Immorally Correct!

At a time when the elderly are beginning to wake up, decent young ones are fast asleep and indecent ones like me are busy watching american tv series (this Orange is the New Black is engrossing; I mean what more do you want, lots of hot girls locked away together in a prison with just a couple of obnoxious men to trouble the screen space); me I am busy munching on some snacks my mother so lovingly leaves on my table even before I reach home on a vacation and then I make the cardinal mistake of watching news and listen to Lennon sing about unity and peace thereafter.

I mean that guy was seriously out of his mind, he sang about no religion, about peace. Can you imagine the bloody guts on him? He did visit India didn't he? Even then! He should have known that we have to preserve our culture at all costs. A culture that has for years worshipped women as goddesses with great fervor at pandals and then has burnt them because the father of their daughter-in-law/wife was not grateful enough to pay dowry for accepting his daughter (I wonder though with the messed up sex ratio till when will this continue, call it poetic justice if you will!). These modern city girls are the worst, they wear skirts and short pants (hot pants I believe is the right word) and then they visit pubs and lounges and invite men to rape them. How dare they? Don't they know that this countrys' eminent politicians who are also the custodians of our morals by the way, allow our macho boys to make some mistakes in their 'ladakpan'. And then to make matter worse they even use smartphones, just to think of their audacity! Don't they know that playing candy crush too is illicit immoral behaviour which might force unwilling men to rape them. Utter disregard for our culture and history, huh!. I mean otherwise we men are very well behaved but the moment we see a smartphone and a jeans/skirt/pants/anything other than saree, kurta, burqa; we feel its our moral duty to teach these girls a lesson they won't forget.

A gentleman from Karnataka (who might have been a part of the current central government but this stupidly immoral social media made the party in power run away from him) was the first to join the clamour asking girls to behave lest they should be punished and he did punish them some years ago, beating women for visting pubs. He was right, of course, visiting pubs and consuming alcohol has culturally been the birthright of men. Aren't men in their machismo culturally supposed to drink and then wreak havoc upon women. Hell we even take time out of killing men of other religion in times of riot to rape women. It is our moral duty to correct these wayward women. Maybe that is why we won't even put legalising prostitution on discussion table so that the unsatisfied libido can get a fix, at a price though. I mean why should we, there are so many women walking alone, take your pick! Don't legalise it right away but have the damn guts to discuss it at least.

I wonder though what dress was that six year old wearing and what smartphone was she carrying before she was raped in her school and in a city like Bangalore no less. Which pub did she go to?

It is okay if our streets are full of lecherous hoodlums and homes full of chauvinistic men but our movies should have fully draped women lest they should invigorate, us testosterone charged lewd men to gawk and rape women. It is okay if school girls are raped in broad daylight but our movies should not offend our so called moral and religious custodians. And the cherry on the cake is that, it is okay to rape women if you are a juvenile. Of course since you were below 18 years of age you did not realise that you were raping her; you thought you were playing 'ghar - ghar'. You can get away with rape if you are less than 18 years of age but you cannot drink alcohol in the capital until you are 25. Incredible India! Whatever satisfies our big bloated moral ego.

It is a country where girls do not prefer the luxury of cabs even if they can afford it, they might as well take more time and cramp in a bus because they are too damn afraid. It is a country where a leading politician can declare that rape is a mistake of 'ladakpan' and should be forgiven thinking it will strenthen the vote bank. Aptly his state leads the crime charts and I am sure he and his son lead the money charts.

I am not a feminist because I hate that crap Shobha De writes. I come across as the eternal cynic, maybe I am. Though I am definitely morally wrong; because I believe if I can wear anything I want so can the opposite sex (don't get ideas I dress quite conservatively), if I am allowed to smoke and drink so are they and if I am allowed to use a bloody smartphone so are they. Whats with the smartphone thing anyway; I am seriously trying to figure out how this connects to crime on women, I simply can't fathom even after watching Arnab Goswami in his full rage lambasting one politician after another. I believe we censor too much, even though our conscience and values are gutted to the core. I am a Hindu with an unfulfilled but an insatiable desire to learn Urdu and since childhood I have loved the mutton cooked on Bakra-eid. I believe in kneeling down at Hazratbal mosque and be mesmerized by its beauty along with the trekking for the blessings of Vaishno Devi , I believe in offering my prayer at Ajmer-Sharif along with visting temples at Pushkar, enjoying the serenity of Churches everywhere and its not just me so do the people around me. I am part of a generation which might visit the pubs more but does not give a shit about the religion and caste of the person across the table and still has faith in God, a generation corrupted by movies and TV Series which might visit the temples/mosques/churches less but their libido is not charged on the call of a religious leader and they do not have an adrenalin rush to kill because the name of the person indicated a different religion. And hence I am not alone when I humm the Lennon song

                      "You may say I'm a dreamer, but I'm not the only one.
                      I hope someday you'll join us and the world will live as one."

Till that day I prefer to be morally wrong or shall I say Immorally Correct!

Dreams do come true....

After I was done crying my heart out over phone telling my sister how stupid was I to say in a leading Paints company's that their GD topic in itself was wrong and then get chucked out, when everyone else like good MBAs were busy quoting Apple and Samsung. My sister lovingly scolded me and said "what would have I said to people that my brother sells paints? I want to tell them that my brother works for HSBC so go and study".

Well after another GD mishap, only this time the entire group was staring at gallows, because we had been so well trained to speak eloquently for two years that no one allowed anyone to speak. I somehow managed to wriggle free. As I was preparing for the battle ahead, I reminisced. Some years ago as most of us were deciding which engineering college we were going to waste our time and Dad's money. One rich friend was going to USA to do exactly the same, only in dollars and he was opening an account in HSBC.For a middle class Patna guy who was used to run down bank buildings with beetle spit artwork adorning walls, chairs which could land even the branch manager on his posterior anytime, that HSBC building was a bliss and I just wondered wouldn't it be nice to be here someday.

Enough romanticising, I was first in line for the interview, checked my tie, need not check my hair. In I went with the stride and energy to conquer the world, out I came sweating profusely in December Delhi winter and I am sure the two-three hairs that I have on my head were standing. After I was done kicking and cursing myself, I treated myself with the combination of nicotine and caffeine for the next eight hours, stomach begged for food, lungs cried for mercy. I kept at it.

Finally they were ready, two names were announced I was not there, my heart sank. In a few microseconds I recalled all bunk classes and all drunken nights, basically I counted my sins and believe me they were many. But then came those two beautiful words my Dad had chosen to be my name. I was numb, ecstatic. Lifted up, thrown down, shirt torn but the most fun was waking up my Mom in the middle of the night to let her know that from now on I would be buying leather purses for her from my own money and they could be a bit expensive.
As goes my favourite quote "Roshni agar manjoor ho khuda ko to aandhiyon me bi chirag jalte hai!!!!"

This is the end Beautiful Friend

As Jim Morrison croons ever so softly in my ears in a way only he can you can't help but be a bit romantic about the days gone by. But sadly even good old Jimmy can't help, let's be honest no one is going to miss those gazillion god forsaken presentations, those extra lectures on weekends, those bloody surprise quizzes (yes they were always a surprise even when the profs were gracious enough to announce in time) and what was that all about, starting exams on Sundays; optimization of resources eh? That cold sweat even in the chilliest of Delhi winter brought about by mere thought of placements, that crappy mess food and those dastardly chain mails, hostel people we day scholars seriously had sympathy and compassion for all your troubles but a separate mail group could have done wonders to our sleep. The worse part every damn professor knew my name and before you even think, I must confess it had nothing to do with my cp or dcp just my hairstyle or the lack of it. What I will miss is that laughter out of nowhere in class; that euphoria after getting placed brought down by some serious kicks in the choicest of places, hanging around Sonu Dhabha who learnt more economics from being in the vicinity of IMI than us; he practically implemented the concept that monopoly allows you to charge insane prices, but he allowed us that night fag so we didn’t complain. Entering the exam room while being confused about which subject's it was let alone the syllabus (believe it or not it has happened), not give a certain four letter word(s) as long as the attendance was marked; that ohh so beautiful parking lot; that's where the party was. And what would we have done without smart phones, without candy crush (yes I did play it unapologetically so). Those open book exams where the “open” books were hardly of any help, you needed to know which topic lies where in the first place and it doesn’t help when the cellophane packing is still on when you are trying to figure that out. Mobiles snatched, I cards kept; this batch has seen it all and done it all (“all” can’t be mentioned here) and not to mention some embarrassing confessions (not for us) on Facebook. Venkatesh Sir’s hilarious jokes just to keep us awake in the second class; I wish I could share some here but as Kathuria Sir would say Chatham house rules prevail. Those clichéd lines by many profs “when we were your age” yes Sir/madam when you were our age you also pulled the same crap we did. Running around pgdm office in the basement hoping somehow that attendance figures would change miraculously and a subgrade would be saved and then that college gossip, no one was spared and if some were, well then they seriously had a pretty non happening college life. So yes as much as I hate to admit it, IMI you will be missed if for nothing then just for the fact that before anyone could get a whiff 2 years had come and gone. Those friendships forged won’t be missed because we will be there in every painting of each other’s lives but the canvas shall cease to be the same. As Mr. Morrison would have said “It hurts to set you free; But you'll never follow me The end of laughter and soft lies; The end of nights we tried to die This is the end; Beautiful friend, the end!” Asta la vista IMI you were a beautiful friend!!!!