Thursday, 18 June 2015

Rammed


I used to be so pretty, I was his pride, his friend's envy,

I remember the day he came to see me;

He couldn't take his eyes off me,

He let out a low whistle and walked towards  me, a spring in his step, a shine in his eyes

I used to be so pretty, I was his pride, his friends' envy,

He used to look at me so admiringly every morning as he softly grazed his fingers on me,

I obeyed all his commands dutifully, never did I act on  my own accord.

Why would he do this to me then?

 I am all beaten up and burnt. I used to be so pretty, I was his pride, his friends' envy


That fateful night, as he came near me  I could smell the alcohol and smoke on his Armani.

He touched me with his shaky hands, I lay there paralyzed.

He even swore at me in his polished accent,

I was punched and scratched at with the Rolexxed hand and the Guccied kicks were thrown in for added effect. I used to be so pretty, I was his pride, but not that night


He was unstoppable laughing boisterously he handled me rough

 I could see my end nearing, my vision soon blurred, all of me was giving away.

Just about to lose consciousness all I could focus on was the two year old, innocent as he was why was he dragged into this?

My master kicked me hard but I was beyond it all.

It was all over with a scream and crash.

I used to be so pretty, I was his pride, his friends' envy....

- an account of that fateful night by the Rammed up SUV of a drunk affluent man


Friday, 12 June 2015

THOU SHALT COOK

THOU SHALT COOK
As me and my mom were sitting across the table, a dozen or so lists strewn in between us; the enormity of the situation was dawning on her- it was less than a month to go for my wedding! There I was mud pack on my face, painting my nails, dreaming of my island honeymoon when she gives me a nice kick on my shin bringing me back on Planet Earth. In the loud and urgent tone characteristic of an Indian mom she says; “I won’t even ask you what you are planning to feed your husband but won’t you yourself be hungry? What the heck are you planning to eat for the rest of your lives?” “Maggi” pat came my reply! Well this was a year ago when maggi was still the staple food of half the nation, what hostelites swore by and what summed up the culinary skills of most girls of my generation. But much before the government realized that maggi could actually be used to make weapons most Indian moms were always up against arms of our dear maggi. So obviously there came another kick across the table as I answered maggi. “Are u crazy?” she said, listing all the ill effects of our pyaare noodles. But I was and am blessed with the modern woman’s kavachkundala aka ‘shamelessness’. I just said, “Mamma relax Pune is known for its restaurants and street food and overall khavayyagiri, I am sure it can fill two more hungry mouths.”
I remembered this conversation exactly two months after my wedding as me and my better half stood in our kitchen staring at the muddy mess of atta and water we had created. Yes we loved Pune’s cuisine and like any newly married couple we were sailing on rainbows and all in all acting like pixie dust is shed on us 24*7 but two months of outside food, the taste, the calories and two episodes of gastroenteritis later the pixies and rainbows vanished. Our dreams were filled with ‘ghar ka khana’. Also as the house got filled with furniture and kitchen accessories and a dozen or so completely useless décor items, one fine day Mr. Buy Whatever You Want glanced at the bank balance and well we finally realized for our tummies, tongues and pockets sake we had to somehow conjure up ‘ghar ka khana’.
Thus started the phone calls to the respective mothers, knife in one hand, kaddu in the other, phone tucked between neck and shoulder following step wise instructions. Oh it was a mess and what a lovely mess, bumping onto each other in the kitchen, maneuvering around, Mr. Better Half trying to adhere to the wedding vows so creating more mess in the quest of been helpful. Then off course the culture clashes with my 96k Maratha mom advising garam masala and lal tikhat in everything and my Chittapavan Kokanastha Brahmin MIL advising goda masala and jaggery in everything. The first few days after trying to cook with these opposing phone instructions, we took a meeting and a resolution was passed to shut off both moms and pray to the one and only, everyone’s mother and father, brother and sister, friend and mentor, the all pervading, the omnipotent ‘Google Devta’. So websites were bookmarked, the laptop found a place of pride in the kitchen and was soon adorned with haldi and mirch and some unidentified substances. So began the ‘Google-It-Up’ phase of cooking after the ‘Phone-A-Mom’ phase of cooking. There were quite a few edible dishes, and as long as our pockets and intestines were not emptied, Mr. Better Half gladly gulped down everything.
A few months passed and the recipes were nailed good enough to even do the daring feat of calling the sasural ka family over. Some criticisms (MILs won’t survive without that) and loads of compliments later, came the ‘You Bettcha I Can Cook My Ass Off- Lets Experiment’ phase of cooking. So were bought all the fancy items off the supermarket shelf the exotic sauces, the dips and herbs, pasta packs and odd looking veggies; poor old white colored cauliflower and green cabbage were shunned for the exotic green broccoli and purple cabbage. Odd named cheese were purchased, wine was added to food (cos come on that’s what they do on Masterchef Australia and the love of my life Georgie gorges it up, doesn’t he?) chilli was put in desserts, masala and cheese combined in main courses, feeling like a masterchef the rich food was devoured. But all good things must end and so did this phase with the weighing scale creaking under our weight, the skirts refusing to be zipped up and the doctors sounding the cholesterol bells!
Hence came the ‘We Are On A Diet’ phase of cooking. Once again the supermarket was raided but this time the inner sections picking up oats, muesli, olive oil, mushrooms, tofu, oats biscuits, oats noodles, oats chivda, oats this and oats that basically we became Mr. and Mrs. Oats. And as expected within a month we couldn’t stand the sight of oats! Hence we went back to phase one calling the moms phase and so it continues our food journey now a mixture of all its first year phases, the occasional dining out, the phone recipes, the Google recipes, the experimental recipes, and the healthy ones; once in a while when the weighing scale creaks again.

-          BY SNEHA KARLE 

BILLBOARDWALLAHS

BILLBOARDWALLAHS
As the lovely evening breeze swept over me with the faint yet ethereal smell of the soil (which now we know has a fancy name – ‘PETRICHOR’) I turned my gaze upwards to look at the skies but lo- behold there was no blue or black with hints of pink and orange no nothing. My gaze upwards but caught a huge cut out of a 16 something wearing a bright red shirt on fluorescent yellow pants; off course torn in streaks on both thighs and the omnipresent black glares with diamonds on the sides.
To call this cutout huge would be an understatement it was a.k.a ‘Rajnikanth’s cutout outside a Bangalore theatre’ kinda huge. As I was just about to wonder aisa isna kya ukhada hai, the kind billboardwallahs had an elaborate explanation too written in a fancy font in crude Marathi (I think the rains were actually the Peshwas crying after reading such version of Marathi). So the explanation was how our chikna cutout had cleared his tenth boards in flying colors getting a humongous score of hold your breath- 45%! The explanation was complete with his entire mark sheet and about four dozen names of people congratulating him. I was mesmerized and all I could do was clap for his feat in wonder.
As I shifted my gaze still hopeful in search of blue with hints of pink, orange and black lo-behold there it was another billboard, no cutout though (disheartening). This one had a five year old’s picture on it with off course the torn jeans, the fluorescent colors, the cool jacket and the diamond studded glares. As I wondered if he was celebrated as some child genius the kind billboardwallah people had an elaborate explanation for us lesser mortals. It was the little ones fifth birthday; he had managed to grow up and complete a full five years! Oh my, if only the stick thin skeleton babies been held by their skeleton mothers residing beneath that billboard could also complete five years! It was so touching of our billboardwallahs to think of giving them inspiration.
 In my now disheartening quest of searching for a piece of sky, I realized I was standing in a chowk with at least eight such billboards (I won’t say anything regarding the ones having actual images of local leaders and politicians which wished them election victories and birthdays and’ good potty today’ days; no way am I saying anything on that as my core belief is Politicians = God no no Politician> God).
So coming back to our celebrated billboard heroes, the five year old and his birthday, the sixteen year old with his amazing score, the twenty-one year old announcing he is all set to marry now (if you don’t believe me do visit PCMC ,especially Bhosri). Looking at all of them I didn’t feel any anger that they have taken up my view of the sky, all I felt is pity for these young boys. Won’t their friends make fun of them, wouldn’t it be embarrassing walking down the street and looking at huge cutouts of yourself, how would they ever get girlfriends, how could their parents make them suffer through these billboards!
But then off course they are the prodigal sons who will run the family businesses (no reference to patriarchal politics, nor to boot-legging, nor to dance bars or deshi daru addas no no absolutely not) and then off course why would they need girlfriends, when girls would be specifically bred and bought up to be married to them.  You know the pretty, really old 16 year ones the lucky ones who only have to cook for them and wash their dirty underwear and you know just open their legs and blouses several times a day because stupid things like marital rape are not worth making laws on, come on!  These girls just have to breed another five six children till the next generation of prodigal sons shoot out of them ready to take their coveted spots on the magnificent billboards. Oh this billboardwallahs they do so much for us sniff sniff…

-          BY SNEHA KARLE



WHAAAZZUUUPPP

WHAAAZZUUPP…
As I was playing with my niece the other day, she suddenly started making weird faces and getting finicky in general. That’s when my mom said, “Whatsapp alay ka paha?” (check if there is a new message on watsapp). I looked perplexed from my darling niece to my darling mom hoping she hasn’t lost her marbles. Later I was explained it was code lingo which meant her diaper needed to be checked!
It got me thinking as to when my mother who hated cell phones and cribbed about our ‘sms generation’ had so swiftly not only jumped onto the instant chat messaging bandwagon but also started using its lingo in everyday life. Such is the craze of the instant messaging app that rarely do we get to see anyone’s front face profile nowadays, it’s always heads down, thumbs working away to glory; be it on the roads, on the toilet seat, in the train’s door, while dining out with friends, at weddings, at funerals, you name it!
Once I got a watsapp message from my younger brother, “Ask mamma if dinner is ready?” He was lazing around in the room next to me! I replied with the punch icon followed by going in his room and delivering some actual punches (nothing can replace the gratification of actual physical violence!)
Instant messaging and chatting has quite obviously eased our lives, but what effect has it had on human relationships? Off course the biggest argument in its favor is; it is so much more easier to be in touch, its free (as of now), less time consuming than calling and one can reply at one’s ease. But is it really so? What actually happens is as soon as we message someone, we glare at the top of the screen, when was our friend last seen, is she online now, and then why is she not replying if she is online, is she ignoring me, was my message stupid, am I so needy, to the extremes of oh she is a bitch, how dare she not reply, what does she think of herself! Hell hath no fury as a woman’s message been not replied and if the person across is her poor husband well he can start counting his last days on earth. There are always some characters who would keep messaging till you don’t reply. Even if you are opened up for a lifesaving surgery you have to reply to this character! (a short break is taken by the author to check replies to her messages)
Then there are the ‘groups’, one has on an average 8 such groups- the school friends group, the graduation college friends group, the post graduation college friends group, subgroups of these groups to bitch about others in the main group, the family group, the sasural family group, about 4 to 5 cousins groups (+the subgroups for bitching), the office group, the office group without the boss, the office group without the person whom you currently want to bitch about, the separate only girls and only boys groups to share the below the belt messages, the building group (yes you guessed it right + subgroup for bitching), the train group, the supermarket group the list goes on…
In every group, there are two to three characters who think their day will be filled with venomous snakes and salivating wolves if they don’t wish ‘good morning’ first thing in the day. Then everyone else has to reply cos if you don’t it seems rude. So you have about 15 ‘good morning’ messages with sun smilies. The same pattern is repeated before sleeping cos if you don’t say ‘good night’ on each of your ten groups the sun may reappear again and there won’t be any night! Then there are those characters who have to forward every new message in the market, including the never ending ones, it is like their moral responsibility as the app’s user to do so or else they may be struck by lightning! (a short break is taken by the author to forward messages from one group to the others). Talking of been struck by lightning, there is an icon for that too and there are a set of characters in every group who will remind you of each and every icon the app has to offer as they are the mimes of the group- can’t use words, only expressions through their string of icons.
Then there are the silent readers who will read everything meticulously but have thumb paralysis so can never reply even if their life depends on it. Au contraire, are the enthusiasts who have to jump onto every bit of conversation even if it is not concerning them. Then there are the ‘bhaad mein gayi duniya’ characters who would have detailed personal chats on the group not bothering about the other pissed off souls who have to endure them. The most annoying are the hypocrites who would keep on saying “how ridiculous it is that people share everything and talk about their achievements and even love for each other” and then they go on to do the same thing!! This entire mix of crazy characters is made even more crazier by the new function by which one can check who has read one’s message, leading to complicated ego clashes as to how dare they just read and not say anything, and oh they did reply to that bitch’s message why not mine… (a short break is taken by the author to to bitch some on the subgroups)
And off course how can I forget the photo sharers. Camera crazy I wonder how their mobile cameras don’t call for a strike once in a while. They are compulsive sharers having to click and share everything from a mosquito bite to their last meal; and the monsoon skies and sunsets are like Viagra to their cameras!  Not far are the days when potty pics would be shared proudly. Don’t even get me started on the selfie crazed ones, (a short break is taken by the author to click ‘writing an article selfie’).  If you ought to click and share selfies the least you can do is stretch your arm sparing us from close-ups of your nose hair! If there was no silent function on these groups many of us would have been seen trying to strangle our cell phones to death.
This analysis won’t be complete without looking at the status and display pics, one shalt change them at least once in two week or one’s just plain lazy! Try keeping the same status and display pic for 3 months and you sure would get messages checking onto see if you are alive.
This is the crazy world we inhabit more than we inhabit the real world. A couple of more generations down the line, babies will be born with superpower thumbs and mute mouths- Wazzzuppp Evolution?!?!

-          BY SNEHA KARLE 

Thursday, 11 June 2015

Cheekh

Cheekh
रोशनी लाल, हरी, नीली, कई रंगोंकी रोशनी हैं यहाँ. 
क्यूँ सिर्फ अँधेरा नजर आता हैं फिर मुझे?
शोर गानोंका, घुंगरूओंका, तालियों और सिटिओंका कितना शोर हैं यहाँ.  
क्यूँ फिर सुनाई देती हैं मुझे सिर्फ चींख अपने भूखे बच्चेकी?
पैर नाच रहे हैं मेरे,  होटोंपर हैं हसी, पर मनमें सवाल हैं कई, कौन हूँ मैं? क्यूँ हूँ मैं यहाँ? क्या गलती हैं मेरी
अचानक से महसूस हुई सीर पर होनेवाली  नोटोंकी बरसात और सवाल वहीं थम गए.
इसीसे भरेगा मेरे बच्चेका पेट, इसीसे होगी उसकी चींखे शांत, इसीसे चलेगा मेरा चूल्हा, इसीसे बना रहेगा मेरा आत्मसम्मान.
क्यूँ डाले जा रहे हैं मुझपर इल्जाम इतने? नहीं बेच रही मैं अपना शरीर
नहीं तोड़ना मुझे किसी और औरत का घर, नहीं करना मुझे संसारोंका कत्ल.  
नजर आता हैं मुझे सिर्फ अँधेरा, सुनाई देती हैं मुझे सिर्फ अपने बच्चेकी चींख. 

-          By Sneha Karle

CAREER GYAAN

नमस्कार. प्रथम माझ्या सत्काराबद्दल मी मंडळाची आभारी आहे. मी biotechnology  ह्या विषयात BSc. केलाय आणि आता मी LL.B चा शेवटचा वर्षाला आहे. मी intellectual property rights  आणि महिलांचे घरगुती हिंसाचारापासून सौरक्षण ह्या कायद्या संबंधित काम देखील केलाय. आजचा ह्या सत्काराचा निमिताने मला तुमचा समोर माझे काही विचार मांडावे असे वाटत आहे. 

आता ह्याने सांगितल्या प्रमाणे दहावीला मी गुणावता यादीत आले, बारावीला पण मला ९० चा वर टक्के मिळाले. ह्या गोशितीना आता बरीच वर्ष झाली. पण खरा सांगायचा तर मागे वळून पहातान वयक्तिक रित्या मला ह्या गोष्टीचा कौतुक वाटत नाही किंबहुना तेह आता राहिलेला नाही. म्हणजेच शिक्षणाला महत्व देऊ नका, किंवा चांगले मार्क्स मिळवू नका असा माझा म्हणा नाही पण मुद्दा एवढाच कि केवळ शिक्षणाला महत्व देऊ नका. माझ्या पूर्ण बालपणाचा केंद्रबिंदू चांगले मार्क मिळवणं आणि पहिल्या तीन क्रमांकात येन हाच होता. थोडक्यात मी आणि आपल्यातेले बरेच तरुण ही विध्यार्ती नसून परीक्षार्थी होतो. 

जेव्हा शाळा सोडून college मध्ये प्रवेश केला तेव्हा जाणवला कि संपूर्ण व्याक्तीमातावाचा विकास म्हणजेच overall personality development  ही किती गरजेचा आहे. उदाहरणार्थ ही जे मी तुमचा समोर बोलतेय ही काही वर्षान पूर्वी माझा नकीच झाला असता. मला हा आत्मविश्वास यायला बरेच कष्ट घ्यायला लागले. म्हणूनच आज मी व्यक्तिमत्वाचा विकास आणि नाविन्यपूर्ण क्षेत्रात कॅरीर करणा ह्यावर बोलायचा ठरवला. 

आपला एकूण इतिहास पाहता काही दशकान पूर्वी आपल्या समाजात शिक्षणाचा काहीसा अभावच होता. त्यामुळे शिक्षणावर झोर  देणा महत्वाचा होता आणि आपल्या मागचा पिढीने ते केला सुधा. पण काळ बदलय आता शिक्षणाचा महत्व सांगायची गरज राहिलेलीच नाही. आपल्या गावातली मुलामुली हे व्यवस्थित शिक्षण घेत आहेत. आता मला असा वाटता कि आपण आपल्या समाजातील मुलांना अभ्यासेतर कार्यक्रम म्हणजेच extracurricular activities  साठी प्रोत्साहन द्यायला हवा. 

आपण बर्याचदा म्हणतो कि अमुक एका क्षेत्रात अमुक एका समाजाची मक्तेदारी आहे म्हणजे पहा नाट्य गयाना क्षेत्रात दामले, ओंक, कुलकर्णी का जास्त आहेत? सावंत, परब, कर्ले  का नाहीत? मला असा वाटता कि ह्याचा एक कारण असा असावा कि आपणच आपले हाथ कुठेतरी बांधून ठेवतो. मगाशी काकांचा भाषणात आला कि आपल्यात engineers आहेत, डॉक्टर्स आहेत, वकील आहेत, ही अभिमानास्पद आहे नकीच आहे, पण मग मनात असा विचार येतो कि डॉक्टर आहेत तर मग veterinary डॉक्टर्स का नाहीत? engineers आहेत तर मग environmental engineers का नाहीत? कोणीradio jockey, air hostess, nutritionist, forensic scientist, archaeologist का नाहीत? असे बरेच वेगवेगळे careers आहेत ज्या बदल आपण कधी विचारच करत नाही. ९० टक्के मिळाले कि scienceलाच घालायची धडपड कशाला? आवड असेल एखाद्यास तर भाषेत पदवी मिळवून शिक्षण क्षेत्रात काम करण्यास काय गैर आहे?

मला ह्या गोष्टीचा कौतुक वाटता कि माझा दादा माजी वैनी चित्रकार आहेत, आमचा सौरभ ने hospitality  मानागेमेंत केला आहे, माझे काका शेती व्यवसायात आहेत. आज शून्यातून एक बाग निर्माण करून काजूंचा व्यवसाय करत आहेत. ह्याच्याशी निगडीत एक मुद्दा असा येतो कि आपण बर्याचदा ऐकतो कि मराठी माणूस काही धंदा करू शकत नाही. पण आपल्याच गावात स्वताच व्यवसाय करणाऱ्यांची कितीतरी उदाहरण आहेत. आपण शहरातली मंडळी मात्र कुठेतरी ह्या मार्कांचा झाल्यात अडकून आपल्यातला entrepreneurial spirit म्हणजेच औद्योगिक भावना हरवून बसलोय असा मला वाटता. 

माझाहे आता वकिलीचा शिक्षण पूर्ण होईल पण मला ह्या गोष्टीची पूर्ण कल्पना आहे कि आज चोउर्तबहेर गेलात तर तुम्हाला काळ्या कोतातले कितीतरी कावले दिसतील. मग ह्या काळ्या पाड्यावर झार मला झाल्कायचा असेल तर मग मुद्दा येतो मगाशी मी म्हणाल्या प्रमाणे व्यक्तिमत्व विकासाचा हा चार लोकांसमोर बोलण्याचा आत्मविश्वास मी माझ्या पेश्यात वापरू शकते. पण हा आत्मविश्वास मिळवायला मला जितका वेळ लागला तेवढा आपल्या पुढचा पिढीला लागू नये हीच इच. 

आताही जी मुला शाळेत आहेत त्यांना मला हेच सुचवायचा आहे कि अभ्यास कराच पण घोकाम्पती करू नका, चंद झोपासा, गण शिका, नाच शिका, नाटक बसवा, वक्तृत्व स्पर्धेत भाग घ्या, क्रीडा क्षेत्रात झलक, पास्त्या भाषा शिका, चांगल्या कादंबर्या वाचा. वाचनावरून म्हणायचं तर हल्ली आपल्यते बरेच जण इंग्रजी माध्यमातले त्या मुले मातृ भाषेची एकूण बोंबच म्हणा. माजीही तीच स्थिती आहे. म्हणून ही भाषण लिहून काढावा लागला, कारण पटकन एखादा मराठी शब्द सुचला नाही तर? पण उशिराने का होएन मी मराठी साहित्य वाचायला लागले, आणि मला जाणवला कि तेह किती परिपक्व आहे. थोडक्यात मराठी, हिंदी, इंग्रजी काहीही वाचा पण शालेय पुस्तकान पलीकडे जाऊन वाचा. एकूण तात्पर्य असा कि इदिओत्स तुम्ही सगळ्याने पहिलाच असेल त्यातला एक दिअलोगुए माज्या डोक्यात घर करून बसला तोः म्हणजे excellence ke piche doudo, success toh zhak marke ayega. 

मी कदाचित लहान तोंडी मोठा घास घेतला असेन तर मला क्षमा असावी. मी माझा भाषण ह्याच अपेक्षेवर संपवते कि असेच आपण जेव्हा आपल्या मंडळाची साठी किंवा पंचातरी साजरी करू तेव्हा कारल्याचा पुढचा पिध्याने वेगवेगळ्या क्षेत्रात झळझळीत यश मिळवलेला असो. धन्यवाद