Maharani (Web Series) (2021)

Genre - Drama

Cast - Huma Qureshi, Sohum Shah, Amit Sial, etc.

Director - Karan Sharma

No. of episodes - 10

Watch it on - Sony Liv

My View

Despite the good reviews, I was skeptical about watching Maharani for some time. Reason being, most of the dramas on OTT platforms (most prominent examples being Mirzapur, Sacred Games etc.) are loaded with nudity, violence and bad language. One likes to watch good drama, but not at the cost of getting uncomfortable watching a person's eye popped out of his skull on being shot at. Thankfully, Maharani came out totally clean, atleast on the nudity and extreme violent scenes aspect. Considering the plot, expecting abuse free dialogues would be too much.

The series is based on the political scenarios in Bihar in the late 90s. Being a 90s kid, the series just took me back in time when Rabri Devi became the first Chief Minister of Bihar. Although, the makers have tried to stay clear of any possible controversies by clarifying in the beginning itself that the series is fictional, one can easily draw a lot of parallels between the plot and the actual turn of events back then. 

So the story goes like this...Rani (Huma Qureshi), is a simple housewife living in a Bihar village with her three children. While she happens to be the wife of the Chief Minister of Bihar, Bheema Bharti (Sohum Shah), that in no way affects her humility and simplicity. Having no interest in politics, Rani's world revolves around her husband, children, housework and cattle. 

Rani's life changes overnight on an uneventful Chhath eve, when her husband Bheema Bharti is shot in his own village by some unidentified men. The same Rani who had vowed never to leave her village, is forced to move to Patna to attend to her husband. Bheema barely survives the assassination attempt and a paralytic attack however, the future of the CM's seat goes in for a limbo. Amidst joyous opposition leaders and jealous party members, ready to grab the post, Bheema plays a master stroke, by announcing his wife, Rani as the next Chief Minister. 

As an unaware Rani brings a tray of tea cups to serve to party members, she is shocked by the shower of garlands and congratulatory messages. She is shell shocked to find her on the position she has never understood or liked. For the initial few days as the Chief Minister Rani is shown to be furious and non cooperative as a child who doesn't wish to be sent to school.  But when there are attacks on her self esteem and abilities, the queen decides to take charge and famously states in the legislative assembly "The lady who can manage a house, can manage the state." The screenplay, indeed justifies the description as despite being the Chief Minister, Rani is shown to be the loving and caring wife and mother - isn't that the ideal working Indian woman that all husbands and in laws desire?

Struggling to stay afloat in the high tide of political events, the innocent Rani is shown to learn tricks of the trade hard way and often falls prey to conflicts and controversies. As the show progresses, Rani is shaken to discover the muddy reality of the politics that is her husband's first love. But, like the real queen, an honest and sincere Rani is determined to save her state from the corrupted few. In the male dominated political map, she is often compared with Indira Gandhi by her critics and mocked at. Like all women centric political dramas, the protagonist always has to win. Hence, despite all odds, the directors do find some success in throwing some hard to believe events and Rani playing the perfect check mate. 

The screenplay is very gripping and focusses on various issues faced by Bihar in the 90s - caste system, Naxal upsurge, position of women and the infamous scams that once ruled the headlines. 

Huma Qureshi as Rani does justice to the role in every sense and has worked hard to replicate the typical Bihari accent as well. I actually went back to episode 2 after reaching the 8th or 9th episode, just to notice how effortlessly Huma portrayed the drastic transformation from Rani to CM madam.

While Sohum Shah has the obvious meaty role, it is Amit Sial who leaves the audience impressed with his expressions and dialogues, despite being the lead antagonist. For those who have watched Pramod Pathak as the pervert politician in Mirzapur, his portrayal of the loyal Mishraji is a welcome change. Inammulhaq as Pervez Alam with his cute Bangla accent is the hidden surprise. 

Leaving aside some hard to believe scenes, overall the makers of Maharani have proved that a combination of good script and great actors can be the perfect delicacy without the unwanted tampering of nudity and extremely violent scenes.

My Rating - 3.5/5 

Book Review - The Assassinations

Author - Vikram Kapur

Publisher - Speaking Tiger

Genre - Fiction

Pages - 211

Price - Rs. 299

First Impressions

The year 1984 is a very important special year for me, because I was born that year. Well, on the serious front, being a Delhiite I have heard many first person accounts of the 1984 riots. When merely listening to those accounts shook me, imagine what those people would have gone through. I hardly get to read anything about 1984 these days, so I was quite intrigued when i came to know about this book. 

The cover bore a fiery read look, symbolising the flames that had engulfed the once peaceful city and burnt many lives, hopes, desires and friendships. All that they left behind were burnt houses, burnt lives and ugly scars that refuse to leave the hearts of those affected. 

My View
If you have lived in Delhi during the 1980s, you would have your own set of memories related to the 1984 riots, irrespective of your religion. Having been born and brought up in Delhi, I have heard several accounts of the riots from my parents and in-laws. Those few hours of lawlessness left scars of a lifetime to many lives. I recall having once met a Sikh uncle at a social gathering whose one arm was amputated. When I asked my mom how he lost his arm, she made a grim face and told me in a hush tone, "He lost his arm in the 1984 riots". While uncle was happily enjoying his Patiala peg, I am sure the drink would do nothing to remove the ugly memories from his mind. When my mom in law came to know about the plot of the book, she went in past and recalled how houses were burnt in the nearby colonies. In my previous organisation, a Sikh woman told me how she and her family had to hide in the Gurudwara for days before they felt safe to venture outside. 

To feel unsafe in one's own home is the worst fear come true and sadly, this happened in the city I call my home. For those who unlike me, haven't had the chance to hear the stories of survivors, The Assassinations beautifully narrates how one incident can affect the destinies of multiple generations. 

The book portrays through Prem, Deepa and their families the physical, social and emotional trauma people went through in the times that followed the assassination of Mrs. Indira Gandhi. Prem, the son of a migrant Punjabi family and Deepa, the daughter of a an affluent Delhi Hindu family are head over heels in love. Even as Deepa's father, a beaurocrat has his hunch on the upcoming situation becoming tense due to Operation Bluestar, the father in him is unable to say no. While Prem and Deepa are engaged and weaving dreams of a rosy life ahead, the flames of Operation Bluestar and its aftermath reach Delhi. In the lawlessness and riots that followed, Prem was transformed overnight from a guy next door to a youth with endless turmoil going in his mind. The effect is seen on their relationship as well, however keeping the focus on the aftermath, the book does not unnecessarily drags on their relationship. While reading a book like this, one often anticipates the next, so while I had anticipated Prem and Deepa to be the focus till the end, I was shocked when they both die in a militant attack. I think it was the powerful narrative after their untimely death which brings brownie points to the story. The story suddenly shifts focus to the lives that remain, how they try to pick up the remains and move on. While Deepa's parents live a life of endless guilt having agreed for the match, Prem's family tries best to escape the tag of a militant's family. The story fast forwards two decades later, where both families are seen struggling with the after affects of the incident. They do move on physically, however the scars on their hearts refused to fade. 

Hits

• One has to be very careful when touching upon such a sensitive topic as Operation Bluestar and the 1984 riots. I am impressed how the author beautifully captured the pulse of those times without any exaggeration or digression. 

• The chapters are divided aptly before and after 31st October 1984, which makes it easy to understand the sequence of events.

• Each character is penned thoughtfully and has an important role to play in depicting the mindset of each generation.

• The consistent pace of the book is its biggest plus point. Without any exaggeration, the book is able to keep the reader glued and one literally feels transported to 1984. 

• Unlike a lot of books that use such incidents to grab eyeballs without focusing much on the storyline, The Assassinations is a book that delivers what it promises. The powerful story not even once loses focus from the core issue and even as you flip the last page, your heart might say a silent prayer for those who suffered in those horrible times. For a moment, I felt as pained for the characters as I had felt while watching the 90s movie Maachis.

My Rating
4.5/5

A must read, for its powerful narrative.

I received the book from WritersMelon for an honest review.

When daughters make us proud

There was something different about today evening. Unlike most Friday evenings when people are busy partying, surprisingly everyone was in a hurry to reach home. The otherwise office cafeteria buzzing with activity during evening snacks saw many no shows as all were trying to wind up early for the day. The reason was NOT a India-Pak ODI match, but a 21 year old playing to win Gold medal for India.

After all, it isn't a usual affair to witness an Indian player qualifying for the Badminton Singles grand finale in "The Olympics!" 

The wait for next pickup in our Uber Pool cab became unbearable for none of us wanted to be late for the historic match. Finally, when the gentleman arrived after a good 6 minute wait, we were ready with our stinking looks. However, as soon as he entered the cab he said, "Bhaiyya, please try to drive fast, for today is a historic day for us...India might win its first Badminton Gold in Olympics!" While the driver gave a helpless smile, our anger vanished, realising the gentleman too was a part of the match frenzy. The otherwise frustrating ride through Mumbai traffic seemed to appear short and interesting as we kept discussing the sport throughout.

What made me happier was the fact that this was one rare occasion when the whole country was biting their nails for a sport other than cricket! Usually our cricketers take away all the limelight, leaving other sportspersons to make their name count by clinching medals. The fact that my favourite sport Badminton was the hot topic of discussion today had me smiling ear to ear. The Euphoria took me back in time when every evening and every holiday meant a longish date with the Badminton racket and Shuttle cock. My bestie and I indulged ourselves to the game for hours, hitting smashes and trying to freeze the game. Angered by their calls being ignored, our moms would drag us home to have meal or finish homework. 

The passion sadly, had a short life. As I entered the crucial 10th standard, all extra curricular activities were sacrificed in the race to qualify for competitive exams, for having a good career meant becoming a doctor or engineer. Not that there weren't sportspersons making the country proud back then. But the occasions were rare. Lack of opportunities, facilities and exposure prevented sports being seen a stable career option back then.

Today when I see the daughters of our country bringing laurels in the field of sports, my happiness seems no bounds. Finally, Indian parents are waking up to recognise sports at par with other career options. The proud families of Sakshi Malik and PV Sindhu are a testimony to this fact. Beti bachao and beti padhao are no longer just slogans found in speeches and there are parents who in fact are saying, "beti khilao, medal jitao!" 

Of course, the burden of expectations and stress still shows on these young faces. In today's finale, while Spain's Carolina Marin looked relaxed and all set for the fight, the continuous tensed expressions on the face of PV Sindhu didn't go unnoticed by the commentators. Choosing sports as a full time career option still puts double the pressure to excel vis a vis conventional career options. But then, pioneers are those who take the path less beaten and leave their trail behind!

Congrats Sakshi & PV Sindhu! You haven't just won Olympic medals. You have created history, for a daughter has done what no son has ever done! 

P : Premchand : A to Z Challenge

If you are a Hindi literature aficionado, there is one name that for sure would sit with pride on your bookshelf - Munshi Premchand. The king of realism, he centred his writings around social issues in pre independence India. His ability to sensitise his readers with pain of his characters can perhaps be attributed to his difficult life.  That's why, decades later, his stories based in prehistoric India still strikes a chord with modern day readers. 

I was introduced to Premchand by my mother, herself a big fan and there has been no looking back for me ever since.

Many adaptations of Premchand's works have come, but I fell in love with this TV series I found on Youtube last year. Excellent screenplay coupled with power packed performance of industry veterans make these stories a treat to watch.

Here are some episodes of the amazing series - 

Godaan

Nirmala

Sawa Ser Gehun

This post is written for A to Z Challenge

Republic Day – Just a Hashtag?

It’s that time of the year again when Rajpath looks as fresh as a new bride and Rashtrapati Bhawan resplendent with the lights of glorious 67 years of a proud republic. India celebrates its 67^th Republic Day!

For many, it’s #thattimeoftheyear again, when the tricolour ensemble in their wardrobes sees light of the day; when VIP passes for the parade are more sought after than #OnePlusOne invites; when expensive Silks and Pashminas get ready to be flaunted by Mrs. Who’s Who at VIP pavilions of India Gate; when patriotic songs are remembered to be placed as caller tunes, when the boy on the traffic signal selling flags is finally granted his wish; when Selfie sticks get ready to give a perfect #SelfieWithTricolour & when our social media profiles get buzzing with #ILoveMyIndia!

Phew!

For few, #ItsAllAboutLovingADayOff!

When I was still in school, my sister who was pursuing her journalism got an interesting assignment. They had to visit Republic Day Parade and informally ask spectators the reasons that drew them to Rajpath – was it patriotism or just a nice way of celebrating a day off? Republic day celebrations at school for me meant composing and reciting poems and speeches, which I couldn’t have done unless I felt it in me. So, I told my sister my predictions of the survey outcome. However, the results were a far cry from my expectations, for most people in general pavilions said they were there for the lovely tableau and flypast! Of Course, they were able to express themselves honestly in the absence of cameras and in the cover of anonymity. Well, this was years before mobile phones and social media were even born! It was a shock for me, the simple school kid, for we celebrated Independence Day, Republic Day, Freedom Fighter Birthdays etc with much enthusiasm in the innocent confines of our school!

Ah! The good old #AgeOfInnocence!

While last year saw us all swelling with pride at India’s #ObamaMoment, this year has been very different. Many words have been added to the common man’s vocabulary - #Intolerance, #Tolerance, #AwardWapsi, #GharWapsi, #Bigotry, #Casteism etc.

I am a common man woman with limited vocabulary, so I only understand one word - #Insensitivity; towards each other, for only then could have people been so selfish to ignore welfare of others for their vested interests. From “Man is a social animal”, the social has been brutally eaten. Mind It! This isn’t something that has happened this year, we have witnessed enough of this before too and I have blogged about few instances of #Shamelessness that irked me (The Guest Who wasn't spared, Wake Up, One evening in an auto, Letter to Santa from a Delhi Girl, Love Thy Neighbour, Delhi Nautanki, Musings of an old Dilliwala)   . For starters, insensitivity begins with people ignoring a dead man on Gurgaon Expressway and stopping only to capture his pics for their Facebook shares…#Shameless. Then there are people I have met during my weekend trips to Vrindavan who wouldn’t even care to donate had Section 80G of Income Tax Act not existed. Of course, good Samaritans walk this earth too, but the #SelfishnessAboveEverything still trends.

Meanwhile, the #SelfieWithTriColour witnesses a new high score, as does visitors to India Gate & Central Park.

As I sing this song from my childhood to my little one

I wonder where we are going wrong, for we are the lights that light up the nation.

Big words are for big people. Confused between welfare of state and welfare of their vested interests, they are busy scoring points in the publicity match. Biting more than they can chew and then chewing their words hurriedly like a gum is their past time, which most commoners are too common to make sense of.

For We, The people, it is as simple about #BeingSensitive; The Big people towards us and us towards each other. We are shouting to making ourselves heard amidst noise of their #TugOfWar.

Still waiting to find your voice? Go, take a #SelfieWithTricolour and think about a genuine caption #Straightfromtheheart.

#HappyRepublicDay

Durga

The first time I looked at her, I just kept looking for few seconds with eyes wide open. There wasn’t anything extraordinary about her. Spotless white uniform, grey hair neatly tied into a bun, a simple look with not even a trace of makeup, yet she looked graceful and radiant in her own right.

She was the lady traffic controller at the traffic signal near my office.

We had recently relocated from Delhi to Mumbai. I was anyway dealing with a sea of cultural change; however, a lady traffic controller was a sight I don’t remember having witnessed in Delhi. The first day I saw her, I called up my husband after reaching office.“You know what, they have lady traffic controllers here!” I told him with enthusiasm and surprise. He seemed equally surprised. We briefly discussed how it would be if we started having the same in Delhi. Delhi is already known to be very unsafe for women and almost every rash driver has his HiFi links protecting him. Even if they have women traffic controllers in Delhi, I wonder if people would let them do their work in peace. Being born and brought up in Delhi, I knew that women traffic controllers would just become new eye candies and who knows the brats would break rules just to strike a conversation with a good looking lady traffic controller.

I thought of telling her this and asking about her opinion, perhaps know more about her and how she manages this predominantly men’s job. But, fearing that she might get offended, I decided to stay mum.

Few months passed like that. She became a part of my daily commute to work and often, when I crossed the signal on foot, I gave her a smile which she promptly reciprocated. My appreciation for her grew more on a particular morning when the signal lights stopped working due to some technical default. Her male colleague might have gone to check the matter as she was alone. There she was, managing a chaotic and busy traffic signal, sans traffic lights all by herself, that too during peak office hours! For a moment, I stood nearby, impressed by the discipline she maintained, for not even a single person dared disobey her orders.

I was in my 8^th month of pregnancy when I finally had a chance for a tete a tete with her. She used to notice me cross the signal with a huge baby bump every morning and often, ensured I crossed the road before she let the traffic open.

One afternoon as I was out for a stroll post lunch, luckily she was on a break while her male colleagues were managing the traffic. Not wasting a moment, I walked up to her and appreciated her for the good work. “Madam, main to bas meri duty karti hai” (Madam, I just do my duty) was all she said with a smile. I then told her I was from Delhi, the safety concerns of women there and what would happen if women started manning traffic signals there. She listened to me with a smile, and then told me that in her tenure of 11 years, not even once had she faced any trouble for being a woman – something that increased my respect and appreciation for the people of Mumbai.

A mother of 2, Durga (name changed) came from a humble background. The sole breadwinner of their family, her husband had succumbed to a road accident. Burdened by financial troubles, this mother of 2 decided to maintain her dignity and raise her children on her own sans any financial help from her parents. Choosing this profession was more of a personal choice, since Durga wanted to ensure no more lives are lost to violation of traffic rules.

But it wasn’t a cakewalk for her. Long hours of strenuous duty left her completely drained. By the time she reached home, there was a pile of housework waiting for her attention. Since those were crucial career years for her daughter, she didn’t want to burden her with house work and somehow managed everything by herself. However, her colleagues were more than happy to help. After all, God helps those who help themselves. The male colleagues deployed with her often swapped places when she appeared tired and let her take breaks. Also, the wife of a colleague staying nearby offered to help the kids with their studies by charging a nominal fee for tuition. For Durga, a headstrong woman with oodles of dignity, a complete waiver would have anyways been unacceptable.

Today, her daughter is studying in college and her son is preparing for IIT entrance exam, she tells me with a proud smile.

Not all people come triumphant from adversities of life. Women like Durga command even a higher respect. In a situation where an ordinary woman would have gone blank with shock, she thought of taking it on herself to erase the cause that not only took away her husband, but also poses a threat to other lives.

For me, she is no less than goddess Durga herself, with her many hands managing many responsibilities, and ensuring that the good wins over the evil.

On my maternity break now, I can’t wait to meet Durga again and tell her how she continues to inspire me everyday!

This contest is written for #SpreadTheVibe contest by @YouthKiAwaaz and @indiblogger

The Magic of Yoga

This morning, there was a strange air of enthusiasm at my place. Mr. Hubby & my MIL, who usually are glued to the newspaper and tea were up quite early and switched on the TV to witness International Yoga Day celebrations live from Rajpath. India has long been famous as the land of yoga. However, an initiative by our country being accepted worldwide has given us Indians another reason to feel proud. As Rajpath became Yogpath, the whole world witnessed the magical qualities Yoga has to offer.

My association with Yoga goes back to childhood. Fortunately, my father has been practising Yoga actively years before I was born. As a small kid, I remember waking up to witness Papa practising Yoga asanas in the garden. I would stand behind him, with eyes wide open as if witnessing a miracle and hoping if I too could join in. As I grew up, Papa would often make me do light Yoga during my holidays and weekends. More than a fitness regime, Yoga would be time for me to bond over with Papa and he would patiently explain me each asana, correct me whenever I went wrong and tell me stories of his experiences with Yoga to inspire me.

However, despite papa’s attempts, I was never able to be as active as him with my Yoga. Summer, winters or monsoons, Papa would never miss his 30 minutes of Yoga. Even if he had a morning train to catch, he would ensure to wake up early and finish his round of asanas, a habit he follows till date. I, on the other hand have always been ready with my excuses – early morning school, winters, summers, rains, exams, late night studies, I would always have an excuse. Papa always tells me once you become regular with Yoga, the body itself demands the daily dose just like food and water and one just gets addicted to it.

The one asana that always had me impressed was Sirsana. I used to see Papa stand on his head in the perfect Sirsana and wonder how he did it. Later I realised it wasn’t just me who was impressed. See this scene from the movie “Coolie” where Amitabh Bachchan tries his hand at Sirsana. My elder sister, a big fan of Mr. Bachchan was so inspired after seeing that movie that she challenged herself to do the perfect Sirsana and managed to perfect it within 3 days! I too managed to do it but only with the support of a wall. While I always saw it as a cool asana, later I learnt it is highly beneficial for increasing blood flow to brain, improving memory etc.

I became genuinely serious about Yoga after we moved to Mumbai. With our Sunday walks at Lodi Garden gone, we were looking forward to some healthy option. It was then that we discovered weekend Yoga classes near our place. I felt like the happy child in a playschool every time we went for these classes. We would look forward to learning new asanas in each class and then practise them at home. There were however, 2 things for which I loved my Yoga classes – the laughter sessions and the Yoga Nidra. Initially hesitant with the laughter sessions, I soon discovered their magical power of de stressing. Similarly, Yoga Nidra took us to levels of relaxation like nothing else. I soon saw myself practising Yoga Nidra whenever I had trouble sleeping or carried office stress home.

Recently I discovered another facet of Yoga. As an expecting mother, I joined a prenatal Yoga Camp and was pleasantly surprised how Pranayams and asanas can relax us during the later phase of pregnancy. Each time my mind gets into the worrying mode, I follow the Pranayam and breathing techniques I have learnt at the classes and am de stressed within minutes.

Yoga has become an inseparable part of my life now. Like every expecting mother, I too wonder how I will get back in shape post delivery. But, having read the success stories of many Bollywood stars who got back in shape post delivery purely basis yoga, I am inspired and confident I too shall be able to make it back in shape. I am looking forward to my Yoga classes with Mr. Hubby again and hope someday I am able to inculcate the habit of Yoga into my children the way my father has…

Wish you all a very happy Yoga Day!

#InternationalDayofYoga

Let’s save the one who nurtures…

Let us respect the one who cares

Who fulfils our needs

And happiness she shares

She has the supreme power to nurture

Lets thank the lovely mother nature…

A good person is one who stays connected to his roots; who remembers the bonds of love; and who values the relationships that helped him in the journey called life. One of the earliest bonds we have in life is with nature. For its nature that becomes our first school. As we grow up, we take the highway to success and often ignore the bond with nature. But nature takes it all with a smile, our love and even our mistakes, for nature is the mother, and a mother is always showering love and care on her children.

It was mom who strengthened my bond with nature. My earliest school was my garden, where I got my first lessons on colors and names. Nursery admission interviews were around the corner. Ma would take me to the garden, ask me to name the vegetables, fruits etc and tell the color. We would look at the lovely squirrels and sparrows on the guava tree and I would name every bird I saw. The leaves taught me green, the marigold-yellow, the tomatoes –red, the roses – pink. Although I cleared the admission process with flying colors, our morning rendezvous in the garden continued where ma and I sat every morning, listening to the chirping of birds and soaking in the beauty of nature.

Coping up with the fast lane life, we somehow drift apart from nature. It is only when we see someone caring for nature that we remember our own bond.

Recently, I was on a visit to Corbett with Mr. Hubby when I saw a WWF project signboard near the entrance. On asking the locals, I was told the local women partner with WWF for a project wherein they make natural manure from earthworms. We all had read in textbooks about compost and natural manures and conveniently forgotten it to the comfort of chemicals. But these villagers had kept their bond with nature intact. When I expressed my desire to see how the manure was made, the ladies were excited to see the madam from Delhi taking interest in their project. Like a chief guest, they welcomed me into their huts and showed me the pits covered with hay where natural manure was made from earthworms. “Memsaab, these earthworms are like our children, we care for them and Mother Nature cares for us…” their words inspired me so much that I pleaded to adopt some of the earthworms to take back home and bought their amazing natural manure. The earthworms are our family members in the garden where mummy feeds them vegetable waste and they give us natural manure.

When a child befriends the wrong person, the mother gets worried in concern. A big concern for nature today is mankind’s friendship with plastics. Plastics look presentable and convenient, but they pose threat to Mother Nature. Being non biodegradable, it is next to impossible to dispose them completely without harming the environment. While people in metropolitans still ask vegetable waallas to pack the veggies in polythene bags, the stand taken by people of Himachal Pradesh impressed me a lot. On a recent visit to Himachal, I found out that plastic bags are banned there and people use paper or cloth bags to carry their daily needs. “When they can, why cant we?” I wondered and once home, Mr. Hubby and I thought how we could get rid of the plastic in our daily lives.

We began by going for the good old jute bag to carry groceries. Might sound old fashioned to many, but we know we are saving our environment and the effort is worth it.

Instead of using plastic scrubbers, we have started using homemade scrubber made of coconut fibre (coir) to clean the dishes.

We all like to keep our houses clean and perfect and seldom bother about what happens outside, However, if we pause and think of our environment as our home, and take small steps to prevent the exploitation, nature too will appreciate and cooperate, for a mother showers her love and blessing for children who love and care.

This post is written for Nature's friend contest by Indiblogger and Kissan  Kissan is more than just its range of products. It's the trust of millions of Indian mothers when it comes to making their kids eat & grow up happily. Because all mothers know that Kissan products are filled with nothing but natural goodness as they are made from 100% real fruits and tomatoes. And to top it all, kids and adults equally swear by the taste of Kissan products

The guest who wasn’t spared

While the politicians were busy with the blame game for upcoming elections and the media in boosting their TRPs, 20 year old Nido Taniam fell prey to the insensitivity of the capital city.  Nido, the 20 year old student from North East who came to Delhi for a better life, was robbed of his life, thanks to discrimination in his own country. What and how is something we all know. Perhaps it’s time we wake up to the “why” and take charge.

Somewhere or the other, we all must have witnessed the increasing rash and rough side of Delhi, a side that was nowhere to be seen a few years ago. Since lawlessness prevails, anti social elements do not think twice before catering to their selfish interests.

The media is buzzing with several accounts of the incident after Nido is gone, and the officials have woken to come up with a justifiable answer. But the loss of a young life, its hopes and aspirations is irreparable.

In a state where people with political connections often get away with almost anything, it’s surprising that Nido was not spared, despite being from a political background. Sad, the city only understands the sound of the red beacon SUVs flaunted by self proclaimed powerful someone’s. Had Nido been the typical red beacon flaunting rash son of a politician, would the story still have such a tragic end?

 I sometimes wonder, what prompts the people of Delhi to become self declared law makers and not approach the official system? Is it the lack of trust in the law, the lack of fear of punishment, or both? In any case, such incidents show total disrespect towards the official machinery by the trouble makers. Coz in countries of the west, one would think twice before even hinting towards something racist.

During my trips to the North East, I have found the people to be warm and hospitable. By looks, we might look the odd ones out in their state, but seldom do they mock or comment about one’s ethnicity.

However, when it’s time for my city to reciprocate the hospitality, such incidents bring shame. No amount of money or progress makes sense unless the citizens here learn basic civic sense.  Until that happens, the city faces national ire for being a lawless place that can’t secure its guests. Its time, the law makers gear up and spruce up the system, and its time, we the common people, learn to welcome guests with open arms.

Nido, may your soul rest in peace

Musings of an old Dilliwalla

Delhi is a city that has welcomed friends and foes with open arms. A city where I have grown up witnessing the best culture, mannerisms and heritage. A city that boasts of its stories of brotherhood. Ask any second or third generation Dilliwalla about the Delhi they have seen, and pat comes the reply – the city that celebrated Id with as much fervour as Diwali, where adab was a piece of jewellery every Dilliwalla wore with pride. I remember as kids, we would walk down to India Gate late at night to savour an ice cream without any fear. Evening drives meant so much fun as the old Fiat sailed through the spacious roads of Lutyens Delhi.

Sadly, over the years, Delhi is losing its sheen that made it the jewel in the crown called India. While it has become the epicentre of forever happening political eruptions, the culture has also been cruelly eroded.

Flamboyant first generation billionaires with strong political connections, zooming SUVs with loud, thumping music, zero patience on roads, abusive language, intolerance at its best, licensed guns looking for petty excuses to prove their mantle, crowds outnumbering the capacity almost everywhere, women security at its worst…the list is endless and the hearts of Delhites like me bleed as we see our city succumbing to cultural pollution.

Who does it or who instigates doesn’t matter anymore. People who stay here are part of the family and as family members, we all ought to take onus. It hurts to see the bad impressions the city holds with people everywhere, of being polluted, rash and unsafe. Who makes it unsafe? It’s the people among us. Everyone is in a race to be ahead, and in that race, we often miss the basics – if we want peace, we gotta live in harmony, else the whole system goes crackling. For, when there is dispute amongst the family members, the neighbours enjoy the show!

Disappointed by the increasing cultural pollution in Delhi, I have often been tempted to move to greener pastures. However, to avoid is to be an escapist. I remember a scene from the movie Rang De Basanti, where a determined Madhavan tells his dejected friends that it is easy to criticise and abandon the house. But, it calls for courage and responsibility to clean up our house. Being citizens of Delhi, it is our responsibility to remove the tarnish and give it a cultural face lift.

When Delhites visiting elsewhere can follow the rules, why dirty our own house? Let the beasts be chained behind and let the responsible citizen in us take charge. Winning is not about outnumbering or outshining, it’s about bringing a smile on faces. Enough of litter in our culture, its time Dilliwallas do the cleanup act!

Drama is not uncommon to the common people of Delhi!

 “Get over Kingdom of dreams’ Nautanki Mahal”…for Nautanki is here!” I wondered as I walked down this chilly raining morning out of an overcrowded metro station. I thanked God, having survived a near stampede situation. But drama in Delhi is as common as the crowded metro that comes every now and then but leaves soon, before you can take some action.

Having spent three decades in Delhi, I understand the music Dilliwallas face every January. While the world enjoys the grandeur of Republic Day parade every year, for us, the tough preparations begin long before.

Any venture near Lutyens Delhi is a complete no no, for one may be welcomed by surprised route diversions, route closures and police barriers. Scanning the newspaper or internet for traffic advisory can make things better. However, if daily route asks you to commute via CP/India Gate, the week before and after republic day can end up being the most trying days of the year.

Unfortunately for me, school and college were located near Lutyens Delhi. So, come what may, it was an ordeal I had to go through every year. Then came metro, and my bad memories of traffic diversion were swept with a gush of wind!

However, my ugly memories paid an unfriendly visit this morning as I left home for work. We live in a country where common man has a say “only before the polling day”. The day poll results come, common man’s say becomes uncommon as the politicos smartly eclipse our concerns with a coat of their ambitions. We had a gentleman fighting this morning for welfare of the common man whereas hundreds of common men (and women) were helplessly harassed by the Delhi chill and disrupted metro services. And as if that wasn’t enough, the rain Gods decided to play their prank.

While some people feel these are teething troubles that come in the way of the big revolution, I decided to go back to the basics. The essence of any revolt is to safeguard the interests of the common people. But when the passion to execute a plan takes over, the basic essence is forgotten by many. Then the first thing butchered for the platter is the interest of the common man. This was evident by the live masala coverage today that got channels great food for TRPs!

I heard the revolution was partly to bring up the cause of women safety. Great gesture worthy of praise. But can a melodramatic revolt do something that Delhi hasn’t seen changed over many years – the male outlook towards women? As hundreds of men and women jostled (in a near stampede situation) at most metro stations this morning, many common men got great opportunity to come unwelcoming close to many common women. If a revolt has to happen, let there be something to change the way most men look at women here-as helpless objects of desire. Instead of disrupting the lives of normal people, let the revolt disrupt the lives of countless men who roam around unchained on streets of Delhi at night (when our revolutionaries are asleep!) looking for a female prey. Let there be something that make the bad elements think twice in fear before thinking of the word ‘rape’. An eye for an eye or some strict law, as they have in some countries in the middle east.

Unless that doesn’t happen, such TRP attracting revolts would just add up to glorify the career paths of some politicos and breaking news for the media.

And the common man, if asked would still want his common life, simple and peaceful, sans any disruptions or diversions.

 

Common man, searching the "uncommon" peace

The wave of change

This is the story of the youth, the power of We, the people, and the magic of staying connected!

Pallavpuram was just another sleepy town where corruption ruled. The local MLA Duryodhan Bhaiyya with his goon power, had a record of winning 4 consecutive polls from that constituency. Welfare was confined to a mere joke. The funds allocated by the centre were siphoned off midway by team Duryodhan before they reached its due recipients.

People suffered and hoped their plight would improve someday…

Perhaps this time, their wait was about to be over...

Shravan Kumar was the son of an honest police constable. Having grown up in Pallavpuram, he had been a witness to the atrocities of team Duryodhan and others. A Gandhian by thought, his only dream for his town was to get justice the non violence way.

He followed the election commission on twitter and facebook to know the various initiatives being taken for the upcoming general elections. Having completed his masters in IT, he volunteered to join the Ahimsa party as its technology head. It was not easy to expose team Duryodhan, for their connections ran up high till the centre. Shravan knew that the election commission was a neutral body. The right guidance to voters and fair elections would ensure a change of power in the general elections.

Duryodhan bhaiyya often lured the youngsters by free liquor and other freebies. They in turn, carried out booth capturing and fake voting for his party and also lured others.

Shravan knew if he was to awaken people, first the youth power had to be unleashed. For, the youth had the energy and guts to sweep away any tyrant from their town. He began connecting with the youngsters on facebook and twitter. Around the same time, WeChat a recently launched voice messaging service had become a rage with the youth of the town. They would spend hours sending each other voice messages and funny emoticons. Shravan and his party decided to make the best use of this opportunity.

They began sending voice messages to the youth about the state of things in their constituency and how they could exercise their right as voters to bring about change. The youth who had been till now, happy with Duryodhan Bhaiyya’s free liquor were beginning to realise they were losing much more in lieu of a cheap bottle of liquor.

Soon, the area heads of Shravan’s party formed online groups and communities on facebook and WeChat and shared the problems faced by the people. They shared articles on the rights and duties of voters; the various funds that the centre had allocated for the town. Every Friday, the area heads organised group chat sessions on WeChat where the youth discussed how they could exercise their rights and bring about a change. There were separate chat sessions for first time voters, and they were educated about their rights and duties.

The spark which Shravan lighted had by now transformed into the flame of justice.

Duryodhan bhaiyya and his goons were restless. Being used to their old violent ways, they never knew the power of social media. They hired a professional hacker to hack and disrupt the efforts of Shravan’s party, but failed.

A day before elections, the election commission also brought a secret gift for team Duryodhan. Every polling booth was fitted with surveillance cameras.

However, on the polling day, Duryodhan Bhaiyya’s goons tried booth capturing on few polling stations. While the surveillance cameras caught their act, few youngsters standing nearby caught their act on their mobiles. Within seconds the videos of Duryodhan’s goons went viral on Facebook, Twitter and WeChat.

This further awakened the people who had decided to sit at home for the fear of booth capturing. Knowing they were safe now, they happily came and exercised their vote. The old Mausi who could barely walk to the polling booth, gave a toothy smile to the media persons who had rushed after seeing the booth capturing video. “This is a day of change for Pallavpuram”, she said.

By evening, the booth capturing videos had crossed 1 million hits on Youtube. Duryodhan bhaiyya and his goons were nowhere to be seen. Finger print scan of every voter ensured there were no fake votes.

A day before the results, an online and sms poll signaled that the state of affairs seemed to change for good.

The poll results day was celebrated like a festival in Pallavpuram. Shravan’s party had won by a clear majority, breaking team Duryodhan’s winning spree. Within hours of the results being declared, Shravan crossed 100000 followers on twitter!

As the media persons rushed to interview the new youth icon of the country, Shravan thanked the voters in his online address and said, “Even the non violent have the courage to win. This is the victory of We the people and technology! Justice, Liberty, Equality and Fraternity are our rights and I am glad the youth have helped us bring about this revolution”

This post is written for Indian General Elections 2014 with Social Mobile Appscontest by WeChat and Indiblogger. #VoteForIndia