SECTION 49.0 IPC

I got this really interesting forward today ( yeah ,sure.. what else do I mostly do at work other than read the forwards I get ;) )... some of it I was aware of, while the rest I was not. Its typically directed against people like me who abstain from even showing their shadow near a voting booth.

I don't vote because I love ranting and raving against the corruption that is prevalent, the ridiculous quota systems that are to be introduced, the growing insecularity of our country, bad roads, free power, free colour Tv's and *blah, blah , blah*. And it makes life a lot more easy because no one can refute my arguments by making the simple statement, " You voted them in". Its simple for me to retort back,"But I didn't. I don't vote".

Just think about it. As long as I abstain from voting I can bitch about the government and the opposition in an impartial manner because my concience is free of the guilt of having bought those self same idiots to power despite being complete aware of their pretensions of being just, kind, fair and people serving over self serving. Were I to vote someone into power and they not fulfil the aspirations that I were to set for them( which anyway no sane person does - i.e. expect stuff) then more than being sorely disappointed I would have to feel lousy for having been one of the idiots responsible of having given that person the car, the bungalow, the crores, the eighth wife, the gold rings, the trips abroad,the slippers, the sarees, the money from gun sales,the money from stamp and fodder scams.. oh yes, crores and crores of money!!

Yeah , you can easily tell me that I am just a drop in an ocean, but I can retort back,"But every drop that makes the ocean counts.Were all of them to go on a strike, the ocean would be empty ;) ). Anyway ( I read this article that stops me from saying anyway(s) ), this is the article I wanted to bring to all of your notices.............


Among the reasons for poor voter turnout in the cities, particularly of the middle and upper classes, is the complaint that they have no real choice considering the poor quality of candidates and the poor public image of the parties these candidates represent. Secondly, many citizens believe that their votes are not really going to make a difference.

Since in the ensuing elections there is no provision for indicating rejection of candidates on the ballot, except by invalidating the vote by ambiguous voting - that is, putting the stamp on the line separating one candidate's name from another -- the Indian Liberal Group recommends a solution that already exists in the Conduct of Election Rules 1961. This not only gives reluctant voters a reasonable choice, but also ensures that their vote does make a difference.

Rule No. 49(O) in the Conduct of Election Rules 1961 says:

"Elector deciding not to vote - If an elector, after his electoral roll number has been duly entered in the register of voters in Form 17 A and has put his signature or thumb impression thereon as required under sub-rule (1) of rule 49L, decided not to record his vote, a remark to this effect shall be made against the said entry in Form 17A by the presiding officer, and the signature or thumb impression of the elector shall be obtained against such remark. "

Explanation: In other words, a voter can go to the polling station and tell the presiding officer that he/she does not wish to cast her/his vote. The presiding officer will make a remark that the voter does not wish to vote and take the voter's signature against his/her name in the register of voters (Form 17A). At the end of the day, the presiding officer will, in totalling the number of votes cast, also include the number of electors who refused to cast their vote. By doing so, voters make it clear to all political parties that they are not satisfied with the kind of candidates put up by them. Though they have done their duty as citizens by going to the polling station, they have not found anyone on the ballot paper who deserves their vote. This is the Protest Vote.

If large numbers of citizens exercise their franchise in this manner, political parties will be forced to be far more careful in ensuring they do not nominate crooks and criminals or incompetents as their candidates next time round. This in turn will see the emergence of honest and committed candidates getting into Parliament and state legislatures in the long run, thus leading the way to good governance. After the present elections have concluded, the Indian Liberal Group will press for the Protest Vote facility on electronic voting machines the next time round, so that voters have the option to say "None of the Above" after scrutinizing the candidates on the ballot.

The other factor thats involved with this 49(0) section is a scary section for the political parties.
Here's an example. Say there's a candidate standing in City A.
And say out of 100 people only 40 people turn to vote and out of that the Candidate recieves 30 votes. Then by rule, he's been declared as elected. But say, if out of the 100 people 70 turn to vote. and 30 people vote for the candidate and the other 40 people use section 49(0), to say i am not interested in anyof the candidate. Then if, the candidates vote(which the vote he got ie., 30) is less than the vote against him (under section 49(0) - which is 40), then by rule he would not be elected as winner and in turn he would not be able to participate in anymore further elections. And the election for CITY A will be re-held with fresh candidates. Now that sounds great handle for people!!

And i hope that's why many people dont know about section 49(0) and the politicians and the goverment still tries to keep it a hidden secret.

BEGGARS CAN BE CHOOSERS!!

You know what? The person who coined the phrase ' Beggars can't afford to be choosers' deserves to be hanged and quartered. That has to be the most inappropriate, irrelevant and incorrect phrase I have ever heard. Beggars are some of the choosiest people I have had the misfortune to meet!!

Wonder why I seem to be fuming, ranting and raving about beggars?
Because I had this really strange,hilarious yet humiliating experience with a beggar lady last night.

My friends and I had gone for dinner to this place called 'Eden'. After our meal we were standing below and exchanging meaningless nothings when this old woman came begging for money. I normally have this strict policy of not giving money to beggars.It's not that I don't pity them. I do. But I admire the honest living of a ragpicker more than the aimless existence of a beggar. I give money to really old people,people who are maimed and to kids who sing on trains or sweep compartments and ask for money in return for services rendered.In the latter cases especially, there does exist a satisfaction of money well given 'cause you do recieve value for your money- a refrain or a marginally cleaner compartment.I never give money to people who look like they could earn it.

Anyways, getting back to the point, this old lady came up to us,knocking her cane against the pavement and asking for money.I guess the good food ( the Food at Eden is awesome!! )made me mellow.So I dug into my handbag, hunting for some coins to give to her.The ony thing I could find was one 50 paise coin and a couple of hundreds.Obviously I could not, or rather would not give her a hundred. So I thought , "what the hell? Every paise counts" and gave the coin to her. Imagine my chagrin when she said,"Ayyae!!8 Annas, keep it yourself.Take ( Ayyae! aet anna.Neiyae vaechukko. indha)".

I got so completely pissed off that when she reached the coin out to me, my mind rebelled and I reached my hand out and took the coin back from her and dropped it back into my bag instead of scurrying away from her in embarassment( As they expect you to do). A really cheap thing for me to do(: ) : ) but i'm quite proud of myself ;) ) but I seriously felt that the lady deserved absolutely no consideration from me.

Once a friend of my cousin's wife( just to be precise ;) ) told a small beggar boy to come to his house and he would pay him four hundred a month if he would be a gardener. And you know what the boy replied "Get lost.Just give me your money. Why should I work for you for four hundred when I earn thousands each month this way?".

You would think that a person who does not do a thing to earn their living has absolutely no right to sneer at the leavings of one who does.

That's why I think the person who invented the phrase 'Beggars can't afford to be choosers' deserves to be hanged and quartered.

THE OTHER KID BORN OF THE SAME BLOOD

I think the most horrific memory I have of my brother is the time I accidently dropped his inkpot.It crashed to the ground from his study table, the ink spreading across the floor. You could have mistaken it for blood if it were not for the colour.I remember feeling shit scared of what he would say.My fear was quite justified.After helping me clean the floor,he made me face the wall and rub my nose against it.Even a hundred apologies did not mollify him.At the end of half an hour when he finally relented and let me off from the wall I had already lost probably 10 layers of my skin.It was his turn to be horrified.Obviously. Dad got to know of the incident and I think blasted my brother.He didn't think the punishment merited the crime. Neither did I.Yet, I still had to go an entire term to school with a tanned brown face and a pinkish white nose. I'm surprised that I don't have the nickname 'Rudolph'.

My brother used to always delight in getting in me into trouble with my aunts and my grandmother. The same as I used to love getting him into trouble with Dad. It helped that Dad was mostly partial towards his younger daughter.There was this one time when my brother and me were eating Dosas at the table and he started sprinking his with Catch salt. Quick to imitate my brother in everything he did, I mimicked his action. No sooner did I begin, he shouted out, " Patti, look at what Deepti is doing!!!". My grandmother quick to support her sensible grandson and berate her scatterbrained grand daughter whacked me across my head and when I said, "But, it was Siddhu who told me to" admonished me for lying about my brother.It was always said by everyone, " I wish Deepti were more like Siddhu. He is sooo 'Samathu'( well behaving ) whereas Deepti is too naughty and always getting into trouble".They never bothered to try find out that quite a few of the scrapes I got into, I was ably led into them by him and while I was left holding the sword he would have long since sprinted away.

I paint a rather devilish,wicked and bullyish picture of my brother don't I? That he was. But I think he was also a lot more than that.

I remember all those times he was around to pull me out of all those terrible scrapes I would get into ( irrespective of whether he got me into them or not!!).The time when I was six and I lit a 50 walah holding it in my hand. He quickly lept, grabbed it out of my hand and threw it away just in the nick of time.He slapped me, but never complained to Dad about it.Or those times when I was eight and he was thirteen and we would travel alone from our grandparent's house to ours by bus ( some 20 kms).When the bus would be crowded, he would find me a seat to sit in and keep an eye on me throughout the journey.

But, more than any other incidents there are three that I will probably never forget.

When we were small,during my birthdays, after the party he would invariably take me to a shop and buy me 'Phantom Ciggaretes' as a birthday gift 'cause they were my favourite sweets.I adored him so much!!

The second was when I was three and he was eight.We were playing Holi in our apartment complex when I suddenly felt a shooting pain in my stomach. I pointed at another kid and tugging at my brother's kurta told him,"Anna, my stomach is paining.That boy he shot me". The boy in question was probably twenty feet away,just staring at us and by no stretch of anyone's imagination could have wielded a gun that could have sprayed me from that far away! Yet , my brother just to comfort me and stop me from being unhappy pointed his pichkari in that guy's direction and sprayed it a couple of times in the air and said, "There, now I have shot him too". Reminds me of that Surf Excel brother and sister ad.

The last one is the time when I probably had lost my calculator for the umpteenth time when I was in college.I was terrified of what my Dad would say.I was certain I was going to get screwed. I decided to ask my bro for a loan to buy a new one. He gave me this disgusted look and asked me, " why don't you just ask dad? He will blast you but will definitely get you a new one". When I told him that it was the second calculator I had lost in a year, he gave me this dry look and said "No. Why don't you just learn to face your stupidity?".A couple of hours later and a million under the breath raves and rants against my brother for being so insensitive, I found a brand new calculator lying on my desk and a short lecture on being more careful. I was amazed, yet touched.Never found the right words to thank him.

My brother is one of the most contradictory persons I have ever met. The birthdays I would ask him for a gift, he would tell me to get lost. Yet on the birthdays in which I didn't remind him off, I would find a gift lying on my study table and an indifferent, "Ah, Happy Birthday".

My brother has never been one for words. He would probably give me a disgusted look if I were ever to ask him if he cared about me. We don't really have anything to talk to each other about. I think its years since we had a decent conversation with each other.When we do talk our conversation is quite stilted and formal. Any stranger would be quite justified in thinking that we were just acquaintances if they were to overhear the kind of conversations we have.Yet none of it has ever really mattered to me. Because no conversation, no honeyed words of love, no hugs and kisses can replace what I do know that I have from my brother. Despite our indifference towards each other, I do know that I have someone I can always depend on when I'm stuck in a quagmire of shit.

P.S

Hey Bro! I know you never read my blogs. I probably will as usual get you a shirt or a music CD for your birthday the way I always have.But this is a special dedication to you for our 22.5 years of being bro and sis!! Happy Birthday, April 19th!!

INSOMNIA - FOR THOSE SLEEPLESS NIGHTS

Last night my uncle told me about an apparently true incident which had happened to his grandfather. Considering that my uncle is seventy right now, I think this could be placed as having happened in the 1800s.

I don't know if you believe in ghosts. To be honest, I really don't know if I do either.Here goes.....

If you were to observe carefully any town which had a river running through it, you would probably notice that there always is a bridge that spans across the river connecting its two disjointed halves with a burial ground on either side. Even during the day time the gushing sounds of the river as it strikes the bank is an extremely overpowering one. Imagine it in the night time. The moon shining bright in a cloudless sky. The dry smoke that mildly mists above the ground that remain as final traces of the corpses burnt that day. The sounds of the river are no more just overpowering; they are also unnerving and quite eerie in the contrast to the silence that suffuses the night sky.

It had struck eleven one night. Unusually I had just completed my work and was trying to find my way home.Reluctantly , a man agreed to drive me across the bridge after much persuasion. In those days the mode of transport was a miniature caravan led by two horses. The caravan was open ended on both sides. One side seated the driver while the other had an iron rod across its middle to prevent a passenger from falling off in the event of sudden jerks and pulls.

I sat in the caravan right at the end one foot folded underneath me while the other dangled down.I gazed outside admiring the beauty of the river in the nightime.It looked magical, lit by moonlight. We were probably halfway across the bridge when I saw this lady leaning at its edge, her palms covering her face, sobbing. From what little I could see , she was beautiful.Slim, shapely, with milk pale hands and feet and exotic black hair cascading down her back. I could not really see her face. But what peeped out her hands was captivating. I turned to the cart driver and asked him to stop so we could console her in her sorrow and probably offer her a lift to the town. He ignored me and continued to whip his horses. We had hardly crossed a furlongh when the lady turned towards us and just stared. I was stunned. The body of an angel , the face of an old hag. She started to chase behind our caravan. We were travelling quite fast so I did not pay much heed. But much to my consternation, she was running extremely fast herself and was coming close to catching up. When she came near she lunged trying to grasp my leg which dangled down the side of the caravan.

In all haste I quicky dragged my leg inside, and crept closer towards the driver, huddling at his side. The driver turning back told me, "Whenever a corpse is burnt in the graveyard this lady tends to roam the bridge.Whatever else, we never stop, ignore her and try to go as fast as we can. We try to avoid travelling by night , but since you seemed desperate to get home I consented". We looked back to see that the lady was now close enough to grab the rod at the other end of the caravan. The driver quicky drove his whip to the horses , urging them to go faster. The horses were old and lame ones. They struggled. In those days, the end of each whip had a nail attached to it. When the horses is whipped the nail marks its hide and the pain tends to spur the horse to reach greater speeds. A wicked practice I know, but what you are used to , you do not look in askance at that.

We were lucky that night. We reached the end of the bridge without the lady reaching us. I was terribly shaken. I never crossed any bridge after that in the night time.

DO POLITICIANS REALLY COMMIT SUICIDE?

A cousin of mine asked me to research her assignment topic ' Why don't politicians commit suicide?'. I agree, it is a complete rip-off from Chetan Bhagat's 'One night at a call centre'.But quite an interesting question to ponder on. These are just some random facts I collected...

Politicans who have committed suicide - total of b/w 40 -70 ( from Wikipedia)

Leandro Nicefero Alem - Argentina - Age 52 ( year of death 1896). He started a political movement called Radical Civil Union to overthrow the ruling government. His uprising against the ruling govt failed and his supporters and political followers deserted him. Unable to take what he felt as a betrayal he shot himself in the temple.

Viscount Castlereagh - Very unpopular politician who was reviled.But politically achieved a lot . Irish - Britain politician.Claimed he was being blackmailed for some perverse acts .. was asked to consult a physician( mental). Went back home and cut his throat with a letter opener.

John Christopher Cutler - Was S.Governer , Utah. Gunshot death at the age of 82. Reason - Ill heath plagued him and he wanted to end the pain ( significant - His death was at a very old age and his reasons extremely acceptable).

Most important ------

Adolph Hitler - When Soviet Forces entered Berlin in 1945, Hitler knew the war was lost and all that would face him would be torture and court martials etc.,So consulted his physician regarding the best way to kill himself. Married his GF Eva Braun on April 30th.
Same day , Eva and he killed themselves by the means of gunshot and cyanide. A potent combination.
These are a list of the politicians ( intersting ones) who have committed suicide. Interesting point among this ... is that a majority of them kill themselves by the means of gunshot. Reason ? As a politician are weapons easily accessible? Or the more honorary reason of a gunshot being heralded as being ' A HONORABLE SOLDIER'S DEATH'???? I think the latter personally.

Fact remains that the resort to suicide in the case of all of these politicians was more end all, than depression or unhappiness with life as such. The choice when all else paths do fail.

Questions I ask? Reasoning? Is it because the roads of a politician are paved with gold. They do not face bankrupty with all the money they swindle us off? Prestige , power ,bootlicking all theirs? When a student can kill himself over failing an exam , why does not a politician kill himself when he loses an election? What about that a large majority of politicians in India are faced with charges of murder, rape or at the least charges of corruption and bribery? Unlike common man they are always acquitted? The Jessica Lal case where the son of a ex Minister who shot her in a bar in the midst of many witnesses ..and 7 years down the lane they all turn hostile? So is suicide not an option because they always have ways out of any crisis they face?

Important and intersting article - In 2004, Amlashol Village , People were dying with lack of food , water after a crop failure. A politician called Sambhu Mandi told the press that the villagers would not die. That if the trees would not provide them roots, leaves and fruits the villagers could eat Snakes , Rats and Toads!???? An inhuman remark from an inhuman politician? You need to feel to kill yourself. Be capable of feeling those ups and downs in life???

Check out this article - www.spiked-online.com/articles/00000006DE6D.htm

About David Kelly, WMD Inspector, who killed himself recently. The author has some very intersting points. The press glorified his courage. The author says, " Since when did the point 'Only the good kill themselves' come true? Was Hitler good? Was Fred West good? ( serial killer ) Suicide is rarely heroic. It is the act of cowards ".

This statement gives weight to the other alternative. To become a politician requires endurance, stamina,cunning and perseverance.It is a great achievment. The achievments might not be heroic , might not be for the good of the country, but still it takes a lot to reach that point. There are many students who face exams . Not all kill themselves. There are those who thrive under the stress, are ambitious and do brilliantly. To become a politician - a successful known one, require that steel and ambition. Can you thus equate the politician with the student who thrives under stress and sets out to perform brilliantly?
Think it over.

THROUGH THE EYES OF THE VICTIM (BlankNoiseProject)

Is there any girl who lives who has not been harassed on the roads? I think not.Probably the first time ( which I am not ashamed to recount) I was harassed was when I was eleven years old. I can still recollect that day when an old man in a motorbike stopped me in the middle of the road, when I was walking back from school in the pretext of asking me for directions. No sooner had I given him directions ( not a word of which he heard), he told me," Don't you think you are too young to have breasts?" gesticulating towards mine. I was horrified.Before I could even scream out "Bastard" he had sped away. I remember going home that day, falling on my bed and crying all evening.I didn't have the courage to talk to anyone about it. For an entire week all I could think about was that horrid old man.You know what the worst part of being harassed when you are too young is ?


You are not indignant.
You are not outraged.
Instead, you feel ashamed.
Humiliated and ashamed of YOURSELF.

Like as if the sin was commited by the sinned not the sinner. It's like the attitude that some people carry towards rape. "She asked for it!".An oft heard remark.By the stupid narrow minded jerks in the world!

It was a couple of months later that my humiliation turned to outrage when a group of us girls gathered together and started speaking about it.The tales I heard were horrifying. We were all just eleven then and I guess the age where men know us to be vulnerable, innocent and unprotected. Too young for parents to worry about and too old to be protected by childish innocence.

One of my friends had been told to come to the back of a grocery shop to pick up what she had come for and when she went in, the grocer caught hold of her and started rubbing his hands up and down her chest.She had to bite him hard on his hand to escape and run away.I was onced offered a choclate by a shopkeeper if I came into his shop and saw the pictures he had.They were all pornographic and he did the same 'pinch on the chest trick'. Luckily there were four or five of us girls then.I wonder what would have happened if I had been alone? Another friend of mine had been stopped by a guy driving a car, again in the pretext of asking for directions. It was worse this time around.The guy had unzipped his pants and had semen coated on his hands and asked her " Do you know what this is? Shall I tell you what it is?".She cycled away as fast as she could from there.Another time when the same friend and me were skating in a skating rink at six in the morning alone, an old guy blocked our exit and removed his dhoti and started waving his penis at us.

Do you know what the one thing we all shared in common when we recounted these incidents was? We all of us blamed ourselves. Believed that the cardinal sin was comitted by us and not the perpetuator.Tell me one thing. Is it for this reason that children are targeted so much by these lechers? Because they know that we don't know how to react?

Pouring our hearts out was the best thing we ever did. I think we grew up overnight. Became wary and cynical.More watchful and distrustful of what every stranger said or did. Where previously we would smile winnningly at the stranger who patted our heads and butts, started to shie away and have that 'keep your distance' look in our eyes.Good. It atleast stopped us hurting.Kids do need to grow into adults.But incidents like this just help in hastening the transition.

The next year I joined Karate classes.Trained to defend myself.It helped that my Karate Sirs included kicks in the groin as a part of our lessons.They especially taught us girls how to defend ourselves and how to be watchful. It did help me.A couple of years later when a guy on a road reached out his hand to grab my breasts ( What is this obsession that guys have with breasts????? Is it that you don't have them??) ,I judged his intentions and knocked his hands off before he could succeed and walked away( I am yet to sum up the courage to walk THEM to the police station).Another time when my friend and I were going doubles on a very lonely stretch of road called Besant avenue, late in the evening, a guy in another cycle stopped us in the pretext of asking for directions. ( Is this the most successful approach till date??).When I pointed out the way he needed to go, he suddenly grabbed hold of my top. Before he could take two breaths I had punched him on his face ( I was still on the cycle) , opened my fingers and scored my nails down his face ( I bet it hurt like mad).My friend with equal presence of mind kicked his cycle and he toppled down. Before he got up we fled away. We didn't want to take the chances of him having any friends nearby. All this when we were fourteen.

These days a guy who flicks our hair and whistles saying," What is the reason for your beautiful hair?' , gets retorts of "Sabeena or Ujala". A guy who accidently pats you on the butt gets an equally accidental knock on his head by a wayward elbow or even better, an umbrella. The guys who look you up and down get look-ups and downs themselves. But that too is just by a select few girls. Most still cringe in fear.The girls who are yet to learn to defend themselves. And what about those incidents where you cannot defend yourself?Reminds of ( read my post 'A scary experience', when an auto driver asked me "Aren't you scared of going alone in the night?" during a late night trip. I replied "No. I know Karate". To which he says " What if there are six or seven men? Then what will you do,huh?". I was paralysed with fear then.

But really? What could even the braver ones do? Sit back, be raped and say "Thank you" ?

p.s. I hope the girls who read this post of mine gain the courage to be brave themselves and know they are not alone. I hope the guys who read this know to not just never harass but also spread the message and get the same attitude grilled into their friends.And I hope that everyone who reads it understands that even young children are susceptible to being harassed and get easily traumatised by it.So keep an eye on them for such signs of withdrawal and educate them when they are still very young about what they need to watch out for.

I would like to thank BlankNoiseProject for the opportunity to represent myself in this blog-a-thon in a topic so close to my heart.

p.p.s I made the collage above as a true representation of what I felt.

TO KILL OR NOT TO KILL?

A couple of days back I had this extraordinary dream.It came quite close to being a nightmare, but was not.Here it goes ---

It's late in the night and my entire house is pitched in darkness. I rise to go the kitchen for a drink of water.When I near the kitchen door, suddenly an apparition quite identical to the scary girl in 'The Ring' appears before me with her hands stretched out as if wanting to strangle me. I start with sudden fear. But my fear lives a short life. I reason to myself. Worst case scenario - what lies ahead of me is Death. And beyond death, what? Nothing. So it does not really matter.

Surprised by my lack of fear the apparition asks me, 'Why are you not terrifed?'. I explain. Amazed at my explanation, the apparition says, ' Alright. For this I shall give you a gift. A gift of being able to kill someone through ill thoughts. Were you to think really badly of someone, then they will die'.Saying this she kisses me on my cheek. I panic. I plead out saying, 'No! What you give me is no gift.It is a curse. An evil curse. I do tend to think quite ill of certain people. I don't want their blood on my hands.It would make me no better than you'.She stares at me for a while and says, 'A gift once given cannot be taken back'.

I feel incredibly upset at the thought. Can't stop thinking about what a heavy burden I need to henceforth carry on my shoulders.

And then it suddenly hit me.That I was wrong.What I had been given was not necessarily a curse. Yes, it did mean I had to learn to temper the grudges and ill feeling I might hold towards some people. But then it gave me a wonderful power too. The ability to met out justice when all else failed. To wield some goodness in an oft corrupt and wicked world. What if I used this ability to kill the Manu Sharmas( read Jessica Lall) and the George Bushs of this world?Would it still be a curse or a modern day,my own 'Sudarshan Chakra'?

Think about it.

TO MAKE A DIFFERENCE

I wrote this one when I was once in an extremely introspective yet euphoric mood. Looking back, I cannot find it in myself to be so euphoric and enthused yet can't help but wish I was.

It was a meaningful insight into the kind of life I would like to lead. The resolve to live happy.The decision to take each day as it came and live for the moment.Life is too short to dwell in misery and self pity. It deserves to be a celebration. A celebration of all we had,have and will have in the future. :) It's a beautiful world.Not sparkling white, true. But neither is it a dark brooding melanchony.I need to start loving all I have. And learn to change what I can barely tolerate.Not spend my life brooding on what I dislike yet make no attempt to banish it.I can't change the world. But in the process of enriching my life I do hope in some small way I can make the people around me happy and slowly move on to make a difference in the world.

MY LIFE AS A FRESHER :( AKA THE OMINOUS THREE 'O' THEORY (Courtesy :Megha )

The other day my Dad called out of the blue in the middle of the day and asked me ,"What are you doing?". Not wanting to befuddle him with technical lingo ( *ahem,ahem* , I liked using that.., but do not pledge to its accuracy), I replied, " Nothing much, Dad".To which he said " Oh? On the bench are you?". Quick to rise was my anger. My dad's remark was not particulary accurate. True, the work I do is nothing mind boggling but I was most certainly not on the 'Bench' as my dad put it.

A couple of days ago my brother in law ( ha!! The lucky soul who got to marry my sis!!) asked me, " So what's up at work?". Brutally honest I replied, " Don't keep asking me that question. The work I do is extremely monotonous". Then I hit the nail on the head! Eureka, I thought and then exclaimed to him " You know what? I am nothing more than an overqualified, overpaid, overworked data entry operator".And that precisely sums up my job.
Explaining the adjectives,

Overqualified - Data entry operators do not require a Bachelors in Computer Science and Engineering ( alas, also with a First Class with Distinction) !!

Overpaid - Have you heard of typists earning 17 K a month?????? :0

Overworked - I don't know the meaning of 9 - 5. My company expects me to log in an average of 9.5 hours a week : ( :( .And that is just on paper. Reality could quite easily stretch those hours!!

Therein I discover my true worth in the industry!!

A SCARY EXPERIENCE!

Two nights back I probably had one of the scariest experiences in my life.My cousin's wife was celebrating her birthday. We had this huge get together at her place with a huge motley of cousins who live in Bangalore. I was leaving that night to Madras for my rather extended leave to attend the weddings in my family.After much celebration, I reluctantly tore myself apart to catch an auto rickshaw to Majestic where I was to board the Chennai Mail which departs at 10.45. This was probably at around 9.30 in the night. Extremely early by Bangalore standards. By the way, I live at BTM, so the journey is a pretty long one.

The auto driver was a young guy, seeming harmless. Quite casually somewhere at the start of our journey he asked me in Hindi, " Memsaab, apko ithna raat pe ithna dhoor jaane me darr nahin lagta hain kya?Bangalore tho ithna be safe nahin hain" ( At this time of the night, aren't you scared to be going so far? Bangalore is not a safe city). I said "Nahin". And added to quell him "Mujhe Karate Patha Hain" ( No, I know Karate).He then turned and said in a rather husky tone,"Chae Saath Aadmi Aayenge tho aap kya karr sakthe hain, huh? ( If 6 or 7 men were to come then what can you do?).

At that moment my blood chilled right to my bone. A seemingly harmless conversation took an ominous turn in my mind. I like a lot of the other women live my life tutting in pity and horror when I read stories of rape and murder in the paper, look up to the skies and pray that it should not happen to anyone I know ( praying that no one is raped seems so futile) yet live my life in that confident bliss of assurance that it will not happen to me. I have always been a very careful person. In all likelihood because I have learnt Karate and happen to be a brown belt. When walking alone in the night I am always on the alert and watch my shadows to see if I am being followed. Confident of being able to deflect any attack. But at that instant I was horrified. I have a terrible sense of direction as all of my friends would attest to( After 4 years, I still don't know the way to my college).I could not help but wonder whether the auto driver had been issuing me a word of warning or whether it was a statement of what was to befall me.

I did not know the way to Majestic. I did not know if he was going on the right route. I did not anything at that instant but my fear. Ignorance had never been less blissful.Adrenalin was surging through me at a rate hundred times more rapid that at any other instance. It was only at around 10.20 when I reached Bangalore City station that my fear finally subsided.At that moment I resolved with all within me that I would not travel alone at night.

Two days later I am yet to decide whether I ought to laugh at my silly fears.I wonder if my imagination had been playing overtime with that one remark made by the auto driver. Yet, another part of me tells me that exercising caution could never be futile.The world is not too safe a place. This driver might just make ominous statements. Another might not hesitate to put his words in action.

MAVERICK!!

Before you begin to second guess me, this post is not about Top Gun! It's about a book called Maverick by 'Ricardo Semler'. A good friend of mine loaned it to me recently. I am yet to complete it.I am somewhere halfway through it and find it to be an engrossing read.

The book is about Ricardo Semler and the complete revamp he gave his company Semco. Not just physical, in terms of furnishing,employee count etc., but in terms of management structure,style, principles..... actually, more or less everything!Started by his father, Semco was a not very profitable company which manufactured pumps for ships. Rick who joined it at the age of 18, not one bit slowly, diversified the company's operations to include dishwashers, mixers,pumps for tankers among many others! The unusual and unique aspect of Semco is not its products but the style in which it is run. Workers decide on their own wages, set their own targes, decide the work hours, decide the profit sharing strategy and are given the right to vote on a large number of things! Things like deciding whether to buy a company or the choice of a plot for a new factory are all made by the employees through voting! Wow! Isn't that really unusual? Just imagine.. you actually get to hire you project manager? You get to decide! That most certainly eliminates all sorts of employee dissatisfacton!! And the best part of it all is that Semco makes enormous profits!!!

I was commenting to the friend who loaned me the book that i found the book extremely fascinating and was quite astounded that the 'Semco Stragey' was actually feasible and succesful. I was telling him that though I found the methods used by Semler quite revolutionary and interesting, I wasn't sure if it was quite down my line. That I was probably too forceful and domineering a person to ever implement it!! And you know what he actually had the gall to reply?? No " Why not? You're not really so forceful! You are a very sweet and lovable person!! " ..but actually a " Yeah, you would never be able to do it!!!" Baah!!!!!

SELL ME YOUR HEART....

"Sell me your hearts,I am here to buy"
raucously bellowed the heart buying man"
Give them to me, I'll pay any price
courageous among you,come if you can!"


"Run!Run! As fast as winds"
screamed petrified children scrambling away
escaping away from that horrible old man
leaving their unfinished games and play

"Why are we running? Who is that man?"
asked one child, new to that place"
To me he seems lonely,sad and dejected
Maybe we should ask him to once join our plays?"

Incredulously another stared at the boy
and asked "Did you not see that devil in disguise?
He is only here to buy our hearts!
That horrid old man with charcoal red eyes!"

"His wizened bent body is serpentine like
His fingers like talons, to tear you apart
He dresses in rags,has no shoes on his feet
and did you not hear him say that he would buy your heart?"

Puzzled the child looked at his newfound mate
and said, "All I did see was an old man,all alone
with eager bright eyes and a longing smile
crying for friendship,though weary to the bone"

The child then turned and he ran and he ran
as fast as the winds towards the heart buying man
The heart buyer watched amazed at such an extroardinary sight
until the child came, stopped and reached out its hand

And then with eyes gleaming, a strange smile lurking
he clapped his hands in untold glee
and asked"Have you come to sell me me your heart?"
"No",said the child "You can have mine for free."

-Deepti ,2004.

INSPIRED WRITING ON TOILET WALLS!!

I got this awesome forward today in which some budding poets had unleashed their creativity.. It had me positively laughing my head off ;) Here goes.....

The budding poet!!

Here I lie in stinky vapor,
Because some bastard stole the toilet paper,
Shall I lie, or shall I linger,
Or shall I be forced to use my finger.

Perhaps it's true that people find inspiration in toilets.

I came here
To shit and stink,
But all I do
Is sit and think.

There are also people who come in for a different purpose...

Some come here to sit and think,
Some come here to shit and stink,
But I come here to scratch my balls,
And read the bullshit on the walls...

Toilets walls also double as job advertisement space.......
(written high upon the wall)

If you can piss above this line,
the Singapore FireDepartment wants you.

Ministry of Environment advertisement.

We aim to please!You aim too! Please

On the inside of a toilet door:

Patrons are requested to remain seated throughout the entire performance.

And finally, this should teach some a lesson... Sign seen at a restaurant:

The hands that clean these toilets also make yourfood...
please aim properly.

Wasn't that really good?? ;)