Humans are Complicated

Humans are complicated, have always been.

So my name is Twitz and I am a splendid sparrow. I am free, free to breathe, free to fly wherever I want, whenever I want. I have my palatial palace nested on one of the sparse trees in an industrial locality of Gurgaon. The city is supposedly called millennium world class city but I fail to see why. All it has is tall towers, unmanageable cars and traffic, smoking generators, broken roads and frustrated people. Not that the humdrum of Delhi is any better. But in Delhi we share one tree between 5 bird families and here I have it all to myself.

And my nest overlooks one of the cabins of a swish office. The cabin, with all the modern day amenities, seems like the most comfortable place. If only it didn't seem so confining, perhaps I would have liked to stay in it. There's this middle aged man who's, on most of the days, quite well dressed already occupying the cabin. It must really be comfortable for he spends more time there than his nest. But I don't understand, if the cabin happens to be so homely then why is this man frowning all the time? Early morning, he walks in, with the most grievous expression and has it glued on his face all day. He screams at all the seemingly meek young people and is shouted at by some more grievous overpowering men and women. He screams on his telephones and even screams at the person serving him coffee. Why should he be so unhappy? What is so troubling in his life? Doesn't he have the power to change what makes him unhappy? I can't imagine waking up to so much bitterness each day and taking it back to my nest only to come back next day with it.

So on one of the fine evenings, it started to rain and with it nature exuded its fresh fragrances. I lay warm in my nest with my family drawing in the freshness, the innocence and sheer liveliness. And then I saw him but this time with a different expression. He was leaning by the window, and staring longingly at my nest. He was almost crying and had sadness in his eyes. Did he envy me? Was he wanting to feel the rain, freedom or just be happy? Why wouldn't he do something about it? Did he dislike the confines of his cabin or swish office? Did he not like the people around him? I wish I could ask and help him but I dare not. 

All I would say is that humans continue to remain truly complicated.        

Some manners....please!

I have nothing against Kavands. In fact I have nothing against any rituals/ rites/ beliefs, no matter how illogical they seem. Each one has a different belief system and each one also has the complete freedom to believe what they like. When people believe, no questions.

So for those who didn't see the devoted saffron dressed kavands, perhaps you were lucky to have evaded the traffic which was caused due to them. But then it is commendable that they travel bare footed to Haridwar to get holy waters and offer it in their local temples. That needs a lot of devotion.

But my question is very simple. Does religion give us the right to be rowdy, crude and insensitive? I have seen, not once or twice but every year, how the kavands gape at women and hoot. Some of them riding on bikes think it as their birth right to break traffic rules and the ones herded on lorries are driving anywhere and at any pace. The traffic police and people are very supportive of them so at every corner you find these generous camps serving food and water to the kavands (excellent but let's not even get to the mess that is left after the kavands are satiated and leave). And you can't miss these camps as they play loud music (the latest bollywood cheapies tranformed to bhajans). And some generous people get innovative, they line up at the corner of the road and wait for the arrival of Kavand lorry / bikes and as soon as they find one they start throwing food items while the kavand lorry slows down in the traffic (and thanks to these generous people only who cause the traffic in the first place). And so what if some food gets dropped on the road during their throw and catch game. And the kavands, after gorging on their catch, throw the waste where? Obviously on the roads. So an arduous religious journey gives them the right to treat the roads and highways as dustbins? Some even aim to throw it at a particularly big and swanky car and the entire kavand group gags on any such feat.

I respect you kavands and other beliefs but as far as I am concerned, no religion, no god or no ritual gives you the right to say or behave filthy or create filth. You can't be doing this in the name of religion.

Can we just learn some manners first and then get to the great religious assignments? 

Hi, have you met yourself?

We as a society and culture are still so alien to taking self-discovery breaks to do what we really want. I think we fear breaks. So what next is our deep concern the moment we hear someone is retiring. But how scary can a break be which gives you moments with yourself to discover your passions, your purpose and yourself. Our clan was and still is so insecure about everything (and here I am specifically referring to a self-discovery breaks and not a break to do nothing. I detest people who like to do nothing). We save, see our bank balance, crib, save and just get frustrated for not having been able to do our own thing. So the petrol prices will continue to rise and fall, the rupee will hopefully be not so volatile, the power tariffs will continue to eat large chunk of our pockets and economic crisis will come and go. But in all this and our struggle to cope up, where does self-discovery go? Can we just sit back and wear the NA tag and say it is for the westerners?   Shall we accept that nirvana for us is only by breaking the queue at the toll gate, hitting a rickshaw puller and getting guiltlessly away from it, having unnoticeably paid the vegetable vendor less than what we were to pay or having shopped stupendously at the Zara sale and announcing it on facebook?

I understand that we have to save for our old age and prepare for the not so certain future, I understand that we have to save for our children’s education and I also understand that we have to save for our and our parents’ ‘ever increasing’ medical expenses. Because none of the taxes we pay take care of any of this. I also understand that once we have done all of the above we aspire to accumulate wealth and grow it.

But then should that keep us away from self-discovery? Busy running around in circles, do we fear losing jobs and positions if we have to introspect?   

Thank you Aamir Khan

I truly and deeply respect you. And that is, not only as an actor but as a person.

Every Sunday with Satyamev Jayate, I cry, feel angry and laugh along with what people have to share. It is commendable that you not only discuss our deep rooted problems but also the very core of these problems. And then there are Monday headlines about how good or bad the Sunday show was. Sometimes we have more cynics than people who want to pat your back. There are also cynics who claim that you are just minting money. Wouldn’t you be just doing more movies for money?

More than anything I applaud your passion, the passion to improve our community. Most of us live without a passion or purpose so I also congratulate you for having found yours. Life without a passion is actually soulless living. Frustrated, disgusted and negative, all we do is spew criticism. So please forgive your critics, they envy you for having found your passion and being able to awaken masses. When we don’t have a purpose, all we do is what is rather easy, condemn everything around. Searching within is menacing.   

Week after week, you are able to make people speak and speak about their struggles and emergence.  What they share is truly inspiring and inspiring for each one who seeks not to get entertained.  I can’t help but wonder how the guilty must feel after each show – ashamed to face themselves even in the mirror I hope.

I also salute each and every person associated with Satyamev Jayate for so perfectly putting together such moving content.

Thanks again Mr. Khan. We and the future generations have a lot to thank you for.

I hate you Honey

All right so I am averse to sugar or anything to do with anything sugary (god! how much can I write about food and food checks). But for a lot of people, sweets are extremely close to their hearts. They will do anything to defend everything sugary. I have always had something against sweets (perhaps that something has been there ever since I started my weight battle).

Now take for example these indian sweets, where the poor milk is churned and churned forever till it forgets that it ever was milk. Or the most fatty ingredients are fried so deep that it guzzles all the oil till its last grain. And as if all that wasn't enough, the half dead specimen is then laden with a few kilograms of sugar or sugar syrup to make them 'calorie giants'. And for everything we then want these 'calorie giants' to be around. We have more sweet shops than the poor doctors who can treat the hazards which these giants can cause. Any wedding - gigantic giant, pappu pass - # size giant (the number of times it took for pappu to pass is directly proportional to the giant size), new car - #size giant (again the size of the car will determine the size of the giant), for the sake of taste buds- small giant. Why can't it be like, hey my sister is getting engaged so here these spa vouchers for you. Or I bought a new car so some skimmed milk for you or pappu cleared his exams so here cream crackers for you.

I am not even protecting the non indian sweets just because I have the smallest crush on them. I know a single doughnut too is pumped with all the butter I've had in a lifetime. And then ruthlessly bathed in heaps of sugar or the ever sinful chocolate. Not to even go near those cakes or pastries which are crammed with 'colored' creams and nicely shaped sugar blocks of all shapes. For selling these guilt filled chunks, the chic bakeries in posh markets shamelessly make the modest Aggarwal Sweets feel minuscule.

So honey (I actually don't mind bit of honey in winters) no matter what shape or size, no matter what color or how seductively you dress, I still hate you.

Pre Vacation Phobia of Vacation Over Syndrome

I must be crazy enough to write about this. But it is true. 

Whenever we have planned a vacation, the preparations excite me more than the vacation itself. So the moment the vacation is planned, my preparation starts. 

• Clothes (pack, unpack, repack) – Check
• Footwear (pack, unpack, repack as per the clothes) – Check
• Everyday Medicines – Check
• Medicines just in case - Check
• Download latest music for the way – Check
• Mobile chargers – Check
• Toiletries – Check
• Eatables (as many diet biscuits and mixtures) and beverages for the way – Check
• Books – Check
• DVDs (in case we can watch movies) - Check

Just before the vacation, I follow a strict diet for the inevitable indulgence ahead. When the vacation place is being decided, I am most excited. Searching for places, shortlisting the hotels and deciding how to reach there – all of it is a lot of excitement.  But as the vacation days near, the excitement strangely lessens. And when the journey begins, I get worried about the vacation getting over soon. It breaks my heart to think that now that the vacation has started, it will end soon. During the vacation, I am relentlessly counting the hours left for the vacation to be over. 

So do I suffer from a pre vacation phobia of vacation over syndrome?

Dear food, I hate you like I love you...

Ok, so I loved Kallie Purie's ‘Confessions of a Serial Dieter’. I can follow some of her crazy diets but cannot follow the lunatic workout routines.

I am not obsessed with getting to that perfect weight but when I try so hard shouldn't I get somewhere near? Between the autocratic  8 and a half office punching in and punching out, Gurgaon commute, work and home chores, I follow a Shikha Sharma bland diet and stagger on the treadmill for at least 4 times a week and no more. When I sleep late, I wake up late so the morning sleep devours my sparse workout and what follows are a couple of sad and yawning smileys on my BBM Status. Nothing more to cover up the guilt. During the evening travel, back home, I lust food. The growling tummy conspiringly blinds my mind with images of the fattiest foods possible. The domino’s pizza which I haven't eaten in over months, lovingly beckons me, adorned with extra melted and sizzling mozzarella. Or the Mc Donalds (which is now 2 minutes from home) dangles the red hot New Mexican spicy collection. The paneer tikkas do a brave bungee jumping in the mint chutney. After the starving journey ends, what follows at home is an overdose of diet biscuits and mixtures. So I have happily done away with the fat laden chips (at times there are left over from the last night party and sympathetically find a way to my growling tummy) but that does not help. And no, I don't even want to look at fruits or milk when I am so ravenous.

I love and hate food. For most of the foods I love, I have tried to start hating them. Even in weak moments, they remain ruthlessly ignored. The forgotten Ferrero Rochers yelp every time I open the fridge but I rudely skim out the cucumbers and shut the door of the fridge hard. The cheese slices endlessly wait to rest on the soft bread slices but they are left cold and unwanted. But I cannot ignore the chocolate layered doughnuts or the doughnuts flooded with the smoothest and thick coffee flavored liquid. And I cannot ignore the heavily fried papris or any shaped pasta and I cannot resist pita bread waiting to bathe in the olive oil smeared hoummos. So for those who love me, please do not get these sinful things near me, ever.

But then how do I get to my perfect weight which lives happily ever after in the far far away land?

Any agony aunt (or size zero lass) has answers to my love hate problem?