It had nearly been a week after they had married with the exchange of the traditional nuptial vows. She was as tired and pale as she had been on the first day they spent together as husband and wife. He thought the lengthy marriage processions and rituals had taken their toll on her. For a minute he even wondered if he had done something atypical to her. But it was something else which was going on in Naya’s mind.

The newly married bride was still thinking of Ayan, with whom she had broken up after 15 months of relationship, or 15 months and 8 days to precise, the only guy who had touched her heart in a special way. They had worked in the same office, though different departments and different floors, but the same batch. He had pursued her relentlessly and after a mere month, she had accepted him for good. They had the best of times together. He used to write poems for her, indulged her every wish, and gave her what she valued most-trust. She on her part loved unconditionally accepting all his iniquities and dreamt of a future together. They were the most compatible couple just like their names. But as others, their relation wasn’t a platonic one. Though there were the best ups each one of them had ever experienced, it wasn’t without the horrible downs. The downs had featured erratically in the first six months after the initial highs partially due to some broken promises and others due to expectations. Still their love had conquered all, or they had chosen to ignore such differences to be together forever.

But one day after almost a year and a quarter, Naya had started feeling that Ayan had changed. He didn’t give her the time and attention that she craved. On his part he thought she was expecting much. These led to a verbal fight with all kinds of swearing and cuss words flying around, and they decided to part. She had never thought that her expectations would trade for a split between them. Her cell phone screen blinked innocuously, unaffected by the gravity of the message. He had messaged that it was over forever. She even called him back to be rebuked again by his hurtful words. But in all of these, she still loved him. Months passed and she started realizing that he had forgotten her and they could never be together again. She had tried to get him out of her mind, her soul. She had cried, puked, trying everything to remove him from her conscience. After two years, her parents had asked for the last time, still expecting the same answer, but she had told them that she was ready to tie the knot, her only resort to throw him out of her system.

She was called out by her husband Rishi at this point. The milk had boiled and was just on the brink of spilling over. She quickly drifted back to the present turning the gas nozzle off. She had sworn to herself she would never think of Ayan again, though this was just a marriage of convenience. But in the following month, she could not help but compare her husband to Ayan, always thinking of how Ayan would have acted better in a situation, or how Rishi was a misfit in her life. In all the chaos of everyday life, as she hurtled from morn to eve, from the moment she jack-knifed from bed to the time she hit the pillow already half-asleep, all she could think of was Ayan.

It was an early summer morning; Naya packed her bag uninterestedly as Rishi had told her that he would be taking her to Shimla for a vacation. They landed in Shimla by night and took a suite in a hotel overlooking the best greenery and landscape. In the morning, Rishi went to arrange for a car, and Naya found herself at the resort side having breakfast. She hated the cold and stale bread as much as the vacation, or to her life with Rishi.

The resort was not half as beautiful as packaged on the catalogue. She pondered over the locals and the excited tourists till something caught her attention. On the other side of the doorway she saw a couple entering and it took her a minute to realise it was her Ayan. She was shaken and nervous. She couldn’t help but notice how happy they were. He seemed to indulge the girl’s wishes just like he had once indulged hers. Their happiness was almost over the top, spreading cheers to the others. She was almost stunned to know that he was truly happy in his married life, enjoying every bit of it. She had always hoped in her heart that he would come back one day and tell her how much he loved and missed her. The uncomfortable truth which she was witnessing was something completely opposite to her stale life. She realized that Ayan had moved on and it was she who had wasted her life, and Rishi’s too. She instantly felt bad for Rishi for having withheld his right to lead a blissful life.

The day after this incident was like a new Naya for Rishi. Hours of introspection on the sitting-room couch unveiled the only solution to her endless agony. She started loving him and showered all the care and affection he had been devoid of all these days. Their stay in Shimla seemed like a blessing in disguise for the couple. A glowing miniature of a tiny family making the voyage between two distinct worlds. Now she responded admirably to Rishi, without a hint of ostentation.

Just across their room Ayan woke up to see his wife sleeping. He went to the balcony for a puff when a silent tear fell across his cheeks. The images of a shaken and nervous Naya wouldn’t leave him. He felt strange. He was apparently fulfilled, yet empty. Tears rolled down his face and converged into rain drops. He cried. He had noticed the calm pellucid grace of her pose before she could see him. Only he knew that contrary to what he portrayed to others, he could never grow out of Naya.

(Image courtesy: zmash1 from sxc.hu)

Morning walks are good for your health, or so they say. But, trust me when I say this, because I speak from experience – no morning walk can replace the pleasure and the joy you experience when you go right back to sleep after hitting the stop button on the alarm clock.

I see a lot of heads are nodding in agreement already.

But, it is unfortunate that we are surrounded by people who go on and on about why one should go on a morning walk, every day. What is even more unfortunate is that we find ourselves at a loss of words to counter the arguments of these proponents of morning walks.

That, however, is going to change after you have read this article, because I am going to arm you with seven bullet proof excuses that you can use against anyone who wants you to go on a morning walk.

1. I am too busy. This is the one where you can agree with whatever your morning walker friend is saying, but in the end you just heave a deep sigh, take a deep breath, and tell him how much you wish you had the time for a morning walk. You then proceed to give him a detailed description (a little un-truth here would not hurt anyone) of the things you do on any given day. Try to ensure that most of the activities you list are healthy and seemingly productive.

This will not only silence your friend, but will also leave him feeling a little depressed because he will feel that he is not using his time optimally. Your job is done.

2. The pet-walkers, and the stray animals. If you live in an area that is even remotely similar to the area I live in, you can use the pet walkers and the stray dogs as an excuse to avoid the morning walk. Your argument will become even more forceful if you can describe (in detail, and, once again, make up the facts if you have to) a few incidents of morning walkers being mauled by pets, stray dogs, and monkeys.

If you have any scars on your body, you can use them as live examples of how morning walks can be detrimental to one’s health.

3. The virtues of sleep. This one will require a bit of home work on your part. Read some books, or articles, about the benefits and the science of sleep;  memorise some big words and as soon as someone starts to talk about the benefits of the morning walk, you nip the evil in the bed by giving an equally detailed and informative lecture on the benefits of sleep, especially early morning sleep.

This will make everyone feel that your decision to skip the morning walk is a result of an in-depth cost-benefit analysis.

4. Walking is for the old, I work out. You can get away with this one if you have a fairly decent body shape. You can simply laugh in derision at anyone who starts talking about the morning walk. You can then go on to say that morning walks are for the week, the old, or the sick.

You work out, and you don’t need to walk. Argument won.

5. I play sports. This excuse is similar in nature to the one about working out, but here you are using sports as an excuse to avoid morning walks, instead of working out.

Of course, this excuse, like the earlier one, would sound credible only if  you have decent enough body shape.

6. Wild animals in the area. Be it Mumbai, or Shimla, there have been incidents of stray leopards venturing into civilized areas everywhere. Unless you are unfortunate enough to live in an area where such a theory would sound utterly unconvincing, you can use this as an excuse for not going on a morning walk.

Not only will you win the argument on the benefits of morning walk, you will also get an opportunity to turn the conversation towards more interesting things. After all, who does not like a good leopard story.

7. Unsafe neighbourhood. Everyone I know loves to talk about how the world is going to the dogs. You can take advantage of this fact. As soon as someone starts to talk about the benefits of a morning walk, you simply shake your head, and utter sounds that make the speaker stop in his tracks. Now, when you have everyone’s attention, narrate an incident (once again, make up the facts, if you have to) where a morning walker in your neighbourhood was beaten up and mugged by some anti-social elements, who managed to get away with it too.

I don’t think anyone will ask you to go an a walk after hearing your sordid tale.

My dear friends, I hope after reading this piece, you will be able to ward off any attempts made by people trying to force you to go for a morning walk. But, if you feel that you should go on one, I would recommend that you follow your heart, because, all said and done, morning walks are actually good for your health.

(Image courtesy: mihow from sxc.hu)

Warning- Contains spoilers, and recommended for those who have seen the film (at least once).

The intellectual is always showing off,
the lover is always getting lost.
The intellectual runs away.
afraid of drowning;
the whole business of love
is to drown in the sea.
Intellectuals plan their repose;
lovers are ashamed to rest.
The lover is always alone.
even surrounded by people;
like water and oil, he remains apart.
The man who goes to the trouble
of giving advice to a lover
get nothing. He’s mocked by passion.
Love is like musk. It attracts attention.
Love is a tree, and the lovers are its shade.

–RUMI

‘ Khatara bhai, mujhe ye sab kuch nahin chahiye..mujhe nahin banna hai bada..mere paas kuch nahin hai iske ilava..mera dil nahin tutna chahiye..’

–Jordan

After weeks and weeks of postponing, controlling, and denying, finally, I write on “Rockstar”, my favorite film of the year 2011. I do it with a simple hope, that maybe, hopefully, with this little, pointless, insignificant post, the movie will leave me, and somehow, settle, somewhere deep, very deep, inside me, as a part of me, for a long, long time to come. I was afraid that somehow my words will in some strange way, put a measurable emotion or an expressible meaning to what I feel and want to say about Rockstar, which is exactly opposite to what the film succeeded in doing with me.

In a scene in the end credits of the film, after the credits are almost over, the poem of Rumi which was narrated in the beginning of the film is repeated again-

‘ Yahaan se bohot dur, galat aur sahi ke paar, ek maidaan hai, main wahaan milunga tujhe.’

While the poem is repeated, a shot from the scene right before the interval is repeated, of Jordan and Heer in an open field holding hands, just before they kiss. This kiss, the moment of intimacy, of a silent never ending infinitium, which drew the lines of right and wrong based on not what they were or wanted, but what those things rigidly are meant to be, in the man-made society we live in, that neither they, nor their world, nor their past neither their future, would ever remain the same. It’s not hard to figure out the parallel, which consciously or subconsciously comes out from the poem and the scene and what is ultimately the soul of the film. After that moment they shared, they were never meant to be together, what they had was too powerful to break, but too divine to last. What remained at the end was the open field, and the memory of that moment, when there was no right and wrong, only Heer and Jordan. From there on, it was always too late, as Jordan says.

For me, it’s interesting, I have written more drafts of this post, then I did of my last short film. That is till I realized, that a film like this, does not deserve a post, like any other, which is an impersonal spoon feeding talking majorly about the story from a distance. So I decided not to do that, I just will scream what I felt, and continue to feel, hoping that whoever reads this, would have seen the movie atleast once, and if not, will in the most minutest way, just feel my love for the film, if nothing else.

The film is about Jordan, and his life journey, but after watching the film half a dozen times, I ask myself, who is Jordan? Maybe he is someone who right from his friends in college, to his family, to his agent, to the music company head, was very often a spectator to these people using him, telling him what to do, making a scapegoat of him, when all he knew was that he loved music and wanted to be a ‘Shhtar’. What he did not know is that this love, along with the love for Heer will ignite a passion in him which will consume him up and chew him out. Ironically, in a film so musical, there is almost no music in the beginning of the film. As Jordan mumbles and fumbles in college competitions and faces rejections, there is silence. That’s maybe because then the guitar was only part of his body, not his soul. That he may have words but did not understand their meaning. Maybe a kid, who just wants to go home, a home that does not exist anymore.

As he meets Heer, he begins to discovers himself and life. They have this inexplicable connection with almost nothing in common except a zest for living, and ‘living’ through Heer, music starts taking over his emotions and feelings. Whether its drinking ‘desi daru’ and getting drunk, or passing the snow clad mountains on that bike just before Heer gets married, they share something which is not talked about, cannot be talked about, because even after she is married, no matter where they are and what happens to them, the warmth they shared in the coldness of those mountains always remains their own, something nobody can take away from them. Just before she gets married there is a scene where nothing is said, but everything is felt. When Heer, dressed as a bride, about to marry someone else, looks in his eyes, but says nothing  - the mysteries of life are not that are spoken, but those that are felt.

After she is married and gone, his life goes on, but a vacuum always remains. He is banished by the family which was bound to happen as he was always a ‘misfit’, and as he lives in a durgah for months he discovers music in his veins. Heer is somewhere in those veins too, and this is seen in the sparkle in his eyes when he gets a chance to go to Prague where she is. By now, they have lived life a bit more, grown up a bit, but also realized that what they had felt in those mountains has only got stronger, and it’s too special to let go, but there is a difference between realizing and accepting.

When they meet in prague, they pick up from where they had left, and find that what they have is ‘something else’. But no matter what they feel, they are what they are, and he can never express what he wants. She is bound in a soulless marriage, and they part ways again, only to meet years later to never part again. Their confusion and conflicts, which are never really thrown in the face or spoken of, are just referred to subtly under that white sheet, which is and always will be their world. A world where the lines of realizing and accepting merge, and they can be one.

Why, in that beautiful scene in prague, when Jordan and heer suddenly wake up early morning, in the song “AUR HO”, and start running towards her home as she is late, when she stops, midway suddenly, and turns to look back at him, and he runs towards her, in that beautiful long shot, does Imtiaz ali, cut it before they hug, and instead just shows him running towards her? Why do they never propose each other, which is common in most of his film characters? What does she mean, when she says ‘HAAN’, in that bridal dress, just before she is about to get married, looking straight into Jordan’s eyes? Why does he go to Kashmir, when they don’t even know what they have? Who are those ‘PARINDEY’, which Jordan talks about on stage? Why, when he has everything he ever wanted, does he stand on stage, and blankly remembers the time when he was nothing and was sitting outside a temple? Why when he meets her after 2 years, in as she lies half dead and slowly opens her eyes, does Imtiaz choose to show the light and breeze coming from the window, through her? It’s these choices, which Imtiaz ali, and his characters make, these confusions, these flaws, which are more real to life, then any amount of logic and clarity.

Yes, Ranbir has great screen presence and more so, seems to have great trust in his director and has an understanding of cinema, which gives him the confidence to have a blank face in so many scenes (for example, with his college friends in the start, where he is often just a viewer, or at the end in the climax bed scene, where he trusts that he does not need to do anything more then be in the moment, silently, just feel, and the movie will do the rest). Yes, also AR Rehman is brilliant and no words will come close to unearthing his brilliance. Nargis did grow on me over repeated screenings of the film and has a vulnerability and honesty which shines. Special mention for lyrics by Irshad Kamil, who turns up with his best work yet quite easily.

But there is only 1 rockstar, in the film, and maybe in the film industry today, which is obviously Mr. Imtiaz ali. Music from a musician may not come out of how he may have lived his life, but maybe how he perceives it, how he remembers it. The non linear structure besides keeping up the mystery element, in subtle ways highlights how his music was in that sense structured. And that is what he does so brilliantly.

If someday, I get to meet Imtiaz, I would like to ask him, ‘Why after establishing the fact that we are looking at her death from his point of view and feeling his pain in the last stage show, when she comes on stage did he use a woman’s voice, and in a way, her view with the line ‘Tum ko paa hi liya’?

There are many questions like these, and everyone whom I ask this question , including me, has a take on it, and I would like to thank you sir, if you ever read this, to give us a chance to use our heart and minds for a Hindi film after long.

For years and years, in a conventional hindi film, when a couple break off, the characters go right in the dump, and it comes out as lamely as it sounds. Where Imtiaz defies convention, like in Jab we met when Geet goes off to Anshuman at the end of first half, and Aditya comes back to Mumbai, inspite of knowing that the love of his life is with someone else, Aditya uses the memories of her, to inspire himself, and uses it positively.

Memories seem to be a common factor in almost all of Imtiaz Ali’s films. Memory of those few moments, spent by characters, which stays deep inside them, and becomes a part of them forever. It’s these moments and what he brings out through them, which bring out the beauty in his films, whether its Manali (JWM), or Delhi, London(LAK), or Kashmir(Rockstar). Thank you Mr Ali, for bringing love back to Indian screens again, bringing beauty again, and through Rockstar, passion again(the scene when he goes to kiss her from the stage, has to be the most passionate moment on Indian screens in the longest time).

For me, the soul of the movie is the song ‘Jo bhi main kehna chahun, barbaad kare, alfaaz mere’ which highlights so many of Jordan’s life situations, arising out of choice or otherwise. And that is what Ali does so magnificently to tell the story. For him songs are a means of expressing, not relieving. He has always done that.

In a scene, when Heer goes into coma, and he comes out of the hospital, and the whole crowd/media are standing and pounce on him, there is a shot when a police guy slaps Jordan, and he attacks him back, the people surrounding them, the viewers, the media, are all getting entertained, either laughing or staring, as this one man dares to feel, to express -that one shot tells more then entire films in India manage to do. Jordan always wanted to be a ROCKSTAR, and he does get everything what he wanted, but loses everything else. Maybe Jordan will go on living, will keep on breathing, his life will go on, what will remain is that void, that guilt, forever, and after.

Today, after many days of controlling, I will go and watch ROCKSTAR again, for the 7th time, and probably the last time on the big screen, in the final remaining show on the city. One of the things I had heard, when I left my job, and jumped to filmmaking was that one of the reasons a movie can score over other ‘Art’ forms is because it may affect your senses with the greatest impact. I very rarely felt that. Very few movies succeed in touching you. Rockstar did not touch me. It put a hand inside me, grabbed my inside, ripped me apart and splashed it on my face. The interesting thing is, I found beauty in that pain. How many movies can claim to do that? And so, I go to ‘FEEL’, again, and watch ROCKSTAR again.

“It’s hot outside,” he entered in his diary, “I hate when it’s f***ing hot!”

Sean sat at the desk beside a large window in the central room of the house. The landscape had long shed its green coat and now, dressed in gray and brown, stood wilting against a hard sun. In a sparsely populated town such as this, one could gaze at the simmering horizon far ahead through their windows. But it was no business of Sean as to what went outside. Lately, he kept himself to his diary.

“It’s so strange to start today’s entry this way. You always know how it’s going to begin and never how it’s going to end… except today.”

“Atlanta Acers won the championshi…” A sudden outburst snatched his gaze away from the diary. “Kelly Johnson’s stunning gown…, L-o-o-o-o-o-ving f-e-e-e-ling in my h-a-a-a-a-rt…, For all your home repair needs, these new sets of household tools work wonders!…”

His pair of black eyes met the flickering images on the television screen. “As if the constant chattering in my head isn’t bad enough,” he thought.

Sean turned to the man sitting close to the far right wall of the central room. With his legs raised up and resting on the television table top, his father continued to tap the television remote buttons incessantly.

“They turn out s**t and p**s, these television channels,” Sean thought staring at him, “and we lap it up like brain dead zombies.”

“Francois hopes to shoot the film…, The investigation into the meltdown is being led by a fresh committee comprising of Chairman of The Economic Exchange Commission, Chief of The Federal Bureau of Financial Code Compliance, Chairman of The Securities and Banking Model and Director of The Federal Bureau of Investigation.” A pretty young woman, dressed in business suit, continued her report onscreen.

Sean’s father, in his late forties, with thick white-haired stubble, had finally found something of interest on the news channel. He lowered the remote next to him over a wooden table with the glass top.

Slumped into a chair, his father resembled a sloth, making very little movements; only when he scratched the tip of his nose or dug his fingernails in the skin folds of his neck. His eyes, though, never left the screen once.

“After being appointed as the Chairman of the inquiry committee, Supreme Court Judge Nathan Rustig Holding rushed today to meet the President on plans for the way forward. The meltdown has led to a complete fall of the banking system with top investment banks and high-profile bankers going down like deck of cards, taking years of hard earned financial securities of common men with them.?

“Over the last eight months,” he wrote,“that’s the only piece of news he has been concerned about.”

His father lowered his left arm and picked up a grey leather holster resting against the leg of his chair. The smudgy movement around the corner of his eye provoked a quick glimpse from Sean, before getting back to his diary. “That and his Colt Python.”

His father placed the holster on top of his large heaving paunch. He unzipped it and gave a slight jerk, letting the double action handgun slip into his empty palm. His fingers ran over the six-inch barrel before curling in a tight grip around the butt of the gun.

“His ritual with the gun is not much different than mine with this pen.”

While Sean poured his thoughts out on the page, his father dipped a black cotton cloth into a small plastic bottle and began wiping the gun metal with the wet fabric, “it helps us channelize, I believe.” A white square box with black lettering, .357 Magnum Cartridges, sat close to the old sloth on the glass table top.

“I doubt that there is any speck of dust on that thing, but, from the tip of the barrel to the butt, he?s going to rub every square inch of the metal clean and do it all over again each day. While in one pocket of the trouser he carries the gun, loaded, all around the house; in the other, he keeps spare bullets along with some money. Every afternoon, he puts on a shirt and walks out of the house only to return late at night, with a pungent whiff of alcohol in the air around him. That?s when mother confronts him. She bangs the doors of the house; he shouts and hits in return; and they curse each other with wailing kids around. When left with no energy to move a muscle or shoot through his dirty mouth, he drops dead on the bed only to wake up next afternoon and begin his ritual yet again.”

The gray and messy haired sloth blew out a large cloud of smoke, tapped the cigarette over the ashtray and got back to cleaning the bullets before feeding each one to the cylinder of the gun. It was then, that a squeaky voice startled Sean and pulled him back into his environment.

“He isn’t crying, playing next to daddy!”

Sean could only catch a glimpse of the receding figure of his little sister, Chloe, 13, as she drifted out to the backyard with the same pace with which she had moved in to check on their youngest brother, Percy. The two year old had occupied the territory around his father’s chair with his toys.

“I might have been a few years older than Percy,” he wrote, “when father first took me to hunting and showed me the guns. He loved hunting and back then, he loved having me around. From then on, each summer meant a new wilderness where I progressed further with my education in wildlife and firearms. Soon, we had a new land cruiser to move around in. Mother was happy too. She told me we were growing when we moved to a big house. I didn’t know what it meant, to grow. But I saw more and more of smiling relatives, neighbors and friends around us. ‘We are so happy,’ she said it often. We were. But I didn’t know why.”

“This special edition takes a look at the impact of the financial catastrophe on millions of families across the nation…” Sean now found himself away from the background noise, lost in the space between his pen and paper.

“Soon, other things became a lot more important to me; I too had found our happiness appealing. Then, eight months back, few rumors began circulating before the news came in and it led to more rumors. Much of it, gradually, turned out to be true. And it gave me the answer of a question long forgotten. Why were we happy earlier? Mother had said we were growing–cars; house; furniture; holidays; money. And now our sources of happiness were being taken away from us. We needed these, not each other, to grow and to be happy.”

Sean’s father now held the gun at the television screen. His grip seemed tight and the barrel was steadily pointed at people appearing on the screen.

“At first it was funny,” Sean continued with his own ritual, “watching him pull his colt python on anyone who knocked the house door for their money. Those agents looked stupid wearing suits in this hot weather. They would try to show bank papers and official orders to father. But the moment he pulled his gun on them, their voices would become fearful, apologetic and pleading. He would sit for hours facing the television and the door with the gun in his hands. Then, they brought cops and muscle men along in their next visit. They made a beeline in front of the house and took back everything that kept us happy and together. His shouting, scuffles and gun wielding gave birth to a fear. And his outbursts weren’t just limited to anyone who came looking for their money. Soon, it stopped being funny anymore.”

“Look at this mess you’ve created, you motherf****r!” The gruff, low voice in the air collided head-on with Sean’s thoughts. He could have sworn, he thought, the voice addressed him. In a gesture to confirm, he lifted his head up from the diary.

Percy’s little wet nose now stared at the gaping hole of the gleaming six-inch gun barrel, stretched out at him, a kissing distance away.

“Eh? How about I mess you up too, with this?” His father expressed his displeasure to Percy for the chaos that the little one had created with his toys on the floor. For a brief moment, the child stared back in silence, as if interpreting the words of his father. Then, his wet nose began to drip and he let out a piercing cry without a slightest hint of the damage it could trigger, quite literally, at the hands of his father.

Lifeless as his diary, Sean simply stared back at his father who first tried to scare Percy off with his angry look. Then, his father turned to Sean and gave him a disgusted look before slumping back, comfortably, in his chair.

“Mommy, Percy is crying!” Chloe had got back inside the house. She looked at her daddy pointing the gun at her little brother. She, then, looked at Sean. He saw a nervousness flash on her tiny face that quickly turned to fear. She turned on her heels and made a quick dash out the back door, calling at the top of her shrill voice for her mother.

“I’ve lived that fear which Chloe feels right now. For almost eight months, I’ve felt that fear; it lingers on, every moment. Your heart beats loudly in your ears. Your brain keeps ticking, anticipating that moment when something will happen once again; something that will take a very different turn. That fear chokes you; not because of the constant danger it poses. You feel the hatred in the eyes of the people who once saw happiness together. I can’t say for everyone else in the house, but the fear inside me turned into something strange.”

Chloe came back with her mother and lifted her arm, pointing at daddy. On watching his mommy, Percy found the strength to yell even louder. His father, however, scrubbed his stubble, laid the gun back on his paunch and stretched and sprawled himself, quite unaware of his approaching wife just before she yelled.

Sean, silently, kept to his diary. “There are no longer family members in this house but volcanoes. Hot rage flows inside them, anxiously waiting to spew on one another as often as it can.?

Percy held a short-lived silence as he saw his mother seize his father by the shoulder, jerking him wildly. The gun fell off the father’s belly as he spun around on his feet. The thud of the gun, landing on the floor, got lost in his loud bark at the mother, to which she shouted back in equal vigor.

“I guess it was just the money, as long as it was, that kept us together. Without it, the masks are off. But I still feel something for them. I don’t know what it is. I know there will come a time when the fear will become real. What unfolds in front of my eyes right now will push someone in this family to the breaking point. They will then have to carry the burden of their rage.”

Sean felt awkward as he sensed a silence his father held for the next few seconds. Then, a sharp slap hit across his mother’s face. Chloe, who was taking short steps toward her mother, carefully, stopped midway and backed herself a good distance away. Percy, exhausted with a soaking red face from long crying, sucked the air hard before gathering his energy to work a loud wail once again.

Every grunt, thud, and bang had strengthened and reassured Sean, as it had gradually done so over many months now.

“Before they bear the brunt and are made to feel guilty of their rage, I need to step in. What about Percy and Chloe, some may ask. They are unfortunate. In this family, fear and danger already lingers on them; out in the world, all by themselves, it will be much worse.”

It had turned into a full blown scuffle between Sean’s parents. They were using their weights to pin each other down while their hands were flying all around in an attempt to land hard blows at each other. They yelled and cursed at the same time. In an attempt to calm him down, Chloe had moved close to Percy and began sobbing uncontrollably.

“Duties in a family extend in such moments.” Sean placed the pen down carefully between the pages of his diary. He stared long at the mingled heap of colliding bodies on the floor that were his parents. He made sure not to look at the sobbing children.

Every sound had died down except Percy’s. It took a moment to sink in but when it did, the father quickly stopped short of his next blow to the mother and eased his grip on her. Both stared back at Sean. So, did the children.

Right across the house on a road outside, a large chestnut-colored horse and its colt were being led by their exhausted owner. Dressed in a grey shirt and blue jeans, the man wiped his forehead with the sleeve of his arm, and staring up, he thanked the heavens for bringing a house finally within his sight. He noticed the colt had developed an irritated walk for quite some time, jerking its legs and swaying its head to sides. May be it was the heat, he thought. He knew, more than himself, his animals were in grave need of some water and shade. He hoped that the residents of the house would be kind enough to provide that.

The colt snorted, jerked its hind leg, and hit the adult horse in its abdomen. The tired hands of the owner desperately flung around to tighten his grip on the leather strap around the beast. That was when a loud bang startled and loosened his sweaty palms. He watched, with a pounding heart, as the younger beast made a dash away from the house into a nearby field until it got lost from sight.

( Image: spekulator from sxc.hu)

Want to hear something funny? I have a good one for you-“Necessity is the mother of invention.”

Cracks me up every time.

The actual saying should be-“Necessity is the mother of adaptation, or maybe evolution.” Look around people, the nature is full of creatures that have adapted; not invented, but adapted, out of the need to survive, sustain, grow and multiply. But if anybody is itching to give me the whole –“Unlike other creatures, man is an intelligent being with a superior encephalon, which can innovate and invent” kind of an argument, I suggest you hold that itch for a few minutes more and read me out.

Let us not look at the saying in the Stone Age context, but in the context of recent times. In today’s world, where research and innovation are the henchmen of commercialization, a product is invented first and its necessity is created afterwards. Medicines are invented first and then diseases follow.

In other words, necessity follows invention. And this is made possible by one of the biggest scams in the history of the world-“Consumerism”. In today’s world success is equated with consumption. The more you consume the more successful you are. The entire education system pushes students to become better consumers. You are considered well educated and successful in life if you earn and spend more.

The latest addition to this con is the creation of a new species that I like to call-“The Uberconsumerist”. These mutants are like consumerists on steroids, specially designed to consume even those products that come with a guarantee that necessity will never follow their invention. Talking refrigerators, gory virtual games getting gorier with every new version, mobile apps that claim to make life simple but do just the opposite, combat and assault weapons that claim to be killer friendly and countless other things. It feels like, out of the entire human population, one part is paid just to come up with things that are not needed at all.

What these so called research and innovation teams, oh-so-proudly and aptly call “brainstorming”, is actually their “brain itching up a storm” to create something, anything necessary or unnecessary. These inventions are not followed by necessity, but addiction. After all, what is addiction, but an intense need which is not a necessity.

But addiction should be the least of our concerns while dealing with such inventions. The real threat comes from the fact that no one, not even the inventors can asses the risk of such inventions. Paraphrasing the words of renowned sociologist Anthony Giddens, we are not just manufacturing products but are manufacturing risks along with the products. It is a matter of great concern for social scientists all over that risk assessment as a branch of science has not been able to catch-up with the burgeoning inventions in the other disciplines of science. Such poorly equipped risk analysis system is incapable of fully assessing the risks of the new inventions.

We the market are handed these inventions just like a tiny toddler is handed a shiny looking pen. We don’t know that what we have in our hands may be mightier than sword. We are mesmerized by its shiny look and so we start scribbling, thinking of the entire world as our canvas. Social networking anyone? People, with no sense of restrain or propriety, doodle with the entire virtual world as the audience.

Here’s another good one for you – A voyeur and narcissist got married. Guess what they named their kids – Twitter and Facebook.

Another such invention – the reality shows on T.V – have changed the role that Television plays in our lives. T.V viewing used to be about vicarious entertainment, but not any more. With the advent of reality shows, the innocent couch potato’s vicarious needs have transformed into a voyeur’s perverted needs.

But, enough of this whining. Let’s talk about the solutions.

Remedy no.1 - The science of risk assessment should giddy-up so that all inventions can saddle up and ride safely on its back.

Another problem with the scientific community is that it works in isolation.

So, Remedy no.2 is in order - The scientific community needs to work in tandem with the civil society in order to address the real needs of the people. As far as assessing risk is concerned, a joint effort from both the scientific community and civil society will help identify not just the scientific risks but social risks as well.

Remedy no. 3 - The legal system can also help by making an example out of those who make technology an accomplice while violating law. In this context, the law of precautionary principle needs to be revisited and revamped.

The self-contradictory nature of this principle makes it easy for people to bend it in the way that profits them. Better and well defined laws should be framed that make innovators and manufacturers more accountable for their innovations and products.

All said and done, if we get down to the brass tacks, it is our responsibility as a society to blaze a clear line between use and abuse; moral and amoral, that will help all these instruments of society, be it science, commerce or law to function for public interest at large. We have to make efforts towards creating an intelligent and morally responsible society.

Think of it this way – Mahatma Gandhi was an inventor. His innovative ways of non-violence, hunger strike and non-co-operation won us independence. But these Gandhian ways have been misused time and again by many twisted and sometimes shrewd people who abuse the power of these ways for the wrong causes. Is Gandhiji to be blamed for introducing us to the power of persuasion? The answer is no. But, even if the answer is yes, what good will come of blaming him?

Our only shot at sanity is to be more perceptive and responsible while handling such inventions so that we use their power for good. The role that Facebook played in the latest Egyptian uprising is a case in point.

Remember kids, Spider Man said-“With great gizmos comes great responsibility”.

(Image courtesy: Daniel Conway )

I was visiting Ahmedabad last week, doing a small project for an NGO. It was my first proper visit to the city. A friend had told me that I must visit Muskaan. I didn’t know what Muskaan was and what to expect there but, being my first visit, I wanted to see all the good places in the city so I decided to follow the recommendation.

If you are visiting Ahmedabad for the first time, especially if you are from Mumbai, the thing about the city that impresses you the most is the infrastructure. The city is clean, has wide roads with separate lanes for buses, well maintained buildings, and every residential area has a park. But as you venture through the city, you can’t help but notice certain areas which have been left untouched by the all round development which the state government time and again boasts of. It seems as if these areas have been forgotten intentionally. One such area is Juhapura; it doesn’t have good roads or parks, is full of shanties, and looks as if it is a completely different city from Ahmedabad. It is adjacent to another area known as Vejalpur, where again you can see development in its full flourish. Why these two areas are in such contrast is a matter to be debated in another article.

One evening I was in the area adjoining Juhapura and Vejalpur, and decided to visit MUSKAAN. Developed by an NGO named SPRAT (Society for Promoting Rationality), Muskaan, a science and adventure park was inaugurated in 2006. The park is maintained by SPRAT and is free for everyone. Located on a wasteland in one of the most underdeveloped areas of Ahmedabad, the park is like a shower on an evening in the month of June.

The moment I entered Muskaan it felt like I was inside a time machine, and I was being propelled back in time to my childhood. All the toys and joyrides in the park got me excited and I remembered when I was a kid and used to visit the Children’s park in my hometown with my parents. These joyrides were all exactly the same but they were made of junk. Old vehicle rubber tyres have become seats for a see saw, a huge unused concrete sewer pipe became the base of a slide and a tunnel, while bamboos and steel cables became swinging bridges.

The entrance of the park has a scale printed on a flex sheet hanging from the wall. The scale is divided into three colors, yellow, red and blue. Like the scale the whole park is divided into three zones, yellow, red and blue. When a kid comes into the park, he stands by the scale and depending on his height, a playing zone is allocated to him. So, if a small kid comes in she goes to the yellow zone, while a tall kid goes to the blue zone. All the rides in the park have been carefully and scientifically designed. There’s a wall which has been constructed for rock climbing, and also swings and merry go rounds which exhibit the laws of physics. It also has an auditorium with a seating capacity of 200 people. Exhibitions and movie shows are organized in the auditorium.

The best thing about the park however is the smiling faces of the kids. They are all around us, running, laughing and playing. We organized an impromptu sports event in which the kids participated with zeal. There was not a single ride empty. The kids come from the adjoining areas and most of them belong to families who are daily wage earners. They spend most of their times playing in the park after they return from school. The staff in the park takes care of them. The kids play, share and develop a bonding amongst them. These kids were mostly very small, and some of them were not yet born when the communal riots had destroyed the peace of the city. Some of them were born in the refugee camps after the 2002 riots. Now they are moving on, learning, playing, looking forward to make a better society, to be empowered and rational so that no one can beguile them again in the name of religion.

When my friend had suggested that I visit Muskaan, I wasn’t aware that I would be visiting my childhood and the future, both at the same time. Muskaan, in itself, has the promise that no kid will lose his childhood and also the promise of constructing a better society for everyone’s better future.

Even though the mainstream national media has not given much attention to the Mullaperiyar issue, it is refusing to die. It is, in fact, exacerbating with the passing days and with increasing water level in the dam due to continuing rains in the catchment area.

The Genesis
Mullaperiyar is a story that is difficult to comprehend even for the people of Kerala and Tamil Nadu, let alone the ‘outsiders’!

It is a story of how a foreign power, then occupying the country, using their power, forced a native Kingdom to agree to give up its rights over a river and its water for 999 years, in exchange for a small amount to be paid as rent to the Kingdom. This agreement was inked in 1886.

Even after the occupying powers had left the country, the succeeding popular Government of Kerala agreed to honour the agreement that was obviously one sided – in favour of Tamil Nadu – and executed a fresh agreement in 1970, with substantially same provisions.

As a result of these agreements, the water from a dam that stood across a river flowing fully within Kerala was made available to the people of Tamil Nadu for their drinking and irrigations requirements (now this water is also used to generate electricity by Tamil Nadu). Not just that, the entire control over the dam was also given to Tamil Nadu authorities, so much so that there were instances when Kerala officials were refused to enter the dam premises even for safety inspection!

Why this seemingly unfair arrangement?
For someone, who is not aware of the geography of South India, this arrangement may seem really unfair for Kerala. But the truth is that, this was inevitable for the entire region. Since 1895, the water from the Mullaperiyar dam has been the lifeline for a large area of Tamil Nadu, with people depending on this project for drinking water, and for irrigation of over 3 lacs acres of land. This water has completely changed the landscape of an area that was prone to draught and famine until then. Denial of water would be disastrous for people and agriculture of these areas spread over 5 districts of Southern Tamil Nadu. Therefore, the arrangement is only fair in the larger interest of the region and the nation.

Disputes
In 1979, there was an earthquake in the dam area that caused panic among people. On Kerala Govt’s request, Tamil Nadu agreed to reduce the water level to 136 feet from 142 feet, till completion of strengthening of the dam with reinforcement of concrete cover, etc.

Post completion of reinforcement work, Tamil Nadu wanted to increase the water level back to the original 142 feet. However, continuing tremors in the area caused concerns among people living downstream that this lime and surki dam of such vintage may not survive a major earthquake.

Petitions were filed for, and against, raising of water levels in the dam. These petitions before Kerala and Madras High Courts were subsequently transferred to the Supreme Court for decision. The Hon’ble Supreme Court took a strict legal view in these cases and permitted raising of water to the level, permitted under the agreement i.e 142 feet.

However, continuing tremors in the area and increasing leakage from the dam (even after all the reinforcement work) caused public outrage and concern among the people living downstream. The Government of Kerala was forced to pass a law (applicable to all the dams in the State), and thereby stop the efforts of Tamil Nadu to increase the water level to 142 feet and eventually to the maximum capacity of 152 feet.

This Act of Kerala was challenged before the Supreme Court. As observed by the Supreme Court, “It may be noticed that apart from the legal and constitutional issues, inter alia, the real grievance that concerns the State of Tamil Nadu is of not being able to increase reservoir level of Mullai Periyar Dam to 142 feet. The concern of the State of Kerala, on the other hand, appears to be relating to the safety of the Dam. While the State of Tamil Nadu had submitted that in the present suit they seek invalidation of the Kerala Irrigation and Water Conservation (Amendment) Act, 2006 that seeks to override the judgment of this Court in the previous case, the State of Kerala had submitted, amongst other things, that there are genuine concerns as to the safety of Mullai Periyar Dam, and that they have also offered to build a New Dam at their cost which will ensure that there is no fall in the water drawals of the State of Tamil Nadu, and that their law is valid. (emphasis added)”

The Supreme Court went on to order the appointment of an Empowered Committee that was mandated to give its report on certain questions within a period of six months. However, the Committee which was appointed on 30th April, 2010 is yet to complete its proceedings and submit its report. Once the Committee submits its report, the Supreme Court will further hear the case, including constitutionality of the Kerala Act. Going by our current standards, even the Supreme Court may not be able to say when a final Order can be expected on this matter.

The Grievance of Downstream People
Meanwhile, Idukki district of Kerala, where the dam is situated, has experienced as many as 22 mild and moderate earthquakes since March, 2011.  The latest  of these quakes being of 3.1 and 3.2 intensity in November alone. Adding to that, the rains have caused the water level to cross the 136 feet mark. Together these factors are causing sleepless nights to the poor people living on the banks of the river. The local people have been agitating continuously, seeking protection from the dangers of the dam, for six years now. The intensity of  the agitation has picked up with the recent earthquakes.

The Mullaperiyar dam was constructed with lime and surki, almost 110 years back. Studies have shown that up to 30 tons of surki is being lost from the dam every year. Despite the reinforcement works carried out for providing concrete cover, the frequent leaks and loss of surki continues to endanger the safety of the dam, causing fear in the minds of people. They are not willing to listen to the ‘dam is strong and safe’ story peddled by Tamil Nadu anymore.

The situation has reached a stage where strict interpretation of legal rights under an agreement will not resolve the issue. Even a layman can say that a dam which was originally projected for a life of 50 years cannot remain safe after 110 years. Cosmetic reinforcements will not make it any more acceptable to the people who are living in fear. 35 lakh people are living in the affected area and will face danger in case anything happens to the dam.

The Government of Kerala is pushed to the wall. It cannot go against the genuine fear of such a large population. However, till now, its reactions have been very positive. It has adopted the policy of ‘Water for TN and Safety for Kerala’ and has even offered to construct the new dam at its own cost and continue to supply water to Tamil Nadu.

The Response of Tamil Nadu seems of be that of total denial. They refuse to accept that there is any danger to the old dam. They refuse to accept the fact of earthquakes and that the concerns of the people are genuine. They say it is all mere propaganda to promote the release of a commercial movie. Tamil Nadu has a history of water disputes with all its neighbours. In spite of Kerala’s assurances, this history seems to be weighing on its mind. No politician/party in Tamil Nadu wants to be seen as agreeing to a compromise on a ‘water dispute’.

Way Forward
A solution through mutual negotiations seems to be remote as neither party can afford to be seen compromising on their people’s interest. So, the only solution is for the Supreme Court to speed up the proceedings and also to take interim measures, such as lowering the water level.

If there is even an iota of doubt, the benefit of doubt should be in favour of safety, as the contractual rights of Tamil Nadu are far inferior to the constitutional right to life of the people of Kerala.

Remember Supreme Court’s verdict in Endosulfan? Even in the absence of conclusive proof against Endosulfan, it went with the primacy of human life, and banned Endosulfan throughout the country, pending conclusive study on its effects. Also, look at the response of the Tamil Nadu government itself towards the agitation against Koodankulam Nuclear power plant, based on the fear of what might happen if a Tsunami was to hit Tamil Nadu coasts.

If something happens to the dam, it will not only make the people of Kerala suffer, but will also eliminate any further chance of water being given to the people of Tamil Nadu.

Conclusion
Kerala cannot be expected to remain a mute spectator to the genuine danger to its people. Tamil Nadu cannot afford to lose the right to get water from Mullaperiyar as that would be disastrous to its 5 districts. So the solution is only to ensure a new dam, with adequate protection against any earthquakes, while retaining the right of Tamil Nadu to get continuous supply of water – in other words, Water for Tamil Nadu and Safety for Kerala.

Kerala has already said that it is ready bear the cost of new dam. However, Tamil Nadu may want to be a part of it to ensure its continued control over it. These are matters that can be resolved through a court order or negotiation, once the basic principle is accepted by all parties.

Let the brotherhood between people remain unaffected, even though there are enough forces working to damage that, for their parochial benefits.

(Image Courtesy: Wikipedia)

This is a movie which has Katrina Kaif as the lead star. That, by itself says a lot about the movie. Going by her roles in the past films, it would not be too wrong to infer that Katrina Kaif’s main role in any movie is not to act, but to be cute on screen. She does that in this movie too, and does it better than ever before.

Imran Khan and Ali Zafar, the male protagonists in the movie, seem to have caught Katrina Kaif’s affliction. Their focus in the movie is on being cute, rather than acting well.

The story is such that even if I was to tell you the whole of it, you really wouldn’t mind because it is predictable, and without any major surprises. So, I won’t bother to tell you anything about the story. Suffice it to say that the story is about two brothers and a girl they want to marry.

You will definitely start getting bored in the very first few minutes of the movie, but every now and then there will be a spark that will make you sit up and  give birth to a hope that the movie is going to take a turn for the better.

But, that turn never happens.

The casting director of the movie must be given credit, for he has managed to put together a cast that could, between themselves, weave the magic that results in a great movie. Unfortunately, the minor characters like Kanwaljit Singh (as Katrina’s father) and Parikshit Sahni (as Imran and Ali’s father ones) have roles that are predictable and cliched. Their acting talents have been wasted in the movie.

MBKD marks the writing and directing debut of Ali Abbas Zafar (different from Ali Zafar, the actor). Unlike many writers and directors who manage a super hit movie on their debut itself, Ali Abbas Zafar fails to impress. He will definitely have to work harder in his future endeavors to bring viewers to the cinema halls.

There are quite a few songs in the movie, but these are again near misses. They seem to have the potential, but fall just short of the mark. The songs, however, are a pleasure for the eyes as Katrina, Imran and Zafar look good in all of them.

All said and done, you should go to the theatre to watch the movie only if you are a fan of either of three main leads, otherwise you would do best by waiting till it is shown on TV.

If you have any idea about Social Media or Marketing you would know that the Viral I am talking about has nothing to do with the flu. So, you may ask, was it Pepsi or Coke that started India’s first viral campaign?

It wasn’t any cola giant nor was it any corporate house that started the first viral campaign.  It was our Satyagrahis, the freedom fighters, who were the pioneers of the viral campaigns.

Without the presence of any kind of media they made the  Quit India movement go viral way back in 1942. Within days the whole nation was aware of the movement. There was a huge army of volunteers who would paint the messages on the walls in the dark of the night, even in the most distant villages of the country. The concept of posting messages on walls could have started from there, the same message being posted on different walls in different languages, to create a wave which would jolt the whole nation awake.

The freedom fighters in order to come into limelight would get themselves caught by the police so that a court case could start. These cases were reported in the newspapers and the press, which again worked towards spreading the awareness of the cause. Much like our blogging networks these days. One bad move by a corporate or a brand and it is all over the blog world, everyone’s writing about it, spreading the words around.

It isn’t just the wall or the blogs which could have come from the stone age of viral campaigns, but also the ‘buddy referral’ system. Someone who knew anyone interested in the cause would recruit him as a volunteer for the movement. These revolutionary groups always needed volunteers who could be trusted and they always came through referrals. Later on as the groups increased in size and expanded throughout the country they would be opened to all.

In the pre-independence days the only source of instant information was telegraph, and no one would know what was happening in the world until the next day when the newspapers came out. You also had to be literate so that you could read the papers. Yet, Gandhiji’s Quit India movement or the news about the sacrifice of Bhagat Singh and friends spread like wild fire.

The recent issue of Jan Lokpal Bill became a national issue within a matter of days because of  the sensation hungry Indian media. Within days everyone who was anyone was seen debating the matter.

So, is it the medium or the message that is more important?

The people were not watching the news because they wanted to see the antics of the Bollywood actors. They were watching the news channels to witness the common people revolt against the tyranny of an authoritarian government.

Was it really the media which was responsible for the spreading awareness about the issue, or was it the issue itself, or was it the charisma of the leaders which created these viral campaigns methodically, yet unknowingly?

The message, I believe, will always be more powerful than the medium which carries it. Be it the graffiti painted on the wall or updates on the micro blogging sites, it will always be the message that would determine how long the effect of the viral would last.

(Image courtesy: flaivoloka from sxc.hu)

STATUTORY WARNING- This article is for those in pursuit of happiness. Those seeking knowledge, kindly overlook, as you might be in for heavy disappointment.

I have often heard, “Only simple people are original” (Excuse me for taking the liberty of replacing the word ‘fools’ with a more genteel substitute.) If that expression is to be believed, the intelligentsia around the world is guilty of committing plagiarism. This is quite a black and white division, separating the innocent from the guilty; the simpleton from the intellectual. But what about those who fall somewhere in between – the common denomination? What about us – the gray shades?

We come across so many different ideas, beliefs and practices every day, whether it is through T.V, newspapers, internet or through interacting with different people, that it becomes impossible to differentiate our original thoughts from the borrowed ones. Does that mean our thoughts, our beliefs, our principles and even our actions are not completely our own, but in fact a result of the amalgamation of a couple of hard sells and some original thoughts.

But is having options a good thing or bad? Well that is surely a moot point. Whether it’s a matter of painting the interiors of our homes or painting the interiors of our minds, we are provided with a lot of options from which we can pick and choose the ones, we want to get colored by.

In an age where the entire world has shrunk into one big fat noisy market place, with myriad brands offering commodities ranging from detergents, health drinks, diet regimes, philosophical and spiritual ideologies, lifestyles to social causes, the question is- where do our loyalties lie?

What are we, but a race of brand sluts hopping from one brand to another, from one ideology to another, opting for the ones that are either appealing to our eyes, or appeasing to our wallets. Speaking of ideologies, I am reminded of an incident from childhood. I used to watch a show called “Heads and Tails”. In one episode it was told that drinking cattle’s milk coming from commercial dairy farms is cruelty towards their new born. For someone like me, for whom gulping down a glassful of milk every morning was the hardest part of the day, this episode was like manna from heaven. I declared that I would give up milk forever, of course for serving a greater good. But my mom was too smart to fall for these shenanigans. She said if I gave up milk, I would have to give up all the byproducts like butter, cheese, curd and chocolates. I dropped my partially pasteurized… I mean half-baked ideology in a heartbeat.

How different am I today from the child I was then? How far is a commoner ready to go for her principles? Why do our ideologies come with the conditionality of convenience and compromises?

Let’s take vegetarianism for instance. My question to all my fellow vegetarians who look for the round green signal of 100% vegetarian before cruising on with their shopping carts is, are you a 100% vegetarian? You cannot wear a silk sari, use cosmetics stained with the blood of exotic species and sport a T-shirt with a- “I am vegetarian” chest print at the same time. Call yourself vegetarian by convenience not by principle.

I blame the never ending options that we are provided with, for our shifting loyalties. We are told that if we have all options in front of us, we can make an informed decision. But who is to say that an informed decision is in fact the right one. In a world where even information is a commodity and broadcasting information a commercial venture, how can we rely on the information fed to us? Imagine how much time of our lives we’ll save if instead of pondering for hours over which cereal to buy, out of the 25 odd options available, we pick the closest one we can lay our hands on. And this is just one item from the list of grocery. What if we consider the entire list and the total time wasted? You do the math.

Let’s face it – these products with different brand names are more or less the same, no matter how much moolah the companies spend on advertising, to prove otherwise. Then why waste time on a Hobson’s choice.

When it comes to exercising our right of adult franchise, we decide to make an informed decision and vote for a representative with the least number of criminal records and a comparatively cleaner public image. This is possibly the sole cause of the sorry state of politics today. After all, the only difference between a criminal and a successful politician is that the former lacks the clout, the political muscle and the big bucks to buy off silence.

The benefits of not knowing, rather choosing not to know are many. India might have a high mortality rate with diseases and starvation aplenty, but we can boast of having one of the least numbers of hypochondriacs. The proof is the golgappas and bhelpuris from road side shops that we relish, ignoring the unhygienic conditions in which they are prepared. The computers at cyber cafes, the cutlery at restaurants, the seats and handles of buses, all hosting parties for germs, never bother us. Indians save so much on the trips to doctors and the trips to shrinks.

As far as supporting bigger causes and having ideals goes, the lesser we stay informed or in most cases misinformed, the lesser we get manipulated. The more we rely on our original thoughts and inner callings, the stronger we would feel about our ideals and harder would we stick to them.

Knowledge on the other hand brings with it, fear, apprehension and cynicism. Knowledge on anything and every thing comes with the same set of hazards. A simple man may get duped. But look on the upside – he may never realize the deceit and stay happy nevertheless. Those who seek information are the ones more prone to deceit and what’s worse, they are stupid enough to become the targets but smart enough to know they are cheated. The more we see, the more we hear, the more we get entangled in the web of lies.

We have all tried knowledge, let’s give ignorance a chance. Now those who are still not onboard and are hell-bent on cutting a Faustian deal would be doing so at the risk of making an enemy out of the Guy Upstairs. Remember what He did to Eve when she took a small bite of knowledge. Talk about biting off more than you can chew. Our personal credo should be – Ignorance is such bliss. There is nothing in this world that we cannot afford to miss.

(Image courtesy: lusi from sxc.hu)