‘NOORJAHAN’
His name was Anwar. My memory does not help me in tracing the history of the ‘whys’ and ‘hows’ our nicknaming him ‘Noorjahan’. Perhaps it was something to do with his cute girlish face and tender body structure and/or the ever present smile on his lips and twinkle in his eyes. Whatever.
Unlike most of us who had navigated from the junior section to the upper section in class six, he was one of the few who had come from other schools. As usual there was natural rivalry and distance with outsiders in the beginning and it takes time to make new acquaintances and friends. ‘Noorjahan’ was more at disadvantage because he came from the rural area. He was not like we town/city bred children. Nevertheless he took to the new surroundings like a fish takes to water. One thing however remained constant, our calling him by his new nickname. He however never seemed to care or mind.
He was rather below average student and therefore a target of our making fun of him on this count too. The teachers were also aware of his limitations but generally tried to help him.
In our geography class for over a week the teacher was making us familiar with the rivers of India with the help of a Map hung over the blackboard. Today he was testing our knowledge by asking any student at random to point the river he name . “Anwar, come here and tell me where is river Ganga” asked the teacher. ‘Noorjahan’ in his usual timid way, yet smile on his lips, moved closer to the map but was totally at loss to point the river. Someone shouted from the back “ arre map ke pichhe dekh” (look behind the map). Poor ‘Noorjahan’ went behind the blackboard to look for the river the whole class roared in laughter. The teacher also smiled but salvaged the situation by explaining again by pointing again the location of the river on the map.
Our English teacher was a typical example of a genus gone astray. He was rated one of the best teacher in town but his drinking habits preceded him wherever he went. He had Wren’s English Grammar in his blood, so to say, page by page, word by word. He never opened the Book but simply asked the students to open page number such and such, exercise number such and such etc. Upper class students were full of praise for him and his teaching methods. However his drinking habits were a matter of embarrassment for all, not for him. I do not know why management tolerated him. Coming back to ‘Noorjhhan’ , it was our English class and teacher gave us some work and sat on the chair closed eyes. He was perhaps a little tipsy, you know what I mean! There was some row on the back benches. The teacher opened his eyes and tried to figure out. He asked Anwar as to what was happening who got up and kept smiling. But said nothing. He asked him again, no reply but smile on lips and twinkles in eyes. “Why are you smiling” he asked again and again. After a long, tense wait ‘Noorjahan’ replied “sir, aapaki soorat dekhkar” (Sir seeing your face)’
It was like sprinkling ghee over fire. The teacher kept on slapping him for rest of the period saying “am I joker?”
We never saw ‘Noorjahan’ again in the school.
It is difficult to define life. It has different meanings for different individuals. To me experience is life.
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
TRUST DEFICIT
TRUST DEFICIT
In my last RRR, ‘Noorjahan’ and his beating at the hands of our English Teacher resulting into his dropping from the school was rumbled.
Now it is my turn. Dropping all pretentions of modesty, I may say that I was a bright student and therefore a favorite of most of the teachers. Shatriji, as our Hindi Teacher was fondly called had special liking for me. He liked my hand writing, my way of expression and most importantly my being an obedient pupil. In his opinion I could do no wrongs. I did my home work without fail, read in advance the chapter coming for next tutorial in the class and my books were properly kept in neat and clean condition. In fact in his eyes I was the ideal student. He would give my example in every other class. He knew my father and would always praise me.
Every day before the Hindi class, it was my duty to collect Home work note books from each student and place them on the table before Shatriji came .On that fateful day, I had somehow missed to do my home work and as such did not bring the note book. All the note books except mine were on the table before Shastriji came. As a routine he called that all student who have not brought their home work to stand up. As a punishment all such students stood on the bench throughout the period. Surprisingly I was the lone student on that day who had not done his home work and stood up. Shashtriji was aghast when he saw me standing.
There was something in his eyes, perhaps tears, and he asked me the reason. I got scared and lied by saying that I had done my home work but forgot to bring the book. There was little sign of hope on his face. He knew my house was not far off and asked me to go and get it as fast as I could. I just stood there stone faced. I fell short of speaking another lie that there was no body at home for the day but could not gather the courage to do so.
“So you lied to me?” were his words before his long handed broad palm slap landed on my face. There was another and another and another till my face became chilly read, tears flowing down and head hung in humiliation. He commenced explaining the chapter scheduled for the day. He would read a few lines, explain, look at me and come rushing and slap me again and again. That 40 minutes period seemed eternity. I could not even hear the bell indicating the end of the period and thus ending my ordeal. Shastriji taught us till class eight but I had lost his trust. In fact I had humiliated him.
I could not fully grasp the implication of my doings but looking back I feel I failed not because I did not do the home work but because I was not worthy of his trust, or at least that is how he must have taken it. I had lied. I could have told him the truth that I did not do the home work rather than lying that I had forgotten the book at home. He would have understood and forgiven me with small punishment of standing on the bench like others.
It takes ages to gain trust but seconds to lose it.
In my last RRR, ‘Noorjahan’ and his beating at the hands of our English Teacher resulting into his dropping from the school was rumbled.
Now it is my turn. Dropping all pretentions of modesty, I may say that I was a bright student and therefore a favorite of most of the teachers. Shatriji, as our Hindi Teacher was fondly called had special liking for me. He liked my hand writing, my way of expression and most importantly my being an obedient pupil. In his opinion I could do no wrongs. I did my home work without fail, read in advance the chapter coming for next tutorial in the class and my books were properly kept in neat and clean condition. In fact in his eyes I was the ideal student. He would give my example in every other class. He knew my father and would always praise me.
Every day before the Hindi class, it was my duty to collect Home work note books from each student and place them on the table before Shatriji came .On that fateful day, I had somehow missed to do my home work and as such did not bring the note book. All the note books except mine were on the table before Shastriji came. As a routine he called that all student who have not brought their home work to stand up. As a punishment all such students stood on the bench throughout the period. Surprisingly I was the lone student on that day who had not done his home work and stood up. Shashtriji was aghast when he saw me standing.
There was something in his eyes, perhaps tears, and he asked me the reason. I got scared and lied by saying that I had done my home work but forgot to bring the book. There was little sign of hope on his face. He knew my house was not far off and asked me to go and get it as fast as I could. I just stood there stone faced. I fell short of speaking another lie that there was no body at home for the day but could not gather the courage to do so.
“So you lied to me?” were his words before his long handed broad palm slap landed on my face. There was another and another and another till my face became chilly read, tears flowing down and head hung in humiliation. He commenced explaining the chapter scheduled for the day. He would read a few lines, explain, look at me and come rushing and slap me again and again. That 40 minutes period seemed eternity. I could not even hear the bell indicating the end of the period and thus ending my ordeal. Shastriji taught us till class eight but I had lost his trust. In fact I had humiliated him.
I could not fully grasp the implication of my doings but looking back I feel I failed not because I did not do the home work but because I was not worthy of his trust, or at least that is how he must have taken it. I had lied. I could have told him the truth that I did not do the home work rather than lying that I had forgotten the book at home. He would have understood and forgiven me with small punishment of standing on the bench like others.
It takes ages to gain trust but seconds to lose it.
Sunday, April 24, 2011
ABNORMAL TIMES CHANGE NORMAL PEOPLE
ABNORMAL TIMES CHANGE NORMAL PEOPLE
Hamid and I grew up together in the same locality. We went to different schools but played the games together in the only space called Municipal Park in our Mohalla after school. Many a times we fought over various issues but came back to the playing area without either of us inviting or surrendering. In effect we lived a normal life as all normal people do.
Our families were not close but were familiar and would wish each other. We got our clothes stitched form Hasid’s father who owned a tailoring shop and they would buy clothes from store owned by my father.
Our locality is inhabited by lower middle class families. People have been living here for years in perfect harmony and no incident of violence was ever reported. In fact our locality was quoted as a living example of communal harmony. The families of both the communities were historically segregated on communal lines and no one from one community even tried to own a house on either side of the community divide represented by a narrow street. Herds have to live together for protection and survival.
Everything however, changed after 26/11/2008. There were some under current after the demolition of Babri Masjid on 6/12 to be precise but no weight was ever given to rumors. Now there were rumors that policemen in plain clothes were moving in the area and were in the lookout for some suspects who helped in the logistic support to the terrorists on and before 26/11. The whole atmosphere smacked of conspiracy and distrust of the other community.
People started behaving abnormally. There were no more wishing to other community member, avoiding became the norm. People no more talked but whispered. Business deals too became community centric. My school uniform was sent for stitching to some another tailor in the town. There were clear instructions to us not to play with children of the other side of the street. Women did not move as freely, particularly after sunset.
I still went to the Municipal Park but stayed away from Hamid and children of his community. Hamid was no more a playmate. If it is happening in our Mohalla, could this be happening in Malegaon also? Was it possible that some Mahesh there was no more a playmate of some Hamid there too?
I just wonder how abnormal times change normal people. History is full of stories when normal people behaved quite abnormally. The memories of Partition of India in 1947 are still fresh in the minds of people who were directly involved. Stories are told of the great Bengal famine of 1943 when humans became inhuman in the face of hunger. Abnormal times turn friends into foes. Abnormal times make charity, dignity, compassion a rare virtue.
On the positive side there are stories of normal people remaining normal in the worst of times- helping their fellow beings, sharing food and shelter, protecting against mob furry.
The worse side of human nature, alas, comes in the open in abnormal times.
Hamid and I grew up together in the same locality. We went to different schools but played the games together in the only space called Municipal Park in our Mohalla after school. Many a times we fought over various issues but came back to the playing area without either of us inviting or surrendering. In effect we lived a normal life as all normal people do.
Our families were not close but were familiar and would wish each other. We got our clothes stitched form Hasid’s father who owned a tailoring shop and they would buy clothes from store owned by my father.
Our locality is inhabited by lower middle class families. People have been living here for years in perfect harmony and no incident of violence was ever reported. In fact our locality was quoted as a living example of communal harmony. The families of both the communities were historically segregated on communal lines and no one from one community even tried to own a house on either side of the community divide represented by a narrow street. Herds have to live together for protection and survival.
Everything however, changed after 26/11/2008. There were some under current after the demolition of Babri Masjid on 6/12 to be precise but no weight was ever given to rumors. Now there were rumors that policemen in plain clothes were moving in the area and were in the lookout for some suspects who helped in the logistic support to the terrorists on and before 26/11. The whole atmosphere smacked of conspiracy and distrust of the other community.
People started behaving abnormally. There were no more wishing to other community member, avoiding became the norm. People no more talked but whispered. Business deals too became community centric. My school uniform was sent for stitching to some another tailor in the town. There were clear instructions to us not to play with children of the other side of the street. Women did not move as freely, particularly after sunset.
I still went to the Municipal Park but stayed away from Hamid and children of his community. Hamid was no more a playmate. If it is happening in our Mohalla, could this be happening in Malegaon also? Was it possible that some Mahesh there was no more a playmate of some Hamid there too?
I just wonder how abnormal times change normal people. History is full of stories when normal people behaved quite abnormally. The memories of Partition of India in 1947 are still fresh in the minds of people who were directly involved. Stories are told of the great Bengal famine of 1943 when humans became inhuman in the face of hunger. Abnormal times turn friends into foes. Abnormal times make charity, dignity, compassion a rare virtue.
On the positive side there are stories of normal people remaining normal in the worst of times- helping their fellow beings, sharing food and shelter, protecting against mob furry.
The worse side of human nature, alas, comes in the open in abnormal times.
FLIRTING AND SEXUAL HARASSMENT
FLIRTING AND SEXUAL HARASSMENT
Some of the signs of flirting and sexual harassment are common like telling off color jokes, touching, commenting on physical attributes or dress, saying like looking beautiful, looking smart and granting favors.
How come that in some cases they are seen as flirting and in other cases as sexual harassment? I think it has more to do with the person involved. Rich, powerful and influential people more often than not show such signs and get away with a simple and fashionable tag of flirt. Just watch the fashion shows or beauty contests and you will quickly be on the same wave length with me.
Forget them too. She how the big boss in office gets away showing all these signs but the poor colleague gets hauled up for sexual harassment. Most of us have worked with female colleagues in office or work place and have experienced the ‘coyness’ of some females while being flirted by bosses and the ‘off limit’ attitudes for others.
Empowered women now are in a position to report sexual harassment cases. The trend had started even when we were in office. Not that all reported cases were true but precaution was better than cure. It was not prudent to call any female employee in your chamber while you are alone. Keeping the doors was a must. Wooden cabins gave way to glass panels and open halls. All this has become a norm now.
Do you think flirting/sexual harassment has increased or that it was always there but rarely reported in a male dominated world for fear of reprisal?
Sexual harassment has been defined widely and differ from country to country but in my opinion flirting is yet to be defined so that one could distinguish between the two.
Some of the signs of flirting and sexual harassment are common like telling off color jokes, touching, commenting on physical attributes or dress, saying like looking beautiful, looking smart and granting favors.
How come that in some cases they are seen as flirting and in other cases as sexual harassment? I think it has more to do with the person involved. Rich, powerful and influential people more often than not show such signs and get away with a simple and fashionable tag of flirt. Just watch the fashion shows or beauty contests and you will quickly be on the same wave length with me.
Forget them too. She how the big boss in office gets away showing all these signs but the poor colleague gets hauled up for sexual harassment. Most of us have worked with female colleagues in office or work place and have experienced the ‘coyness’ of some females while being flirted by bosses and the ‘off limit’ attitudes for others.
Empowered women now are in a position to report sexual harassment cases. The trend had started even when we were in office. Not that all reported cases were true but precaution was better than cure. It was not prudent to call any female employee in your chamber while you are alone. Keeping the doors was a must. Wooden cabins gave way to glass panels and open halls. All this has become a norm now.
Do you think flirting/sexual harassment has increased or that it was always there but rarely reported in a male dominated world for fear of reprisal?
Sexual harassment has been defined widely and differ from country to country but in my opinion flirting is yet to be defined so that one could distinguish between the two.
I AM A HYPOCRITE
I AM A HYPOCRITE
1. I talk of corruption but I know it started from the very house I live in. I did not report the builder who made me pay a substantial portion of the cost in cash. Though I had no black money but I helped him creating it.
2. I talk of ethics but scum to temptations when it comes to saving VAT or service tax while buying goods and services if the I AM A HYPOCRITE
3. I talk of nation building but use all tactics to save Income and Wealth tax and name it clever tax planning by taking advantage of the loopholes in law.
4. I talk of equal justice but appoint the best lawyer to defend myself against a crime committed by me knowingly or unknowingly.
5. I talk of castles, classless, colorless and creedless society but shy away having my meal with the lower cast man I know.
6. I talk of presence of God in all humans but do not allow some to enter my house. I talk of His presence everywhere but look for him in temples.
7. I talk of women empowerment and women emancipation but pray for a male child.
8. I pretend to respect women but see them as a sex object all the time.
9. I pretend to do daily puja but am unable to focus my mind and still continue doing because I have been doing it for all these years.
10. I talk of hating sycophancy and avail all opportunities of maskafying (buttering) for my benefit or earning a few brownie points.
.I am submitting this blog and hoping people appreciate my candid admission and come forward to own at least a few if not all or better still give more such examples of hypocrisy.
1. I talk of corruption but I know it started from the very house I live in. I did not report the builder who made me pay a substantial portion of the cost in cash. Though I had no black money but I helped him creating it.
2. I talk of ethics but scum to temptations when it comes to saving VAT or service tax while buying goods and services if the I AM A HYPOCRITE
1. I talk of corruption but I know it started from the very house I live in. I did not report the builder who made me pay a substantial portion of the cost in cash. Though I had no black money but I helped him creating it.
2. I talk of ethics but succumb to temptations when it comes to saving VAT or service tax while buying goods and services if the provider tells me that not insisting for a receipt will amount to substantial savings in taxes to me as no tax will be charged.
3. I talk of nation building but use all tactics to save Income and Wealth tax and name it clever tax planning by taking advantage of the loopholes in law.
4. I talk of equal justice but appoint the best lawyer to defend myself against a crime committed by me knowingly or unknowingly.
5. I talk of castles, classless, colorless and creedless society but shyaway having my meal with the lower cast man I know.
6. I talk of presence of God in all humans but do not allow some to enter my house. I talk of His presence everywhere but look for him in temples.
7. I talk of women empowerment and women emancipation but pray for a male child.
8. I pretend to respect women but see them as a sex object all the time.
9. I pretend to do daily puja but am unable to focus my mind and still continue doing because I have been doing it for all these years.
10. I talk of hating sycophancy and avail all opportunities of maskafying (buttering) for my benefit or earning a few brownie points.
I am submitting this blog and hoping people appreciate my candid admission and come forward to own at least a few if not all or better still give more such examples of hypocrisy.provider tells me that not insisting for a receipt will amount to substantial savings in taxes to me as no tax will be charged.3. I talk of nation building but use all tactics to save Income and Wealth tax and name it clever tax planning by taking advantage of the loopholes in law.
4. I talk of equal justice but appoint the best lawyer to defend myself against a crime committed by me knowingly or unknowingly.
5. I talk of castles, classless, colorless and creedless society but shy away having my meal with the lower cast man I know.
6. I talk of presence of God in all humans but do not allow some to enter my house. I talk of His presence everywhere but look for him in temples.
7. I talk of women empowerment and women emancipation but pray for a male child.
8. I pretend to respect women but see them as a sex object all the time.
9. I pretend to do daily puja but am unable to focus my mind and still continue doing because I have been doing it for all these years.
10. I talk of hating sycophancy and avail all opportunities of maskafying (buttering) for my benefit or earning a few brownie points.
.I am submitting this blog and hoping people appreciate my candid admission and come forward to own at least a few if not all or better still give more such examples of hypocrisy.
SPOILT BY SPELLCHECK
IAM BEING SPOILT BY SPELLCHECK
Believe it or not, the facility of spell-check on computers is spoiling me. Earlier whenever I had a doubt I would check the dictionary and correct it. It would register for a long time or may be forever. Now I do not have to remember spelling of new words. In fact I have started forgetting the spellings I had learnt and practiced over the years.
Same is problems with figures (I am not talking about 36x24x36). I am talking about arithmetical figures and their application like additions, subtractions, divisions, multiplications, the easiest ones. I do not remember when was the last time I did these functions manually. The handy calculator does it for me.
Am I on the brink of dementia?
Believe it or not, the facility of spell-check on computers is spoiling me. Earlier whenever I had a doubt I would check the dictionary and correct it. It would register for a long time or may be forever. Now I do not have to remember spelling of new words. In fact I have started forgetting the spellings I had learnt and practiced over the years.
Same is problems with figures (I am not talking about 36x24x36). I am talking about arithmetical figures and their application like additions, subtractions, divisions, multiplications, the easiest ones. I do not remember when was the last time I did these functions manually. The handy calculator does it for me.
Am I on the brink of dementia?
LIVING IS NOT EXISTING
LIVING IS NOT EXISTING
Every day, we wake up in the morning; go about our work in the mundane pursuit of living. In the evening we watch those silly serials or reality shows on news or entertainment channels and go to bed only to wake up in the morning to repeat what we did yesterday. Today turns into yesterday and tomorrow turns into today. Our daily fight for living does not change. This is the condition of a vast majority of 1.2 billion strong population of India and 7 billion population of the world. They live but do not exist because nobody really knows about their existence. They are nameless -faceless creatures on this planet earth.
What then, makes a person visible, existing? You may be a very important person for your near and dear but for the community, you do not exist. People are so busy in their daily fight for survival that other than themselves no body exists. The worst part is the fight for survival is against the members of the very community that does not know even you exist. Imagine the games we play to enrich ourselves at the cost of fellow citizens, the untruths we talk about them, the malice we have for them and the total disregard we have for their existence.
A closer look will reveal that even for our family we do not exist if we are not useful. As we grow older the next generation takes charge of the family and makes decisions. There comes a time when we are more contribute in the decision making process of the family. Living but not existing.
The trick therefore is to stop fighting, stop undue expectations, stop unsolicited advice and become useful and keep contributing as long as one can to stay in existence. The contribution may be as small as helping in the home work of the children in the family, fetching them from school, helping in tit- bit shopping like vegetables etc. The idea is to keep you wanted. On a broader level we have to keep ourselves useful for the community in our own way. The contribution again may be very small like reading books to old in the old age homes, helping the neighborhood poor kids in their studies, helping in the activities of the resident welfare associations etc. The idea again is to keep you wanted.
We exist as long as we are useful to the family and the community.
The important thing is to decide for ourselves if we want to live and exist. No one can decide this for us. Left to others, they would rather wish we do not even live. There will be many such cases of living and existing people around us. Let us share their stories. Who knows it may motivate some of us who are simply living but not existing.
Every day, we wake up in the morning; go about our work in the mundane pursuit of living. In the evening we watch those silly serials or reality shows on news or entertainment channels and go to bed only to wake up in the morning to repeat what we did yesterday. Today turns into yesterday and tomorrow turns into today. Our daily fight for living does not change. This is the condition of a vast majority of 1.2 billion strong population of India and 7 billion population of the world. They live but do not exist because nobody really knows about their existence. They are nameless -faceless creatures on this planet earth.
What then, makes a person visible, existing? You may be a very important person for your near and dear but for the community, you do not exist. People are so busy in their daily fight for survival that other than themselves no body exists. The worst part is the fight for survival is against the members of the very community that does not know even you exist. Imagine the games we play to enrich ourselves at the cost of fellow citizens, the untruths we talk about them, the malice we have for them and the total disregard we have for their existence.
A closer look will reveal that even for our family we do not exist if we are not useful. As we grow older the next generation takes charge of the family and makes decisions. There comes a time when we are more contribute in the decision making process of the family. Living but not existing.
The trick therefore is to stop fighting, stop undue expectations, stop unsolicited advice and become useful and keep contributing as long as one can to stay in existence. The contribution may be as small as helping in the home work of the children in the family, fetching them from school, helping in tit- bit shopping like vegetables etc. The idea is to keep you wanted. On a broader level we have to keep ourselves useful for the community in our own way. The contribution again may be very small like reading books to old in the old age homes, helping the neighborhood poor kids in their studies, helping in the activities of the resident welfare associations etc. The idea again is to keep you wanted.
We exist as long as we are useful to the family and the community.
The important thing is to decide for ourselves if we want to live and exist. No one can decide this for us. Left to others, they would rather wish we do not even live. There will be many such cases of living and existing people around us. Let us share their stories. Who knows it may motivate some of us who are simply living but not existing.
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