Today I am going to advocate for a section of society who has been “the oppressed” for centuries unknown and yet this oppression goes unnoticed by everyone.
I can probably understand and empathize with them more than anyone else because, even I once belonged to the same society.
No! I am not going to talk about any caste, sex or region here. On the contrary I am referring to another weaker section of the society- the society of lean people.
To elucidate further, here it goes…
I still remember very vividly the good old days in school, when school started after prolonged summer vacation. All of us returned to school with new school dresses, new bags, water bottles etc. The first day of the class was usually, a standard exercise followed by the class teachers of almost all the classes. It was the seating arrangement exercise where all of us were made to sit in the benches according to our heights - three per bench. My entire problem started only when my turn came. Only in the bench in which I sat, teachers used to push another extra candidate. Year after year, teachers changed, but this exception in my case continued. Not a single year passed, where I sat on my bench comfortably like everyone else.
My troubles were not restricted to school. Back home, whenever it was a travel time, like all other kids, I used to look forward to traveling. But, never I had a full seat during a bus journey. I’m not sure if it was special love or a reason to save ticket (though my instincts support the second reason) I was put on someone’s lap or was forced to sit between any two elders who traveled with me.
I was always hopeful that one day, I would have a seat in a classroom or in a bus.
But the saga of sharing space continued even in my graduation days. We belong to the older generation of graduation kids, who never had separate bikes or cars. So, whenever it was a movie time, we had to take autos and travel. We were a group of 5 girls – a number that was more for one auto and less for 2 autos. Since we always fell in short of funds, we would choose one auto over two and again, it was me who sat in the lap. I had a company this time though. Sometimes, I was lucky enough and got a relatively spacious place to sit – the side of the auto. I know! A weird place to sit, but only a person like me understands the comfort in such a place when compared to sitting on someone’s lap.
Well, one might call all the above incidents as cases of adjustment, then why am I referring people like me as the oppressed?
You have read through to know it…
After my graduation, I joined an IT firm in Mumbai and used to travel often to Hyderabad. On one such occasion, I got into the train at the Chatrapathi Sivaji Terminus (CST). My seat number was 62. The train started and all the seats in our coupe except one seat number 60 were full. I was surprised that for once in my life, I got lucky and would be able to sit comfortably. I settled down quickly and started reading the novel. The train slowly reached Pune and then I realized that there was a huge, gigantic figure standing in front of me. Oh, the person was so weirdly huge that he could have been easily mistaken for an alien. And then it was a joke that destiny played on me. The person’s seat number was 60.
How naïve I was for having trusted my luck with respect to sharing space. The person sat down in the allocated seat .The other person who was already sitting in seat number 61 was of considerable size too. So, they both together took advantage of my size and slowly pushed me. After a little unnoticed wrestling war, they were both successful in pushing me and squeezing me to the corner.
Isn’t it a clear case of exploitation of my lean structure?
The other case that made me realize my vulnerability is the share auto scene.
Hyderabad is quite famous for share autos. These autos though designed for a seating capacity of 3, the drivers here got innovative and remodeled these autos such that they carry 7 or at times even 8. One must be wondering how can a three-seater auto suffice seven or eight people. Well, that’s where people like me come into picture. The auto drivers count on the fact that the world is full of oppressed people like me.
Once I got into one such share auto and as luck would have it, as soon as I got into the auto another fatso huge aunty got into it. Her size intimidated me, so naturally I moved and adjusted so that she had adequate place to sit. The auto started and so did my troubles. As auto moved, the fat aunty started pushing me hard with her huge b**s. I was passive till a point when I realized that if I did not react, I would fall out of the auto. Out of the fear and anger that I would fall from the auto, I raised my voice and asked her to move a little. The response that I received from her not only hurt my ego forever but also forced me to take a resolution. When I asked her to move, she responded back in the most sarcastic voice,“ intha bakka ga unnavu, neeku kuda place kavalamma. Em padipovule, kurcho.” It means, “you are so lean, do you also need more place. It’s ok! Sit. You wont fall outside.”
I am not sure if it was the tone or the truth, but her dialogues made me realize how vulnerable I was. Be it a school bench or a bus or a train or a share auto, lean people were oppressed and were susceptible to such unscrupulous acts everywhere. So, I decided that day, that I will not allow this to continue with me forever. And so, I did something, which I feel every lean person should do.
I……….
I……….
I………..
I PUT ON WEIGHT. ☺))
Monday, April 19, 2010
Saturday, April 17, 2010
The Haunting
It’s 6.30 p.m. I decide to call it a day and start from office. I get into my brand new Hyundai i10 Sportz, turn on the integrated music system, tune into 98.3 F.M, switch on the A.C and start driving. I reach J.N.T.U and as luck would have it, the signal turns red just when my turn comes. I press the breaks and my car comes to a halt. At the signals, I see the regular scenes of chaotic traffic jams, tired employees crossing roads everywhere, street hawkers trying to sell all they could as it is the close of business hour.
And then, amidst this busy environment, I see a small cute little girl running. Pre-occupied in her own world, she appeared jubilant, excited yet serene. She was running around with bare feet, to catch up with her friends. There was something about her, which caught my attention. As I watch her, the cacophony of honking distracts me and then, I realize that the signal turned green. I change the gear, press the accelerator and cross the road.
Finally, after one and a half hours of strenuous journey, I reach home. I decide to take the staircase and slowly reach 2nd floor where my deluxe flat is. I walk in the corridor and once I reach my flat, I grope inside my big Baggot leather handbag and successfully pull out my keys bunch. As I try unlocking the door, I hear a huge laughter. I turn around to see who it is and it’s again her. I see her sitting on the floor and playing with her friends while an old woman who appears to be her grand mother struggles to feed her the banana. Perplexed to find her in my apartments, I step inside my flat. I turn the light on and the sounds of calmness in my house win over the small girl’s laughter. It’s two weeks that my Husband left to U.S and I already feel the boredom. I switch the T.V on and aimlessly browse through all the channels, watch the news for some time and then decide its time to prepare dinner. I do not fall in the category of people who love eating; I eat for mere survival whereas my Husband is a great lover of food. So after he left, I do not have any interest or motivation to cook variety. I head towards the big double door refrigerator and open the door. As I look for vegetables, I notice something. Oh my God! It’s the Sundae Family pack ice cream which we had bought 2 weeks ago, I got just too busy and forgot eating it. Looks like there was a power failure for a long time, the ice cream not only melted but also leaked down the chill tray. Having no choice left, I go into the kitchen to get the wiping cloth.
Unbelievable, but I see her yet again. The little girl is standing in the corner of my kitchen, licking the cover of a small vanilla ice cream cup. Cute she was with ice cream all over her face. Before I ask her who she is and what is she doing in my kitchen, she vanishes. Strange hallunications… I think I should owe it all to my project stress…
I pick up the wiping cloth and clean up the mess. I am so tired that I decide not to cook anything but drink a glass of milk and sleep. I boil the milk, drink it and decide to go to bed early, as I have to start my day early tomorrow.
I make my bed, switch off the lights and stretch myself. It’s early March, but summer started showing its power already. Unable to bear the heat, I decide to turn the A.C on. I search for the a/c remote, but unable to locate it in the darkness, I switch on the lights and try looking for it through those unfolded comforters on my bed. My search operation goes in vain, so I decide to sleep in the next bedroom. All our bedrooms are air-conditioned. In fact our deluxe flat has all facilities (except for the fact that there are no people nor there is time to relish these luxuries).
I step into the other bedroom and this time I first ensure that the remote of this a/c is there and the a/c is operational. I go to bring my comforter and when I re-enter the bedroom, I notice that the room is full with 5 people sleeping down on the floor. People whose faces I am unable to recognize, but yes, one face does appear familiar. This is impossible! It’s the little girl again. I see her sleeping next to another boy who should be around 4 years elder to her. They are both pushing each other so that the stronger one gets to sleep in front of the small air cooler. The girl finally wins over him, not with muscles but with her mouth. Suddenly, I realize that all these unknown people are sleeping in MY bedroom. I get pissed off by these continuous, strange encounters and decide to shout at them. I enter the room but yet again, I see no one in the room and its absolutely silent. I get irritated but feel helpless, so get onto the bed and quietly go to sleep.
Entire night, the little girl with her bright eyes, lively face, and broad smile continues to haunt me in my dreams. Is it a ghost? Or some kind of black magic someone is trying to play? Can’t be! I am not a person who believes in all these, but now I start getting anxious. I try diverting my thoughts and finally fall asleep around 2.00 in the midnight.
Next morning, after snoozing the alarm six times, I finally manage to wake up at 6.45 a.m. I go straight to the washroom to wash my face and when I look into the mirror, instead of my image, I find hers.
It is only then, that I realize. I recognize that smile, I recognize those naughty looks and I have known this face for years. Because, that face is my own face when I was 8 years old. The 8-year-old face never traveled in car, never had a family pack ice cream, never slept in an air-conditioned room, but always had a bright face and an untiring smile. Over the years, as I grew, I probably got busy in my daily chores, so left that face behind. My soul misses that face so started haunting me.
And then, amidst this busy environment, I see a small cute little girl running. Pre-occupied in her own world, she appeared jubilant, excited yet serene. She was running around with bare feet, to catch up with her friends. There was something about her, which caught my attention. As I watch her, the cacophony of honking distracts me and then, I realize that the signal turned green. I change the gear, press the accelerator and cross the road.
Finally, after one and a half hours of strenuous journey, I reach home. I decide to take the staircase and slowly reach 2nd floor where my deluxe flat is. I walk in the corridor and once I reach my flat, I grope inside my big Baggot leather handbag and successfully pull out my keys bunch. As I try unlocking the door, I hear a huge laughter. I turn around to see who it is and it’s again her. I see her sitting on the floor and playing with her friends while an old woman who appears to be her grand mother struggles to feed her the banana. Perplexed to find her in my apartments, I step inside my flat. I turn the light on and the sounds of calmness in my house win over the small girl’s laughter. It’s two weeks that my Husband left to U.S and I already feel the boredom. I switch the T.V on and aimlessly browse through all the channels, watch the news for some time and then decide its time to prepare dinner. I do not fall in the category of people who love eating; I eat for mere survival whereas my Husband is a great lover of food. So after he left, I do not have any interest or motivation to cook variety. I head towards the big double door refrigerator and open the door. As I look for vegetables, I notice something. Oh my God! It’s the Sundae Family pack ice cream which we had bought 2 weeks ago, I got just too busy and forgot eating it. Looks like there was a power failure for a long time, the ice cream not only melted but also leaked down the chill tray. Having no choice left, I go into the kitchen to get the wiping cloth.
Unbelievable, but I see her yet again. The little girl is standing in the corner of my kitchen, licking the cover of a small vanilla ice cream cup. Cute she was with ice cream all over her face. Before I ask her who she is and what is she doing in my kitchen, she vanishes. Strange hallunications… I think I should owe it all to my project stress…
I pick up the wiping cloth and clean up the mess. I am so tired that I decide not to cook anything but drink a glass of milk and sleep. I boil the milk, drink it and decide to go to bed early, as I have to start my day early tomorrow.
I make my bed, switch off the lights and stretch myself. It’s early March, but summer started showing its power already. Unable to bear the heat, I decide to turn the A.C on. I search for the a/c remote, but unable to locate it in the darkness, I switch on the lights and try looking for it through those unfolded comforters on my bed. My search operation goes in vain, so I decide to sleep in the next bedroom. All our bedrooms are air-conditioned. In fact our deluxe flat has all facilities (except for the fact that there are no people nor there is time to relish these luxuries).
I step into the other bedroom and this time I first ensure that the remote of this a/c is there and the a/c is operational. I go to bring my comforter and when I re-enter the bedroom, I notice that the room is full with 5 people sleeping down on the floor. People whose faces I am unable to recognize, but yes, one face does appear familiar. This is impossible! It’s the little girl again. I see her sleeping next to another boy who should be around 4 years elder to her. They are both pushing each other so that the stronger one gets to sleep in front of the small air cooler. The girl finally wins over him, not with muscles but with her mouth. Suddenly, I realize that all these unknown people are sleeping in MY bedroom. I get pissed off by these continuous, strange encounters and decide to shout at them. I enter the room but yet again, I see no one in the room and its absolutely silent. I get irritated but feel helpless, so get onto the bed and quietly go to sleep.
Entire night, the little girl with her bright eyes, lively face, and broad smile continues to haunt me in my dreams. Is it a ghost? Or some kind of black magic someone is trying to play? Can’t be! I am not a person who believes in all these, but now I start getting anxious. I try diverting my thoughts and finally fall asleep around 2.00 in the midnight.
Next morning, after snoozing the alarm six times, I finally manage to wake up at 6.45 a.m. I go straight to the washroom to wash my face and when I look into the mirror, instead of my image, I find hers.
It is only then, that I realize. I recognize that smile, I recognize those naughty looks and I have known this face for years. Because, that face is my own face when I was 8 years old. The 8-year-old face never traveled in car, never had a family pack ice cream, never slept in an air-conditioned room, but always had a bright face and an untiring smile. Over the years, as I grew, I probably got busy in my daily chores, so left that face behind. My soul misses that face so started haunting me.
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Monday, August 24, 2009
What have I given to the dance?
I am a Kuchipudi dancer and have been learning dance for the past 10 years. I hail from a family of technocrats with no background of traditional art forms. However, in my journey in this art form for a decade, I came to a self-realization and hence, a confession to make.
As a child, I was very naughty and hyperactive. Since dance involved lot of physical movements and classical dance in particular had an attractive costume and make-up, I started liking it like any other child. On one night, when we returned home after watching the movie ‘Srutilayalu,’ I tried dancing on toe (like the boy in the film) and broke my arm. Though everyone else considered this as “just another naughty act” of mine, my dad could sense the interest I was developing in dance. He noticed that, though in nature, I was mischievous, when it came to dance, for example watching a classical dance related movie or a show, I was very well behaved and disciplined. Thus, at the age of 7, I was first exposed to Kuchipudi but I learnt it for a very short span of 6 months. Since our family was full of doctors and engineers, my attention was naturally drawn towards academics.
In 2000, after my 12th class, when I joined my Engineering, I again wanted to learn dance, but this time it was for a hobby. I met my Guru Maddali Usha Gayatri and then my life changed for better. It was she who guided me in realizing where my true happiness lies.
I started learning and performing and like any other dance student, gave my Rangapravesam (Arangetram) in 2003.
As time passed, I gradually started realizing that dance was acting like a "Sanjeevani" to me. Whenever I was feeling depressed or sad, it was dance that brought composure in my behavior. All my mood-swings vanished and my mood brightened the very next moment I entered my dance class. On one such occasion, I was extremely depressed over a personal issue and was unable to get over it for many days. At the same time, we had an important dance program and I had to perform. I concentrated on the performance, and it was after that night’s performance, for the first time after several days, I felt relieved from the mental agony I was undergoing. Dance was indeed a panacea to me. At that moment, I decided never to quit dancing.
I completed my engineering, joined an IT firm in India, met my life partner there and got married to him in 2006. I am lucky to have lovely in-laws who are very supportive. With their encouragement, I continued learning and performing. In 2007, I left for the US for a year on a work assignment. It was the first time after learning dance that I left my Guru, my dance and that environment. I felt extremely handicapped and the only access I had were to the videos on 'you tube,' where I watched other dancers performing. It hit me hard and I was extremely unhappy. Yes, I started earning in dollars, but then there was no increment in the happiness of my soul. Again it was a realization for me and it was dance that aided me in realizing where my real happiness lies.
When I returned from US, I started going back to my classes and started performing again, this time with more dedication and commitment, but still expecting something from it.
In the past few months, on various occasions, I interacted with renowned gurus of previous generations and it changed my horizon towards dance. I slowly realized that all the time I learnt art only in terms of expecting something from it. If sometimes, it was to see my dad happy, some other time it was to pursue it as a hobby, and worst of all sometimes even because it gave me an identity in my social circles. It was always me first and then dance. It was a terrible realization that I was in fact exploiting the art form, thereby polluting it. A sense of guilt engulfed me and then I felt sorry for the art form because, day in and day out, thousands and thousands of us are exploiting it. No artiste can ever grow bigger than the art itself.
Today, after a decade long journey, after self-introspection, I am affirmative in my thinking and I do not look for "What is dance giving me," rather try to find "What am I giving to dance?"
As a child, I was very naughty and hyperactive. Since dance involved lot of physical movements and classical dance in particular had an attractive costume and make-up, I started liking it like any other child. On one night, when we returned home after watching the movie ‘Srutilayalu,’ I tried dancing on toe (like the boy in the film) and broke my arm. Though everyone else considered this as “just another naughty act” of mine, my dad could sense the interest I was developing in dance. He noticed that, though in nature, I was mischievous, when it came to dance, for example watching a classical dance related movie or a show, I was very well behaved and disciplined. Thus, at the age of 7, I was first exposed to Kuchipudi but I learnt it for a very short span of 6 months. Since our family was full of doctors and engineers, my attention was naturally drawn towards academics.
In 2000, after my 12th class, when I joined my Engineering, I again wanted to learn dance, but this time it was for a hobby. I met my Guru Maddali Usha Gayatri and then my life changed for better. It was she who guided me in realizing where my true happiness lies.
I started learning and performing and like any other dance student, gave my Rangapravesam (Arangetram) in 2003.
As time passed, I gradually started realizing that dance was acting like a "Sanjeevani" to me. Whenever I was feeling depressed or sad, it was dance that brought composure in my behavior. All my mood-swings vanished and my mood brightened the very next moment I entered my dance class. On one such occasion, I was extremely depressed over a personal issue and was unable to get over it for many days. At the same time, we had an important dance program and I had to perform. I concentrated on the performance, and it was after that night’s performance, for the first time after several days, I felt relieved from the mental agony I was undergoing. Dance was indeed a panacea to me. At that moment, I decided never to quit dancing.
I completed my engineering, joined an IT firm in India, met my life partner there and got married to him in 2006. I am lucky to have lovely in-laws who are very supportive. With their encouragement, I continued learning and performing. In 2007, I left for the US for a year on a work assignment. It was the first time after learning dance that I left my Guru, my dance and that environment. I felt extremely handicapped and the only access I had were to the videos on 'you tube,' where I watched other dancers performing. It hit me hard and I was extremely unhappy. Yes, I started earning in dollars, but then there was no increment in the happiness of my soul. Again it was a realization for me and it was dance that aided me in realizing where my real happiness lies.
When I returned from US, I started going back to my classes and started performing again, this time with more dedication and commitment, but still expecting something from it.
In the past few months, on various occasions, I interacted with renowned gurus of previous generations and it changed my horizon towards dance. I slowly realized that all the time I learnt art only in terms of expecting something from it. If sometimes, it was to see my dad happy, some other time it was to pursue it as a hobby, and worst of all sometimes even because it gave me an identity in my social circles. It was always me first and then dance. It was a terrible realization that I was in fact exploiting the art form, thereby polluting it. A sense of guilt engulfed me and then I felt sorry for the art form because, day in and day out, thousands and thousands of us are exploiting it. No artiste can ever grow bigger than the art itself.
Today, after a decade long journey, after self-introspection, I am affirmative in my thinking and I do not look for "What is dance giving me," rather try to find "What am I giving to dance?"
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
Are we living?
Today its 2 days after our second wedding anniversary and i started rethinking about the series of happenings in our life, in general about lives of any two techies
I started wondering ,if in the process of running for future we have forgotten living in present.
Work was earlier a part of our daily chore but now work and life have become two disjoint sets. Most of us are ending up in the mire of working-earning-working
but are we living?
We are all building big houses but we do not have a home to live in.
A house becomes a home only when people reside in it.
Are we just co-existing? Most of us come onsite or work more hours to earn, to save for our future or to have better career prospects.But is this all life?
Why do we miss our childhood or college days? Why do we wait for a weekend? Why do we have monday blues?
Few questions like:
1. How many times we had spent a peaceful evening with our dear ones just for the sake of spending time. (Mind you,without discussing about project/office/housing loans etc. )?
2. Last time we spent eating/drinking a cup of tea together with our dear ones?
3. How many times have we taken our children to a normal park ( not the shopping malls etc) just for a walk?
4. How many of us have visited a normal industrial exhibition?
5. How many times, have we actually taken our parents to a hospital when they have fallen sick? ( not visiting them, staying aside and taking an appointment and taking them)
As a child , i clearly remember the following:
1. My Dad taking me to a public library
2. My mom buying summer games, sitting along with us and playing during the summer holidays
3. Visiting grand parents and relatives' homes during festivals/holidays.
4.Playing holi, flying kits, helping mom prepare home made sweets during festivals
Today they are all replaced by :
1.Enjoying weekend parties in office.
2.Sending E-greetings and splash colors & fly kites in emails.
3.Buying ready made sweets or take home a company gifted "Glittery diwali gift".
4.Buying a calling card to India to talk oversees.
The most frequent words which actually are dictating our
lives today are "Career prospects" , " EMIs", "Onsite opportunities", " increments".
Its become such a vicious circle that almost everyone is in it and the ones who are not are actually looked upon as exceptions. And since exceptions are a minority, they tend to incline with the rule and enter the same vicious circle.
I am not an anti - IT person , nor am I a critic. In fact I love my job and I'm happy with the amount of opportunities IT has created and the economic changes IT has brought into the society but at the same time I wanted to remind each of us that tomorrow, when we are 40 or 60 years in age and we want to pen down sweet memories in our lives, the dairy would stop at the point when our jobs have started and the actual life has stopped.
I started wondering ,if in the process of running for future we have forgotten living in present.
Work was earlier a part of our daily chore but now work and life have become two disjoint sets. Most of us are ending up in the mire of working-earning-working
but are we living?
We are all building big houses but we do not have a home to live in.
A house becomes a home only when people reside in it.
Are we just co-existing? Most of us come onsite or work more hours to earn, to save for our future or to have better career prospects.But is this all life?
Why do we miss our childhood or college days? Why do we wait for a weekend? Why do we have monday blues?
Few questions like:
1. How many times we had spent a peaceful evening with our dear ones just for the sake of spending time. (Mind you,without discussing about project/office/housing loans etc. )?
2. Last time we spent eating/drinking a cup of tea together with our dear ones?
3. How many times have we taken our children to a normal park ( not the shopping malls etc) just for a walk?
4. How many of us have visited a normal industrial exhibition?
5. How many times, have we actually taken our parents to a hospital when they have fallen sick? ( not visiting them, staying aside and taking an appointment and taking them)
As a child , i clearly remember the following:
1. My Dad taking me to a public library
2. My mom buying summer games, sitting along with us and playing during the summer holidays
3. Visiting grand parents and relatives' homes during festivals/holidays.
4.Playing holi, flying kits, helping mom prepare home made sweets during festivals
Today they are all replaced by :
1.Enjoying weekend parties in office.
2.Sending E-greetings and splash colors & fly kites in emails.
3.Buying ready made sweets or take home a company gifted "Glittery diwali gift".
4.Buying a calling card to India to talk oversees.
The most frequent words which actually are dictating our
lives today are "Career prospects" , " EMIs", "Onsite opportunities", " increments".
Its become such a vicious circle that almost everyone is in it and the ones who are not are actually looked upon as exceptions. And since exceptions are a minority, they tend to incline with the rule and enter the same vicious circle.
I am not an anti - IT person , nor am I a critic. In fact I love my job and I'm happy with the amount of opportunities IT has created and the economic changes IT has brought into the society but at the same time I wanted to remind each of us that tomorrow, when we are 40 or 60 years in age and we want to pen down sweet memories in our lives, the dairy would stop at the point when our jobs have started and the actual life has stopped.
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