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Jun 25, '09

Getting Together in Goa -- THE Fropper Meet!

Sigh! The same old dilemma again! What to tell and what not to tell!
Should I tell you about our whacky invention of ‘Spot Fat Reduction through Lap Top Therapy?” Naah! That’s censored stuff!
How about Arjun’s version of Newton’s Law of Motion? Nope! Not relevant without ‘back ground’ information! I’m sure that the participants of the Goa meet are laughing now, but those unfortunate enough to miss it just won’t get the ‘flow’!
Then again, do I tell you about the scalping, skinning and mincing that took place? Ummmm… maybe… let me decide as I go along with my narrative, eh?

The prelude to the get together was a saga unto itself. Finally 18th June 2009 arrived!
Geet came from Belgaum, Bharat Selvan from Bangalore and Sunil and Khushi from Pune!
Arjun and Sumedha flew down from Delhi the next day.

1. Geet Sudha – She’s no stranger to most of us. Serene, charming, beautiful, loving and wise are just some of the adjectives that describe Geet. It’s no surprise that anyone who meets her is besotted by her! How impatient I was to meet her! And how happy I am that I finally did! She gave me some much needed advise on looking good and also boosted my self-confidence a lot! Thank you Geet! I’ll surely start working on your advise ASAP!
2. Bharat Selvan (BS) – I didn’t really know him before he came to Goa; and I still don’t really know him! Meeting does not necessarily mean knowing a person, does it? He’s

new to my friends’ list. He knew about the Goa get together from a chance comment of mine on one of his blogs and was very interested in joining, so there he was! Several times during the meet I actually felt sorry for him – he didn’t know us very well, so didn’t know that most of the times when Sumedha or I seemed to be howling for his blood we were actually teasing him! I do thank Sunil and Arjun for making him feel more at home. I definitely had communication problems with BS. Maybe it’s because he speaks with a strong Tamilian accent and most of the time has an expressionless face. That’s in total contrast to the way I speak –with my mouth, eyes, gestures—when I talk, my whole being speaks! One of the reasons why I don’t talk when I’m driving! ;-) Also, since I didn’t know him well, I couldn’t pick up much of non-verbal cues and many a time though he was serious or being offensive till he clarified that he was joking. . But overall, I really admire his spirit for attending a get together where he wasn’t bosom friends with everybody. Are the chickens reading this?? :P

3. Sunil – the new guy in my friends list. His zone id is sun9009. E4T introduced him to me and though I’ve thanked Uncly for it, I would like to do so again! Thank you Uncly, for introducing this fab guy to us! His kobra (that’s colloquial for Konkanasta Brahmin) looks did intimidate me a bit in the beginning, added to the fact that he smiled like it was a strange gesture which he had never made before. But as I got to know him better, we got along fantastically! A through gentleman, thoughtful and caring towards others, has good self-confidence, good sense of humour and is in great shape. Those of you who saw his pics in my album will know. He drove us around a great deal during the get together. Inspite of drinking beer from morning till next morning, he could really handle the car well. I’m impressed!
4. Khushi – does this lady with the enchanting smile need

any introduction? She and I had got to know each other better before the meet through chat and on the phone and I was certainly looking forward to meet her! She has joined Keeran as a respondent in my PIL against women who look the way they have no right to! A mother and a 74MIL, she had to constantly remind me that she is more than a decade older than I am. What to do? I take people at face value and her’s belies her age! Groan! Did you guys see her smile? And her eyes?? Enough to send someone on a trip without weed or wine! Like I said – respondent in my PIL! ;-)
5. Arjun – what do I tell you about this guy? Tall, broad, handsome (remember the Mills & Boons heroes?), charming,

funny, intelligent, caring…ok, I’ve run out of adjectives! He’s been my anchor throughout the planning of this get together. He helped me choose the resort, kept coordinating with the others, figuratively held my hand and patted my head when I was howling about nobody replying to my mails. I still remember him saying, “I’m confirmed. My tickets are booked. If nobody else comes then you and I will have the meet ourselves.” That’s the kind of lovey-dovey fellow he is. He was suffering from food poisoning and couldn’t eat or drink anything except curd rice and water, but he was a good sport through out and livened up our gathering with his awesome sense of humour. He was even sporting enough to laugh and joke when I threatened to take him to Casino Royale in Khushi’s sexy dress if he didn’t recover by then. It’s a rare man—one who’s extremely confident about his masculinity – that can take a joke like this. Hat’s off to you Arjun! He has also clicked some of the best pics of the get together, but refuses to email them to me. I either have to wait for him to courier a cd of pics to me or for you guys to get on his case and have him send me the pics faster. Which one is it going to be folks?
6. Sumedha – another person who really needs no introduction. More people know her than me on Fropper. As far as I am concerned, I got to know a bit about what having a sister is like. Fighting, growling at each other and the

next moment hugging, kissing and making up. Freely expressing our jealousy over who gets to sit next to Geet or hug her and then sharing wardrobe tips too. I sometimes wondered if people would start hunting for the local PETA or SPCA numbers, when she and I were snarling and hissing at each other like a couple of felines. And then they would see us giggling together like the best of friends… our interaction was certainly the ‘hatke’ variety. Though she can scare me when she starts glaring and shooting nukes, on the whole I found her to be a fun person to be with and am really glad to have met her. Perhaps because she has lost weight, Sumedha now looks like a Junior College kid. I quite felt like a much older and wiser elder sis, till she dropped a couple of revelation bombs on us. Sumi, I do miss our cat fights!

Before I proceed, let me ask you, do you remember the movie “The Mask”? And do you remember the Mask’s response when he sees Cameron Diaz at the night club? The tongue rolling out and hitting the table with several thunks? The eyes popping out and bouncing around? And the ‘wolf’ whistle? Here’s a description I copied off the net from Time magazine just to remind you:

“When he spots gorgeous Tina on a nightclub stage, his eyeballs pop like demented Slinkys, his anvil jaw drops onto the table, and his tongue cascades from his mouth; it's a red carpet for a red-hot princess to walk on. His heart thumps about a yard out of his chest. He lets howl a wolf whistle Jack Nicholson would envy and bashes himself with a huge mallet.”

I’m reminding you of this particular scene because it occurs several times in my narrative. Minus the ‘wolf’ whistle, because I can’t whistle. Though I sincerely wished that I could, during this meet! My reaction was minus the mallet too.

Now this post has already become quite long, so let me just give you some highlights.

We stayed at Laguna Anjuna resort in Anjuna. Everybody paid their own share for the accommodation, food, drinks and transport.

Sunil brought me 10 rose plants from Pune. When I first saw them in the dickey of his car was the first time I had the ‘Mask Reaction’.
Geet gifted me cushion covers, Khushi brought dress material. I wasn’t prepared for all this gifting, so didn’t buy anything! Gosh! How embarrassing!

That day (18th June) we finished lunch at about 4 p.m. and decided to go for the sunset cruise on river Mandovi. However, we started quite late and it was already dark during the cruise. Though it did help Khushi to get a good pic of the Casino Royale.
Then we picked up drinks and mineral water from Panjim market and headed for Dona Paula for dinner. The restaurant I was looking for was closed, so we went to another one nearby. The dinning area is on the terrace and we had a lovely view of Dona Paula jetty with the lights reflecting off the water. There were also a lot of mosquitoes that feasted on us. BS and Sunil are vegetarians, so they had a very limited choice of food there. Sunil made up for it with a liquid diet of chilled beer. BS, being a teetotaler, didn’t have the luxury. Sunil drove us back to the resort and drove well, inspite of the beer sloshing around inside him!
I was to return home that night and a friend came to the resort to pick me up. Even though everybody else heard me saying that my friend is picking me up and even saw him in the car, BS went up to him and asked him whose car it was and if he was the driver?! I wonder if this had anything to do with my friend’s decision to go to Bangalore and not pick me up from the resort on Sunday? Thanks BS, now I have a colossal calming down job to do!

The next morning I was to check in at the resort, but at the last minute was delayed. I had already asked a friend to adopt the roses for the weekend and water them, but as I was about to leave for the resort one of my neighbours handed over three bills to me. He had forgotten to give them to be earlier and 19th June was the last date for payment. Goan administrative machinery is extremely proficient when if comes to shutting off telephone connections if bills are not paid in time and since I didn’t want to test the water and electricity departments in this matter, I had to go and pay the bills before heading for the resort. I was so flustered that I left my make-up box and accessories behind!
My three fropperite friends were rather upset with me for wasting the morning, but did forgive me when I explained. I gifted everybody crochet doilies and table-cloths that I had made myself.
We had planned to go to Colva beach that day, but ended up talking all day. We all met up in Sunil’s room for drinks and talks, eventually Arjun and Sumedha arrived and the ladies shifted to a two bedroom cottage. When I saw the hall area of the cottage was the second time when I had the ‘Mask Reaction’.

We immediately decided that this is where the ‘durbar’ would be held and we met up again in the evening for more drinks and talk. Geet started humming ‘Yeh shaam mastani, madhosh kiye jaaye’ and I accompanied her. Sunil made some appreciative comment and I asked him to clap. He said he would clap only if we sang the whole song. So I did the whole song and he did clap. Then Geet started talking about how she loves the Koli dance and would like to learn and I obliged by showing her some of the steps. I was quite amazed that I felt comfortable enough with everybody to break into an impromptu dance! Even more amazing to me was that I remembered the song and the steps, since the last time I had danced that dance was in 8th standard! BS made some comments about us being ‘drunkards’ and the women being ‘bad girls’, but we magnanimously decided that he’s attempting to joke and so let him go unharmed. Then he told Sunil, “Very soon I’ll have a pot belly like you.” And he got promptly nuked. I said, “Excuse me, but you are the one who’s got a pot belly. Even though he’s slightly older than you, Sunil is in much better shape than you are.” This prompted Sunil to show off his muscles. I had the ‘Mask Reaction’ for the third time!

Later in the night Sunil offered to take Khushi and me to Calangute beach, since everybody else had gone to sleep. We reached the beach after midnight, when all the shacks were closed. Though there was no moon, Khushi’s glowing face made up for it after she had been to the water’s edge! After almost a decade I saw the Milky Way again. Thank you again Sunil, for that night trip to the beach! It’s something that I don’t get to do at all and was a wonderful experience for me. You know guys n gals, it’s also a rare treat to be able to interact with members of the opposite sex without kabaddi-playing hormones factoring into the equation. It was certainly great to be able to go to an almost deserted, dark beach with a guy and not feel insecure in any way. Kudos to Sunil for providing us with such a secure atmosphere and also to Arjun and BS for making things so comfortable that we gals were able to interact with them without a care!

The next morning, 19th June, we hired a vehicle to go to Colva beach. Arjun wasn’t feeling well enough to join us, so he stayed back at the resort. On the way to Colva beach we had lunch at Mardol Residency, where the fish and veg thalis are awesome!

At the beach, the three other ladies went through a transformation and emerged as mermaids! Geet has a lovely pic of them on her camera. Though I too have some great pics of Geet, Khushi and Sumedha at the beach, I haven’t

posted them in my album. I leave it to them to share the pics. This is where BS bought Sunil the sleeveless T-shirt which showed off his arms so well.
BS also gifted us with some souvenirs and Sunil gifted us ladies some jewelry.
We returned in the evening with just enough time to shower and get ready to go to Casino Royale. This is one of the off shore casinos that are anchored in river Mandovi.

There was some confusion about the dress code, especially for the men, which was finally sorted out. We women had come all prepared to dress up for the evening and had been looking forward to it for quite some time! I had left my make up kit at home remember? So Khushi and Geet helped me to doll up for the night out! Khushi was the one who suggested this outing and we all owe her thanks for a wonderful evening. It cost us Rs. 1,500/- per person, with unlimited drinks, food and dance entertainment.

We didn’t dance there, but the ‘Russian’ dancers were certainly a treat! Arjun was the one who was getting us all drinks and snacks from the counter. He made me a cocktail of his own recipe and it was ‘surlp’erb! Sunil was the only one who went to the casino deck and came back in 5 minutes after losing 1K.
We got back to the resort at 3.45 a.m. the next morning and again had a drinking session in the ‘durbar’. I think it was about 4.30 am when we all finally crawled off to our beds.
That was the last day of our get together. We all checked out by noon and went our own ways. Sigh! It seemed we had too little time with each other, and yet we got to know so much about each other and had so much of interaction.
Overall, I for one am blissfully happy that we had the Goa Get Together. Now over to the others for their feedback.

P.S. I've copied 2 of the pics from Khushi's album, I hope Khushi won't mind!

Tags: fropperites meet

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Jun 03, '09

The bulbul's story

Monday, 1st June 2009 was the day when monsoons flirted with Goa big time. The day had dawned cloudy and dark and by midmorning the rain started pouring in earnest. A neighbour and I rushed to pull down the tarpaulin to cover the open landing on the first floor, as is the custom every year at the beginning of monsoons.

As we unfurled the tarpaulin, a small nest dropped onto the floor. On picking it up we saw that there was small nestling inside, still alive. Its feathers had not yet formed; it looked like it was covered with hard quills all over and it seemed to be shaking all over – probably from the shock of the fall?! Panicked chirping from a couple of bulbuls outside the landing gave us a clue to its parentage. Since it was raining real hard, we decided to leave the nest inside the tarpaulin till the rain stopped. When it did, I put the nest at the edge of the railing, with a bit peeking out from the side of the tarpaulin so that the parents could see it and come to tend their chick. After a little while I noticed another neighbour from the ground floor picking up the nest from its place. I thought maybe he had a better idea of returning the chick to the bulbuls, so didn’t interfere. Also, there is this bit of cold war going on between us, ever since I asked him to clean his dog’s poop from my front door and swab the whole landing. Though I looked, I couldn’t see where he had put the nest. But the loud, alarmed chirping from the bulbuls continued throughout the day. It didn’t rain anymore on Monday and we smiled at the frantic activity that the false alarm had generated amongst us in preparing for the siege of the monsoons.

Yesterday morning I again noticed the bulbuls chirping and flying around agitatedly. To my untrained ears there seemed to be a distinct note of distress in their sound. I finally went down to inquire about the nest from another neighbour below. At that moment the dog owner’s daughter came out and announced breathlessly “Leo at the bird!” Leo is the dog who graces my doorstep with his excreta whenever I play with him. I was quite shocked to hear about him eating the baby bulbul. The girl’s mother came out and hustled her in, saying that the other neighbour has put the nest on the roof. “But Leo bit its neck!” her daughter managed to say before the door closed. In the absence of any further clarification, all I would decipher was that the dog owner neighbour had taken the nest down to his balcony and kept it on the railing and his dog, who reaches above the railing when standing on its hind legs, had taken a nip at the chick’s neck. When they realized this, both neighbours probably decided to keep the nest on the roof. Alas! Too late for the little bulbul!

I felt miserable about this affair the whole of yesterday, in spite of a friend consoling me and saying that it was not my fault. The frantic chirping of the bulbuls through the day did little to ease my heart.

After spending a sleepless night, today when I opened my balcony door, I felt something missing. Everything seemed to be as it usually is. Squirrels playing on the coconut trees, bugs making a whirring sound. Yet…
then I realized that the bulbuls aren’t crying anymore.

Tags: loss

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Jun 01, '09

Biscuit Baba's visit

It was a late morning. I had just managed to pry my eyes open and was in the kitchen trying to make tea in a comatose state. The previous evening had seen me getting together with my friends and trying out three new brands of beer, a new brand of white and red wine each and then, after a sinful dinner of chicken cafreal with fish curry and rice, two kinds of liqueur. Needless to say, I was higher than a satellite when I finally went to bed. And quite understandable of course, why I had to hold an eyelid open with my fingers whilst searching for the pan to boil some water for tea the next morning… Don’t get me wrong—I’ve never had a hangover till date, no matter what toxic liquids I remorselessly pour down my gullet. But I do end up sleeping for much longer than usual. Unfortunately, I had a meeting in the afternoon, so couldn’t afford the luxury of sleeping off the previous night’s get together.

The water in the pan was finally on the gas when the doorbell rang. Wondering who was at the door and thinking rather unkind thoughts about whoever it was, I stumbled to the door and peeped through the eyehole. The sight that met my eyes convinced me that I needed a lot more sleep than I had got till now.

I cautiously opened the door and coaxed apart both eyelids with trembling fingers. The vision hadn’t changed much from what I’d seen through the peephole. Something that looked exactly like Biscuit Baba stood at my doorstep. I didn’t trust my eyes yet, convinced that the beer, wine and liqueur were still up to their stupid, silly tricks. Then the vision spoke. Heartily. Disgustingly heartily, might I add?

“Hello baccha! Good morning!” Biscuit Baba said jovially.

I don’t know why, but when he spoke I finally reacted. Maybe some part of my foggy mind realized that one sense organ might be operating below par, but not two…
So on hearing Biscuit Baba speak, I jumped. I’m quite sure I broke any existing record of a reverse long jump. A rather unfortunate event, for I landed on the coffee table. I suppose it’s inevitable when one attempts a reverse long jump in a furnished living room, isn’t it? Well, I bounced back upright (I’m a whale of a person and blubber I hear is rather rubbery), but the coffee table was an interesting mosaic on the floor.

“Ba…ba…ba…ba…ba…” I stammered. That small part of my mind that was paying attention to my senses quailed. I mean, first vision, then audition and now speech—one too many of the senses under pressure, no?

“Stop bleating baccha” Biscuit Baba said kindly. “There’s no need for so many ‘Ba’s—just two will suffice.”

“Baba!” I gasped. “You? Here? Really?” Now my eyes were wide open without any help from fingers whatsoever. The aforementioned small part of my mind debated on the risk, and then decided to take the risk after all. I reached out to touch Biscuit Baba. Yep! No ambiguity this time. It was Biscuit Baba for sure, in person, solid as ever. “But Baba, you never visit anybody’s house na?” I asked.

“Yes baccha, but desperate times require desperate measures” Biscuit Baba said. “First, let’s have some tea.”
WOW! Babas are supposed to have divine intuition and here was proof! How did he know that I was making tea?

“Sure Baba! Just have a seat, I’ll be back in a jiffy.” I said.

In the kitchen, while pouring more water into the pan, I couldn’t help musing on the reviving effects of Biscuit Baba’s presence. I wasn’t the least bit sleepy any more and the mind had lost its foggy feeling. But cognitive clarity had brought with it a sense of anxiety. I couldn’t help but recall Biscuit Baba’s words about desperate situations.

“Here’s the tea Baba!” I said as I put the tray with Darjeeling green tea and glucose biscuits down on the mosaic that had been the coffee table till a short while ago. Those of you who know Biscuit Baba already, might remember that glucose biscuits are what Biscuit Baba accepts as dakshina and distributes as prasad. And now the new introducees to Biscuit Baba know too…

“Thank you baccha!” said Biscuit Baba, taking a appreciating whiff of the green tea aroma.

I let Biscuit Baba take a sip of tea before asking him, “So what’s the desperate situation that brought you down from the Himalayas Baba?”

“You baccha!” Biscuit Baba said with a slight, concerned frown.

“Me?? But I didn’t do anything!” I cried, trying desperately to recall if my actions or words of the recent past had been sinful enough to summon Biscuit Baba in person. Yet, other than last night’s dinner, I couldn’t think of anything. Sleeping off a Sunday or two with S. Radhakrishnan, or snuggling into bed with Arthur Conan Doyle couldn’t count, surely?

“Something is troubling you baccha. I could feel the turmoil in you right up in the Himalayas. It kept intruding on my meditation, so I decided to come down and have a satsangh with you.” Biscuit Baba revealed. “So now tell me what is it that has been troubling you so much?”

I gaped at Biscuit Baba…did I mention divine intuition before?

“Oh my! I’m sorry to have disturbed your meditation Baba!” I said, remorsefully.

“Never mind all that now baccha. Just tell me the cause of it.”, said Biscuit Baba.

“Oh…well…there are so many Baba!” I said. “I don’t know where to start!”

“Let’s take the first one that comes to your mind baccha.” Biscuit Baba suggested.

“Well, there is this rampant plagiarism on fropper Baba!” I started.

“Really?” Biscuit Baba seemed surprised. “How did you come across plagiarism?

“Somebody copied a friend’s poem and pasted it on his own blog, trying to pass it off as his own!” I said.

“That’s not plagiarism baccha!” Biscuit Baba clarified. “Plagiarism is when you read somebody’s writing and try to present the author’s view point as your own. This copy-pasting thing is petty theft. But surely, one should learn to keep one’s things safely if they are not to be stolen, isn’t it?”

“But that’s the problem Baba!” I wailed. “There aren’t strong security measures on fropper!”

“Baccha..!” Biscuit Baba sighed. “Fropper is a free site, isn’t it? Why do you expect them to protect your things? Will you leave your purse unattended at a bus stop and expect the bus depot authorities to provide security for it? In the same way, if you want to put up a post on a free site, why should you expect the site to provide security for it?”

“But that’s not fair!!” I howled.

Biscuit Baba immediately got up from his chair and went and sat down on the floor behind. He grasped the legs of the chair firmly and seemed to be breathing heavily, while not letting his stare wander away from me. I wondered fleetingly if this was some new yoga asana he had learnt in the Himalayas. There was that sitting cross-leeged on the floor, the fixed gaze (Maybe it was directed at my face for lack of convenient candle or lamp?) and that deep breathing-- but I was too overwrought to give much thought to it.

“How can you say that Baba? Haven’t we been taught from childhood not to take something that is not ours? Where are people’s manners, etiquettes, moral values?”

Maybe Biscuit Baba’s pranayam was getting intense, for the chair he held on to started quivering.

“Baccha, calm down!” Biscuit Baba implored. He had changed from breathing deeply to something that sounded like gulping, but then, I am not really conversant with these higher forms of yoga practice, so couldn’t say for sure. “What you are expecting are the values of the sat-yug. We are now in kali-yug. Things have changed. You really can’t expect humans to regress to the sat-yug again, can you?”

“But Baba!” I protested vehemently. “How can you say that? Do you mean that we should simply accept such things? Thefts, backbiting, slander, egoistic posturing and the lot?”

I noticed that the chair which was merely quivering before had started doing a kind of tap dance during my protests. Whether it was the noise of the chair on his roof or my voice being raised to unacceptable decimals, at this moment my neighbour from the flat below peeked in through the open front door. He took a sort of round-eyed look at me, then at Biscuit Baba seated behind the chair and seemed to change his mind about saying anything. He swiftly disappeared down the stairs.

“Baccha…” Biscuit Baba said in a soothing tone that quavered just that wee bit. “It is not so much about accepting these things as not letting them affect you that is important. If somebody steals your words, either consider it a compliment and go thank that person, or else keep your words securely locked up inside your head.”

I was aghast at Biscuit Baba’s callous attitude.

“How can you say that Baba?” I asked indignantly. What is the sense in keeping our thoughts locked up in our heads? What use is it if we can’t share them with our friends and the world at large?”

“You should keep your thoughts locked if you don’t want others to use them.” said Biscuit Baba. “Otherwise, if you are going to leave them strewn around, then don’t get upset if somebody uses them as they feel like. If somebody’s behaviour is hurting you, remember that we are all here on this earth for a limited time and when we depart, we shall take neither criticism nor praise with us on our onward journey. So don’t let anybody’s behaviour, attitude, speech or thoughts affect you negatively. Try to be detached and if possible, learn from others’ actions and words. Also remember that each one of us has a perspective which we like to think is unique. It may be that you are not on the same mental wavelength with another person at a particular time, so what you say might be misunderstood by that person and vice versa. Therefore, it is not really necessary to get upset about others’ behaviour. At same time, it is also necessary to tone down our expectations, thought I know that this is quite difficult. Don’t expect somebody else to always behave the way you expect them to. Be detached, baccha, and you will end up giving others the freedom to be who they are. Neither will you be hurt or upset; neither will you inflict hurt and tension on anybody else. And having said this, I shall now leave. I hope that I shall only get pleasant and peaceful vibes from you from now onwards.”

After this long monologue, Biscuit Baba left. No, I don’t mean he teleported or anything like that. He walked out the open front door.

I sat musing over Biscuit Baba’s advice for some time. Then my mobile alarm rang and I remembered that I have to get ready for the afternoon appointment.

So folks, I’ve decided to practice detachment…if you see a flash of light in the sky, don’t mistake it for lightning. It’s probably my shining halo!

Tags: attitude, perspective, spirituality, humour

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May 03, '09

Suicide

Sazzy brought up this topic in the Fropper Wordsmiths and my thoughts simply started climbing over each other, clamouring for expression.

So we’re not supposed to commit suicide. Life is precious and we are supposed to live it till the end. Never mind that the end ultimately comes and we all die some day or the other. But you or I, as individuals, have to right to end our lives.

I've also wondered many a time... why should someone be arrested for trying to commit suicide? Of course, one gets arrested only if one fails at the attempt, but then, the authorities aren't arresting the person for FAILING...they're arresting the person for ATTEMPTING!

Given the steep population rise et al., why not reward a person for committing suicide by helping him/her to do a thorough job if he/she fails? Or reward the next of kin?

Well, consider this...a person committing or trying to commit suicide is usually depressed or diseased...full of negativity... so he/she is doing the rest of the world a favour by ridding the world of that much negativity/disease/depression.

Also, I firmly believe that it takes more courage to end one's life than to not. The survival instinct is the strongest in all living beings and overcoming that is no small feat.

Why should others force a person to continue to live when he/she doesn't want to? Those who oppose the latter's desire to end his/her life are after all not experiencing whatever it is that’s made the person wish to die, are they? So how can others sit in judgment?

So, ok. There are people who have attempted suicide and turned back from the brink and will tell you that suicide is the coward’s way out, blah-blah. Again, my question is, how does that qualify such a person to pass verdict on how someone else should live or die?

Consider a person with a terminal illness. Said person is experiencing pain like no body can imagine. All that modern medicine can promise this person is a prolonged life with more pain and misery. Why should such a person not have the choice to end his/her life and die in peace instead of living in misery?

And who gets to decide the right or wrong of it? Why????

If dying isn’t a personal choice, how can living be a personal choice either?

Tags: ethics, suicide, choice

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May 01, '09

PM's reply to the mouse

I’ve been thinking for some time that it’s time for me to take a break from fropper, and a friend sharing justmoi45’s post LETTER OF EDITOR OF TIMES OF INDIA TO PRIMEMINISTER and also the comments I saw there has gone a loooooong way in strengthening that idea.

First of all, this is a copy-paste which has been going around on the internet from last year. The Times of India also published a notice denying that any editor of their’s is the author of this ‘letter’. So what are we doing posting, reading, commenting and sharing this 'letter' now?

Second, will someone please tell me when did the Prime Minister receive this letter? Or has it just been circulated among us so called educated, intelligent and computer literate people? It’s all very well for us to clean our spleen through blogs, but I wonder what is the use, other than making us feel relieved after spewing some of our venom?

Well, anyways, here’s a reply from the ‘Prime Minister’ to the ‘Editor’:

Dear Mr. Mouse,

I am most surprised to read your letter.

With my busy schedule and time constraints, I do not have the luxury of writing such a longwinded pointless letter as you, but I shall do you the courtesy of addressing some of your squeaks.

You say you are “everything Hindu, Muslim, Christian, Schedule caste, OBC, Muslim OBC, Christian Schedule caste, Creamy Schedule caste only what I am not is INDIAN.” I would like to remind you that what you are is out of YOUR choice. If you wished to be an INDIAN, nobody, least of all a few people who govern the country, could have made you anything else. Since YOU wished to be everything Hindu, Muslim, Christian, Schedule caste, OBC, Muslim OBC, Christian Schedule caste, Creamy Schedule caste” we, who are after all your servants, facilitated your evolution into what you wished to become. So why do you squeak now o mouse?

You squeaked about the change of President. Since it was not a secret, may I ask what YOU did about it? If you could have me appointed as Prime Minister because you did not want a ‘foreigner’ leading the nation, might not you have been able to induce both, the ruling party and the opposition to let the previous President continue for another term of office? Once again, I ask, why do you squeak now o mouse?

Mr. Mouse, you have time and again said that the government is hand-in-glove with criminals. But Mr. Mouse, when YOU are the one who elects the government, how can you squeak about this? Since you have elected us to power and have been doing so for so long, does it not mean that this is the kind of government YOU want? Oh, yes, I know, now you will do the classic mouse act and say that we have bought the votes that put us in power. But tell me, Mr. Mouse, when the rest of the country is not inclined to vote, what choice do we have but to buy votes?

In your last statement you contradict yourself Mr. Mouse. I am not leading a nation of 100 crore ‘people’. I am leading a nation of mice. And what better leader can you find than me? If you CAN find someone better than me, you are always at liberty to elect him/her to power, aren’t you?

To thine own self be true, Mr. Mouse.

Yours truly,
THE PRIME MINISTER OF INDIA

Tags: politics, protest

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Apr 01, '09

Bonding in Belgaum

I can’t remember when I’ve had so much trouble writing something…I think the last time was in 8th standard when I was asked to write an essay in Hindi on some inane topic…sigh!
The main problem with writing this post is that almost everything we did, spoke... practically everything is censored stuff!
How can I tell you about the irreverent way we giggled in the Jain temple, or why? Or what I said to Keeran about her…umm…never mind! That’s all girlie stuff that our fropper galpals will get to hear when we meet up next!

Anyways, first I thought ‘Who on fropper would be interested in knowing about my trip to Belgaum? Already so many pics have been put up na?’ I mean, after all those pics, if I ask my friends to read about the trip too…asking a bit too much, don’t you think?
But hey, Keeran insisted, so out of some misguided sense of loyalty for friendship…here it is.
NO, Keeran, I’m not writing this because you said I don’t qualify for the next fropper meet in Belgaum unless I write this post. Do you really think the Queen Cat will give in to such petty threats?? Hah!

Writing a detailed account of what happened, what we did, what we ate, etc. (everything uncensored, that is) is impossible…the first day ran into 4 pages; that’s when I gave up my first attempt at this post. Subsequently, several attempts to contain the length of the post have also failed. But this is my last and final attempt. Whatever I write this time, I shall post, and you, my friends, will have to read. My apologies in advance, as also my condolences for your mental anguish.

Just what is it with these Belgaum women, I wonder? First Renu conducts successful satyagraha to get me to Belgaum, then these two women manage to somehow extend my day trip into a two nights’ stay, then here I am, writing this post…Rani Chennamma’s spirit infecting the ladies???? (Rani Chennamma is one of those queens who got onto a horse and let the bad guys have it big time! Didn't get a pic of her, else I could have shown you...I wonder if she's related to Rani Laxmibai?)

Anyway, I did plan to make it a day trip to Belgaum…testing the waters, so to speak. After some disappointing and even disastrous meeting with online ‘friends’ I’m a bit wary of these first meetings. But I never expected the female bonding that happened.
Keeran and Renu are quite, quite bratty...

Renu, Keeran and I were like giggly schoolgirls most of the time, with poor Pradip being the odd man out!

Oh, we did try to fit him into our interactions…but…girlie talk is never a man’s comfort zone, is it?
For example…we went to that Jain temple (all our sightseeing was suggested and planned by Pradip) and there…Renu did something that had all three of us burst out into irreverent giggles… any wonder that most of the time Pradip was like….

the proverbial fish out of water, gasping for breath?! Sorry Pradip!

What else should I tell you about my trip? How I resented Keeran for having and flaunting a body that ought to be illegal on a mother of a 21-year-old? So what if I also have immense respect for the sheer self-love and discipline it takes to maintain such a well-toned and fit body? So what if I admire Keeran for the effort she puts into always looking good and superbly presentable? I’m a woman too, so resenting any other woman who looks better than I do is a god-given right which I choose to exercise freely! So there!

Speaking of admiration, I also admire Keeran’s eye for detail, her guts to rise phoenix-like from some rather tough knocks in life, the way she’s brought up her sons and the relationship she shares with them. Seeing her talking to her sons, I wondered if even they remembered that she’s their mother and not just their best friend…that’s how the three of them interact. And then there is her garden, her spick-n-span well decorated house, her buzzing boutique. And yet, inspite of having made such a success of herself, Keeran comes across as rather unassuming. Oh, she’s confident, certainly, proud of her achivements, yes, but not snobbish. With her mother, she’s just a daughter, not a business tycoon. And with friends? She’s an inspirer, motivator, confidante…and oh-so-fun to be with!

And what about Renu?
She’s a woman brimming over with love for everybody! AND a stalwart friend is the best way to describe her I think. Just try, only try, saying something nasty or being rude to one of her friends, and she’ll be at your throat protesting about you being unfair to the said friend. She doesn’t need Dagny’s rampuri to convince you – she’ll do it in such a sweet and reasonable way that you’re bound to feel like a jerk for being so bad to her friend. And don’t let all that softness – physical and verbal—fool you either! This is another lady who’s overcome a lot of adverse situations and is in the process of being her true self – she’s a softy with a core of steel.

And did I tell you about how kind and caring both of them are? From Keeran taking me to a loo stop right after I got off the bus, to Renu freezing a bottle of water for my journey back, to both of them feeding me the most ummmmmmmmm!!!! of meals… so many things that they did touched me by their thoughtfulness. Keeran knows some great food joints in Belgaum and is also a great cook herself. And Renu is like goddess Annapurna… she feeds her office staff everyday with home cooked food and did the same with me too. I haven’t felt so cared for in a very long time as when Renu sat at her dinning table to make sure I had a hearty breakfast on the day I left, so that I don’t have any junk food on the way.

Overall, I’m quite glad that I went to Belgaum and met Renu and Keeran – I didn’t realize that I was missing out on galpal company so much! Sigh! How we laughed, giggled, exchanged sob stories, bitched about others... and had fabulous fun during those couple of days! Thank you sweethearts, for being just good persons and such sweet friends!

Tags: fropperites meet

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Mar 27, '09

QC gives 25!

Dagny tagged me to say 25 random things about me and for a change I’m playing along. So here goes:

1. I’m a happy person – most of the time.

2. I consider regrets a waste of time. I either learn from my experiences or accept them as a part of my personality.

3. I don’t wallow in sorrow or self-pity and am uncomfortable around people who do. To me, sad or painful experiences in my life have helped to me know my strengths and make me the person I am today. Without them, I wouldn’t have grown and evolved. No, I can’t honestly say I’m happy or thankful about those parts of my life, but I believe that I’ve made peace with them.

4. I never (and I mean NEVER) give out somebody’s contact details without asking them first. And I expect this gesture to be reciprocated. Please understand that if someone doesn’t have my telephone number of email id, it’s because I haven’t given it to them and there is bound to be some reason for it. So please don’t be generous with MY contact details. If you have them, it’s because I trust you and like you enough to be in touch with you. Don’t abuse this privilege.

5. I detest wimps and hypocrites. If you don’t have the conviction to act on your words, keep your mouth shut.

6. I’ll ask the world AND its aunt for an opinion – and then decide what to do on what feels right to me.

7. I’m blessed—honestly and truly blessed. The reasons for this are too many to go into over here.

8. (oh man! Now this is getting difficult. I’m running out of things to say about myself!) I’m comfortable being the person I am. There are things about me that I know can be changed for the better, but I’m not killing myself over them.

9. I’m addicted to reading and smoking.

10. To me, every new day is a surprise – the sun rises from a different place than yesterday, the breeze is new…and I don’t have any idea what the day will bring! I love it like this!

11. I HATE doing housework!

12. Some day, some how, I’m going to use Dagny’s own rampuri on her for tagging me in this game. I’m quite convinced about this.

13. I plan to die without any regrets. Which means I plan to LIVE to the hilt before I pop off.

14. I laugh a lot (as if you didn’t know!)

15. I cry – alone—when I feel sad, then wipe off the tears and smile again. This is what keeps me going.

16. I believe every problem has a solution – I just need to look for it.

17. My mantra in life:
For every ailment under the sun,
There is a cure, or there is none.
If there be one, try to find it.
If there be none, never mind it!

18. I’m very sensitive and susceptible to the atmosphere around me. So I try to be around positive people as much as possible.

19. I don’t always have something to say. At such times I keep quite.

20. I have great respect and fear for the power of words. So am very careful how I use them.

21. I HATE confrontations. Most of the time I’ll just withdraw or keep quite. It’s only when I’m backed against the wall that I hit back.

22. When I DO hit back, I can be quite ferocious, ruthless, even cruel.

23. My eyes speak. So my tongue many a times doesn’t have to.

24. I don’t lie. It’s more because of my poor memory than a desire to be truthful. I can’t remember what lie I’ve told, so am bound to be found out sooner rather than later. So telling the truth is easier.

25. I’m sinfully lazy, unless I’m caught up with something that I really like doing. Then I’m a tornado!

Whew! Finally done! Now I get to tag some others… as Dagny said, I’m tagging you because I want to know you better; so please play along!

1. Linda (suchislife_ia)
2. Ashutosh (Mydream2008CAP)
3. Ajay (rat_race)
4. solarflare
5. Disha (neha_sh2000)
6. padma (marple_jane)
7. Mr. Rajmanohar (writer2001)
8. suresh (VintageWine48)
9. Partha (KholaAkash)
10. shama (alamara2000)
11. soma (tearose2002)
12. gagan (gags804)
13. tanu (tanu1952)
14. Vaishnavi (tamizhachi)

Those whose names are not included here, please know that it's because you've already been tagged by somebody else. And if I've tagged someone who's already been tagged...well, what are you waiting for eh??

Tags: dagny's tag

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Mar 10, '09

Celebrating Women

This post is late, but it had to be written; so here goes:

1. Being reborn.
Fropper Team asked who I would like to be reborn as.
My answer: I wouldn’t want to reborn at all!
I would rather live this one earth life to the fullest and depart with all accounts tallied. No regrets, nothing pending to be done in another life.

In case that’s not possible, then, I would want to be reborn as myself! If I have to live again, then I would live that life the same way I’ve lived this life and intend to live it till the end of my days here—following my conscience, my best and greatest guide. Living without prejudices, open to different thoughts, attitudes, people, situations…learning constantly from them all. Being able to accept a view point different from my own, yet having the strength of character to stand firm on my values, principles and beliefs. And most important, being easy enough not to get worked up over a difference of opinion or behaviour and yet not taking any crap from anybody!

Come to think of it, aren’t we all reborn every day, every minute? It’s a new sun that rises every day, from a different place than yesterday. It’s a new breeze that blows in every morning and evening, whispering that life is great, to be lived and relished!

2. Celebrating women:

There can be no doubt that over the time that humans have inhabited earth, there have been exceptional women who deserve our reverence, who have been trailblazers, who have accomplished great deeds. But for me, celebrating women is an everyday and all encompassing affair.

I celebrate the peasant woman who does all the work in the house and also slogs in the farm.
I celebrate working woman who takes care of filling water, cooking, sending the kids to school, working in a dead end job and coming back to help the kids with homework, making dinner, tidying up and preparing for the next day again.
I celebrate the hi-fi career woman, well groomed, polished, who travels to work in a sleek car, pits her intelligence and ambition against her male colleagues, comes home to a maid who’ll make her tea/coffee and heat the bath water.
I celebrate the old woman who’s lived, seen and learnt more than I have. The woman whose every wrinkle attests her wisdom gained in the travails of life.
I celebrate the ayah who’s more a mother, fiercely loyal and possessive of her charges.
I celebrate the younger maid who’s working to at menial household work to feed her kids and her alcoholic and abusive husband.
I celebrate the even younger maid who dresses to the nines on the way home and makes coy eyes at the neighbourhood loafers.
I celebrate the mother, who gives us the very life we live.
I celebrate the sister, who’s friend, confidante and guide.
I celebrate the wife, a partner for life, is strength to her husband when times turn bad and who revels in her husband's happiness when times are good.
I celebrate the daughter, a source of solace and joy to parents.
I celebrate the daughter-in-law, who takes on a different life altogether and not only makes her place in her new home, but soon becomes the pillar on which the home life balances.

I celebrate that woman who has faced the challenges in life well, is definitely unbroken, smiling inspite of the unshed tears in her eyes that make the Kohinoor look dull in comparison.

I celebrate the spirit of those women who not only managed to survive in the face of seemingly insurmountable challenge, but, refusing to be limited to creating a niche, have gone on to create an entire life for themselves, women who can look themselves in the eye and be happy with what they’ve made of themselves.

The women I celebrate are not just those few who have had the spotlight focused on them. These are the "aam janta" women whom I meet everyday, everywhere…

Perhaps that’s why celebrating something like Women’s Day doesn’t make sense to me. That’s probably also why this post didn’t make it within the deadline for the competition…you see, I celebrate women everyday and everywhere!

And besides, since when did the Queen Cat start following rules???

Tags: women's day

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Oct 23, '08

Dark Dawn

Dark Dawn

She looked at the blood flowing from her finger, bemused. She hadn't meant to cut herself, it was just an accident. She had been feeling restless and come to the kitchen to make some coffee. While rinsing the cup it slipped and broke in the sink. When she started picking up the pieces, one cut her finger and blood started flowing non-stop. The clock on the wall said it was 06:20 a.m. She had no idea what date it was.
She kept watching the blood, unable to move, to do anything to staunch the flow.

The kitchen was lit by a dingy little bulb that cast miserly illumination, leaving the corners dark.

The world outside the big wide window over the kitchen counter reflected her world inside... dark sky, lashing rain, brilliant flashes of lightning.

It had been like this for so long...she had lost track of how long.

Suddenly, the emotions welled up inside, overflowing in the tears that rolled down her haggard face. The fear, shock, anxiety, horror, sorrow of the past all jostled for center stage, creating a turmoil that made her heart feel like it would explode in her chest any moment. Helpless, she sat down on the floor and wailed. Cried as if trying to throw up all the emotions and turmoil within her. But her heart -- oh that treacherous heart!-- refused to let go of its burden. And so much of burden it had! Losing her life had been very heavy. Not the physical life that involves breathing, eating, sleeping. The life that she had built her identity on, the one that her sense of self depended on. Relationships. Being someone to another person.
She should have been able to gather the shattered parts of herself to mould into a new person, but she could not. Of all that she had lost, the loss of child was what had broken her completely. To know that she would never look upon the child ever again, never hold the child in her lap ever again, never hug the child to her ever again, never sing a lullaby to the child ever again, never feel the child's leg on her in her sleep ever again, never see the shining eagerness in the child's eyes ever again... there seemed to be no way to come to terms with this loss.

For so long now she seemed to be living an underwater sort of existence... perceptions dulled just that little bit, sight blurred just that little bit, movements slowed...just that little bit. To the rest of the inhabitants of the world she probably seemed ok, maybe a little dull, but ok. But to her the rest of the world had stopped making sense. So what sense did it make to continue with this physical life anymore? Why struggle to breathe, when every breath had to make a tortured path past her choked throat? Why should her heart continue to beat, when every beat only succeeded in hammering home her loss; when her heart felt about to burst into little smithereens within her, but at the same time felt as if made of lead, heavy, sinking, dragging her down to drown in the misery of her memories?

Outside, thunder rolled loudly, lighting struck somewhere nearby. The window rattled with the force of the strike, illuminating the kitchen for an instant in harsh white light.

Her tears has subsided and she stood up. Looked that the cut on her finger again. It had stopped bleeding now. Just a blot of dark red where the blood was clotting over the cut. She looked at the broken pieces of porcelain in the sink. If they could cut her finger, could they not serve a better purpose? She was so weary of carrying the burden of grief. She decided that she did not have the strength to go on. Yes, she was finally taking a decision, instead of just being a piece of wood being tossed around in the storm that her life had become. She was choosing to free herself from this unending agony. Even the thought of making a decision gave new life to her limbs. Resolute, she picked up a broken piece of the mug from the sink...

Tags: sorrow

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Sep 24, '08

Biscuit Baba learns a new method of Kundalini Awakening

It was one of those lazy daisy days, sun shining brightly and birds twittering in the trees.

Biscuit Baba and I were having a satsangh in a meadow. As usual, with chai and glucose biscuits -- Biscuit Baba's dakshina and prasad -- the glucose biscuits I mean, not the chai.

"So Baba, how are things with you?" I asked, eager to know news of Biscuit Baba, since we were meeting after a long haitus.

"Well baccha, I couldn't keep away from the Himalayas any more, so I went on my usual pilgrimage. The Himalayas are indeed the home of the Gods baccha!" Biscuit Baba said reverently.

"Hmm...yeah, I should think so" I agreed.

"And what have you been up to in the meanwhile baccha?" Biscuit Baba asked.

"I have been meeting a few men from Rockker Relationship Baba." I replied.

"What's that? A Rock group?" Biscuit Baba inquired.

"No, no! It's a social networking site where you can meet potential mates, or just make friends. I registered my profile in the section for relationships, which is supposed to be for meeting potential mates or forming some serious relationship" I explained.

"Oh! Well, that's good! So have you formed any serious relationships yet baccha?" Biscuit Baba asked.

"No Baba. I met five men and they all were a disappointment. Every one of them!" I said. "Though I've made it very clear that I don't want to have any relationship with married men other than being friends, these guys led me on and then when we met the truth finally came out." I was disgusted remembering the hoodwinking nature of those men.

"In what way? What truth?" Biscuit Baba asked.

"Well, four of them said they were separated, and when we met I found out that what they meant by being separated is working in a place that is away from where their wives live. And on this ground they wanted to have a physically intimate relationship with some women! Naturally, I was incensed!"

"But why baccha?" Biscuit Baba asked. "These men were technically right na? After all, they ARE separated -- from their wives! And having once tasted the fruit of the conjugal bed, such men would find abstinence difficult I suppose..."

"Even worse was the fifth one Baba!" I said. "When we met, he gave me a lot of gyaan about not wanting to build a relationship on lies, and admitted that all the time we corresponded by mail, he had been doing just that! The guy is married, living with his wife!"

"Really??" Biscuit Baba seemed amazed. "And this maha-purush wanted to take on another woman?" A menancing note crept into Biscuit Baba's tone. "Where is he now? I would really like to meet him."

"I don't know where any of them are now Baba." I replied. "After meeting them I felt they are in need of spiritual awakening, so I helped their Kundalini Chakra to rise. After that I have not seen hide or hair of them even on the net. Probably they've headed for the hills to become sages or saints."

In the past, while sharing interesting news with Biscuit Baba, whenever I expected him to sit up and take notice, or get excited, Biscuit Baba has been disappointingly placid. So I had given up on such expectations. Imagine my surprise then, when Biscuit Baba on hearing my news put down his mug of tea and looked at me with amazement writ all over his face.

"FIVE MEN??" Biscuit Baba seemed agast. "Just what did you do? Teach them pranayam or had sex with them?"

"Neither. Both these methods are too 'iffy' Baba." I said. "My way is absolutely garaunteed to give results."

"Baccha!" Biscuit Baba drove an anxious hand through his hair. "Just tell me. I've braced myself."

"Why don't I give you a demo Baba?" I asked.

"NO!" I doubt if even the Big Bang experiment would be able to match Biscuit Baba's explosion. "I pefer to hear it from you in words baccha."

"Well Baba, they say that the Kundalini Chakra is at the base of the spine, and awakening it makes it move upwards, thus making the subject spiritually evolved, right?" I asked.

"Yes, yes!" Biscuit Baba couldn't seem to get over his agitation. "Just tell me what YOU did!"

"I simply kicked them hard on the base of their spines, and their Kundalini was awakened." I replied

"WHAT??" I wouldn't be surprised to know that some new galaxy has been created as a result of Biscuit Baba's outburst. Birds flew off the trees, a few fruits fell to the ground, along with two squirells and a monkey.

"Look Baba!" I said, pointing excitedly. "You've awakened the monkey's Kundalini Chakra now! See the glazed look on it, like the universe is unfolding before its eyes?? That's exactly how those five guys looked after receiving the kick!"

For a moment I thought a motorcyclist nearby was having trouble with his scooter, judging from the sputtering sounds I could hear. I looked around, eager to be of assistance, when I realised that the sounds came from Biscuit Baba.

Biscuit Baba had taken a sip of chai, perhaps in an effort to calm himself and suddenly started laughing helplessly. Thus the sputtering sounds.

"Baba?" I asked tentatively.

"I was just thinking about what the sages of ancient India would have to say about your method of helping spiritual evolution baccha" Biscuit Baba said as he collapsed on the ground.

Tags: humour, spirituality, relationship

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