Me. An Average Indian.

The alarm goes off and, instinctively, I hit snooze. Few more minutes of my time are not going to make a difference in Suresh Sir’s life, is it? His client can wait, I need my beauty sleep.

I brush my teeth and my half closed eyes catch sight of the price on the paste carton. WHAT?! My mind awakens instantly, HE CHARGED ME THREE WHOLE RUPEES OVER THE MRP?! How dare he, I’m never shopping there again. And then I feel a lapse inside myself as I think whatever, it’s just three rupees, what value does it have these days, anyway. Plus, the shop is so convenient….

As I make the coffee, I throw the banana peel into dustbin…. Curse, when it missed it by a few inches. Ah well, the maid will come in soon, it’s her job anyway.

The milkman calls out. I go outside to get my milk, absent mindedly throwing the dirty water in the vessel on the neighbor’s wall. Oops, she just whitewashed it… maybe she won’t notice.

I smell the fresh newsprint, like I always do, and sip the bitter brew while scanning the headlines. “BABY FALAK DIES OF CARDIAC ARREST”. My eyes moisten for a second, I’d been following the story for some time now. No human being deserves what was done to her… much less a baby, I thought.  I read the rest of the story on page 10…. The advertisement on the side caught my eye. “NEW FOR OLD OFFER”. My thoughts wander…. maybe I should exchange my old laptop and the mixer for that new Inspiron I saw the other day… So sleek, so cool it was… Maybe…

Local elections are on; I snigger at the uselessness of the whole system and wonder where my Voter’s ID is. I proudly proclaim to all and sundry that I don’t vote. What’s the point? Nothing’s going to change.

I dress and head out, I’m already late. I curse the lights for turning red at that precise moment and tap my foot impatiently on the kerb. The boy comes to me with wide, brown eyes and a dirty, dirty face. He has the face of a golden retriever with honesty, cuteness and helpless abandon writ all over him. My will hiccups as I pull out a ten-rupee note... he looks like he should be my niece’s classmate. Which reminds me, I HAVE to get her that HP limited edition set she’s been begging for since January…. Doesn’t matter if it costs half my salary, she is my princess, who else will spoil her?

I huff into my office and snap at the attendant for delaying the lift. He bows his head and mutters an apology. So what if he can’t walk? He’s paid to operate the lifts, he can do at least that efficiently. Loafer, kahin ka.

I start getting calls almost as soon as I log in. I put my headset on Good morning, this is xxx customer care, how may I help you? I deliver in my best chirpy voice. The customer is having trouble checking his balance and I wonder what rock he lives under to not know even that much in this day and age. I check records, he lives in Vanaprastha Home. Ugh, why don’t his children take care of him? At least I won’t have stupid old men asking me foolish questions first thing in the morning.

I saunter in after my long, lazy lunch. Though I wish I hadn’t taken Sumeeta with me; thanks to her I spent the better part of three hours listening to how her baby’s smile was magical.
The boss isn’t in yet. There’s a commotion outside his office. I walk up to Arjun’s cabin and ask what’s going on. Suresh Bansal had a heart attack early in the morning, he is stable now but under observation.

Involuntarily, my mind thinks will they give us a day off?!! I shake off the hope and tch, tch with the rest.

Payday! I pack my bag at 5 hoping the TL will let me leave early and check my account to find the salary credited. Wooohooooo! Shopping spree. My board lights up but I ignore them, say I’m done. White lies don’t matter..... everybody lies anyway.

I reach home with a lighter wallet but a happy heart. The neighbours were fighting again. I heard her scream once and everything was silent. Who am I to interfere, I think. Their domestic issues.

I cook and I eat in candle light, thinking about the day. I can’t finish the bowl of rice and I walk out to the overflowing street dustbins. The stray looks at me with longing eyes; wagging his pitiful tail. The action makes his bones stick out even more. Ugh, such a dirty animal. If I feed him now, he’ll expect the same every day. I dump the bowl into the dustbin and shoo him away.

I do the laundry, I brush my teeth and I fall asleep.

---

I am an average Indian. I live in a Metropolitan city. I eat. I live.

I tch, tch about an honor killing, like/share a Facebook page and lend my support by posting a picture of me in a black dress to proclaim my protest.

I love my own religion, all other Gods are irrelevant.
I love my own State, every other State and its people are backward, dirty and talk funny.

I will isolate that ‘loose’ girl even if I have secretly spent nights in my boyfriend’s apartment.

I refuse to do any work that is beyond the scope of my duties, I refuse to help others even if it is within my ability. What if it rebounds on me?

I will call Keenan and Reuben stupid inwardly for interfering unnecessarily. I will say the rape victim got what she deserved.

I am indifferent.

To everything that doesn’t affect me directly.

To everyone I have no reason to care about.

from dweebness.wordpress.com

It’s time to change. 

 http://ohmenver.tumblr.com/post/12916269499

This might be just another post for a contest on Indiblogger.  And yes, I do have my eyes set on the prizes, as well (proving that, well, I'm every bit as indifferent as portrayed). But the sentiment is one that I have been wanting to voice for some time now. Thank you, Stayfree India, for prodding me into posting this. 

If this makes even one person take that little extra effort to feed a dog with leftovers or contribute ten rupees to a child's education or vote compulsorily at the next elections, rather than being indifferent, I shall consider the post to have been a quality addition to my life.

The views expressed in the post are my own and I take full responsibility for them. It is not my intention to hurt any sentiments, feel free to disagree. But do allow me to exercise my freedom of thought, opinion and speech.

Doings, Happenings and Other-Ings

Caution: This post has no head, no tail and nothing in between that is related. 


We had Gokulashtami celebrations in college, and some.
It's a huge deal for us; we get to work on making our department procession floats the most awesome (obviously hoping we win). The best part for us, girls, is that we get to dress up (read: Obsessive Compulsive Planning Disorder for at least two weeks now).

So I noticed some stuff, stuff that I shouldn't probably write about. But I will still go ahead and do it, because I am a blundering fool who loves getting her butt handed out to her for not having been politically correct. I don't like something, I will blog about it:P (yes, I can't keep shut, nor do I want confrontations AND I have an opinion. Quite a piece of work, ain't I?:P)

So anyway, blehs happen and make me go

like..

1) People will do anything for power. And power here, in a college like mine, is getting to do what you want (even if it is the stupidest thing since Rakhi Sawant's implants) while trampling over the most sensible of ideas.

2) Saris can be EXTREMELY fun to wear. Quite a statement coming from me because till yesterday I despised saris (because they can and are worn in all the wrong ways while still being called a traditional dress that makes a girl look 'homely'. PAH!). But since yesterday, I have altered my statement slightly and say, yes, saris, if worn properly, can make you feel like a frikkin' princess:)

3) There are a whole horde of people who will do absolutely no work, contribute not so much as a sneeze in the direction of the celebrations, not emotionally, not physically, not monetarily and still find it in their heart to turn up, take part and turn their goddamn snooty noses up about how mediocre it was.

4) Guys (read: I speak about one particular breed:P) look SEXY in traditional attire. Much more than you believed possible :D

5) People will get drunk at all inconvenient times. And make you yearn for a couple of shots yourself just so you can handle the tension in the air. Too bad I don't drink, I wish I did.
6) Drunk people say wonderful things:D Enough said.

7) It is VERY easy to 'trim' one of your eyebrows off in the middle making it look like a half-mowed mini-lawn (yes, that was one of yours truly's feats and no I'm not going to put up a picture of it).

8) People love freaking out. We love making a scene about how things are going wrong and how we'd have done it differently and all the bull that goes with it.

We love telling people how THEY were wrong as well. To hell with productivity and co-operation. And people love rubbing our faces in how many tonnes of work they did, how they single-handedly lifted Mt. Govardhan.

9) It's trendy to be different. Who cares if you actually believe in the cause. You come up with the most retarded idea which has no connection to the project-in-question and that, my child, will earn you respect and adoration and adulation and whatnot that you crave from the very depths of your being.

10) I have the most uncooperative, divided class ever which doesn't give a shit what other people feel, do. I include myself in this.

Now that my bloodlust is satisfied (and I have avenged my bff on several counts:P Another story), I move onto happier things..

I'm fast approaching 100 posts:)
And somebody teach me how to install Disqus without losing previous comments.

It's been raining awards. Making me one truly happy and at-peace blogger.

First Risha did.
Then Spaceman gave it right back to me.
Then Gowthami decided that my blog is lovely.

And Madame Tay-Tay says she digs my blog.

Which I want to pass on to PsychBabbler. I was looking for the perfect award for her and now I have found it for I totally, entirely dig her blog.

Creme de la creme? BlogJunta's Junta of the Month (July - Veteran Blogger)

Well, what more can a blogger want, I say. I am truly very, very honored, it doesn't stop being true how many ever times I keep saying it. The attention-junkie in me is screaming out in ecstasy.

And it's a wonderful feeling when, what you consider your highly mediocre writing talents, are admired by people; enough that you come to mind in the same sentence as award. Means more than I can ever convey in writing (which is saying something, considering that is the only way I know to express things properly).

Thank you, peepuls. So berry much.
(I promise never to bore you with so much rant or emotion overload any more, ever again)

Now I go to sleep dreaming of the yummy pasta that I'm going to polish off without mercy tomorrow. Thank you in advance, Nandu.
And get ready for Spaceman Spiff's lablooey guest post.
She's brought it, and how:)

P.S: I did the linkbacks only this time, since I did the whole hullabaloo last time. Not like y'all want to know hundreds of random things about me, right?
P.P.S: I worked black magic on my comments box and a lot of the previous comments have changed order. I don't know how to fix it, so please don't be mad if my replies have come above your comments.
P.P.S.S: Did you know I have a blog badge? Just saying:P