MS Paint: The introverted sheep - II

My experiments with combining MS Paint and humour. 

MS Paint: The introverted sheep - I

My experiments with combining MS Paint and humour. 

Spark a change - How about we DON’T reinvent the wheel?

A lot has been said and done about how there is a dire need for women’s empowerment. And yet, in a country as progressive as India, the condition of women is still, for want of a better word, backward. Before this blog starts to seem like just another preachy article, I’m going to quickly cut to the chase.

I believe employment empowers a person like nothing else. Yes, education is important and the need for women’s literacy can never be articulated enough. But, quite frankly, literacy is a grass root problem. The solution I’m offering is of a more immediate nature – to empower the great number of mature women in the lower strata of the society.

The thought: 

Almost every girl in the lower middle class society is hardwired to believe that her primary responsibility is cooking, cleaning and looking after the family; work and employment is secondary. Hence, practically every girl in this society is taught how to cook at a very early age. Women, in general, are considered better cooks than men (you never hear anyone missing “papa ke haath ka khaana”). Why is it then that most cooks and chefs in restaurants are men? And I don’t just mean the fine dining restaurants, even in your local Udipi restaurants, lunch homes or even bars, the cooks are always men.

The solution:

If we could just replace all these male cooks with female ones, it’ll open up a huge source of employment for women.

Advantage to employer: 

Women don’t have to be trained to cook, they’ve been doing it since the time they could light a match. The right salt and spice proportion is second nature to them. Hence, zero training expenditure.

Advantage to employee: 

Even if they’ve never held a job in their lives before, these women don’t have to feel nervous because they’ll just be working behind the scenes doing what they do every day!

The execution: 

Have an NGO portal listing all these ladies with amazing culinary skills that are looking for employment. Approach small restaurants and give them visiting cards and pamphlets so that whenever a vacancy comes up, help is just a call away.

So really, it’s a win-win situation. I’m aware that this concept has already been explored by Lijjat and the dabba services folk, but I’m just suggesting a different spin on it. So there you have it, my two-cents on sparking a change.

It might seem too matter-of-fact and un-emotive a blog, but sentimentality would not solve the world’s problems, practicality would. Hain na?

Blur

So fast, too fast, my head's in a whirl

Not stopping, not looking, not a time in the world

He came, and left in the blink of an eye

No time to think, no time to cry

I'm running, I'm running through a blinding fog

Don't hate me, beloved, I don't notice my wrongs

Someday I will stop. Someday I will turn.

Someday all my sins will have me crash and burn.

Until then I'll run, this mindless race

Through sewage and skies, I'll race to my grave.

Somebody that I used to know

Where did I find you? I asked
Why, I was right behind you, he said
Right behind me? Why?
So you can touch the sky

Oh, so you'll be my wings?
No, you're the kite and I hold the string.
So go ahead and fly, untethered and free
For if it gets stormy, I'll pull you right back to me.

For eyes speaketh

She had the eyes of death itself. No, not death. Death is kind. She had the eyes of purgatory. Almost like that of a small animal, a rodent that's designed to create havoc and spread ruthless diseases. The kind of horrible eyes of the cruel invilgator that caught you helping a friend out during an exam, or that of the unkind babu sitting behind his wooden desk looking at you through his beady eyes, telling you that you are screwed. And you ask me how can I distrust her without knowing her?

The green dot

Talk. Talk for talk's sake, but talk. I cannot handle the unblinking green light next to your name. I can't keep staring at it, wondering if you're doing the same. For if you are, I'll talk to you. I'll talk to you till I go hoarse. But please, my beloved, talk. Let me know you're thinking of me, that everything we had and shared, existed. I'm holding my breath now. I'll wait. I have to hear from you. It's killing me. You're talking to someone now, aren't you? I know it! You don't even see me. It's like school again, when I sat behind you, pining for your attention. When I carried an extra pencil hoping you'll want to borrow one. But my braces, my glasses, my sticky long braids became my invisibility cloak. But I have you now. We're soul mates. Can't you see? We're meant to be. I had to tell your girlfriend. She had to know! So why won't you talk to me? Talk to me. Talk to me. Talk to me.