Friday, February 27, 2009

I just heard of a well-heeled family being in financial crunch. Unfortunately they lost all money in the recent tumble of the share market, as many people must have, but all would not set out to get their son married, to a girl from a decent family, just to recover their financial position. Imagine the condition of the bride's father when he would find out that the family doesn't have a penny to spend for his beloved daughter's petty existence, let alone afford the luxuries of such a spoiled brat who dint even care to make herself self-reliant enough to earn her basic amenities. Fancy that!

Its hard to imagine the amount of destruction this would cause to the dreams of the girl who's been brought up with just one motive — to get married off to a rich fart. The girl was being dolled up, dressed up to find a good catch and this very big day of her life. Marriages getting overt importance in India, you can see girls going ga-ga about their qualities at various occasions. The highly polished marketing skills you get to see in an Indian martimony bazaar might sweep you off the floor, if you have not yet been face-to-face with such a situation.

But, what I fail to understand in this case is, what is the limit to which they can fake to get their son married off to this girl. How do they plan to support her then? Its pretty clear that they are fishing for the big salmon which is going to feed them for now. For God's sake, doesn't the fact that they are using their own son as a bait, hit their nerve? And how long do they think, they can survive on this catch. Will they again scheme something cruel as this? For shame!

The so called NXT generation has totally lost a connect with what is happening around. The system today doesn't feel the need to educate them on age-old rituals, whether those are right or wrong, as we think we are generations away from this hypocrisy and would never again have to face it. One must know that these baneful things are still being practiced around us.

This incidence is not from some history book. It happens, still happens in our neighborhood, in a metro, in a posh locality. The bias and evil customs still follow us in the urban culture, on the roads, in the pubs, silently watching to clutch-hold the next innocent fellow in its talons.

Tuesday, February 17, 2009

A Bonding

For never letting my roots lose the ground, I still remember being a kid who always wanted support for all petty chores. I know, I was a feeble baby once which was showered with all care and love needed. It was my mom and dad who were more than happy to look after me and feed me then.

They were the ones who taught me to nibble, to talk, to walk. Just like a mother goose, they showed us the way, sharpening our sense of direction. They always acted as mentors and as friends preparing their off-springs for the flight. They would hold on to the bicycle till they were confident enough to let it go. They would jog with us on the morning walks, keeping an eye unless we fall and hurt ourselves. They were always ready to take us under their wings through the emotional traumatic teenage years, which were so full of concern. On and on they made us realize and feel this special bond. The comfort of sharing all odds, the warmth in each others' presence. The bond of being in a family.

I am strong, grown up, independent. I can find my feed. Yet when in a crowded party, my mind always scans for that familiarity in faces. When in pain, I know just which pain killer would help, but the heart seeks the same attention and affection. Young and energetic I can fly high, but I keep coming back to my nest and I find them waiting for the reunion.

Friday, February 6, 2009

Up and Down the Memory Lane

Growing nostalgic about things. I remember coming back from school in the mid afternoon, soaking as much sun as possible. Back then, sun burns and tan were the least of my concerns. Lugging the books on our back, exhausted by our sessions in the school, we still had the energy to chirp, gossip and pace the distance back home.

The warmth of home and the union with ever so caring family, after all the childish squabble, would seem more than welcome. The same lane we walked the way to school, looked more cheerful and bright after school. (Now, this doesn't mean, I hated going to school) It was a Gulmohar tree on the way that attracted my attention. It would bloom with fiery red flowers, sometimes heavily laden with that. The tree would offer a span of aromatic shadow that would offer a moment of relief under the sun. Reaching the tree, we would cheerfully empty our water bottles, gurgling it nonstop down our throat. Then we would pick some flowers appeciating the shades of red, orange and yellow, watching those carefully and then playing with its anthers, we would normally proceed with the relaxed baby steps towards our home.

In our childsize world, the Gulmohar was just another milestone we would pass, on our short journey to our respectives homes. It was this time when I was pacing the same path, did I realize the lack of the cool shade. The tree was not there! The tree that had seen us growing each day. The tree that had rendered moments of fun to our journey for years. A thing of beauty, in sun, it was. The sad part is, its already gone. Before even we could realize its importance in our life.