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Archive for the ‘Difference’ Category

My Year in People-College Edition

Here I am, nearly at the fag end of the year, looking at the same old things happening in the same old way. Same old mess in my room, and same old dog taking up three quarters of my bed, leaving no space for me to even stretch a little (that is saying a lot, considering I’m incredibly tiny). Some things simply become a part of your life without you even letting you know. Every year, something or the other keeps getting added and subtracted to this very list.

Like every other year, at this time, I have plans to sit back and scrounge around for a celebration, snigger at anyone who plans to drastically ‘turn over a new leaf’ (secretly wishing to do so myself- a massive hypocrisy, yes), and have my moments of deep contemplation and thoughts in the shower, about how my life turned out in this past year. A part of the very same is this post.

I’ve had my fair share of ups and downs this year- a pleasant mix of both really. And a large fragment of the ups are the contribution of some of the most amazing people I have known (or known better, somehow) in college, this year. This is to them, ’cause if it weren’t for them I’d be at psychotherapy right now instead of typing my thoughts away.


What does a manic, sleep-deprived (borderline insomniac) almost workaholic woman with an inappropriate (sometimes downright offensive) sense of humour need to maintain sanity in life? My best bet? A manic, sleep-deprived (borderline insomniac) almost workaholic man with an inappropriate (sometimes downright offensive) sense of humour, and that’s AS for you.

He may as well be the devil’s advocate, the child who is usually the bearer of the ‘bad influence’ every traditional Indian parent warns their soon-to-be-rebellious teenage kid against. But somewhere deep down, we are so freakishly similar, that it is like meeting the same person in another gender. Of course, a lot bigger and with a less shrill voice.

He’s been my punching bag, my 4am friend (well, literally so), my shopping buddy, and so much more. If its a food craving I have to satiate (and absolutely need to for survival) or submit a set of collated paraphrased internet articles in the name of research under a stipulated time, he has it all covered.

So, AS, if you’re reading this, I’m just so thankful for having you in my life. And though I wouldn’t possibly ever say it in a non-platonic way but, I absolutely love you. Thanks for being there, beside me like a rock, whenever I needed you. Yes, the huge frame has been enough to withstand a lot of troubles from coming my way.
And well you made me sing again, you get so many brownie points for just that. 🙂

A thing about me now, I have never ever, and I’m not sure if I ever will ever cry in a movie (that’s so many evers and nevers). It’s true. I’m stone-hearted. Almost to the point of depressing myself. But again, not enough to make me cry. Which brings me to SB- my depressing movie straight face motivator- the reason why I can sit through sad movies without making a single inappropriate comment because observing her little ‘vulnerable’ moments and thereafter making jokes about it is just so much more fun. 🙂

So, jokes apart now. I absolutely adore her, and I wish there was a better way to express how much AS and SB mean to me.
There is a fire within her and I see it time and again. When we needed a voice of reason when we work or even when she did a silly TV sketch for me, I saw it at work. I know I have full faith in her, and no matter how nonchalant she tries to be, I know that she cares.

She is steady as a rock, and even if she may be going through an internal turmoil, I know that she is the go-to person for a good-old-funny-as-hell gossip session or a random funny comment on the most unprepared of people (trust me, they all really do need it).

I deeply admire you, SB, and I want you to know that, even though you may get teary at the slightest of things (really soppy Bollywood melodrama included), but there is a strength in you, that I would someday hope to have. And if you get even the slightest bit teary eyed (or even lumpy) reading this, I’m going to punch you in the face. 🙂

There is always this one thing in life that is a constant reminder of how far you’ve come and how you’ve grown through the biggest years of your life. This for me has been M. My sole remnant of how I lived through a difficult and yet, life changing time in my life. In this year, I have known her even more closely than I did before. And now, I firmly believe that there is always a purpose for someone to become a part of your life.

M has been a mirror on my life. I know that no matter how much we laugh about or make fun of each other, some of my most memorable unplanned enjoyable times have been with her. Be it a random lingerie shopping date, a survival escape from a fatally boring class or even a random 2-person sleepover, she makes it all even better.

M, I’m glad I got to know you so much more this year. You’ve taught me, that sometimes in life, it’s better to strengthen the old bonds, than trade them for new ones. And even if someday, for some reason, one has to start paying for air in their car tyre, you will still be as special to me as you have always been. 🙂

Now there is someone, who was one of the primary reasons for this post. My year in discovering people, would have DN at the top of the list. Of course everyone knows her as someone without whom our class’s metaphorical building blocks would metaphorically collapse. But then there is so much more than this responsible, caring, mother-figure-like adult (probably the closest to the definition of adult), than what everyone knows.

She knows how to get the party started when at a wedding or anywhere when inebriated. And when inebriated at a wedding, there’s no stopping her. She is two extremes put together, and is probably the closest combination to human perfection that I know of in my generation.

There is so much more I still have to learn from her. Like no matter how much one may be burdened or internally stressed, one has the option to either throw it around and wear it with resentment or, embrace the weight and make a stepping stone out of it. DN is the second kind.

DN, you’ve been a revelation to me this year. And well, you’re simply such a beautiful soul. And no matter where you are and what you do, I want to be a part of the day you finally take a plunge and break your hostel rules and rub it in your warden’s face. 🙂

My year was eventful and full of so many people that came and stayed to make it worthwhile. AB, for instance, is now my best dance partner and we have so much chemistry, that with enough practice we can totally be small-time reality TV stars. AB, you’re just so much packed in one, I can gladly place my money on you when I say that you will be one of the most successful ones to come out of this whirlwind of a college life that we have. You’re also the prettiest cross-dresser, and as much as you enjoyed doing my show, I still cannot re-iterate enough how grateful I am for you doing it for me. 🙂

One of the nicest and most helpful people I know, DDR. I have come to discover him as someone who would gladly do all in his might if you need him. You’re simply amazing and well, I cannot stress enough on how much I admire the shady badass you can be when you twist your fingers to get stuff done. 🙂

PS and MC, you guys have a very special little place in my heart. This year, you guys have showed me, that it isn’t the physical closeness that makes friendship special and it is the little things that count (well almost literally, because we are after all little people 😛 ).

AP and RS, my troll buddies and my closest bros. My year would be so very uneventful and dull without you.
AAD, NA, and KM, you guys made our first few work project so much more fun. Thanks for keeping me sane and well, stripping me off of all sanity at other times. 😛
ARS and MT, straight off, you guys made me model. The one thing I could possibly never imagine myself doing. Ever. 😛
NS, you’re like my ally, and one of the most fun people I have ever had a work-night–cum–bitching session with. 😛
US, that insanity ridden Jaipur trip would’ve definitely been incomplete without you (that stuffed dog toy too? 😛 ). 🙂
RA, AV and SK… I can probably not complete a sentence without mentioning the three of you together in one breath and I loved that I discovered more about you guys this year.


So this is to all of you and everyone who made my year in college worthwhile. I probably won’t be welcoming the new year with either of you, but you are special enough for me to be a part of my year-end introspection. My year was a metaphoric roller-coaster ride and I know that if it weren’t for all of you, I would’ve metaphorically thrown up and would’ve been left dizzy at the end.

Thank you all for being a part of my year and my life, and I wish you the best for years to come. 🙂

AK 🙂


What is your feedback on the Gender of these?

I am doing a thesis on toy ads and how toys are marketed reinforce gender stereotyping. Once it is done I’d make a post on all my findings but for now I would love some help from as many people as can be.
This is one aspect of the dissertation where a similar product uses different marketing styles for each of its target audience.
I would love if I could get your feedback on this aspect of my research.
Here are two ads of a product known as ‘Moon Sand’ which is a form of mold-able play sand (or clay) for kids to play with. Essentially the same product, both ads have been styled differently according to the target audience. Take a look:
1) Moon Sand Ocean Princess Commercial (click image to watch video on YouTube):
Moon Sand™ is the amazing moldable, holdable, decoratable sand the never dries out!
Now you can create and explore your very own undersea world complete with amazing sea life creations and beautiful mermaid princess!
Use the glitter sand to mold Moon Sand™ sea horses, dolphins, and undersea friends for your Mermaid Princess to go on undersea adventures with!
2) Moon Sand Construction Commercial (click image to watch video on YouTube):
Moon Sand™ is the amazing moldable, squish-able, build-able, demolish-able sand the never dries out!
The new Moon Sand™ Construction Sets each come with a rough and tumble construction worker, who’s built tough and ready for work!
Load your construction worker into the backhoe- then dig and demolish EVERYWHERE!
1) What did you think about these videos?
2) Did you see any difference in the way the product is marketed to its respective target audience (boys and girls), and if yes do you think it is necessary?
3) To what extent do you think this can be a factor that leads to gender stereotyping in children?
4) Do you think such a gendered preference in marketing style (and eventually children’s toy selection) is natural or does the media (and other factors) create it?
5) Any comments at all on the ads, you are free to mention.

Opened and Dissected Letter to a fellow Indian

It is sad that it took a bitter and badly written post to revive a blog which was in coma for a while. But I guess sometimes you need the right kind of emotion to bring you back from hiding. This is in response to this post. It has created frenzy all over the blogo-sphere. And well read it here if you haven’t already. And here are my responses are in red.

Dear Delhi boy,

Namaskaram from the South of India, or as you may like to believe, the countries south of the Vindhyas.

-Dear South Indian girl (since Ghetto-ising isn’t really my style, I shall refrain from calling you Madrasan),

Good evening from… well, an Indian. I usually am against being racist, because frankly I’m left with very few options, after being a part of so many cultures, and belonging to so many places having an army dad. And just to make things straight, I am part Punjabi, the rest of me I shall get to later.

I came to your city 2 years ago with a brand new job and a bucketload of expectations. My friends and family here thought I was completely insane to choose Delhi over more female conducive cities like Bangalore or even Bombay. I am very sad to report that your reputation of being an ignorant, chauvinistic oaf with the intelligence levels of an autistic 3 year old on crack precedes you and it hurts me even more to admit to this rather accurate description.

-First of all, I’m sorry about the fact that despite your desperate attempts to make Delhi-ites hate your kind, I still love South Indians. Some of my closest friends are South Indian, and even after reading your post, I still wouldn’t ‘generalise’ and look at them with suspicion, despite you completely reinforcing the unjustified stereotype against your kind. I’m sorry to report that I still haven’t lost faith in your kind despite this statement being exaggerated and downright derogatory to children with special needs.

Your reputation has travelled far and wide, to countries outside South India as well. And believe me man, it is not a pretty situation. I understand that your stone faded, ripped jeans, your V-neck cleavage showing t-shirts that reveal to the world that you have infact inherited your mother’s voluptuous shaved Punjabi bosom, are what you think maketh a man, but it does not. It only maketh for a man who gets a pity license to share his girlfriend’s bra. I write to you as a woman who has been brought up in a society free of any discrimination towards women so thanks to you, my living in Delhi is as safe as Hugh Hefner’s playmate of the year living in Jeddah.

-I understand how you feel. It is but natural that an age-old Indian fetish for breasts surfaces now and then. Quoting most psychology texts, the things we notice most in the opposite sex are the ones deficient in us. It happens. I don’t blame you at all. As for your society honey, at least I have the freedom of wearing shorts to college without being judged.

You meet me at a friend’s birthday, talk to me about nightclubs and your new SUV and when I look like I’m in desperate need of a barf bag, you think I have an attitude problem. I understand this completely. But let me remind you that I am from SOUTH INDIA and not SOUTH DELHI, so no ,I am not scrawny, I am not fair, I don’t have straight hair and my topics of conversation go beyond the Fendi I saw in last month’s Vogue.

-So Miss Southie, at least women here are allowed to nightclubs and not shoved out of them by some moral brigade trying to supposedly ‘save our culture’. Women in fact are welcomed into nightclubs with no cover charge. I do like Fendi, Gucci, or even flee market apparel, and at least I have the freedom to openly lust for them without being judged.

I am olive-skinned, have lower –back-length lustrous cascading tresses that sometimes make me look like I fell out Jim Morrison’s tour bus. Got a problem with that? Well just suck it up coz I was born into a society where a woman can whoop your Punjabi patoutie to pulp.

-So you want to be accepted for your self-degrading description of what I would have otherwise called beautiful, but cannot accept a man with a single physical flaw. Do I see hypocrisy here?

While your mother pretends to be very progressive but still cows down to the whims of her husband every single time, mine on the other hand was born into a matriarchal home where every single possession is in the rightful name of the girl child. Could you ever, my hunky handsome, cash throwing pig, imagine this kind of power in your society? So stop telling me that women are not treated like trash where you come from. Just shut up and admit to it. It’s just easier that way. And lest we forget that we’ve managed to curtail the number of rape cases despite not having a female Chief Minister. Amma ‘s body composition generates way too much heat for her get out of her AC room anyway, so don’t even bring that up.

-Congratulations for being born where you have, but I’m still not going to stoop down to your level and generalize. Both my parents are emancipated to the core. More than your society could ever imagine being. Despite my mother earning more than my dad I still live in peace and harmony and have the freedom to have a boyfriend (and for that matter even girlfriend) from anywhere in the world and openly discuss about him at the dining table.

And your English. Good Lord, what in the world is up with that? I don’t want you to ‘explain me’ anything. It’s like you need to go to primary school all over again. And call them your parents, not your ‘peerents’ or what your cooler, more happening brethren call them—‘mere mom-dad’. Like what are they? Conjoined twins? Are they joined at the hip?

-So how old are you? 5? Anyone can call their parents whatever they like till the time they’re given due respect, you have absolutely no right to point fingers at people’s existence being from an incestuous wedlock.

Your South India counterparts may not have your looks, but are way more mentally stimulating, a quality that eludes you obviously, but has been the single most sexy factor for us Southie chicks since the age of five.

-Why do you seem so apologetic about the looks you possess? Because what looks like a desperate attempt at being a ‘dark and proud people’, you come across as someone with a deeply embedded inferiority complex. Seriously, be proud of the way you are. And I mean genuinely.

I mean once again, who can blame you? You were brought up on Gurdas Mann and the heroic deeds of Devinder Singh Bhullar and the ever so fair concepts such as elections in Phugwada while we mere ‘black-colour waale’ mortals had to make do with Bharatnatyam classes, M.S Subhalakshmi and chess. Shame no?

-Just because Bharatnatyam started somewhere near where you live does not mean you’re the only ones who possess it, North India is flooded with people and institutes which teach Bharatnatyam. To top that we even have a wide variety of other dance forms to choose from. We have Kathak, Jazz, Ballet, Hip-Hop, and so on, and of course Bhangra and Gidda, which mind you need so much energy, you’d need to be the human version of the Duracell bunny to give a 10 minute performance in them. And as for chess… we just choose to lie low and channelize our energies into lesser sports like… well hello? Those are sports nonetheless, it doesn’t matter!

And yes, if by a slight chance, you do find my big dancer eyes attractive enough for you to prolong our conversations and meetings and if by an even slighter chance you fall in love with me and decide to marry me, you will have to wear a mundu and you will have to lie prostrate shirtless at the Guruvayurappan temple.

-You are a tad confused lady. Despite this whole supposedly witty and totally-not-exaggerated rant about the men of my kind, you still have hopes of marrying them? If any of the Delhi men do want to marry you, they would gladly bare it all and wear a mundu if needed.

A small price to pay for all the genuine independence I am giving up for you. And that’s the real thing, not what you see the Delhi girls at LSR and Stephen’s doing during their fake as hell protest marches coz ultimately they’re going home to a family who’re putting together money for Bobby beta’s bail coz he just ran over his girlfriend’s ex, by mistake of course.

-Woah! This is where I get vicious honey. I cannot help it if you were too busy trying your ass off to get into IIT and in the bargain did not get in and with the marks you obtained in an attempt to focus more on entrances you didn’t get accepted in some of the MOST prestigious colleges in the country where most people would give up a limb to get into. ‘Sour grapes’ is the best way I can describe this. At least the Delhi girls from LSR handle a break-up in a more dignified way than this. Oh and if not IIT you could probably try nursing school you’d blend right in (Yeah, how’s that for a stereotype? That’s how it feels).

I understand that I come from the land of ugly. I mean obviously Hema Malini, Sri Devi and Aishwarya Rai with their natural banal looks don’t even hold a candle to Priyanka Chopra after her two nose jobs and one lip reconstruction surgery. Not a chance in hell.

-Natural looks? I really pity your ignorance sweety but from a girl who is supposedly proud of her ‘South-Indian dark complexion’ it’s strange that every actress you have mentioned here is fairer than the other, not to mention the amount of tweaks and corrections their own faces have gone through. NO ONE, and I mean no one can ever look the way they do at their age without any correction at all.

But when you do come to ask for my hand, remember I am part Maharashtrian and part South Indian and NO, they are not the same thing. So please tell your family, not to drop racist bombs like “Arey woh sab toh ‘Sawth’ ke hi hote hai na?” And YOU—don’t walk up to mother in an attempt to make flattering conversation and say shit like “Aunty you don’t look like a South Indian You are so fair” In return she will verbally Texas chainsaw massacre your face so badly, your dead Dadi will haunt you the very same night, telling you how fleeing Pakistan was less traumatic. So don’t. Better still just don’t speak. Just glean and flex your muscles a little and keep smiling. Just whatever you do, don’t talk.

-Wow! You know if you just wanted to get married to a guy from Delhi so desperately, why didn’t you just say so instead of dropping subtle hints in a post where you’re simply trying to play hard to get? You could just talk to your family you know, they might just understand that you want to be with someone NON-South Indian. And of course since you invested so much of your precious time trying to crack IIT, I don’t blame you for lacking basic language skills, but let me tell you honey, there is a difference between being witty and being plain rude. Trivialising the trauma faced by people during partition is simply offensive and taking this too far. So yeah I guess it’s just better that you are not spoken to, because you’re simply not worth it.

You may not like our food, but then we don’t like you, which is worse. We may not be even that into food, but then that’s coz we have other things to do with our lives, like crack IIT or become writers, journalists, activists and do things that we are very passionate about. The South Indian woman has a voice and boy can she yell. So if you want to Sambhar ‘Chawl’ your way into my life, then you got to toe the line. Be way more aware than what your are.

-For your hatred towards food, I’d say, try spicing things up a little bit. And some sweet should do you good. At least it’ll make you a little less bitter. At least we could hope so. And as for South Indian food, there might just be more South Indian restaurants in Delhi than any other part of the country and they’re mostly located in the Punjabi dominated areas of Delhi because Punjabis love nothing more than a family of ten and some Rawa Masala Dosas.

Remember Delhi is not a country and we are not Black. If I ever hear you utter that name of that colour, I will Kalaripayattu your tongue out of your rear. Yes , that is the secret behind our awesome sex ratio. Just so you know.

-Yes Delhi isn’t a country. But it sure is more inclusive than any other part of the country and yeah, Delhi is NOT in Punjab. Please get your facts right or else it won’t be long before someone from the operation blue star lineage performs a Gatka on you (And again, that’s exactly how it feels).

For someone who is so confident of his physical abilities you really suck at luring an intelligent woman. Don’t send me text messages that say ‘happy guru purab’, you freakshow and if you want to be cute with your ever so charming (not) Punjabi advances, then don’t send texts that say “Dil laye gayee kudi Madrraaas di”! NO. It’s just not cool man.

-And again sweety, there is a difference between being witty and being plain racist. Is it that you have a problem with all occasions where normal human beings get a reason to feel happy or is this just a special case? And who are you to define what’s cool? I’m not even going to comment on that, ‘cause you’re just not worth it.

I may have have missed on a lot in this letter, but that’s ok because you’ll forget to read it and even if you do , you’ll get your cousin Jassi from Defence Callonny to translate it for you. And this letter can’t go on forever like the Punjabi male ego.

-It’s funny how you talk about ego when all you’ve done in this letter is tried way too hard to nurse your badly hurt ego.

So long my love, and here’s two steps of gidda just for you, just to show that I can be traditional and will not accidently kick your sister while doing so.
Love, hugs, kisses aka ‘muah’ (only I shall ‘muah’, you please don’t do anything coz you tend to forget that these are my lips and not a piece of Tandoori Chicken from Kakke- Da- Dhabba)

-As for the ‘muah’… do try some passionate kissing sometime. It’ll soften you up and lessen the frustration.

(Only I can call myself that. If you EVER call me by this name, I will shove so many coconuts down your system that your little saver pack versions will begin to sprout coir.)

Yours truly,

Cosmopolitan Indian citizen studying at LSR

PS: And well about the other part of my identity? The other part of me is from the ‘North East’. And we get discriminated against more than you can ever think or dream of. But we’ve risen above all the petty arguments and learnt to celebrate differences. Because at the end of the day we’re all Indian, and it does not matter where we’re geographically located within the country.

I may have toed the line here and there, but trust me, I meant no offence to anyone other than you (the writer of the post) here. Frankly if in your place a Punjabi had written similar bitter words for a South Indian, it would’ve got me equally fired up.

Stereotyping and profiling can be fun to an extent, if taken in good humour, and yeah they’re a part of life. But with all the corn and cheese aside, every Khan is not a terrorist, every South Indian is not Madrasi, every Punjabi is not Sardar (every Delhi-ite is definitely not Punjabi)… oh the list is endless.

Please learn to take a setback in life in good spirit and stop blaming an entire geographical area for what you may have been through. The last person who did that had all his (Nazi) glory in his time, but no one sees him in good light today.


















Effects of Western Culture on Indian Youth? And so the ‘Youth’ Speaks…

I recently read this article on an online newspaper. It was about the ‘Effects of Western Culture on Indian Youth’.

It got me all worked up and somewhat resentful, about the fact that a youth himself had written this. You can read it here and see for yourself. A very narrow minded approach, I must say. Here’s the article. And here’s what I have to say about it. My responses in red.

CHEERS”, and the party starts. With booze, fags and skimpily dressed girls who move their bodies to be the cynosure and to attract males.

~You sound like one of those people who’d prefer if a woman is jailed in a burqa.

Come to think of it, then even a sari should be known as a non-conservative clothing, since the midriff, arms, back and neck of a woman are shown while wearing it.

And if women moving their bodies is so sexually provocative to you, let me tell you that ‘Bharatnatyam’ has evolved from a sexual dance form itself. The Mudras in it are actually sanitized versions of sex-positions.

Moreover, in the early Mughal era, as well as the vedic period in Krishna’s kingdom, women dressed up in just a piece of cloth and nothing except that, not even a bra! And when the western civilisation did come to India, women started dressing more modestly. So yeah, by dressing skimpily, we’re actually going back to our roots, and shunning western influence.

Everyone is wearing branded clothes, imported watches, designer accessories and what not. These things have become the necessities of the Indian youth and even the older generations.

~Maybe you should go back to the prehistoric era, where early man wore clothes simply by killing animals and acquiring their hides or just didn’t bother to wear clothes at all. Probably you’d fit there much better.

A father-son duo sitting together and enjoying their drinks, women going to pubs and discos and getting involved in obscene acts and girls taking their boyfriends to their homes to have a jolly time with parents and otherwise too.

~Well, half the suicides in the country were happening due to parental pressure and parents not understanding their children. How can you even call this a flaw? The fact that parents are more understanding and empathetic towards their children is half the battle won. The only way India can progress is by the youth doing what they desire most to do. And in this case, if their parents are broadminded enough to let them have their way, who are you to have a problem with that?

What can one infer after reading the above lines? I guess, the first answer would be that India is changing over the course of time.

India, as the name flickers, one thinks of religion, traditions, art and culture and it’s apt to think so because India is the country which is famous for its diversity in these aspects.

~True, you do think of those things, but if that is ALL you can think about when you think of India, then you have serious issues. And then you talk of diversity, ironic isn’t it? Maybe you should get some language training first and then think about writing at all.

The land where the great Raja Ram Mohan, Tagore, Gandhi transformed the thinking of people and removed the social stigmas like sati pratha (the practice of widows being forced to sit on the pior of their husbands), untouchability and many more.

~Maybe I should give you a little respect. Because if you can write stuff like this, and these are the only people you can think of as the do-gooders of the country then you OBVIOUSLY don’t belong to the youth (at least not in this century).

And the same Raja Ram Mohan who emancipated women, travelled the world with a Brahman cook.

India was known as “Sone Ki Chidiya” (The Golden Bird) but the shine has faded away gradually with the change in I, YOU and WE. Indian society has evolved into a mixed breed of Western and Indian culture. People are becoming too much casual in both their personal and professional lives, how a “Good Morning Madam” has now become “Hi Diksha”, how a “Namaste Daadu” has become “Hey Grandpa”, courtesy the western culture. The western culture has proved to be a setback for Indian culture, its rituals, its traditions and mannerism.

~First of all, grammatical error. It’s ‘much too casual’ and not ‘too much casual’.

And ‘Good Morning Madam’ is ENTIRELY a western statement. And thus, you’re contradicting yourself, because if you find this gesture polite and becoming, the conception of the statement is due to the very western influence you are criticizing.

And again, what problem do you have if this Grandpa is emotionally secure enough to be friends with his grandchild?

The Western culture may have been a setback for a few things, but definitely not its rituals, traditions and mannerism. I myself am well-versed with the Mahabharata, Ramayana, The Bhagwad Gita, The Koran, etc. and I know almost all the history there is where our country is concerned. I am the best of friends with my mom and dad, and I share EVERYTHING with them, but I still hold an immense amount of respect for them as well.

The Indian morning which used to begin with bhajans and kirtans now begins with the rock of Metallica and the punk of Greenday.

~Now seriously, which retard listens to Metallica or Greenday as soon as they wake up? Moreover, is there anybody (in their ‘youth’) who ever woke up to listen to Bhajans or Kirtans EVERY morning? Let alone the youth of today, I don’t think this even happened in the yesteryears.

The age of losing virginity has gone down to teens — following the western culture, these days it has become a casual and usual trend to lose virginity as teenagers.

~So, you’d rather have a girl of age 5, who’s been wedded under one of the flawed traditions we did away with, lose her virginity unwillingly, than have a girl of age 18 lose her virginity willingly. The age of consent has been LEGALLY accepted as 16 years, without Western influence, mind you.

The way in which Hollywood movies have created an impact on our society is blaspheme. The Indian movies are now more vulgar and obscene as they try to imitate the western trends and it is one of the major reasons that India’s youth is changing.

~Hollywood movies have always been this way. It is due to the brainlessness of some Indian filmmakers that they can’t come up with an original plot. And then they start blaming Hollywood for influencing them in such a way that they end up becoming vulgar.

But the coin has its other side too.

The effect of western culture has been a boon in the field of education and technology. From the time of the British, Indians inclined themselves towards education for betterment of their lives. The education system has improved with the course of time and this was all because of the western culture.

~Loud and clear now, one of the reasons why this Western culture has improved the field of education is due to the fact that it has also taught parents to be more understanding towards their children (which you apparently have a problem with) and let them do what they want to and hence let them excel in it, without driving them towards killing themselves.

The way in which the homosexual community has been accepted in most parts of India, is a result of western culture coming to India. The western culture has given us the liberty to think beyond the somewhat prejudiced culture towards certain aspects of our society.

~The Western culture HAS definitely given us the ability think out of the box. But the very fact that you make a statement like the ‘liberty’ to ‘think’ make it clear that these things are completely lacking in you. Like, Hello? You don’t need any ‘liberty’ to think at all. Thinking is a basic human trait, which people like you, obviously wouldn’t know about. This entire write-up is an example of that.

Plus, the very fact that you’ve bracketed homosexuality into a ‘homosexual community’ goes to show how narrow-minded you are. They are individuals and completely normal beings and have the utmost right to live without being bracketed into being called different such as you did by stating that they’re the ‘homosexual community’.

India’s culture has influenced many countries, many people and many souls, a foreigner dancing to the melodious and religious bhajanhare Rama, hare Krishna” and a foreigner coming to India in a boeing and carrying with him memories of a rickshaw wala and then missing them in their homeland.

The western culture might have brought obscenity and disrespect but it has eradicated a lot of the social evils and has helped India in transforming into a better and progressed nation.

~Foreigners also have taken with them the ‘Kamasutra’, something that is an inevitable part of the Indian cultural heritage. And which foreigner do you know of who missed a rickshaw wala in their homeland? Plus the ‘ISCKON’ or the ‘Hare Rama Hare Krishna’ foundation, which was a conception of Srila Prabhupada was set up by an American.

A word of advice, please get your facts clear before keying them down and getting them published.

I guess the reason this bothered me so much is because this was written by someone who’s almost the same age as I am. I really can’t understand why he has a problem with certain things we all have embraced with open arms as a welcome change.

College Myths Busted

A lot of us have seen those numerous films and television shows which give the rosiest picture about college life. But for all those who believe, that life is all fun and games once you come into college, sorry to burst your bubble, and let me tell you that it’s not.Thanks to all the crap I grew up watching, half my school life I thought that when I go to college, whenever I fight with my best friend, it’ll be the talk of town; someday there’ll be a gang war just for me; or at least that there’ll be a coordinated dance sequence and song for every changing emotion of mine. Sadly, none of this ever happened.

Here are some of the popular myths about college and the reality:


Myth 1: College life is all song and dance. There is a NO studying to do and nothing to worry about.

Busted: There is a LOT to worry about; exams, attendance, results, assignments, attendance, schedules, classes, ATTENDANCE.. etc..


Myth 2: Bunking classes never results in consequences

Busted: If you keep bunking classes and get carried away, you CAN be thrown out!


Myth 3: If you keep failing in college you’re a stud.

Busted: If you keep failing in college you WILL be thrown out!


Myth 4: There are hoards of guys standing outside girls’ colleges to ‘bird-watch’.

Busted: Whoever stated this nonsense, can you please tell me where all these guys are? I myself am dying to see this happen.


Myth 5: College fests are in fact extended parties and excuses to flirt around. (and a song follows)

Busted: They are NOT.


Myth 6: People come to college ONLY to find a boyfriend/girlfriend.

Busted: Then what are dating sites for???


Myth 7: All teachers (especially the principal) are maniacs. Plus at the most there are just about two teachers- a good one (read: hot one) and a bad one (read: old one).

Busted: Teachers in fact are sometimes more sane than students. And there are more than 100 teachers in even the smallest colleges.


Myth 8: Gang wars!

Busted: Hell no!


Myth 9: The hot Chemistry teacher.

Busted: Chemistry is not even an isolated subject in college!


Myth 10: People spend hours to decide what to wear and to dress up before college, and end up looking like a decked up Christmas tree every single day.

Busted: Well, lets just say that does not happen. And if you are one of those who does it and is reading this, then it’s high time you get a life.


And as for Mr. Creator of films on college, Mr. Creator of the utterly nonsensical college and school dramas, and all the likes, for once please put some reality into what you make.

Auto Diaries (Part II)-Don’t judge a book by its cover.

This one’s not about travelling in the auto. Not even about the auto itself. But just about the universal fact, ‘don’t judge a book by its cover’ reinforced.

My friend V and I were travelling in my car to The American Centre near CP. As, we both are condemned to be forever ‘directionally-challenged’ we had no clue where to go when we were half way through, floating around the road to Janpath (Geography may not have been one of our best for the both of us in school). A lost and confused bunch that we were (Me, V and the driver), we were asking for directions helter-skelter. None of which, really helped as such.

It finally took us ten minutes to find a helpful auto-driver by the road, who looked like he could make sense of our whereabouts to us. At once I made the driver stop, and rolled down my window. I made a gesture as if I were calling out to him, and said, “Bhaia, American centre kaise jaana hai?” (How do we get to American Centre?). The auto driver stepped out of the auto, and came up to our car.

After he reached the co-driver seat window, he said, “Would you like to go in my Rickshaw, or do you need directions?” (mind you, he said all this in pure, grammatically correct English with perfect diction!!). This was one of those times me and V felt our  jaw drop spontaneously. There was a pause for a few seconds before I mentally shook myself after what I had just heard. And finally when I did get out of the miniature trance, I meekly said, “Can we please have just the directions?”

At once he promptly replied, “Now see, you have to go straight till you spot the first signal, and then from there…” when I interrupted (still in the lingering state of miniature trance), and pointing towards my driver, I said, “Umm.. Can you please explain it to him in Hindi?”.

It took me some time to carry out that interruption as well. Me and V were still giving each other the dumbfounded looks, with the embarrassed smile.

He finished explaining to my driver and I finally, truly and wholeheartedly, said thank you and smiled till it reached my ear. To which, I received a spontaneous, “My pleasure!” from him.

As we drove passed, V and I couldn’t avoid thinking about it. We still couldn’t believe what had just hit us. It’s amazing how we’re so quick to judge and place people in these little brackets known as ‘stereotypes’. Thinking about it further, if it weren’t for that little monster known as stereotype, the auto driver talking in English would have just been, though uncommon, but such a normal thing, and instead of getting temporary mental paralysis, we would’ve acted like civilized human beings and been normal. Because of the mental picture we had in mind about them, we could never imagine it even being an actuality.

This day today taught me, (and very well at that) that under absolutely no circumstances, should we ever judge a book by its covers. And we, as petty human beings have no right whatsoever to put others into brackets that ‘society’ apparently laid out for them.

Happy Teacher’s day to Everyone (and not just Teachers).

Since today is teacher’s day I’d like to dedicate this to the people in my life (all of them, not necessarily teachers) who have taught me (some even unknowingly) things which I can never forget. So here goes. Following no particular order of importance:
~Ms. V in kindergarten, who taught me how to tie my shoelaces.
~The sweetheart K, who taught me how to look confident and aware in an interview.
~One of my drivers, who taught me how to patiently release the clutch on first gear.
~Mrs. A in school, who taught me how to correctly pronounce ‘develop’, and the right places to put commas.
~My dad’s helper, who taught me how to hammer a nail into the wall.
~Another helper who taught me how to screw a light bulb.
~K’s mom, who taught me how to how to carry off high heels.
~My six year old cousin, M, who taught me how not to have any qualms about speaking your mind and dancing like no one’s watching you.
~My four year old cousin, D, who’s alergic to sugar, who taught me to be happy with the things you have and not mope about your misfortunes.
~Ms. J in school, who taught me to tell the truth and how to catch a liar.
~My best friend A, who taught me that even some of my, otherwise meaningless, theories make sense. And also, how to appreciate the occult and the unknown.
~K again, who taught me how to keep an upright posture and eat healthy.
~My aunt G, who taught me how to bargain and haggle till the shopkeeper gives in.
~My aunt G again, who taught me how to be simple and yet be powerful and very successful.
~My friend, D, who taught me how to type an SMS.
~My best friend A in college, who taught me how to be street-smart, be mean to people who deserve it, and how to use library cards.
~My best friend V in college, who taught me how to ride a bus and public transport in general.
~My dad’s friend’s son, who has cancer, and mom’s friend who was paralized torso-down, who taught me how to live life to the fullest and enjoy every moment.
~My cousin T, who taught me the basics of Buddhism as a way of life.
~My friend M, who taught me the basics of baking.
~My aunt M, who taught me how to come up with the wittiest comebacks.
~My bestest friend, T, who passed away last month, who taught me to be strong and brave and cherish every memory.
~My bestest friend T, again, who taught me how to be optimistic, to be nice to everyone alike and how to start a blog.
~My friend AA, in school, who taught me how to be sarcastic.
~My friend S, in school, who taught me how to vent out my frustrations in the right directions and be the perfect agony aunt.
~My dog, B, who taught me how to love unconditionally and not have an ego.
~My friend AB, in school, who taught me how not to be a fashion victim and create your own style statement.
~My college friend P, who taught me how to be efficient in work and stick to deadlines. To be a patient person and tolerate people even when they get really difficult, and just to be a friend in need.
~Ms. C, in college, who taught me how to be aware and proffessionally competent.
~Ms. S, in school, who gave me my first lessons in feminism.
~Ms. A, in College, who took the feminism lesson to another level.
~My friend D, who taught me how to wear lenses.
~T’s mom, who just lost her daughter, who taught me how to be positive in life and be so very brave.
And last, but definitely not the least;
~Both my mom and dad, who have and will continue to teach me things in life, right from walking and talking, to greeting elders, to wearing a sari, to doing push-ups, to folding clothes, and so many more countless things… the list is endless and I’ll never find enough space to write all of it.
A big thank you to all of you for playing an essential role in my life… 🙂
So, if you want to thank those special people who have inadvertently taught you something in life, I think today is the perfect day to do so. 🙂