When I travelled through Australia a couple of years ago, I had been warned by plenty of Indians to be careful. Careful of racism.

So when I got there, I expected to face some kind of discrimination because of my skin colour. However, to my surprise, in the small town of Maroochydore, where I was staying, it was actually my skin colour that got me favours, helped introduce me to friendly strangers on buses and polite courteous Aussie men who'd offer to carry my bags when I was struggling with them.

Naturally, when I returned to India, I spent a lot of time telling people how wrong their perceptions of Australians are, and what wonderful folk they really are. Now, in the light of the recent attacks on Indian students in Australia, I didn't know what to think anymore.

A couple of days ago, I was talking to my (Indian) friend who lives in Australia, and I happened to bring up the attacks against Indians that have been reported internationally. Immediately dismissing accusations of Australians being racist, he proceeded to explain to me how, in fact, it's the desi folk who go around asking for trouble and then come home crying when they get it.

According to this friend of mine, Indian people in Australia behave as if they are in India, and can get away with anything. They pee on the streets, interrupt people loudly, act rowdily in bars and violate rules with gay abandon.

"Indians here have no respect for other people's culture, rules and regulations. They act like they are in India, instead of respecting the fact that they are in someone else's country, where sab kuchh nahi chalta!" ranted my friend. "If a foreigner came to India and had no respect for your country, people or culture, how would you react to him?"

While I was somewhat glad to have my earlier view of Australia reaffirmed, it did put a spin on the way I had previously perceived the attacks.

What if he's right- what if the Aussies are not racist, and the fault lies with us Indians?

It's a thought!

With the elections beckoning around the corner, the most commonly asked question is, "Are you going to vote?" While many of us feel it's our moral duty this time more than any other, others are so disillusioned that they couldn't care less.

However, this election is seeing more young people than ever before, eager and willing to vote for candidates they actually have faith in. For the first time, many young people are enraged enough to quit their well-paying jobs and enter what used to be known as a "dirty business." Even college students this year are campaigning for their favorite candidates, and vowing to vote. India's youth, which comprises of the majority of its population, is finally ready to act!

And then there are those frustrated souls who want desperately to vote, but can't. Why, you ask? Well, more often than not, they are registered elsewhere and either can't afford to travel back to their hometowns, or can't be bothered to spend a whole day travelling to their previous place of residence just to vote. And we all know how hairy the process of getting such details changed is. It could be weeks, many headaches and frustrated trips to various offices before you can vote in your new location. Who has the time and patience for that? What the process refuses to take into account is the fact that people move and migrate all the time; and they are unlikely to return to their hometowns/previous residences just to cast their votes.

Says 25 year old Sharayna Desouza, "I just moved from South Mumbai to Thane last year. I travel for an average of 2-3 hours each day, just to get to work and back. Is it fair to ask me to travel all the way to South Mumbai on the one day I get off, just to vote? Why can't I be allowed to vote at the polling booth closest to me?"

I would take things a step further and say, why can't I vote online? The world is embracing the internet for all sorts of things ' payments, advertising, polls and yet, we haven't found a way to use the net for the most basic of rights- voting. Can you imagine how many more people would vote if they had the option of voting online or using the booth closest to their current locations without having to re-register? If Vodafone has found a way to let me pay my bill online, if HDFC Bank allows me to make transactions online, then I'm sure the Indian Government can find a way to let me vote online.

If Sharayna thinks it's a pain to waste half her day to vote, can you imagine the plight of the fellow who works in Delhi but is registered in Bihar? I'd be willing to bet that no matter how patriotic he might be, travelling all the way to his hometown just to cast a vote would just not be on his list of options!

The tragedy of Indian elections - and this one in particular - is the fact that so many willing voters won't be exercising their most basic right, simply because of bad logistics. It is the fact that though this time less people are indifferent and more young people are eager to have their voices heard, a lot of these voices will be lost in transit.

Why must the process of voting be made so difficult that it serves to discourage? When we urge people to do their "duty" and cast their vote, shouldn't we also make the situation conducive for them to do so?

This year, Earth Hour was observed on the 28^th of March, between 8.30pm and 9.30pm locally, in a staggering 800 countries worldwide. The concept of this event was that businesses and residences were asked to turn off their lights for an hour to show concern about Climate Change.

Nothing and no-one was exempt from this event ' the Big Ben in London turned out its lights for sixty minutes on the 28^th of March, the Eiffel Tower shut off its 20,000 bulbs; the Great Pyramids, Las Vegas and the London Eye were all plunged into pitch dark to show solidarity and concern about the issue of Climate Change.

All except the Lakme Fashion Week in Mumbai. The show at the Grand Hyatt Hotel in Mumbai carried on uninterrupted, explicitly ignoring the worldwide event. The shows went on as scheduled, the bartenders continued to mix drinks, the elegant gentry continued to sashay along the hotel lobby, their diamonds catching the light that should ideally have been turned off along with the ones on the Big Ben and Eiffel Tower.

Not once during my endless trips up and down the venue did I hear a peep about Earth Day, or the Fashion Week's disregard for it. Oh, except once, in the courtyard, where two foreign male models were making a reference to it.

Model 1: Dude, they haven't turned off the lights yet.

Model 2: Turned off the lights for what?

Model 1: Earth Day ' it's today, right?

Model 2: Oh yes. But this is India, dude can you imagine the chaos if they did?

And there was a smirk, a few more sips of red wine, and they headed backstage- for hair and makeup before the shows commenced, uninterrupted and as scheduled.

We know our country is known for blatantly ignoring what we don't find convenient- and we are all guilty of having broken a few rules now and then to suit ourselves.

But would it have been such an inconvenience if we'd have delayed Day Two of the Lakme Fashion Week by an hour, if just to say, "Yes, we care too?"

So they say Soumya Vishwanathan's killers have finally been caught ' and a motive established. The killers in another case (Jigisha Ghosh's murder) were caught, and the cops soon stumbled upon the fact that the same people were involved in Soumya Vishwanathan's murder as well. (Am I the only one this sounds suspicious to?)

However, the police claim that the motive behind Soumya Vishwanathan's bizarre murder on Delhi's Nelson Mandela Road at 3.30 am one night, was simply road rage. It seems that because Soumya overtook the ruffians' car, they put a bullet through her brain.

 Now while this may not be the most bizarre thing you've heard happen in Delhi ' the capital is, after all, the most violent city in India ' this doesn't sound right to me.

To refresh memories, let me recap the case quickly. Soumya Vishwanathan, a young journalist with Headlines Today was returning home one September night last year, when the incident occurred. The cops that reached the scene that night say it looked like an accident in the beginning; with the car rammed straight into the divider. Until, that is, they discovered the bullet lodged in Soumya's head. Strangely, none of Soumya's possessions were stolen, and the haunting image of one golden kolhapuri chappal by the pedals of the car became the image synonymous with the shocking murder.

Though the matter escalated, with hundreds of journalists protesting in different ways, the police was making no headway in finding the guilty party, or a motive for the killing. Until recently.

While investigating Jigisha Ghosh's murder (the young Hewitt employee who was abducted and killed a week ago), the police "stumbled upon" evidence that linked the same killers to both the cases. While in Jigisha's case, the motive was theft, Soumya seems to have paid the price of someone's rage with her life.

However, this all sounds a bit shady to me. Isn't it just too convenient that a pending case was neatly wrapped up with an ongoing one? That a bunch of boys are roaming the streets of Delhi, randomly killing young girls for different reasons each time? That having their car overtaken got them so mad that they speeded up till they were carefully alligned beside the moving car, aimed for her head, and shot the young woman driver? That they could even aim, while both cars were moving at such high speeds?

The loopholes in the facts of this case have me pointing a finger at the incompetent police force yet again. Are they hiding behind yet another smokescreen, covering up their inefficiency? Is this another Ansal Plaza/ Batla House? I wish I knew.

Does the fact that I knew Soumya when we were both little girls influence how strongly I feel about this case? Probably. And I don't want the men who killed her to go scot-free just because the police found it easier to target someone whose neck was already in the noose. And I certainly don't want another young woman to be found with a mysterious bullet in her skull before we realise that.

In my impotency of being a mere citizen, I can only hope the cops have got the right guys ' that Soumya's death will be avenged.

If this generation has one phenomenon that's taken it by storm and changed the very way we interact with each other, even adding new words to our vocabularies, it's Facebook!

If SMS-speak wasn't enough, now we have a completely new and improved gamut of communication tools.

This tool has made most others redundant and old fashioned. Who needs to call their BFF to exchange a daily update when you can take a minute and have all 345 of your friends know it in a single sweep?

Got admission to a B-school you were dying to get into? Announce your big news on FB- and then accept the numerous glasses of champagne you receive from friends as part of the virtual celebration.

Broken up with your boyfriend? Change your relationship status on FB- and your friends will see the little broken heart that tells them you're no longer together.

Who needs text messages when you have a "Wall?" No character limits and it doesn't cost you 30p. Want to have a private conversation with someone? Just shoot them a private message!

Throwing a party? Create a group, and send out invitations to all those you want to see at your do.

And for those of you who are awkward flirts, well, this is the tool you've been waiting for! From raunchy virtual gifts to virtual underwear, pokes that allow you to send your sweetheart big red lips or a caress; well, words are almost redundant now. For, the last time we checked, actions still spoke louder than words.

Remember that cute girl you met at a party last night but didn't dare to ask for her number? Simply add her on FB- it's easier, doesn't require as much courage and is less intrusive.

Not only is Facebook a social tool, it's now become a marketing one. Small businesses are advertised on Facebook groups, photographs of products and services are uploaded along with personal testimonials from group members.

And one cannot ignore how it's also become a social-consciousness-generation tool. Just run a search for groups and initiatives related to the 26/11 terror attacks, and more recently, the Pink Chaddi campaign that have been launched on FB, and you'll know what I'm talking about.

What started as a clever website invented in a college dormitory has now turned into an institution that has kept many friendships from dying their natural deaths, revived many of those that already had, and made tons and tons of those that would never had been.

It has brought people together towards common causes, helped advertise businesses without burning a hole in any pockets, and generally made the world a much smaller place (if it wasn't small enough already!)

While there are those who crib about not having any privacy anymore, or losing the real feeling of communication, I say I'm all for it.

I think it's great that I can run a search for an old kindergarten friend, and find out about her latest job, wedding and kids in less than three minutes. I love the fact that I don't need to wait to meet my friend before getting to see pictures of his latest trip- they're just a click away- complete with "tags" that tell me who the people in the picture are. And I'm totally floored by the concept of playing Scrabble with my friends online!

Because, quite frankly, in this day of running to keep still, nobody really has the time for "real communication" and the "charm of letters" anymore.

The need of the hour is just to find a way to stay in touch- and if it's quick, free, trendy and convenient, who can complain?

When I tell anyone who's old enough to be my Uncle or Aunt I'm single and live alone in Mumbai, their brows furrow with worry and their first question is always, "What do you do about food?" And if I confirm their worst fear and say I don't cook (yes, such people do exist), they immediately invite me for lunch/dinner/breakfast, pack some sandwiches and cold cuts in a plastic zip bag or wrap up some homemade cake for me, and send me trotting off, clutching my goody bag.

While I am pleased as punch at being on the receiving end of homemade goodies, I do try to tell them that it's not necessary- I really don't mind depending on the neighbourhood Subway for late Sunday brunches and the local fast food joints around the corner for a late-night dosa.

Younger people, on the other hand, react in a completely different way. There have been envious sighs, glances of admiration, and yes, on more than one occasion, there has been a subtle, "Is your landlord cool?" which in party-speak means, "Can we have a party there sometime?"

And then there's the third category- the kindred spirit. This is either a very good friend, or a fellow young single non-Mumbaikar who lives in a rented home like you do, and gets both the raw and sweet end of the deal, just as you do. This one usually reacts with a grin and a nod. The grin which says, "Good for you- you're really doing it," and the nod which says, "Been there, done that; I know how it is."

So we hold hands, form a support group of these kindred spirits and wade through the trials of pest control, incompetent bais, unreasonable landlords, food crisis, broke days and homesickness together. These people exist on our speed dial lists, our weekend plans and forgotten hair clips or T-shirts in our houses.  

We also happily make our way through the sweet end of the deal of no curfews or worried parents, having multiple houses to sleep at, depending on which part of town Saturday night saw you, and the freedom to host the sort of parties no parent would approve of, at a moment's notice.

So while the incompetent bais, unreasonable landlords, food crisis, broke days and homesickness are very real and very daunting aspects of being Single in the City, the upsides more than make up for it.

Apart from the seemingly frivolous freedoms of partying, living alone gives you the very solid lesson of independence. It teaches you that shit happens, it's not personal and at the end of the day, you gotta learn to let the troubles slide off you and move on.

It teaches you that vada pavs often make a great dinner when you've been too lazy too arrange for anything better, that rats climbing up the drainpipe and scampering around your bedroom are VERY scary when you're alone, that cranky landlords can be Satan reincarnated and that to make it from one day to the next with your sanity intact, you need your kindred souls on your speed dial list and preferably in the neighbourhood.

So while I appreciate the packets of food and dinner invitations, my life-line would have to be the hands I hold in times of crisis and I-don't-know-what-to-do! The family that Singles need to find away from home to keep their heads above the water.

First off, before I start, I must confess that although I don't believe I am a Delhi-ite, I did grow up in Delhi. So, much against my will, a lot of Delhi has seeped into me and is now an essential part of me. So a lot of my opinions are naturally tinged with impressions of the city I spent most of my life in.

When I first arrived in Mumbai two years ago, I believed all the rumours I'd heard when I was still living in Delhi. Including that it was a professional city. Now, when I heard "professional," I assumed everyone around me would be professional too. Unfortunately, what it really meant was that YOU had to be professional. The rest of the population, of course, could do as they pleased.

So, slowly but surely, I learnt that the cabbies and rickshaw-waalas could openly flaunt the law, restaurants could offer the shabbiest service, traffic jams could take away hours of your day (ironically, in a city where time is money), and you wouldn't do anything about any of it. Because you were always in a rush to get somewhere. Because you were too busy being professional.

So I  learnt to leave the house fifteen (precious) minutes earlier to look for a cab, quickly change my order when restaurants took too long to bring what I actually wanted, and catch a nap when in the middle of a jam. Basically, I learnt to take it lying down.

Now that's not how it works in Delhi. In Delhi, I would have fought with the rickshaw-waala who refused to take me someplace because it was too close, and he would have backed down in under five minutes. If he hadn't, I would have threatened to call the cops, and he would be quaking in his boots. (The cops in Delhi are far crueler than the ones in Mumbai).

In that restaurant, I would have demanded the service I was paying for and refused to either leave or pay until I got it. That's what we do in Delhi, and while it may sound crude to some, it really isn't. It's about standing up for your rights, and not allowing someone to walk all over you.

Because the Dilli-waalas do that, it ensures they're treated well. It ensures that the cabbie will think twice before shooting his mouth at you, the restaurant will have more polite and efficient waiters, and the traffic cops will dissolve jams caused by fighting cabbies before someone gets out of his Mercedes and demands to know what's taking so long. When the culture of a place is such that you could get into trouble for not doing your job, you automatically pull up your socks and make sure you're with it- for the most part at least. But when you know all your clients/customers are coming to you with a Chalta Hai attitude, you lean back, lazily cross your legs and decide how professional you want to be today.

So while the cabbies will all be off the road during the monsoons this year, waiting for fairer weather before they deign to grace the streets, we'll be swimming our way to office.

Ah, well, I guess Mumbai's professionalism is a selective term!

Last weekend, I was walking around Bandra, a Mumbai suburb when I spotted three young women on a shopping spree. As I walked behind them, I caught snatches of their conversation- about the latest fashions, the hideous shoes one of their friends wore last night, and how expensive evening gowns were. They were sauntering along one of the streets that are heavily populated with clothing stores, and window shopping was as much a part of their outing as actual shopping was.

A few minutes later, I saw them stop outside a building and look up at it. The shop they wanted to check out was on the first floor, which posed a problem for them.

Because, you see, one of the women was in a wheelchair.

And there was no way she could wheel herself up the steep stairs to get to the store. After a short discussion, it was decided that the girls would check out that shop some other day- for now, it was time for a quick snack at the roadside paani-puri vendor.

While I didn't stay to watch what happened next, I can safely bet that the girl in question would have encountered numerous such seemingly small hurdles, which means there are plenty of places that she would never have visited and things she couldn't do.

As I finished my walk, I looked around at the various shops and eateries, marveling at how unfriendly they were to handicapped people. Ramps for wheelchairs are virtually non-existent in India; provisions that would make it possible for handicapped people to lead normal lives almost unheard of.

When was the last time you saw a wheelchair in a movie theatre? Or in a first floor restaurant? Or even in your office if you're on one of the higher floors? Even if an establishment is located on the ground floor, there are usually two or three steps leading up to it, but no ramp to wheel anyone up! Add to that heavy doors that need to be pulled open, and you've succeeded in keeping your establishment free of anyone who's less than able-bodied.

As I stepped into KFC for lunch, I realized that even a task as simple as getting a burger was impossible for someone in a wheelchair. To add to the non-existence of a ramp, the added fact that all the tables were on the first floor made sure that only able-bodied folk could step in for some fried chicken.

On all my travels abroad, I have noticed the special provisions that all establishments are compelled to provide for those who can't walk. There are ramps everywhere, parking spots reserved for the disabled, cars specially designed for those who can't use their legs to drive and seats reserved for them almost everywhere.

In India, on the other hand, we add insult to injury by providing a seat for the handicapped on our buses, but no way for them to climb in!