">ka</span></span>!!!!!*&^%$#@!!!!!</strong>"Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00416492970175334719noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5218035541580952181.post-15738366556843261172010-11-16T17:31:00.005-05:002010-11-17T05:55:45.769-05:00One World at a Time<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu5793kLrLLNnbCK0blXlF22vVSoxioljHFpvnsfg1UZEx8V20spMJZZ7C9hV_zucbGFbQk8clJMR3NDiJoUM_eEw9icSaT_zkFHAx8DlyjCGUFb7LMpr4W_IbOXg0eebYAhyjJPmCZUo/s1600/IMG_1782.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5540454954655402690" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu5793kLrLLNnbCK0blXlF22vVSoxioljHFpvnsfg1UZEx8V20spMJZZ7C9hV_zucbGFbQk8clJMR3NDiJoUM_eEw9icSaT_zkFHAx8DlyjCGUFb7LMpr4W_IbOXg0eebYAhyjJPmCZUo/s400/IMG_1782.jpg" /></a><br /><div>What a coincidence that there I was feeling melancholy and blue when I chanced upon 'Motherhood' a chick-flick, rather a mom-flick starring Uma Thurman. The movie made me a little not-so-blue because I felt I was not alone. Then I read D's post <a href="http://me-letmebme.blogspot.com/2010/11/wanted-working-homemaker.html">http://me-letmebme.blogspot.com/2010/11/wanted-working-homemaker.html</a> and confirmed what I always knew that the 'other' side ( the working women) have their moments too. In fact I feel for 'them' even more.<br /><br />The same day my younger brother who is expecting a baby next March asks me (for once serious) " Di How hard is it to bring up a child?" I did not know where to begin. Should it start from the moment you conceive and feel as if your body has been taken over by aliens. I am sure my husband will agree for the raging hormones did make me seem posessed for a little while atleast. I was happy and glowing most of the times and sometimes resentful as I bloated and expanded horizontally while my husband maintained his waistline. And then I will not even go into the pains of normal childbirth lest my sis in law spends the rest of her pregnancy traumatized and hates me for it afterwards. I will skip the initial trials of everything to do with the baby and the recovery of a post pregnancy, first time or even second time breast feeding, bruised,battered and sore body.<br /><br />Let us focus here on the joy of holding this 'mini version of me/hubby/either of the grandparents/a random relative/a combi of one two or all'.</div><div> The sense of accomplishment. A chance to experience <strong>magic</strong> at close quarters. It is an experience which cannot be substituted by any other. And you spend the rest of your days thinking what did I do before the baby?<br /><br />Aftermath of that new Mommy glow <em><strong>prepare!!!!</strong></em> ..you will be swamped by a growing sense of inadequacy. The constant gnawing guilt that you could do better or are not doing enough. There will be moments of pride simply for being with your child, and doing what you know best but these will be few and far in between.<br /><br />And then again as it is for me today you will be confused and will wonder if there is all that is to it?<br />Who was I and what have I become?<br />Am I not a working Mom because I work hard but at home.<br />Is it not a valued skill or role anymore?<br />If I did not study for this role and am at it for the last few years have I wasted all those degrees from fancy colleges?<br />Will I be able to work outside home ever again?<br />My children will grow up to need me less and less.<br />What and who do I tend, care for, be there for 24/7, chaperone, drive around, feed, bathe, clothe, hold, once they fly off the nest.<br /><br />When people, fellow classmates, friends rattle of their present projects and designation should it suffice to say I am CEO of my household and presently eyeball deep in <strong>"Project Motherhood"</strong><br />Is putting on pause all my dreams for myself and myself alone very unwise?<br />If I hit myself on the head (literally) for whining about "I want my Life back" for what is my Life if not this ...is that wrong?<br /><br />I shall ignore the fact that I look like a thing the cat dragged in while waiting at the bus stop as the smartly dressed, high heeled clad, hair and nails perfectly done, woman, walks by.<br />I know she has her own troubles and I don't mean the killer heels.<br />I will hold that warm little hand, in my hand tighter, for I know it is only for a little while before it leaves me to reach higher.<br />Undoubtedly it is tough to make room for passion and focus on things I enjoy in the structured mundane seemingly petty activities of an all-over-the-place-Mum-only's day.<br />But I must keep trying.<br />I will remember on bad days what my children said to me"Papa <em><strong>only</strong></em> goes to office, but Mamma does <strong><em>everything</em> </strong>:)<br /><br />All I need to remember is that there is a time and place for everything and this is my place and <strong>my world</strong> for now.</div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00416492970175334719noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5218035541580952181.post-9495019856076433702010-11-10T05:25:00.005-05:002010-11-10T07:59:24.110-05:00Diwali Saga in our Household<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs8RCAnA4o4ItWgP3IUZLNAHjzkn-YmoXokBVLkUoxJv5iZ-U1tKtCdZtnccOB90uzlqo5FCtklQHLd67v7QF4E4Mz1G8cq40Uz-8WKT7eOz1KXufMz-BUmoubj8zUuWj-DL92KWSkZsg/s1600/IMG_0638.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5537869000107483730" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs8RCAnA4o4ItWgP3IUZLNAHjzkn-YmoXokBVLkUoxJv5iZ-U1tKtCdZtnccOB90uzlqo5FCtklQHLd67v7QF4E4Mz1G8cq40Uz-8WKT7eOz1KXufMz-BUmoubj8zUuWj-DL92KWSkZsg/s400/IMG_0638.JPG" /></a> Diyas lighted for the Puja<br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1vOsuTGEWI8cUtUUV25r8TT6wWye6wqSQuOPvIbmBtcbhv9DIRTkAQRtpMtpdpY44uo7TtSN5sg8JhZfYENAUxWmUxMFdBz5GCawTLHnVDaXxl8A0wS_zy5amYfHXKPGzuZALn1P3htA/s1600/IMG_0609.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5537868995699470738" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1vOsuTGEWI8cUtUUV25r8TT6wWye6wqSQuOPvIbmBtcbhv9DIRTkAQRtpMtpdpY44uo7TtSN5sg8JhZfYENAUxWmUxMFdBz5GCawTLHnVDaXxl8A0wS_zy5amYfHXKPGzuZALn1P3htA/s400/IMG_0609.JPG" /></a> Kitchen : Weekly Message Board ..Diwali Special</div><div> The NYC Taxi an ode to 7 years spent in the NJ/NY area of USA<br /><br /><div> </div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA_O96ihNmn_XylZujRhw0FcQrfUOyocBa_Z_hUItFBAMF-RBKkZr5NP6jUFT4Kog4Jaqb_9vbYDF4jVkg4Xev8V0OV_Qpq_1gLq0UQ7ZKJf-6x_Z3llC9qIHa2sCz9QPhefP-MAogEqw/s1600/IMG_0602.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5537868986118515122" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA_O96ihNmn_XylZujRhw0FcQrfUOyocBa_Z_hUItFBAMF-RBKkZr5NP6jUFT4Kog4Jaqb_9vbYDF4jVkg4Xev8V0OV_Qpq_1gLq0UQ7ZKJf-6x_Z3llC9qIHa2sCz9QPhefP-MAogEqw/s400/IMG_0602.JPG" /></a> Our Dining Area...tiny..typical of a London flat. Golden Diya cut outs </div><div> pasted on the wall!<br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvLnqG6H_RugdDBAQaqyvnAJlPwbTv9-RVVgpHmvoJedwJC5F8OCQQLQjonRe4vczyJCapdUI2tpt1G0r-4ORtkzml-A0KucTd-1DYBsuzhYMxwevUe8z62YLCZGGsR1iuMe4R-8U1Gu0/s1600/IMG_0596.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5537868981768427682" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvLnqG6H_RugdDBAQaqyvnAJlPwbTv9-RVVgpHmvoJedwJC5F8OCQQLQjonRe4vczyJCapdUI2tpt1G0r-4ORtkzml-A0KucTd-1DYBsuzhYMxwevUe8z62YLCZGGsR1iuMe4R-8U1Gu0/s400/IMG_0596.JPG" /></a> Diyas<br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR1TubuH3K0L8gl_2Q8uI1RMzkm1mrdDE6t6Q_XEZJAVXU-XaW0q-1_qPzFvp1WjRfnQQnGr30s6HxsFsfTi3gcwa3rLgViNUdRUw0VIsavpnY8KfE45ZuC1enX98q1LQytyLyX-fr8Nk/s1600/IMG_0590.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5537868979224552962" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR1TubuH3K0L8gl_2Q8uI1RMzkm1mrdDE6t6Q_XEZJAVXU-XaW0q-1_qPzFvp1WjRfnQQnGr30s6HxsFsfTi3gcwa3rLgViNUdRUw0VIsavpnY8KfE45ZuC1enX98q1LQytyLyX-fr8Nk/s400/IMG_0590.JPG" /></a> Corner Table...Silver and Brass<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP73kfdlyJj8DBfMz3P86Bz86g1AUb_MVAUUdEv6idc3px9-rrC0afBSRwAfameHhh7vNtbN5Qc4HPiooWlmYP6CCmcByLJVB8K3m96NjvbicOQhyphenhyphenebKgXaevfJVK94e8tsqUQPjEbF04/s1600/IMG_0588.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5537866915936311618" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP73kfdlyJj8DBfMz3P86Bz86g1AUb_MVAUUdEv6idc3px9-rrC0afBSRwAfameHhh7vNtbN5Qc4HPiooWlmYP6CCmcByLJVB8K3m96NjvbicOQhyphenhyphenebKgXaevfJVK94e8tsqUQPjEbF04/s400/IMG_0588.JPG" /></a> A Tea Light Holder which goes with the Indian Decor of my </div><div> Living Area<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2pc9RLVuHdWr0eM-L2hbFQs3jPAsu0L2sXLq0oik5CnQg2Miu-x_IEYp1usEccsnL5_FVDytfJHP32ZEp7br8YPQeVxRYm3hgOj1Oy1u9VyYGjZscTe-AHFdzkqj2RMZ6p7oMa1n1SGA/s1600/IMG_0659.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5537866912326527298" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2pc9RLVuHdWr0eM-L2hbFQs3jPAsu0L2sXLq0oik5CnQg2Miu-x_IEYp1usEccsnL5_FVDytfJHP32ZEp7br8YPQeVxRYm3hgOj1Oy1u9VyYGjZscTe-AHFdzkqj2RMZ6p7oMa1n1SGA/s400/IMG_0659.JPG" /></a> An attempt at Rangoli...a variation on the imprint of Goddess</div><div> Laxmi's Feet<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlI9cTPfIRVg7B_vwtAiwGhPcalFIAQpgCicVEN3FlaGnUW8Z4lPskekeGsdyntrblqpl9voWU8RAcx9ovAj064W9oCdmI4J-5AB4BFLWyA1X-B-4nxE48SUzWZhIXobLNU-syw9IlnOo/s1600/IMG_0576.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5537866905930446114" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlI9cTPfIRVg7B_vwtAiwGhPcalFIAQpgCicVEN3FlaGnUW8Z4lPskekeGsdyntrblqpl9voWU8RAcx9ovAj064W9oCdmI4J-5AB4BFLWyA1X-B-4nxE48SUzWZhIXobLNU-syw9IlnOo/s400/IMG_0576.JPG" /></a> Puja Prep with Son's Diwali Craft as the backdrop<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikJu8vxQTrhyy1ScnGZAg3Pz14LOjxiSvYd2LMIVHWlpAklNYHZ0HICSiLmK2L3hfCpZHjAYwf2cCJPuznlQQxPtvtdqJj4BTZJm6mqPq_UCwdHsU3gG6-Q4pxH7vNODBA4HJT_KBaVEc/s1600/IMG_0574.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5537866893509265282" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikJu8vxQTrhyy1ScnGZAg3Pz14LOjxiSvYd2LMIVHWlpAklNYHZ0HICSiLmK2L3hfCpZHjAYwf2cCJPuznlQQxPtvtdqJj4BTZJm6mqPq_UCwdHsU3gG6-Q4pxH7vNODBA4HJT_KBaVEc/s400/IMG_0574.JPG" /></a> Art Work done at school by my son adorning the Fridge<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPI8GuN2sgJrA-bC9xJ84AVuqva3WEemK4CUbLabN8X8GjOjgZ4tg22IxjsRLlCdBMPNS7aK00BtSmiN-9-ulOY6ARXsgPlaWYqlZFDJEP_lhihaR7WdVkXkOF-EoOOH9Rq1T8Ah205LA/s1600/IMG_0569.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5537866890528121586" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPI8GuN2sgJrA-bC9xJ84AVuqva3WEemK4CUbLabN8X8GjOjgZ4tg22IxjsRLlCdBMPNS7aK00BtSmiN-9-ulOY6ARXsgPlaWYqlZFDJEP_lhihaR7WdVkXkOF-EoOOH9Rq1T8Ah205LA/s400/IMG_0569.JPG" /></a> Wish had paid more attention in the craft classes at school..</div><div> attempts to make the entrance festive :)<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00416492970175334719noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5218035541580952181.post-66988698539514326542010-09-17T19:36:00.009-04:002010-09-17T20:13:51.556-04:00Another voice which echos my thoughts...I am in awe of this man...Arnab Ray for saying it as it is and saying it so well. In times when it is fashionable to be secular, (whatever that means) and label everything evil as saffron terror/ Radical Hindu state, this comes as a breath of fresh air. It also is loaded with courage, for he who speaks like this stands alone today. But we the people of Jammu...or atleast I a person of Jammu cannot agree more with you :)<br /><br />Before I give the link of the suggested and highly recommended post by Radical Thoughts of a Demented Minf aka Arnab Ray, some points to be kept in mind.The points have been duly typed and sent to me by my young cousin living in Jammu."Young Troubled and Gravely Conecerned Cousin" I quote you here...<br /><br />"Both in population and area wise jammu region is many folds ahead but in figures but we get less seats both in state assembly and parliament..our representation has been restricted .. out of the total annual funds for j&k (9000cr ) jammu gets 750 cr and ladakh 250 cr, rest resides with kashmir.. there is nit in srinagar , 3 medical colleges and various educational institutes ,, but when jammu was sanctioned central university , there was resentment in kashmir and finally kapil sibal has to ammend law by offering one university to jammu & one to kashmir... the annual amarnath yatra has been restricted to 2 months and every food(langar) stall during yatra is charged 25000 each in the name of tax. home ministers said that kashmiris are unemployed that's why they adopt the path of violence but 45% kasmiris are govt. servants and rest are induldge in private and co-operative sector and only4% are bpl ( below poverty line) contradictory to Jammu.. Jammu is isolated when it comes to development and progress ... .. In this part of world " survival of the fittest" is the point to remember otherwise you would be ruined. we are paying the price of the blunders by our duo leaders nehru & gandhi ...... But still, peole of"city of Temples " are optimistic and hopeful that all this will end one day and they will live in a atmosphere of peace, prosperity and a real human development will be possible where all the three regions will get their due share and again it will become " the paradise on earth" in a real sense."<br /><br />The Must read post by a Non JK State Subject:<br /><a href="http://greatbong.net/2010/09/16/more-on-azaadi-and-kashmir">http://greatbong.net/2010/09/16/more-on-azaadi-and-kashmir</a><br /><a href="http://greatbong.net/2010/09/16/more-on-azaadi-and-kashmir"></a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00416492970175334719noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5218035541580952181.post-73469060022480023412010-09-14T12:02:00.000-04:002010-09-14T12:03:36.129-04:00My Voice...WILL WE HAVE TO PICK UP THAT STONE TO BE HEARD?<br /><br />The first time around when there was terror unfolding in the valley we, the Dogras watched in pain and mute horror. In the aftermath we opened our hearts and hearths to our shell shocked and exiled brothers, the Kashmiri Pandits.<br /><br />The second time around we watched in growing frustration as we were portrayed as the rabid, fundamentalist, right wing Hindus as the peaceful Amarnath Yatra became a major issue in the state with national political parties also playing mischief and trying to get as much mileage as they could from it. Immediately after being misunderstood, misrepresented and being shouted down by over-zealous and biased TV Hosts in various programs, the youth and the old alike catapulted into action. A host of online groups were launched. An immediate need to address our identity crisis was deemed necessary. The demand for a separate state Duggar Pradesh became louder than a whisper. We did all this because we woke up to the fact that yes indeed we were the step-child. <br /><br />The third time around the problem has magnified, made only glaring by the fact that we lack good orators, and courageous and visionary leaders. Our Hindi is not so great and our English, a language better understood by the majority of those who form opinions and take vocal stands, even worse. With an escalating sense of abandonment we have watched the coverage of the drama in the valley. We have waited that someone; anyone will ask us what we feel and what we want. We are amazed that mainland India, the political leaders and the media have blinders on. They refuse to see that the state of Jammu and Kashmir has different ethnic groups with different loyalties. <br /> <br />The Ruler of Jammu and Kashmir, a Dogra signs the Instrument of Accession, Nehru, a Kashmiri Pandit blunders afterwards and yet amongst all…the Dogras (Hindus and Muslims) , the Kashmiri Pandits, Ladakhis( Buddhists), Gujjars(Muslims), Bakerwals (Muslims), Sikhs. Paharis, Poonchis (Muslims and Hindus) it is only one group which asks for Azadi and Autonomy or accession to Pakistan!!! Has anyone questioned why? Has anyone demanded to hear from the other actors of this high strung drama?<br />We the Dogras have always been voiceless. The Kashmiri Pandits who did manage to get well deserved sympathy after the mass exodus are becoming victims of weak memories and are out-shouted by their brothers who continue to live in the Valley.<br /> <br />I am a generation who has grown up witnessing and hearing about gross injustices playing out in the state. Despite being a larger geographical area and with a greater population the Jammu Region has only 37 seats compared to the 47 from the valley. 70% of the government jobs go to the Kashmiris as opposed to all the other communities from the state. All the money flowing into the state goes to the valley. Kashmiri ad hoc government employees earn more than their Dogra counterparts. The Valley wants the Central University and IIM (Indian Institute of Management) to come up in Srinagar as opposed to Jammu or Ladakh. They created a hue and cry to oppose it coming up in Jammu!!<br />We have seen systematic ethnic cleansing in the valley. We have witnessed the Kashmiri Pandit exodus from the valley and the massacre of the Sikhs in Chattisinghpora. We are aware of the continued threat to the Hindus, Sikhs and any India supporter. I have heard of my people complaining that we are suffering the mistakes committed by Nehru. We have suffered terribly under the draconian Article 370. I know Ladakhis do not want to be administered by the Kashmiris from the valley. On one hand a Dogra girl will have no right to property in her home state if she marries a non-state subject, even if it is a Dogra from Himachal Pradesh or Punjab. And on the other hand grooms from POK and Pakistan are brought into the state under any pretext. Sometime back there was even a discussion in the Assembly that a non domicile daughter in law should lose her right to property in the state in the eventuality of the demise of her husband. Is this not a gross violation of basic human rights? The Kashmiris from the valley are buying lands and apartments all around me in Jammu but I cannot dare to do the same in the valley. Is this not an extension of subtle but sure ethnic cleansing?<br /><br />On what grounds is it justified that just one of the many players gets to decide that they want to break away? After the systematic cleansing of the Kashmiri Pandit after torture, killing, rapes and worse how can one expect a fair plebiscite and a just demand for autonomy? <br /><br />There have been demographic changes on the other side of Pir Panchal too. Hindus have been driven away in the Jammu division too, by home grown militants, foreign mercenaries and ISI operatives. Village Defense Committees have had to be set up and innocent villagers have been armed so that they can fight the so called “Freedom Fighters” who rapes his women and kills his kinsmen. A detailed study of the Operation Hill Kaka in the Mendhar Region highlights the fact that villagers, Muslim Gujjars helped the Army to flush out the terrorists hiding in the adjacent mountains. Their human rights were brutally violated and they snapped out of the mass and false propaganda to fight against the militants. My family member too, an innocent civilian Doctor posted in a mountain hamlet has been shot at and managed to escape with 3 bullet wounds to his body and 70 bullets to his car. Is this in any way in tandem with the insincere voice from the Valley which says we want the Pandits back? <br /><br />There is no denying that stories of Sufi traditions and harmonious co-existence are a thing of the past. The present generation of Kashmiris in the valley, hate India, very clearly mirroring policies and even getting covert direction from Pakistan but the Dogras and Kashmiri Pandits reciprocate the sentiment keeping their fervor of Azadi from this tyranny and violence alive. I have heard Kashmiri Pandits who have been driven away from their homes say that they prefer to destroy/burn Kashmir rather than see it separate from India.<br />We have seen how money coming from the Centre has been lapped up in the Valley. We are put off by the double standards, practiced in the valley. There are the well- to- do Kashmris who are getting richer and louder day-by day. As opposed to the poor Kashmiri who is sitting on a rickshaw, going down some dusty lane in Central India selling carpets in attempt to make ends meet. His children cannot go to school because the more powerful Kashmiri tells him not to do so or the militant beats him if he dares oppose. Meanwhile the children of the well off Kashmiri get degrees in quick succession, out of the state and holds placards in front of UN agencies in far away lands.<br /><br />We believe that the stone pelting, Indian flag burning, Kashmiri has many faces. Some who actually believe their cause? Some who are brainwashed and are victims of the herd mentality. And there are many who are being paid for it. It has indeed become an organized crime. We believe that these stones that are being thrown today have been collected over a period of time and there is a certain going rate for a day of stone throwing.<br /><br />As a people of the state we are pained by the human rights violations occurring in the valley and beyond. But we see that the abuse is happening from the armed forces as well as the militants. We agree on the concept of gradual de-militarization. But we will never agree to Autonomy. We dare not compare notes on our sufferings but that does not stop us from being victims too. We are a people who not want to be invisible anymore. And unfortunately we are beginning to come to terms with the fact that we may be heard and seen only if we pick up that stone too.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00416492970175334719noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5218035541580952181.post-76440326283062450802010-09-02T05:39:00.002-04:002010-09-02T05:42:27.077-04:00Practicing VedaantThis is an older post with a new title. This one is especially for you Chachu. It does not cover Vedaant in its absolute entirety obviously, but touches upon a few ways it touches my way of life.....<br /><br />I am the New Minority. I am young and I am deeply religious. I am not God fearing but God loving.<br />I am a little weary of the ongoing litany, that non religious is the harbinger of peace and religious means trouble. I agree with the seperation of the religion and the state but fail to see the reasoning behind distancing the individual from faith. I need to make a case for myself and people like me.<br /><br />I was born religious, then I became indifferent and then rediscovered my faith and became religious again. Religious and secular are not two opposing forces. Though this holds good for those alone who understand and practice the tenets of their faith in all honesty. <br />I am not in a position to write about this journey or my faith in absolute terms because I am still learning. I will touch on some things which change color and content for me as I slowly discover.<br /><br /><strong>My Approach</strong><strong>:</strong> "Sarvasya Chaham Hridhi Sanni Vishto" Bhagvad Geeta, which translated means: All are equal since He resides in all of us.<br />I believe in One creator. Hence everyone irrespective of color, race,religion,caste or creed is a creation of that One Supreme Being.Will I hate/kill another human being because they belong to another faith.? Never, because I believe in Divine Brotherhood under the Fatherhood of God. And it is my religion which teaches me that God is within me as well as in others. <br /><br /><strong>My Temple:</strong> My Temple is certainly not one for which I stand in line for hours and could, maybe cut that wait short by bribing the priest or making a handsome donation, where they have a separate line for people based on the amount being donated, where one jostles amongst unruly crowds and is afraid of one's modesty and wallet, where the Idol is adorned with gold and diamonds and Rolex watches when there is a line of starved beggar children outside.<br />My temple or 'Amrutalayam' is Vedic in its concept and character. It is made of local materials and by local resources and is a socio economic center too.A place where all are equal in the eyes of God. It is simple and peaceful enabling a conversation with God and fellow human beings. Its a place where one could study the Geeta/Bible/Koran. Its a temple where the 'Brahman' teaches and simplifies the scriptures for me and not just chants Sanskrit shlokhas which make no sense to me.<br />It is a place where people donate because they believe the wealth they give is Gods share and that wealth, then is given to those who need it as Prasad, most likely in the dark of the night,anonymously.The concept of this impersonal wealth leaves no room for any feelings of superiority/inferiority between the giver and receiver.<br /><br /><strong>My Caste:</strong> 'Brahman/Kshatriya/Vaishya/Shudra'...Caste was not an adjective but an adverb. I am not a Brahman because my father is...I am not born into a caste category , I become one due to my 'work'. I am a Brahman if I selflessly teach, I am a Kshatriya because I am responsible for the socio-political running of the city/state, I am a Vaishya because I am an entrepreneur, and I am a Shudra if I am a service provider...a engg./doctor etc. <br />When the scriptures talk about the glory of a Brahman, it is not the Brahman they talk of but "Brahmanatva"...a quality...a teacher who selflessly teaches the scriptures, an educationist who moulds the future generations, imparts life skills and not livelihood skills alone. And all this and more is done as a non commercial activity. Hence the Vedic society protected and cared for its Brahmans. Gurudakshina was not a compulsion yet something everybody did. A child would not be refused admission to a particular Gurukul because of a paucity of funds. State interference in the education system was unthinkable. The brahmin was free and independent and hence the best teacher. The society provided for him because he did not ask anything in exchange of what he gave. Our education system is a failure because it is a commercial enterprise, because state interference is the norm of the day. Because as a society we fail to take care of our teachers and as people we confuse education with livelihood training. <br />All varnas/castes are interdependent and there exists no hierarchy. <br /><br /><strong>My Feminism:</strong> The Royal Guru Vashishtha saying that Sita is the most able to rule Ayodhya, in the absence of Ram, is my idea of feminism. Sita choosing to follow her husband into the forest is love. I did the same I left my work, my life to follow my husband across the globe. Does that make me a weak woman? Is my worth measured only by the amount of money I bring in at the end of the month? I do nothing, if I do not have a pay slip/fancy designation to show for it? Do I need to abuse my body by drinking ,smoking, showing my cleavage to prove that I am emancipated? Must I leave my 6 month old baby with hired help/day care to prove that I got an excellent education.Those are choices and definitely not a show of my freedom.<br />"Stree Shakti/woman power has been recognized and worshipped in my faith. I am an 'Ardhangini' or an equal half in the partnership of marriage.The hand that rocks the cradle rules the world is amply visible in the stories of so many great women...Aditi, Anusuya,Jija Bai etc. <br />Vedic theology conceives God as bipolar, having both male and female aspects.Vedic religion treats man and woman as equal. <br />P.S do not waste time reading the countless and completely wrong translations (sanskrit is a language in which 1 sentence could be understood in 3 different ways) and interpretations (there have been both conscious and un conscious efforts to malign vedic philosophy and literature). I can only suggest,get a Teacher who is well versed in Sanskrit and is a Vedic Scholar.<br /><br /><strong>My Environmentalism:</strong> The Tenth Adhyaya of Geeta talks about the presence of God in the mountains, rivers, trees, land, air, water. If we only understood this without just casually brushing it off as nature worship/pagan religion, we would not be wracking our brains to reverse global warming and climate change. We need to look at the deeper thought than getting put off by the idea of watering a Tulsi and doing circles around a tree or worshipping a cow. Doing it mindlessly of course, also serves no purpose.<br />My religion teaches me to take nothing for granted and certainly not abuse what is a precious gift.<br /><br /><strong>My Self Worth:</strong> Ishavasya Upanishad warns of becoming a victim to "vishay". Subjective happiness versus objective happiness.I am not incomplete because I do not have a fancy job title. I am not incomplete because I do not earn a jaw dropping salary. I am not incomplete if I do not own a fancy apartment or car. I do not become less if I am not vacationing in Europe. Should I wallow in self pity or spend thousands for plastic surgery if I do not meet the ever changing societal standards of beauty. List is endless and from the society's perspective I cannot please all and never will...and since the society at large is misdirected, should I care?<br />I am complete and I strive for subjective happiness ( easier said than done, but I am practicing...and God, is it tough or what Phew!!!).<br /><br /><strong>My Fasts:</strong> The many fasts where people eat more than on reguar days are senseless. My fast is a way to detoxify and to not waste time on cooking. That time is to be used for doing God's work which of course does not mean bhajan keertan and prayer beads. It could mean amongst other things going out and meeting someone for no reason at all. Connecting with another human being, where no 'len'den'/ transaction is involved.To develop a relationship with another human being and to do something for them selflessly. Try it out... I was surprised by what doing for others,did for me. <br /><br />There are many more things...........but I am still learning and loving every step of it. I am religious and deeply so and I am not sorry for it. Do I seem like a threat? And yes years and years of contortion and corruption will not stop me from researching and re-learning. I have a brain and I can distinguish between ritualism and religion. Thank God for an excellent teacher. For how do I learn my religion if not from a teacher, a true Brahman. My parents could not teach me all. I saw rituals and no religion around me...everywhere. Thats was and still is very unattractive. <br />My religion teaches me reverence for everyone and everything. This reverential attitude towards the world is a direct and natural result of acceptance of God who resides in one and all. Some fools who do not understand and practice my faith in its true essence, cannot stop me from doing so.<br /><br />True Bhakti for me is a powerful positive social force which inspires me to pray everyday for universal peace and happiness.<br /><br /> <strong>"Sarvetra Sukhinah Santo Sarve Santo Niramaya<br /> Sarve Bhadrane Pashyantu Ma Kvashchit Dukhmapunyaat"</strong><br /><br />Meaning : <br /> <strong>"Everybody here should be happy. All should be free of pain and problems. All should see only good. No human being should suffer."</strong>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00416492970175334719noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5218035541580952181.post-69946193435233528252010-08-26T06:23:00.005-04:002010-08-26T06:27:30.613-04:00WILL WE HAVE TO PICK UP THAT STONE TO BE HEARDAn excerpt of an article I am working on which is refelective of the growing frustartion of my people the Dogras and other ethnicities like Kashmiri Pandits, Ladakhis, Sikhs living in Jammu and Kashmir. In a clear absence of a forum where we can be heard I am writing this. We are not invisible and we will not be voiceless........<br /><br /><br /><br />The Ruler of Jammu and Kashmir, a Dogra signs the Instrument of Accession, Nehru, a Kashmiri Pandit blunders afterwards and yet amongst all…the Dogras (Hindus and Muslims) , the Kashmiri Pandits, Ladakhis( Buddhists), Gujjars(Muslims), Bakerwals (Muslims), Sikhs. Paharis, Poonchis (Muslims and Hindus) it is only one group which asks for Azadi and Autonomy or accession to Pakistan!!! Has anyone questioned why? Has anyone demanded to hear from the other actors of this high strung drama?<br />We the Dogras have always been voiceless. The Kashmiri Pandits who did manage to get well deserved sympathy after the mass exodus are becoming victims of weak memories and are out-shouted by their brothers who continue to live in the Valley.<br /> <br />I am a generation who has grown up witnessing and hearing about gross injustices playing out in the state. Despite being a larger geographical area and with a greater population the Jammu Region has only 37 seats compared to the 47 from the valley. 70% of the government jobs go to the Kashmiris as opposed to all the other communities from the state. All the money flowing into the state goes to the valley. Kashmiri ad hoc government employees earn more than their Dogra counterparts. The Valley wants the Central University and IIM (Indian Institute of Management) to come up in Srinagar as opposed to Jammu or Ladakh. They created a hue and cry to oppose it coming up in Jammu!!<br />We have seen systematic ethnic cleansing in the valley. We have witnessed the Kashmiri Pandit exodus from the valley and the massacre of the Sikhs in Chattisinghpora. We are aware of the continued threat to the Hindus, Sikhs and any India supporter. I have heard of my people complaining that we are suffering the mistakes committed by Nehru. We have suffered terribly under the draconian Article 370. I know Ladakhis do not want to be administered by the Kashmiris from the valley. On one hand a Dogra girl will have no right to property in her home state if she marries a non-state subject, even if it is a Dogra from Himachal Pradesh or Punjab. And on the other hand grooms from POK and Pakistan are brought into the state under any pretext. Sometime back there was even a discussion in the Assembly that a non domicile daughter in law should lose her right to property in the state in the eventuality of the demise of her husband. Is this not a gross violation of basic human rights? The Kashmiris from the valley are buying lands and apartments all around me in Jammu but I cannot dare to do the same in the valley. Is this not an extension of subtle but sure ethnic cleansing?<br /><br />On what grounds is it justified that just one of the many players gets to decide that they want to break away? After the systematic cleansing of the Kashmiri Pandit after torture, killing, rapes and worse how can one expect a fair plebiscite and a just demand for autonomy?Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00416492970175334719noreply@blogger.com10