One day, on one of his usual tours, as his car lazily crawled through the overcrowded tiny town road, he casually looked over his shoulders, at the passing crowd, just then he was struck. He couldn't think clearly, his heart was beating badly, that numbness returned to his head. When was the last time he felt that numbness, he thought, the answer was quick, almost seven to eight years ago! He wanted that feeling to last, but it was gone as soon as it came. He came to senses, and hurriedly looked back, he couldn't see her. He couldn't even recollect her face completely, her thoughts fogged his mind, he had just seen a glimpse of her, and those weird feelings rose in his heart.

He suddenly became conscious of the driver looking at him in the rear-view mirror, he straightened his face and rose the paper he was reading, to his face, although he could barely make out what was written. The girl's face kept coming back to him, he started thinking of her, she must be in her late teens maybe 17 or even 18, and he was 23, he thought to himself, was it a crush which he had at that girl, the minute he saw her, or was it something else? His heart pumped in its little cage, as he tried to cherish the feeling which had just possessed him.

He reached the city, and completed his work, he eagerly waited to return. It was almost dusk, when his car reached the little town again. He tried to look at many places at one time, he was looking for a blue sweater which the girl wore, he was silently hoping, praying in his heart, that he should spot the girl again. What he would do, if he spotted her? His mind questioned him, he hadn't given thought to that yet, he just wanted to catch another glimpse of that girl. How he wished, his car punctured, or got stuck in a traffic jam, so that he would have enough time to look around, and may just spot the girl.

But none happened, the car moved quickly out of the town, but he kept quite alert till they were at the outskirts of the town, looking around, against the tiny little voice in his head, which suggested, that he would never see her again.

He rested his head at the seat, he wanted to close his eyes, but as if his eyes were frozen, he couldn't close them, his gaze fixed at the window of the car, looking at the road.

His heart confronted him with another weird feeling, he cursed himself, for being mature, how he wished he still had a teenager's heart, where he could have done without knowing, that somehow somewhere he felt stupid, and that he was a grown up adult now. He leaned back and smiled, and thought, that may be hearts were meant to play such stupid pranks! The girl's sweet face filled his mind again!

Thought of sharing some pictures of my favourite corner @ home ... :)

WELCOME TO THIS WORLD ARNAV!!!
IM AN OFFICIAL BUA TO A BABY BOY!!!!!!!!!! :D
I am posting this.. may be I will show it to you someday .. my sweet Aru!! :)
I can't stop grinning.. I am so happy!!!

He was dressed in shabby old clothes covered with stains of paint. The cigarette looked strikingly new against his old dirty clothes. His hair was a mess too, covered with dust from scraping paint. His hands appeared as if they had a thin white film/coating of white powder, the same was true for his face. He merged well with the surroundings, sitting by the roadside, on a huge stone, near a paan shop. The moment one looked at him, the cigarette would glare back at the person, obviously because it was such a great misfit in the whole setting! The hands which would normally hold a bidi were today caressing a cigarette with great tenderness and awe!

His pose, was the next thing one would notice, the right leg crossed over the left one, the left hand supporting his weight as he leaned back, his head held high, back uncomfortably straight, and the right hand, yes you guessed it right, caressing the cigarette, while the twinky (little finger) at an angle of 45o from the rest of the fingers!

This clearly shows, that the cigarette was a luxury for him! He was relishing it, with the pride often found in Rajas and Maharajas! I wished, I could click a snap of his and post it here!

I know it will sound awkward, but my post ends here, I feel I have given a pretty clear picture, now will leave the thinking to you! :) Enjoy!

NANDIGRAM - PROTEST FOR PEOPLE LIKE YOU AND ME



This is a protest image, for the recent violence at Nandigram. My heart special cries out for all the little innocent girls, who were allegedly raped by a bunch of hooligans.
For the complete story, read here.

Another one of my passions.. Rangoli.. especially when its Diwali.. :)
Hope you all like it.. :D

Nagda

There is so much to say, so much to write, I don’t know where to start, what to write what not to, it’s all so overwhelming. May be I will do it piece by piece, bit by bit.

Nagda even after 16years it’s still fresh in my memory, distinctly. My mind is flooded with images at the mere mention of the name ‘Nagda’. I guess I can write a complete novel on this topic. My home 71/3, balcony, pond, school, dance classes, so many words, I guess this page will fail to contain them all. I can see my mind, personified, smirking at me, every time it sees me fail behind those millions of images it throws at me. I wished science and technology were so advanced that all I had to do was open the doors of my mind for you to see a beautiful life of a little girl in a small town. Oh! How I wish I had Dumbledore’s pensieve, if only J K Rowling’s magical world was for real, if only.

I was barely 7years old when we left Nagda; a few pictures helped me remember the many faces that were once an inseparable part of my life. Nagda was one huge home, with everyone; yes every single person there was a part of a family. It was an extended family you can say. Same friends at school, same friends to play with at home, aunties stitching frocks for you, neighborhood uncles bringing toys for you from the market, what else one can ask for, one could freely roam, after all Nagda was home! I hope you get the picture, I personally believe, you have to live in Nagda to experience it, to believe it, to believe I am telling the truth. All those who have once been part of Nagda, would swear to make you believe, I ain’t lying.

Nagda, is one place where you get everything, a club to play badminton, table-tennis, basket ball, lawn tennis, swimming and the list goes on and on. A music & dance center to learn bharatnatyam, kathak or guitar or piano and the list goes on again. A beautiful temple, Birla Mandir, perfect place for a small family picnic or a day out for little school children.

(P.S: I am gonna keep writing this.. its gonna take a long long time for me to finish it..as there is so much to write)

NAGDA

My birthplace, a sweet little town in the heart of India! :)

Visiting my school after 16 whole years!! I don't have words to express how it felt! You have to be me to feel it..

नागदा

ना जाने कितने साल गुज़र गए
ना जाने कितने लम्हे खो गए
एक आस जो बरसों से थी दिल में
बस कुछ पल बचे हैं उसे पुरी होने में |

बचपन की नन्ही यादें
संजो रखी थी न जाने कितनी बातें
वह दौड़ते कदम नन्हे से
वह खिलखिलाती मुस्कान मासूम सी |

वह माँ के आँचल में छुपना
वह पापा के हाथों में झूलना
गिरने पर भईया का दौड़ के आना
और फ़िर से दोस्तों के संग मदहोश हो कर खेलना |

वोह पहले दिन school के
वोह नए दोस्त मिलने के
वोह शरारत recess में
वोह भागना corridors में
वोह bag ले कर घर दौड़ना
वोह water bottle से दोस्त को मारना |

खेल खेल में ID Card का खोना
वोह माँ से फ़िर फ़िर डाट खाना |
वोह दोस्त के साथ 3-legged race में गिरना
और फ़िर aunty से शिक़ायत करना |

वोह जलेबी दौड़ में माँ को देखना
और दौड़ शुरू होने पर भी वही खड़े रहना |
वोह भईया का दौड़ में जीतना
और उसका medal ख़ुद पहन कर घूमना |

वोह शाम को गुनगुनाते हुए
हाथ में घुंघरू झुलाते हुए
पैरों को थिर्काते हुए
वोह dance class जाना |

घर लौट कर homework करना
और पापा के आने पर दौड़ कर दरवाज़ा खोलना |
फ़िर रात ढलने पर डब्बा गुल खेलना
और थक हार कर माँ की गोदी में सोना |

गरमी की छुट्टियों में घर घर खेलना
ठंड के दिनों में cycle सीखना |
वोह होली पर होलिका में गेहूं सेंकना
और दूसरे दिन रंगों में खो जाना |
वोह दिवाली के पटाखे club में देखना
और नवरात्रि पर गरबा करना |

सबके साथ picnic पर जाना
और दाल बाफ्ले खा कर वहीँ पर सो जाना |
Sunday को guest house के जलेबी समोसे लाना
बाज़ार जाने पर cherry वाला पान खाना |

Birla house में गोल झुला झूलना
और दौड़ कर बगुले उडाना |
फ़िर चम्बल नदी के किनारे
सबके साथ फोटो खिच्वाना |

सोचती हूँ कहाँ रुकुं
क्या लिखूं क्या न लिखूं ?
बस याद है मुझे इतना
मेरा बचपन तुम ही थे ... नागदा |

She looked away, the sun was too hot and looking at the water made her eyes hurt. She closed her eyes, and slid slightly on the bench so as to rest the back of her head at the bench. The cool breeze, the hot sun and the sound of the water made her relax, there was a small sparrow chirping somewhere and a crow cawing his lungs out. She smiled thinking that if the crow was a human she would hear innumerable abuses from its mouth.

As she relaxed breathing deeply, she heard hurried footsteps. Before she could open her eyes and see, she felt an angry punch on her arms. She was furious and got up, staring at the boy who had punched her. He said in an insulting tone, "Babes, this is no resort for you to relax, get up and go everyone is waiting for you." She was so furious, but didn't say a word, she knew it was no use picking up a fight with him, this isn't the first time, every time they met they fought, and she was sick of it. Both of them couldn't stand each other's sight. She walked away and soon broke into a light trod, she didn't wanna spend a single second with the guy.

[She left the school in the same year. She was at the boarding school only for two years. In those days there were no cell phones, so she just exchanged her new address with the girls in her hostel and a few teachers when she left]

7years later...

One day she got a mail from her best friend, she was in the same town. Soon they met and chatted about all the good old days at school, all about the new teachers which joined, the old ones who left, new classmates, old friends, their prospective careers. All the fun they had in school, all the kiddish stuff they used to do. They exchanged phone numbers, and kept in touch and met frequently.

6months later...

She sat at a bench in her college, the teacher gave the lecture off, it was Valentine's day, there were barely any students in the college. Her phone rang, she looked at the screen, an unknown number, she looked surprised, she picked up the phone and said,
"Hello"
"Umm.. Hi is this Shiba?"
She was surprised as not many people called her with that name, her name was Shibani, it had been ages since someone had called her that, surprised she said,
"Yes"
"Hi Shiba, its me, Shivang"

Her mind raced back 8years, first day of boarding school. She was scared, she had never stayed away from her parents. Her mother had arranged her cupboard and reluctantly taken back all the homemade goodies, which the warden refused to accept. She stood at the gate waving at her mother. Soon, all the girls in the hostel surrounded her and started asking her questions and showing her around the hostel. The evening passed but she couldn't sleep well at night, she missed her mother, as she was only 9years old.

Other day, at school, she had kept her bag next to one of her friends desk, and had left the class as there was still time for the lectures to start, and her friend was showing her around the school. When the bell rang, they returned to the class, she found her bag thrown across the room and a boy stood at the desk where she had kept her bag. He glared at her and said "How dare you keep your bag on my desk?" She was shocked. She said, "I am new, and Shipra told me to sit with her, I didn't know it was your desk." He said, "I don't care, just get lost" meanwhile, she had turned to pick her bag. No one had ever spoken to her in that tone, she could not control as tears trickled down her eyes. She did not notice the pin drop silence in the room, after filling the books back in her bag, she turned to see that a teacher had entered the room and from the look on the teacher's face, she realized that the teacher had witnessed the incident. The teacher said "Shivang, come with me to the Principal's office"

She remembered, innumerable other fights, with him, over the remaining two years at school.

"Hello, Shiba, you there? Can you hear me?"
"Oops sorry, yes Shivang"
"How are you?"
"I am fine thanks, how are you?"
"Lonely"
"Sorry!"
"Yes you heard it right, lonely"
She laughed, "What's wrong Shivang, stop joking"
He said in a serious tone, "No Shiba, I ain't joking"
"Then you are surely drunk"
"No, I am in my senses Shiba"
She didn't know what to say.
"I want to say something Shiba, I am sorry. I am really sorry."
"Its ok" she said awkwardly.
They chatted for a while, but there was still some awkwardness. And they realized the awkwardness was not because of the animosity that they once shared, it was absence of this animosity and something else which made them feel awkward.

It was Valentine's day!

While chatting one day my Twin Sis wrote to me:

When Love Feels Like Magic, It's called Destiny. When Destiny Has A Sense of Humor, It's Called Serendipity.

Such a beautiful phrase.. I had to write about it.. maybe a story.. dunno myself! :)

She sat at the bench alone, she would often come here and sit. This part of school usually wore a deserted look on a Sunday.

She sat there staring at the boats, moving slowly, casting their fishing nets in the mighty Ganges. She heard the whistle of a train at the distance, she lifted her gaze from the

He walked alone, whistling, looking straight in front. He hurled his bag from his left shoulder to the right one. He stopped picked up a stick and waved it with a force, the sound of swoosh excited him. He looked at the other side of the road, his younger sister and brother were walking hand in hand giggling. He spotted a crow, alongside the road, pecking at a chapati (bread), he sped towards the crow with great speed, and scared the bird. The crow was threatened and flew away, cawing loudly as if cursing him. He grinned, he knew the crow won't give up and would return to its meal as soon as he turned away. He walked on.

As soon as the school gate was in sight, he broke into a light trod. His sister called him, he waved his hand as it was her routine to call out to him and remind him to finish the tiffin and not while away the lunch break playing football. He ran towards his class, and hurriedly sat at his favourite seat next to the window overlooking the ground. His best buddy soon joined him and he narrated the incident of the crow to his friend, and both giggled. The bell rang.

Once, the teacher entered the class, they both took out their books and started studying. Often he would steal glimpses at the ground when the teacher turned his back towards them. He could not wait for the lunch break to start. Two more periods to go.

The bell rang and he and his friend dashed out of the class, he grabbed the football from his friend's hand. The other boys gathered, soon teams were formed and the game started. They played.

Towards evening, he stood at his home's doorsteps, his sister stood next to him, his mother stood there glaring at him. One of her hands twisted his ear while the other held open a tiffin box with its food contents still intact.

She tossed in her bed, but she could not sleep. Finally, she gave up trying and sneaked out of the bed, carefully, not wanting to disturb her mother. She tip-toed to the other room and slowly turned on the light. She stood there alone in the room, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the light. Then she leaned against the wall, one hand on her waist thinking, what to do. She glanced at the clock, it was 2am, she sighed. She walked towards the chair and sat there, resting her chin on her palms.

A soft breeze blew, the curtain fluttered, she looked at the balcony door, and caught the glimpse of a lone star, twinkling. She opened the door softly and stepped out in the balcony. She leaned against the railing, the cool iron felt freezing cold against her bare arms. A soft breeze made her satin gown flutter while her bare feet rested on the cold tiles. One foot flat on the ground and the other swaying softly on its toes. Her eyes were fixed at the star, as it twinkled alone in the dark night. It appeared to her as if the star was dancing, merrily to a silent song which the breeze sang. The black sky was its dance floor and she was the lone audience.

She lay alone, thinking, a lump rose to her throat and her eyes started burning, and tears flooded her eyes. They felt warm against her skin as they rolled down her cheeks. She wiped them and turned in her bed. Dawn was about to break, she looked out of the window, and stared at it blankly. She lay there silently looking out of the window at the blank dark space. It gave her the feeling of being blind. Emotions had left her, she felt empty, but her gaze was still strong.

She didn't realize as the sky slowly turned purple, red and then bright orange. It seemed as if her reflexes had seized to respond, her eyes set at the window, she stared, without blinking, her face expressionless.

Her eyes betrayed her again, and they burned as fresh tears trickled down her cheeks. She wiped them and got up, resting her head against the wire mesh, the cool morning breeze caressed her face, she closed her eyes. The cool breeze against her burning eyes relaxed her.

She opened her eyes after what seemed to be a really long time to her, and was ecstatic to see that a peacock sat perched atop the Dining Hall building. She had seen peacocks in the premises, but they were never so close to the hostel buildings. She smiled, and the sun rose, filling the whole room with bright light, she embraced herself as she looked at the red ball surfacing slowly at the horizon.

Soon, there were movements around her, the girls had started getting up, her friend got up and punched her at the back and said "Don't tell me you slept sitting in that position the whole night!" She turned and winked at her friend and said "Get up you sleepy head, School nahi jaana hai kya?" (Don't you wanna go to school) Saying this she pounced on her friend, tickling her and playfully punching her, till they both collapsed rolling with laughter, while the other girls cursed them for making such a commotion. They both got up, and raced downstairs, pulling each other and stumbling over the stairs. She suddenly stopped at the stairs and peeped outside the window, the peacock was still there, she smiled and ran to catch up with her friend.

Small incidents in my life, which took me by surprise.. I cherish the memories..

• An email, after 8yrs, from a classmate, who used to always pick up fights with me.. but now was a great friend!

• A call from a friend after 2yrs on his birthday, sitting alone somewhere, and pouring his heart out about his loneliness.. how I felt? Sad that he was lonely, happy that he considered me a good friend and content that I could console him.

• Scrapped a person, after 12yrs whom I always knew by face, but never spoke to him.. My friend's elder brother.. now my best friend!

• It all started when I hit upon a group on Orkut, yes I finally met all my friends whom I had last seen when I was in 3rd Std, almost 15yrs later, we were chatting and talking and trying to catch up.. after all 15yrs were to be covered!

• While watching news on TV a particular name struck me.. a reporter.. from Jammu.. After 4yrs just sifting through a friend's blog the same name stares back at me... Am I excited? Yes!

• A girl, who did the same things which I did, I did not even know she existed, just had a common friend .. yes.. coincidences:- we bought earrings the same day, we ate Chinese the same day, we picked up fights the same day and tonnes more.. she somewhere in Delhi.. me here in Pune.. thanks to the common friend's observation.. I found a twin sister!!

Hey all..
Sorry for being away from the blogosphere for quite sometime.. was busy with work! Yeah! I ain't lying .. get that look off your face! Indeed.. had a tough 6weeks.. with a pathetic product and machines which were just not ready to co-operate.. and would crash every time.. I seriously feel that machines have some intelligence.. they can always sniff the 'critical stage' you are in and the approaching deadlines.. and would crash when least expected!!
Hope to have a story coming up soon.. have an idea brewing up already in ma head! :D
Ciao..

A DAY IN MY LIFE...


On my way to office..















After working the whole day..
A cup of coffee in the evening...

















Waiting just before leaving...

















On my way back...
















Slight drizzle...














Home finally!!

:)

Ever felt the raindrops on your cheeks, while sitting on the banks of a lake?!
Need I say more? :)
You must be wondering what am I talking about?? Well.. ok.. here I go..
It was one of the most beautiful days of my life, and I really really thank my friend for this wonderful experience. Me and some of my friends went on a tiny trip this Sunday i.e 17th June '07.
When we left our homes, the weather was just wonderful, some one even suggested for going on a long drive, but the others were adamant that we head straight for the destination planned. Thankfully the weather stayed the same, in fact it got better!
After reaching there, things only got better.
We sat there, in one of the most serene locations in Pune, with our best buddies, chatting away the morning, and sipping on mocktails. There was only greenery around, soft cool breeze was blowing, there were beautiful birds pecking at their feathers and occasionally at some insects too in the grass. There were huge trees around, swaying as the breeze blew. Then it started to drizzle, and the drizzle was so soft, I had never in my life seen such soft drizzle, the water droplets were almost like feathers dancing on a soft breeze. It was just wonderful!!
After having lunch, we moved on towards the lake, and it was another breathtaking site! The lake, the ducks, the soft drizzle, and the sweet scented breeze.. I just sat there..the droplets fell on my face.. the breeze in my hair..my eyes set on the ripples in the water and my ears listening to the sweet chirping of the birds!!
Well, words fail me!!
It was one of the most beautiful days of my life!! Thank you God for this beautiful world, and thank you all my friends.. who made this trip possible!!

It had just stop raining, the road was wet and tiny water droplets were dripping from the trees as the wind blew. She was walking alone, the breeze was cool after the rain. The sun had just started to set on the horizon. A cuckoo sang, perched atop a mango tree. The sky was a riot of colours, few clouds dotted the sky, orange, pink and purple in colour. She looked up at the sky, the clouds only enhanced the depth of the vast sky. A soft breeze blew, the tree leaves trembled and a small water droplet fell on her delicate pink cheeks, her soft black hair danced delicately with the breeze. A smile broke onto her face, her blue eyes twinkled. She closed her eyes and opened her arms, she wanted to fly. She took a deep breath, the cool fresh air filled her lungs and she ran, she ran as fast as she could, giggling and happy as if she was flying. An old man was sitting on a bench near the park and observing her. Her joy was infectious and he couldn't conceal the smile which she brought to his face.

"Cherry, come on lets go home dear", a voice called out to the girl. She ran towards the bridge and hugged her mother. The old man stared as she left, hopping alongside, holding her mother's hand. He sat there thinking for a long time, the girl's face was still clear in front of his eyes. He smiled as he thought of her. Her momentary presence had brought a special joy in his life, he felt as if some kind of energy had filled his mind and body.

When he reached home, he could still feel the joy in his heart. He went to bed early but couldn't sleep because of the anticipation of going to the park next day and watching the little girl.

When he got up the next day, he had a weird feeling, he couldn't recognize the feeling, he felt very uneasy. Later, he realized he was nervous, he sat on a chair thinking. When was the last time he was so happy? He couldn't remember, when was the last time he experienced such joy. He was scared, yes he was scared of being happy. All he remembered was that he lived alone for years, without any feelings. Each day of these years, staying alone, he never felt happy, neither did he ever felt sad. Everyday, he lived there, he lived like a robot, with a daily routine as if programmed into him. Without any feelings, just plain numb.

He was scared now, scared to have feelings. He was bothered of being scared too. He felt an uneasiness, a restlessness, he couldn't think clearly. He wanted to run away, at the same time he wanted to lock himself up in a room.

He got up and went to his room, and sat on his rocking chair. He sat there the whole of morning, afternoon and evening, without moving, just rocking slowly in his chair and breathing slowly. Night had fallen, he did not get up from his chair, it was pitch dark in his house, he didn't move.

WHAT DO YOU THINK?!



















ON MY WAY TO OFFICE!

EVER SEEN THE SKY SO BEAUTIFUL :)

NOTE

Well one of my previous posts 'Who drives Whom?' could not convey the message it was supposed to convey as I feel that the sarcasm intended in the writing did not reflect that well! So I thought of writing this small note. The idea of the post was to convey how Times of India is riding on its publicity wave and the status which it had built from years and years of providing quality content! But sadly we see quality diminishing from the articles, you really have to sift thorough pages and pages of articles to find something worth reading!

Its sad to see that once a good news paper has been commercialized to such an extent that open criticisms are floating around. Its full of news of celebrities and irrelevant articles. Had we ever heard of designer wear, jewelery or for that matter diamonds! By advertising and writing varied articles on such products the hunger was created. An average middle class person was shown dreams of the luxury world. To add to it came along the never ending list of credit cards which lured the middle class into a pool of innumerable debts. Taking loan not only for homes but also for things like jewelery or a vacation to an exotic location.

Hope this article makes it clear that my previous post wasn't all praise for the TOI. Add to it the personal experiences I have had with the paper. It really saddens me, coz as a child I really believed in this paper and I always thought that my voice will be heard atleast by this news daily. On the other hand I am glad, that the real picture is now in front of me! I end this article by quoting to my self "Welcome to the real world!"

CITIBANK & TOI WOES

I almost half expected it, I knew my letter to the Editor of the TOI won't make it to the paper. Talk about your voice being heard!! Yeah, yeah, why would TOI print a small complain letter from some unknown girl in some tiny corner of a huge and crowded city of Pune?! While they are getting paid fat cheques to run ads of the ever great Citibank! Talk of democracy and the freedom of speech in this country!!!

A LETTER TO TOI

Subject: Citibank's Issues

Hello,

I would like to bring to your notice a series of problems I faced with Citibank. I have my salary account with Citibank and had a couple of SIP for ECS clearance from this account. The initial two clearances for the SIPs were completed fine. Then there was a bounce in one of the SIPs ECS clearance giving the reason as 'No Mandate', however, I would like to bring to your notice that the mandate is submitted just once and that too at the beginning of the SIP, which was done as the initial ECS transactions were cleared. When I complained they cleared the transaction without submission of any mandate. The next month, however, ironically the reason was given as 'No balance', whereas there were sufficient funds, in the account. Sensing this as an issue, and tired of complaining every time I cancelled that particular SIP from my Citibank account.

The story doesn't end here, all this while my second SIP was being cleared without any issues. Now after closing my first ECS clearance from Citibank. I get a bounce for the second ECS transaction. the reason 'No Mandate'. This is ridiculous, this SIP's ECS transaction was being cleared without any issues for 6 whole months.

In short, if you open an account with Citibank, you do not have control over your money, maybe one day they will deny paying you your very own hard earned money claiming 'No Balance' in your account!!

--
Shweta Pandey

P.S I forgot to mention.. recently there were these innumerable articles on food and the places to eat. How more and more people are opting to eat outside, which are the various cuisines with which you can satiate your taste-buds etc etc.. and then one fine day I bump into a huge ad about the very new, the all important "TIMES FOOD GUIDE" which includes the list of all the eateries in your city blah blah blah!!

Who drives whom?!

An interesting observation I couldn't even forcefully ignore, give the following article a thought.
Times of India, 'a' sorry "The" Leading newspaper of the country, TOI was and is considered a status symbol. If you read the Times, yes then you are talking, else sorry! Anyways, thats besides the point.

I remember, when at school, we had a separate lecture assigned once a week, where we read several editorials from the TOI. Initially from what I can recollect, TOI was a simple looking, serious kind of newspaper. With initial pages filled with the latest news, then followed by editorials, then business and finally sports. The pattern is still very much the same.

But then as times changed the paper changed too.. A dash of color was added, there were colorful pictures and advertisements on the first and the last pages of the newspaper. Then slowly supplements were added, with the aim of covering city briefs. Slowly the city news was shifted over to the main TOI and the city supplements were converted to 'Page 3' supplements, they were full of celebrities and the news of the starry world. There were talks about designer wears, bollywood gossips, hollywood gossips, grooming tips from celebrities, costly spa treatments, exotic holiday cruises and the list goes on.

Slowly steadily things were fed into the public mind, their views, their thinking was slowly being modified. It was a hunger first created by them and also at the same time fed by them.

This was followed by the launch of the much talked about entertainment channel, Zoom ...

Interesting business strategy isn't it?! In fact very simple yet at the same time very clever, and extremely effective! Kudos.. to the Times group, they drive us, we don't drive them!

Hey..

I know this is redundant but I really wanted this thread of conversation as a post.. as not many people read comments.. and me and Rahul had a very interesting discussion here, with amazing points brought out by Rahul here.. Do go through it!

Rhombus Tomsen said...

Too much to talk sbout in this context. The interview you did was great, but it raises more questions.
Lets talk about yellow journalism first, from what I researched, this is yellow journalism; Yellow journalism is a pejorative reference to journalism that features scandal-mongering, sensationalism, jingoism or other unethical or unprofessional practices by news media organizations or individual journalists.
What I am saying is that Yellow Journalism refers to the sensationalization of news, so you may have some pretty ordinary news that is reported with a lot of, what can I say, salt and pepper?! Yes, its meant to increase circulation/TRPs, well basically anything that indicates a widening of the audience.
To quote something I read somewhere "While bland infotainment and unethical corporate media practices may be considered "yellow" in the sense of "cowardly," the term yellow journalism traditionally refers to news organizations for whom some combination of sensationalism, profiteering, propaganda, journalistic bias or jingoism takes dominance over factual reporting and the profession's public trust."
I think the big issue here is not just sensationalism, I think what worries you is the fact that the reporter/journalist, who was aware of the incident before-hand, did not take any action against the assailants. Its a grey area, on the one hand, if journalists start revealing their sources to the authorities, the wrong doings of the powers that be will not be exposed, as clandestine information will not be so willingly divulged by sensitive sources! Incidents like the Watergate Scandal in the US would not have come to light if the sources of the journalists had been jeopardised by the journalists themselves, and no one who is also a party to a crime would ever feel secure revealing possibly incriminating information to the Fourth Estate, would your journalist friend call the part by part revelation of the Watergate Scandal an example of Yellow Journalism? On the other hand, abusing this privilege could lead to Journalists & Reporters being used in power games, and thus defeating their purpose as guardians of truth.
I think neither side is completely wrong or right, I think, all said and done, this would have to be left to the editor to decide. Hope he/she takes the right decision, well the editor can always replace any offensive material with some photos of Ash and Abhishek's wedding!!! :-)

9:36 PM

Rhombus Tomsen said...

OK...just realised that you have censorship set up on your blog comments...I tried to post my comments twice...before I came to that realisation....I am disgusted by this, I mean it!!! I was under the impression that you supported free speech as a fundamental right, but looks like you do not!! I am pretty sure this comment will not show up in the blog comments...but i don't care, had to vent!!! If you moderate comments on posts, you should not let visitors post any comments at all!

Again, I apologise for my naivete, I will never post a comment to your blog, unless you convince me that this little piece of censorship you implement is not to hinder free speech.

9:44 PM

Kakshi said...

Hey there..
Not at all.. I dont even read things posted by people I know .. i just publish them..
This censorship is to prevent someone from posting vulgar comments on my blog..
Hope you realise the need of this..
I am sorry if this offended you in any sense.. but trust me.. it is really in place for the reason i mentioned above and nothing else!

2:47 AM

Kakshi said...

Well I guess there has been a slight ocnfusion..
According to you..
"Yellow Journalism refers to the sensationalization of news"
and I guess the general context, from watever i can gather, is that its also used for creation of news..
There is a very slight difference.. between creation of news.. sensationalizing news.. and news in the context of what we were talking of..about a planned assassination.
Well.. as far as scandals are concerned your point is correct.. but here the point being discussed is about some freak group taking law in their hands! I understand the delicate relationship between a journalist and his sources..
I agree that there are a lot of things on stake.. and the journalist, may be correct.. in not revealing this information beforehand.. but why only talk about this one news.. tell me in general is Indian Media really Responsible?!

3:31 AM

Rhombus Tomsen said...

I agree with you to some extent, but I still think its a grey area, political scandals that I mentioned are incidental, its still a crime nevertheless. Anyways, no, I don't think the Indian media acts responsibly, but in the time that I have been in the US, I have realised, neither does the media here, so thats two countries, I don't know about the rest but I don't think its too farfetched to believe that most media, almost all over the world is corrupt, in some cases the corruption might be too much.

5:35 PM

Kakshi said...

Well I guess you are right..corruption has seeped so deeply inside in this today's world..its almost like blood pumping continuously through the veins of this nation!

An Interview with a Reporter

Hey all,
A very good friend of mine, Mr. Prabhakar Kumar, who is also a news channel reporter for one of the leading news channels in India (don't want to disclose the name here), helped me clear some of my doubts regarding my previous post..
Plz go through the conversation below.. its interesting and truly an eye-opener!

"

me: Hi

hw r u?

i had a question...

prabhakar: fine

what's up

pucho

me: can you just go to my blog..

otherwise..

prabhakar: sure

me: wait

lemme just ask it here..

there was an incident in jaipur

where a priest was beaten up by some VHP members

prabhakar: k

me: a news channel camera covered all this live..

prabhakar: k

me: right from the time the VHP members were putting on their masks..

prabhakar: k

me: now this reporter was aware of the crime beforehand..

so why did he not go to the police n complain?

prabhakar: that's yellow journalism

me: one of my friend has a diff view here..

oh..

wats yellow journalism??

prabhakar: people can go to any extent to get a spicy news

that's the fact

me: ouch..

ok..

prabhakar: no ethics are followed

me: ok..

prabhakar: its the cost of competition in media

me: hmmm

prabhakar: its a mad race here

me: hmmm

prabhakar: looks glittery from outside

me:

prabhakar: but dirty from within

me: uh-huh..

prabhakar: we are part of it

if i practise ethics

its my peersonal choice

me: ok..

prabhakar: there r N examples like this

stop getting shocked over these incidents

me:

prabhakar: & accept it as it is

me: hmmm

my friend had a diff point of view here.. and after talkin to u.. i feel he is wrong..this is what he had to say on my article.. Neil said...

Hmmm... So this may be the first time in ur posts but I think you got carried away here.

Its generally not the responsibility of the media nor is it recommended... whether it is Gopalan as in case of Veerappan or some CNN news reporters reporting from Serbia, reporters are meant to provide a coverage and thats all. Heck, they are not even supposed to voice their opinion (which is violated innumerable times) or display their emotions. There is no point of interfering in the actual event lest they are shunned and prevented from doing their jobs or worse actually affected by it. Dint mean to be verbose here... But this is open for a debate.

Sent at 5:10 PM on Wednesday

prabhakar: u r also right here

but this is just one aspect of the whole story

me: can u plz explain it a bit

prabhakar: as u said.......reporters are not supposed to do blah blah is correct

me:

prabhakar: but at the same time........reporters can even get these kinds of events organised to get some EXCLUSIVE footage

me: hmmm

prabhakar: that's other aspect which needs to be condemned

me:

thanks a lot..

wow things really are clear now..

prabhakar: welcome buddy

me: if you dont mind.. can i post this conversation on my blog..

prabhakar: hehe

sure

i don't mind

carry on

me: wow.. thanks.. great.. "

Is Indian media responsible..

A piece of news really angered me today, it is not the first time that such a thing has happened, its just that this time it made me write this article.
This news was about a pastor in Jaipur who was brutally beaten up by some members of the VHP (Vishwa Hindu Parishad) in protest to conversions carried out by the Christian community. Well my motive here is not to discuss the acts of the VHP (which again is preposterous), the point which I wanted to bring to notice was that all this was captured live by a news channel agency. The video footage had covered all the actions of the VHP members right from the time they were putting on their masks till the pastor bleeding profusely.
Its a different story when terrorist groups or the likes capture the video themselves and then send it to the media, but this is way out of what is expected from a media channel, to be aware of the crime beforehand and still not to stop it. It brings us shame to see that educated professionals of the media industry, who are the eyes, ears and voices of the masses in the country, getting involved in such acts just to get the exclusive coverage and boost their TRPs.
I guess they would have got more accolades if they would have acted like responsible citizens and would have prevented the crime from happening. We would have surely loved to see that video footage, as that would have brought us pride and would have re-instilled our faith in the country's media. But, sadly now they only bring shame to us.

THEMES on DEMAND!!
hEY guys.. Im gonna have a theme for the videos featured on muh blog every week.. n if u guys want nethin' specific to see.. just comment on dis post.. :)
Chao..

VIdEOs..
This new feature has really got me plugged to my own blog for hours together.. Your favorite videos delivered to you at your fingertips without any effort!! How cool can it get?!
Did you guys check out the videos? Right from fixing up your bike to cool bike stunts!!

So guys hook and have fun!! While I explore more!! So watch out this space for more..
Have fun..
Chao

Follow your heart


Once a need
Now maybe a hobby
Once something beautiful
now the feeling is pitiful

we say today we have
tomorrow too we shall
the politics of time play upon us
and the shall does not all we gall

the burden of excuses
the shield of pain
all of that is fine
but in ur mirror all is in vain

a decade can pass
even two aint naught
the fortune still remains for the heart

whatever they told u
however time mould u
if u want to be true
ur hearts is still the do


- Ajay Joglekar (AJ)

~ Hi,
My friend AJ shared this poem of his with me.. and i really loved it.. so im posting it here.. hope you like it too and get inspired by it..
Thanks AJ for givin me the permission to post it here!
Keep rockin' dude...
-Shweta

Once in a remote village of UP there lived a boy named Shyam, with his parents and three sisters. His was a poor family and his father worked as a daily wage labourer at the village Pradhan's fields. Shyam's father could not afford his education and hence he had to drop out of school when he was only in his 1st Grade. He used to help his father by taking the cow out for grazing during the day.

Each morning his mother would pack a couple of rotis for his lunch. He would get dressed in a plain kurta-pyjama and carry with him a small bamboo stick. Everyday he took the cow to the hill top from where he could see the Ganga river flowing. He would settle down under a tree and would leave the cow nearby to graze.

Often he would use a charcoal to make some drawings on the bare rocks strewn on the surface of the hill. He would sketch the landscape, the river, the hills, the trees. At time he would sketch birds perched on tree tops.

He would often rub his drawings on the rocks, but he himself couldn't understand what made him rub those drawings, was it the fear of someone discovering them or was it the fear of facing the criticism. But, he knew one thing for sure that he loved to sketch and he would sketch everyday and slowly he was getting better. Still he feared, he feared the perfection of the expert, he feared the comparison, he feared the criticism.

He would often dream at night, that he is sitting on a rock by the shore of the sea and making beautiful paintings of the sunset, the birds returning home, the waves of the sea, glistening white and fiery red in the light of the setting sun. But, suddenly his paintings would be set on fire by a few shadows, silhouetted against the dancing flames of his paintings. Those shadows would laugh mockingly at him. He often had such nightmares, and he would refrain from drawing for weeks, but something in his heart kept tugging and finally he would give up and draw again.

Drawing always filled his heart with a song. He would hum a tune the whole day, his heart felt light and would also add a spring in his walk and a smile on his face.

One day, he got so lost in his drawing, he drew the whole day and forgot about everything else, when it started to get dark, he quickly started preparing to return home. After packing he started searching for his cow. The cow was nowhere to be seen, he looked all around, it started getting dark, he started to panic, he could barely see in the dark. He called out the cows name, he started getting exhausted, he ran downhill, screaming along the bank of the river. His parents back home started worrying about him, he had never stayed out so late.

In the end he gave up and returned home. On hearing the news his parents were shocked and his mother could not hide her grief. His father picked up two lanterns, handed one to Shyam and without saying a word started in the direction of the hill. Shyam followed him without a word. They searched the whole night, but the cow was not to be found. By the time the returned it was already dawn. The cow provided for their daily supply of milk, and at times Shyam's mother used the surplus milk to make butter and then sold it to the local shop. The money was then used for medicines and other household items.

Now with the cow gone, meant extra work for Shyam's father, and if things didn't look good his mother would also have to work as a housemaid, to provide for the household expenses and save at the same time till they can afford another cow. But the expenses kept mounting, soon Shyam had to go to work too.

With all the burden of the work, he could never find the time to play or do what his heart desired. His little heart pained. His freedom was lost. The work tired him so much, everyday he would return home, eat his dinner and go off to sleep almost immediately. His frustration kept on piling up, but as he held himself guilty he never complained.

The day the cow was lost, and seeing the consequences Shyam had sworn to himself that he would never ever draw again. He thought that it was his drawing that engaged him like a devil and made him neglect his responsibility which caused all this pain to his family.

He never ever drew again. It was kind of a self inflicted punishment he had given himself. But, within his heart he knew how much he craved to draw. One day he couldn't resist and ran to the hill, on reaching there he desperately hunted for the rock on which he had drawn that day. But, his drawing had been washed away. He hugged the rock and cried.

Shyam never drew again and never again visited that hill.