I drove to my village

First I smile, :) and now I begin. This day began just like any other. Didn't have anything to do. Yes, its been some time now. I am this state of not doing anything. This serious condition that I have afflicted myself with, will continues till the next week. All of a sudden, my mom wanted to accompany my dad and mama to console a disconsolate relative whose old man will be bidding adieu to everyone in a few days. And this is how I came into the picture. Mama had a stiff neck after he drove to Belgaum a day before. So, all fingers pointed at Preeti. I am still a learner's license driver. Ever since I completed my driving lessons, Mama has been pestering me to take up a family driver's job. Well, I didn't really mind, since my day was filled with VOID. As I took the wheel I did not know how satisfying the journey it would turn to be. The reasons are: 1) This was the first time I was driving the car to my village which is situated at a distance of 30 km 2) I was driving with my parents comfortable at the rear. :) I had complete control of the engine. Till my last drive to Dharwad, my dad was always looking over my shoulder for an oncoming gaadi, speed breakers, pedestrians, etc etc. Today was different. He let me take the wheel for myself. More than my mom who was tensed. She had a completely different disposition today. She, dad and mama were engrossed with picking up news about in the family. The drive till my village was uneventful until I entered the main road of my village. It had predominantly ages old mud houses lining the thoroughfares.

My village is just like any other that spot India. Not very developed, not very backward either. But it is rare to see a gal driving. And this is the reason which I had missed when I witnessed strange stares from one and all. The stares bore the bonnet of the car and pricked me. My dad was all smiles. So was my mama. Being blissfully aware of all this, I was trying to veer the car between the sauntering folks, bored cattle and chatty women. My dad had strictly warned not to horn. Why? Its his village. He was brought up here. He considered it a blasphemy to be honking. Instead, I was asked to wait and let people take their time to move across. As I pulled over at the entrance of our house, the house that has seen at least 5 generations, my dad's brother was maha happy. He said, 'finally women in my family are driving'.

After a hiatus.

Yes, Its been long that I have put my words on paper. I typed tens of them. Only to send them to an incinerator. My last blog was ages ago. Life has seen many vicissitudes vacillating between intelligent decisions and utterly foolish ones. No regrets for anything. That was someone Else's line. Not mine. I do regret. But shut up at the futility of it. Its just not fructuous.

I quit my job and shed the garb of it all. How did it feel? Enervating. How does it feel now? Monotonous. Not that the goal post has changed its position. It is only looking for a different me to enter it. A changed me. Difficult for the one who loathes change. The goal post is taking on a new color each time I look at it. A chameleon act. And me? I am the same. Adjusting to the ever changing goals.

Well, I hope u find this reading very obscure. Because, this exactly is my intention. I do not have intention of getting my soul naked to the world. The 4th window of the Johari does have many entries in it. I am hitting the keyboard to avoid my mind getting rusted. I do not want to lose my minor belletristic skill, or whatever I possess of it.

A couple of my friends have been compelling me to write a novel. Well, I loved the compliment. What will the name of my novel be? I have thought of it already, "Confessions to my daughter". Did you say why this name? All the mistakes that I have committed in my life Will be thrown open to comment first to my daughter. Maybe this is the reason that I have chosen this title. And I have started it. Only time will end it. The main protagonists in it have no names. Then how Will I address them? Time will tell.

Most of the people I meet on orkut as me the same question over and over again. 'I heard you quit TCS?, why? What you doing not?'. Nothing at all. Am only licking my wounds. :) No, a doing nothing at all. For now. For some more time, I'll do nothing at all. And then? I havent arrived at a decision on this. Some unseen faces are at work here. It is very unsettling to find that some futures are decided by people you've have not yet met. Well, I don't want to fight against the tide here. Let me play along.

Nothing else to pen for now. I only wanted to check if my verve for writing hasn't been buried with my past and if words come as easily to me as they did earlier. They do.

Preeti on Arindam Chaudry supporting the case of Taslima Nasreen

I heard you well Mr. Chaudhry. You are here supporting Miss T’s case. She has no country and is under house arrest. I really feel sorry for her. I could never stay like that irrespective of the magnitude of the sin I committed. I feel sorry for the Muslim fundamentalists who wanted her to be deported to Mars. I even understood by your directed speech that it could be a knee jerk or a mediated measure to salvage the Muslim votebank after the Nandigram issue. Well, I don’t blame the politicians here. It’s their job to bank on any uneasy situation that an individual creates for herself. They are only doing their job. Forget about them. What is your definition of creative freedom? Is it some arth derived from a Yankee institution or a home-brewed phrase of your IIPM? Well, what ever it is… Let me get across my point of view.

I am not a Muslim. I have not read her book. I was not even in India when this entire drama unfolded on the newspapers and my 21-inch Thomson color television. I did not even have the urge to get up and type “Taslima and West Bengal” in Google, to educate myself on the issue. You can call me a political-illiterate, by all means. You may call me heartless not to feel of Miss T. Yes, my heart works on a pacemaker. Even now, when the TV shows any news on her, I change the channel, consciously. I do the same for Mr. Raj and Mr. Laloo. Of course you know whom I am referring to. These are famous personalities of this year. Mr. Raj stirred up violence in Maharasthra and Mr. Laloo in Karnataka?

India being a secular country does not have any state religion. But a state derives its power from the people. Without it, a state is nothing. Hope you agree to this. Nevertheless, I continue.

People worship a particular deity. Each God belongs to only one religion. We don’t have a multi-religious almighty as yet! Politicians do a balancing act by tying a rope to the emotions of the hoi polloi and themselves. Well, you know how effervescent emotions are. Now these emotions are tied to God and His respective religion. So, when an intelligent writer exercises his creative freedom by writing something like Miss T or Mr. Rushdie, he pulls the fine strings between a persons emotions and the part of the brain that controls violent activities. Our politicians sight this slight movement and all hell breaks loose. Which eventually leads to the loss of public property. Whose money is this? My money. Your money.

Let me dwell a paragraph or 2 on Mr. Raj and Mr. Laloo. Mr Raj must compensate all the monetary loss from to the destruction to public property. Why?? He pulled the string. Which string? Remember the one connecting a persons emotions and the part of the brain that unleashes the monster within! And Mr. Laloo, who, I heard made Indian railways a success story, said ‘dirty people’. Did you ask, “To whom?” Well, I don’t know. It was said in Karnataka. He couldn’t be referring to the Maharastrians or the North Indians or the Bengalis. This also led to Kannadigas vandalizing the railway offices and the like. Again, paisa gaya.

So, what is the moral of the story? Liberty be it, speech (Laloo or Raj, oops I missed the Mr. for both) or literary (Miss T) or cinema (Mr. Shahrukh and smoking) is not absolute. There are millions of topics to chose from, when you write a novel. There are tens of ways to phrase a particular question in (I am referring to the question which was deleted from the Miss T’s book). If Mr. Railway minister said, “dirty people”, he should have atleast mentioned the object. Jesus! People must have even fought debating about the object here. If Mr. Raj, thinks that North Indians are creating a job scarcity or violent atmosphere, there are a many ways to stabilize the violent volatility.

Just like movies instigate violence by their content, books do too. On screen, Mr. Shahrukh looks good smoking, then it is my duty to tell my son that my son needs to have a look at Shahrukh’s liver too. I am conscious enough to segregate right from wrong, frills from value. Not everyone is. When I read the “deleted and controversial line” from Miss T’s book, I may not buy the line. I know what to absorb from the book. Not many know it. When Mr. Raj said what he did, I wont ask my Maharashtrian son to beat up my newspaperwalla. I am aware of the constitutional rights in Part III of our constitution. Well, I love my Punjabi neighbor. So, people are not receptive enough to appreciate any kind of creative freedom that takes a tangential route.

So for heaven’s sake I beseech you, the league of “creative” actors, politicians and writers, to hold on to your creativity and out of the box ideas. I do not want such nondescript controversies to plague this country. Let us talk about growth and betterment and the contructive masala alike. No not Jodha Akbar! I am not sure if Jodha is indeed Akbar’s wife. I should make my son repeat the disclaimer of this movie a million times.