Confused without, brewing within!

Note: This post is a reflection on the evolving society around me and the way I see it. The post is intensely drawn from my own everyday experiences - the things I see and hear, read on newspapers, gather from discussions with my friends and the like. Therefore, I guess I speak more for me than for my generation.

This generation may seem confused and all over the place but I definitely believe it is tremendously brewing within into that terrific stew that melts pragmatism and ideology in one boiling pot. Guys my age are forever getting ready, trying to grow old without growing boring; to gain information without hopefully, losing touch with morals; to grow in efficiency without compromising on a balanced life. But what they also have to do if they want to really contribute, is to bite the bullet - to take a leap of faith at some point and start facing things head on instead of hiding behind pseudo-intellectual discussions.

Taking that decision and owning up to it may make all the difference. I read in newspapers about women being molested and raped, about neglected tropical diseases, 1.4 billion people living in extreme poverty around the world, ugly corporates turning the world slowly into a dumping place of refuse and dirt. And I read about real social sector initiatives, I see a guy working ceaselessly from dawn to dusk in pursuit of his dreams and I see happy couples, young and old, enjoying the breeze in the beach with a content smile on their faces.

So what's it going to be? Is Mr. GenX going to be satisfied by educating his grandmother to send mails or donating clothes to the poor and being a good Joe? Or is he going to do his bit of activism and get involved in social issues, exercise his right to information and encourage public debate and initiate awareness on key issues?

I feel the problems the world is facing has compounded infinitely in the last few decades. But the world has also matured and bloomed in these decades. Just like a middle-aged man has more issues to deal with than an infant, so it is with the world. But just like him, the world too is now more matured and capable of dealing with those issues than it was a century earlier.

Over familiar through over use

The existing banality of it all is tiring. So there was this day out, when some of us went to watch a movie. And there was the familiar friends circle, a bunch of cool well-educated guys with that local stamp that makes their behaviour all so charming. I remember adoring these guys during my school days and some of my most memorable sporting days were with them. 9 hours a day of cricket during the summer, evening football games during high school, that 25 km cycle ride and a 3 hour soaking ritual in a swimming pool during weekends (yes, absolutely like buffaloes) and that glorious first day-first shows at the end of which we walked out like superheroes, cape and all.

So I met some of these guys after a long gap for a movie. Everyone was placed now and they came with their usual style, bella figuras with funky bikes, casual attitude and a walk like they own the place. We started our chatting and catching up and I realised that they still were the 'local machas' with that lovely stain of the streets of Madras on them. They were hooting and whistling and amusing people but to my surprise, there was an overdose of swearing. The gang was sans my usual close friends. If they'd come, it'd have been like that wonderful football game that Ayyampettai Arivudainambi Kaliyaperumal Chandran graces with his presence in Thillu Mullu (what with all of us having to lie to our bosses for getting off early to make it to the afternoon show).

But what started this way turned topsy-turvy in moments. The guys, I soon realised, were mouthing the same insults at each other and laughing for over-refrigerated and cold storage-d jokes. The laughter was indifferent and mirthless and was way too on-your-face. You say 'fuck' at the right moment once, it makes me smile. You say it 5 times, I shrug, you say it 10 times, it makes me feel uneasy, you keep saying it over and over, I just feel like walking away from your yammer and giving you the one-finger salute. And that's exactly how I felt amidst the group. Without my usual friends who jest at each other gracefully and stretch their imaginations miles apart to act out funny scenarios and creatively taunt the stronger guys in a way that makes the insulted, insulting and the spectators to laugh along and together, these guys were just foul-mouthing again and again putting on a loud exhibition of their shallowness and stupidity. And the situation slowly deteriorated from charming to boring to vulgar and to downright grotesque-ness. I was hanging around trying to conceal my frustration of having wasted a rare free afternoon and ruefully thinking of some blissful hours of sleep I could've caught up on. And then the movie started! Boy, was I relieved! And the movie, at least, turned out to be lovely. That was a real lifesaver. When we came out, the guys kept at it, relentless as they were, criticising the movie, the seats, the crowd. I edged away from the godforsaken group and got back home, deeply disillusioned. What a goddamn waste it is to be so living, as Sir Walter Scott puts it, to disappear into the vile dust whence they sprung; unwept, unhonoured and unsung!

The Traffic Police Transformation Front - Radical Wing!

A few days ago, I was witness to this rather unusual incident in my neighbourhood.

A traffic police distributing pamphlets to motorists. The pamphlet had a list of things to follow while driving. The initiative was part of the road safety day program conducted by the area's Lion's club. There were some school kids and adults volunteering for the activity. In a place where government officials are seldom pro-active, this was a pleasant and mildly amusing sight. As a mark of respect to this club, cop and kids, I wear my helmet each and every day now (though I smuggle my ipod into my ears through the helmet-head boundary. But hey, songs are my only respite while driving in the peak hour rush amidst choked roads, blaring horns and blazing sun.)

Thanks to this incident, I've come up with a set of suggestions on how we can transform the role and image of our city's traffic cops from uncompromising vasool-rajas to stylish and accommodating Major Mannars.

No more traffic cops! Instead Chennai City will have a set of Transport Facilitation Teams. There'll be 17 such teams to cover the 176 sq.km area of the city. So each team gets approximately 10 sq.km of jurisdiction.

Each team will consist of 10 members and their roles will be divided thus:

1. A rocket riders squad - 4 members. These guys/girls will be daredevil cops and would keep patrolling their jurisdiction constantly. In the city's arterial lanes such as GST road, NH road, Arcot Road, there'll be freelancers to assist them (illegal racers and efficient youth can be employed for this). This might also generate part time employment and provide a good avenue for many amazing young riders in the city who find professional racing a costly affair. The rocket riders will chase rash drivers and drunkards and punish them on the spot. This means that they'll be some sort of white knights in an Apache and not the paunchy traditional nose-picking nitwits.

2. Sara Vedi Sirs: 2 members. They are in-charge of complete monitoring and they communicate with the rocket riders and keep informing them as to what is going on around them based in their video surveillance in crucial junctions. They also take care of emergency calls, forward calls to ambulance and act as the big brothers of the traffic scene in their jurisdiction.

3. Mathaappu monks: 2 members. They form the Research and cultural wing of the team. They bring in new ideas to regulate traffic, innovative activities to engage motorists and make their travel tolerable. They also initiate awareness campaigns and bring in an element of fun to the whole scene. During peak hours, they make announcements in crowded spots to aid Sara Vedi Sirs and Rocket Riders.

4. Bijli Vedi Boy and Atom Bomb Uncle: While Bijli Vedi Boy is a mechanic who takes care of problems in signals, CCTVs and also keeps the bikes of the rocket riders and others in fine tune, Atom Bomb Uncle is a construction guy who takes immediate care of minor road problems, ditches, putting in new speed breakers and the sort.

There'll be awards for the best maintained jurisdiction for which a gold rimmed cap would be given to the Officers of the particular team. So hopefully there'll be healthy competition among the 17 teams and the deserved winner will patrol his area proudly with his gold rimmed cap.

This set up would also change the minds of Chennai's commuters. The curse-at-sight & fine-at-sight interaction would give way to mutual understanding and respect for road rules. The traffic cops too wouldn't anymore be sluggish sloths but stylish municipal stars.

Instrument of Instructions (The background of the scene, a concept similar to the directive principles of the Indian Constitution, which was borrowed from the Irish, who in turn took it from the Spanish): Attention should be given to recruitment. For instance, daredevil yet responsible riders for the Rocket team, mature and analytical guys as Sara Vedi Sirs, humorous and pro-active guys as Mathaappu Monks, efficient and active guys as Atom Bomb Uncle and Bijli Vedi Boy would make the Transport Facilitation Team a grand successful combo.

Signing off here is Agarbatti administrator - Shyam.

Mukul from Gopalganj, Bihar.

This is Mukul from Gopalganj, Bihar. He works, like many of his friends, as a contract labourer. He currently installs Air Conditioners for the Anna Centenary Library in Kotturpuram, Chennai. Before this he worked in the Indira Gandhi International airport in Delhi. He moves wherever his contractor takes him. His wage is Rs. 200 per day (around $4), a part of which again goes to the contractor as rent for the place where he stays. He says he takes some money for his food and sends the rest to his family in Bihar. He has two elder brothers and a younger sister. Obviously, he doesn't have the privilege of choosing his profession. Before coming into this vocation, he worked in his brother's barber shop in Assam. After three years there, he and his brother had to confront the fact that the shop wasn't doing well. So his brother, being the elder one, goes into unskilled labour work and Mukul follows suit. He works hard for long hours without any security for his job or life (four of his colleagues died during the construction of this library by falling from the top floors, according to one of the watchmen here. So the authorities organised a pooja, sacrificed a goat and fed the others meat and other delicacies, then resumed construction from the next day).

Right. So that's his square as of now. I ask him if he has an idea on what he wants to do in the long run. Studying is not an option, he says, even if he starts right away, it'd be too little too late and also too damn demanding (financially and psychologically). When I ask him more about it, being a cheerful lad and having that rare air of naivety around him, he smiles, shrugs and makes some vague hand gestures. And I smile with him too. We part ways when we reach the entrance of the library. I go into the glass walls, he remains outside and starts arranging sacks of sand.

Pani puriye sivam

Pani puri is divine. Among all the celestial chaats found in the universe, Pani puri reigns supreme. Made up of that crunchy crispy crust, a delicious potato mash mantle and a tangy, hot pani core, this chatpata explosion will rock your palette and will mutate your sense of taste forever. If you believe in the holy powers of Pani puri and hail HIM to be the supreme prophet to have ever come into the world and frequently visit any of HIS places of worship (I'm a regular at the Pani puri shrine in Nungambakam High Road outside Karishma sarees showroom, Chennai), then you're in the right path that leads to Nirvana. That fuzzy halo which comes around your head when you munch on the golgappas would one day turn bright and lead you to enlightenment. I do strongly recommend all the devotees in Chennai to take a weekly pilgrimage to the Nungambakam High Road shrine.

While it is acceptable to pay your obeisance to HIS cousins bhel puri and dahi puri, do not ever incur the wrath of the Almighty by favouring the Satan trinity of Caesar salad, Arugampul juice (Bermuda grass extract) and Protein shake.

Remember also to chant this secret prayer once a day, O' faithful ones:

Golgappaooo akbar illahee,
Protein shakeee-il-shaithaan;
Pani puryaha kamal hassan shivam,
Arugampullaha nasser rakshas;
Watery Indian Bread, hallowed be thy name,
Caesar salad shall thee burn in hell.

...Amen... (open your mouth wide like eating a pani puri while doing this!)

I hereby also call upon my faithful brothers and sisters who worship HIM in varied incarnations such as Pani puri, golgappa, phuchka, gup chup, watery indian bread, crisp sphere eaten etc., to unite and start a Jihad (for militants) or Satyagraha (fast by eating only pani puri until death, for moderates) and condemn all the faithless blackguard-ism in the world.

Time to take a LOOK around!

In line with the blog's preamble of being a secular, sovereign, democratic, republic page, by the authorities vested in me, I've decided to change the directive principles of the post policy from 'appreciate and communicate beauty' to 'scratch, become aware of, appreciate and communicate beauty, raves & rants, and out of the ordinary issues' with effect from the 12th of January, 2011, by amendment 31A of the Blog's constitution.

Justification:

There are so many fantastic things that happen right around us. Things we fail to REALLY see. Recently when I had this assignment in my office with the theme of getting to know the city, I realised that there are so many heart-warming things and deeply disturbing issues happening right around us. Even after completing the official assignment and moving on to other things, I couldn't help but notice the very many extra-ordinary things that are there dead-right before our eyes. So from now on I've decided to put posts especially on things that I consider 'out of the ordinary' or lovely things that I often take for granted. This I hope would help in my self-development as a person with a better social and aesthetic awareness and understanding.

Mission-ary

Background - It is circa 2050 A.D. The whole world is mechanised and is highly result-oriented. Children are genetically modified with desired traits even before they're born. There is no fun, nor any wisdom. People are lost in information gathering and pursuit of excellence. Men are turning into machines. Homo sapiens (wise man) is extinct and the earth is inhabited by Homo machina. Words like 'leisure', 'dreams', 'arattai', and 'pot-belly' do not exist.

There is a huge commotion in an MBA (Mission Behaviour Analysis) class and people are arguing animatedly over a chapter in their book which has just been covered. Cut.

Same time period. Same chapter. Students in an MBBS (Masters in Behaviour of Bygone Sapiens) class discuss and argue heatedly. Cut.

In their desks, there is a document with a controversial chapter. And the chapter reads as follows:

In the year 2011 A.D, a man belonging to Homo sapiens, a blasphemous loafer who didn't believe in machine-like work, managed to achieve a target with an amount of focus that only machine-worshiping Homo machina are capable of achieving. This was because he had a queer illness called 'emotionalia' (caused by the now extinct species Mycobacterium emotionalisis. For MBBS students: The illness might take an aggressively violent turn, especially in aged female Homo sapiens after 6pm when they watch serials).

Excerpts from his journal:

I've started on a mission to achieve 'A$%^B%$#@C'. But I've found that I'm unfocused and inconsistent because I find routine, machine-like work boring. So I've decided to make my journey fun-filled (Students scratch their head at this new word!). When I start working hard, there are a few symptoms that keep troubling me which might lead to procrastination (students gasp in horror as this is an illness in the Homo machina world called cancer) and laziness (which is AIDS!). But I've found some medications and plan to make use of them as soon as these symptoms rear their ugly heads out.

'Can I get there?' Symptom:

You see, being on pursuit is always tricky. The question keeps coming back to you whenever you rest a bit - Can I get there?

Medication:

Get to work. Whenever in doubt, work. At the end of a power session of work, all those tricky endhorsefins will help get your confidence back. If this doesn't work, think of how Magellan must've felt when he was going around the world. He must've asked himself 'the question' more times in those three years of voyaging than we'd ever ask ourselves in forty lifetimes - Can I get there?

Symptom: Work related dreams. Grrrrr...

Medication:

For those absolute dreamers, meditation is the best medication. If you're new to serious work and these work-related dreams (when the cat says meiow-sis and the duck quakes in Richter scale, you've become a victim of the syndrome!) psyche you out, don't run to a psychiatrist for remedy. Not that I have anything against those spooky gentlemen who've been sending millions to mental health institutions through their therapies, it's just that work-dreams might actually be a good indicator of your progress. Let's look at it that way. Mission-men are supposed to eat, breathe and think only of their goals, right? Dreaming about your mission is a great you're-on-track indicator. Dyslexic cracks like me, moreover, have this advantage of getting breakthrough ideas through dreams. This way, you work even when you sleep! You can even start a dream diary and record your dreams. Many interesting ideas might pop up and it'll make a good story for your grandchildren years later.

I believe:

A mission man need not necessarily be a machine man.
A mission man can be a little ignorant and learn new things about his mission from time to time and it's okay for him to have some fun on the way.
________

Students gape in amazement.

THE END!