Kala Godha

A place at two time zones, can be scarily unfamiliar.

The Other Within Us: Women

I am obssessed with this plural. Mine is often a love-hate relationship. I applaud at the intensity of courage and craziness that women display. Squirm, frown and scowl at the core of their characters. The paradox is sometimes just too contradictory to fathom.

Women in general are fickle and unpredictable - they are more farcical than most male comedians ever born. Although, I want to refrain myself from 'generalizing' the gender, I am rendered helpless. And here, because it is my space - I am liberally forgiving myself for making sweeping generalizations. My closest friends are men, only because I can not trust women, only because I know them too well, only because if I were in their shoes - I would bite the other person raw.

Still, (paradoxically) every woman in my life has a special place, her wit, beauty, arrogance, courage, surrender and love has taught me more about living than 25 years of my living. They are the kindest and the coldest - and are best at being both. However they are very unreliable, especially when it comes to the men they love. Their sense of achievement, their pride, their values - everything can be tossed out of the window with the blow dryer. Time and again, close friends, siblings, acquaintances behave and react in ways that would make me doubt their level of common sense (forget intelligence).

I can now firmly conclude (after enduring women bosses and HODs) that women can not handle power - every time they raised to the position of responsibility and power - they became tyrannical. They fret and exploit and get more insecure, apart from the emotional part - professionally they take up too much responsibility to prove their mettle. Never heard of biting more than you can chew? Ahhaan, that does not mean that they will not complete the task, they will - even if it means tearing their hair and everyone else's!

Incidentally all world's evils are rooted in mothers - they teach a whole lot of drab shit to their kids, including yours and mine. The lessons may seem wise and right to us especially now, but gradually when you see yourself as a decimal in the cosmos - you know it's an abysmal pot hole that you will have to fill.

At a recent ashram visit- I met this global philosopher who was enjoying being treated as a god man. He is talking of Karma and that everything happens for the good. Amidst the questions, an old lady comes to him and says

Old Lady : "I have spent all my life behind my child, I taught him everything, cared for him, loved him more than myself. Today he left me at this Ashram's main gate to spend the rest of my sick old age."

Philosopher (a little enraged, stares at her and questions) : "Whose fault is it?"

Old Lady (with tears in her eyes) : "My son's of course, what kind of question is that?"

Philosopher : No, It is you. Didn't you always tell him to have everything for himself? Did you not forbid him from sharing anything of his with fellow students and colleagues, be it a silly school lunch box or a toy, his poor troubled friends or his study notes or his work. You, for years and years over taught him to exclude everything - now he has excluded you. He has done what he was taught.

The lady went hysterical, and so did the crowd. I have no clue, nor did she as to how he knew about it but that is not important. The fact remains that mothers' do this and a whole lot more. The moment I thought of this - I had a list of parents who had, have and would say it to their children. So many times my mom has asked me to 'have it all', don't give, don't trust - silly goose!

I do not know if it is the right way - the Wise Capitalist believes it to be so. I am as usual caught in constant conflict.

The Militant, The Mimic, The Moderator and The Mute

Warning: This is not an intelligent post, just an observation.

At the lunangular Moss being his usual self, voiced 'social citizen's' concern over 'development'. This discussion went on to become a battle of rights and wrongs; aimless, inconsequential argument over topics ranging from commercialization exploiting the unpronounceable land, to activism of the paper tigers (a term coined by Androgyny, or it is said so) scared me with the burning rage I saw in Moss's eyes.

Black Pearl accused me of living in theories and as this discussion progressed - i found myself trapped - like in Shoba's class, in the child labour conferences, in the women's bill drafting meeting. It was a 'the cat is clawing on my door' feeling, and I didn't like it at all. Debates surge a different energy and provide a different high that stifles the clean space on a page. Moss was on the brink -- his lack of serious sensibilities towards 'real' issues, channelises his fury into the lower rung of pro-development advocacy: the gutters that will never breed any good.

Hypothetically speaking any social order constitutes to the four M's :

the Militant, the Mimic, the Moderator and the Mute.

The Militant is a human thought who believes in action for reaction. He is our malicious opportunist. Examples lay in policy makers, corporate lemon squeezers, arms market dealers, advertising industry gimmicks, multiple choice consumerism et. al. They are known to exploit the world at large by always taking more than they give. This zone of human thought is usually neutral of emotions and in it's loyalty does not belong to anyone or anywhere.

The Mimic settles in the lower rung; learning and multiplying from its nexus with the Militant. This group flowers on mutual profits (when on the same side of the fence). Religious fundamentalists, activists, social- governing bodies, pharmacy giants, media, etc... They are the face of the shining/ shadow side of the powerful militant; they interpret and display the core ideology for the masses. A quality prominent of this segment is a generous peppering of names, shallow knowledge of the core ideology and unreasonable conviction. They are the loudest cheerleaders or opposites.

The Moderate is often the furniture of the system. The active, affluent, educated form the group - the common bonds are the rising feelings of futility, different set of priorities, set goals to be achieved, and a desensitized skin. They are often found in the working class, or professionals who, swim in the ocean without befriending or antagonising the militant.

The Mute are the marginalised. They thrive on invisibility and are often buried under the shadow of the Mimic. The Mute as a group is fluid, it may be a group of oppressed communities, a negated religion, a destroyed culture or a language pushed into oblivion. Their stories are often told with great drama, however we do not see/hear them. And because they are Mute (without voice, power or information) they are at the mercy of the Mimic or the militants, and both exploit and profit from their empty status.
--
The circle shall not change, it will move, the mimics will become militants, the moderates the mutes, the mutes the mimics, etc... the word progress comes with a baggage 'at whose cost', someone pays for all our comforts and luxuries and we do for someone else's too.

Choose your side of the coin.

overhearing

Scene: On my way back home, in the train compartment. Aboard two college girls, laughing (not giggling), talking loudly, dragging their speech with an acquired accent. they plonk on the seats, one beside me the other opposite her.

"A- That was sooo Dumb!
B- kmpltetlllllyyy

A- (in nasal voice) I just hope this dammed thing looks good (twisting her fake blond streak).
B- Oh come one- let me do the VJ Anushaa thing (ties her hair with a claw in a perfect twirl, giving the blond streak a classy effect)

A- the compartment is so dead!
(every woman turns only to throw identical dead-pan looks)

A- I have a chocolate!
B- U are supposed to lose weight not gain it!

A- i exercise and i didn't have lunch
B - hey, i may have a fruit- its much more nutritious.

A - Okay! but don't stare at my chocolate.
B- ya, right- you don't stare at my figure."

the approx. weight for A- 55, B- 38-40.

As Drama King says, "Being fat is the crime of the century!"

Work v/s Time

I work in a publication house: there are times of the month when 'stress' and 'deadlines' sound euphemistic understatements to what we are going through. But as the mag hits the stands there is a lull: no real work, research- time, culling out ideas; basically a whole lot of time-pass. That week according to me is wasted on blogs, vogue, esquire, social networking sites, quizzla,etc: when i could do a whole lot of fun/quality things but nah! NO organisation believes in letting their employees be and i have come to terms with the same.

Something that was personal became universal in this week: two friends quit high paying jobs in one day one and on one loose thought. Randomly read three blogs about working; loving or hating it. Then i read
http://www.stevenmsmith.com/my-blogs/management/full-time-pay-for-half-time-work.html read it...

I agree and most of you will too. But the breed of human resource professionals don't. [i nurture few prejudices and amongst them is a nauseating hatred for HR. They are the firm's happy face to exploit you; negotiate your pay when u deserve more - bunch of hypocritical, good for nothing troublemakers, who waste every body's time in ridiculous discussions, tests, charts lectures etc... Like advertising, investment, insurance and credit cards: HR belongs in the category of con jobs.]

I know how much time i kill doing one piece: coz if i finish it in 2 hours what will i do for the rest of the day? HR is to blame!

Back to arbeiter angst-- my office HR rules changed; reporting time: 9am- 5:30pm. Post 9:15 - half day, post 1 pm-- absent. Pay will be cut if you come late or leave early. I have no issues with the arrangement; just a Q to all HR professionals: If u are going to cut every penny from the minuscule you pay, why don't you pay overtime?

When meeting deadlines -- nobody looks at the in-out time. People walk in at 8:30am and walk out at 10 pm and return by 9am: is that fair? What about when there are events and parties to network: why not compensate that?

How does time matter when it's the work that should?
I believe till you are doing your job- it shouldn't matter how/ where/when u do it. Loudmouth disagrees.
What do u think?

iPOD Bhajan

I have reiterated that we are in digital times. God, too has become mobile.Earlier there were audio bhajans; yesterday, i saw one that had taken the visual face. A video of some Astha/Sanskriti channel god-man; dancing in a trance like high on a krishna bhajan. [Irrespective of my first thought that he looked like a bihari/ U.P fraud]
What I found intriguing was-- the lady, listening to it and grooving to the rhythm of the bhajan: at 8 am in a super crowded, dark, humid, temperamental first class compartment.

Her trimmed hair gave her a professional 'regular' no fuss look. Her Salwar kameez without dupatta, gold ornaments, her savvy Baggit bag, the iPOD --completed the above-average, affable working class woman. Then why would she resort to obvious looking fraud god man singing a bhajan in karaoke? Can't she read a good book instead?

I am being judgemental; but something in me pinched with sarcasm when i saw her; fuck me: there was no place to sit, not enough air to breath and everyone standing had either their butts or their pubis in your face. [my innate fear is that someone is going to fart in my face someday- precisely why I take an empty train to work and walk in with the canteen boy].

She was enjoying in her trance state, intermittently checking up on stations; smiling at chatty, gossipy, dhokla nibbling women working in RBI.

Her composed gait unrested me, then it dawned that she had made her peace with all the brouhaha around her: she indeed had! And the 'hows' didn't matter at all.

obs

I prefer to write in a blind ‘I’ and ‘You’,
Can’t write about the ‘One’: deaf and invisible.
Fascinatingly the One is often plural.

Mar(ri)age

I have discovered another category that lives in the business barracks,on the floor of barter, marketing and presentation.
Nameplate: Marriage.

Observation teaches that all relationships are like plants; the seeds are sowed when eyes meet,growth is ensured as you hold hands, flowers bloom when you kiss and then like autumn it goes dry.Like a ditch in summer dies it's natural death, only to be reborn in spring and rain when frogs croak.

Marriage, unlike most plants; rots, it does not die, degenerates till it starts to stink. Like weed, it smells fowl and is equally addictive. Repulsive to the thought of being pulled out and forced to grow. It is a slow systematic decay of love, devotion, trust, communication and sex and not in that order.
It is like a bad habit- you know it's there, you know something is wrong but you can’t reverse it. Procrastination and avoidance are its two hands: it’s best to ignore and change the room or the side of the bed than confront. Also saying it when the moment is right and knowing that the right time will never arise is great relief.

Marriage is a garden: a perpetual responsibility. You have to water it every single day of your life, clip it, trim it to keep it alive and looking good. Forget it for a couple of days or take a break, relax, breathe and it’s gone! It's drying and the weeds have outgrown, the damage is irreversible.

The situation makes you feel dysfunctional and emetic. But once you get used to the smell of decay and vomit, like the doctors get used to the hospital smell or workers at the petrol station; you won’t bat an eyelid. It will be ‘as things are’.You will rebuke and miss it, when you witness a fresh breeze of love on beaches and at bandstand. You will rush back to it, cuddle and cajole in warm breeding grounds.
It's the same feeling as inhaling Bombay’s carbon mono oxide,once you are addicted to it, inhaling fresh air makes you sick.