Mumbai today was to be seen to be believed. The anger spilled over today, with over a lakh people taking to the streets. I went there with a group of friends for a protest march which was expected to involve some 500-odd people. But I was totally unprepared for the sight which greeted me. A crowd which grew from 50 to 100 to 1000 to 10000 to 100,000!! Mothers with infants, fathers with kids riding on their shoulders, old couples who had trouble walking, were all there shouting at the top of their lungs. With chants of "Vande Matram" and "Bharat Mata ki Jai" all around, it was a different Mumbai today. A march which started with one individual posting on his blog that he would be there at the Gateway of India at 6 p.m. to protest the attacks. A chain which then grew on to include a lakh people. A march which grew to be the largest protest ever!

What was most moving was the power you felt as you struggled to walk with the crowd. The power of numbers. The power of a billion Indians who are now screaming "No more!". As we stood gazing at the once-proud building of Taj standing bruised, tears welled up in most eyes. Candles were lit, and people went to shake hands with armymen to express their gratitude to the true heroes of the nation. the emotion which we felt inside us, is difficult to put into words. Suffice it to say that it was probably one of the most moving experiences of my life, and I feel proud to have been a part of what I hope was only the beginning of a wave of change. Are you listening, Mr politician?

A note of gratitude

To those young people who came to my country in a hijacked boat, and shattered its very soul. We owe you more than we can ever give. For killing those 200-souls, and destroying what once marked the pride of India-the Taj. For inflicting so much pain that even the ‘city that never sleeps’ had to stand still and gasp in horror. For dealing that final blow which has made Mumbai scream out – ‘No More’.

The spirit of my country lies unconscious today, in serious need of resuscitation lest it dies. I can hardly believe that it’s not been even a full 6 months since I moved into Mumbai, and I hardly know enough to claim it my own – or did. The past 5 days has changed that. I now understand why they say that the deepest bonds are formed in intense pain. As this city bleeds to death, I feel its pain throbbing within me. The city which has been the anchor for millions, which has supported people in their struggling days, held them up in fame, and given them darkness to lose themselves in after their day of glory is over. The city has played a perfect mother. And today, she lies injured and denuded. She weeps not so much at her own pain, as at the pain and suffering of her children. I’d like to thank those terrorists who showed us this picture, which we had forgotten otherwise. The spirit of Mumbai which was always hailed as an excuse for people to shut up and be apathetic has finally been kept aside. And if was not for these young terrorsts, it might never so have happened. If ever this county is able to raise its head again, it will be largely credited to these terrorists who have left us with no option but to fight back – as one. These young, misguided souls gave us the opportunity to stand as one in those five days. As bleeding reporters jumped into the scene to rescue people, as the staff at Taj came in the firing line and saved lives, as the commandoes fought without a pause, something in India came alive. This is not the first time that I’ve seen a city under attack. But this is the first time I’ve seen a city so angry. And I don’t know how to thank these men for this commendable feat. Thank you for rousing us back to life, and though it hurts like hell down here, it’s worth the pain coz things are in for a change this time.

"Grieve my city, the pain is yours,

Scream my city, and let the pain spill out

Get angry, Get furious, Get mad

Coz u have every right to.

As the days pass, I feel I’ve lost a dear one

The images refuse to leave me,

the heaviness inside, it seems, has found a place to stay.

Over the years, every time I saw a person hurt or a child in tears

I’d go and try to blow the pain away,

But this time it’s different

As I wish the pain to stay

To scar us all, in so deep a way

That we become human again

And find a way to fight this darkness away

Winning the light we so deserve."

To the people of Gujarat,

The voice of democracy seems to have won again. 'Parzania'-a movie focusing on the true story of the turmoil brought into the lives of thousands affected by the Gujarat riots, shall not be screened in theatres across Gujarat, after a political activist attempted self-immolation. The director, producer and actors of the movie - what should we say to you-well too bad, but how did you ever think of taking enough liberty to assume that Indian public was mature enough to rest its judgment on its sensibilities? Did you actually think that a democracy entitles you to freedom of speech and expression so that you can voice worthless emotions like that of compassion, empathy and sorrow over what happened to your brethren living in Gujarat? You thought we would let you do that? Oh, come on you got to be joking! Wasn’t the fate of 'Fanaa' in Gujarat enough to warn you? That one still has us laughing. The distributors of 'Fanaa' actually thought that we would screen their movie despite their lead actor voicing his opinion on 'sensitive' issues, like the Narmada dam. Don't take it personally, Mr. Aamir Khan. We happen to love your movies (haven't missed one in the last 10 years!). But we are the self-appointed protectors of democracy and secularism in the country, and we cannot be setting wrong precedents, can we?

We are ‘dutifully bound to protect' the billion-plus population of this country by wrapping bands of ignorance over their eyes and denying them the right to retrospect over happenings like the Gujarat riots. People say that we should allow retrospection because acknowledgement of a mistake is the first step towards learning from it, and acknowledgement of pain and suffering is the building block of the rehabilitation and healing process. Well, good arguments. But we are 'dutifully bound’, as we told you.

The media and the so-called conscientious citizens pester us by pointing out that Gujarat was the centre of pioneering movements like the Satyagraha, and the birthplace of Mahatma Gandhi. They ask us how can Gujarat then show intolerance and bigotry? Well, we find this question a little out of relevance. And we choose to answer this by posing a question of our own- to the people of Gujarat and to the people of India, in general. How is it that you remember Satyagraha and Mahatma Gandhi, and you don't remember Graham Staines and his sons, and the Godhra carnage?

After the Godhra incident, people like you created a lot of hullabaloo and so we ordered an inquiry into the incident - a complete waste of time and money if you ask us – but we did it nevertheless. Justices VR Krishna Iyer and PB Sawant—both retired judges of the Supreme Court-- who headed a citizens tribunal into the Gujarat carnage, observed that “the post Godhra carnage was an organized crime perpetuated by the state’s chief minister and his government” and held Gujarat’s CM to be “the chief author and architect of all that happened in Gujarat after the arson of February 27, 2002.”. The National Human Rights Commission and the Supreme Court of India drew similar conclusions about the head of the state of Gujarat. Well, the report did kind of scare us initially, but we had forgotten how short a memory you, the people of this country, have. You had moved on with your lives, the carnage forgotten and buried under a pile of many more mini Godhras which happen every day. The power of questioning weighed heavily in your favor at that time. But you chose not to exercise it.

You chose to keep silent when Bharat Mandal, a 28 year old farmer in West Bengal, was shot dead by the CPI-M workers for protesting against land acquisition or when the protests following the brutalization and murder of a Dalit family in Khairlanji allowed the Nagpur police to pull out a 55 year old woman and other protestors from their homes and thrash them into silence, or even when a protesting rickshaw driver in Amravati was shot point blank in the head. You could have made your voice heard then, and maybe made a difference. But you chose to look the other way and mumble a quick word of gratitude to the powers above that you were untouched so far, in all this spate of hate and violence.

The Gujarat of Mahatma Gandhi and Satyagraha is a distant memory, dear people. The Gujarat that we have created in the past decade, reeks of intolerance, indifference and inhumanity- and trust us, it's not been easy doing this. Our blood and sweat has gone into the creation of this new state that you see. And now you tell us, this is not what you want? Well, if you decided to keep mum then, what makes you speak today? You say we are violating the fundamentals of democracy. We say that we have redefined democracy. You think that a nationwide protest against reservation should yield results-because in your opinion, that is the voice of democracy. Unfortunately, you have kept silent for too long. Now, the voice of democracy is ours- the self-appointed leaders and protectors of the Indian masses. And that's why, when a handful of us decide that 'Parzania' be shot down, or Graham Staines and his sons be brutally murdered, or that people be burnt alive at Godhra, or that we act as intercessors between you and your God through the Gujarat Freedom of Religion (Amendment) Bill 2006, or that hundreds of crores of your hard earned money goes in the mindless changing of names of states when millions in the country survive without 2 square meals a day, that's just how it is. You, dear citizen, are immature and naive. You don't understand what's good and what's not. And so, we have taken the reins in our hand. We decide for you. We rewrite the rules of the game. And you watch, and watch silently. Because your voice has been taken away-with your permission.

Yours truly,

The Elected Imposter

One of my closest and dearest friends met with an accident yesterday.I got the news through a guy who I barely know and the moments passed before I could speak to my friend finally, were moments that I think I shall remember for a very long time. What was most frustrating was that I could not even be with my friend , for I am on vacation at home. It's surprising, how a few moments of uncertainty bring home the fact of how important and how priceless some people are to your very existence. As we rush through our lives at this breakneck speed, and forget to appreciate most of life's marvels, we also forget to express our gratitude for the most precious people in our lives .These moments of dreaded uncertainty, when we feel we are close to losing someone we truly love are probably God's own way of bringing us back to reality, and of giving us a chance to thank him for bringing these people into our lives.
I ,in the 21 years I've spent on this planet (ooh am I old!!!) have faced quite a lot of ups and downs (a lot of downs recently!), and I know that if it hadn't been for this close close group of my angelic friends,I might not have survived this the way i did. I dedicate the moments I spent praying for the safety of my dear friend to all these beautiful people in my life, who make my sunsets and sunrises all the more meaningful, and who by their very presence bless my life in ways untold.

hmmph..its the end of vacations...the short n sweet diwali break comes to an end. This is 3:27 a.m. I have a train to catch at 6 a.m. and I have a familiar kind of an uneasiness in my tummy-which never lets me sleep on the night before my departure!And since I had nothing better to do,I rememberd the blog I had started over a month ago...wid the promise of blogging regularly and so here I am-writing God knows what! I am kind of telling myself that now that I am a third yr student-goin into my final year in the space of a few months I shuold be able to handle my departures from home better! But of course , when has the mind been able to dictate terms to the heart?Stupid it is, but yet I'm again a little nostalgic.
As I recall the girl who left this place for college 3 years back , and compare her with the 'me' of today I barely see any resemblances! That's kind of good and kind of bad-bad because I kind of liked the girl I've left behind and good because I know that now I'm better equipped to face this world,which is beautiful at some times but mercilessly evil at others. Though I do miss, at times, the kind of faith I used to have in things like love and in the general righteousness and sense of justice of people in general,I realize this is in a way an awakening, a rude one though. Its like the breaking of a cocoon as you walk out into the glaring light.Suddenly, what you thought was the universe,your cocoon has shattered and you are exposed to a world whose existence was beyond your knowledge...
Ok...weird kindof philosophy when I re-read wat I have written but I told you I'm kind of nostalgic and nostalgia does funny things to you!And though i have second thoughts about this,I think I'll publish it anyway!

I was reading this article in Readers' Digest on blogging.It said that it seems everyone who breathes oxygen is suddenly blogging to tell the world that he does!!! I read it and realised that this was my opportunity to prove that I breathe too..and so here I am writing my first post on my first blog.
It's a bad weekend-just like the one before exams usually is. Infact, the regularity of my absolutely boring routine on the weekend before the exams could be funny,if it was not so .....well...ummm...boring! I usually (read that as 'always'!) set my alarm to 8:30 am when I go to sleep on a friday night-with glorious ideas of getting up in the morning and studying with a fresh mind etc etc. Now, friday nights pass real quick (they never teach you that in geography, I wonder why!) and even before you realise you are sleeping, the alarm begins to buzz. I keep it snoozing every 5 mins and finally turn it off.By the time I wake up it is somewhere between 10:30-11.There goes my early morning study! By the time I finish lunch and go to the library (jise hum pyar se RC bulate hain!!) , it's the sleepiest part of the day in the library. So,I go and dump my books , try in vain to study for half an hour without getting so much as a word into my brain.Then I cannot control the urge to sleep and put my head down and drift off, promising to wake up in 10mins.Now, this is something that I have mastered since I came to college (and I'm afraid it's the only thing!)-how to go to sleep in space of a few seconds by just placing your head against some kind of a stable object,oblivious to all kind of noise around you-even when it is a prof screaming into a microphone in the LT!! Anyway,getting back to where I was, as soon as I close my eyes and begin to drift, the RC guy walks up and raps on the table in the most irritating way. Seriously,I feel all that this guy does is watch when I go to sleep coz he's there the next moment rapping ! So much for my sleep.I get up, give him an irrritated look which he smugly ignores, and with that villainous twinke in his eyes , he walks away. After another hour or so of wasted effort I'm back to my room wondering what in the world are we studying so hard for?
I know it's funny that this philosophy always hits me right before an exam-but it's still unanswered.
From what I had read, and heard from people of my parent's generation,college years were supposed to be the best years of your life, where you made your best memories, and your best friends. I've been lucky ,no doubt , in getting my closest pals here but I doubt if you could call these the best years of one's life!It seems so pointless after a while-you slog and slog and get into an engineering college, and then you slog and slog again to get decent grades , and then you slog and slog to get into a B-school, and then you are slogging again at that high paying job you got.Goodness, the very thought depresses me.
I grew up believing that God had sent me into his world for a very special purpose.and as I grew up, I was sure I would realise what that purpose was some day. But here I'm 21 years old, looking ahead at life and wondering where that purpose could be in all this slogging that i see ahead.Sure,I want a job, and all the other usual stuff that people want from life,I guess. But I want to believe that there's something else to my life too, a purpose which will guide the rest of my life,which I will feel happy following and which will give me the satisfaction of being the person God had made with a purpose in His mind.