I'm not sure about the brand

So much for aggressive advertising.

**Some Brand** Spot Eraser Pen: You notice the spots, not the fairness, right?

Tanvi (after seeing the ad) : Eraser hai ki pen hai?

Me: *rofl*

Of corruption and hunger

There's a lot of support for Anna Hazare, online and offline. While I don't know if the people who are really supporting him, offline, know what he's fasting for, I know for a fact many people are clicking on "Like" beause everyone else did so and because it's against our scammy government. "He's protesting against corruption," is the general perception. True, but a hunger strike has to be for something more specific. No government officer or politician is going to think, "I won't take this bribe because Anna Hazare is fasting,". So here's what he is really protesting for:

The Lokpal Bill. Or to be more specific, the Jan Lokpal bill. It's like an ombudsman. From the Times of India:

  The Lokpal will be a three-member body with a chairperson who is or was a chief justice or Supreme Court judge, and two members who are or have been high courts judges or chief justices. Anyone, except for a public servant , can file a complaint and the Lokpal has to complete the inquiry within six months. 


 The Lokpal bill is regularly being presented in Parliament since 1968, and it has regularly been shown the door, the commonest reason being, "There is room for improvement."
As it turns out, there definitely is room for improvement, though not in the way the politicians meant. Wikipedia might help:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lokpal#Differences_between_Draft_Lokpal_Bill_2010_and_Jan_Lokpal_Bill
In short, the Jan Lokpal bill gives the Lokpal more powers. Not very appeasing for our netas so someone has to go on a fast.

If you haven't experienced a sudden burst of energy and interest in pending bills, the gist is this: The fast isn't misplaced. Anna Hazare deserves your support. We don't deserve corruption. I hereby permit you to "Like" guiltlessly. 

Disillusionment

Today I heard about this pregnant woman whose husband threatened to leave her if she gave birth to a daughter.  I'm losing faith in my country. I don't believe there's any hope for anything left. People will continue discriminating against women, against the lower castes, against people who speak a different language, have a different culture, follow a different religion. Nothing's working. You can frame millions of policies, educate people, pay them to not discriminate, but nothing will change. Discrimination makes people happy. It feeds their ego, it makes them feel secure. Caring for others? Helping them? Not unless there's something in it for me.
It's not just about India. You can form a hundred United Nations, protest for peace, rally, march, do whatever you can, but countries will keep bombing one another, half the world will never see anything but poverty, freedom of speech will be curtailed, sometimes discreetly, sometimes unabashedly, hypocrites will remain hypocrites, people will continue exploiting other people, and the greater good will always triumph justifying countless acts of violence in its name.

None of it matters.







India won the World Cup. I saw the match.

To the internet

links beyond links

and links after those

some culminating in a rhyme

and occasionally in a complaint

some meeting a talking camera

and travelling with it

some walking with a censorious glance

and arriving at a passion

some, simply unoccupied

harmlessly addicted.

all of them together

a web of links

connected by their humanness

there is a god.

Many things can make me believe that there is someone who can make sense out of the world. Unexpectedly, blogs did that to me today. Perhaps I haven't come across a bad blog yet; but the more blogs I go through, the more I realise how many good hearts are beating out there, how many people work or at least want, to change what they do not like, how sadness always graduates to happiness and how that happiness is always there, like a talisman. I realise how many people are writing instead of picking up a gun or even shouting at someone. And suddenly, I see that all of them are similar: possessing similar angst, similar love and similar energy, and I know, there is a god.

Antilla

We were visiting a friend's house the other day, because he was ill. He didn't look the part, and not finding much to sympathise about, we began joking around, checking Facebook (yes, it is the end of the world if you check Facebook when all your friends are right beside you), and also, staring out of the window. One of our stares registered Antilla, Mukesh Ambani's residence, the one he built for his wife. The building reminded me of a particular paragraph from a particular book:

"The residence of Mr. Peter Pett, the well-known financier, on Riverside Drive, New York, is one of the leading eyesores of that breezy and expensive boulevard. As you pass by in your limousine, or while enjoying ten cents' worth of fresh air on top of a green omnibus, it jumps out and bites at you. Architects confronted with it reel and throw up their hands defensively, and even the lay observer has a sense of shock. [...] It is a house that is impossible to overlook; and it was precisely for this reason that Mrs. Pett insisted on her husband's buying it, for she was a woman who liked to be noticed."

Doesn't this excite you? Don't you notice the similarities?

1. Mumbai is a lot like New York. Or isn't it? It must be.
2. Antilla is one of the leading eyesores of south Mumbai.
3. Architects confronted with it do reel.
4. It does bring on a sense of shock.
5. It is impossible to overlook.
6. Mr. Ambani bought it (built it, same difference) for his wife.

Also take note of the discrepancies:

1. Mr. Ambani is more than just a well-known financier.
2. You don't pass by in your limousine in Mumbai. You halt every two minutes on account of the traffic.
3. The buses are red, not green; and you'd be hard-pressed for fresh air. No offence to BEST, though. It is a perfectly efficient and well-managed bus service.
4. There is no writer to equal Wodehouse in Mumbai or anywhere else in the world.

P.S. For those wondering where Wodehouse enters the equation, it's because the afore-quoted paragraph has been written by him. The book is called Piccadilly Jim.

It's Okay

"it's okay

it's going to be fine

look at the bigger picture

look at the future i am colouring

for you, so you would do this for me

just this once

and i won't tell you about my eraser

i won't admit i have it

i will accuse you of having one

and who can blame me?

what you don't know can't hurt you

if it does

i won't be there to see you cry

and crying's good for you, isn't it?

i will pretend i care

i won't tell you i am a great actor

let's just run to the finish line, baby

there's nothing else to do

you don't want to? fine. now you do?

it's okay, it's okay

it's going to be fine"

you say all this to me

i listen to you

and i tell myself

it's okay

it's going to be fine