23rd Birthday Musings

What is it with new years, sunsets and birthdays that make you so reflective…

Well, I’m officially 23. And as anti-climactic as that statement is (can you have a climax if there’s no build-up?), I can’t keep the smile off my face, which makes me wonder: am I deranged?

Isn’t it supposed to be scary moving up the twenties decade? Aren’t there so many big life-changing decisions that need to be made? Isn’t there a big possibility of messing everything up, for myself, my kids, my family? Shouldn’t I be fast asleep at 1:30am considering I have to wake up in four hours and go to work?

The simple answer is: yes.

Then again, I suppose that’s also going to be true for every coming year of my life. So I figured I might as well focus on the good stuff.

I learnt recently that one of the simplest ways to be happy is to show gratitude: for the big stuff and the small things. So that’s exactly what I’m going to do (in order of how they come across my head).

I’m thankful:

• For getting a chance to re-connect with family and friends who had faded away in the last few years of my life
• For being part of a mission that I genuinely believe in
• For being surrounded by a group of talented individuals who have that same passion
• For having the chance to make a difference in the lives of so many kids
• For living in India, the only place that really feels like home
• For learning how to cross roads in Mumbai, and appreciating the importance of hands in this process
• For being able to wander the roads of Mumbai on my own
• For partly overcoming my fear of Dadar station
• For having survived one year on my own in India – a feat I was told several times I would not be able to do
• For being fine health-wise. I no longer have to think before sitting
• For getting the green signal from my parents to visit Pakistan
• For bhai getting engaged to the most awesome person ever
• For visiting New Zealand – one of the genuinely most peaceful places I’ve seen
• For getting to meet my parents so often
• For getting to meet the entire khandaan at Gaurav bhaiya’s wedding
• For spending the first ever mommy-daughter alone time in Bombay, and having a ball throughout
• For Marine Drive and Worli Sea-face
• For the wind
• For feeling close to my Toronto friends despite speaking sparingly
• For the Long Island Iced Teas
• For meeting the mind-blowing team of 3.2.1
• For starting to understand the essence of education
• For my fellow Harry Potter geeks (Heeks)
• For my umbrella
• For Bahadur – the guy who cleans up our house
• For having low tolerance of alcohol – keeps the pockets a little fuller
• For the hugs
• For my currently lice-free hair
• For the Nescafe 3in1 coffee
• For Maggie
• For my friend’s baking skills
• For my co-teacher’s ability to draw straight lines
• For the look of recognition I get every time I see my grocery guy, ironing guy and the Xerox guys
• For seeing the flags of Kuwait, Canada and India at TFI’s presentation today
• For the feeling of belongingness I surprisingly felt for all three flags
• For my nickname, Toronto
• For the (rarely) empty train rides
• For having my blog tweeted around by strangers
• For my cousin’s blog having the ability to instantly cheer-me-up
• For having friends with cars
• For the awesome cabbies in Mumbai
• For the sporadic star sighting (the Bollywood ones)
• For the once-in-my-life star gazing (the sky ones)
• For the trip to Panchgani with an entirely different set of friends
• For all the possibilities awaiting me this year
• For spending midnight at home with a cake, close friend and roomies
• For all the wishes and hugs I’m going to get today

Don’t be a Man: Do the right thing

I was teaching opposites in class today, and one student gave an example of table and chair. I explained to her that they were not opposites, but rather, different types of the same category. A few minutes later, I showed them a flashcard: boy x girl, ‘Boy’ being the opposite of ‘girl’. There was something misleading about that card, but not wanting to digress back then, I went on with the lesson.

I’m going to digress now.

Is boy really the opposite of girl, or like a table and chair, are they just two types within the broader category called humans? They are different, yes, but does that make them opposites?

Logically, I can’t be both a boy and a girl at the same time. But what does it really mean to be a boy or a girl? If we’re talking in terms of sex organs, then yes (exceptions are there). But we’re also talking about living beings, displaying characteristics and personalities. Are these also opposite?

Society seems to be arguing yes.

Tony Porter in his TED Talk brought out this point really well.

“I asked a boy, how would you feel if in front of all the players, your coach told you that you play like a girl.

I expected him to say something like I’ll be sad I’ll be mad I’ll be angry or something. No. The boy said to me: it would destroy me.

And I said to myself – if it would destroy him to be called a girl, what are we then teaching him about girls?”

Seriously.

What are we teaching boys? What are we teaching men?

That to be a real man, you have to be the opposite of a girl?

That you have to choose cars and G.I. Joes over dolls?

That as a man, you have to keep your emotions in check?

That tears are for girls, not humans?

That being a girl is beneath our dignity?

How have we managed to convince an entire half of our population that their ability to ‘be a man’ depends on their ability to ‘not be a girl’?

Watch this video. The ending in particular rings a bell, because it reminds me of a stand-up comedy show that I’ve laughed at numerous times. Russell Peters made several phrases infamous, and one of them is “Be a man. Do the right thing.”

Unfortunately, Porter shows that these two don’t often work synonymously. It often becomes a choice:

Be a man. OR. Do the right thing.

Good luck with that.

Patriarchy: more than just a word

"The opposite of patriarchy is not matriarchy, because they’re both wrong."

Patriarchy is when

   -          A girl is asked numerous times while growing up: have you learnt to cook yet? (Not yet?! What will you do when you get married?!)

-          A boy is told repeatedly while growing up: real men don’t cry. (That’s a women-only club)

-          The sewing class at my school is reserved for girls (delicate work = femininity)

-          The carpentry class at my school is reserved for boys (brute strength = manliness)

-          A lone woman sits in a physics class. (It requires brains)

-          A lone man sits in a design class. (It’s a soft subject)

-          ‘Real women’ are taught to be dependent to the extent that it is beneath them to exert their strength (how dare you look straight in the eyes of a man?)

-          ‘Real men’ are taught to be independent to the extent that is beneath them to show weakness (haathon mein chudiyaan peheni hai kya?)

-          Boys are encouraged to fight back (Maa ka doodh piya hai toh saamne aa)

-          A family refuses to allow the daughter to have a live-in relationship (We don’t want the society gossiping about our daughter’s morals…)

-          A family accepts their son’s live-in relationship, but looks down at his partner (because clearly, she’s the one with the loose morals)

-          A promiscuous man is called a Casanova (ooooh!!!)

-          A promiscuous woman is called a slut (ouch)

-          The princess is always rescued by the prince (kiss me and save me)

-          The heroine is always rescued by the hero (bachaao!)

-          A son is seen as a true heir, and a daughter a burden (beta hua toh laddoo batenge)

-          Marriage is seen as the end goal for women (It's the sole purpose of our lives)

-          Marriage is seen as a nuisance for men (It’s something I have to put up with)

-          A family spends more time ensuring the prospective bride’s ‘purity’ than compatibility (can they really check beforehand???)

-          The parents are eager to get the daughter married off (syaapa mukaao)

-          Women have to physically disclaim that they are married through a mangal sutra and whatnot (Why don’t men get something in return?)

-          A woman touches the feet of her husband. (I thought blessings were supposed to be the work of Gods and elders)

-          Women continue to fast for ‘the long life’ of their husbands every year under the ruse of tradition. (If it’s superstition, then let it go. Or if you genuinely believe in the power of a fast, then why don’t men fast for their wives too?)

-          A woman has to leave her house after marriage to go to the man’s (Yehi riwaaz hai; sadiyon se chala aa raha hai. Hum kaun hotein hain parampara ko todne wale?)

-          A man who lives with his in-laws (aka the ‘ghar jamai’) is no longer considered a ‘real man’ (Uski khuddari kahan hai?)

-          A man gives up his passion for writing to get a ‘real job’ because he is expected to be the ‘bread-earner’ of the family (If you were a woman then it would be okay, but…)

-          A family is considered dysfunctional is the man takes care of the home and kids while the woman earns the income (It’s clear who wears the balls in this family)

-          The family name is automatically assumed to be the husband’s surname (Mr. and Mrs….?)

-          Women cease to exist on family trees (because the children just popped out of the men)

-          A woman ensures that every part of her body is ‘appropriately’ covered before stepping outdoors. (Otherwise, she’s clearly asking for it)

-          Sexual harassment is called ‘eve-teasing’ (apparently making fun of someone and groping their ass in a crowded bus are the same thing)

-          The choiciest gaali is always based off your mother or sister (you’re already thinking of them)

-          Horny-ness becomes an excuse for rape (so much for the theory of evolution…)

-          Women are afraid to report rape because of the shame it might bring to the family (samaaj kya kahega)

-          A man hits his wife, because, well, she’s his wife now (It’s his birthright as a male)

-          Men are told it’s okay to hit other men, but to never raise their hand on women (because they are the weaker sex, not because it’s wrong to hit)

-          Men are asked to respect women (Why not respect men too?)

-          Women are asked to submit to men (Oh, that’s why…)

It’s clearly a sucky world, for both men and women (I’m making a big assumption here, so guys, feel free to disagree).

In closing, I’m going to paraphrase a line from the show Satyamev Jayate: “The opposite of patriarchy is not matriarchy, because they’re both wrong. The opposite is equality – a balance.”

Here Comes the Rain

I can hear it: the soft (soon to be loud) pitter-patter that sounds strangely familiar yet foreign. I can smell it: that distinct scent of dust being washed away as the parched ground finally finds solace. I can see it, the haze of short, vertical lines that manage to block the background despite their own transparency. In a few moments, I know I’ll be able to feel it too, the dampness spreading quickly through my clothes. And I’m sure I could even taste it, if it weren’t for my fear of accidentally taking in the droppings of unmentionable creatures.

Just last year, around this time, I was doing a rain dance with friends: jumping around in excitement and frenzy at the arrival of our savior who would relieve us of the heat. Whenever people ask me how I found the infamous Bombay monsoons, I just shrugged and waved my hand as though it was no big deal. And maybe then it wasn’t: I had been dropped into the heart of Bombay monsoons just as I was starting a new life. There was no time to be apprehensive; there was just so much to do! The monsoons just happened to form the setting of my story, and I took it as that.

But now, it’s been a year. I’ve been through the rains, the amazing winter and the unbearable heat. For the last one month, I’ve been claiming that I can’t wait for the rains to get here. I would get excited every time the clouds got bigger and blacker. I bought my umbrella and floaters in preparation. Unlike last year, this time I was prepared and ready.

And then the rain started.

I can’t get myself to step outside. Maybe it’s because I know what’s awaiting me, and I really don’t want to face it. Maybe it’s the fact that rain makes me want to get into a blanket and watch a movie. Maybe it’s the idea of standing under my umbrella, waiting for a bus while trying to protect my backpack, which doesn’t seem as courageous anymore. Maybe now that the monsoons are finally here, part of me is craving for summer to come back. Maybe I’m afraid that once I step out into the rain, it’s going to become sealed: there’ll be no turning back the monsoons.

Unfortunately, one thing I learnt last year is that waiting for the Bombay rains to stop means waiting for forever.

...

...

...

Here goes nothing.

Please Like Me

May the Most Likes Win

There used to be a point of time when talent counted for something.

When people were hired based on merit.

When an employer looked at your content.

When your ability to sing, dance or write decided if you became a singer, dancer or journalist respectively.

When the future of your talent did not depend upon your number of friends.

Today, all that matters is how many friends you have. And by ‘friends’, I mean:

People who’s inboxes / newsfeeds you have access to

People who you can spam

People who your ‘friends’ can spam

People who basically have nothing better to do in their life than ‘like’ you and your talent.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I believe in democracy. I believe in exercising our right to vote. But I do think there might be a few things out there that require our vote bank attention more than, say, the most liked video on youtube.

Or an article submitted in a journalism contest.

Or a dance routine.

Or a song.

Or the quality of a photograph.

Aren’t there certain criteria that can be used by qualified individuals in a company to choose the best entry? Clearly not. Here are a few possible reasons why:

1. Art is too subjective. You might like what I hate.
2. It’s too much cognitive work for judges
3. Why not make use of the 6+ billion people out there?
4. While we’re at it, why not push the onus of getting voted on the contestants themselves?
5. And while we’re at that, we might as well get our name / brand out there in the open. Just as a bonus.

So, if you haven’t already, start hoarding up as many contacts / followers as you can on Facebook / LinkedIn / Twitter / whatever virtual connection is out there. You never know when your future might depend on the click of a button: on your ability to be ‘liked’.

And here I was thinking that our obsession with popularity was a hormonal phase that we left behind in high school. 

It's a 'people' thing

And so it is, that after 22 years, 11 months and 9 days, I have realized something vital about myself: I don’t like being alone.

Take a minute to step back and rake through your memories. As you’re raking, try to pull out the best ones – the happiest, the funniest, the ones that make you smile. Now, keeping these in the forefront, sift through the ones that automatically float forward and ask yourself this: are you alone in that memory, or are you with someone?

Odds are, it’ll be the latter.

At least, that’s usually the case with me. My happiest memories don’t involve an A+ on a paper, or an email offering me an acceptance letter. They usually involve a scene with other people, rolling on the floor, laughing so hard that I can feel my stomach cramping up and the tears flowing uncontrollably down my face.

John Medina, the author of Brian Rules, has an interesting take on the reason humans have evolved as a species: it was because of our “learning to cooperate and forming teams with our neighbours” [http://www.brainrules.net/survival].

Although I doubt Medina was walking down memory lane when he came up with that particular brain rule, I can’t help but connect the two.  We as humans seem to have an innate desire to communicate – whether through words or actions – our thoughts and emotions. It’s what helps us understand one another and build relationships.

Since I don’t have the authority to speak on behalf of the entire human population, I’m just going to speak for myself:

I like talking to others.

I like listening to others.

I like I like eating with others.

I like drinking with others.

I like playing with others.

I like laughing with others.

I like being with others.

I don’t like being alone.