Impressions... of soul & silence

Just ROSY !

2012-02-06T15:39:00.002+05:30

I just felt like doingthis, putting my own picture on blog. I laregly don't like these actsof self- proclamation, which are rife on Facebook (apologies if youdisagree, :P) but I guess my blog is more appropiate space for thisthan a social networking site. Ok. So, just a picture is slightlymundane. I shall write something, rather I am willing to sharesomething, how I got my nickname – Rosy. This goes back to January3, 1987 at a Christian hospital in Ambikapur where I was born, now inChhattisgarh. Papa was more than elated that he's got a baby girl anddistributed mithai to the entire ward. There was a milk bottlewith roses and the word ROSY scriptted over it. The two sistersattending Maa told her to name the baby - Rosy. And that's how I'mjust Rosy & hope to be ever.

Take care :)

Become my Poem..!

2012-01-31T16:50:00.000+05:30

The poem of life that reflects through each moment
Words that cry, smile and mostly laugh at me
How hard I try to pen a beautiful poem
How hard I try to fill colour in emotions, feelings for you
You become my poem
I'll be your poet for life
Painting by words, smiling from eyes !!!

You left me !

2012-01-24T14:55:00.002+05:30

This couldn't have got worse

You left me when

I'm still a child

I want your touch, warm and mild

You left me when

I still long for that hug

like I hugged my teddy bears, soft and tight

You left me before

I could be happy and bright

I prayed for your safety day & night

HE tricked me & called you up with HIM

You left me blank with a woman, half dead

You left me to believe the unbelievable that you won't come back

I still wait for miracle to happen

Papa, when you will come & take me away with you in most safe hands !

Unveiling the Goan M.A.S.K (Mannu, Arpi, Swats, Khubbu)

2011-12-13T10:18:00.004+05:30

14, three and one. Well, precisely this is not the number of shots we took during the historic GOA trip, rather it is the number of pukes we three out of four took out. Ahh !! Not really a good thing to start writing a travelogue. I know. Well I will end this vomit talk here only and introduce to the travelers by the number of pukes in descending order. 14 times Khushuboo Joshi, three – Swati Priya - the ‘Paani dosh’ girl, one - the writer that’s me Arpita Sarkar. And the piece remained aloof of all the yuck-shee-thing was Mansi Mishra.

Ok, so no more dirty talks, because Khushboo Joshi has already watched The Dirty Picture and she dint like it! Location – Andheri, Mumbai, time – November, where our lives revolved around the boring, lifeless talks of office where our services (Khushboo, Swati and I) were no longer required in absence of revenue generation, followed by “Aaj kya khana banae”. Yes, we ask this question despite having husbands! But where there is will there is a way, we managed to make our ‘GO GOA’ with no job and less money. The only currently employed was the Poster girl of our trip Ms Mishra, full of beauty and of course currency notes. ;)

Amid shaking dreams and some hopes of resuming job and making a mark in world of journalism, two ambitious journalists – Joshi and Swati Priya, were planning to make their ending weekends in darling city Mumbai a time to remember for lifetime, helped by an advertising professional Manne and Mannu (as we fondly call Ms Mishra). After gauging the idea of common night outs to pyajama parties, Swati Priya zeroed on to do something filmi like DCH and more recently ZNMD! To go out of Mumbai and what could be a better destination other than GOA.

November 16, I get this call at 11:15 pm from Khushboo, Goa chal rahe ho? I was like haiee Goa, kab-kyun-kaise? After no-no galore and giving those redundant explanations of my so-called ‘no-money-destitution’ and rounds of ‘Papa se pucha’ discussion, I agree to join the trio. Meanwhile, Swati Priya was constantly cautioned by her mother from Dhanbad about her ‘Paani dosh’. Swati almost vowed of not going in water, which she partially fulfilled by not taking any water sports and dipping neck-deep in all the beaches.

Since, I jumped in the trip at the last moment I had no ticket but three friends and a bag. The trio had already booked tickets, but since all four of us were destined to go to Goa, we didn’t really care if I get a ticket or not. Khushboo just said, “Ho jaega.” And I was like, “You guys have tickets but mera kya hoga?” And the route chosen or I should say left at the last moment was via BUS, which towards the end of journey we said BASSS. The reasons are obvious and mentioned above. Kindly refer the first paragraph.

We reached with our bags near Andheri station looking out for rick towards Bisleri naka at the East side. And as people in Mumbai say it is easy to find God, than finding a rickshaw, the trouble compounds when you direly need it. Our friend Asim was in Andheri that evening, and taking full advantage of a boy there we engaged Asim in finding rick for us. And as Asim – the smart Mumbai boy is, found us a Cab that too not the old South Mumbai ones Fiat, this was Western suburbs type – Santro. We hoped in and embarked towards Goa, making calls at home and friends. I heard Mannu saying, “Hann to Goa jaa rahe hai.. rick me thodi na jaenge.” We maintained the class while traveling to bus stops and took Toyota Innova from hotel to Panji bus stop. :P

We reached the Bisleri naka within 10 minutes waiting for the bus and managing that one more ticket for me. Khushboo and I spoke to the Neeta travels and they said he will adjust two of us in the driver’s seat. I asked him, “Where is that seat in the bus?” He pointed towards the end of a stationed bus, “there”. Since, we both did not lack determination, we were happy and complacent to have paid no extra money for the last-minute-ticket. Rs 800, AC, Sleeper.

Bus arrived at around 9:40 PM and we entered looking for our seat. The conductor directed us to the extreme back. I and Khushboo adjusted in the driver’s seat, while Mannu and Swati occupied theirs. Bus blues, which were rife for Khushboo Joshi and we three were unaware of her random-bus-pukes till morning 9 o’clock when Khushboo started requesting for those black polythenes. She used more than a dozen.

Nova Casa, yes it is not Casinova, the hotel we stayed in Calangute in north Goa, where most of the popular beaches are located. Half the day was gone in bus as we reached Calangute in the afternoon. Without wasting much time out of those 30 hours spent in Goa, we all dressed in Goan style went for lunch at the near restobar. Two liquids that you have to humbly look for here is drinking mineral water and petrol, sold at extra Rs 10 more than normal price. Since you are in Goa with soul motto of enjoying, inflation doesn’t really bother you. After a vegetarian lunch, thanks to the two vegetarians- Joshi and Mishra, we started looking for ways to commute. We took a Honda Activa and a Kinetic Dio and embarked to explore beaches. Khushboo and Mansi took the driving task with me and Swati as confident pillion riders. The reason also lied that they both had driving license, Swati had one but could not drive, and I could but didn’t have a license.

The first beach we visited was the most popular, Baga beach- colourful, young and fair. The big colourful umbrellas on countless shacks, young honeymoon couples and fair bikini clad firangs. People like us who see blondes in minimal clothes only on English channels or male deo advertisements are for few seconds taken in an awe but after sometime it doesn’t really bother because you see many of them, what excited us was the vibrant feeling of being in a Goa beach together with friends, four girls and a belief that "We will not get this chance again." We were the only group of girls there and were therefore, enjoying all the attention. We took two shacks on hour basis and within moments were flocked by vendors - "Ma'am try this tattoo," "Madam have a look at this beautiful bangle, only Rs 500. Only for you madam," followed by some desi lines, "Madam chana, masala chana, ekdum fresh." Mansi and Khushboo got their streak of hair tangled in colouful woolen thread, giving their Goan look an extra touch, while I and Swati concentrated on munching sing daana. Finally being in Goa how on Earth we could have resisted water sports except for our "paani dosh" girl Swati, who paid heed to her Mom's instruction did some "bag dekhna" act, while we enjoyed the water scooter drive.

I was given this life guard jacket and made to sit on a scooter. There was this jet black driver boy and seemed to be actually working on per person basis. He kept saying, "Madam jaldi baitho, jaldi, jaldi." I told him, rather requested, "Bhaiya mujhe tairna nahi aata, gir jaun to bacha lena." He was humble and said, "Areee madam nahi girne dunga." I was happy. The water bike, as I would call it, started and ohh my God, I felt like a Hollywood actress on a water scooter chasing some goon. It was fantastic, fantabulous experience that came to an end within a minute, just one round covering half the sea as much as I could see. Khushboo and Mansi also took their share of thrilling rounds. One more thing, I should put this as Disclaimer: Camera will follow you four wherever you go in Goa. So, we sticking to the disclaimer clicked some 550 odd pictures in 30 hours. One of the few group pictures is posted along with this note.

After all the fun and frolic at the Baga beach we headed towards Anjuna beach. It was 5 o'clock in the evening as we followed the sign boards for Anjuna and kept going and going. The road went deserted with dusk. We stopped mid-way and listened to our discretion that this ought to be wrong time to be at Anjuna. I could recall the beach as the notorious one which is more in the news due to the ill-incidents that took place in the past. We drove back to the city and halted at Saturday bazaar. This is the market that runs only in November- December with lot of stuff for shopping, good food and music. This piece of useful information was provided by Mansi Mishra and you can expect such information from Manne that has to do with shopping, shopping and shopping. She was joined by Swati and Khushboo. I was happy to have bought myself a jhola-bag that is easily available in Colaba, Mumbai. With lot of world food around us, we preferred trying some mommos, both vegetarian and non-vegetarian. And the verdict was that an eating joint in 10 number market of Bhopal serves way too much delicious and cheap mommos. It was validated during my recent trip to Bhopal.

By this time we had already become a shade darker and as Khushboo said she always wanted this Goa tanning. We left the Saturday bazaar finding Tito’s, the popular restobar-pub of Goa, which had advertised itself almost all over the walls of the city with two red colour coconut trees and a punch line Tito’s - where else. All the people in Tito’s looked neat donned in smart evening dresses and we four in partially wet clothes, without make-up touch up, tanned and tired. It had a very good singer who was mostly singing English songs. An old foreigner couple kept dancing to the tune and they looked very much affectionate. The singer then did some Indian act and sung the trademark friendship song "Yaaron dosti badi hi haseen hai" and we hummed along with him. Restaurant service in Goa is generally slow but good ambience keeps fueling your patient with some more patients. We had a nice dinner there and returned to hotel.

The next day started with Mannu knocking our room making me and Khushboo realize that we are not here to sleep. This was one of the earliest mornings for me lately when I woke up at 7:30 am. We dressed up in colourful small frocks and day two's surprise package was Khushboo Joshi who transformed into a doll-like pretty baby from the usual tom-boy. This was the day to remember Dil Chahta Hai and give at least 20 DCH pose at the Fort where the title track of the film was shot with Aamir, Saif and Akshay doing that trademark 'shadow' act. We also did. Stood up at the three blocks one by one and played with shadow. Usually tourists pay some heed to the information scripted on a big stone at the entrance of such historic places but since our only aim was to click lot of pictures and feel happy just by giving DCH poses we did not even care to know the name of the Fort or who built it and why. I did search on the internet while writing this and thought to share at least the name, it is Aguada fort.

This was one place that sans foreign nationals and had lot of Indian tourists. We enjoyed driving through up-down roads being sun-kissed and our Tom & Jerry (khushboo-Swati) kept shouting ye-ye-ho-ho all the way making the "kitna maza aa rha hai na," feel more realistic. And I will remember this forever. Our following spots were remaining beaches in the vicinity. From Aguada fort we went to this not very known Sinquerim beach, the scenic beauty of this place was marvelous. The water was blue and very clean alluring all of us to jump in and we jumped, splashed, clicked and laughed. Next destination was Candolim beach. Again, we got shack-proof protection from blazing sun, this time with less madam-tatto-chana-masala vendors around us. The sunny day and lot of air helped us in drying up our wet clothes and here we were again back in water. Khushboo chose to relax under the shack and do ample self-photography. And I must confess the outcome of the pictures was remarkable, after all she looked pretty.

By the second day our paani dosh girl Swati was least bothered of her Dhanbad instruction and was the initiator to take dips in the sea. Giving her company was poster-girl Mannu, who was second to none to the sexy blondes on day two. I and Khushboo saw them both playing, looked at each other and kept quiet. This is how we communicate - see, understand and assure. Swati came and picked me up almost slamming, "Yahan kya baithne ke liye aae ho.. chalo na teddy bear." And I cannot say no to her whenever she lovingly calls me- teddy bear. Three of us chit-chatted half immersed in water while gazing at a honeymoon couple. After lot of thinking Mannu zeroed on the thought that Goa is not a very good honeymoon destination, we also discussed the reasons and what should be the more appropriate place. Our talks went serious from naughty as I told Mannu while reaching the shack, "Shayad banne aur bigadne me yahi fark hota hai," pointing to the fact that it took so much sunlight and air for clothes to dry and only fraction of second to be wet all over again.

Counting on number of hours left with us it was time for lunch. And alike the nice dinner at the Tito’s we were searching something good. We stopped at a restaurant called Mango Groove and ordered lot of food. The name Goan fish curry with rice tempted me and I ordered along with vegetarian noodles, pasta and rice. After eating the fish I got the reinforcement of the fact that none can beat Bengalis in cooking the best fish in the world. We even got some tadka dal fry, an unusual dish to be on the platter in Goa and we again got an assurance- better stick to pasta and have dal at home. It was quarter past 3 pm and our deadline to return hotel was 5 pm, suddenly and unanimously we headed for Anjuna beach, this time at the right time. It was quite a long drive. This beach was bit deserted as expected, the cool breeze of evening was refreshing. We wrapped up the spot in some 15-20 minutes, clicked mandatory share of pictures and then back on Activa and Deo. Swati did little shopping from a local boutique. Now, I took on driving with Swati. I scripted the memory of driving longest way on an Activa that too in Goa.

The last beach remained was Calangute located just behind the Nova Casa hotel. It was so near to our place that we kept it as the last beach. It was getting more and more pleasant with a shying sun. Amid high waves, cold water and orange sky we counted minutes remaining with us, barely 100. We returned to the hotel and to our regular denims, packing bags, looking out for packets to carry heavy wet clothes. The reason why this trip will always bring a smile on my face is that it was my first ever trip with friends, that too with girlfriends. :)

The hotel boy had arranged an Innova that took us to Panji bus stop. And this was the end. Faces glowingly tanned and hearts happy yet not contended. No, we did not try to act or feel like Hrithik Roshan or Farhan Akhtar of ZNMD simply because you don't hear emotional background score in real life. What whirled in our mind and hearts was a sense of realisation, realisation of being together, being friends, being bind in rapture for 30 hours and a desire of being back again at some juncture of life in Goa with four friends and four fast track bags.

Khushboo, Swati and Mansi love you. Take care !!!

Not that Rosy !!!

2011-11-26T20:29:00.006+05:30

It has been a long long time that I have penned myself in loose words, broken sentiment with grammatical errors and spelling mistakes. Writers and poets cant stay away from this white page for long, spending hours pouring all the blood and tear. I am neither a poet nor a writer. But like all, my heart bleeds too in comfortably packed room that sans care, warmth and genuine affection. And this time it is has to be a rented flat in Andheri, Mumbai, which is always scintillating with light, crowd and bizarre madness. And prostitutes and seemingly notorious people only add up to the charm of this place after midnight.

I am completing a quarter of my life this coming January 3. I have completed 25 years and as people say men actually start behaving to live men after 25 years. Thank God if they really do so. No offences to lovely men out there, even I have few loving and lovely men in my life. And what about me. Will I behave more sensibly and not cry everytime, unable to confront myself? Will I learn the art of putting myself, my stands in front of people, in a more sophisticated manner, in a manner which people call is decent and not like that one people call a fight in a poor slum. Is the intensity of anger different in people living in a flat than those living in a chawl? I do not think so. People may vary. I now realize that we know so many people in life, like having a closely knit peer group, scores of aquaintances near us, some more scores in the professional world. But how many actually- genuinely love you? None or one? Even if it is one, life becomes so very easy, because truth is that people love you, praise you, care for you as long as you are benefitting them in a mannner they want. When they feel you are no more supplying that fuel of interest that moment you've become redundant. You are no more important and get reduced to say - just a copy writer in the company that doesnt want you because a journalist cannot generate revenue (fools should better have Tata or Mahindra generator, at least they can relate to the word Generator, bad joke I know) or a 'roomie' where cleaning equally and buying grocery intelligently becomes the binding force.

There are namesake friends, who knowingly hurt you but shamelessly call you just because you 'might' be useful in their needs. And when they see that you did not turn up, your mobile phone can even take months to flash that name and number. --- calling. The only solace one finds is seeing pictures that are rosy - your Maa, Papa, may be asmall baby in your house, a friend or beloved. But what if you do not want to see any of them? One encounters such dark and scary moments as well. Finding true love is again, they say is for 'rarest of rare' speices. Species, who are audacious, mad and loyal. There is no place for cowards and manupulators here. Only bestowed are destiny's favourite children. And I ought to be destiny's favourite child !! I do not understand why do people always end up over-analyzing their relationships? If one thinks he/she is the one for you, then accept them with their flaws, de-merits and tantrums. Don't loose interest in your girl just because she has put on some weight and never leave your boy because he's lost his job. Money, fame, power are bound to come but love, if not 'handle with care', will wane away and buried in thick layer of anguish, hatred and nasty memories.

Well, ending this here only on an abrupt note - so am I now. Take care.

Nov 24, 2:47 pm, Mumbai.

Beauty.. Life... Agony..

2011-09-26T12:53:00.006+05:30

You’re the ruler, of my Heart and Soul

2011-09-07T18:17:00.002+05:30

They say you are the boss and I’m the slave
They think I’m right, you are a dark knight
They say you the ruler
But I know you the Protector
I know how you lost to make me win
How you cried to see me swing
Dancing like a courtesan, drinking the sip of life
You came back running in those busy streets
With roses, lovely and red
You kept aside that ego, to say sorry
Assuring me – ‘dear I’m your slave’ and ‘you’re the ruler’
Of my Heart and Soul
Forever !

Sinking deep, like the last breath !

2011-09-07T16:37:00.000+05:30

Sinking deep, like the last breath
Last desire, like the last local of midnight
A lonely child in a hostel
Or a young girl in a brothel
Hope breaking, like a soldier will never return home from war
So helpless, like a father of seven daughters
When love, steals you from real you
Moulds you in the one, which is fake you
When beloved becomes dictator, Hitler
You are a Princess and not a Jew !

Arpita.. 07.09.2011

Some Bombay ...

2011-05-05T13:24:00.003+05:30

Some sand of Juhu.. some movie of geity-galaxy Bandra.. some breeze of marine drive.. some sunset of nariman point.. some cuisine of South Bombay… some blessings of ISKON… some shayari of asim.. some more of rachana… some child-like talk of swati.. some gossip of khushboo.. some smile of niharika… some scold n’ care of meenakshi.. some old songs of shweta… some old memory talks of nisha, some voice of Maa… some love of papa.. some chat of dada.. some calls of pau.. some news of commodity.. some dreams of words.. Makes this SOME life A biggg FULL fun in Bombay… :)

College Days...

2011-04-05T15:05:00.009+05:30

I was just being nostalgic to rewind my days of college in Indore. I did my Bachelors’ in BA (Hons) Mass Communication from School of Journalism and Communication (SJMC), DAVV. Arguably, my days in Indore and college have so far been the best time. I am just taking a walk through lanes of memory where I can still see grey wooden doors and mosaic floor of quarter F-12, Doctors colony calling me back and waiting at Patnipura square on my Kinetic Nova and later on Scooty Pep for Rachana to come from her place in Vijay Nagar. Since, I lived at one corner of the city Nanda nagar, Vijay nagar and my college was at Khandwa road, the other end of the city, I almost traveled 12-15 km a day.

Shveta Mehta, aka motu, as I and Rachana still call her, lived in centre of the city Palasia. Another smart chap of our batch, Raj Tandon also lives in the same vicinity. Shveta is now married and lives near to her father’s place. Her ramkali, the age-old Kinetic, safely escorted her and Shraddha di, her elder sister and our senior in college, during first year. Later in the second year she was directly promoted to Black Santro that had a reasonably good music system where we played famous beedi and an infamous song of that time (Rachana, motu and I know that :d ).

I and Rachana teamed up during the first semester and I still remember the first time dropped her half way during a rainy day (our batch started in July 2004- at peak of monsoon). I could roughly remember her red kurti and white bell-bottom salwar that were quite a fashion rage at that time. She sat as a confident pillion rider, unaware of the fact that it was barely my 10 or 15th ride on busy roads of Indore, where nagar-sewa buses moved anywhere they want. But I think that was a faith and confidence she had on me that still lingers and we are still walking and riding together through good and rough roads of life. It has been almost seven years we are friends. Many came and many gone. We are still there in our good and bad times.

So, the day to college usually started getting up at a decent time of 8:30 am. Get ready for college, pack up bags, put in the tiffin and a bottle, most of the time I forgot. I dint not have mobile till final year, though took papa’s set some time. Those who had come from outside had, among locals, Raj had one right from starting. The biggest fear when my college started was commutation. How would I reach there, it was very far and I was an amateur driver. I had recently learned to drive a Kinetic Nova, bought for my brother in school. He left to Panipat for his engineering leaving behind it for me. Since college was very far and it was rainy season and I was ill-at ease to commute such a long way via-via local busses and tempos.

To a general notion of parents barring their children from driving until and unless they have mastered the skill of driving at least at a speed of 40km/hr, my parents were encouraging, rather coercing me to take bike driving slowly and cautiously so that I have the confidence. I agreed partially to drive till bus-stop and planned to take a bus to college till the time I felt I am confident enough to ride all along the long way. Wearing minimum 2.5 inches heels (as I was a tad short for the giant bike), I geared up to embark to the bus stop. The bus stop couldn’t stop me. I drove on to face biggest fear of stopping on a traffic signal. I can re-call there are around seven signals on the way to DAVV from Nanda nagar. And within next 30-minutes, against all odds and to my apprehension, I reached DAVV SJMC campus, safe and single piece.

New faces, beautiful and smart, I could remember there were Shveta, Shikha Tiwari, Aman, Anagha, Purva, Vasudha, Barkha, Tasha, Neha, Akanksha, Roopal, Pooja Dantre and Rachana of course. Soon we all mingled.

Popular guys’ gang included Raj, Rahul, Vivek, Chanchal, Krishna, Gaurav, the duo Kuldeep- Parth- visiting students of our batch. There was another group of boys Prabhat, Uttam, Ashish, Pawan. The best part was despite all differences, the batch remained friends for all three years. Now, that everyone has become busy and getting married, the days of those unadulterated fun and joy still flickers in my mind and heart.

Raj would be always busy with some or the other, Rahul never showed up in class till the day finished and we all meet at bodhi-vriksha and parking stands, Vivek was charming and popular among juniors, specially girls due to his good looks, and I am glad to tell you all that he’s a TV actor today, Krishna cracked jokes all the time making everyone laugh, Kuldeep and Parth joined us on campus fun whenever they made themselves available being in the city from Chittorgarh, their native. Parth was famous for his intense love for cinema and philosophy, as guys use to call him Naseer saab. Gaurav Shukla, who enjoyed status of being the most intelligent student of 2004-07 batch always hooked to mobile and internet and was a complete tech-savvy.

Girls, one the other hand were tad more studious, if not very, expect for Lui (Anagha), as we fondly called her would keep on and on and on chatting-non-stop splashing that radiating smile. She’s a successful air-hostess today as she had always dreamt. Vasudha, the most stylish and ‘in-talk’ girl on the whole DAVV campus, use to come seldom to college as she moved to Mumbai in second year only. Her trailer presence kept guys’ curiosity about her rife all through the three-years. And how can I miss, Ms Tasha Singh Parihar- the studious girl, who always miffed with Chanchal Jhanwar. She wrote to me recently that she’s cleared Ph.d entrance, so I should write Dr Tasha Singh Parihar. J

While Aman’s richness lied in her modesty and elegance, Purva’s innocent smile worked wonders. Shikha - the chuimui girl and one of the sought after lass in the batch charmed everyone with her simplicity.

I, Rachana and Chanchal had joined a small time local student’s newspaper and had almost visited all Indore schools for promoting it. Our classmates used to tease us for it and within few months we joined Indore Plus, the local supplement of The Times of India, only to be thrown out after doing three months of hard work and toil. But that short stint was a strong base for whatever we are today. I feel proud that Chanchal has started his own PR Company in Indore and Bhopal and hope now he correctly writes ‘does’ instead of dose. :P. Chanchal was sweet and a decent boy.

Rachana and I are in Mumbai. Shveta to everyone’s surprise is doing very good as a Faculty in Indore’s Prestige Institute. Shikha is now an MBA. Raj is in Indore and is in a good position in Bhaskar group. Rahul, Kuldeep, Krishna and Vivek have started a production House ‘Mantavya Films’ in Indore and are doing pretty well. Vivek, apart from his Mumbai work features in all their projects. Parth is doing Law cashing his debate skills and is a professional in Development field like his parents and even today whenever I talk to him, he never misses out to give philosophy tips.

Everyone has left college now but I guess when they look back they could still hear loud laughs on the campus, in the classrooms, canteen and parking stands, blush on their crush’s smile, regret those silly fights and grudges, cry in seeing a friend in pain. I miss that class room, canteen, the bodhi-vriksha, chat sessions in canteen, notes, exams and more over my friends. Miss you all.

BA (Hons) 2004-07, SJMC Batch - Rachana Maheshwari, Arpita Sarkar, Shveta Mehta, Shikha Tiwari, Anagha Kulkarni, Tasha Singh Parihar, Amandeep Kaur Arneja, Purva Dhadhich, Nehal Bagora, Vasudha Sharma, Barkha Jain, Pooja Dantre, Neha Sharma, Roopal Plaha, Akanksha Bhan, Chanchal Jhanwar, Raj Tandon, Vivekanand Gangele, Gaurav Shukla, Krishna Nandan, Kuldeep Damor, Parth Joshi, Rahul J, Prabhat Srivastava, Aashish, Uttam Goswami, Pawan.

Good wishes.

Cheers Arpita

Still I Rise

2011-03-14T15:35:00.004+05:30

You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I'll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
'Cause I walk like I've got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I'll rise

Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops.
Weakened by my soulful cries.

Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don't you take it awful hard
'Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines
Diggin' in my own back yard.

You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I'll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I've got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history's shame
I rise
Up from a past that's rooted in pain
I rise
I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.

Maya Angelou

Oh! Woman, Femme, γυναίκα, महिला, หญิง, عورت

2011-03-08T15:09:00.000+05:30

So today is the day I should post something. It is International Women’s Day. Though we have been commemorating this day only lately, but as the Urdu dictum says - der aaye durust aaye! cherishing her existing in a joyful manner is indeed a nice thing.

Definitely this one day come as a refreshing change in offices when we are given roses and cakes to eat as a token of love and respect from the employer but as the cliché goes core issues remain the same. Women are still fighting to basic rights and self-respect. Mindset of the society is still age-old. Well, my dear readers I don’t have much to say on this. Here are just few questions that keep reminding a woman of the difference between her and a man, and I must say all girls ask this at least once in their life.

Why am I killed even before I am born, the mixing of XXY chromosome is not my fault?
Why I don’t get my mother’s surname?
Why do I need to sleep on floor while menstruating?
Why can’t the husband leave his home and live with my family?
Why do my father will have to give some lakhs to groom’s father?
Why is it ‘Kanya-daan’, am I a daan?
Why is it compulsory to marry?
Why can’t my husband take my surname?
Why am I raped, just because I have a body different from men?
Why am I asked for sexual advances in office?
Why can’t I abuse or do gaali-galoch?
Why am I only the izzat of family, are my brothers a ‘shame’?
Why I am not the Mother of a Church, a lady Maulavi, a respected female Brahmin pandit?
Why am I only responsible to cook food at home?
Why it is always about greatness of mother, are fathers’ not capable enough?
Why only I am the prostitute, what about men, even you have the body to sell?
Why do I get less daily wage as a labourer than a man?
Why do only I cover my head and face?
Why being feminist, is being arrogant?

Perhaps these are also age-old questions.

To all bold and beautiful women out there and lovely men in their lives, wish you all a very Happy Women’s Day.

Hindi – महिला
English- Woman
French – Femme
Spanish- donna
German- Frau
Greek- γυναίκα
Portuguese- Mulher
Latin- Mulier
Romanian- Femeie
Dutch- vrouw
Arabic- امرأة
Urdu- عورت
Irish- bean
Thai- หญิง
Hebrew- אישה

Khaana-badosh

2011-03-03T12:37:00.000+05:30

Church Gate Station, 1910

Hey friends, I wrote earlier this year to shed my innate inhibitions. And here’s one attempt and I am very happy for it. I owe a heartily thanks to my, those friends who use to say I should at least try to write. And I’ve scribbled few lines just walking lanes of darling Mumbai! This is dedicated to my family, dearest friends and city Mumbai. Hope you all like my effort. :)

Churchgate ki sadkon par,

Khaana-badosh hokar,

Tum aur hum nikle....!

Socha ke ek film dekhein,

Dekha toh,

Hamari kahani...

Ziyadah khoobsoorat lagi!

Kehte ho,

Likhti kyun nahin?

Likha toh,

Alfaaz se tum nikle..!

Churchgate ki sadkon par,

Khaana-badosh hokar,

Tum aur hum nikle....!

Meghe Dhaka Taara

2011-02-26T15:46:00.000+05:30

I was going through this Ndtv website and found a very interesting and informative link as Hindi cinema's 20 greatest films. My memories of the film that topped the list took me into flashback stealing my attention from bizarre stock market to college campus and days in Bhopal! I used to come after 9:30 pm from office, have food and hook on to internet or tv that usually bore no fruitful thing, but yes I did feel relax.

On one such mundane day, I was just surfing channel frequently to stop at something that could hold my eyeballs at a place for atleast five minutes, which my production friends say is a huge task. It was closely to midnight, if I remember. Moving from paltry tele shopping stuff to 24 hours ‘khabariya’ news channel to a host of English movie channels, I hooked to still-haven’t-changed Doordarshan.

I think it is the quality of my country that has thought me to remain actually traditional no matter how urban- coming of age- girl I try to be. We still love pani-puri over pizaa, I guess. So, Doordarshan is a tradition and we are emotionally connected as it takes back us in childhood, at least my generation.

So, after moving pillar to post to see something good, I landed on Doordarshan where decades old black and white movie was telecasted. What prompted me to stop and pay heed that it was a Bangla flick. My knowledge and interest of Bengali films is cordoned off to Mahanayok Uttam Kumar and the scintillating beauty of Bengali cinema Suchitra Sen. I started watching waiting for the super hit pair to appear on screen. Instead, found a girl in her late twenties with big spectacles clad in a white-blue border cotton sari with a jhola in her hand and galore determination on her head, there was a typical filmi mother, nagging poverty and praising the other beautiful daughter- her apparently proud sister, a helpless father, home driven in destitution and an avid music lover brother, who stays back in home to make his musical dreams come true. And another brother who is still studying.

It drew my attention where this girl, Nita was the sole bread-earner of the family of six. She was clam, responsible and enigmatic. Nita kept me glued to the tv set as I saw her struggle with poverty, duty, love, relationship and self. She sees herself losing love of life to her own sister, who marries elder sister’s boyfriend, her mother lacked compassion. The brother was always by her side but his passion for music was greater than sister’s pain.

There was no one on her side to understand her feelings, to solace and comfort her। Within sometime the movie caught me inits grip of storytelling and authentic portrayal of shades of human life. It seamlessly depicted pain, agony, complexity and envy. Nita is later diagnosed with tuberculosis, the singer brother becomes a noted artist. The concluding scene takes Nita in a deserted treatment centre where she screams asking what she got giving her best years of life, falling into arms of her brother. Perhaps even he did not have the answer.

I was eagerly waiting for a commercial break, so that I could know the name. To my amazement of not even imagining to see a movie without plethora of ads, there was no advertisement till the end of movie, neither was there the title of film. My inquisitiveness to know the name of movie was getting intense. The film ended after midnight on an abrupt note without showing the credits, leaving me behind with Nita and her life.

Next morning, I discussed the movie with Maa, even she could not get the scenes. I left that there only feeling complacent that I watched a good movie. After sometime, Upal mam (My teacher for life and then faculty at MCRPV) was discussing use of background music in films, where she explained a scene where sound of whip was used as reflecting anguish and jealous as background score in a Bengali film called Meghe Dhaka Taara, directed by Ritwik Ghatak. I had heard the name of the acclaimed Bengali director, but didn’t see any of his movies.

I could relate with her narration to frown face of Nita, the stiffness in emotion as she walked down the steps of house where her lover and sister stayed as spouses. I then ask, Ma’am is this a movie of girl Nita, she said yes, "Haven’t you seen the movie that too being a Bengali," almost slamming my ‘caste’ identity. The film topped the list of Best Indian Cinema with best performance of Supriya Chowdhary as Nita.

She spoke story of scores of Nitas whose lives have been lost as her scream in endless valley of loneliness and despair.

Random….

2011-02-21T16:53:00.000+05:30

Loads of thoughts whirling inside my heart and mind and alike any other day, I am pondering how my life has been, how it is going to be, am I a good daughter, can I be a good wife, mother, how long will it take to attain my dream job, can I save few more notes to buy good branded clothes from ongoing shopping sale, had I been little thinner, the little, cheaper Bandra road-side clothes would have been all mine, can’t I put that extra-effort to make my near-dear ones more happy, why can’t change lives of scores of dirty-beautiful street children. Why and How.

Half of lives are gone understanding these dynamics of why and how। Why it happened, how will it happen? What happened cannot be changed and what will happen, we all don’t know, but then why WE knowingly want to know the unknown. Again, why? You know what I have registered myself of a site that sends me one inspirational message everyday. I wonder over its futility, am I becoming such a hopeless person that I need daily dose of an inspiration? I have realized lately that I have increased my frequency and capacity of taking these boring- redundant trips (which includes- guilt trips, crying trips, missing-parents trips, nostalgic trips, I-am-a loser trip etc etc), may be I have so much time to do that.

Well, to my handful of loyal readers, this is no post for making you comment (and if you do, my pleasure dear), as it is just scribbling of my random thoughts. Moving on, my office is all donned in cricket fever and I can see flags of different countries all around. Hope India displays good performance. Talking on cricket, it reminds me of a recently released Hindi movie Patiala House- which is based on father-son discrepancy over son playing cricket for England. Though at the end, unlike happy-Hindi movie, the father lauds son’s achievement and victory, but the hero half his life spends living the life his father chooses for him. It is really complicated to zero on conclusion whether he was right or wrong. The answer is that there are few things in life which are above right and wrong. What should one opt- responsibility or wish, command or dream, heart or mind, family business or sports, parents or lover? All these are above explanation, logic and reasoning. But at the end one has to make choice, which is neither right, nor wrong. Though I maintain, it is about one’s innate right, which is bestowed by the creator.

But life’s never as easy as writing a blog. I wish all lovely people out there get what they dream and aspire for and may their dear ones always be with them. :)

Maa

2011-02-05T14:51:00.001+05:30

Well these few lines is for the person we all love the most in life that’s- Maa, mom, mummy, aae, ammi. I will fall short of words to explain the meaning of this word. May be we children can never understand the meaning, because the one who gives meaning to our lives cannot be an explanation. Well, alike everyday I missing my Maa dearly, since she lives 900 km away from me or rather I should say I left her. A mother never leaves her child, she is the only one who is there in all good and bad times. Here is an attempt from my end to explain Maa- though I know I can never do.

My sanwali Maa who is most beautiful in the whole world.

My choti si maa who is the tallest support.

My little fat maa who can hold me most tightly in worst of times

My- not a PG-degree holder maa who taught me 6th class math to calculate the complication of this world.

My maa, who has never met her friends from past so many decades, explained me the meaning of friendship, the meaning of being loyal, faithful.

My not so fashionable Maa who always complement me, even if I wear Pink!

My shy maa who shares man-women relation with me.

My super-optimistic maa, who always thinks and believe I can crack IAS, IIT, IIM or the hardest of exam in the world.

My friend maa who is fine with me sitting with a boy at CCD, but cautious me of casual relationships!

My understanding maa, who brought me back home after failed attempt of me to study Medical exam preparation.

My not so urban maa who always pushes me to be the best journalist, join Indian express, because she knows it is my desire.

And … and I told you I will fall short of words.. I cannot express my Maa. Love you Maa…. J Here’s ending with a Munnawar Rana’s lines on Maa.

लबों पे उसके कभी बद्दुआ नहीं होती

बस एक माँ है जो मुझसे ख़फ़ा नहीं होती

अभी ज़िन्दा है माँ मेरी मुझे कु्छ भी नहीं होगा

मैं जब घर से निकलता हूँ दुआ भी साथ चलती

किसी को घर मिला हिस्से में या कोई दुकाँ आई

मैं घर में सब से छोटा था मेरे हिस्से में माँ आई

How many Arunas?

2011-01-24T17:05:00.000+05:30

I don’t know whether to thank my colleague Khushboo for providing the story or just feel sorry. But sorry for whom, for that lady whose dreaded story I came across or innocent women who pay price for being women or feel sorry for the whole womanhood. It is so dejecting at times that just because the nature has created women with big chest gives men the license to rape them.

It is so very disgusting that first women are raped and then they die living a paltry life and the offender goes off washing hands in crime. I have always been vocal about discussing fragile rape laws in India and that it is so easy for rapist to get . But to my poor knowledge, I was unaware of the Aruna Shanbag case of November, 1973 in Mumbai. Aurna was young nurse at Bombay’s KEM hospital and was engaged to a junior doctor. She was brutally raped by ward boy Sohanlal Bhartha Walmiki in the basement of the hospital.

Ironically, the accused was not convicted under the 376 of the IPC, but for attempt to murder and robbery. Sohanalal had choked her with a dog collar causing asphyxiation that cut off the oxygen supply to her brain.

After all the investigation it was found he raped her from anal and not vaginally, since she was menstruating on that day. Anal sex does fall under the purview of rape in India, not even oral sex. Oral sex it booked merely under eve-teasing and breach of modesty of a woman.

What age we live in. Am I safe here, is the justice system, the police, the country capable enough to protect me or my daughter in near future? I am hopeless.

My mother was a child when Aruna was raped. I am 24 today asking the same question and I am still not sure if my daughter will ask the same question after some 20-25 years later. This is indeed painful.

2010-12-31T17:12:00.000+05:30

One more year passed. 2010 has come to an end, leaving behind memories, bad and good. Well, write-ups like these are very mundane where we script sweet and sour experiences of the recent past. The fancy over New Year resolutions, which are as short lived as time is galore but I don’t remember making a New Year resolution so far. But I believe determination is better that decree. So, I think to shed off my bundles of inhibitions and fly high…. On this note I wish you all a Very Happy New Year…. Work,,,, Party… Eat… sleep… travel.. listen to music.. marry.. sing.. dance.. and all that makes you happyyy…

Because marriages are made in heaven, not in ‘China’

2010-12-14T17:24:00.000+05:30

Well, I am on to my job. Think, think and think. And I think on endless topics, except for my work- Business and Commodity.. pheww.. Well, my colleague and dear friend Khushboo sent me a beautiful piece of writing that dealt with most fragile like glass, delicate like heart, complicated like life and beautiful like child topic- Marriage. It had recorded instances of women who have been in a relationship that didn’t work anyhow and also gave a reason to breath, live life once again. Since, I am not married so I really don’t know the complex of being in a marriage. It certainly is bliss, but I think if the mandatory-yet-simple work from spouse are not done, it can badly turn into a battle ground.

I also, somehow don’t believe in the word ‘institution’ as in the word itself carries a sense of an obligation, instruction more than pure innate feel of emotion and love. I mean, it is an institute I like but I might not want to take an admission, because I know I have to work hard like a dog to be successful in it. Why carry this feeling? Marriage, for most people I know will relate to my statement, is a social license to live together, have legitimate child, get easy rental house, loans etc etc. OK, I know many of you discard it like a pathetic joke.

I think one should enter in wedlock without carrying sense of huge responsibility, obligation or task. There are innumerous thoughts going in my mind on marriage. Undoubtedly, Indians share a large ratio of successful marriages than west. But I have tried to ponder what the word ‘successful’ accounts for, what is the cost that spouses pay to keep that ‘social hysteria’ on with head held high? Woman succumbing to forms harassments at sasural or husband surrendering his dignity and self-respect to a rich and influencing dad, there are volumes of reasons and reasons without volume.

But at the end, as I think, life’s never bed of roses. And because we are surrounded by roses and have to put in that ‘effortless’ effort to make the bed rosy, marriage- like any other relation that need reciprocators of love, respect ,understanding and honesty, wife and husband also need to be ‘genuine’ reciprocators, if not the best. Genuine I said because marriage are made in heaven and not in ‘China’.

Well, my dear trading exchanges have closed. Will write more. Blessings to all married, in-relationship couples. Have a happy life. :-)

Shonar 'Mumbai'.....

2010-12-08T18:08:00.000+05:30

I get sorts of mixed feeling to describe my stint so far with city Mumbai. I love the city at par with other places but it stands a step denominator to my hometown. Reasons are obvious, I guess. Mumbai, the capital of Maharashtra perhaps is the most talked city in the new age. It carries a charm that no other city has and has a self-congratulatory feel. Blended with tradition and modernism, the city has its own share to give to everyone. No wonder why chunks of people flood in to the city all the time. For coming here was a destiny. It was a destination I had never thought to zero in.

The best part with the city is you feel safe and secure and the worst is that despite being surrounded by scores of people you feel all alone. It feels like standing in the middle of an ocean finding for that shore. I understand those who live with roommates and flat mates for job and career. If you have old friends, you are lucky. One feels that void. I often say that the mostly referred line for Mumbai that it has a fast life- I say its all fast in Mumbai and no life.

The morning starts in a chaos to get ready and enter the battle field- to catch the local train. And remember everyone’s a winner here. You can not lose, if you lose a train, you can lose many things- a job and even a life. Many people die just catch the fast local for Churchgate.

But local train is the most convenient way to get to any major part of this huge city. When I was new to the city, I would just stand at a place and watch the crowd around jostling around everywhere. And in no time I realize, I am now the part of the crowd. I too have become just another Mumbaikar. I try to learn marathi. It is a fun language. I often get to hear amusing fights in locals. And those ladies cat fight are simply the best time pass.

You will get to see people from every walk of life here. The food- is synonymous to vada pao. It was only after three long months that I tasted first vada pao at Bandra station. And I liked it, hot vada pao with chatni. Yes, but you should check the time. If you are not fond vada pao lover, unlike most Mumbaikar, that cold ball of potato will taste ok. Ok BAD. No offences meant to the great food. Though some vada pao joints are very famous. My very good friend here took me to a good vada pao maker in Vashi. We had fresh hot ones. I guess I liked because it was hot. Then good in Mumbai means a lot of road side culinary. Half of the Mumbai munchs bhel, vada pao, kanda bhaji pao, samosa pao (anything served in a pav is a big time HIT here), sukha bhel, panu puri (for denizens of UP, MP and Delhities - the puris will be served with ragda, if you demand they happily serve you with aalo), dahi puri and ragta patties (aka aalo tikki). Besides, there are very lucrative food joints in posh localities like the chain Pop Tates and Candies.

Talking about my most eventful experience in Mumbai is certainly first hand brush with local train. Local blues were rife before coming to the city. By then, I had only heard from those coming from Mumbai or scenes shown in movies and TV. Vivek- Rani starrer Saathiya did capture fancy for the locals. Anyways, talking about my local ride (it is no less than a roller coaster ride when you hang out of the train with few fingers hooked in or fight for that pole to do pole dance. LOL). Well, for a safe journey, no other adjectives like convenient, comfortable should be written to befool new commuters, one should take full information. So, when you reach the station you don’t move like a bewildered child looking for his mother. You should know signs, A, BO, B, C, V, VA, etc etc. These stands for the final destination on the route, like C- Churchgate, BO- Borivali, V- Virar, A – Andheri, D- Dadar. S and F are S- slow local, which is dheemi local in marathi and F- fast means chalat local. You should which line you are traveling in. Distinctively, there are three main lines- Western Railway (Virar to Churchgate), Central Line (Kalyan, Ambarnath to Badlapur) and Harbour (on which only slow trains run) stretches from (V.T to Belapur, Panvel, precisely connects main city to New Bombay). Dadar, Andheri, Wadala, Kurla, Bandra are some connecting stations between the three lines.

Ok. So that was a bit of touring guide job. I first boarded in Mumbai local from Dadar to Malad. I, papa and Nisha when we three came from Bhopal, I had come for my internship. That time I learnt it wasn’t rush hour time, in local jargon- it wasn’t the gardi time. Gardi- means rush, packed trains. So, we took Borivali slow. Nisha- the beautiful street smart lass was with us, though my father is all skilled to take people and city the hands on. He wears that smartness on his sleeves, after all that’s what you call an experiences man.

So, it was a convenient minus smooth journey, because as a new entrant in Mumbai, you don’t enjoy the crazy sound and dingy compartments. And yes you would be only traveling in second class, unless you own a pass for first class. The price divide here leaves your Bharat- India, rural-urban divide way far. If second class ticket from Andheri to Churchgate is Rs 12 for First class it is Rs 72. So, better travel in cattle class. Thanks Mr Tharoor.

Coming to the ‘real’ local lore, the nightmare was the day two. Papa and I left from Malad in the morning for South Bombay- Masjid Bandar, where the Human Rights organsation office was located. Then my friend Asim, told us to come from slow as it will be comparatively less crowded.

Cont,….

Scribble....

2010-12-08T18:05:00.000+05:30

Well, its closing time. Market closes at 5 pm. I generally hook to the ‘other’ sites after 4:30 pm to recover myself from all wacky bearish- and bullish (the only words I write umpteenth times a day) world of business. I suddenly enter the world where I feel myself, it gives me hope. I read poetry, about people, children, women, to fight, to liberate, compassion, love, joy. I read blogs, Hindi and urdu poem, try to feel concern for the destitute. And more over give myself one more to chance to question myself. I came through I very good poem on Ravish Kumar’s blog today. I felt deeply touched that in what world of ironies we live in, why we work, earn countless cash, yet have miseries and why life continues to laugh at us. It is a cycle. Emotions whirl all the time. Life’s is unexpectedly unexpected. Here the day starts with market and money and closes with the same. Well, clock’s calling me. Its five. Back to market, and this time not for shopping. J

Dec 8, 2010

Tit - Bit... random thought.. Love Thy 'All'

2010-04-26T15:05:00.000+05:30

There is so much to do, so much to think and give. Hatred among people is so deep in skin that words of sheer explanation, fall short. Developed county hates developing, the developing hates under-developed, neighbourhood countries hates each other even as they stand at a forum of equality and commonality. In a country, states hate each other. In a religion, the upper caste detest lower, rich hates poor, poor snubs rich. Hindu and muslims are opposite poles that never attract each other.

For few people abhorrence is at its peak that they cannot tolerate people of Bihar settling down in Maharashtra, thank God Mumbai is in Maharashtra, else where would those handful of proud maharashtrians find place in North Indian land. People question your love for the nation, raising qualm over your ‘Indianness’, unaware of their own. They hate the neighbouring country because few scores have killed thousands in last some decades intermittently. But they love the nation that ruled us for 200 years, harassed and took everything called ‘soul’, but then now we are doing fine with them and do not have an ounce of agony or wrath against them. Now, this gives me a strange but complacent feeling that India and Pakistan will be friends after 200 years; if I bank on them. :-)

But truth is that hatred can never bore love and peace. A sense of love prevails even in the worst time, for the matter one has to understand, a mother is a mother in every part of the world and a child is always innocent until we make her wicked. Teach love, spread peace - an earnest need of world.

Another bit on gas tragedy

2009-12-23T16:14:00.000+05:30

‘Cynicism’ is what it has bore in all these 25 years. Ever since Dec 2-3, the night more than 25,000 Bhopalis were exposed to lethal MIC gas leaked from Union Carbide factory, more than hope it was despair than ran along the blood and nerves. Discuss the infamous Bhopal gas tragedy and get reactions like ‘everything’s fine and people are needlessly screaming out or ‘NGOs are running their dukan’.

Apathy for the people and their ordeal could be seen as one moves just few kilometers from the site (located in old Bhopal). Not many locals have met the victims ever in 20 years. The government of India and Madhya Pradesh that currently controls the site seems to be handling the issue like a cake walk. State Government had recently declared of making the factory site into a memorial.

Once Chief Minister, now cabinet minister in the state government, who could barely speak properly the octogenarian Babulal Guar said when WTC site, post 9/11 could be made as the ground zero why can’t Union Carbide factory. The cost is estimated worth hundred crores. Probably, he thinks that people especially victims are more interested in seeing good things taking place than receiving the due-delayed compensations.

It is interesting to see how the statesmen (for namesake) have played the issue in so lighter veins. Union Environment Minister Jairam Ramesh in his recent visit to the factory site took the toxic in hand and said, “Look I am alive”. This kind of insensitivity is a reflection how people in power who are accountable to bring justice are tackling the matter for Bhopal survivors. But it is an important factor to realize that alone politicians cannot make a big leap. And that solidarity of masses is the need of hour.

While reading scores of article on 25th commemoration day, I hinged on Suketu Mehta’s article on New York Times where he stated with candour that Dow Chemicals (the company that presently owns Union Carbide) should clear the mess as cleaning one’s own mess is a tradition taught in American schools. Another point he made was- imagine if an Indian CEO was charged for culpable homicide for killing 30,000 Americans, would he be relaxing in a mansion in Goa?

Certainly not! He would have been in a USA jail and the world praising the US for doing justice to its people and our politicians would have made a courtesy apology for whatever bad happened with Americans. Unfortunately this did not happen with Indians.

Gas survivors of Bhopal are still waiting for something like this to happen while others are apathetic and many curtly recalling – Has something happened on December 3, 1984?

Disha: An effort to return smiles on faces of homeless boys

2009-09-11T16:55:00.000+05:30

Disha: An effort to return smiles on faces of homeless boys
Arpita Sarkar Bhopal

They are happy and hopeful of a bright future, courtesy the Government-run rehabilitation centre Disha -- working especially for homeless boys. Disha has tried to reunite many of these children to their families. It has helped reunite around 145 boys after its opening in August 2007.

Here are a few examples

Case I

Alike other boys of his age, 13-year-old Ajay did not have the usual upbringing at his home. For him, it is important to have parents. Unfortunately, Ajay is an orphan and lived with his brother and his wife in Shajapur. He was made to work for hours and would not even get meals of two times after a day of full of hardship. And if this was not enough, Ajay was beaten up without any reason. But then around a year back he chose to break bondage and live a life, which was not that of a slave. As he recalls, "I miss my parents very much but after their demise around two years ago my bhaiya and bhabhi did not give the love and care of my parents. And at last I chose to leave the place forever." He boarded on train and ran out of Shajapur. For more than six months Ajay slept at Khandwa railway station with other abandoned children as part of new life. "I used to beg on station and also worked in a hotel," Ajay said.

Case II

Yogesh Chauhan from Nagpur neither misses his parents nor wants to go back home. He could almost not recall the exact age when he left home and spent childhood begging and taking drugs on the railway platform of many cities. "I was around 10-year-old and was addicted to sulochan (a kind of balm), tobacco, smoking and drugs. We would also take drugs through injections," admitted Yogesh, who has overcome the addiction through yoga and meditation. Yogesh is now a student in ITI, Bhopal and is learning the work of a plumber. "I am contended here and I do not want to go back home. Moreover, I feel happy that I am becoming independent," he said.

Case III

Unlike Ajay and Yogesh, Sanjay did make a trip to his abode in Bihar. For him troubles in home were compounding - a step-mother and an alcoholic father. Sanjay ran out of his home eight years back and lived on railway platform of Delhi railway station. After coming in contact with a voluntary organisation he was sent back to Bihar. "Things never changed there," said the 14-year-old shy boy who feels home in Bhopal. "So I again ran and landed up here,” he added.

All boys here have a common painful tale but they also share a commonality - they are no more those dirty boys who live a miserable — yet carefree life on railway platform.

Recently, three boys were reunited with their families in Sagar and Multai of Madhya Pradesh, and one in Banswara district of Rajasthan.

The centre is run by Rajya Shiksha Kendra under Srava Shiksha Abhiyan (SSA) is the only rehabilitation centre in the State that facilitates stray boys in living a decent life.Durgesh Thakur, in-charge of the centre told that most of the boys staying there aged from six years to 14 years mostly have run away from their homes due to various reasons and lived a stray life on the platform. Children are brought here from Bhopal main railway station and Habibganj station. "After counselling them we find few common reasons like step mother or father, alcoholism of father and spoilt peer group, of these children leaving homes," elaborated Thakur.

After the boys are brought to centre, hunt for their family starts. Thakur informed that they first contact the local police and on the basis of information from the child, concerned state police control room is contacted and their family is traced.

He, however, rues about the centre being meagerly funded. "Paucity of funds is a big constraint for us, Government should either recognise this as platform school in Bhopal or that of a government-run hostel," appealed Thakur.

Mixed reaction on the Delhi HC 377 ruiling

2009-07-14T15:27:00.000+05:30

Now that the Delhi High Court gives a green waiver to gay relationship in a landmark judgment on Thursday by legalizing homosexuality among consenting adults holding that law making it a criminal offense violates fundamental rights, the ongoing debate once again stirred-up in Indian society on the lines of ethics and morality.

Here, in state capital residents seem to have mixed opinion on the much debatable issue of homosexuality (gay and lesbian rights). Few discard it completely stating as unnatural but some have opined it as a matter of individual and human rights.

Fresh PG college pass out Brijesh Singh has similar opinion on homosexuality as that of Delhi High Court. “On the whole, I support the decision. It is quite new for us and it would take time for the Indian society to adjust with it. But oppressing is not a solution to such activities. And moreover, it is individual’s freedom.”

Notably, gay and lesbian groups in the country came out in support of the debate that Home Minister P Chidambaram and Union Law Minister Veerappa Moily too are said to be in favour of repealing Section 377 that has been controversial for long.

Sarika Dubey, a Family Planning Counselor at JP hospital states it as completely against Indian culture and society. She says, “Such legitimacy, if given to homosexuality would ruin the marriage institution. In our country, where inter-caste marriages are still a matter of brouhaha, such things are completely unacceptable.” Sarika condemns such a move of Delhi High Court and calls for collective protest.

However, Upasana Behar has opposite view to that of Sarika. She terms is as nothing offensive and ponders upon its biological facets of the issue. A social worker by profession, Upasana opines, “It is biological activity and hormonal changes that take place in adolescent stage of a boy or a girl upon which a person has no control. These relations existed in ancient centuries too. It is just that gay and lesbian relations are in light due to media exposure.”

She further adds that homosexuality should be legalized and is a matter of one’s human rights.

Media professional based in Indore Rahul Jaiswar though agrees on its strong existence in the society, thinks giving legitimacy would only encourage such relations. Tareeq Ali, an engineering student from Bhopal too terms it as unnatural and immoral and is of the view that such a move would cause adverse effect on man-woman relationship.

On the contrary, a collegegoer Yasha though reluctantly accepts it. “We cannot neglect it. Five per cent population is not a small number. Gradually society will accept it, though it will take a long time. There should be not much hype made in it as it existed ages back in our culture,” she added.

Voter's VOICE

2009-04-18T15:17:00.000+05:30

Slum dwellers to cast vote amid despair
Arpita Sarkar
Bhopal

Sheer dissatisfaction was clearly visible on the faces of residents of Indira Nagar slum when they were asked to give reaction on the upcoming Parliamentary election. Most of the voters are appalled with bundle of assurances by two major parties of the country, BJP and Congress. People here are expecting no miracle from the political domain to turn the tables for them.

The 21 year old vibrant community worker Pushpa Rajput says, “I won’t be casting my vote until they (political parties) fulfill our basic needs.” Although the zealot got her voter ID card prepared and aspires to contest election in near future to resolve constraints in her area. “Voters are most powerful. It is we who do not press for our demands with united voice and get befooled with politician’s fake promises,” added Puspha.

Sandhya Verma, who works as a domestic maid says, “I have voted for panja symbol (Congress) in each elections. But this time I am not sure whether I would be casting my vote as these crook politicians have given nothing to us.” Most of the voters in the slum are not aware of the kind of election going to be held on April 23 and April 30 in Madhya Pradesh.

Pushpa along with her colleagues has formed a local manifesto, which would be distributed among slum dwellers. It includes social security, better housing facility, proper health and education, employment and adequate ration to count some. “We would be pasting these pamphlets on walls, and if some one comes for seeking votes we will straight away show these demands. First give us these and then take our votes,” Pushpa asserted.

Septuagenarian Yashoda Bai has been a loyal voter of Congress party but this time she wishes to press all the buttons on the voting machine as none of the parties have brought much positive changes in her life. “I want to make everyone happy, so I will vote for everyone,” Yashoda Bai responded with a smile on asking whom she is thinking to vote this time.

Nothing here is going to woo voters, at least the women voters who are facing terrible problem as there is no arrangement of levorotary in the habitat and the place they used to use has been occupied for construction of houses under the JNURM. However, there are young boys and men who might cast vote in support of the party that offers them with a good ‘package’, which includes money, vehicle with full tank and good food with liquor.

Nitin Vishwakarma, an aluminum partition worker would be casting vote for the first time and has made up his mind to vote for BJP. According to Nitin, BJP has delivered good work, if not in his area but in the state and expects a lot from the party to instate basic amenities in Indira Nagar.

People have alleged the present party of neglecting their and other adjoining slums as they are supporter of the opposition party, by and large. Abdul Jabbar, 35, said, “This time, I am thinking to vote for any third party apart from BJP and Congress.”

As per residents of the colony that falls under ward number 12, no representative from either parties have come for campaigning yet. On talking to cluster of habitants, it has been learnt that slum dwellers do not want to shift in the houses built for them under the JNURM near to their place. “We are very much contended here, we don’t want to shift to rooms of 10X8 where only birds can live and not humans. And this is what I am going to ask political leaders coming for campaigning that would they will live with families in such a small room,” lamented 26 year old Najma Khan.

MORALITY AND WOMEN

2009-04-07T16:48:00.002+05:30

Arpita Sarkar

MORALITY, TRADITION AND SEXUALITY OF WOMEN

Well to begin with the topic, this is the first kind of attempt by me, to pen down my expressions, understanding on the subject. Though feminism and related issues are vast topics, which require both theoretical and practical knowledge to underneath the depth of the subject, there are hundreds of examples occur around that have pretty effortlessly helped me to come up with this. And perhaps this piece is what I have felt and understood, observing dimensions of an individual, institution and public towards women.

Women, who today share half of the population of the world is still endeavouring hard to record presence with lion’s share in the long lived patriarchy society. Women’s identity to a large extent has been subjected in a very cosmetic manner. Words use to define women are beautiful, quite, cultural and virgin. Here I would be particularly talking of the Indian system and society as I have seen much of it around like every woman. It has been once said that man can either love woman or change her into poetry. That is what the frame women had been restricted to for a long period of time. And not to forget that men can also do most gruesome, atrocious acts against women at their will.

Women have been handed over with her civil and political rights very lately. In United Stated of America women were given right to cast vote only in 1929 where as the country attained freedom in 1764. In our country too women have been given her rights very lately. These civil and political powers perhaps were not that easy to achieve. Feminists and social activists have struggled long for this and are still pressing for basic human rights.

It is true that notion of word ‘woman’ in image of the opposite sex is entirely different from what feminists, activists, girls or women think. Role of women from ages has been prescribed by men. It is interesting to observe that sexuality of woman has been subjected to her existence and practices in the society. Woman has been so created that she gives birth to offspring through sexual relation with a man. Building family, community, nation and so on have stood through this mechanism. These domains with their counterparts struggle to maintain existence and superiority over each other. In such a case controlling woman’s this nature was the main aim of the patriarchy society. Religion, traditions, rituals have been stringently used to enforce this. And as it has been said ‘God is for man and religion is for woman’ apprehension seems very much true.

If we closely upbringing and conditioning of girl child right from the day she is born has been so done to restrict her from using her sexuality in her very own means. Fidelity and purity of women is so associated with her sexuality and more over ‘virginity’. A girl is termed as the izzat, laaj (honour) of the family, as if fathers and brothers are a 'shame'. If a character of a boy depends upon whether he smokes or drinks, character of a girl is epitomized with whether she is virgin or not or whether she faults around with her male companions. There has never been commotion of boy being a virgin.

The point I am trying to raise is why words like honour, character and good woman are used to embody her being sexually docile or a virgin. I wonder how huge disparity has prevailed over centuries between man and woman, which till today continue to remain stagnant. I strongly feel that the institution of marriage is the chief vehicle in our society to maintain dominance over women. Women from ages have lived in a pit where she wishfully accepts the male hegemony as she thinks following man’s world is her utmost duty. It is not the fault of woman of but the whole system, which conditions a girl child to behave in that pattern. Wherein, the relationship of a husband and wife, it is through role of wife that her oppression is maintained.

What exactly is morality? Nobody objected to these pubs or liquor shops as long as men were their only patrons, and it is these very men who were creating and being a nuisance to the society and a threat to their women. Is it okay for the men to ill treat their women, rape, molest and abuse them as they wish? The Mangalore incident where some women were molested by "self proclaimed" keepers of Indian morality - The Sri Ram Sena. I am afraid that the politicians are trying to get the "Taliban" regime into India in the pretext of religion, Hindu and Muslim. It is shocking and not acceptable to the women of India.

The moral frameworks do need to change in order to incorporate the moral experiences and intuitions of women. I see the point of difference lying in the fact that males and females are socialized differently, and taught to strive to represent different kinds of virtues. People need not to think in deepth on women issues or read books on feminism. It is just that we have to raise questions, express the unexpressed. As endurance of larger part of a society is not a quality of humanity.

2007-02-03T18:49:00.000+05:30

Article: on World Disabled Day. A visit to School of Disabled children. Place Indore (India). Published in Indore plus (Times Of India).

IT IS ALL ABOUT ABILITY

THEY are no longer considered inferior. Their eyes sparkle with dreams and determination. December 3 was celebrated as world disabled Day all over the country, including Indore. It was a celebration of triumph over diversity; of determination over differences. Brimming with talent, it is time for the society to recognise their potential. They hate being show undue pity and sympathy, which actually stymies their confidence and resolve to make a mark for themselves in society.

We have many NGOs working for blind and disabled schools so as to enable them fulfil their dreams. One such centre in the city is ‘Navjeevana’. The school is being run by Anjana Sridhar. Every day it gives a child a new hope of life. Started with one student around eleven years ago, the lady is blessed with qualities to make these disabled children into what they want to be. Today, around 110 such children aged from one year to fifteen come here. Most of them are dumb and few are with mild retardation. The motive of her school is to make these children at par with any of the normal child and to co-opt them into the mainstream society. And today many of her students are successful engineers. But this was not a cake walk for them and for her as well. “It requires hard work from both teachers, students and, most importantly of their mothers”. Sridhar says, “Parental support is must and is a mandatory. Especially for mothers, there is lot of homework”

We talk of a liberal society with lots of space but when it comes to these people why do cluck our tongue in sympathy and give them the feeling that they need support from us all the time. They don’t need donation or your sympathetic gestures. We have to give them recognition, because they are no more less than anybody. Students of Navjeevan personify these traits of courage, resolve and determination. So, quick at their answers, they would even give you details why Amitabh Bachchan is ill, and can even sing a lovely song for you.

According to Sridhar it is very important that parents should enquire about the disorder at the very initial stages. The unknown fact to all is that no one dumb from childhood. If a child can’t hear properly then how would he able to speak? We speak when we hear it from our surroundings. Firstly the testing is done then accordingly hearing aid is given. Then process of learning starts.

Auditory training, vocalisation, babbling stage, language understanding are the skills that are given to students. The latest technologies like cochlear implant and advanced operation has definitely made things simpler and hopeful.

Describing it as a tough task she says that the ill feeling still prevails in the society that needs to be eradicated. Parents do not dare to send their child to normal schools. She tries sending him/her to normal school. Ten year old Nayan with his naughty smile hasn’t thought of his aim, yet.

The teaching methodology is play with learn and direct activity and practical. Words are explained through objects. They learn to observe things. Students here have a sound general knowledge. Aims are higher.

For them also sky is the limit. At the end of the day Sridhar says, “Nothing is impossible. Just a strong determination and will are the need. And then the world is for those who want.”

Arpita Sarkar