A pretty thing called kindness

I’m always being told that I’m too timid and mild, even “too polite”. I’m told I should be more assertive, more aggressive about what I want and how I lead. Well, let me tell you a little story.

I had this friend in school, who was more like a rival. She lived close by so our parents were friends. Our parents would always pit us against each other in terms of our mark sheets. I really hated that. I was never keen on studies, never worked too hard at it. I was an average student and happy with it. I consistently scored 80% till 7th grade, after which the competition really intensified. And the more it intensified, the more I lost the will to compete and I started falling farther and farther behind this rival of mine. The more behind I fell, the more my mother taunted me, the more I was taunted, the more I hated this friend, until we stopped talking altogether. School was a long time ago and until recently, I still hated her. Come to think of it, she didn't exactly make matters easier for me in school either, because she was so competitive and mean to me when I fell behind.

So anyway, there was one thing about her that I never forgot, but pushed into my deep subconscious while I was consciously busy hating her. She had an elder sister who was severely mentally retarded. She was about 3 years older to us but always in a grade below because the school never promoted her. For the first time in all the years that I've known this 'friend', I wondered, how difficult it must have been to grow up like that. You cannot look up to your elder sister and your parents expect the world of you because you are their only hope. How do you live like that – answering questions from people about your sister, fighting their stares when she walks home with you after school with chalk scribbles all over her uniform. I just can't imagine it. And so, I decided to finally stop hating her. 'Be nicer than necessary, because everyone you meet is fighting some kind of battle'. It’s my new mantra.

During a post-grad class project, a group mate of mine threw away all the ads I had painstakingly prepared by pulling an all nighter after work and told me to make new ones in the most impolite manner. I was so infuriated; I would’ve smacked her right across her face if I could. But I decided to take the high road. Surely she must have been in some sort of a bad situation that was making her act this way. I told her, I'll make new ads. She apologised the next day and said she tends to get hyper under stress.

I'm always offloading my angst on my family. I guess everyone does that, but of late, it just doesn't seem fair. Every time I'd be facing any personal crises, I'd just clamp up and become really crabby towards my poor cheery mum and sister. The more they'd try to help me, the more I'd be rude to them, locking myself in my room or just screaming at them. Very bitchy of me, I know. But that was them understanding that I'm acting the way I am for a reason. They already knew the mantra before me. So you see, I've been on both sides of the coin.

I believe most conflicts can be resolved with some compassion and understanding. Everyone is fighting a battle. Just because you don't understand mine, doesn't mean I'll not do my best to understand yours. Just because you are mean to me, doesn't mean I'll be mean to you. I don't know how this whole philosophy fits into the larger order of things, and maybe it will turn me into a 'no-balls' pushover (which I suspect I already am). But for now, it just feels good to be compassionate. “There’s nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so”, I believe Shakespeare said that.

Wed-lock

15 years, 2 offsprings. The tears, the wailing, the threats, the curses that's all that seems to exist anymore.

How long has it been since you shared a laugh, high fived on a joke, embraced for no particular reason. 6 months? Or was it 10?

Bills. That's all you talk about anymore. No, not talk. Shout. Always the shouting. And the unceremonious slamming of the bedroom door. You don't seem to do anything right anymore.

How long have you been trapped in this unending nightmare? When was the last time you heard the tinkling of silver in her laughter or noticed the brown strands in his eyes?

Even the food feels like a monotonous drone. Has the country stopped producing everything but beans?

You'd love to walk away from it all. A long, long walk till you lose your way - stray away from the crankiness, the screaming children, the accusing eyes and the never ending barrage of bills. 

Oh how you'd love to keep walking. But the sun is about to set now. Where will you be when it gets dark?

MS Paint: Is this what Robert Frost spoke of

My experiments with combining MS Paint and humour. 

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.