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iLand Wars !!!

August 28th, 2008
37 comments

I can understand what William Godwin must have been going through when he said, ” Every man has a certain sphere of discretion which he has a right to expect shall not be infringed upon by his neighbours.This right flows from the very nature of man.”
 
Wondering what I want to convey, let me do so without further ado.
 
Its been three and half months since I joined iLand and, no this is not a tribute about all the good things I came across! The number of friends I made! What a beautiful world of images, thoughts and conversations I chanced upon!
 
NO, no this is not about any of that. This is about something else, I would say a rather very important aspect of iLanding. Its about comments and Guestbook entries that others come and acknowledge your space with. Dilip Krishnan says that comments are the lifelines of blogs and I couldn’t agree with him more. After all, it is impromptu what others write about your articles. Moreover, it gives an extensive insight into the kind of person who has read your blog. Over time, I have even realised who by and large comments how. Nadiraji has written a wonderful piece about her perceptions on that a few months ago and no one could have put it more aptly.
 
But, there is another aspect here that troubles me once in a while. I have seen ” ad hominem” being commited in the guise of constructive criticism by a few. For those of you who are wondering what ad hominem is like I did, when my father used this term often it is ” an arguement that relies on personal attacks rather than reason or substance.”
Each one of us when posts a blog puts in extensive effort into his work, even those who copy paste some write ups do it because they found something interesting that they would like to share with us. We are all diverse in our age, level of thinking, knowledge, interests, backgrounds and experiences that not everything that is written on some one’s space would be our cup of tea.
 
At such times, even on my friends blogs (they know this !! ) I have moved on without a comment or discreetly sent them an email wording my thoughts rather than leaving caustic remarks. I do not expect sugar coated comments on my blogs, I am game for criticism. There are some who have questioned and critiqued me contructively and I have appreciated it and learnt from it (Sahil Banga, Frozen Sun am sure can vouch for that !! )
 
But, a few of you think I am humorous so anything can be said. I would like to differ. Yes, I am humourous and I can by and large take most things with a pinch of salt but, if I end up giving you a dose of your own medicine and you cannot take it then..I must say you are being a petulant child rather than a majestic blogger. Whenever I have disagreed or had something more to say I have maintained my politeness. Jean de la Fontaine once said ” Nothing is more dangerous than a friend without discretion; even a prudent enemy is preferable.” I also know as Gandhiji said, ” An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind.”
 
So, it is my humble appeal to those of you who do not find my writings worthy enough, please feel free to comment or GB but do it in a civilised manner. I came here to spread smiles around and will continue to do so. I have nurtured my space with a great deal of affection and consider my space sacred, please do not litter it with your trash.
 
One final thing, each persons’s goals are varied, and what comes easy to one may be difficult for another. Therefore, do not squash other’s dreams. This is a surefire way to know that you aren’t working towards fulfilling your own.
 
PS…A few of you might come and say Hey Mona darling ( Ajit’sh ishtyle) ! what happened…let me tell you nothing happened…I have nothing against anyone….You might wonder why the hue and cry then?? The answer is I felt like becoming a bit serious rather than be silly all the time. :)))))))))))
 

The only constant…

August 27th, 2008
33 comments

He continued to gaze at the menu through the glass doors in front of the restaurant. It was Christmas Eve. To everyone’s delight it was snowing, talk about a white christmas. In spite of the bitter cold wind that blew across, the world around him was in high spirits and, the mood, so very festive.  However, for him the festivities and the happy voices seemed far away. He tightened the grip on his threadbare coat further, as if that would provide some blessed warmth to his shivering body. With freezing hands which were stuffed deep inside his trouser pockets and teeth chattering he continued to gaze through the menu. It was the right hand column on the menu that was the focus of his interest. The column which listed the prices. He found what he was looking for, a vegetarian thali for £14.99. A pang of regret seeped in. He very well knew that if he indulged in the thali he would have to forgo his fortnightly underground tube pass. This in turn meant that he would have to travel by bus around London in the harsh weather, in his search for jobs in hospitals. He continued the neverending contemplation. Since, almost a year now he had not had a complete meal, the way he loved it with plain rice, sambar, curries, pickles, yoghurts, chapatis, papads and occasionally sweet.

He was 27 when he had left the shores of India for London in his search for a job. He had completed his medical studies 4 years ago, but with no success in garnering a PG seat. After several stints and endless shifts, at various hospitals where he worked in the junior most positions, for a mere pittance that was called a salary, he realized the futility of his dreams.

For him to clear the debts that his father, a modest clerk in the railways, had incurred for putting him through medical school, and also to marry off his two sisters, he knew, would take him years or maybe forever. It was then that his father, who upon reading an article in the newspaper, suggested that he try his luck in the UK. His father, allayed his gnawing fears of the exam fees, the expenses of living abroad, the mounting debt that would be incurred. His father reasoned saying that once he got a foothold in the National Health Service they all could breathe easy. His father’s unwavering faith made him feel better and brought out an excitement within him that a bright future was waiting to be grasped in a short time.

He remembered, that it was exactly a year ago that he had trudged through the Piccadilly and Eastern lines, dragging his oversized suitcases to make his way to the East End. The only place that offered very cheap accommodation for the likes of him. He lived in a hell hole of a house crammed alongside 12 other sorry souls like himself, who had no money to spare and lived in the worst conditions. The owners of the tenements had learnt the art of exploitation. In the dead of winter the heating would be turned off automatically so that the owners would save money.The tenants could do nothing but battle the cold and live on. Money was a commodity that was never there, he skipped meals, walked instead of taking the transportation to save whatever he could. Weekends would find him at the Gurudwara for the traditional “langar”.

He cleared his exams within three weeks of arrival and his big push started - looking for a job.

Every hospital, he applied to, politely turned him down when he applied for apprenticeship. Some hospitals were willing to give him an apprentice job if he parted with 45 pounds a month. The amount that he could hardly fathom paying. He resigned himself to applying endlessly for observerships. On one such visit to a hospital he knocked the door of the personnel without an appointment. As he began to inform the overweight bespectacled lady the reason for his presence she gave him an unfriendly stare. His presence was unwanted, the lady had a pile of workload already of the doctors who worked there. She had no time for someone like him who was more of a hindrance than help. She cut him short saying there were no openings and he would be informed by post if a situation arose. She was not interested in his hardships. He shrugged with a sigh. A man who had the right education to heal people but no one was willing to let him try the touch.
 
His savings continued to dwindle and he couldn’t see the light at the end of the tunnel. A few friends lent him some money but that meant more debt. He decided he could no longer continue his existence based on the hope of landing a job one fine day. He had to do something soon. Five months had passed since he set his foot on this land. He decided to try his luck in other jobs,something that was illegal according to the immigration laws. Deeply saddened but without much choice he went through the bylanes of East Ham searching for some opening in a backend job which he could obtain without much explanation.
 
The backend labour jobs were plenty especially for someone who was willing to take peanuts as salary. Thus, he started working in a Sri Lankan grocery shop performing various chores..loading the cartons, chopping the meat, transporting vegetables to households. After working through the day he would fill umpteen number of applications in the night. Each job vacancy asked for 10 copies of the multiple pages of the form and his CV which meant more hole in his pocket for photocopying, postage, paper etc. Sure, there were vacancies but for one job atleast a hundred applied. The odds were high.
 
It was not about what he knew, it was about who he knew. And he knew noone.
 
Finally, after working for a couple of months he saved up enough for an apprentice work in a hospital for a month. He finished it with some success. His bosses said times were changing and the future was bleak for Indian doctors. It would be best if he went back to his motherland. This was something that he agreed to too, but going back with no savings would have not made things any easier for him. So, he continued his search and stayed. There was no dearth for interviews but there was certainly a shortage of posts.
 
His thoughts came back to the present wondering what he should do next. Suddenly, a deep urge went through his body and mind. It was no more about the food. It was about the constant calculations of every step that he took. It was the bind that he wanted to break away from albeit for only till the meal lasted. Unflinching, he stepped into the restaurant.
 
He sat down to eat. He thought, he wasn’t just eating the food. He was eating up his own money, notes that were going to help him sustain for a few more days. He couldn’t care, he wanted to free himself from the constant burden and if food was going to be the medium, so be it. It turned out to be the meal of a lifetime. He paid the cheque and walked out piercing through the harsh wind with a new vigour.
 
 
There was nothing ahead to look forward to but the past hour was his moment of pleasure.
 
He reached home after a 25 minute brisk walk, as he turned the latch to the door and stepped in, the harsh cold and darkness inside the house further awakened him to the reality. With a sigh he began sieving through the various bills that he had to pay.
Wondering how much the mobile bill had come he opened the white envelope,
 
“Dear Dr, We are pleased to offer you the post of a Senior House officer in St Mary’s Hospital, London. Could you please call on the above number to confirm your acceptance for the same within the next 48 hours. Medical Personnel.”
 
He sat down, clutching the letter in his hand. No words, no thoughts, no tears, no smiles. It was a moment of relief.
 
For Vidyasagar, Christmas had finally arrived.

Monalisa Angry !!

August 6th, 2008
32 comments

Carpathian Bashi-bazouk!
Dictatorial duck billed diplodocus!
Miserable blundering barbecued blister . . .
Anamorphic aardvark!
Dunder-headed Ethelred!
Addle-pated lump of anthracite!
Nitwitted ninepin!
Billions of bilious blue blistering barnacles!
Ten Thousand Thundering Typhoons!
 
Ahem….Lassies and lassas…no no, Captain Haddock has not taken over my soul. He is still very much a companion to Tintin.
Monalisa is very very angry and instead of going for the regular expletives that all my brethren use, I decided to go back in time and remember Capt Haddock.. I am so in rage since last two days. What the bloody balderdash bifocal bulimic bumble!
 
Some..” miserable molecule of mildew!” has erased 10 comments from the blog which was my first attempt at humour.
Gone with the wind..ppoooooooofffffff and I am so upset.
 
 
Its some one called “Arrey”!!
Who gives a name like “Arrey” to thier child. This person’s gender is unknown. Although, I would like to keep cursing by using the Masculine gender, I think it unfair. It could very well be a female.
Moreover, all my best pals are men.
This “arrey” bugger has done it to Ambrosia too.
Isnt this ” arrey” sad!. Was ” arrey” upset that I made a grand attempt at humour and “arrey” cannot.
 
How pathetic! This Lily-livered bandicoot has not written any comment, all it says is “array said……”.
Wonder who all this ” Nincompoop! ” is going to get too.
Wonder whether this “fancydress freebooter” is someone who dislikes humour…( Ahem…Ant r, Frozy, Moe, Sunshine, Rajesh watch out…!!)
 
The team rediffiland is equally a “Nest of rattlesnakes”. A mail sent to them regarding damage control has come back as “undeliverable”
 
On a serious note, I cherish all the comments that I receive.
 
I am so annoyed…but I wonder what the hell can I do apart from fret.
 
I should just say “let it be” like Beatles or Moe’s Uncle and write another blog…mmm?
 
 

 

Stopping by woods on a snowy evening..

August 4th, 2008
26 comments

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village, though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.


My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there’s some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep


***************************************************


This poem by Robert Frost is one of my favourites. I have been found guilty of reciting this one many times behind closed doors of my room, standing in front of the mirror. Although I grew up in city my only solace was every summer I would end up in my nanu’s village…It never snows in south India…but the early morning walk through the woods….sitting on the steps of the nearest pond……the sun rising…the chirping of the birds…the first drops of dew on the grass….the tranquility was my equivalent to the snowy woods….Time and again I have gone into a trance…Thought Ill share this with you all….One more of my all time favorites will be coming up soon too…