WRB

I went to a girls' school and did not have to pay any fees thanks to Maharashtra government's scheme of free secondary education for girls.

After my XII, I was lucky to get admission in IT in a Women's college. Boys with the same rank as mine certainly did not qualify for the same branch in an equally good college.

I am a good example of how reservations bring unfair advantages to sections of the society that don't need the benefits.

I could have afforted to pay the fees and was privileged enough to be able to secure a college admission solely on merit.

So yes, I agree with some of the arguments made by the staunch opposition to the Womens' reservation bill. Whether the bill in itself is going to directly empower women is a different discussion. But my attempt today is to justify the idea that such measures gradually break gender sterotypes.

Brinda Karat says, "women today are still caught in a culture prison. In the name of tradition, stereotypes are imposed and we have to fight these every day." And we do not even have to look as far as a woman leading a village panchayat for examples of the change reservations can bring.

Quite a few of my batchmates in college were allowed to study away from home staying in a hostel only because it was a Women's university. The alternative for them was to live with family, study in the town college and probably compromise on opportunity and exposure.

Many people still have an iron clad perception of what an 'Indian' woman should look like or how she should behave or in whose company she can be or how she should live her life.

Seeing more women in positions of influence will broaden the frame of reference and dissolve orthodox notions that women are held to.

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Sometimes being there for someone is not being there at all.


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Deja-Vu

He loosened his tie as the cab rolled on slowly in the traffic. He threw his head back and shut his eyes. What a week. He had not expected the trip to be this busy and taxing. Every day had drawn on till late, leaving him listless and heavy headed with barely enough energy to crawl back to the hotel.



He had not taken the guys out for drink. He could not head out his favourite pub and play pool. He had not called his old buddies yet. But today, today he had taken the afternoon off. Work was almost over and he was leaving tomorrow. Besides, how could he not? It had been 4 years since ...




He jumped out of the cab at the park and quickly strolled in. It was late in the afternoon and a hot day but the skaters whizzed past him relentlessly. A quick scan around and he slowly smiled as he realized she was late. He bought a sandwich from the vendor and sat down on the bench.




As he slowly looked around again, he could see the signs of change. The fancy outdoor theatre, the new jazz bar, the imposing modern sculpture. It was all too alien and all strangely familiar. The place reminiscent of a time when they dreamed and believed in soulmates. Sometimes, it is astonishing how much of our past lives we can fold and seal away until a fragrance, a picture , a song brings all those memories back in full flood.




This was a first. He would be waiting by now. She paused on her way to look at the glass windows of the ticket booth. The face staring back at her was anxious. She smoothed her hair down and dabbed on some gloss as she entered the park. "I should calm down", she thought for the tenth time. But she had been nervous since the sms earlier that day.


And then just as she spotted him, he turned and looked right at her. She could see the streak of grey had increased but he still looked young. "Ah! Men are so lucky. They always look like boys", she thought. And as their eyes met, the years of exile melted away and she broke into a big smile.




"Her hair is still the same" a voice spoke in his head the instant he saw her. He stood up and walked towards her slowly. And when he saw her smile, it was as if nothing had changed. A small knot deep in his chest
dissolved and he smiled back at her radiantly.




"Hey"


"Hey, how are you?", she said.


There was brief pause as they held each other's gaze.


"You look the same", he said.


"Yeah, same but older".


"Older is wiser", he countered.


And pat came the reply with a sly smile ,"yeah if I had a clump of grey hair I'd like to believe I am wiser too".

And then she saw the sandwich on the bench "Have you eaten?"

It was his turn. "Is that the first thing you can think of to say after four years? "


They laughed and walked towards the row of street food stalls and tables.


"How is everyone at home?"


"Fine"


"Hmmm.. everyone says I'm fine.."


She nodded.





And then they started to talk. About everything. Everything they had held back all this while, everything they were desperate to share but resolved never to. About anger and frustration and hope and hurt and happiness and shame and victories and downfalls. Thoughts they both knew only the other could understand.


And as it grew darker, the voices died.


They got up and walked to the edge of the water. And , maybe for the last time, sat on the hard ground, holding hands, the water lapping at their heels.



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Everybody Hurts

Mark Twain says, "The worst loneliness is to not be comfortable with yourself."

I think it is the worst punishment.

How bitter it is to look at the mirror and see a person you have lost respect for.

And even on the brightest and sunniest days in future, the image will be a haunting reminder of how you were at the lowest point in your life.


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Electric boots and a mohair suit

Benny and the Jets on 27 dresses again.

Why do I love this song so much ?


Is it the slow pulsating rythym  or Elton John's voice as it floats effortlessly over the high note at "magaziiine".


The song is great for all moods - brassy and brazen , or sad and soulful , or sultry and sensuous.


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At last ..

I found it.

It has been many, many months now since I started looking for a really good Indian news site - a site with comprehensive, cerebral, well-organized and well-formatted content.


Frustrated with BBC's laconic approach towards Asian news and ndtv's penchant for luridness I sat wondering how the hallmarks of journalistic brilliance had disappeared


Idly I seeked out the Hindu online and came across a page that looked like an enhanced digital scan of the paper in print. It wasn’t very encouraging but then, I chanced to click on a link to their beta site.


And my friends, I am happy to proclaim, there will be no looking back.


http://beta.thehindu.com/


This is the link. Read it. Tag it. Bookmark it.

If you are tired of front pages reporting bolly wood stories ,

if you abhor the sight of ten lines of a story squashed between 'pictures of hot celebrities' and an ad for money to India,

if you are one of those people who still believe what your teacher told you in school (Read the newspaper editorial , it will improve your English ),

if you still value analytical features over a flash news ticker ... then dear friend, your search is over.


I was mesmerized by the well-spaced layout and font, the subdued colours, the beauty of language, and the erudite columns.



Also featured is a lecture by Guardian editor "Does journalism exist?"


Quoting from that lecture on the subject of what constitutes good journalism is the following -


"they seemed to represent the best of journalistic virtues – courage, campaigning, toughness, compassion, humour, irreverence; a serious engagement with serious things; a sense of fairness; an eye for injustice; a passion for explaining; knowing how to achieve impact; a connection with readers. "


I hope and wish The Hindu online is well on its way to embody these virtues.




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Cupid's Day

 

 

My three little lights keep me company as this thought looms large on my mind today

It must have been really love, isn't it, when memories are enough to soothe the agony and fill the void.

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