How do you know that you’re a good person? Do you even know if you want to be a good person? And what exactly is being good? Let’s take a few mundane examples. Speaking the truth, not hurting others, helping the poor, respecting elders, blah blah. Going by the well-established parameters set by our forefathers, these would be prime characteristics that make one a first-class model for a good person. But what lead to the origin of these characteristics? What lead to their determination? How can I say that telling lies is bad or whatever-it-is –that-you-and-I-think-so is nice and good?

1. Because these are our customs and traditions.

2. Because that’s what is written in our scriptures. [Here I not only speak of the Bhagwad Geeta or the Holy Quran; but the Bible, the Old Testament, Shri Guru Granth Sahib, the Zend Avesta, the teachings of the Bodhisattvas, the Tripitakas et al]

3. Because that is our way.

Lost in the muddle of figuring out who we are and what people would say or believe about us and vice-versa, we have overstepped the crucial line of control between ‘good in eyes of God and ‘good in the eyes of society’. I call it the line of control because it actually does control and restrict our desires and thus dictates our behaviour.  So, if I invite a guy over at my place, the thought of what if someone got the wrong impression would creep into my mind and as my mama said, “Beita, we know you are right but you’ve got to adjust with the society, no?” So, I should be a good girl and sit at home and sleep before 11pm and do whatever it is that my neighbours feel is the correct social behaviour.

Being different is being bad. There, I said it. Hindus are different from Muslims. Therefore, they are antagonistic to each other.  An outgoing woman is seen as a bad example for the other kudis of the mohulla. A book-lover is known as a geek in his college. Marrying outside one’s caste makes him an outcaste too.  Not keeping the Karvachauth means you ain’t a good wife and bahu. If you speak your mind, you’re a rebel. If you don’t, you’re secretive and weird. So amongst scores of criteria and countless philosophies, how do you figure out which path to follow? Which one would make you feel that you’re doing the right thing?

Here is what I think. Being good is not about observing the social norms at all. I think that let us not be God. Atleast not the ‘God’ part of Him. Because no matter what we do, we could never match up to His goodness, or shall I say – Divinity. So let us not follow his Divinity because we would never have the strength to make the sacrifices He did. Rather, let’s follow his Humanity. The times that Jesus spent on the Earth or when Guru Nanak Dev walked barefoot for 40 odd years from place to place propounding His teachings.  Let us inherit their kindness, their tolerance, their forgiving nature, their gentle disposition. What I mean can be well summarised by the final extract from the movie Chocolat :-

‘I think we can’t go around…

measuring our goodness by what we don’t do.

By what we deny ourselves…

what we resist and who we exclude.

I think we’ve got to measure goodness…

by what we embrace…

what we create…

and who we include.’

There is a lot to be said but I refrain. It is well understood by all. Lighten up your spirit. Free yourself from the old tranquility.

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He spends his day hunting wild animals for food and collecting dry wood for the hearth, not to forget collecting for the six months he and his fellow villagers spend huddled inside their huts during winters waiting for the warm rays of sun to pierce through the thick veil of ice and frost. He has just lost his daughter to Pneumonia, the most common child-killer here in the villages of North-Pakistan, settled in the lap of the World’s toughest mountain range – the Karakoram.

He does not have enough food, nothing grows here except for apples, apricots, wheat and if they’re lucky, potatoes. They plough the world’s smallest fields with their own hands and sometimes, goats. The rock-strewn peaks and sharp edged cliffs do not leave any scope for ground-water, much less any fertile land. The valleys are covered by apple orchards, pretty as they look. The village school is a flat ground the size of an ordinary kitchen-garden where children of all ages (mostly boys), line up each morning to sing the national anthem. Then, they sit on the ground in a circle and scratch at the ground with sticks, repeating the tables their teacher taught them last week. There is one teacher for three villages like this one. The school opens only during the summer months. It is impossible to sit on the cold earth and scratch at the two-foot thick hardened snow in the winters. Their pretty reddish-blond hair is actually caused by a disease called Kwashiorkar. Most of these children have loose teeth due to calcium deficiency.

The village is a group of mud-and-stone huts with a hearth in the centre where they light a fire by burning yak dung. The smoke burns the eyes and goes out through a small hole in the roof, cut out for that purpose. The village is connected to the world by a trolley. It is a vegetable crate which hangs over a rope and carries one person at a time, operated manually. You fold yourself into the crate, and then you pull the greasy cable with your hands, sliding the crate over a five-hundred metre deep gorge. If it broke, you’d fall. If you fell, you were dead.

There are no banks, no doctors, no lawyers, no government. But when you live here, first things first. Survival.

This is the current position of more than a hundred Pakistani villages, based in and around the Karakoram. There are a number of Indian villages that are based along the outskirts of Pakistan-occupied-Kashmir (POK) which share the same life as the village I described above. It makes me wonder. What about the government, Indian or Pakistani? What about education, independence, sovereignty? But why would they be concerned about these when they have so many other more important things occupying their minds. Food. Clothes. Fire. Warmth. Children. Death.

Humanity and Socialism seem so superficial when you see these Muslim men and women struggle everyday of their lives. What they need is, a bridge over the ravine that connects them to the World. Proper schools that give their children atleast a basic education so that they can step out into the World with their head held high; proper medical facilities so that they don’t get used to losing their sons and daughter who aren’t even born yet. Proper transport system, so that they don’t look stupid losing their lives crossing over a gorge, falling from a vegetable-crate.

Did you realise that this area is the most fought over piece of land in the history of mankind? Yet, it’s people are so neglected that it’s disgusting. What is more important- thousands of human lives, blood pumping through their veins, their eyes awaiting the fulfilment of promises made to them by the Sarkar, their hearts beating together defying the harsh altitude and forces of nature; or a few hundred kilometres of barren mountains? You decide.

If you want to know more, and if you care, please read “Three cups of Tea”, by Greg Mortenson and David Oliver Relin.

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It was then that I felt the pain. It was probably building up and was now pushing itself through my body. It had a free passage – there was no crowd to push aside and no athletic aunties dodging it. In an instant, it filled my entire body. I went limp and I crashed again to the ground. I bit my tongue in a bid to stop myself from screaming and steadied my frame against the road with my arms. I stood up and looked at myself for any visible injuries. I had torn my jeans right above my right knee and scratched my arms, but it was my swollen left ankle that almost made me collapse again. It was HUGE! It was as big as a tennis ball and I could actually see it bloat up. Ever boiled milk? You know how it rises in the pot and then just kind of erupts and overflows. That was precisely how my ankle looked.

I hurriedly walked a few steps, trying to get away from any eyes that were fixed onto me. I’d barely walked seven steps when another shot of pain went up from the ankle, tearing up everything inside and crashed up into my head. I felt dizzy and sick. The pain was so overpowering that I threw up. I could see that running away was not helping. I turned around and limped my way back to the side of the road. I dropped myself and sat on the road berm. The pain was intolerable. I couldn’t even breathe. I lowered my back and just lay there on the roadside, trying to calm myself. That felt so much better. I didn’t care about the world at that point; didn’t care what anyone might say. They’d think of me as a drunkard, with puke all over him, who had passed out.

In the middle of this thought, I heard someone call out my name. I ignored. I did not want to break this moment of relief. Then again, someone put their hand on my arm and called out. I forced open my eyes. I saw a hazy picture of a face and the receptors in my brain told me that it was ‘Her’. HER?! Instantly, I pulled myself up. Sure enough, it was Priyanka. My heart skipped a million beats as I looked at her, lost in my own thoughts. There she was, right in front of me, her big brown eyes, still shining and staring right back at mine…
“Rahul… Rahul… RAHUL!!!”, she said as she shook my arm.
“Hmmm…?”, was all I could manage. I still couldn’t believe I was looking at Priyanka. I still couldn’t believe her tiny, feminine hands, with perfect little fingers having no nail-paint, held onto my arm. I kept blinking my eyes in disbelief uttering nothing from my mouth. It was then that she put her arm around me and tried picking me up. Her movement broke my trance and I was finally able to speak.

“Priyanka?! You? How come… I mean what are you doing here?”.
“What happened, Rahul?”, she asked while ignoring my query.
“I was getting down from the bus and my foot just…”.
Priyanka cut me short with a loud “HOLY SHIT!” as she glanced at my ankle. I really hoped she had not because as soon as I looked at my over-sized foot, the pain came right back. I let out a cry. Suddenly, I felt comfortable with expressing myself.
“Relax Rahul, just relax. I’ll just call for a cab and we’ll go see a doctor.”
“No… I think I first need to compose myself. I won’t be able to rush myself right now.”
She leaned forward for a better look at my foot. My toe nail had broken and was bleeding. She opened up her handbag, took out a tissue and proceeded to wipe the blood and dust off my foot. Priyanka gently lifted my leg and put her handbag underneath my foot. All this while, I just stared at her. It had been 13 months since we parted ways. Yet, when I saw her that morning, everything just came flooding back. She was still the same; hadn’t changed one bit. Her short hair, her shiny skin, her tiny ears… She got up and walked across the road towards the temple. Her walk… the way her body sashayed, left and right. I could spend my entire life watching her.
She went inside the temple and came back running a few minutes later with a bottle of cold water. Bending down in front of me, she removed the slipper from my foot and poured the water from the bottle. When she was done cleaning up, she again put the foot back on the handbag, in an effort to raise it so as to reduce the swelling. Handing me the bottle, she sat next to me. I took a few sips from the bottle while still looking at her in shock. She gave me smile, dragging me back further into the past.

“I see you’re not doing too well without me!!”, she said and burst out laughing. I could sense that she was probably trying to change the mood and distract me. I gave her a shy smile myself. I did not know what to say. After the break-up, it took me a good four months to get my life back on track; four months to forget her; yet I would still think about the time we’d spent together. I guess I was lonely. After the split, she decided to move on and dated her roommate. She was my first girlfriend and I was 20 when I started dating her. Maybe because I’d waited for so many years before actually going out with a girl, that when I dated Priyanka, I put my heart and soul into the relationship. Then, when it did not work out, I could never really get over her.

“Helloooo?! Are you there?”, Priyanka asked suddenly.
“Oh yes. I’m so sorry. I mean, it’s 10 in the morning and you must be on your way to work and here you are nursing me while I’m lost in my own thoughts. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s alright, Rahul. Come on now, don’t be so formal!”. I’d known her since I was 15 and we dated for 2 years. 7 years of friendship. We parted ways amicably when I was 22. After that, I never really saw her… till today.
“No Priyanka. I’m fine. Really. Thank you so much for the help.”. I started to get up when she just held my hand, signaling me to sit back. Like a little kid, I did not contest and obeyed. “Don’t act like a fool and sit down Rahul. In a moment, I’ll take you to a doctor. For now, can we not just sit and catch up?”
I could not hold back my smile. It felt just like the old times. It felt like I hadn’t missed any moment of her life at all! She smiled back and asked, “What are you doing here, exactly? Some drunken rendezvous?”, pointing at the puke on my shirt. “Hell no! You know I don’t drink Priyanka!”, I defended myself.
“You never know! It has been quite a while”. I could see that mischievous twinkle in her eye. “For you information, Madam, I work here at The Richmond Gardens”, I spoke feeling a lot more comfortable in her company now. “Well, I never knew they hired drunkards!”. We both burst out laughing.

Thirty minutes passed as we sat there talking to each other like two gossiping teenage girls. I’d not felt this happy in the recent past and I really didn’t care about my current state. All I knew was that Priyanka was sitting there right next to me. Her hair bounced as she animatedly narrated her tales and every time she waved her hands, the air carried the fragrance of her wonderful perfume to my nose. Just then, her phone rang.

“Incoming… ROHAN”.
Rohan – her roommate. The very same roommate she went out with after we broke up. I didn’t know if she was still out with him.

“Hey baby! Good morning!!”. Well, now I knew. I didn’t even bother listening to the rest of the conversation. The pain in my ankle had suddenly risen a few notches and the sun was beating down on me. I leaned forward and tried to feel my humongous ankle. It was numb. I couldn’t even move it.
“Rohan, darling… can I call you back in a while? I think I’ll tend to Rahul. Alright? OK, buhbye.”
Cool. She told her guy that she was with her ex. The relationship seemed solid and stable.
“So how are things going with Rohan, Priyanka?”, I enquired, trying to sound as normal as possible. “Great, actually!! We’re getting married in 3 months!”, her face beaming a big smile.

“Congratulations Priyanka!! I’m so happy for you”. I was. I was actually happy for her. I was really not even jealous of the fact that she was going out with Rohan. But the moment she told me that she was engaged to be married, I knew I’d lost her forever. She was my first, everything. She was someone I’d dreamt of growing old with; someone I’d shared special moments with; someone who understood me inside out. It broke my heart when we went our separate ways. But somehow, I had reconciled with the fact that we could not be together. But now, when she told me she was getting married, it abruptly put an end to that dream – the dream of living my life with her. Even though we hadn’t met in months, the dream lived on. It was shattered now.

“Thanks Rahul! I knew you’d be happy. We were best of friends. Somehow we lost track of each other in between. But I know that if there is someone in this world who genuinely cares for me and will be happy for me, it’s you.”
“That is very sweet of you, Priyanka.”
She smiled at me. I wanted to cry.

“I’ll just rush back to the temple and return this bottle, alright. Stay right here. I asked Rohan to send a cab here. It’ll be here any second.”. With that, she crossed over to the other side. I looked at the spot where she was sitting. Her scent still lingered there. Suddenly, another shot of pain ripped across my body. This time, I bit my tongue again, not wanting to let out a scream. Suddenly, I felt uneasy, as if a thousand eyes were watching me. I knew I could not stay there any longer. I pushed myself up. Just then, the cab arrived. I opened the door put her handbag inside.
With my slipper in my hand, I bent down and picked up the tissue she had used to clean my foot. I couldn’t leave it lying on the road there. It was too precious. I asked the driver for a pen and wrote on the tissue.

“Priyanka,
I’m sorry that I’m leaving today. I’m sorry that I left you before. But we will meet again. All the best.
Your best friend.”

I told the driver to wait for her. It was the first time in many months that I’d felt so happy and then had reality hit me in the face so hard. I turned around and started limping away from that place; not to my office, not to some doctor… just away. I guess, it was finally time to move on.

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It sounded so very familiar. I’d seen this in the movies, heard similar tales from many friends and had even been consulted a number of times. My brother likes a female friend and his male friend stabbed him in the back and went off with the chick. I spent the first thirty minutes trying to calm him down and motivated him to get over the girl. I told him that it’s alright to feel dejected but if he’s patient enough he’ll find a smart, sensible companion. The reply I got was something that got me thinking. He told me that everyone keeps telling him that he MUST get into a relationship and that since every Tom, Dick and Harry has a girlfriend, he must too.

This is not something that I’ve heard for the first time. Countless guys and girls around me compare themselves with others who they feel are inferior to them (in any way) but are in relationships. Your social status becomes tenfold if people around you know that you are dating someone. Curiosity about the opposite sex is fine but this is sheer desperation! People are willing to go out with just about anyone who is ready to accept their advances.

A number of people are of the opinion that experimenting and taking chances with anyone provides one with valuable experience and insight into the workings of relationships. I totally disagree with this thought. How can relationships born out of desperation possibly lead to anything fruitful? These ‘just-for-the-heck-of-it’ relationships can easily be compared with Farmville (Yes. I’m talking about that godforsaken game on Facebook). Just like Farmville, these relationships seem fun, entertaining and everybody seems to have one (farm/girlfriend/boyfriend). But they also share another attribute with Farmville – they are a waste of time, energy and brain. They have no real value and since they stand on frivolous grounds, they teach you nothing. You never realise the worth of the person because you’re busy impressing your peers and end up playing with your own feelings and emotions as well as your partner’s.

I’m probably young and naïve myself but from what I’ve seen and experienced is that you can only find that special someone if you don’t look around too hard. This does not mean that you go hide in the basement! Go out, socialize, make friends but not with the intention of hooking up with every second woman/man you lay your eyes on. Have confidence in yourself and steer clear of the pressure that your friends may exert on you. It’s better to be single and safe rather than get into a messy relationship and then regret it.

The excitement you feel when you actually find somebody who is riding the same wave as you are is something I can’t describe in words. Patience is the key. If you succumb to the pressure, you will end up in a relationship which might not be fulfilling and extremely demanding. On the contrary, if you tame your desperation and stop searching but still keep your eyes wide open, you’ll find someone you can be yourself with. Someone who not only excites every single nerve in your body but whose embrace makes even the most severe pain vanish as well.

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B – Bollywood.It is the national obsession .Nothing binds us better.

C – Cricket.When we are not watching movies,we are cricket-ing.

D – Dogs . Weve all been chased by one once in our life.Also the first abuse.

E – Eunuchs.The hijras are a peculiar phenomenon of the subcontinent.

F – Festivals.There are more festivals in a year than there are days.

G – Garibi.From beggars to slums.We now have slum tourism.

H – Hanuman.The monkey god.The original superhero.

I – India.We love our country,in a strange way.

J – Jugaad.One solution for all problems whether it is a car or career.

K – Khichdi.A popular Indian dish and occasionally concoction of everything.

L – Laddoo. The favorite sweet.

M – Marriage.Big Big deal in India.

N – News.From neighborhood gossip to newspapers and news channels.

O – Offices with tea sipping,lazy,arrogant babus.

P – Pakistan,the enemy for all seasons and few reasons.

Q – Queues.They are everywhere from temples to banks .

R – Rickshaws.They tread where nothing else dares.

S – Samosas.Some say it is a Persian delicacy,but we have made it our own.

T – Tea.Chai is India’s favorite beverage.

U – UP.Uttar Pradesh fascinates us like nothing else,bhaiya.

V – Village.We love our pinds and gaons.This is real India.

W – Why,When,Who,What ? The gossiping and inquisitive Indians.

X – Add XX and you have a taboo.Prefix SE and you have crossed the line.

Y – Yoga.

Z – Zero.We invented it.

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Although the managing committee has now been suspended but that doesn’t serve the greater purpose. Next year, we are going to host commonwealth games and over 71 nations will be participating. Doesn’t the recent incident sound ominous?

Yesterday’s story has cited some real doubts on nation’s prestige. More importantly it’s the same venue: DELHI. If they can’t hold Cricket (which is no less than our national sport), then I am seriously dubious about the kind of governance, we would be showing after 10 months. Anyways, I might sound pessimistic if I keep on writing on the subject-matter. It’s just a matter of few months time and everything will come into picture.

Here’s a brief video of what had happened yesterday

watch?v=JebGeUslc7k

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“We have been brought up the way our Parents and Teachers wanted to bring us up. if the priority in Youngster`s lives today is Luxury, and indifference towards others, it is because their parents care for none and wish to live in luxury. if students today are languishing in coaching classes slogging away for marks, it is because their parents and teachers want them to become scoring machine.
if every student you meet believes that he should be a Doctor or an Engineer and earn lots of Money, it is because his Parents Teachers and Relatives have conditioned him to think like that.

They just end up doing what their parents want ,with out giving enough time to bring out their talents which they find hidden inside. before they could say , some thing about their dreams , they are asked to do this/that. after passing out from the college, they realize what they have done to their God gifted Talents (extra activities including ,writing,sports). Parents need to give their Children enough space and Hinder, so that he/she could think of her own and achieve those Dreams which we often look back after moving the stage, ones we wanted to be. your sons and daughters are going to make it big one day. once they go that stage, they will not come back to the age of a child.so let them enjoy for being what they are……. (From the archives dated May 2006}.

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I want to hate the English
{They ruled us for the two centuries}
But Shakesphere sidles up
To whom i owe so much

I want to hate the Muslims
But ghalib stands before me
Tell me,is it possible to stand up
To him?
I want to hate the Sikhs
And Guru Nanak fills my vision
And my head is bowed

And this Kamban,this Thiagaraja,this
Muthuswamy…
A hundred thousand times I tell myself
They are not mine
They`re from the place far South
But the heart does not rest
Till they are made mine

And that lover
Who Betrayed me the first time
I`d as soon kill her as look at her!
I do see her,but

Sometimes she is a friend
Sometimes a mother
Often like a sister

And i drink from the cup of love,and still
All my days
I wander like a madman
In search of someone I can
Hate with all my heart
and ease it for a while
But precisely the opposite happens
Somewhere,sometime
I find someone
I cannot help but love

Day by day,this disease of love is growing
Rooted firmly in the fantasy
That one day my love
will show me paradise

– Kanwar Narain
{translated from the hindi by pratik kanjilal}

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This is arguably the most crucial moment in the history of Pakistan . It is fighting for its soul and identity . It is at war with itself . The old timers in South Block are concerned with the consequences of having an extremist Pakistan as neighbor .  There concerns are well justified but there’s more at stake than just having a trigger happy nuclear armed state as your neighbor . So , I find myself cheering on the Pakistan Army in  it’s offensive in Waziristan . We have more to lose if  Pakistan is to go the Iran way or worse gets dismembered -

1. Wagah Border Ceremony – The elaborate retreat ceremony played out every evening at Amritsar is quite a spectacle . It attracts foreigners and locals al;ike who swarm in great numbers to the attari border to catch the shenanigans of the Pakistani Rangers and the BSF jawans . Patriotism is at peak value as the gigantic men strut about with their Kalashnikovs and stomping their way through the evening . It is a colourful ceremony that takes the attendants from their vicious patriotic fervor to share bonhomie with their brothers across the border in a matter of just over an hour .

2 . Sports – The India-Pakistan match is truly a war on the field . With both countries regularly at loggerheads over one issue or the other , the hostility trickles down on to the field and makes for a spectacle . The joy that engulfs the nations whenever their team triumphs over the other is unparalleled anywhere else . In friendlier times , one can find supporters for the other team on the other side of the border . One can find Indians supporting Pakistan against Australia or the other way around . This is something that is peculiar to the subcontinent .

3. Bollywood – Indian films are officially banned in Pakistan but unofficially the country is gripped by Bollywood fever . The Khan trio enjoys as much fame on the other side of the border . Piracy is a huge business in Pakistan and apart from economic consequences for the pirates , Bollywood too will suffer . How will Sunny Deol and Co make films without their enemy for all seasons – Pakistan ?

4. The Arts – Like it or not , India and Pakistan share a common cultural heritage . No matter how much the Islamists and the Saffronists try to disconnect Pakistan and India , the truth is that both are intertwined . Both sides are enchanted with music and poetry . Literature dealing with the Partition and the relationship between the two people is a genre in itself .

5.  Fixation – Both countries are obsessed with one another . Both compete with each other over every insult and compliment . The most important thing for both nations isn’t if they fare poorly but to ensure that they aren’t below par than their neighbor whether it be poverty , illiteracy , corruption . We’ve so gotten used to this fixation that we’ve nearly turned a blind eye to more pressing concerns . The other keeps us sheltered in a cocoon of our own making . And we’ll always have a ready made ‘interference’ and ‘foreign hand’ story for all our failures .

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