her window

her window was her pathway to the world.the bars were also selective like the people who had forgotten her , she lay listless trapped in her body wasting way to cancer . the light motes danced , magical mesmerizing her transporting her to the times when life was colorful , beautiful and simple and yes, smelt nice. this antiseptic smell of the hospital oh sorry , hospice had invaded every pore of her body .she breathed ,smelt , sweat this antiseptic phenols smell of Toronto. It was all a lie that the smells were better here , nothing could replace the mitti of Punjab . Oh how she wanted to go back to her home , anything anything was better than being here . she was ready to stay at Rajjo's place and die in her one room house.she remembered those long forgotten days when she was told not to play with her , as she was from the other caste; but they had played slyly. Childhood smiles , those harmless pranks and defying parental authority had all been the norm . where had all the innocence gone? Life had dealt one blow after another.
She wished and wished a gazillion times if she could turn the clock and had she gone with her heart rather than worry about society , prestige , name and her father's standing in the village.
countless girls had before been sacrificed on the altar of arranged marriages. why did girls not get a say? these questions all created turmoil in her mind and she could not speak again . the cancer had spread till her throat . well ,money surely had its benefits , one had a good bed, the best medical care , clinical that is , the patch up on the throat was the best , the drugs which kept in her state of listless , floating in consciousness and then out of it.
What she did have was  medical care , the nurses spoke to her, but she ached to hear punjabi , any sweet utterance. Nothing came close to that tinkling sweet words, the lovely half spoken words of love even if they were a curse. Nobody even knew her name here. She was Mrs N. Bal. Her husband , her pati parmeshwar was her identity even if she was in democratic progressive country , the land which had made punjab bankrupt and changes it from an agricultural state to an empty mall state. Sardar Kanwar Pratap Singh Bal came from Canada promising the moon and married her . he had the right credentials according to daarji; he was rich , a well connected family , only son ( every father 's wish list ) and educated.  he was handsome and they wanted a quick wedding . Oh all the mistakes they had made . a loveless marriage , the jaldi ..no english word could explain the hurriedness like jaldi could.
her only bright spot was the fun times he had with her friends. the romance of youth clouds everything . kanwar had wooed her off her feet and use was so in love with his suave , handsome personality , but he had a temper which surfaced.
marie walked in and gave her a shot so that she would be pain - free for the whole day . And then she lost consciousness for the the few hours ; her last thought being of Chandini.
late evening , the window again brought in the dying sun, she knew it heralded her death , was that an oxymoron as taught by her english teacher? nothing seemed funny or sad. It was all awash amongst the pain , the purpose of her life , the inability to stand by her decision in front of society and the repercussions. It was such  domino effect .
In fact if one tried to categorize the pain , there was no way one could measure the pain which is inflicted by words and the engraving down on one's heart .  does the heart survive or does it shrivel into this grey listless muscle just pumping away blood which was not even red just a watered down version supporting a life which was a corpse held together by the last vestige of name and property .
Everything in this world , was just money nothing more. She , Mrs  nanaki was just bartering chip since the day she had been born the only child , double property , a good well connected alliance leading to a marriage with the most eligible bachelor from , yes you guessed it  toronto , canada and then  the black mail to lead a marriage where name was paramount , forget love ( according to k , just a concoction of lusty writers who were wastrels) . And now after the divorce , K wanted her insurance money . Oh , if she had the energy she would walk out and take a flight to Punjab and hide in the haveli . the safe haven with daarji.
nanaki knew no parent except , daarji . Her other strength was Chandini , the joy , the spirit of her life who had made her stand up to the beatings and abuse the alcoholic beatings and said ,'Mama stop giving the strings of your life to others . Stop being a puppet . '
she woke up after that and left the big mansion where lights burned falsely and social pretense was utmost to her husband and almighty . It seemed as if she had never left the shores of punjab just had regressed to the Neathendereal age. Kanwar ji , was just once stop more worse than any b-grade Bollywood villain.
her thoughts went to the last time as always when he had picked up his hand to hit her and in walked in the latest girlfriend who shared his sick sexual deviancy . Nanaki, looked anther daughter room and anther hands which still had scars form last time's burning by cigarette stubs . His hand  she caught before he could make contact with her face but his push hurdled her into a vortex which consumed her till today.
Chandini knew , she needed to take this break ,she needed this gap year away from uni. she needed to go with her mother to punjab. she needed to answer this email which had come from some weird man who said he knew Mom. OMG ! was it going to be like an Oprah show where her mom would miraculously wake up and be cured of cancer and live a few years in peace...
She knew she had to tackle and make her decisions fast . With deadlines, bookings and an impending phone call she which she had to make to decide the course of her mother's life . sighing , she pushed her hair back and rubbed her near blind eyes ( only lenses saved her). she wondered where did she get this crazy hair from ? Must be her grandfather , who she knew wore a white turban hiding his hair under neath it . Nothing ,nothing came between he hair and its genes, they just never got straight. well , nobody inner life to bother for so .. ki farak painda hain? Using her mothers favorite line she picked up the phone , dialed and waited... the transatlantic ringtone and then , a stern hello .
'Hello "
May I speak to General Gill , please?'
speaking. who is this /
this is Chandini from canada , in reagrds to an email
oh , yes , yes , one minute please.
thinking to herself ( what about the costs , here mister?), did he even know how expensive these calls were?
Yes, Sat sri akal beta . this is a bit awkward but you don't know but i have known about you from your grandfather jai singhji . he always speak about you when ever he comes to Chandigarh on his trips to visits his Doctors in regards his diabetes.  I have known your mother since we were studying in college.
yes, but how does that add up? i mean , how can you help , what do you want to do? I wish you would explain how , what and most important why.
 the long silence on the other end ,made her wonder if he had hung up or she had disconnected the phone . He spoke , his tone had a strange catch in it , it was deeper with all the emotions of the world , full of a strange kind of love , an inflection which did not match with a stranger who had come into her life unannounced last week. " i have known nanaki since she was a young girl , full of life, exuberance , a gaiety which was a special gift fromGod and anyone who saw wanted to bask in her glory or the special light she seemed to possess. we all grew up together except that I was not from the same social strata . i was a fatherless child who had been given direction in his life by daarji and all his help has made me what I am today . i could never have asked her hand in marriage. a landless jat boy whom had no claim to any money except his education . that has been my single biggest regret in life that if I had got the courage to ask her hand in  marriage and had controlled my own inferior complexes , she would have been happier and I would have given her the world.
nanaki was stunned, her mother , a love , marriage , the purity stunned her.
It was her turn to keep quiet and she said what , you did not have the courage to get married to her but you loved her and now you want to appease your guilt conscience by being benevolent and all high and mighty NOW. where were your guts? just because you have a debt to pay back to Daarji , you know want to get her to punajab when she is dying and is in pain and has pain and has lapses of incoherency . So what is this last minute call before you meet the maker?
He had her furious , this sanctimonious person form nowhere. And she kept the phone down.
the phone rang instantly and she said, Yes.
 I want to get her back where she belongs . she needs to be back with friends, family and her father wants to apologize and make amends for his weakness, his inability to address the fact that his son in law was an abuser and his false prestige to not accept that its fa,ily which come first rather than society . The denial has stopped but he needs absolution.
I need time to think and why should I shift my mother to a country which has shunned her for ages and there is no equivalent medical facility. you don tknwo how much the disease has ravaged her body , yes her mind is strong it drifts , yearns for the mitti.i don't know what this mitti is all about but the eyes they speak of so much love and yearning , that if I would consider even of done second it would be for her eyes.
i will call you in a few days.
beta,

smile smile away ...

being one up on the next one by giving more and then loudly claiming it ; is this what charity is all about?
A poor man walks all day long to sell his wares but we will insist on haggling with him because that poor man in his tattered dirty clothes is trying to swindle us out of a few Rs. Winning the epic battle by saving a mere few rs out of one’s air conditioned chauffer driven car gives us immense pleasure and to some an orgasmic kick!!
I don’t want to sermonize or sound like a sanctimonious prick but seriously look within, why have all forgotten that these poor people did not choose this status. They are poor out of circumstance and out of choice (apart from the Leftist, I say!!). And, do not say, karam / previous birth’s deeds. They need our compassion, our love and some kind benevolence. Next time around, when we go to the Gurudwara, Mandir, or the place of worship of your choice give some there as offering but spare some change for the poor guy sitting outside. Do not stop your hand from reaching in to your fat wallet to pay them some. We all need to look within, to retrospect and to make the change to become less hardened, little less sophisticated and give into impulse…..
Trust me try it, the smile is worth a lot and let that veneer of materialism melt….

Meri Kudiyan

Watching a re-run of Friends where Monica and Chandler marry(finally) after many procrastinations. I thought about the criteria of Punjabi parents finding a Prince for their daughters.

It is equivalent to getting a chalice of champions, a vessel of victory by lassoing an eligible munda from phoren waters. The magical $sign, the ubiquitous tag that the boy is working abroad covers all the defects ranging from over-age to second marriages to former wives to kids to being HIV positive.

Do you know how many girls are married off in this fashion so as to be a conduit for their families to get immigration? The figures are mind-boggling and once they do go abroad your daughter would one of the lucky few if she is not abused emotionally, physically and even in some cases scarred and tortured by pati parmeshwar.

Horror stories of these naive girls are exchanged over cups of tea nonchalantly as if one was discussing the British weather .

It rains but never pours, this steady drizzle of news has made us all oblivious to everything, We don't react just turn the paper and then throw it away . The Indian psyche is such that we use newspapers for garbage, lining the tiffin for the office goer or the school child or to clean the windows. My windows should sparkle more than Mrs Sharma's being the motto. In fact this is the common woman's cardio .

meri kudiayan are all sacrificed on the green card/citizen ship stamp , and what does it matter ? It was her kismat and you did do a big Punjabi style fat wedding ? Ki farak painda hain, at least we are all in the basement in Kaneda.

cry people, it doesn't spare anyone.

Happy Republic Day 13

Republic Day

The relevance of this day is that it is a holiday, one of the three national holidays where one can sleep in late, catch up the pending chores that have been piled up and this years 26^th falls on a Saturday, so making it a long weekend for the government officers, school going children, harassed mothers who try to juggle in careers, home hearth and all.

Men try to squeeze in relaxation and catch up the lost energy so spiraled away in running this rat race. No one is bothered about why what this day is all about .MTV holds these random questions asking the youth what it is all about and the promise of tomorrow comes up with a blank. Honestly!

The glory, the honor and the special patriotic feeling is all reduced to quickly uploading Happy Republic Day quotes via face book, twitter handle or the other virtual sign boards of our times be it BBM or whatsapp messaging.

The fact that we are reduced to a life where it just matters to the virtual identity is indeed pitiful. The parade which takes place in front of the President highlighting, showcasing the might of the Defense Forces is watched with pride, but by how many. The compulsory attendance by the school children and on duty teachers along with the motley crew of politicians. A country which gathers on this day to commemorate the establishment of its constitution is passing through the darkest hours of its history .We are 1.2 billion strong but we suffer lawlessness, corruption, an inefficient system where criminals are left after good time and they still rape again and again. A, country which has reached to this explosive stage by procreation and not by nay other manner still considers sex education taboo. Why do we have men still trying to tell us what to wear, and what not to wear, not carry cellphones, not eat chow Mein (sexual desire instigated by fast food) remain in the villages, know and recite the sarswati mantra when we are being raped and call our tormentors Bhaiya and before I forget not to cross the Lakshaman Rekha.

It gets preposterous by the minute. A constitution is made for all in equality so why do we segregate on the basis of sex, religion, and caste color.

My dear esteemed politicians, this is an open appeal to all of you, please rethink for us as humans first and women later. I don’t see you discriminating when you need votes so ensure our safety for the sake of nothing else but the precious vote. Just imagine, if we all were wiped out, how do you expect the next generation to be born. This is one mystery science will never unravel and nature ensures we do not meddle with her.

See another her. We worship her in our temples even in the courts of justice, let her not be raped, plundered, killed aborted all in the senseless hunger.

Dear God

Dear God,

I will name every God and Goddess on this planet, the universe and the outer galaxies if it would help me in swinging the vote in my favor as I am in the midst of the craziest winter. It’s as if the weather branch of the Gods (I am sure there is an outsourcing of this due to the burgeoning population) has thrown us a curve ball with the coldest winter in years. It is cold. My old bones, wobbly knobby knees can’t take it anymore. What with chilblains, a permanent redder than red Santa’s reindeers nose and a crick in the neck. And yes, did I mention I smell coffeeholic, my pores and every cell (whatever the scientific term) are so saturated with coffee that no more osmosis can me done anymore.

I beg to state here as formally as possible, if I could prostrated myself on my knees I would (please imagine the scene) – how do I beat the examination stress? I along with my the millions of mothers who are in the same boat where we all worry for our child’s future based on a meaningless test which doesn’t even judge the goodness in him or her. It forgets to take into account the insecurity, the empathy they have that is cruelly taken away and replaced by cutthroat competition. We are breeding a nation of automated robots who are forgetting the past traditions and values who have a better and closer relationship with their phones and gadgets than the surrounding humans.

I want to still take care of the innocence and save it for a process whereby he or she will not be judged by a percent or by the fact that he or she can smartly win more points by an archaic crooked system.

Dear God, save me from the stress, the shock of white hair is not to emulate the Iron lady or Mrs. Gandhi, it just wont color by any chemical or natural color! It seems they have a mind of their own and are hell bent on letting me have a natural color blocking in my hair, as is the case by the designer code.

I try and follow every little trick known if it would help and I know it will not but just growing through the motions makes the stress at bay. Of course, couldn’t you just favor me a bit and settle the flip-flop and yes send us some sun, when you’re at it.

We , also worry about the haywire done in the budget , not by the crazy economy and inflation or Mr. Montek’s new calculation of 37 or 38 rs a day or even the latest one 6/9 LPG cylinders but by the consumption of junk food, read chips , chips and yes more chips. I have also , gone through packets of saunf, kacha aam toffees and entire boxes of tic toes . when did you last read the price on a box?

But as you in your infinite wisdom , will probably say : this too shall pass you loony mom.

Music or Cheap Thrills

The Big Fat Indian wedding has hit us, so dive people before you sink in the quagmire. This is a season played again and again with loud music, bright colors and ostentatious display of money and wealth and what better place than North India. We like it OTT (over the top) and then the music which rules the roost and the louder the better blaring it on the Geri route. All the music that is played has sexual undertones and we love it. We listen to the background music because it satisfies some primeval animal urge in us. The paan wallah, the nukkad wali dukaan, the hi- fi night club Dj mix, everywhere the music plays with the some subtle, and some blatant lyrics.

The media loves to examine this and then pass judgment and throw the person into the slammer aka Honey Singh.

Are we all not guilty of the crime? Are we not conveniently shifting blame and passing judgment too soon?  We have had the worst ending to a year whereby a young girl was raped brutally and left to die with her friend in the open in this cold whereby the response time of the Police and the passerby’s is the biggest blot of shame. After, the death and the nation wide protest we have targeted Honey Singh, a rapper who has been giving music to the masses targeting an audience which laps up his music of his genre.

All of us love the beat, Bollywood seems to be playing it and it’s like the proverbial honey that is attracting the bees.

Are we all so gullible? Do we get instigated, intoxicated by the music that we go around raping people?  Sukhbir Samra, a professional from London, says We listen and read what we want to listen and read!! This choice is influenced by one's upbringing, by one's personality, by one's parents and teacher's. If the reading of holy books (which is read every morning and evening in all the villages, towns and cities) from centuries failed to make us saints then surely Honey Singh cannot spoil us!! We are what we are...........

It is sheer hypocrisy to say that his music has affected the masses bringing this on. We all are guilty of this collectively; we have given rise to these phenomena. Just blaming him for this is shifting the blame and sidestepping the issue.

Ginny Arora, an activist from Lucknow and a mother of two young beautiful girls aptly sums it by saying,’ we are wasting our energies by focusing on him, they’re more important issues at hand. One can switch off the channel and walk off. ‘

The market has made him successful, and the companies’ cash on his success to the youth by making him more viral than ever. In this age of hi-tech where everything is downloaded before we can say,’What ‘? . If his lyrics are vulgar, it is because we want them to be says a Professor Sumeet Gill.

The choice is always in our hands. Musicians like him who shock, or use sex, or demean women and degrade them have been around for ages for e.g.: Chamkila, Didar Sandhu who are of the crudest kind. This music is temporary and they all pass into the annals of history with just a whimper and do not leave a mark.

Music is food for the soul and has for ages been used for sadhana to the Gods, It is sad that the moral degradation has struck the masses that we like titillations of the senses via cheap vulgar music.  A civilisation which has given birth to the ragas of the world is sinking and drowning in the instant gratification by derogatory lyrics.

The choice is always in one’s hands. By banning his music /song the unbelievable response that he got gave an increase in the sales! It seemed that fuelling the controversy helped him more than ever. The society, its sensibilities are all at stake and by striking at one singularly will not stem the rot. The rot has to stop from within to initiate the change we so urgently require.

In a country where we worship God men/bapus with equal fervor, elect bigoted narrow-minded ministers to seats of power, they are the ones who need to be sorted. The music still lifts the soul but the satsang where by innocent public is fooled into thinking that if the girl should have been religious it would not have happened.

Where is the reasoning /logic in this? This mentality is more dangerous and we need to stop this first rather than the music.

The effective way would be to have a stricter censor board that would check the lyrics and would not be a puppet straddled with inefficiency and corruption.

Life is not a status message

We all are at crossroads; the doomsday conspiracy came and went. I was even attending a Facebook party thanks to an event created! Life for us has become so trivial, that unless it doesn’t get sensationalized via the virtual media, it just doesn’t affect us. Is it because of tougher skin? I thought we had a thinner upper epidermis thanks to the ozone layer depletion.

Remember the time, when all of us were going to get skin cancer and die? It was such a rage .We all started buying sunscreen as if it was going to finish off the world supermarkets. The hot topic of discussion was the SPF to be used, thinking the higher the SPF the better the coverage. We all have had the same skin coverage as our forefathers; yes depletion has made it worse but is it the cause for so much panic?

Then ladies and gentlemen we went through years of diets, everyone and anyone who had an opinion would quote the Gm. diet, the pure diet, the soup only diet, the eat protein/no carbs diet, the eat every two hour diet, banish the ghee diet, banish the potato diet and the biggest one of all, drink green tea and eat dark chocolate to release the antioxidant diet. Pump the sedentary muscles, chug in the protein mix but hire the three point eight maid to do everything at home. We forgot to be human, and started clamoring for the image. It still carries on sadly. Along the way we have started to alter outlives/lifestyles aping an image so subtly created by media, the virtual world that we all forgot that evolution brought us to be intelligent monkeys.

Barbaric acts, heinous crimes are shaming even the animals of the jungle. Do we change ourselves? Do we make protests and those little noises in polite conversations so that we sound concerned and so right? Does the mindset change?

Yes, the youth has woken up, we are seeing a mass stirring but is that translating into action? Are we still caught up in the drama of blame game, waiting for aliens to come and jolt us out of our self-induced slumber? 

I wonder, why does not the penny drop? I ask a lot of questions. I also implore that every citizen wakes up changes himself first to see the change. Its not going to happen till our mindset doesn’t change within the four walls. This will happen if we educate, teach the next generation. Mothers need to bring down their sons from the pedestal they place them on. Processions, intelligent status updates, pinging on the BBM, what’s app, hash tag # all do impact but limited. The rest of the country needs help starting right now, right next to you, and yes the man in the mirror too.

Ravneet Sangha