She

She is a journalist

During protests and movements

During elections and Emergencies

During poverty and abuse

During war and violence

During arrests and investigations

She is the truth.

She is a writer

Of realistic characters in realistic worlds

Of partying students and dreamy intellectuals

Of stories of friendship and ambition

Of murder mysteries and action-packed thrillers

Stories to get lost in

She captures you.

She is a musician

Uncontrollable, irresistible

Intense, all-consuming

Overwhelming melodies.

Real feelings, true stories

You will always remember

The first time you heard her play.

She works in the government

She listens, she cares

She researches and studies

She takes a stand, the right one

She investigates and prosecutes

She implements policy and programmes

She is change.

Clarity

Clarity

The thing I want the most now

The thing that seems the hardest to find

The paths leading to it have been built

I need not find the road less travelled

I just want to find the highway

Confusion doesn’t suit me

In courses, jobs, decisions, friends

It makes me stupid and frustrated

I want to make informed decisions

Randomness or baseless analysis doesn’t suit me

But I don’t have the information I need.

There don’t seem to be any street lights

Highways never do have any, I’ve noticed

I have to find the highway without a map

I’ll stumble around, take a few wrong turns

I will eventually find clarity, I know

I’d just rather it be now, than five, ten years from now.

About Helplessness and Frustration

I'm living in the "international dorm" in my university in Florida. Half of us in this dorm are international exchange students. The group of friends that I've made consists of people from all around the world. The diversity of the group often leads to discussions and comparisions of life back home, from food and shopping, to governments and laws.

Last week, when we were looking to rent a car for the weekend, the talk turned to driving. We discussed the differences in driving laws - I mentioned that all my driving test consisted of was one U-turn, my Peruvian friend said that in Peru, you can get out of traffic tickets by bribing the cop, I agreed with her. From which point, the talk turned to the police and law implementation.

All this tied in with some articles I've been reading recently. Tehelka carried an article about the botching up of the Aarushi Talwar case by the CBI, Annie Zaidi published links to articles about further incompetence, brutality and corruption of cops (here and here), Dilip D'Souza poignantly displayed the utter stupidity and blatant incompetence of police offers in a court case. And I remember walking with a friend and talking about how I've never been asked for ID in any bar in Delhi, and how easy it is to find drugs or bribe a cop to get out of a traffic ticket in Delhi. And I remember telling her that we read and hear a lot about the corruption of cops, or their incompetence, but we never really hear about the good cops. Surely there must be some.

But these succession of articles are so frustrating, so shocking, they leave me feeling so overwhelmingly helpless that I start doubting that belief. If there are some good cops, where are they? Why do I hear only about events and behaviours that should be hard to believe, but sadly are so familiar that they're not even particularly surprising?  Why is it that I'm beginning to doubt my comment that there are good cops in India, they're just never talked about?

What went wrong? Why are there so many bad cops? Corruption is one thing - at least there's some gain to be seen, which provides an explanation for why. But what do police officers gain from imprisoning and harassing 23 men without even telling them the reason for their arrest? How can that possibly not sound blatantly wrong? What reason could a public servant, an officer of the law in a democratic country, have for doing that?

I believe that I've been lucky. I've never been stopped by a cop, nor ever needed a cop for a crime that happened to me. But I'm still so scared - what if someday I need the police? What if I need them to solve a crime, and they display their incompetence? What if someday I'm at the receiving end of their incomprehensible bullshit treatment of citizens? It's frustrating and depressing enough about to hear of such things happening to strangers. How would I handle it if it was me, or someone I cared about? Is there even a way of seeking redressal? Is there a way out of a situation where the police refuse to protect evidence or do a thorough investigation into a murder? Is there a way to do something, anything when trumped up or incomprehensibly random "evidence" is used in a trial to convict a citizen?

How Does That Happen?

From all the time to once a week,
From meetings to emails,
From calls to texts,
How does that happen?

From so close to secretive,
From acceptance to accusations,
From forgiveness to bitterness,
How does that happen?

From understand to confusion,
From laughter to silence,
From sureness to jealousy,
How does that happen?

From love to indifference,
From caring to convenience,
From best friends to acquaintances,
How does that happen?

I Wish I Could..

Write like I want to

Make you cry through my songs

Take those photos

Sketch a cartoon

Appreciate “good” books

Work harder

Find what I love.

Keep in touch with old friends

Talk easily

Recognise toxic relationships

Make you see, understand

Make you care

Let go of what hurts

Forget.

Think clearly

Know what I want

Get what I want

Not be lazy

Unveil my path

Save the world

And so much more.

Me

The soft, not just the shine

The meaning, not just the smile

The choice, not the clothes

The expressions, not the face

The beliefs, not just the debate

The dreams, not just the fight

The words, not the voice

The feelings, not just the storm

The feel, not the look

The mind, not the body

The inner, not the outer

The melody and the lyrics, not the plastic casing

See me.

The Good And The Bad

I had a Political Science class yesterday. We started discussing how the same concepts impact different countries differently. The talk came round to India. Since I was one of the two Indians in the class, the prof chose me to talk about (among other things) the reasons behind Indira Gandhi's assassination.

I didn't know too much about the topic, so I stuck to what I'd studied in Political Science in class 11 and 12. The book had stated that she was killed by her two Sikh bodyguards because of Operation Bluestar and the damage done to the Golden Temple, so that's what I said in class yesterday. When the prof asked me to elaborate on Operation Bluestar, I started talking about the separatist movement and amassing of weapons in the temple. But the prof interrupted me, saying "Yes, please do go on. Let's see how you're going to tell us about the torture and killing of the Sikhs. Let's see how you're going to put that".*

I didn't know what to say. I had no intention of trying to twist the facts to make them sound favourable to Indira Gandhi's actions. I didn't even know the facts well enough to even attempt to twist them, even if I had wanted to. My stammered explanation that I had no intention of trying to manipulate the issue in any direction was laughed away, and the prof moved on to talk about Rajiv Gandhi.

I was still lost. I didn't know much about Operation Bluestar or Indira Gandhi's assassination, but with two sentences, the professor had made me doubt my Political Science book. I don't think that this while incident was written in a blatantly pro-government, or pro-Indira Gandhi way in my textbook, but was it tilted towards supporting Indira Gandhi's Operation? Did my textbook gloss over the "torture and killings of the Sikhs"? Have I learned about the political history of my country from a very biased point of view?

I remember reading about how history is always written from the point of view of the victors once in an article somewhere. I've always been aware that the history of the same place, same incident, written by two different people or two different governments, will probably be very different. I've always known that the Pakistani textbooks talk about the Partition in a different way than the Indian textbooks. But this impersonal knowledge had never struck home. I'd never made the connection that the things I studied in school, what I was taught, might be biased and inaccurate. What in the history of my country has been deliberately left out of the school textbooks and what deliberately written wrong? How much of the true happenings do I really know?

*In that class, the prof also talked about Gandhiji. She talked about nonviolence and the freedome struggle, then mentioned his difficult relations with his family. She talked about Nehru and his years as Prime Minister, then mentioned his affair with Lord Mountbatten's daughter (wasn't it his wife, not his daughter, that Nehru was involved with?). Again, I was slightly surprised. We're all so used to hearing only about the good in Gandhiji and Nehru; when have we ever heard about the bad?

Baby Steps

Concerns and desires

Dreams and ideas

Frustration and anger

Demand a better world

Where conversations don’t stutter and halt

Where friends don’t need to think twice

Where loved ones don’t move away

Where relationships don’t fray due to pride


Where friends don't lose touch
Where out of sight doesn't mean out of mind
Where love doesn't wear thin
Where people don't get left behind

Where plane tickets don’t cost so much

Where just once in four months is not the way

Where seeing someone after a year

Is just the same as after a day

Where a woman can drive late at night

And not be questioned or threatened

Where her character isn’t judged so easily

Where expectations don’t suffocate dreams

Where fat is just a word

Where straight doesn’t win over curly

Where Pepé is the same as Calvin Klein

Where pink doesn’t mean girly


Where short dresses and formal shirts come in my size
Where three neat shots don't make me puke
Where cigarettes don't kill
Where parents don't disapprove

Where my mind is clear and sure

Not so jumbled and confused

Where clarity and confidence

Replace cruel doubt and insecurity

Where libraries are huge and near

Where bookshops serve free coffee

Where there’s always time for reading a book

Where writing well is easy

Where Patrick Dempsey lives across the street

Where Grey’s Anatomy just doesn’t end

Where laziness is not so tempting

Where chocolate isn’t unhealthy

Baby steps towards a better world

Change

A few days ago, I wrote about how I think I’m not changing in the ways that I should be. I’m not seeing or doing or reading new things, I’m not growing. But another thing that I’ve been thinking about is whether I’m changing in the wrong ways. I’m not the same person that I was a year ago, but am I becoming someone that I don’t want to be?

A few years ago, in the inevitable ‘what do you want in your future boyfriend/girlfriend’ discussions, I had categorically stated that even the tiniest bit of sexism, communalism, racism would turn me off. I said that I can’t be with someone who discriminates, or expects me to do something just because I’m a woman, or goes against everything that I believed in. And the same “rule” should apply to my friends too, not just a boyfriend.

But today, my two best friends are not who I would have “chosen” keeping that “condition” in mind. They often make fun of others’ fatness or less-than-perfect looks. They crack sexist jokes, say things like ‘he’s from the South, how cool can he be?’, disparage hair styles and laugh at people for what they choose to wear. V thinks that the strong south Indian accent that another friend has is hilarious, M refuses to eat at a Muslim restaurant because “they are unhygienic about their food”, and a few weeks ago, V told me that he’s extremely glad that I’ve learnt “how to dress” in the year that I’ve been here.

But I am extremely fond of both V and M. They are great in so many ways, brilliant fun to be with, always ready to help when I need it. They laugh at my funny behavior and bad jokes, and crack enough of their own, don’t make me uncomfortable to show the weird and often bitchy side of me. The three of us are very close, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. And I’m not questioning that friendship here: I’m just wondering whether that friendship is indicating something bigger about me.

Am I changing? Have I become more accepting of the fact that there are chauvinists and racists and communalists in the world, and that I just have to live with it? My friends say that their sexist/racist jokes are just that: jokes. And I know that. But jokes are also rooted in something deeper, right? I’m not calling my friends sexist or racist; they’re definitely not that bad. But they do have some... tendencies might be the right word.

More than the sexist/racist aspect, it’s all the talk about appearances that really bothers me. I’m not the girl who laughs at the fat guy; I’m fat myself and I don’t care. I’m not the girl who discusses the gross factor of stretch marks and dark underarms; I have them myself. I’m not the girl who makes fun of a dress that emphasises a big tummy, or a t-shirt that has too much “bling”. I’m not the girl who walks home talking about how shabby another guy looks, and how he really needs to change that. I’m not that girl, so why am I getting sucked into it? Because my worry is not just that my friends feel the need to laugh at an ugly dress, it’s also that sometimes, I laugh along.

Why am I suddenly trying to go to the gym regularly? It’s not the health factor, or the discipline, or the all the endorphins that actually make me feel good. It’s because my weight and jeans size is starting to bother me. Why am I saying things like “You made out with her? Really?” when I really have nothing against the girl in question. I can’t even justify it in my head when I think about it later. And if I am participating in a discussion about someone’s dressing style, there’s always that faintly uncomfortable and guilty feeling at the back of my head, and ignoring it bothers me.

I know that these jokes are mean and wrong. I know that it still doesn’t matter that someone is fat, or dark, or has a strong accent, or likes bright yellow band-aids, or that a guy has a fairness face-pack and fruity moisturizers in his toiletries basket. My beliefs (so far) are the same. But I’m starting to question them a little too. Are looks really of zero importance? Is it really wrong to laugh at fluorescent green shoes worn by a friend? Is it good that I can look past the fat-jokes and become friends with someone who might, on the surface, believe in everything that I don’t?

Of Butts and Long Legs

The numerous, often un-explainable glitches in the Indian fashion industry continue to baffle me. For one thing, I’ve never understood why when one style is “in fashion”, it’s impossible to find something of a different style. For the past few months, low-waist jeans have been “the fashion”. And for the last few months, I have been unable to find any jeans that are at my waist, not four inches below it. Today, I tried on nine pairs of jeans (I counted!) before I found one [hideously expensive] pair that I could wear. “Madam, aaj kal to yeh hi chal raha hai” (Madam, this is what is being worn these days) was what I was told every time I asked for jeans that were not low-waist.

Besides, I can’t even understand why low-waist jeans are so popular. Unless I’m wearing them the wrong way, low-waist jeans seem to be especially designed to display my underwear to the whole world. Of course, it is entirely possible (probably, in fact) that these jeans are designed for girls with butts significantly smaller than mine. On their small-sized butts, maybe the jeans look stylish, instead of bordering on inappropriate or obscene. And since I haven’t seen many girls showing off their Jockey or Enamour underwear, I guess those jeans really aren’t meant for me.*
Whatever the case, I refuse to believe that there are no girls who don’t want the entire world to know the colour of their underwear, or alternatively, girls with butts as big as (or bigger than) mine. Why oh why won’t Jealous 21 or Pepe Jeans realise this? How can they not see us and our [big] butts?

Another phenomenon that continues to mystify me is the utter non-existence of shorts for women in the market. I went to Globus, Lifestyle and Pantaloons today, looking for jeans and shorts. After spending half an hour in the trial room in Pantaloons (and severely testing the patience of the guy who was assisting me), I did manage to find a pair of jeans. But the only shorts for women that I found in any of these shops either reached three inches below my knee (too long) or three inches below my butt (too short). Where were all the knee-length-or-slightly-shorter shorts that so many girls need in the Delhi summer heat? I finally came home with three pairs of grey and black cotton shorts for men, found in Big Bazaar.

There is, of course, the chance that I am shopping in all the wrong places. I did try Sarojini Nagar for shorts, came home with shorts meant for men again. Delhi-dwellers, any ideas?


*Which brings me to a complaint I’ve always had: the problem of not finding clothes in my size. I’ve written about it here, though today, for a change, I actually found nine pairs of jeans in my size. And a dress.

The Dark Side of Grey's Anatomy

Before I reached my rebellious, I'll-do-what-I-want phase, I had to follow the rules that were implemented at home. There weren't too many of them.. just some general curfew rules, and some about studies. I didn't have a problem with most of the rules. But the one rule I remember that irked me was the 'No-TV-on-weekdays' rule.

My father was always the anti-TV person at home. He believed that TV was a waste of time, especially for kids. He wanted my sister and me to do something "constructive" with our free time. He always told us to get out of the house, play something, try something new, do anything other than spending an hour in front of the TV. (He still says that, actually). And that was the time when IIT had just gotten many new channels on cable... Cartoon Network and Disney Channel were the new "thing" amongst the kids. And so, that 'No-TV-on-weekdays' rule really irked.

Then, when I grew past the age of having to follow the rules, I entered an obsessive TV-watching phase. I discovered the wonderful, wonderful world of downloaded episodes, fell in love with Patrick Dempsey and spent most of my after-class-10th vacations making my father hover on the brink of shouting at me by obsessively downloading and watching the entire series of Grey's Anatomy, among other shows. College in Singapore put a halt to my excessive downloading, but then the online streaming of Will and Grace and Two and A Half Men started.

After years of all this, I have, of course, realised that the world of TV-watching isn't as harmless as I had claimed when I argued with my father about his rules. I don't know whether all the violence on TV influences teenagers or not, or whether the "Western beliefs" showed on TV are infiltrating and corrupting my "Indian culture". I do, however, know that these TV shows can be highly depressing.

I don't generally wish that I had a guy as perfect as Derek Shepherd from Grey's Anatomy in my life, or go "Awwww...." when Derek and Meredith's legendary love overcomes all obstacles (such as Derek being married) in the show. It's not the love stories that make me jealous or melancholy. It's all the drama in TV series that I find depressing. I find myself wishing that my life had some of the constant drama that exists in Tree Hill or Seattle Grace Hospital. I want my life to be more interesting. I want something, anything, to happen!

That's why I think watching so much TV is bad for me. Not because it wastes a lot of time that would be better spent doing the work I have piled up, or because it gets me very involved in the lives of people that don't exist, but because the hectic and dramatic lives of those non-existent people makes me feel bored and unsatisfied with my own normal life.

I'm Actually an Adult!

It's a little weird how living so far away from home is forcing me to do all sorts of things I never would have had to do if I was living at home. For example, I wouldn't have to pay (or bother) to do my own laundry, nor would I have to hunt for vegetarian-food-serving restaurants (or cook for myself). I wouldn't have to walk to college while it's raining bloody cats and dogs, and get completely soaked on the way, or pester my hostel-in-charge to come and fix the blocked sinks in my unit.

I also wouldn't be in a situation where I would find myself homeless in a month unless I arrange for some accommodation myself. I wouldn't have to call a dozen real estate agents, searching for a decent, affordable apartment that meets the varied specifications and expectations that my 4 flat-mates and I have. I wouldn't have to negotiate the rent down, pay commission to the agent, or sign leases.

But, after a couple of weeks and $60 worth of phone calls and messages, I finally have an apartment. And a really killer one at that. We sign something called the 'Letter of Intent' today, and the official lease/contract sometime next week. I have to say, I'm a little proud of myself for doing all this work. Even though I didn't actually manage to negotiate the rent of this place down by much, I did talk down the rent for two other apartments that we didn't end up taking, and I did it all almost by myself.

I don't know whether this experience and all the other experiences that I personally don't believe I'm old enough (or sensible enough) to be having right now are teaching me anything, or making me more mature and sensible. But I do hope they are. Starting April, I will be living completely unsupervised in an apartment with four other girls, and I really hope I'm ready for all the expected responsibilities (such as paying the bills and the rent on time) and the unexpected responsibilities that we will all have to bear. I'm actually an adult now; I'm growing up!


On a slightly related note: sometimes, the amount of independence I have here overwhelms me. It hits me at random moments: how I'm completely free to do almost anything I want. I have complete control over my expenditure. I can buy things that my parents certainly wouldn't let me buy if I was at home, I can go out and not have a curfew, I can skip a lecture and go shopping instead. I think this freedom actually teaches me more responsibility than I could ever have learned living at home. Maybe I actually can deal with having my own place better than I think I can.

So, What Do You Want To Be?

One of the first questions I remember being asked is what I want to do when I grow up. I was asked this when I was a little kid, and my answer was always different. I went through the author phase, the doctor phase, the social worker phase (interestingly, I don't ever remember saying I want to be a teacher or an engineer). I was asked the same question as I grew older, after class 10, in class 11 and 12.

But while I always had an answer when I was a kid, I don't have one now. When I graduated from school, the questions became more persistent and serious. People asked me what career I'm planning to pursue, and "I don't know" was never accepted as a real answer. "Kuch to idea hoga na, beta." You always have to have some idea. When I chose to come to Singapore and study Economics, I was told that it's a smart choice... "Economics mein to bahut potential hai".

I didn't really have a reason for choosing Economics. After class 10, one thing I knew was that I didn't want to continue Science. So I chose Humanities. After class 12, I chose Economics because the little that I had seen of it, I liked. But still, I have no "plans" for my future. I don't even know which courses I want to take next semester, which co-curricular activities I want to join. The rest of my life is too far away for me to plan. I don't know whether this is good or bad... all my friends here and in India seem to have answers to what they want to do when they grow up. Some want to be engineers, one wants to be a designer, some want to start their own businesses. I'm hoping that after four years here in Singapore, I'll have some answer for "what I want to be when I grow up".

This is Not A Good Week

It started with me crying my eyes out, and that too in front of a friend, which just makes me feel very stupid and pathetic. The crying led to me missing my two best friends, since they always let me be all pathetic around them and didn't judge me for it, and knew exactly what to say to make me feel better. And I don't know when (or if) I'll see one of them again.

Then there was a boring class followed by a very boring meeting. Then another very long, quite boring Statistics meeting, where again I felt stupid since I'm not any good at stats.

There is an important decision I have to make soon, and I'm sure I'll pick the wrong choice and everything will be screwed up. So now I have a this sinking feeling. A very bad feeling. This is definitely not a good week.

Open-mindedness

I want to be open minded. And I think I am. But I don't truly understand what being 'open-minded' or liberal means. I don't even know whether the two terms are the same. Yes, they will definitely mean different things to different people, but I don't know what they mean to me.

I am very open minded about sex and religion. I believe in freedom of speech. I accept the fact that people have different beliefs, but I do sometimes face difficulties in respecting beliefs which I think are so wrong. Does my not being able to accept the fact that a boy and a girl, if sitting together, are going to be shooed away from the Rose Garden make me less open minded than I think I am? Or my indignation show that I am open minded?

I just read a piece by Dilip D'Souza about being liberal in India, and very honestly, I didn't understand all of it. Yes, I agree that "one of the things about being liberal is that you live your life as you want and leave others to their lives." I'd like to believe I do that, and I think I actually do do that. I don't completely understand the distinctions he's made between conservatives and liberals, and I don't know which 'camp' I belong to.

And since I don't know what exactly open-mindedness or liberalism means to me, I don't know why I want to be part of that camp.