On the Indian Identity.

I was on my way back from dropping my sister to tennis class today. Papa's out of town, so the car was miraculously available. That saved me from the post-summer-pre-monsoon humidity. Of course, I got stuck in traffic, even with the sports club being just 5 minutes away. (Mumbai isn't the most populated city for nothing.) Watching the pedestrians crossing the street absentmindedly, I noticed a girl with a nose ring. She looked about my age, was dressed in torn jeans and a black t-shirt that read Iron Maiden in jagged letters. In contrast, there are many thousand middle-class women around the country who get their nose-pierced at a young age. For them, the nose ring is a sign that they adhere to the traditional image of womanhood and femininity in India. But for the pedestrian I'd just happened to notice, the nose ring symbolized the membership of an alternative community, one that exists on the periphery of the mainstream youth. Essentially, the nose ring had travelled around the world, and assumed a fringe meaning, while its traditional meaning remained ingrained in our country's essence.
Same thing with Yoga. And Buddhism. And Chicken Tikka Masala.
What was behenji at first, is now in vogue post a whirlwind world tour.

Walk down Bandra Linking road and you'll see stalls brimming with Judas Priest and Homer Simpson t-shirts alike and pushy salesmen proclaiming their clothes are of the best quality, just a little dirty and torn, madam. Enter the colleges of the city, travel by a local train, peep into a BEST bus, and everyone from the irritable bus-driver to the college peon has such a t-shirt on. In many countries in the West, wearing such items of clothing would automatically make you part of a genre; it would become a lazy conversation starter at the very least. People would be enormously conscious of what band their t-shirt says they like, and it would be a general statement on their music taste. There, a guy wearing a Porcupine Tree t-shirt would probably be condescending to a girl wearing a Miley Cyrus cap. Here, it doesn't matter. A t-shirt is a t-shirt, and nothing else. If it looks good, buy it. There is zero guarantee that a guy wearing a Metallica t-shirt actually listens to the band. People don't really care because they don't really know what it means. And in big cities like Mumbai, everyone is a stranger. You can live anonymously, no matter what your t-shirt says.

The identity of the average Indian is a confused, albeit multi-faceted one, which makes it immensely difficult to stereotype. I'm not sure what made me notice that girl in the metal t-shirt, but if looks could be valid indicators of preferences, my bet is that she just bought it because it looked cool. And her nose ring is just another form of identification to fit into her social circle. Or to break away from it. 

What We'll Leave Behind.

This is what New York Times says:

 "But increasingly we’re not leaving a record of life by culling and stowing away physical journals or shoeboxes of letters and photographs for heirs or the future. Instead, we are, collectively, busy producing fresh masses of life-affirming digital stuff: five billion images and counting on Flickr; hundreds of thousands of YouTube videos uploaded every day; oceans of content from 20 million bloggers and 500 million Facebook members; two billion tweets a month. Sites and services warehouse our musical and visual creations, personal data, shared opinions and taste declarations in the form of reviews and lists and ratings, even virtual scrapbook pages. Avatars left behind in World of Warcraft or Second Life can have financial or intellectual-property holdings in those alternate realities. We pile up digital possessions and expressions, and we tend to leave them piled up, like virtual hoarders. At some point, these hoards will intersect with the banal inevitability of human mortality. One estimate pegs the number of U.S. Facebook users who die annually at something like 375,000."

All this digital litter that future grandchildren will have to sort through is amusing in its own way.
At the very least, the kids of serial photoshopped-profile-picture-changers will have cool bragging rights, and the curious grandchild of a Twitter addict will know every detail of his stuffy boring grand-dad's wild youth.

Personally, I wouldn't mind re-adopting the stone tablet, and scribble my definitive literature in cuneiform. They seem to be able to ride out most calamities.
:P

P.S. My blog turned one, two days ago. Of course, stupid that I am, I forgot.
But 130 posts, 602 comments and 64 followers later, I couldn't be happier. :)

Sitcom Smile.

Maybe we are the way we are because of the people we're with. Or maybe we just pick the people we need. However it works, when you find each other, you should never let go.

- Modern Family, Episode 22, Season 2.

Spark of Brilliance.

I interrupt your day for this urgent news bulletin. As dramatic as it sounds, my life has changed forever.

Every now and then, an idea strikes you. A brilliant one, at that. One that causes sleepless nights, and consumes the energy of all your waking hours. You mull over it, polish and refine it, until it turns out, it just isn't any idea, it can really work.

My best friend and I have such an idea. And we are working inspired towards its fruition.
10th May: The day we were struck by aforementioned idea.
12th May: The day we realized it could work. 

You know, I was watching Into The Wild again today, and realised something. Everyone feels they want to get away from something in their life, not many know where they want to get to. I have that figured out. I want to get away from the college crowd, that has made me lower my expectations from people my age in general. I want to get away from the mindless pursuit of an MBA. I want to get away from the corporate slavery and kiss-assing expected of me in the future.
I want to be the one in control and in charge of decisions in my personal and professional life. Personal life is sorted already, this idea makes the latter seem possible as well.

We're going to make it happen. No matter what.

This summer is going to be the most exciting, strenuous, painstaking, sweaty and productive one of our lives. I CANNOT WAIT for things to get started.

P.S. Two things can happen once I click 'Publish Post':
1. If it works: 10 years later, I will look back on this and say, "How cool was it that we have this on record".
2. If it doesn't: 10 years later, I will look back and say the same, and go back to being a corporate slave.

The Choice.

My passport says I am a Hindu. I celebrate festivals like Holi and Diwali with great abandon.

Yet, my rational mind tells me I am an atheist.

People assume that the choice between religion and atheism is simple. God or no God. Religion or no religion. Traditions or no traditions. Pick one, and that's that.

I don't think it's that simple. It's an ideology to choose, a path of life to adhere to. And thus, probably, it never will be an easy wager. 

Now, considering that I do believe in God...

There are many hundreds of religions in existence today, thousands if we count the sub-sects of each. 

Take for example, Hinduism. It has four major devotional sects as well as six Vedantic schools of philosophy. All recognize the supreme spirit Brahman or an absolute God. The goal of all Hindus is to one day join with Brahman, and through a continuous cycle of re-birth(re-incarnation), which is based on the good and bad of your actions, and finally leads to the attainment of moksha or enlightenment. Hindu mythology is peppered with a variety of gods and goddesses, villains and devils and brilliantly amorphous supporting characters. 

All religions and gods have separate spiritual significance and value, and have different, sometimes contradicting value systems within themselves. Then come the disparate modes of worship, the varieties of sacrifice and the associated number of pilgrimages required under each.

Now someone please explain to me; who should I pray to? The differences between the Gods are not trivial. I may pray to a certain God, but may anger another even within the same religion, considering how vast Hinduism is. Incurring the wrath of one condemns me to burn  in hell, another makes me cinematically imagine 'fire and brimstones'. 

So pray tell me, given the differences between religions in general, how is it a safer bet to believe in God than not to? I'm as likely to anger God with my beliefs as an average atheist's lack of them. Unless I have some specific reliable evidence that my particular religion is the right one, I'm basically as screwed as the atheist who never believed in God anyway.

Idol worship is a HUGE deal in the country. I don't think I've ever been to a house that doesn't have at least one corner designated to worshipping God. Now, the more progressive religions say that God doesn't care if he is worshipped in the right, rather prescribed, manner. As long as it's heart-felt and honest, God is perfectly happy and will ensure you are the beneficiary of a happy afterlife. In fact, God heavily comes down upon insincere believers. (By extension, does that mean he appreciates sincere non-believers?)

Also, all major religions advocate one simple thing-to be good. That's all that God wants. That's the only way Santa will bring you presents. 

I ask: Why can't I just be good, without this sword of a terrible afterlife dangling over my head? After all, life experience does teach everyone the basics of right and wrong, and the difference between the two, however subjective. If I live my life to the best of my knowledge and understanding of right and wrong, isn't that enough? 

Frankly, I believe the concept of a superior being overlooking every action of around 7 billion people, the creator of all existence, the handler of 'mother' nature, who also happens to be in charge of seasons, wedding dates and my 'soul' after death; this so-called grand CEO of world affairs is just taking individualism over the line for my liking. It's just too much. The specific rituals, the rules about what to eat and what not to eat, the donations of money, the rejection of evolution, the abandoning of homosexuals, the gender inequality, the revolt against an inter-faith marriage, the attacks under the name of faith, the arbitrary restrictions- they're all too much for me. It's too well-drafted a story, and life doesn't work that way. I believe too much in liberty to believe and follow. I also tend to believe in hard facts over fantastical mythical figures. Thus, when I die, I know my body will be burned to ash(ironically in traditional Hindu fashion), and that's that. I will turn into smoldering grey ash. No afterlife. No heaven. No hell. No paradise. I'm perfectly okay with that.

And if God reads this post, and punishes me for being an honest, well-meaning, opinionated atheist, so be it.

As for the agnostics-

Belief, stripped down to its basics, can not be straddled by convenience. I am baffled by the notion of people believing in anything just in case it exists, whether or not it's actually true. God is not a contingent liability - you can't just decide to make him a footnote to your balance sheet. You can't make 'belief' a provision for a 'just in case' situation. If that is the case, you do not understand the meaning of the word. 

Which is why, to believe or not to believe, is a very tough choice.

And I choose not to believe in the institution. 

Two Faced Tide.

I feel bored. There is literally nothing to do.

I feel frustrated and stressed. There are literally a million things to do.

I feel smart. Not smarter than anyone specific I know, just smart, when I actually understand how to solve an adjustment in an accounts problem. The fact that I actually understood it myself makes me feel slightly proud. I made a valid point in the debate. I wrote one decent blog post.

I feel dumb. Not dumber than anyone specific I know, just dumb, when I don't crack a similar adjustment in an accounts examination. Is it something I'm just not getting? Why don't I have one single original idea to contribute in the group discussion? I write such crap so often, it's not even funny.

I feel I'm an idealist all through the year.
When the exam results come in, I get back down to a realist.

I feel confused. How and when did it become okay to see someone's face on your computer everyday, but a hello in person would seem suddenly awkward and out of line?

I feel enlightened. I followed that link on that page and now I know more about something than I did a few minutes ago.

I feel useless. I am a part of Generation 'Like'. The lives that thrive on constant validation. You're awesome. Refresh. You're hot. Refresh. You're smart. Refresh. That's what drives morale, right? The casual profile picture copiously cropped and edited. The much thought-over minimalist yet definitive About Me. The seemingly offhand yet oh-so-witty tweet. The self-absorbed, internet-driven socially anxious tribe; yes, we're Generation Like. Not an active player, but yes, I am a citizen of this clan.

I feel conscious about my relevance on the planet. I am a part of driving change in the society I'm in. I think my actions make a difference. I plan my actions to make a difference.

I feel I will look back on this post, and regret it slightly.

And now, I feel I won't.

Untangling the Web # 2: Illusions and Realities.

Click on the image. Seriously. Now.

Depressing. Goddamn depressing set of facts.
:|

On the other hand, here's a handy graph for the confused and the conservative.

In Uganda, people can be prosecuted for not reporting gay people to the police. In fact, being gay often calls upon the death penalty in the country.

Pathetic.

Homosexuality does not need to be synonymous with 'hidden' or 'clandestine'. Procreation is not the basis for marriage. You CAN choose your car, your career and your partner for life. Period. The association of the word 'straight' with words like perfect or ideal is the issue here.
The not-straight is the not-allowed, right? Wrong.
Love who you want. Marry who you want to. It's high time people accept that. Let live.

The Facebook You and I Love. Is it getting old?

Click on the image to view it clearly. :)

"Each social network brings out the worst in humanity, but in a different way. With Facebook, it's usually the fact that we devastatingly overshare things we really shouldn't. With YouTube, we reveal that as a species we're incredibly retarded. And with Twitter, we reveal just how self-important we really are. "
I read this in a feature titled 140 Characters of Ego.


I have not an issue with social networking. But yes, my life is more productive when my Facebook account has been deactivated. I read more, study more fervently and am unconcerned with the minutiae of unexceptional lives.  I have come to realise one thing, though.  I live in a generation of narcissists and status updates and 2-minute tweets are a reminder of that. Uniformity generally comes with political correctness, but in this day and age, not having a Facebook account is almost viewed as anarchy. On the other hand, I do genuinely enjoy the site; my natural curiosity is unbridled online. It is fun to surf the site, to update your profile, check out what your friend circle is doing or thinking etc. 
But that's the thing, you know. It's just distracting. Too much fun, some would say. Addictive by its very nature.


But do I think it's reaching its social network sell by date, just like Orkut before? Is Facebook dying, or worse still, dead?
Na-ha.
Dead says the hipster who has no idea of the astounding rate at which the site is growing.


The constant redesigning may get irritating, the people online more stupid and Google-dependent for coolness, the status updates dumber/vaguer, the pictures more pouty/'let's-click-photos-just-to-put-them-up-on-Facebook"-ish, but facts are facts.
Connecting with another person, just never gets old.


*poke*

Happiness, times 60. :)

The number 60 reminds me of:
Elvis, The Beatles, Simon and Garfunkel, Jim Morrison, The Rolling Stones, Joan Baez, Janis Joplin, Bob Dylan and the like in their prime.
The rise of the feminist movement, where Doris Lessing's The Golden Notebook played a seminal role.
The burning flame of the gay rights movement.
The Beat Generation in the West, the Hungry Generation in India.
Che turning into a cultural icon for the rebellious youth.
Bell bottomed jeans, high hemlines, floral shirts, Grecian flowers and drugs came to define the hippies.

Notice the common thread here?
The sixties were defined by the people. People from all walks of life contributed in their million little ways to make the era what it was. That's what the number 60 represents for me. A number held up by people. It represents something new, exciting and vibrant.

Thank you, the 60 followers of the blog, for your genuine appreciation and shadowed criticism of my writing. It means a lot. Nothing compares to the excitement of seeing a new comment on your latest blog post. You make it happen. And for that, I thank you and I love you.
:)

A Safer World.

"For months after 9/11, people watched planes. They watched skyscrapers. They looked over their shoulders in crowded places — at baseball games, college graduations, New Year’s celebrations. They eyed bearded men on planes and trains, glanced nervously at suspicious packages in shopping malls, and listened for the lilt of Arabic in airports and bus stations. They profiled relentlessly and shamelessly, and waited for the next attack to come."
-New York Times


THAT was the level of paranoia in the American citizen up until yesterday. All we see is jubilation outside the White House today. While the threat of an arbitrary terrorist act has not yet disappeared, today marks a huge victory, not just for the U.S., but for the peoples of the world.


I was eight years old when I watched the Twin Towers come crashing down on television. I remember I was sleeping on a mattress on the floor of my parent's room. It was pitch dark, when my parents received a call from an uncle in Chicago, urging us to put on the news. In retrospect, little kiddie me could have just gone back to sleep. Because the same footage was played on loop for weeks after, drowning many newsworthy issues in the home country. The sombre tone of journalists, the fearful conversation over dinner just dragged on. It had finally happened. Someone had had the guts to attack America, a country that for a long time, I believed was some sort of paradise, thanks to all those travel shows. My father's mailbox was filled with chain mails depicting photographs of the disaster from various vantage points, some Photoshopped, but gruesome anyway. The words 'terrorism', 'jihad' and 'extremism' made their way into my vocabulary. And you KNOW something is important, when asked to write a speech on terrorism for 15 marks in your English final.


Osama is finally dead.
Reporters are running overtime broadcasting this story, heading to the scene for that 'exclusive coverage'.
Wikipedia has already updated its page on the man.
Google Maps rapidly found the location of the Abbotabad compound.
And it's old news on Twitter.

The newspapers will have sensational headlines tomorrow morning, run timelines, showcase editorials on the justice of it all.

Yet, that first moment of happiness and relief when you heard/read the words this morning, 'Osama's dead,'; that is the memory you will have of this day. That original feeling of 'the world is a safer place' is what you will take with you, when you narrate the story to another.