Propoganda Reporting

The Commonwealth Games are on. India is performing in full-swing, both in the games and the organizing of the same. Indians across the globe are proud, or maybe not.

Going through some old newspapers, looking for an article, I came across another article (that should tell you about my newspaper reading habits)!. This was in 'India on Sunday' which is published by the Sunday Guardian, simultaneously from Delhi and London. The article was titled 'CWG proves that we are still in awe of English tradition.'

To give a brief, the article was about the opening ceremony of the Commonwealth Games. But the writer, Akhilesh Mithal took this opportunity to voice his grievances against the British and the Raj.

To begin with, I failed to understand the relation of the headline to the body of the article. The article began with the mention of the XIX Commonwealth Games. But that is exactly where the connection ends. The rest of the article was a replay of the British Raj. As an Indian, I am not unaware of the Raj and the atrocities faced by my country men at the hand of the British. Neither am I ignorant of the still existent racism. And yet while reading the article I could not help but notice that the writer, Akhilesh Mithal sounded like the real racist. He took the opportunity of CWG and used it to express his own deep-seated, long suppressed grievances against the British.

The Raj ended in 1947. And the most painful result of this was the partition. Nevertheless, it has been 63 years since that day and India has come a long way. Mr. Mithal spoke of the 'awe' of the English tradition but forgot that the language that he expressed himself in was a gift of the same tradition. He attacked the system of education based on Macaulay's infamous Minute. But conveniently forgot that he too was educated in that same system which gave him the power and vocabulary to make this criticism. As it seemed from the article that Mr. Mithal is against the 'awe', he should probably consider joining a Hindi newspaper and express his grievances in the national language.

It was also a little difficult for me to comprehend the need to enlist all the atrocities faced by India as a British colony in reference to the CWG. I saw the opening of the games and nothing there was 'British' except, of course, Prince Charles and Princess Camilla. From the Gurukul Parampara to the various Indian dance forms, from yoga to the train and the depiction of Indian life, everything was rooted in India. If Mr. Mithal had a problem with the western technology used to depict the transformation of the country then I shall be forced to assume that he leads his life without the help of any western technologies.

Mr. Mithal seems to have a problem in appreciating anything good because he chooses to enumerate the negatives and not acknowledge the positives. I am an aware Indian, not blind to my culture or its history. Nor do I fall in the category for whom everything western is revered. Thus, it is important to acknowledge and accept the good and sieve out the bad. A contradiction of this nature does not suit a journalist, especially when he chooses to write for a paper that is simultaneously published in Delhi and 'London'.

The presence of this article in the newspaper was even more shocking because of the name of the editor: M.J. Akbar. Anyone who has ever followed his work or read his book would understand that here is a man who understands the Raj and its aftermath better than most of us. Thus, it was disheartening to see an article of this biased nature published under his leadership.

I would definitely like to congratulate the team of 'India on Sunday' on successfully bringing India to its people sitting miles away. But articles like these make me think that it is unfair to solely blame parties like RSS and Shiv Sena as being orthodox because the so-called progressive, modern, educated Indian is not very far behind.

Losing Fear

After every fight you wait for that phone to buzz. After every argument you wait for that sad emoticon to pop-up and someone to say that they are missing you. After every disagreement you fight your ego to dial that number, face the slash and apologize so that every thing can go back to 'normal'. After every low you wait for that one warm hug. To every place that you go a memory awaits and in every new memory you desire their presence.

The fear of losing a loved one keeps you going back in spite of the distance, the wait, the unbearable pain, the endless tears (although the tissue box is over) and long sleepless nights. The laughs, the jokes, the giggles are much more important than all those stupid misunderstandings. The presence of someone dear; someone to love is greater than your ego. But how long can you hold on to someone. Once the pain subsides and the tears stop and you wake up from a long slumber, the fear is gone, and all that is left is a void and the strength to face yourself.

A friend once asked me if we could keep love forever. I did not have an answer (surprise, surprise! yes, there are times when I don't have answers, I am at a loss of words!). I still don't have an answer to that question. I still don't know if we can keep love forever. But I know that we can keep memories forever.

Losing a loved one is a lesson in living in solitude. And every memory of theirs guides you in the right direction and protects you forever.

To have one person in your life who loves you selflessly is luck. To have more than one is a miracle. And I believe in miracles.

This is for every one in my life who stood by me when walking away was the most sensible option; for every one who saw me when I was invisible :)

The Best Days of My Life

When you first start college, you feel adult. You have suddenly stepped into this world of grown ups. You are no longer in school; no need to wear uniforms and attend classes by the time table. New set of friends and new set of habits! The pocket money goes up. You can stay out late. The curfew time has been extended because you reasoned with your father that you are no longer a two year old and can take care of yourself. Although your father was not completely convinced; your mother interfered and now you can go to a party and pretend that you’re a rick bloke. You’re in college. You ‘deserve’ your first bike. You tell your dad that it’ll ease down the time of travel and give you more time to study. But he knows better! Don’t forget that he was once your age. You ‘need’ the bike to show off to your friends and impress girls. If only you knew that girls could see right through you.

But girls are not to be outdone. They too have their share of ‘needs’ in college. New clothes, expensive shoes and accessories and the latest chic mobile is a must. Cosmetics do not require a mention because they are as necessary as breathing and thus are taken for granted. It is of utmost importance that your wardrobe has nearly 30 new dresses because you don’t want to be caught dead in the same dress that you wore to your

fresher’s welcome party. They make sure that they find out which student stays closest and farthest to their house. Sociable you’d say! Of course! These details come in handy. Each category has its own value. The ones who stay closest are of utmost importance when you need exam notes because you were too busy admiring the latest colours of the season and forgot to make notes. The ones who stay the farthest are indispensable when you need to go out on a date or a late night party but pretend that you are attending

a study group for a very important assignment that is due the next morning.

This does sound like a generalization. You can always argue that there exist those studious, sincere few who do not lie to their parents and deserve a mention. Look closely, they have been mentioned. These are the students to whom the boys show off and the girls use as back ups.

There is a mystery that is an essential part of college life and is as difficult to answer as the chicken and egg question. You’d expect the outgoing show offs to make a bad show at the exams and the sincere geeks to outshine every other soul on earth. Think again! The party goers plan their next party after the results because they are amongst the toppers whereas the regular geek is still struggling to figure out where he can find the

reassessment forms.

Nobody said life would be fair then why did you assume!

Besides the party animal and the geek, there is a third category of students, popularly known as the rebels. And that is exactly what they come to college for. As soon as they step inside the college gates, they start believing that they can lead and change the world. They have a problem with everything from the classroom chairs to the canteen food. They oppose every single soul on premise and have an opinion about every subject under the sun. They pick fights with the show-offs, bully the geeks and lech at girls but pretend that they care two hoots. These are the students who believe they are the next generation of leaders and spend most of their time drinking tea and discussing politics (more like picking problems with the entire system).

You’d think that they probably feel that the western system is better and want a similar change in their society. But you’re wrong. They hate the western system too because it is ‘capitalist’. They strongly believe that the west is having a negative influence on the society and everything western should be banned.

So you’d ask that what do they want and whom do they follow. What is this big change that they keep talking about and want to bring about in the society? The answer is that they don’t know the answer. They only like talking a lot and sounding intellectual. They live in a glorified past and an even more glorified vision of the future based on books and the words of great men. But the present is not for them. They would not take a step and make the change but would endlessly talk about ‘the need to bring about the change’.

All these and more of these make college memories come alive when years later you return to a reunion party to compare notes. The show offs have become business men, the chics have married those rich business men and are the face of Page 3, the geeks are employed by these business men while they dream of overtaking their empire and their wife and the rebels have become successful politicians.

You’d probably ask where are those who do not fall in any of these brackets and make their own paths. Who were they in college? How do you identify them? They were the ones who attended classes, went to parties and walked the corridors observing each one of you. So don’t be surprised when you see someone on screen or read a character in a book and say, ‘Hey! I can relate to that character. That’s just me!’ Chances are that you know the artist.

Disclaimer: This is purely a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any person living or dead is purely co-incidental.

How Racist Are You?

Vihan: Let’s go to Covent Garden. They have the best brownies in the world!


Frida: No Vihan, you’re the best brownie in the world.

Frida was interrupted and chastised for that comment by Betty. Although Vihan, and the other students, realized that Frida meant it only as a joke, Betty took it seriously.

But how could Frida come up with a comment like that, even as a joke? Because we have been pre-conditioned to certain set ideas and norms about people in general; the greatest divide being that between the white world and the rest of the world.

America has been the biggest melting pot of cultures over centuries. But I have not walked the streets of America. Nonetheless, I have walked down the British roads and travelled on the tube enough to notice subtle racial attitudes that the country continues to propagate.

Every non-white is given a second glance. One could argue that it is a general glance of curiosity. But then why doesn’t a white man or woman receive that glance?

British legal documents have a clear divide based on your ethnic origin – you are either White (British/Irish/Other) or you are Mixed (White & Black Caribbean/White & Black African/White & Asian/Other) or you could be an Asian/Asian British (Indian/Pakistani/Bangladeshi/Other) or a Black/Black British (Caribbean/African/Other) or Chinese/Other Ethnic Group (Chinese/Other). Does any of this make any sense?

For documentation purpose I am ready to understand the information of whether you are a British citizen or not. But I fail to understand the need for the other bifurcations. If I am a British citizen then what difference does it make whether I am an Asian or a Mixed or a Black? How would that affect my work and talent?

The Whites alone can’t be blamed as being racists. It has trickled and seeped into every corner of the world. And if you deny then let’s answer a few questions:

1. When was the last time you looked at a man with full grown beard and did not move a step away?

2. When was the last time you realized that you were next to a Muslim and you did not scan him and his luggage for anything suspicious?

3. When was the last time you looked at a leather jacket-wearing black boy and did not stare at him, noticing his every move with suspicion?

4. When was the last time you looked at a white woman and did not wish that you had her skin tone?

Racism may not be as blatant as it used to be but that does not mean that it does not exist. It exists in our minds each and every single day as we step out of our house. We choose to live in denial because we are not at the receiving end. But denial is not easy for those who did not choose their family or their skin colour or their ethnicity, yet have to pay a price.

I should be thankful to my aunt for giving me an Arabic name although I was born into a Hindu family. I am thankful not only because it taught me that human bonds are bigger than ethnic backgrounds but also because time and again it helped me see the latent racism that exists in our society. I can recall the times I was given a suspicious look or a second glance because of my name. I was forced to reveal that I am a Hindu to make them calm down. At that age, I was, for some unexplainable reason, proud of being a Hindu and wanted to
change my name to a traditional Bengali name, thanks to all those people who kept asking me why I did not have a traditional Bengali name. Today, I am proud of who I am, which is beyond the ethnicity that I was born into and the name that was given at birth. I am not the perfect human being but I am proud that I have been able to take a step forward and identify my mistake.

I cannot claim that I am not racist. I too am guilty of racial behaviour and thoughts. I can recall being suspicious of a Muslim, not because he is Muslim but because he is a Pakistani because “all terrorists are Pakistanis”. What I forgot in that moment was the fact that “all Pakistanis are not terrorists”. What I forgot was that terrorism exists within my country too and none of them are Muslims. What I forgot was that a lot of other countries across the globe have terrorism and the perpetrators are not Muslims. Yet, I am weary of a Pakistani but not an Italian, as if the Mafia doesn’t exist!

We are pre-conditioned and these conditionings work deeper than all our education. Would the world be any different for me if I was born a white girl or in Pakistan? May be it would in some respects but would that change the very basis of human existence – all men were created equal in the eyes of God, or were they?

http://topdocumentaryfilms.com/how-racist-are-you/
http://www.nfb.ca/film/jaded

Welcome

I talk a lot, I write even more than I talk, then why the need for a blog...is it because its the latest fad? Maybe! It is because my friends have blogs so I should have one too? Naaaahhhh! Then why? Maybe because its cool to see your name in a weblink. Well, whatever the reason, here it is.

The only rule for this blog is 'agree to disagree.' What I post here is my point of view. No one is bound to blindly follow. Similarly, any comments would be the individuals' own point of view. But, P-L-E-A-S-E no cat fights (or dog fights, for that matter)!

Happy typing :)