W A R N I N G ! ! !
Mothers and grandmothers (especially mine...) read at the risk of increased BP. Certain paragraphs contain explicitly scary scenes. You have been warned!
Though I am entitled to travel by A/C Chair Car, I decided to see how it feels like traveling in the cheapest unreserved compartment of the train. I have seen these compartments every time I took the train from outside, and was quite horrified seeing people stuffed in like cattle. I have been traveling in buses stuffed the same way everyday, so I was brave enough to go through this crazy experiment.
I took the unreserved ticket from Kazipet Junction to Secundrabad. A two hour (scheduled) journey (Rs 51. The A/C tickets cost Rs 204/-)
-- Oh I took an unreserved ticket at Secundrabad Station to get here, but very smartly, I sat on the reserved compartment, wondering all along why it was so comfortable. Thank goodness the TT did not come to check. He might have yelled at me in Telugu and all I would have said was "Enneru" (I just caught that from a conversation, I don't know what it means) and he might have , in all probablity, used his boot to eject me off the train moving at 235 kmph. Before I get accusing fingers pointing at me (saying, besharam! ticketless traveller!) I'd like to inform you that I didn't know (really! really!) that the Chair car was for reserved passengers only!
Back to the story...
The train was 40 minutes late, and I had to sit on my suitcase on the platform, watching trains go past, wondering if I could open my briefcase, spread out my towel on the platform, put some change on it, and juggle my deo-spray can, cellphone and toothpaste tube! The policeman on the platform across gave me such a stare I had a feeling he read my mind. Business on the platform without a license is strictly prohibited.
The train arrived at long last, and I hopped in, pushing and shoving everybody else, but I wasn't fast enough. I only managed to find a place for my suitcase, but all seats were packed. I resigned myself to standing in the aisle.
It was a 3 hour journey, and standing for the entire journey was out of the question. I remembered dad telling me something about spreading a newspaper at the door of the bogie and sitting there, feet out. I guess there was no jeans during dad's time, so I promptly sat at the door alongside another guy.
The breeze and the thrill was nice, and I would rather sit here than share a wooden seat with somebody else. I took out my cell-phone and timed the passing of electricity poles, calculating th speed of the train. I got 360 kmph, but I gave up realizing that Indian trains don't travel that fast!
Ah well...
With the sun in my face and silence for company, I started nodding away to sleep, confident that the person next to me (whom I didn't even know)wold wake me up if I start leaning too much. I was suddenly woken up from my shut-eye when a water packet landed on my arm! Yeah, "disgusting" we say, as we try and wipe ourselves dry. Guys, improper waste disposal is not the only reason you throw your garbage out the window!
I got comfortable and shut my eyes for five minutes. I opened them to a shock! I could just see my legs! The background, usually fast moving grass or stones or whatever, was replaced by swirling water 100 meters away! I felt like I was sitting at the edge of a skyscraper wall! Any slip meant certain death! That bridge put things into perspective! The illusion of safety!! Falling out of a fast moving train, though not so scary, is equally hazardous!
My feet were resting on the stairs near the door of the train, and at the approach of every platform, I used to wonder if my feet would get cut off. I always pt my feet up then. The person next to me assured me that all the station platforms from Kazipet to Secundrabad were not high enough to cause any harm. Yet, zooming past these platforms always made my feet involuntary lift and my heart involuntarily climb from its place to my mouth!
The journey was uneventful, except for a cat-fight between two lady fruit-sellers. There was not much violence, and so the crowd watched the drama with grins on their faces! Interesting, no?
I ws exhausted at the end of the three hours and walked into the nearest restaurant for a Rs 30 lunch! (to keep the plebian style going). After that, I jumped into an auto (Rs 50) for the ride home!
Hypocrite?!
I plead guilty!
Saturday, September 20, 2008
Thursday, September 18, 2008
Young Yoke Bearers
This post has been written in rural Andhra Pradesh yesterday, where the word 'internet' is almost unheard of. I was there on duty, to study how other organizations combat HIV/AIDS. The catholic run facility here is one of the best in AP and is run with typical catholic efficiency.
I arrived here nine hours ago. After a 2 hour journey by train, I was escorted from Khazipet station, by a young father who did not speak much. Insecure as I sometimes am, I started getting stressed out, especially after I entered the lovely furnished guest-room (all for me!) and looked at the mirror. I suddenly was able to see myself through his eyes. Suddenly, I began to wonder... Am I too young for this?
The entire day went off talking to everybody in the organization, and getting all the information I needed. (Well, I can't tell that I was entirely satisfied, because, this wasn't exactly the organization I was looking for). After all the interviewing and cajoling information, (most were willing to share, as long as it didn't look professional) out of everybody (except the director, who was extremely diplomatic), I sank into one of the chairs outside their dispensary, wondering if there was more to be done. At this point, a young man came and sat beside me and ventured a "What is your name?"
Thus began a one hour conversation with someone as old as myself, and at present, carries the weight of his world on his shoulders. At 24, MA Pol Science (I'm MA sociology! something in common!) he has a mother who is infected with our friend, the HIV. His father, brothers, grandma... nobody in his family know that his mother is infected with HIV. Her CD4 count is 15 (it should be above 900) and the doctor a few minutes earlier had non-verbally pronounced her death-sentence. The young man is the oldest among four, and he has to take care of them all. When all the villagers ask about his mother's condition, he gives them excuse after excuse. To top it all, he is married, (like everybody else his age in the village) and his wife is 9 months pregnant. She has gone to her mother's house to deliver. I constantly asked him why he did not tell anybody about his mother's real sickness. Sharing the burden would make life easy for everybody! Every time I asked him that question, he either changed the subject or pretended not to understand. I already knew the answer to the question. I just wanted to hear it from him.
I did feel a bit shaken after talking to him, but it was not like it was the first time I have spoken to someone with a life 10,000 times harder than mine. This is a case where I feel I can't do much, but pray and be a friend. I wonder how he felt about me. Here's my imagination of his thoughts.
"Some tall young man from Delhi, who can't speak a word of Telugu is here to watch how people treat People living with HIV/AIDS. Two years younger than me, not as qualified as I am, no idea about life, about love; doesn't know how to talk (Doesn't know when to stop asking questions). How come he is the guy with no problems, traveling the country, earning 10G a month, while I have to juggle my business, my mother, my estranged father, my pregnant wife and my unemployed brothers while I try to get the entire village to stop asking nosy questions? I am also a Christian, same as him, may be even more mature than him. But why me?"
Suddenly all those thoughts about me being too young seemed to disappear.
And in it's place, came a question...
Two men were on a race for a prize. Both had trained equally hard. But one was made to start 10m behind the other. He still caught up with the first. While the first athlete had no obstacles in his track, the second had all sorts of stumbling blocks before him. Is this a fair race? What should the first athlete do to make it fair?
I arrived here nine hours ago. After a 2 hour journey by train, I was escorted from Khazipet station, by a young father who did not speak much. Insecure as I sometimes am, I started getting stressed out, especially after I entered the lovely furnished guest-room (all for me!) and looked at the mirror. I suddenly was able to see myself through his eyes. Suddenly, I began to wonder... Am I too young for this?
The entire day went off talking to everybody in the organization, and getting all the information I needed. (Well, I can't tell that I was entirely satisfied, because, this wasn't exactly the organization I was looking for). After all the interviewing and cajoling information, (most were willing to share, as long as it didn't look professional) out of everybody (except the director, who was extremely diplomatic), I sank into one of the chairs outside their dispensary, wondering if there was more to be done. At this point, a young man came and sat beside me and ventured a "What is your name?"
Thus began a one hour conversation with someone as old as myself, and at present, carries the weight of his world on his shoulders. At 24, MA Pol Science (I'm MA sociology! something in common!) he has a mother who is infected with our friend, the HIV. His father, brothers, grandma... nobody in his family know that his mother is infected with HIV. Her CD4 count is 15 (it should be above 900) and the doctor a few minutes earlier had non-verbally pronounced her death-sentence. The young man is the oldest among four, and he has to take care of them all. When all the villagers ask about his mother's condition, he gives them excuse after excuse. To top it all, he is married, (like everybody else his age in the village) and his wife is 9 months pregnant. She has gone to her mother's house to deliver. I constantly asked him why he did not tell anybody about his mother's real sickness. Sharing the burden would make life easy for everybody! Every time I asked him that question, he either changed the subject or pretended not to understand. I already knew the answer to the question. I just wanted to hear it from him.
I did feel a bit shaken after talking to him, but it was not like it was the first time I have spoken to someone with a life 10,000 times harder than mine. This is a case where I feel I can't do much, but pray and be a friend. I wonder how he felt about me. Here's my imagination of his thoughts.
"Some tall young man from Delhi, who can't speak a word of Telugu is here to watch how people treat People living with HIV/AIDS. Two years younger than me, not as qualified as I am, no idea about life, about love; doesn't know how to talk (Doesn't know when to stop asking questions). How come he is the guy with no problems, traveling the country, earning 10G a month, while I have to juggle my business, my mother, my estranged father, my pregnant wife and my unemployed brothers while I try to get the entire village to stop asking nosy questions? I am also a Christian, same as him, may be even more mature than him. But why me?"
Suddenly all those thoughts about me being too young seemed to disappear.
And in it's place, came a question...
Two men were on a race for a prize. Both had trained equally hard. But one was made to start 10m behind the other. He still caught up with the first. While the first athlete had no obstacles in his track, the second had all sorts of stumbling blocks before him. Is this a fair race? What should the first athlete do to make it fair?
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
AP makes you 'Appy!
First of all, an apology for such a late post... Second of all, another apology, because there'll be more posts after this, dated before this! Third of all, I am in a cyber-cafe, typing out this post at top speed, from my dirty looking journal. So, there'll be a lot of spelling mistakes. More apologies for te same. Ok, To the topic...
Here I am, safely on Secundrabad (AP - err.. Andhra Pradesh, Get the pun?) grounds. I am being pampered by the lovely hospitality of the Smart Young Doctor's (SYD) mother. 36 hours ago, rushing against time on the Delhi Metro, my mind playing an important role, mentally pushing the train past its top-speed to catch the AP Samprant Kranti Express. During that time, I was doing a bit of what you might call "faith-stretching". Two weeks of thought and planning and a month long correspondence has been spent on this trip and I wasn't ready to throw it all by just 'missing the train'. But still, I tried extremely hard to slow my mind down and stop making me jump up and tear my hair.
It was kinda harde telling myself "it's okay if you didn't catc the train, you tried your best"! But that brought me to think... If God wants me to go, I will go, if not, He won't (darnit) By the time I had completely surrendered my will to Him, I was kinda sure I would reach the station on time!
The train journey was as uneventful as an average day in solitary confinement.
SYD's mother picked me up from the station and has been hospitable ever since. She told me that taking care of God's workers was her 'ministry'. It then struck me that as I myself was a 'full-time-ministry-guy!' I stayed in the room the entire dayreading. Did no work at all.
At 4.00, I went out for a walk and on the way back, I realized I was making myself the laughing stock of the city. For some reason, I couldn't hide a broad 32 teethed grin on my face. I was cracking jokes, reminding myself of funny youtube videos and jnucf jokes and was literally bursting into splits all by myself walking down the road, oblivious to everyone else! Whenever I noticed someone's bewildered face, I would try in vain to hide my silly giggles. But I was so happy because it was a long time since I laughed so hard.
I decided that the reason behind the laughter was may be the extra helium in hyderabad, or something, but later I realized, that it was joy over-flowing from inside (after a long time) because of the love I had recieved from such a hospitable family. May God bless er and may she be a blessing to more like me.
Here I am, safely on Secundrabad (AP - err.. Andhra Pradesh, Get the pun?) grounds. I am being pampered by the lovely hospitality of the Smart Young Doctor's (SYD) mother. 36 hours ago, rushing against time on the Delhi Metro, my mind playing an important role, mentally pushing the train past its top-speed to catch the AP Samprant Kranti Express. During that time, I was doing a bit of what you might call "faith-stretching". Two weeks of thought and planning and a month long correspondence has been spent on this trip and I wasn't ready to throw it all by just 'missing the train'. But still, I tried extremely hard to slow my mind down and stop making me jump up and tear my hair.
It was kinda harde telling myself "it's okay if you didn't catc the train, you tried your best"! But that brought me to think... If God wants me to go, I will go, if not, He won't (darnit) By the time I had completely surrendered my will to Him, I was kinda sure I would reach the station on time!
The train journey was as uneventful as an average day in solitary confinement.
SYD's mother picked me up from the station and has been hospitable ever since. She told me that taking care of God's workers was her 'ministry'. It then struck me that as I myself was a 'full-time-ministry-guy!' I stayed in the room the entire dayreading. Did no work at all.
At 4.00, I went out for a walk and on the way back, I realized I was making myself the laughing stock of the city. For some reason, I couldn't hide a broad 32 teethed grin on my face. I was cracking jokes, reminding myself of funny youtube videos and jnucf jokes and was literally bursting into splits all by myself walking down the road, oblivious to everyone else! Whenever I noticed someone's bewildered face, I would try in vain to hide my silly giggles. But I was so happy because it was a long time since I laughed so hard.
I decided that the reason behind the laughter was may be the extra helium in hyderabad, or something, but later I realized, that it was joy over-flowing from inside (after a long time) because of the love I had recieved from such a hospitable family. May God bless er and may she be a blessing to more like me.
Monday, August 25, 2008
Old man at 22
In my previous posts, my boasting about my brief stint at sports must have bugged some of you. But there was a time when I was pretty good at volleyball and badminton, but like they (the oldies) say, "Those were the good old days!" But having retired from all forms of sporting activity, and refraining from all activity that would keep my fitness in check ever since, I have become the average white-collared oldie.
Looking at my slim (or rather thin) figure in the mirror, I thought I still could run a mile without breaking a sweat. Those dreams were shattered today, when I had to run after the bus because it didn't stop at my bus-stop (ah these besharam Delhi drivers). I ran and I ran as fast as I could (realizing that this was the pace I used JOG before) I had half a mind to slow down, forget about the bus and catch my breath.
Thankfully I feared that bitter feeling you have when you give up and was also worried I might be extremely late for work. So I pushed on... and on... I finally jumped on to the bus and I had to pant and pant (like the kungfu panda after he climbs up the stairs) for an entire minute until I realized I was standing in spite of two seats being vacant! I later calculated I would have ran about 75 to a 100 meters. I used to cover this distance in less than 15 seconds err... 2 years ago, but now it would take thrice the time.
My kind mother would apprehend me saying I am not eating enough (she has a point there though). My ex-coach (who once had dreams of me playing volleyball for the country) would come to my room every morning, stand on my back and make me do 50 pushups and run 2 kilometers everyday if he sees me in this condition.
Ah, but what can I do? Time changes, and I am now lazier than I ever was before. Plus, having to cook my food and eat it, doesn't seem to help. The irritating Delhi heat isn't helping either. But this is no excuse. I vow to maintain a log of my exercise schedule starting tomorrow.
.... or next week
Looking at my slim (or rather thin) figure in the mirror, I thought I still could run a mile without breaking a sweat. Those dreams were shattered today, when I had to run after the bus because it didn't stop at my bus-stop (ah these besharam Delhi drivers). I ran and I ran as fast as I could (realizing that this was the pace I used JOG before) I had half a mind to slow down, forget about the bus and catch my breath.
Thankfully I feared that bitter feeling you have when you give up and was also worried I might be extremely late for work. So I pushed on... and on... I finally jumped on to the bus and I had to pant and pant (like the kungfu panda after he climbs up the stairs) for an entire minute until I realized I was standing in spite of two seats being vacant! I later calculated I would have ran about 75 to a 100 meters. I used to cover this distance in less than 15 seconds err... 2 years ago, but now it would take thrice the time.
My kind mother would apprehend me saying I am not eating enough (she has a point there though). My ex-coach (who once had dreams of me playing volleyball for the country) would come to my room every morning, stand on my back and make me do 50 pushups and run 2 kilometers everyday if he sees me in this condition.
Ah, but what can I do? Time changes, and I am now lazier than I ever was before. Plus, having to cook my food and eat it, doesn't seem to help. The irritating Delhi heat isn't helping either. But this is no excuse. I vow to maintain a log of my exercise schedule starting tomorrow.
.... or next week
Friday, August 22, 2008
Blogger's gimmick - Interior Decorating
Now that I have got a sudden interest in blogging, (Free gifts for guessing why) I've decided I'll play the typical gimmick most bored bloggers play in order to get more comments or more "public response".
OK. Here's my problem. I am at present a bachelor living on the first floor in a one room - kitchen apartment. The bathroom isn't attached. The living room should be around 15ft x 15ft x 12ft.
Sorry the image doesn't come out as clearly as I want it to. Ok. The arcs are doors, the thick lines, the windows, the biggest room is my living space (obviously) the second biggest is the bathroom, with the green patch the bathing area and 5 the potty. In the big room, #4 is the mattress where I sleep in, the small eclipse is the chairs, the red circles represent my water kettle, rice cooker and iron (all on the floor). The green line acroos the room is my clothesline. (Disgusting, yeah) . #1 is the trunk where all my clothes are, #2 is a plastic shelf, #3 is a pile of books and newspapers and the unnumbered rectangles are boxes with winter-clothes and stuff. In the kitchen, (the smallest room), the yellow represent the shelves and the red is the sink. My budget is Rs 5000. Suggest anything (I prefer the minimalist look though) that might make my room better, and you'll get a cookie!!!
Thursday, August 21, 2008
The Glory of the Olympic Medal
India is all focussed to become an economic super-power where parents send their young ones to schools and colleges, hoping that they become great engineers and doctors one day. Mothers boast to each other how much marks their children scored in their exams. Our country, according to me, will soon end up with the smartest minds. Where your priorities are, there your success will be also.
It always looks great from the macro-perspective. Sadly, if you'd focus in a little closer, the view is very different. The sme mothers complain that their players aren't doing a good enough job at the Olympic games. The kind of explanations they come up with is wild! "We are just not as fit as the Chinese or the Blacks. They are made out of rubber and stone respectively!" "Our country is too corrupt to send in the best" (which I would agree to) "The government hardly does anything" "We are not good at sports"
Well, actually, duh, we are good at sports! I'm sure there are one or two Indians somewhere who can swim faster then Phelps! (Ok, a bold statement, but it's possible, you know considering all the strong fishermen on India's huge coastline. The governemnt also does as much as it can to make sports popular. The only reason why the best sportsmen give up the game is because there's no money in it. There's a limit to the love of the game. Me for instance, though only 22, have retired from competitive volleyball. I have become too old to feel the thrill of winning. (There was a time when I would train 6 hours a day!) It's only when you realize that even if you play for the country one day there's no chance of earning a decent livelyhood, do you give up the love for the game.
Also, many parents discourage sports. A friend of mine (sportsperson) joked saying that maybe in China one mother might ask the other how many sports her son played!!! Well, Chinese readers, please respond! Interestingly, as loudly as India might cheer for other sportspeople who risk their livelyhood on a pitch, ring or court, they would never dare to sacrifice their children on that same altar!
Our country, whether we like it or not, is a spectatorial country when it comes to sports. Though we might cheer for all those who make it to the newspapers, we will be ready to condemn anyone who tries to get there. Those who have won medals this year, enjoy the praises of those who did not approve their efforts when they were trying. It only makes the the olympic gold gleam brighter. I think, in spite of the fact that no matter what happens, the number of olympic medals we bag this year will be restricted to single digit numbers, the entire team that consistently shed sweat and blood for years and years to get here have not just trained their bodies to push new heights, but have also fought against an unsupportive society along the way.
Shouldn't we be ashamed of ourselves?
It always looks great from the macro-perspective. Sadly, if you'd focus in a little closer, the view is very different. The sme mothers complain that their players aren't doing a good enough job at the Olympic games. The kind of explanations they come up with is wild! "We are just not as fit as the Chinese or the Blacks. They are made out of rubber and stone respectively!" "Our country is too corrupt to send in the best" (which I would agree to) "The government hardly does anything" "We are not good at sports"
Well, actually, duh, we are good at sports! I'm sure there are one or two Indians somewhere who can swim faster then Phelps! (Ok, a bold statement, but it's possible, you know considering all the strong fishermen on India's huge coastline. The governemnt also does as much as it can to make sports popular. The only reason why the best sportsmen give up the game is because there's no money in it. There's a limit to the love of the game. Me for instance, though only 22, have retired from competitive volleyball. I have become too old to feel the thrill of winning. (There was a time when I would train 6 hours a day!) It's only when you realize that even if you play for the country one day there's no chance of earning a decent livelyhood, do you give up the love for the game.
Also, many parents discourage sports. A friend of mine (sportsperson) joked saying that maybe in China one mother might ask the other how many sports her son played!!! Well, Chinese readers, please respond! Interestingly, as loudly as India might cheer for other sportspeople who risk their livelyhood on a pitch, ring or court, they would never dare to sacrifice their children on that same altar!
Our country, whether we like it or not, is a spectatorial country when it comes to sports. Though we might cheer for all those who make it to the newspapers, we will be ready to condemn anyone who tries to get there. Those who have won medals this year, enjoy the praises of those who did not approve their efforts when they were trying. It only makes the the olympic gold gleam brighter. I think, in spite of the fact that no matter what happens, the number of olympic medals we bag this year will be restricted to single digit numbers, the entire team that consistently shed sweat and blood for years and years to get here have not just trained their bodies to push new heights, but have also fought against an unsupportive society along the way.
Shouldn't we be ashamed of ourselves?
Breeding Hatred
How do wars start? What makes one country annihilate another country only to torture their men and rape their women? Countries annihilating other countries because they hate each other so much. How on earth does one (individual) start to hate a culture he doesn't even know about? How is this hate generated? Where does it all start? Read this article and the comments that follow and you will find your answer. Now, I personally am indignant about the entire forced child marriage fiasco described, but it's the comments behind that story that would tell you how irrational hatred develops, even among the educated.
Now, every culture, every community has some moral problem or the other. America has a serial killer in almost every state. Gun shootouts, racism (still?), paedophilia and adultery is plenty there too. My own culture has a strong caste and class distinction. Women aren't treated with dignity in my community too. But though America and India, acknowledge this social problem, they do not look at it as a major threat. The same with Iran too! All I say is, while it is alright to blame the the criminals for their crime, it does not make sense to generalize the crime to religion or community. (Check out comments 48, 39, 69)
What would this lead to?! Exactly what the guy behind comment number 48 wants. Don't you understand that since this incident has caught global concern, this could be an isolated one? There is definitely a majority of honest, hardworking people who love their families and try to provide for them, even in this evil looking community. What gives you the right to hate a culture for its weaknesses? Condemn the men behind this. Not the community. At least, you know that you're fighting oppression and not countries. At least, you will play your part in preventing World War III
(P.S. Realize, that this is the only article in the entire newspaper has more than 20 comments!)
Now, every culture, every community has some moral problem or the other. America has a serial killer in almost every state. Gun shootouts, racism (still?), paedophilia and adultery is plenty there too. My own culture has a strong caste and class distinction. Women aren't treated with dignity in my community too. But though America and India, acknowledge this social problem, they do not look at it as a major threat. The same with Iran too! All I say is, while it is alright to blame the the criminals for their crime, it does not make sense to generalize the crime to religion or community. (Check out comments 48, 39, 69)
What would this lead to?! Exactly what the guy behind comment number 48 wants. Don't you understand that since this incident has caught global concern, this could be an isolated one? There is definitely a majority of honest, hardworking people who love their families and try to provide for them, even in this evil looking community. What gives you the right to hate a culture for its weaknesses? Condemn the men behind this. Not the community. At least, you know that you're fighting oppression and not countries. At least, you will play your part in preventing World War III
(P.S. Realize, that this is the only article in the entire newspaper has more than 20 comments!)
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