2010-the year in review

This was given to us in our English class before closing up for the winter break. Thought I'll answer it completely...it felt like slam-book days of school where we used to fill each others' slam books, scrap books and diaries writing about our likes and dislikes (like we really cared!).

Following is a consequence of the inability to do focussed work in a holiday season ;-)

 The best thing that happened in 2010 was that I became a graduate. Boy! It meant something to me (It still does actually)



 The worst thing that happened to me in 2010 was__________ (NONE)


 One thing I’ll never forget about this year is that I purchased my own laptop. So what if dad paid for it?


 My biggest disappointment this year was my inability to learn Kannada. To be very frank, I never really made an effort...was busy brushing my Tamil-speaking skills.


 One person I’m glad I met this year is Mr. Kanakaratna, former headmaster and retired officer, Martalli village, Kollegal. I learned a lot from him.


 The most memorable night out I had was... Ah! Tough one *winks* Most have been memorable for some reason or the other : )


 The best story I did at IIJNM this year was my first hard news feature story on urban poverty in Bangalore


 If I learned anything this year, it was that desk job is fun. Never thought there was scope for so much to learn on the desk.


 The best news I heard this year was the RTE (Right to Education) Act. Lot’s still needs to be done though.


 One of the most delicious meals I had this year was the breakfast at Indian Coffee House on one of my beat days. The meal included hot filter coffee, double-egg omelette, egg fry, vegetable cutlet and bread toast. It was also probably the heaviest breakfast I’ve ever had!


 One of the most useful things I’ve learned at IIJNM this year was to think beyond the obvious.

 My toughest assignment at IIJNM this year was to design a magazine page on Pagemaker in a span of 30 minutes as I had forgotten about the assignment. And, God knows how I did it!



 The longest I slept this year was... Again, a tough one. Firstly, it’s a sin to actually measure something so divine and blissful. But nevertheless, I think it was probably fourteen hours after a very tired night. I had a terrible back ache after that.


 If I could live this year over again, next time I wouldn’t waste time and money on buying application forms to multiple colleges. It almost costed a fortune.


 One surprising thing I learned this year was the Bihar Assembly election results that made Nitish Kumar bounce back in the political sphere of the once-deprived state.


 A really good book I read this year was that The Palace of Illusions by Chitra Banerjee Devakaruni. Not one of her best, but worth a shot for epic-lovers.


 One of the most shocking things I saw this year was the news story on a man committing suicide after being called impotent on television in the program Raakhi ka insaaf


 The best thing that happened to India in 2010 was the successful completion of the Commonwealth Games. I seriously doubted it (like most others, I’m sure).


 With hindsight, I’d say 2010 was a pretty eventful year. (Don’t worry, I say that at the end of every year...it’s the most logical and obvious thing to state anyways)


 In 2011, I’m determined to get a job (I guess?)

PC does it again!

"Crime takes place because Delhi attracts a large number of migrants. There are a large number of unauthorized colonies. And these migrants who settle in the city's northwest colonies carry a kind of behaviour which is unacceptable in any modern city."

-P. Chidambaram, Union Minister for Home Affairs, on increased crime rate in Delhi 

So, PC is in the news again. Well, for someone who is the Union Minister of Home Affairs of India, being in the news isn’t something surprising.  But, then, PC seems to be hell-bent on hogging the limelight for all regrettable reasons. Of late, PC is reported to have blamed migrants for the increased crime rate in Delhi, following closely on the lines of our parochial leaders like Bal Thackeray. 

What’s more, Thackeray seems to have welcomed PC’s statement reinstating his anti-migrant stand simultaneously also condemning him for having publically withdrawn a statement that is an everyday reality in India, according to the Thackeray camp.

It’s foolish for the Home Minister to have uttered these words publically in a country that is formed of migrants. The migrant “issue” (if that is how it is to be described) is not one in a particular state alone. If there are Biharis and UPs in Maharashtara, there are Bengalis and Gujratis in Delhi just as there are Odiyas and Punjabis in Hyderabad. People from all corners of the city migrate from one place to another in search of better education, employment opportunities, and for multiple personal and/or professional reasons. If this were not so, India would not have been a ‘free’ country (free at least with this regard, if not anything else). 

Firstly, to equate growing population of migrants with crime rates is completely baseless and stupid as the two have no connection whatsoever; they are two completely unrelated concepts. It is as ridiculous as saying that the number of rats in the house have increased because the rat-poison manufacturer went on a vacation! (Pardon my disastrous analogy)

Secondly, targeting migrants in this manner is quite risky in a country that has a huge chunk of population who belong to this category; PC should have known that. 

Why isn’t anybody getting into the root of the problem? Even a tenth-grader will tell you that if crime rates have increased in a particular city, something ought to be wrong with the security system. Does Delhi Police deliver enough? Are they approachable? Do the people responsible for ensuring law and order in the state themselves have a criminal record? Are they even enough in number, to tackle the increasing cases of murder, robbery, loot, theft and rape? 

As the DNA editorial asserts, urban crime require “diligence, manpower, information and awareness” in order to be tackled effectively. Where do the migrants even come into the picture here? It sounds completely bizarre. In any case, we are talking about crime here. The possible causes for criminal mentality has little to do with the whereabouts of the criminal in question (unless of course there’s some past history that has had a psychological effect on him/her…but that's too far-fetched to even speculate). It is interesting to note here that PC himself is a migrant, in strict terms, something that he later admitted and accepted while publically withdrawing his statement.

For anyone with any political knowledge (and believe me, I’m not one of them), it should be clear that such statements are a cheap way of diverting the attention of the public from current real issues of JPC probe into the spectrum scam, land scams in Karnataka, corruption and nepotism charges on BSY, corporate lobbying and so on and so forth (too many to even list here) 

PC, you need a break! 

Also read: Editorial published in The New Indian Express

To Secret Santa.. With love

Disclaimer: If you are not an IIJNM student who’s reading this, you’re not going to understand a word of what is to follow. If you still want to kill time and enter the land of confusion, please do so. Meanwhile, here is a link you might be interested in. Enjoy!



Dear Secret Santa,

Ok. So you're driving me pretty crazy. For one, you always visit my room when I’m busy doing the only two things I do here when I get free time [By free time, I mean completely free time sans homework/readings/assignments/presentations/fiction and non-fiction reading/contemplating/bitching et al]. And that is talking on the phone (which has considerably reduced due to economic reasons) and sleeping (which can never reduce because of whatever reasons). I’d like to interrupt this post with something profound I read this morning:


“I love to sleep. My life has a tendency to fall apart when I'm awake, you know.”


~Ernest Hemingway (My God from today) :-D

So, anyways...


First, I dislike gift(s).
Second, I dislike working so hard for my gift(s) *winks*


Yesterday I get a letter from you asking me to go the water cooler at the mess hall to get my next clue for the gift.
By the time I had even read the letter, it was way too late in the night. I had to go to the mess anyways to fill my bottle. I did not find any clue there and I walked back up nonchalantly thinking of my Treasure Hunt days back in school and how I used to suck at them.


I slept off only to see yet another letter on my table by you.


This time the instructions read as follows: “You have to write a blog about a homosexual, Jesus Christ and draw comparison to Albus Dumbledore.”


I’m sorry...WHAT?


First, I get an instruction to write a blog (I don’t need that. I blog nevertheless)


Second, I’m given a specific topic for it (What is this? Creative writing competition?)


Frankly, I don’t even mind that as long as the “topic” is relevant, interesting and something I know and/or care about.


Third, you (thankfully) don't really know much about me. One look at my table and the books displayed on them should have told you that I do not read science-fiction.
Why, when I read the letter this morning, the first thing I thought was: “Who the hell is this Albus guy?” Turns out he is this chief protagonist in the Harry Potter series *scratches head*


My dear Secret Santa: I Hate Harry Potter. And that’s a hate with a capital H. Tried reading a couple of times when I was too young to differentiate between different genres of books. But I gave up. I did a Wikipedia search on Mr. Albus and they gave me shit load of stuff to read. Clearly, I refuse to do that when there are millions of other books left dying to be read, consumed and devoured by me. This is a personal opinion. I’m sure there are millions of Potter fans. I respect them. But I do not belong to them. Peace!


So, Santa...you asked me to blog on Christ, homosexuality and “draw comparison” (Satan knows what that means!) with this Albus guy.
For one, I did blog (so, you should give me points for that).
Second, I gave you so much publicity on my blog (which, you’ll be surprised to know, but is read by many Turkish men and women).
And third, I have already ranted about 623 words so far (which is way beyond what I set my target as).

So, I end this letter with the sincere hope that you shall not extract anymore labour from me.

P.S. Waiting for Christmas more than ever now :-)

Ho Ho Ho!!


With Love,
Deepa

Fiction writing (Part 3)

This is the concluding part of the three-part fictional prose:

Part 1

Part 2

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Everyday he thinks of ways to slay her. There are too many ways and too less time.

Should he slit her throat? Stab her at the back? Strangle her with a pillow? Or just stare her to death?

He’s often tried the latter. Been successful too.  But she doesn’t die. She refuses to. Or perhaps, she carefully plans not to.

Why does he want to kill her?

Does he even need a reason? It’s not a question of want anymore. It’s a necessity. A requirement.  

She’ll die tonight. He knows she will.

And he placed the gun on his forehead and pulled the trigger. 

Concluded

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Of mercy killing and euthanasia

EUTHANASIA, also known as assisted suicide and mercy death, is the intentional killing by act or omission of a dependent human being for his or her alleged benefit.



Euthanasia is a Greek word meaning ‘good death’ and refers to the practices of ending life in a painless manner.


It is illegal in India and most countries of the world. Only ten odd countries have legalised the practice of mercy killing.

Source for the above: Here
Hindi: Ichcha Mrityu


Tamil: Thalaikoothal (well, not really...but more on this later)






So, what prompted me to write about euthanasia? It was something I was itching to read and write about since our Amphi Adda days. Add to that, the recently released movie Guzaarish that centres on euthanasia (aka Ethanasia in the movie) directed by Sanjay Leela Bhansali who ensures his audience is reminded that he also made Black—a fact that will be reiterated time and again when you watch this thanks to its cinematography and a few of the characters. Well, this post isn’t to criticize or review the movie (I’ve done that at length on another platform) but to understand the legalities and complexities that surround euthanasia.


Simply put, it allows an individual to voluntarily decide to end his/her life which is legally supported by the law of the land. In India and under the Indian framework of law, it amounts to murder. But, people supporting euthanasia, comprising of a chunk of social activists and human rights upholders, claim that such a wish should be granted as it is not technically “murder” due to the fact that it’s voluntary. When the individual himself has felt the need to terminate his life in all his senses, it is assumed that he has arrived at such an extreme decision only after thoroughly analysing his physical condition. Perhaps intense suffering led to this decision; death seems a simpler way out than days, months and years of pain. So, the tussle, really, is between slow death and intense death. The bottomline is death.
However, there is another school of thought that believes that mercy killing is just a fancy word for suicide, which is illegal and punishable under Indian Law (and in other countries as well). It is a violation of the fundamental Right to Life guaranteed under Article 21 of the Indian Constitution. Another argument against mercy killing is that lawyers allege that it may be misused for acquisition of land, money and property.


When talking about India, one also has to look into the social and cultural context. Tehelka recently reported cases of horrifying deaths in Tamil Nadu that have shocked many to know about the existence of ritual deaths in a country that’s already fighting honour killings (God knows whoever invented that name!). The report talks about ritual murders assisted by the family members themselves who aid in attaining the death goal of the suffering patient, who doesn’t seem to mind the generosity exhibited by his family members. The practice, as the report suggests, is not confined to a particular community, caste or religion. More than a crime, it is a social custom, which means it is an accepted practise. So, shoudln't we, as sensible citizens, question the very practise that comes up with bizzare ways of literally killing people and aiding them towards death?

Guzaarish faced legal petition on the accusation that it glorified mercy killing. Well, for one, Bhansali chose a controversial topic. And, secondly, legal action is nothing new in a country that pounces on a movie like Billu Barber terming the name as derogatory. The point is not whether mercy killing was glorified. The point is what is wrong in glorifying it? Is it equivalent to glorifying suicide which is unanimously agreed as something condemnable, as it amounts to abusing life and is seen as an act of the coward? What separates suicide from mercy killing is the fact that in most cases, the latter is a consequence of several weeks of medical examination which have resulted in almost no improvement of the patient’s condition. In many cases, medicine doesn’t have an answer. And terminal illness really has no cure.


Thus, what needs some serious introspection is what compelled the individual to take this extreme decision? Are our senior citizens getting the rights that they deserve? Are they being well-taken care of? Are we lacking in well-equipped medical facilities? Is it the health sector that needs immediate attention and renovation or the Indian Law that does not grant an individual to treat his life the way he wants? What is the real problem here? Law? Or the health sector? That's some food for thought.

P.S. I'm still not sure about my stand on this as this seems like a much more complex issue than what it looks like.


For more basic information on euthanasia, do visit this site. It is US-based but will surely give you a perspective.
Happy reading and happy thinking! : )

Fiction writing

So, while the world is busy blogging on BarkhaGate, 2G Spectrum Scam, Manmohan Singh's impotency as a PM, even Ms. Dolly (of BigBoss fame) who has (un)surprisingly stolen the limelight,  I'd stick to what I think I enjoy doing the most-weaving stories out of thin air :-)

Following is a magazine assignment I wrote wherein we had to write a personal story on someone you met who changed your life. 

Personally, I don't think anyone in my life has changed it any large way. Not yet. And, not at least a person yet. Maybe watching someone, looking at something, reading on something might have changed the way I look at things, my broader perspective on life, in general. But, I think I'm usually careful enough not to let my thoughts wander in that direction, if you know what I mean.

Anyways, here's the personal story I wrote. Well, its not entirely fake/fictional. Parts of it are true (and there may be a few who might get the connection of this fictional piece with the reality of my life). And as they say, fiction is inspired from reality. 

Happy reading :-)

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She looked too happy to be in a hospital. It is precisely because of that seemingly positive expression on her face that made my mind divert from the pain I was going through. For someone who had been diagnosed with Leukemia (from what I got to know much later), she had a distractingly calm expression on her face and looked as if she had simply chosen to ignore that glaring fact.

If you are wondering what was I doing there, let me make it clear that that a  hospital is not one of my favourite places to hang out and just stare at people who’ve been bruised, hurt, diagnosed with some unpronounceable disease or deadly virus. I happened to be there because I had met with an accident, owing to my own foolishness and haste. In a space that could possibly be the most melancholic, sad and unhappy environment, Zooni seemed to be out of place.

This was probably the first and the worst accident of my life. And I had been punished for not having worn a helmet. A collision with a speeding car had resulted in my current form—six stitches on my left knee, a fracture on my nose, a couple of bruises on my cheek and three more stitches on my chin—enough to complete the distorted version that I had become. It had been almost six days in the hospital now and I had begun hating anything that began with H. The very atmosphere of my ward depressed me to the core. The accident had caused a heavy blow to my self esteem. I had missed my mid-semester exams because of the damage done to my body. And the doctor later informed me that I also had to give the Inter-State Swimming Championships a miss, thanks to my current state. Every time I looked into the mirror, I felt like breaking it into a million pieces as I couldn’t even recognize who I saw there. I was almost bordering over committed pessimism. Until I met her.

Zooni looked younger to me. But she wasn’t. She occupied the bed right next to me. So, there was no way I could avoid her sight. Every day the doctor would come and do some random check-ups, of which I had neither the knowledge nor the patience to ponder over. The doctor would ask her questions weaved in medical jargon (I was too occupied with my own troubles to even bother about others). She always looked amused at my irritated outbursts which were usually directed at my doctor, nurse and mother who used to visit regularly and monitor my ‘progress’. And Zooni’s amusement irritated me even more.

After weeks of staying in what I saw as the most morose environment, when the doctor finally declared that day for my discharge, I couldn’t stop myself from asking Zooni. What made her so happy? How could she remain so? Wasn’t she suffering? And if she wasn’t, what the hell was she doing in this hospital? Her response to all these questions was but one. “I know when I’m going to die. I want to enjoy whatever is left of my life,” she said with a vehemence I could see in her eyes.

“It just amazes me how little things in life can manage to irritate and frustrate you so much. How you let them win over you. You have an entire life in front of you. Can’t you be happy with the fact that you survived that accident to actually be alive to crib about life? And when you are alive, what’s the point of complaining?,” she asked. It wasn’t the questions but the sheer confidence with which she asked them that rendered me speechless.  

Here was a woman who knew when she was going to die and who, ironically, seeked amusement at the petty things in life that I complained and fretted about. I, who still had something that Fate had denied her—life. I was later told that she was diagnosed with blood cancer (leukemia) and had less than few months to live. I never heard of her later. I never even visited the hospital after that. But she left a mark on my life. She taught me how to look at things positively and ushered in a new era of optimism in the way I began looking at things since then. This happened over a year ago and I’m sure she isn’t alive anymore. But, I don’t feel sad or gloomy or upset about it. I’m glad I met her. And I’ll always be thankful for the woman who taught me the real meaning of “life”. 

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I expect heavy criticism (and maybe a word of compliment, if that isn't too much to ask for?) after you've read this.

Feel free to comment.

Cheers! :-D

Of media, ethics, corruption and "error of judgement"

Barkha Dutt answers allegations of corruption and corporate lobbying in this 48 minute unedited video that was aired on NDTV yesterday.

A MUST WATCH

Panelists include:

Manu Joseph, editor of Open magazine which published excerpts of Barkha-Radia conversation

Dileep Padgaonkar, senior journalist, The Times of India

Swapan Dasgupta, columnist and senior journlaist

Sanjaya Baru, Editor, Business Standard

Host: Sonia Singh, Senior Managing Editor, NDTV 24*7

P.S. For now, I shall refrain myself from giving my opinion/viewpoint on this issue due to lack of complete knowledge of the same.