i am his father you see...

i came across something really hilarious today...

there is apparently a law in US which prohibits parents from hitting their kids...at all...

so, once so happened that an indian father, who had gone to the US to earn money and had struck gold amongst the americans (with average intelligence judging from the choice of their president) had a son who was as vain and stupid as his fellows owing to his birth there...

this son was a wayward fellow with very little to do except lootaofy his father's wealth and sleep with different girls every night...

so one day, when his dad had too much...he went to the party his son was attending, boozing and dancing in, and gave one tight slap on his cheeks right in front of every other gora friend of his accompanied by one long lecture on his origins and traditions (not a single word of which was understood by the gora friends who were doing nothing but enjoying the fight and later on, getting bored with a fight not even in their own language)...

he then dragged the son by his ears and threw him into his room, with the warning 'aaj ke baad ghar ke bahar kadam bhi rakha to taange tod ke haath me de dunga...samjha...'

now you must be wondering what the freedom loving son was doing all this while...

the son, till now kept quite with occasional utterings of american slangs and verbal abuses which were so fast and inaudible that he father had not bothered to listen to them...but now, when he was left to the solitary confinement...he took out the latest weapon of the youth, the mobile phone and called another of his gora friends whose father happened to be a lawyer...

now, an hour later the police of the great america was at the doorstep of our Indian parent, just when he was contemplating the release of his son from solitary confinement at the behest of his wise who was constantly uttering, 'aap bhi na...mere hi bete ke peeche pade rahte ho...'as if her husband's son was supposed to someone else! the police came and arrested the father on the complaint of the son that he was physically abused and humiliated by his father in front of his friends...the father, speechless had no other option but to follow the american police outta his own very door man!

after one whole month of imprisonment, the father came out of jail when his son took the complaint back (ofcourse at the behest of his mother who again was saying 'tum bhi na...kaisi kaisi baato ka bura maan jate ho...') the moment he came out, he called his travel agent...'two tickets for mumbai, tonight's flight immediately'...

the tickets were booked and the father and son duo boarded the plane... (dad, why are we going there? there would be no McD's ya man...come on...so hot! so dirty! etc etc. the dad kept mum)

they reached mumbai...(when are we going back dad! come on man... you don't even answer me!)

airport of mumbai...father and son come out... (man...it's so freakin' hot here...i dint even get ma laptop and i-pod man...this place is so backward man...)

as soon as they touch the bare soil of mumbai, (dad, i will call the police if you don't answer me right now...) the father turns around and strikes one, two and three slaps on his son's red americanized cheeks...

people nearby rush to the boy's help and ask the father, 'what happened? why are you hitting him?? shall we call the police???' to which the father answered...' i am his father, aur mujhe ise maarne ka poora hak hai...'... the crowd realised, 'you are his father! oh, then we are sorry...please continue...do chaar aur lagaa dijiye...zaroor kuch kiya hoga...shakal se hi Bush ka santaan lagta hai...india me bacche maar maar k hi seedhe hote hai...'

now what would that mean?

i open this topic to the house....

the love of anonimity...

people love being anonymous right?

I do too...

the excitement of hiding behind the cloak of temporary invisibility is too good to be missed...

be in a secret love letter that you found addressed to you on your doorstep signed 'forever yours' or be it a comment on your blog...anonymosity sets pulses racing i must say...

there are a number of benefits however...no fear of rejection from the girl you addressed the letter to, no fear of a beating from her brothers, an excitement that satisfies you almost like food satisfying hunger, no fear of being politically incorrect in some blog or the other! oh...it has so many plus points...

i wish i could be anonymous here as well...

but pity, i have to write out some of the feelings that i genuinely feel...and they would no longer be mine without madri being attached to them...

so all those anonymous people who write here....

i love you for reading my stuff...

keep posting and commenting...

its for me i write and sometimes...probably for the love of being you too...

an 'ass kisser'?

foul language, i agree...

but could not help it...

the anguish that this topic fills me up with is incomparable...

india has the largest population of youth in the world...

and the largest BPO industry...

that day, one of my very close friends was being grounded by his two elder brothers because he dared to speak out and oppose the unhumanly treatment meted out to him back in his call center...

this is your first job beta...that's why you are on heat...wait and watch...as you settle down 'saara josh thikaane aa jayega'...'now its all right, but once you think that you want to rise above this current position, you would calm down and listen...

the elder brother was 26 years old..still eligible to be called a youth i guess??? is that the mentality of the country's 26 year old?

i know, that is what is practical...but what the heck is the use of a job if you have to pawn your self esteem for it? what the heck is the use of a job if by the end of the day you cannot look at your face in the mirror? what is the use if a job if by the end of the race you still remain a rat?

everyone in today's world is compromising on their self esteem...
today you are a team member, listen to 10 abuses, do not oppose and sometime tomorrow you are the team leader...
today you are a team leader, listen to 10 more abuses, do not stir from you seat even and sometime tomorrow you are the quality controller
today you are the quality controller, listen to 10 all the more abuses, do not get provoked and sometime tomorrow you are the Assistant vice president...
today you are the assistant vice president, kiss 10 more asses and who know, tomorrow they might just become partners to your new business venture!

but today you are the boss of some company...after listening to at least a hundred abuses and kissin as many asses, but you realise what kind of a seld esteem you have...looking into the mirror...there won't be one thing you would be proud of...result frustration...and then? ofcourse! now you have a company and 1000 people under you to kiss your ass! go ahead dude! enjoy the exploitation!

that seems to be the vicious circle...

i guess it is not enough to watch RDB, we got to act on the ideologies as well...

until and unless we are able to look into the mirror by the end of the day and say that yes, i still am my own master, we are not humans...turning into ass kissing automatons seems to be the latest success mantra,but we gotta remember that

paisa to koi bhi kamaata hai, izzat kamaake dikhao to jaane...

aur agar kamaa nahi sakte to kam se kam lutaa ke mat aao, kahi aur kaam aa jayegi...

granted the are the unbeatable side...but they have grown unbeatable in a lots of other things than cricket...be it atrocious on field behavior, unfair play, un-sportsmanship, un-gentlemanliness, irritating and annoying attitude or to put it straight, simple snobbishness and an unnecessary 'attitude' the aussies score handsdown...

i do not understand why they are treated like the spoilt child of a despot who would execute anyone who dares to put the boy straight...it seems the whole cricketing world is scared of punter and his boys...they sledge, no problem, part of the game...we sledge, breach of conduct of players, they make wierd atrocious gestures, player's aggression, we celebrate the fall of a wicket or appeal, over-riding the limit given to players...they appeal, it's out, we appeal, not out...even celebrated umpires like bucknor have fallen prey to 'australiocitis' the fear of marking the aussies wrong.

They are almost like the holy cows of indian politics, who are never wrong...

oh please, gimme a break...

it is time the world gathered up some courage (take lessons from sree and bhajji) and played the game like the aussies want us to...they are now freaking rulers of the cricket world...and in times, when we can see decisions going glaringly in favor of the australians again and again, i doubt whether they are fairly, the world champions or not...

i am certain that the aussies are losing in a game that is constantly turning out to be one among equals...

falling titans...

Heroes are so important in anyone's life. Especially in a child's life. Every child some day or the other grows up to either change his heroes according to changing priorities, or realize that his heroes were not heroic enough, had flaws and sometimes, more painfully, have crashed. It is perfectly healthy and normal when children go through the first two phases, but the last is the most painful and unhappy time of any child's life. I have seen friends and cousins go through such phases, break down and undergo humongous personality changes. This article is for me to realize how fortunate I am to have uncrushed heroes and peace. It's a piece of thankfulness to Life, for making it possible.

Heroes make life so much easier for kids. When some think that they would be saved from falling skyscrapers by Spider Man, Super Man or Shaktiman, there are kids who imagine these superheroes as their mothers or fathers. A huge friend circle, a family of 8 uncles and 6 aunts and almost 30 cousins and most importantly, an experience of a short, but significant 21 years of my life tell me then super dads and super-mums crash, it hurts the most. There was a friend whose father was having an affair with another woman. When found out, she expected and wanted, more than anything, her mother to go all the way and file a divorce. But when the father apologized, the mother forgave giving the reason that a wife is never really complete without the husband and ‘daddy is really sorry beta’ as if being sorry could wash out the scar and ‘everything was well’, her heroes crashed. Her father was always the hero in her life, a man who was the perfect husband, father and man. And her mother was the epitome of liberation and emancipation, being self sufficient. To discover that the hero was a common ordinary man, prone to weaknesses and the heroine, a common ordinary woman unable to take a stance of her own devastated her. Being a recluse, she had only me as a friend and confided everything in me. When she maintained an ‘oh-i-am-so-happy-for-mum-and-dad’ attitude in front of a guilt stricken parents, I saw her break down. Life was the most difficult for her as she had to live two separate lives, one of which was an entire secret. She lost her old self, and most importantly, she lost her faith in the institutions of faith, marriage, love, respect and above all, parental heroism. It incident had a marked influence on her, especially when she found years later again that her father had never really apologized and the affair had gone on. Even though she felt agitated and anguished, betrayed and angry, she never had the courage to face another downfall. I never knew what she did about this, or her parents. She soon left the country to make a life of her own in Nairobi, with an NGO, never to return.

I never could decide who was in the wrong here. The father for engaging in liaisons, the mother for forgiving them, the daughter for believing that neither was possible, or more so, the entire cult that makes parents the holy cows of a child’s life that he/she has to, inevitably fall in love with. Many will argue, as those with whom I discussed the matter of parental heroism before sitting down to write this do, that humans have to be forgiven for mistakes, no matter how big; because it is only then , that life can go on. Grudges make life miserable, and after a revenge is complete, there is generally nothing to live for. That makes things more difficult. Human frailties are the reason why we are here today (remembering Eve).

But even after all the reasoning in favor of ‘forgiveness’ I can’t help but be sure that the man who said ‘to err is human and to forgive is divine’ must have been the greatest sinner of all times…seeking forgiveness for his entire race of wrong doers from another race which doesn’t have the guts enough to seek revenge, or at least, an explanation.

Oh! It’s all so complicated! I am not even sure where to take this article to, in whose favor. Seeing this, it makes me all the more thankful to God for giving me uncrushed heroes. My father is the ‘man’ anyone could long for, a hero, a problem solver, a warrior and my mother is the damsel-never-in-distress. I just hope, it remains such and I do not have to face the dilemma of forgiving anybody, ever…because probably, I never would. Whatever…

Thank you God for making my life uncomplicated and not giving me anyone to forgive.

Thank you God for giving me heroes that can be loved.

Thank you God for mum and dad.

Thank you God for Everything.

where does the average stand in india?

my brother jumped off the first floor yesterday...dad went and picked him up, with ofcourse, two more slaps as to why at all he jumped...he never listened long enough to know the reason of the first act...my brother, was frustrated...i am too...

unfortunately for my brother, he is an average chap...in india, that necessarily means being an average in studies. he is a terrific tennis champ...'no use' screams middle class indian mentality...he is a great musician...'no use' screams middle class mentality...he simply is not interested in studies...'useless, moron, idiot,' screams the middle class mentality...

the result...being some sort of a rebel, brought up with some sense of indian respect for parents, and constant nagging and insulting of my mum and dad happened to be a lethal combination for the poor chap...and bearing the slaps and boxes from dad, all he could do was jump...

i wish, TZP was made at least 10 years back so that, my brother could have been saved...he never found the time to hone his skills with the stuff mum kept telling him...

i have always resented parents wanting their wishes to be fulfilled by their sons and daughters...i have been coward enough not to tell this to ma and pa... help me...help me save my brother...help me save ma and pa from the pain of losing their son...and daughter...because unforunately again, i am not average...and feel the pain all the more...

oh...by the way, brother is fine now...back to studies and as ma says, 'sincerely'