COMFORTABLY NUMB.

DISCLAIMER: This article is not inspired by Mr. Anna Hazare. In fact, it is a product of a feeling, or rather, the lack of it on not being able to get inspired by him. The timing may well be called clichéd. But I cannot help it. I have been “not feeling” things for a really long time- just like all of you. I am NOT a social activist. I just am comfortably numb within my boundaries of the daily life. So I am not really to be blamed, am I?

When did I first encounter corruption? It goes back to my last of the counted days at a state-run college from where I had to withdraw my certificates. Some people had advised my father to pay a few hundred rupees to the requisite person so that the process goes off smoothly. My first response, sparked off by a decade of “Moral Science” lectures at school was- “Why should I pay him to do something that is his duty?”  

Papa replied-“Don’t you want the formalities to be completed as the earliest? Besides, there’s nothing unusual to it. Government offices don’t work any other way. Bachchi ho abhi, duniya nahi dekhi hai. Dheere dheere samjhogi!”

Without going into the details of whether or not I paid the bribe to get my certificates (How can you expect me to fuel corruption? I am as clean as all the Governments of this country have been. All of us are, aren’t we?), I will proceed to how many things we simply don’t react to and take it acceptable sometimes as the universal norms of working of the society, just Government offices. In the last few years, my landline at home has been dysfunctional for more than half of the time. I may not be the only victim of BSNL’s apathy. Most of the times their response is not prompt unless and until…you know what! So finally we decided to get rid of it, given that all the family members are now comfortable with their cellphones. No wonder BSNL’s revenues have seen a drastic dip in the last few years (ET 8^th April 2011) .A Raja cannot be responsible for it. He was too busy (not) auctioning the 2G spectrum. I don’t even blame him for the biggest scam in the history of this nation. The matter is sub judice, you see. And I indeed feel sorry for the loss of his close aide too.

I had applied for a passport in November, 2009. If all goes well, i.e., the enquiries take place in time, a lucky chap can expect to get his passport in six months time. Did I say lucky? Well yes, I did. Because you have to be lucky to get it in six months when I haven’t got it in even thrice the time period. “Time period” is the word. You see, since high school we all have been studying T=2π(l/g)^(0.5) . Little did we know that greater the “acceleration” due to “gravity”, lesser the time period- be it the SP Office, University office, or the Regional Transport Office , the Electricity office, the PWD, the Block and so on and so forth. The only pre-requisite is that the accelerating force should be strong enough! Are you afraid in passing a few crisp green pieces of paper from  beneath the table? Then you’ve got to sip Mountain Dew and tell yourself “Dude,darr ke aagey jeet hai !”

Nowadays you don’t even have to pass the crisp notes from beneath the table. For the past few weeks, people in Tamil Nadu have been receiving thousand rupee notes as humble tokens of gratitude in between the pages of their morning newspapers. And you thought newspapers were not worth more than five bucks! Did you ever visit a marriage ceremony without the bride and the groom. I strongly recommend you visit one, because only then can you find how ambulances steer currency notes and booze through the busy traffic just to give you the pleasant surprise of finding at least a few hundred rupees beneath your pattal,or plate or a banana leaf (depending upon the state to which the bride and groom belong), as return gifts. But such marriage parties are held only once in five years, or may be less, which in turn depends on you- know- what.

How patiently we wait for Wikileaks to release the next cable on India when the rat can be smelled in our own backyard. My backyard back home sure as hell does smell foul. But alas! What can I do when the entire colony dumps its garbage in the vacant plot there? My senses have become used to it, what I call “comfortably numb”- to the dump, the drains, the potholes, the power cuts, the leaky water supply pipes. OOPS! By the way, I hope Wikileaks gives a part of its revenue towards the noble cause of a better, non-leaky water supply in our towns, cities and villages. Because summer is in and the crisis of water is just as deep as the slumber of our governing bodies and did I hear the name of a scheme called Jawaharlal Nehru Urban Renewal Mission? I had seen Chacha Nehru’s portrait with some quote on the need for better public infrastructure in a reputed national daily a few years ago. After that, all I have seen of JNURM is a few city buses. That in no way connotes that a blue turbaned old man and his boss are not committed to serve the country. Indeed , they are serving thousands of faceless names who enroll daily into the NREGA for a minimum of 100 days of work per year. Good Work! Kudos to the Great Indian Taxpayer for being generous enough to part with his/her hard earned money to support the labourer who he/ she can never know even if he/she wants to. I never said people could be conjured out of thin air. That has been done mostly with bank accounts, companies… After all, Switzerland isn’t just synonymous with Cartier and other haute horlogerie.

I am flesh and blood and soul within(?). I know I am- so are all of you. And as I write this article, I tell myself “Load na le, lite le lite!”. Sure getting stressed out is futile. So I amuse myself by writing this piece of bakar  and updating my Facebook status, profile picture and sharing a few links. Activism is fashion after all, and I don’t want to be called unfashionable.

How can I not be moved by Mr. Anna Hazare- does it haunt me?

Naah…I am just (un)comfortably numb.

इक चेहरा देखती हूँ अक्सर मैं अपने आस पास...

इक चेहरा देखती हूँ अक्सर मैं अपने आस पास
यूँ ही कभी जब अकेले में होती हूँ -
कभी छत  पर टहलते हुए ,
कभी कमरे में अकेले ही कोई गीत गुनगुनाते हुए,
और कभी किसी सूनी राह पे बस चलते हुए |
कभी कभी ऐसा लगता है के एक ही चेहरा है,
तो कभी लगता है के अलग अलग राहों पे
अलग अलग चेहरे हैं मेरे साथ
जो मुझे कह रहें हों के
मैं तुम्हारे साथ हूँ,
हर कदम पर,
जब भी किसी मुश्किल में रहो,
मैं यहीं कहीं मिल जाऊंगा..
आखिर अब तक हर मुश्किल में मुझे
कोई न कोई मिल गया था-
जिसने मेरे भागते हुए परेशान से मन के अँधेरे को दूर भगाया ...
जिसने मेरे बच्चों जैसे सवालों के जवाब दिए,
जिसने मुझे ये बताया के क्या होती है दोस्ती,
क्यों लोग भागते रहते हैं-
कभी प्यार,कभी पैसे ,कभी परिवार
और कभी बस अपने मन की ओर |

अब तक जब भी कोई उलझन थी,
जब मन अशांत रहा,
जब भी अनिश्चितताएं आयीं ,
जब भी लगा के अब आगे का रास्ता दिख न रहा हो,
जब लगा के सारी दुनिया मुझपर हँस रही है,
जब भी सोचा के कहीं मेरी दोस्ती में ही कहीं कोई कमी तो नहीं ..
जब महसूस हुआ के लोगों को मेरा अपने चुने हुए रस्ते पे चलना पसंद नहीं था,
जब भी अँधेरे में अपने तकिये में सर छुपा के आंसुओं को निकलने दिया,
जब भी कल्लोल किया,
जब हँसते हँसते भूल गयी के हंसी आई भी क्यों थी..
जब भी बचपन की बातें एकदम से ताज़ा हो उठीं,
जब गुस्सा आया-खुद पे और दुनिया पे,
तो कोई हमेशा मेरे साथ था - ऐसा लगा |
लगा जैसे ईश्वर ने किसी फ़रिश्ते को बस मेरी परेशानियों का हल ढूँढने के लिए भेजा है,
थोड़ा मैंने भी उन फरिश्तों की उलझन सुलझाई,
और कभी कभी लगा जैसे बातें सुलझने के बदले और भी उलझ गयी हों |
लेकिन जो वक़्त गुज़रा साथ में-वो वक़्त कभी भुलाया नहीं जा सकता
क्योंकि वो तो जैसे हमारे दिलों में जैसे एक अमिट छाप छोड़ गया है |
अच्छा था या बुरा - ये कह पाना मेरे सामर्थ्य के बाहर की बात है -
क्योंकि उस समय लगा जैसे इस से अच्छा कुछ भी नहीं;
मानो किसी ने आसमान से खुशियों की बारिश कर दी हो,
जिसकी बौछारों में मन के सारे दुःख अकस्मात् ही धुल गए जैसे;
लगा के बस हर एक घड़ी को समेट लूँ |
फिर बादल छंटे और निखरती हुई धूप आई और धरती पर जैसे सुनहरी चादर सी छा गयी,
ऐसी कितनी ही बारिशें मैंने देखीं ,
कितने सवेरे हुए-
हर सुबह पहले से ज्यादा खूबसूरत!
हर बार मेरे साथ थे कुछ लोग
जिनका जितना भी शुक्रिया अदा करूँ कम होगा,
क्योंकि मुझे हमेशा लगा के उन्होंने मुझे जितना दिया,
उसके मुकाबले में शायद कुछ भी नहीं लिया |

फिर ऐसा क्यों लगता है कि वो बस एक भ्रम था,
क्यों लगता है के हम बस मुसाफिरों कि तरह मिले थे ,
हर एक अपनी मंजिल की ओर अपना रास्ता बनाता हुआ,
और रास्ते में मिलते हुए लोगों को कुछ न कुछ सिखाता हुआ,
और उनसे खुद भी कुछ न कुछ सीखता हुआ |
लगता है वो सारे चेहरे भी मुझसे कहीं दूर जा रहे हैं,
और शायद फिर कभी वापस न आयें..
क्या पता शायद मुझे भूल भी जाएँ!
लेकिन मैं शायद उनमे से एक को भी न भूल पाऊँगी !
नयी जगह, नए लोग ,नए दोस्त,नया काम-
ये सब हमारे बाहरी रूप और हाव भाव को बादल सकते हैं,
लेकिन उन चेहरों में से हर एक ने मेरे सफ़र को और भी खुशनुमा और मनोरम बनाया-
मुझे जीना सिखाया,
मुझे शायद इतना बदल के रख दिया जितना कभी कोई और नहीं कर पाया!
हर एक चेहरा अब मेरा एक हिस्सा सा बन गया है-एक अटूट हिस्सा |
और शायद मैं भी हूँ उन सब में कहीं न कहीं-
वो बस इसलिए नहीं दिखाते क्योंकि इस से शायद उन्हें अपने रस्ते पे चलने में ,
और मुझे मेरे रस्ते पर चलने में कहीं कोई तकलीफ न हो |

प्यार, दोस्ती और दुश्मनी- ये सब शायद बड़े ही छिछले शब्द हैं
उस वक्त के लिए ;
क्योंकि ये सब वक़्त के साथ साथ कम भी हो सकते हैं,
भुलाए भी जा सकते हैं |
ये शब्द जैसे हर चीज़ को एक तस्वीर में बांध देते हैं;
बंध जाने से उस समय की खूबसूरती कम हो जाती है;
इसलिए मैं बस उस समय को ही अपने मन में समेट कर रख रही हूँ
जैसा भी वह था-बस वैसा ही रहेगा मेरी यादों में,
शायद यही मेरा सामर्थ्य है,
या फिर विवशता...

क्या पता किसी दिन ऐसी ही किसी अनजान लम्बी राह पर
उनमें से कोई एक चेहरा फिर कहीं मिल जाए,
और वो भी शायद बोले कि उसे भी ऐसा ही लगा जैसा मुझे लगा!
क्या पता कोई नया चेहरा किसी नयी राह पर मिले!

DO I HAVE TO STOP DREAMING DAD?????

When I was hardly three years old, I overheard three neighbours talking about the best school in town.
Uncle 1: " Dada which school should I get my son admitted to??? I'm in a fix! This little chatterbox does everything except padhai! His Mom and I are at our wits' end in getting him learn even the alphabets and numbers"
Aunt 2: " Mount Assisi, aur kahan!! Is saal ka national topper wahin ka hai. Bhaisaab ye bhi koi poochne waali baat hai!! Apna Monu bhi toh wahin padhta hai.",pat came the reply.

I was pretty much impressed by their conversation and the first thing that I told my Mom after that  this is it -MAS is the school I want to get into. No wonder, I got into the best school in Bhagalpur. My parents were proud to have succeeded in their first step towards imparting me the best education that was within their reaach.


I wasn't poor in studies, but somehow I always used visit the classrooms where extra Drawing classes were held for students, after class hours. I used to get fascinated by beautiful sceneries and sketches on the blackboard and wished that someday I would be able to draw all these...


On my terrace was kept an old "banjo", I was told that my Kaku (uncle) used to play it in his teens. I sometimes longed to play a musical instrument...

When I was in the Second grade, I stealthily went to the neighboring colony to a Didi's  place with my fellow colonite Shiuli. Shiuli had told me that Didi used to learn Classical Music and taught it to kids like us. I was elated when Di taught me my first sa-re-ga-ma-pa...and could not contain my happiness when she told that I can sing well....O My!!! How happy I was! I  rushed home to tell my mom the Breaking News.
"Why did you go to her house?" asked Mom.
"Shiuli was going. I thought music will be fun",I replied with a long face at the bucket full of water that Mom's reaction had thrown on my enthusiasm.
"But Beta, you have to study. Look at Madhu (my neighbouring aunt's neice). She sings so well. Her Dad got her trained in Classical Music. But what's the result?? Participating in national level competitions,but cannot pass her school exams. I cannot understand how such kids will end up earning their bread and butter! I dont  want to see you failing sweetie!" was Mom's explanation. "Now do not go to that Di's house ever. Why disturb her?"
"But Mummy!! What's wrong...erm..with music???"
"You have to study child."

OK. Shiuli can learn music once in a while but Nupur has to study. Accepted.

My musical misadventures continued in the LA periods that we had as the last period on Fridays. Sometimes it was a soft number from A R Rehman's Bombay,at other times melodies from Anand. My classmates and I used to get very excited if anybody in the class would sing the full song  "Achcha sila diya tune mere pyaar ka" sung by Sonu Nigam. We actually were fans  of this oh-what-a-heartache number, like the entire country. Its quite ironic that I now despise such "emosanal attyachaar" type of songs .

On Sunday afternoons when I sometimes sat by my Grandpa's side, he used to give me examples of scientists-Madam Curie was his favourite! He said I should study hard to become one.  In Class Two,scientists used to fascinate me.I thought they might be cool people discovering new things.Okay Dadu!! I'll try my level best to become a Scientist.

There is another contradictory aspiration that I nurtured at that point of time. I was a freak in following beauty pageants right from Std Two-courtesy the 1994 jackpot that India struck at the Miss World & Miss Universe pageants. I had a calendar of the two beauties that made India proud,namely Aishwarya Rai & Sushmita Sen,courtesy the brand new Kelvinator refrigerator that Papa had brought home. I was in their awe. I kept following beauty pageants till Seventh Grade. I dont know why but as a kid they fascinated me. I loved the panache with which the participants sashayed down the ramp,showcasing their talents and touring the world - getting paid for looking great and enjoying life! I took special notice of the Judges' Question Rounds and loved to listen to different and innovative answers. I loved their long evening gowns,the elegance and the fun. And I loved the way Eric Morley declared "And the Miss World 199x is .....". As a kid I looked a lot less nerdy than I now look 'cause I didn't wear spectacles. And I thought that if at all I become as tall as those Miss XYZs were, I could try my luck there. I was desparate to grow taller and often told my Mom "Ma ,aap bhi zaada lambi hoti toh I would have been taller!" Wow,a kid in standard Two planning to enter beauty pageants. Beauty business is something that now irritates me for its ostentation. I hate superficiality. But still, as a kid I have dreamt of this as well !!!!!!!!!!! Sound ludicrous now,ha! My friends will roll in laughter when they read this because they know what a fashion disaster I can be :D


Anyway, thank God dreams don't require a prepaid/postpaid connection :)


When I was in the Fourth grade, I read an article in my school magazine. It was titled " My Aim In Life" and was written by Ankur Choudhry- the star student of my school. "Legend has it that Ankur hasn't forgotten even a single thing he's read ever since he's begun studying,"  was what our teachers told us. I was in his awe. So I read his article. It went like- " Life without an aim is like a boat without sails..............................................................................................My aim in life is to become a doctor and serve the society." WOW!!!!!!!! I was glad to know that a doctor serves the society by treating the sick,old and poor...lol!! This might sound shallow but it was about time when Papa asked me "Beta,aap kya ban_na chahte hain?" and I instantaneously replied "DOCTOR" !


It was 1998. I was now in the senior section of my school. We had more subjects to study- History,Civics,Geography,Literature,Physics,Chemistry,Biology......and not to forget Moral Science. But I 

enjoyed History the most. Ancient History-wonderful ... most people wont believe me but I used to read about Indus Valley Civilizations, Aryans, Gupta age,and all that from all textbooks that I could lay hands on.I would find out for all possible History texts in my home,right from my Grandpa's bookshelves to my aunt's books packed in cartoons more than a decade ago! That was the time when I began watching watching Discovery Channel -the Pyramids of Egypt,the Maya civilization,Mesopotamia,Rome,Forts,Palaces,excavations,the mystery of King Tut,Vedas.....I knew what I wanted to become-ARCHAEOLOGIST!!! Yes this was it! I was made for this. That year Dad took us on a trip to Agra,Jaipur,Fatehpur Sikri & Udaipur & my love for History knew no bounds...

Alas! We had Medieval History next year and my love for History was now a history!

Hey,but I was happy folks!!! We had an amazing Biology syllabus and an even more amazing teacher-I thought I could now be a Doctor in making. Skeletons,Foetuses,and brains in our Bio lab were now arousing my interest . I was diligently into bio and just desired reasonable grades in other subjects. Maths was anathema. OK. So what if I was fed up of always being stuck on the fourth position in my class in all examinations I studied diligently for? I gave shit to it. But I could not stand favoritism by teachers. I remember screwing up when asked to solve Maths problems on the blackboard.And the teacher told me-"Shreya why do you have to move your fingers all around your head for a simple 1.25*5." Then I realised how dumb I was to solve it as 1.25x5= 1x5+0.25x5  HUH!!!!!! Papa was fed up of my mathematics marks always hovering in the ballpark of 40s. Somehow I was beginning to believe that I was a dumbo.Those days everyone was like "Oh beta! you are in 7th std now,only 3 years to Board exams! Its high time you should be serious about studies." As if scoring in Board exams was like landing on moon.And being unable to score in mathematics was some sort of a curse. C'mon Mom,Dad,uncles &aunts,what on earth is so special about Board Exams??????????????? My Grandad told me about his times-how he was the only guy in his village to pass the Board exams with a first class when their exams were conducted by Calcutta University! Great time to carry forward the yoke of family traditions! I felt more ashamed of my mathematics marks when I saw that most of my relatives were working in banks..!!  What a disgrace,black sheep I was -or so I thought.

Anyway, I again stood FOURTH in VIIth. I was kind of jinxed at number four.

Std. VIII- First day of the class- I clearly remember our Principal , Fr. Chittoo hastily entering our classroom."So this is VIII B. Children ,Assisi has its hopes hooked on to you. SHIT. Now live up to the hopes of Assisi. For the first time I was delighted to score highest marks in Physics.Huh! I forgot Quizzing,Music ,History,Beauty Pageants,novels,medicine.....when I saw a yellow piece  of paper pinned to the Bulletin board of class XII the school- "INDIAN INSTITUTES OF TECHNOLOGY   BOMBAY,DELHI,GUWAHATI,KANPUR,KHARAGPUR,MADRAS ...............JEE......." .I cannot exactly tell whether it was this notice or the hype of our star alumni, but IX,X,XI,XII and an year after that...four priceless years of my life -everything revolved around Xth Boards,IITJEE,IITJEE,IITJEE and IITJEE. I hardly did anything else. My love for literature remained. But the time that it found in my schedule almost vanished.
The year I was in Std XIIth, I came to know that Ankur Choudhry had secured AIR 14 in IITJEE and a seat in the prestigious CSE at IITK!
I managed to find myself a seat in BIT Sindri. 

Books ,books and more books....no time for anything else..I didn't know why I was studying...

Chetan Bhagat rightly says,"First they tell you to study hard for two years and crack one entrance exam.And after you have studied hard for four more years,they again tell you to study hard and crack another entrance exam."  

Its strange.I had almost forgotten dreaming. And now when I have begun dreaming once again, my Dad's words constantly ring in my ears- " Pehle daal roti ka jugaad kar lo,fir hawaa mein udte rehna".

DO I HAVE TO STOP DREAMING DAD?

I LOVE...

I love waking up early in the morning,though I can't,
I love to hide Papa's things for simply no reason other than he getting angry on me for nothing,
I love holding my friends' hands when I walk with them on the pavement,
I love standing on the chair in the auditorium and dance to the beat of the item numbers,
I love the smile on anyone's(that includes myself) face when they remember something sweet,
I love when my friends hold my hands to make me cross a busy road-it makes me feel like a kid,
I love stealing my brother's share of rossogullas from the fridge-it makes him tease me,
I love my Mom singing in the kitchen-it adds to the delicacy of whatever she is cooking...
I love watching the kids play kabaddi in the park-and that they use chappals to divide the field makes me laugh!
I love humming tunes to myself when riding on the back seat of a bike,
I love picking up fights for unequal division of chicken pieces in a restaurant  when with friends,
I love flunking the exam just because I entered the examination hall thinking of Pehla Nasha...
I love long conversations going deep into the nights and refusing to die even in the morning..
I love calling friends and asking them,"Kuch naya bataa yaar!"
I love watching schoolchildren waiting in a queue for their schoolbus,
I love to see a toddler walking on the sidewalk with his Mom and Dad holding each of his hands,
I love to remember my first day in my school- the day my parents took me for the interview,
I love to lick the chocolate from the wrapper-no matter how dirty it makes me look,
I love to get wilder with the meal when people watch me eating at the restaurants,
I love to cry when watching SRK telling Kajol,"Marry Me!"
This one sounds a bit embarassing,but its true-
I actually,really love getting dramatic and melodramatic with my friends during some of the conversations.
And I love crying at movies-I feel human!
I love getting dumb when friends tease me-I love not defending myself as I am happy to see them smile ;
I love gifting chocolates to my friends 'cause I know they'll be sharing it with me!
I love visiting Orkut profiles of people I adore when I miss them,
I love the fact that the only thing that comes to my mind when the college ATM machine is out of order and I am left with not more than a hundred bucks is-"Oh My God! I just hope I don't die hungry!!"
I love forwarding song lyrics to my friends so that they can forward them to their girlfriends,
I love keeping my music player permanently in the Repeat mode-listening the same song over and over again.
I love to lie down on the bed even after I am awake-just thinking about everything.
I love to torture the salesmen in shops by trying out stuff that I know I will never buy for myself.
I love trying umpteen times to make the perfect Maggi!
I love to celebrate by bingeing when I flunk my exams,
I love the smell of the earth when it rains...
I love windy days-it makes me feel so romantic,
I love when friends reply instantly,
I love to sit by the lakeside,
I love being woken up in the morning by my Mom..
And I love throwing tantrums on days when she doesn't wake me up.
I simply love sitting on the corner table and munching the cheese sandwiches and paav bhaaji with a cuppa hot coffee..
I love cracking jokes and laughing at them all alone-with the rest of my friends laughing at me!
I love Googling my name,my friends names...thinking someday we might make more popular searches..!
I love gazing at the star-studded night sky with a romantic tune plugged into my ears..
I love frequent Hellos from friends,
I love forgetting things midway when explaining to friends.
I love hugging my Mom,
I love... and I know I can fall in love,love and be loved-despite the world thinking otherwise..!

Love ya MOM.....!!!!

Mums are the most understanding people you'll find on this planet. They seem to have a sixth sense that gives them an insight into our minds. I very honestly feel that the proverbial "umbilical cord" is never ever severed on their side, even if we become oblivious to it. It can never be. So, I dedicate this post to the woman who is the source of all my strength-my MOM. You are my first love MOM!! I love you more than any other thing or anyone else in this world and will be loving you all my life. I am whatever I am because of you!

When tears are frozen in my lonely eyes,
You may not know why, but you know there are-
Feelings buried deep inside;
My dreams, daydreams and nightmares.
When I go numb and close my eyes
To reality,
You're always there-
When all those spineless "pillars of support"
Themselves turn fragile
showing helplessness in standing by my side,
You are the only one who remains firm
And tells me - "Go on child!
Your trust is priceless.
Don't place it with those
Who leave you
Alone and helpless."

When I've shed tears
You were the only one who cried.
When I had fears,
You taught me to take things in my stride
And move on.
I moved ahead.
Made "friends".
Had good times.
And soon I realised
That friends can be of help
only in good times.
They cannot read my mind-
And say it makes them weak.
They know not how I've cried
hiding my sobs in the most ubiquitous things.

You taught me -
To depend on things that truly last;
To hold on to my dreams even in the worst of times;
To listen to my conscience when the world crashes down;
That the values that diligence teaches is priceless in that it makes me stronger than most in many ways.
You made me realize
The importance of free thoughts-
And that only an unfettered mind
Can fly high above the clouds
And yet with feet firmly on ground.
I love you Mom!

Objection Overruled....!!!!!!!!!!!!

The following are some typical Indian love stories I have seen -

1.  Boy meets girl. Talks to her. They fall in love. They are from different communities. Boy's family has no objection to love marriages as long as the groom is not their son. Girl's family has no objection to inter-community marriages as long as their daughter isn't the bridegroom. They still love each other, are independent individuals with egalitarian thoughts. 
2. Boy talks to a girl on phone. Finds that they share similar ideals. He hasn't met her even once the but ends up falling in love with her because he ended up sharing more about himself with her than  with anybody else. They finally part ways because though with similar ideals, their expectations from life are way too different.
3. Boy likes girl. Girl likes boy. But their liking for their dreams and ambitions is probably stronger than their liking for each other, despite their families liking each other too. So they don't express this mutual liking and single-mindedly pursue their ambitions- leaving things at the mercy of time.
4. Boy and girl love each other. Girl's family creates trouble. They try to prolong things as far as possible, so that they are independent by the time a marriage is on the cards. Girl's family continues creating trouble persistenly. They end up eloping to get married.

 The simple thread that ties all these apparently unrelated love stories is the maturity that our generation possesses. This is a generation which, according to Chetan Bhagat , wants almost everything by the time it has attained the age of 25. It stands with its feet firmly placed on the ground. Yet, it has its dreams. This is a generation that is truly witnessing the coming of age of the independent India. So what wrong does the society or the older generation find if the youngsters today feel they are capable enough of taking their own decisions- and definitely do so with a completely open mind. They respect age and tradition, as long as these are not a burden that does not command respect.

For two responsible people who love and respect each other, and accept each other as distinctly different individuals, eloping is definitely the most abhorred and quite obviously the last option. They would prefer trying all other options that make their families love each other and each others' families as well before they resort to the last option.

India is an independent country for the last 62 years. It's high time its citizens become free-thinking individuals- because such meaningless barriers that our mind creates in the name of caste, status or religion only ends up impeding ourselves. The old should give way to the new. The new should respect  the old- for the simple reason that it would not have been new had not the old chosen to be called so. And at the same time, the old should also respect the new. This mutual respect is the foundation of any progressive society.

The youth is not here to accept things in stagnation.
They are here to be the change they believe in. And this is not a hollow election  one liner for them!

Can Somebody tell me who exactly is a "Marathi manoos"??????????

How do we exactly define who a Bengali is?
Is it someone who is able to speak Bengali,or someone capable of learning Bengali language and/or tradition ?
Is it someone who has deep respect for Bengali culture and gets absorbed in it? Or is it someone who a Bengali by birth? Worse, would it be someone(like me) who was born a Bengali but shows not much interest in following the rich cultural and traditional heritage of Bengalis?
I personally know a Bihari girl who had no particular interest in these pursuits but began loving Bengali culture-and at the same time forming a very egalitarian opinion about the pluses and minuses of the Bengali society when she spent a few years in Kolkata. And I happen to know about a guy, who does know to speak Bangla, but has learnt to read and write in the language just by reading the hoardings, advertisements and other street graffiti in Kolkata in the past three years. And not to forget ,I am a Bengali by birth, but without much interest in the typical camaraderie that Bengalis feel on meeting another person with a familiar surname- and I choose to use the "Bengali" tag only when it can be made use of for benefit. Not that I nurture any disrespect for it-I just am a bit careless and indifferent in this regard.

So, my question is still not answered. Am I a better Bengali or are my friends who love to celebrate this culture and effortlessly slip into the "mishti"  Kolkata milieu?

Let us think over some more questions.

Who is more civilized- a posh Delhiite scornfully calling an autorickshaw driver a "Bloody Bihari" or a Bihari anonymously earning his living in a distant land and keeping mum on the pretext of this "distant land" providing him his daily bread (and butter, if he is able to afford it!).

Who is a better Kashmiri- a directionless born-in-Kashmir youth who ends up in a militant camp,only to kill his brethren later on? Or is it a soldier who spent days and nights trying stop bullets and bombs from striking innocent people of the battered state?

After considering all these questions,can we categorise who is more Marathi?
Can this be answered on the basis of  birth, descent or jingoism?
Sadly, such is the state of affairs of our country that we have left the responsibility to answer this question in the hands of a few goons who manage to find themselves seated in the once-upon-a-time hallowed portals of power, only to end up flinging microphones,chappals and pieces of furniture on their compatriots for not choosing a particular language to swear the oaths to their office. Should it not be left to the individual to decide his tastes and preferences? Does the language in which the oath is uttered have any say in deciding who better serves the people?

Every individual loves to respect the set of cultural values he has grown up with. But does it imply we disrespect those with different set of values? In that case , how can we expect others to respect our values?
Its plain and simple- I don't need to be a Marathi to learn and respect Marathi culture. Nor does a Marathi need to eat "doi maachch"  or taste rossogullas in order to respect Bengalis. All that we need is to respect the simple ground reality-each individual is different. If siblings can have different tastes and preferences, why expect everyone on earth to have tastes identical to ours! If I don't like raw fish, why should I expect the Japanese to quit eating sushis? They have been loving it for ages!

So why take to street fights to resolve a problem, which has its roots in our minds!

Mr. Raj Thackeray and his followers harass North Indians on the pretext of their definition of "Marathi manoos". Can somebody please tell me what exactly is the definition of a "Marathi manoos"?
In this context, at least I beg to differ from their point of view.
In a state that faces grave issues of concern such as poverty, drought ,malnutrition, communalism and not to forget the alarming rates of suicides by farmers despite a loan waiver and a relief package by the Centre, does such hooliganism find any justification- a rational answer cannot be anything that strays from NO.

Probably the MNS itself needs a "navnirman" !