It's Jaai

I have a love-hate relationship with A. R. Rahman. I love him because he made people forget a very popular nickname of mine: Jai Mata Di. I hate him because he gave me another: Jai Ho. (Pretend you know nothing about rap.)

The worst part is that I cannot legitimately blame anyone. My lawyer will simply look all crestfallen and tell me, in a nearly inaudible whisper, that my name is indeed spelt Jai. Officially. On all the documents that matter. But it is spelt Jaai on Facebook, I'll tell him loudly. What's Facebook? he'll say. I'll fire him.

I don't deny that it is an excellent conversation-starter.
Hi, my name is Jaai.
Zaai?
Yes.
How do you spell it?
J-A-I.
Jai?
No.
*awkward smile*

And this is how introdutions happen:
Hey, meet my friend Jaai. Her name is spelt J-A-I. *maniacal laugh*

Sigh. I'll get back at you all.

Image source: sosickofdebt.wordpress.com

What makes your life interesting?

Maybe it is because colleges are reopening shortly and I have done nothing at all of any consequence during the holidays, but I'm thinking a lot about whether my time on earth has been, will be, worth anything.

When one thinks about what makes one's life interesting, one usually remembers one particular habit, achievement, memory or person. What if that habit, achievement, memory or person did not exist? Would your life still be interesting? Would it, for example, make a fascinating, or at least inspirational, book? Have you any funny or thrilling anecdotes to one day tell your grandchildren? Could you rival How I Met Your Mother?

Philantrophy is a possible answer. I remember attending this Philosophy lecture where we all agreed that one good deed done everyday can make the world a better place to live in. It can also make your life a more eligible topic for conversation.

Image source: http://www.crestock.com/

How to get admission into the college of your choice

Or do anything at all, really. Five foolproof methods:


1.) Get caught by customs officials: Try to carry super-expensive shoes or sackfuls of jewellery out of the airport. Get investigated by customs officials and praise them for good measure. Get printed. Now you are famous enough to bag a management seat.

2.) Watch an India versus West Indies match: You'll immediately be catapulted into the rarest of rare status. Get in through the sports quota.

3.) Demand an environment quota: and insist you must get a seat though it because you wrote a blog post on World Environment Day.

4.) Throw a shoe at the admissions official, and miss: Not the expensive shoe you carried out of the airport, though. Get media attention and cry in front of the cameras. Say you are a journalist in the making. Your admission process will be magically completed.

5.) Go on a hunger strike: Ensure that you have less than 50,000 followers or the government will beat them up. Demand a fundamental right to admission in your preferred college. You'll get it.

Image source: www.jamespot.com

All that Baba-ness

Don't you see a similarity between Baba Ramdev advocating good morals and Chetan Bhagat writing an article on how to improve your English? I can, however, tolerate bad English much better than I can tolerate someone becoming rich in the name of spirituality.

As for accepting the support of Khap panchayats, that alone ought to discredit the Baba. The Khap panchayats directly order the cold-blooded killing of young people who marry within their gotra. Of course the government hasn't done anything about them, behaving as it is like a schoolteacher and grandmother rolled into one: you can't drink until you're 25 (that's just the Maharashtra government, I concede) and you can't ever marry according to your will.

Quitting the rambling, though, Baba Ramdev is behaving a lot like an unscrupulous politician, only caring about support and not about from where he gets it. The number of "jeeps arriving from Haryana" seems more important than his actual demands. We do have one thing to be thankful about: his farce lends more gravity to the Hazare campaign, perhaps because of the contrast.

Image source: www.newsyolk.com

It's raining, it's raining...

It's June, and the monsoons are almost here. In a few days the rain will drown every other sound. You will look out of your balcony and find the world mysterious and shrouded; only masked, though, because everything is still the same, people are going to work and going for movies.

There will be rain songs on the radio on the first day but you will eventually tire of them. Artists and poets will revel in the inspiration. A broken heart will run into many editions, quoting Oscar Wilde.

There will be people whose roofs leak and people who have no roofs at all, and these people will curse the rain. There will be children battling fever or something more sinister, and there will be children playing in the rain, laughing.

A few people will walk slowly in the streets, giving the rain every opportunity to cleanse them, praying for it to do so. Bikers feeling brave will fly past them. Trains will run with their doors and windows closed.

Colourful umbrellas will resist grey skies, and deep down, everyone will be glad, because the monsoons are eventful, and that is what this city thrives on.

P.S. : Deviating from usual policy, I am supporting violence: the death sentence handed out for an honour killing. Also traffic police being provided arms.