No more posts :(

I hate to inform everyone that I won't be writing any more blogs.... till around 15th of November that is :D...

In a freak accident I managed to destroy my modem and now I have no way of going online while at home, and I can't be caught blogging while I'm at work... So laterz...

Intervals

A lot has changed ever since I was first introduced to my first television set. Although I can't actually remember the first time I saw a TV, so as far as I'm concerned it has been there all along... just like the trees and the sun and the stars... An interesting phenomenon that came from television was the concept of intervals, a slot fueling the programmes that we get to watch... time for ads, for the channel to let us know what else it has in store for us.

In a way people's lives have started revolving around these intervals... They have been for quite some time... It's around 8ish in the evening and somewhere a mother (fathers too now) is busy preparing a meal, trying to fight against the clock, ensuring that she doesn't have to go leave the table once the family sits down for the meal. The clock strikes 8, the family has gathered at the table, the television is on and their favourite family show offering the best of people singing, crying, back-stabbing, or whatever...

Talking is now forbidden, and nobody moves until the first 10 or 15 minutes are over and it is time for a break.... The countdown begins... Everyone scurries about heading for the kitchen or the bathroom or wherever they wanted to go... It won't be long before the programme will resume and order will be restored... It's like a game of musical chairs, only there is no music... it is only the television. And come to think of it, the advertisers / channel programmers are the controllers... but it isn't all bad, cuz everyones a winner....

Also, when watching a long movies... intervals aren't so bad... they let you stretch your legs, relieve yourself, get munchines etc etc.... However, they can prove to be quite irritating and annoying when watching a suspense filled murder mystery and the intervals appear at all the right times...

But thanks to the technological advancements, over the past few years I have added quite a few movies and TV Series to my collections. You can now go out and buy entire seasons of your favourite programmes and go through 10-20 episodes in a single day!! And at the end of the day you'd realize... "What a terrible waste of time!!! I could've done so much. If only there were intervals!!" So in a way, I miss those intervals and intermissions.... They allowed me to do so much more with my time... I mean, I do enjoy watching ads too ( I have too :D) but intervals will always be time-management tools to me :D ....

No Topic

The title of the post is not what it is cuz I cudn't come up with something better. It's called "No Topic" because it's about nothing. It's about nothing cuz I have nothing to write about. And that, is a very very strange phenomenon. Almost a month ago I when I was in India, I had several things to write about, but ever since I came here I seem to be drawing a blank.

I go for long walks, I cook my own meals, I watch TV even though nothing good's ever on, and I can't seem to find about anything! How pathetic is that. This is the pits! I'm actually writing about the fact that I have nothing to write about, and you're actually reading it, and I've finished almost two complete paragraphs...

So... No, it's not really about nothing, it's about me trying to figure out why is happening. So it's essentially "Life in Mumbai "vs "Life in Livingston".

First, Life in Livingston... To but it briefly, it's easy... It's a tiny little village in a tiny country. However, being a village is no reflection whatsoever on the type of facilities that it has to offer. It's like any other modern city with wifi hotspots, malls, movie halls, designer clothes.... everything.. just smaller.... I'm yet to see a building that has more than 4 or 5 stories. Huge open land covered with the greenest variety of grass, tall spotless trees, the cleanest roads I have ever seen and a handful of human beings. 

Zipping back to Life in Mumbai.. In one word... Mess.. And that too of the best kind. A place where everything that can go wrong, does go wrong. Home to more people than the entire population of UK ( and perhaps Ireland too). Horrible weather, the land of perpetual traffic snarls, a pedestrian's nightmare. It is considered to be one of India's most developed cities, and yet ironically basic amenities like water and electricity are far from being basic. A city that is unworthy of being called a city. 

However, Livingston gets very boring, very fast. Life here is almost the same everyday. It doesn't change. The landscape was beautiful yesterday, and will be beautiful tomorrow as well. It doesn't offer the sense of adventure that an Indian city like Delhi or Mumbai can. Living under a  constant threat of being killed by a flood, or being run over by a car, or a train, or stampede (at Dadar station)  is probably what inspired me to write. 

All the people who work here do so many exciting things like sking or some form of water sports. If you leave work at 5 or 6 and strictly work 5 days a week, and live in boring, never-changing villages then you'd need to do something like that. Building their own cars, their own homes, their own furniture... Who the heck has that kind of time in India??? And even if we did get off at 5 or 6 every day, the ride back home is enough to ensure that the rest of the evening is ruined. 

So when compared, Mumbai, or for that matter, any other Indian city really really sucks compared to even a tiny little scottish village, or suburb. But still, I miss my India. It was where I was born and brought up. I miss the sense of adventure, I miss the people, I miss the culture... Because when I was there, I was completely unaware that life could actually be so simple. When 

I flick a switch, the bulb will always come to life (Yes, I know, unless it's fused. Ha ha very funny.. Pay attention. I'm making a point!!). When I turn a tap, water will always come rushing through. Winters, although colder than India's are much more comfortable, becuase everyone is better prepared, with central heating. The roads and  houses were built to withstand the rain. There is no dust. I've been here for a month and I haven't had to polish my shoes yet. Houses are cleaned only once a week, sometimes even lesser. 

Why can't India have all that? It just hurts so very much to see how far behind we are. At times I think I'd probably be happier had I never come here. Ignorance, as they say, is bliss. Drive in Mumbai, and you can drive anywhere in the world, they say... Try driving here, where almost everyone follows the traffic rules like their life depends on it... Wait a minute... it does depend on it! Everyone's does... Even in India... Yet, we like to believe that we're immortal... and we're unwilling to learn from the tens of thousands of deaths on India's roads...

I think I know what the problem is. We Indians, all of us, we're a bunch of cowards. We're happy with what we have. "The country is rotting away, but it isn't my problem as long as I get my salary and Cable TV every month, and as long as I can party." We have all become experts at ignoring whatever is wrong and have learnt to live with whatever life throws at us, or takes away. Life in Mumbai is a testament to that fact. When I hear someone say "You'll hate Mumbai at first, but eventually it kinda grows on you" I feel like knocking out that person. All that means is that eventualy, you'll give up and get used to all the pain and suffering. 

It's time to evolve people. Not individually, but as a nation. Everyone wants more, but only for themselves. It's time to want more for India. It's a long journey, and I have no idea about the how, what and the when, but I think a good start would be if we all started saying "Thank You" and "Sorry". So drop that ego and be nice to your fellow human. 

Wow, so much for not having anything to write about. The reason why I can't write about anything because there isn't anything to write about. I can't help but compare this place withIndia. And I don't want to. I don't want to be an NRI who has left and has given up on his country, but I don't know what to do either. All I do is write, and hopefully enough people will read this post and maybe something will happen. Maybe it will start the much needed revolution... Maybe I'll have something more to write about someday...

Being a Man

I've been in Scotland for over a week and haven't touched a drop of anything alcoholic, or anything cold for that matter. In fact, I haven't had any coffee either. I love coffee ! I used to have 3-4 mugs of coffee on any given day. Many of my friends back home go "Tsk Tsk Tsk". Yeah, so my being unwell was a large factor contributing towards my restraint, however, I feel good. I've been out of college for 5 years now and I refuse to look at alcohol as some kind of a party game. I never was a drunkard or anything, I just enjoyed drinking. No pressure, no emotions, just a few drinks every once in a while, though not too often, and that's it.

But I can see that drinking has become, or is becoming a problem with most of my friends, who simply cannot seem to do without it. Over the past few months, my drinking has gone down significantly. A person who cannot hold down over half a bottle of whisky, or refuses to drink, is considered "unmanly". Of course, the experts deciding this, are on the the better side of the other half of the bottle. What does drinking alcohol have to do with being a man? I know women who can drink more than a few pitchers and then walk back home like nothing ever happened. What does that make them?

Being a man, is not about pulling off foolish stunts, it's not about guzzling down booze, or stuffing food down your throat... Genetically, men are stronger than women. Does that give men the right to take advantage of women on the streets? Some "men" seem to think so. I heard in some movie, "With great power, comes great responsibility." In my book, any man who takes advantage of anyone weaker than him is hardly worthy of being called a man, and such a specimen should be caught and publicly castrated.

Perhaps the punishment is a little too harsh, but it is every man's duty and responsibility to protect the people around him. Children, the elderly, even innocent animals and women. Especially women. It shames me to see the number of crimes committed on women by men. Many a times I wish that one such man would cross my path. I would set such an example that... Anyways, I'm not trying to promote violence, however, when a man forgoes one of the purposes of his existence, then he must be made an example of.

So I say this... A man, is one who protects those around him, and treats them with great respect. A man is one who is aware of his powers and his capabilities, and everyday, consciously chooses to use them for the benefit of others. A man is one who sees and understands the pain of others and does everything he can to rid the person of it. A man, is a protector of all that he stands for. So where the hell does drinking and smoking come into the picture? Those are just masks, for cowards to hide behind. Not that drinking is bad.. :D, but to think that it makes you man, is a cowardly act... So go ahead... Be a Man, a real Man !!!

Raju Cleaner

Every day after I reach my office, after I park my car, I take a few steps across a wet road and climb up a few soaked steps to reach a door that will take me to the reception from where I head towards my bay. During this short journey, I always see a Janitor busy mopping the floors. Meet Raju Cleaner. I can't help but feel incredibly guilty for Raju. For some reason my company has decided to not use doormats for my particular building, forcing me, and several others to walk in without wiping / drying off our feet.

The timing factor here, is simply remarkable. Every time the poor Raju takes a moment to admire his work, a meeting would finish, or it would be lunch time, or time for a cup of coffee or it could just be a group of people who come running in, all drenched and soaked from the rains. All of them probably causing our dear Raju to hate himself, his life, his job and just everything under the sun.

Yet, perhaps keeping in mind his family, and the hungry bellies that his measly salary will feed, he shruggs away the hatred and starts over. Every time, every day, through-out the year, year after year. Munna Bhai MBBS suggested the Jaadu ki Jhappi, but would it really work in real life? I feel terrible walking over a freshly mopped floor. Yet, I must. I'm not brave enough to go give a jaadu ki jhappi to Raju, or any of his colleagues, but I do kind of apologize, or at least wear a guilty look on my face. I try to rid my shoes of as much water as I possibly can on the cold, hard surface before trespassing over Raju's recently completed and well-done job.

I can't do much, but I'd like to believe that wearing a look of guilt on my face, apologizing and ensuring that Raju sees me making an effort to dry off my shoes makes a difference. Maybe he won't hate me as much. Maybe he won't hate himself so much knowing that there are people who care and who appreciate him and his work. Thank you Raju, for making my blue speck a much cleaner place to live in. And thank you Munna Bhai for opening our eyes.

Dust Inc.

Before you proceed to read this, I must warn you, that reading this post might literally leave you breathless. However, for your own good, you must fight the urge and continue to breathe, just as you always have...

Every morning on my way to work, I notice an army of sweepers busy pushing aside all the layers of dust on the roads. Go to any developed country, dust is something they seem to have almost eradicated. In India though dust is an industry employing several millions in the form the sweepers, baai's etc. They keep sweeping our streets and our homes to rid of us this dust, which in all probability is the same dust that was forced to reluctantly just leave yesterday. Why can't we seem to get rid of this darn dust! It just seems to be all over the place, all the time!

Now I'd already warned all of you, so brace yourselves. I read somewhere a little while ago, that of the several things that comprise household dust, some very interesting ingredients are human / animal skin, cells, and hair. I'm not sure where I read this, butI did find a reference of the same here.

So, the air that you've been breathing all your life; the air that has miraculously been transporting oxygen to your lungs; air, which is around 25-50% dust, also forces you to breathe in tiny little particles of decayed, defunct, fallen off skin, cells and hair from all over the place.

Now that we know what constitutes our dust, and while our faces turn blue from not wanting to breathe it in anymore, ponder upon this. India is one of the most populated countries of the world and the honour of packing most of that population in minimum amount of space goes to Mumbai. So I think more population equals a more dusty environment.

The Language of Thought

Picture this; it's a Friday (Saturday for some :D ) evening. You're sitting at your desk, restlessly peeking glances at the clock on the wall, waiting for it to end your long and tiring work week... And while you're waiting, you're planning your evening...

"On my way home, I've to pick up 'X', 'Y' and 'Z' from the shop on ABC and then I'll go watch a movie with 'DEFGHI' and we'll have dinner at 'Hotel MNOP' and blah blah blah..."

So in what language did u plan out your evening... Was it English, Hindi or some other language? Language is something that helps us communicate with others in an intelligible manner. Do we need a language to communicate with very own selves? We were certainly not born that way! But that's how we have become...

So if we've become so hard-coded to think in a particular language, then how does a person who was born deaf, think ? So try this exercise... Plan out something, and use only pictures... Picture anything you want...

Done? There yet? Wrap your minds around this then... So If a person is born deaf and blind... does that person have no thoughts? This first occurred to me when I saw Black. That was one scary performance...

So perhaps there is a language that we were all born with and forgot all about somewhere along the way?