Get Real!

The world watches with bated breaths, eyes transfixed on their TV screens, cell phones switched off, family outings cancelled, focused upon two people whose lives are about to change. Sounds familiar? Yes, this is what happens at least once every few months in almost all families, when the ‘Grand Finale’ of their favorite reality show is aired. The reality show craze has gripped the entire nation and how! There was a time when family melodramas were at their peaks of success and popularity. Everybody used to adore the pretty, sincere, religious, innocent ‘Tulsi’ and wanted a daughter-in-law just like her. Following her footsteps, there was no stopping other “Tulsis’ to take their places in the various other K serials. And who did not love to hate the scary vamps, flashing their gaudy jewellery and humongous bindis ostentatiously? But there has been a drastic shift from these, crawling serials with their never-ending scripts and ever-young (and almost immortal) characters to Reality shows which deal with real people, real emotions and real lives.
The audience love to see the people from middle-class and destitute families rise to such heights of fame. Plus, it gives people a great opportunity to display their talents to the world and fulfill their dreams. From ‘Indian Idol’ to ‘The Moment Of Truth’, they appeal to all! It’s inspiring to watch people change their destinies overnight!
However, as we all know, there is always another side to a coin. How ‘real’ these reality shows are has always been a question. Often it appears as if they try to put in unnecessary drama and over hype any statement made by the contestants for the other contestants. The participants and the parents always seem to have a high EQ (emotional quotient). There have been allegations on many shows that they are scripted. It is pre-decided which contestant is going to win in the end. Gradually, these shows are losing their demand too. They are becoming too clichéd and bland. It’s always the same judges, the same comments (one of the favorite of the judges- “you’re performance was mind-blowing!”), the same vote-outs and the same tears (minus the glycerin however). I think shows like ‘Roadies’ and ‘Splitsvilla’ grab the maximum amount of TRPs because of their youth, glamour and cat fights. Who would not love to watch the skin show of a bevy of beauties?
People all over the country are crazy about Roadies. Every one wants to be one. To get into the audition directly, youngsters are participating in the Roadies Battleground where it requires you to do absolutely insane tasks, (including walking on the streets screaming like Tarzan and wearing the opposite sex’s undergarments over your clothes!!) make videos and upload them. Roadies today, is one of the most popular show among the Youngistanis! It has spread across the nation like wildfire! Splitsvilla, is too catching up. Although I find the concept of ‘finding true love’ in a show like this highly unlikely and fake. Well, it’s still better than watching women with faces that look like pancakes smeared with lipstick and mascara, tears streaming down their faces, weeping in front of their Gods. The moment I find my mom switching on to Star Plus, I hurry out of the room. Whew, I cant stand them. Well, they are still loved by women. Ekta Kapoor needn’t worry much. She still has fans!

P.S.- Reality check: Love them or hate them, you cant ignore them!

Dumb and Dumber.

A couple of days back I found myself in a pretty embarrassing situation. I was listening to songs and solving quizzes on Facebook, when my dad came in the room and asked me to come out and meet some guests that had come from Benaras for a visit. I made a face and languidly got up. Now, meeting relatives and being formal isn’t my thing. You have to wish them and sit there, answering their questions and smiling so demurely.
Anyway, my bro and I went up to meet them. Wished them and answered their questions very sweetly. Then my grandpa asked me to touch their feet. And there were four of them, mind you. Well, anyway I did and felt highly dumb doing that. There were 2 kids as well. The boy seemed to be around 16 and the girl was about 13. Mummy asked me to take them inside and entertain them. As we were going inside, my dad mumbled something which I couldn’t hear and like an idiot I didn’t even ask him what he had said. We went inside and I switched on the TV. We sat there watching MTV and the girl had this awfully sweet smile throughout. And the boy didn’t say anything at all. These aspects made me a tad uncomfortable.
Then to give the ball a roll, I asked them what grades they were in. after a pause, the boy said “I’m in 11th and she’s in 7th.” I stared at him. He had literally squeaked those words out. His voice was more high-pitched than an opera singer’s. Then I noticed. He was hare lipped. Bummer! He had a vocal problem. I kept mum after that but I kept talking to the girl (so that the boy may not have to speak and be embarrassed). I told her about a movie they were showing and said things like,
“Oh this is a good show!”
“You know this song has been shot in one day.”
Out of the blue the boy said, “She cannot hear…or speak.” I was stunned. I looked at her. She was still smiling. I felt my face redden. I muttered an apology and excused myself out.
That was what dad had tried to tell me! How foolish could I be?! Well we had dinner afterwards and I couldn’t help looking at her all the time. She was talking to her mom in sign language. She was serving food. She was even laughing. She seemed so…..used to it! I mean, obviously she doesn’t know what sounds are, so she probably doesn’t complain. But, God, she doesn’t even know what she is missing. I cannot even imagine myself not talking to anyone. (I blabber nonsense all day). And I have to listen to music daily. Even though she couldn’t speak, she was a very likable person. My cell rang and as I spoke into it, I looked at her and realized that she can never use one. How tough things must be for her. I felt blessed that I had the ability to hear and speak. How do deaf and mute people deal with it I just cannot fathom. And we take this ability of ours so much for granted. We say things which we shouldn’t. We hurt others by what we say. We listen to the latest gossips and then spread them around. It is said “Its better to be quiet and seem like an idiot, than by opening your mouth and proving that you are one”.
They went back after sometime. She sat in the car and grinned and waved at me. I smiled and waved back. She was deaf and dumb. And I had made, as kids say, a big BooBoo. At that time, I felt dumber.

The Man Who Sold Peanuts

There he used to stand, along the side of the road, with his crooked little peanut cart. Everyday I used to see a glimpse of him on my way to school. He was old and withered, with sad, melancholy, hollow eyes and a tuft of white hair on his head. He used to stand at a not-so-busy area, usually bereft of people. I often wondered why. Maybe he didn’t like the din and bustle of people. May be the noises of the traffic, all that commotion made him uncomfortable. Or maybe he didn’t like competition with the gaudy carts of the chaat-wallahs.
Seeing him stand there, all alone, in rags with a few gunny bags filled with some shrivelled peanuts, with no customers stopping by him made me sad.. my heart reached out to him. I don’t know what was so special about him but he was the only poor fellow who affected me this much. How can life be so unfair to some people? Everyday on my way, I used to look at him, he was always there. Standing alone, in the same colthes, at the same spot, staring at nothing. Maybe he remembered his past, a halcyon, or maybe it was tragic. Often my sister and I would buy his peanuts. Although they were not always good, in fact they were never good and mom always used to say “Why do you girls buy such bad-quality peanuts? Who is going to have them?” and they would often go into the dustbin. But I never felt bad for the wastage because I always felt I helped the pitiable peanut seller. We were amongst his handful of customers.
As the days went by he grew older and weaker. During the winters, he would sit inside his cart, which was no bigger than the usual ice-cream cart, with an old blanket around him. The sight made my heart burn, even in the icy-cold weather. Why didn’t somebody help him? Where was his family? Did they just leave him stranded alone like that? To struggle through life at such an age? Or maybe his folks were not alive anymore. He had no home, no one. His cart was his only means to survive..his life. One chilly evening, my sister and I were returning home, he was there at his usual place. I decided to buy some peanuts from him. I went up to him and asked for peanuts worth rupees 5. He began to take them out languidly and fill them in a paper bag. He had grotesque bruises and his skin was burnt. Maybe his family and home were destroyed in a fire accident? His hands were shaking, I felt a strong urge to help him. I took out a 50 rupee note and gave it to him. I wanted him to keep the whole of it. I started moving away towards my sister. When I looked back, he stared at the note and then at me, wondering what to do. Maybe he was thinking of returning the money, but I didn’t give him a chance. He kept the note carefully in his wooden box. He probably got paper notes rarely because his box was full of coins. The note stood proudly amongst them. He closed the lid and looked at me with a note of ‘Thenks’ in his eyes. He seemed grateful.
During the summer vacations, as school closed, I stopped going to school and did not get to see him again. Ever. His cart was still there with a lock on it. But there was no sign of him. Subsequently, his cart was gone too.
Maybe he died, im glad he did. What life was he leading anyway? Death is a lot better than leading a life of misery and pain. If there is a heaven up there, im sure he has a bigger and better peanut business, and hes doing good there!

The Revelation

Its getting hotter by the second! I mean today I had to go out for a while and it was sweltering hot. I felt roasted! Anyway, I made strawberry shake today and everybody liked it! Ahhe ahhe!

Okay I wanted to share this little something with y’all. A few days back I was carrying my little cousin and walking in our colony. The weather was pleasant and kinda breezy. I was plucking out the flowers from the trees and giving it to him and he was squealing with joy! He is just so cute! He’s fair and has red rosy cheeks and the best part is- he doesn’t cry much. Now wailing babies really irritate me sometimes especially when they’ve got a trail of nosey running down their noses! Eww! In fact, he’s so cheerful that even when he walks and wobbles and falls down, instead of crying he laughs and gets up!

Anyway, as I was walking, I saw this girl who was no more than 12 or 13. She was sweeping the leaves off my neighbour’s porch. Her younger brother (about 8-9) was sort of tinkering behind her with another broom and helping her. They had another sibling who was just a baby sitting on the floor. Suddenly the baby started coughing and then crying. He was wearing a soiled little shirt and his face was covered with dirt and his nose was running. Hearing him cry, the elder brother dropped his broom, went up to the baby, picked him up, hoisted him on his hip and started to shush him. He did it with such a motherly efficiency that it amazed me. The girl just looked at them and continued to sweep. It seemed as if she had to complete the task fast. She wore a worn out salwar with a completely mismatched kurta.

As I stood watching them, with my cousin still looking at the flowers and clapping and squealing, the stark contrast hit me hard. The big difference. The only difference. The difference between us and those kids was a simple five letter word. Money. We have it. They barely do. Why? Why don’t they have the right to go to school? Why isn’t their mother around to wipe off their noses and keep them clean? Why cant they get education and become successful people? Because its their fate. Destiny. Somebody once said “We make up our own lives and then call them ‘fate’”. Well what about those who don’t have the means to make their lives?

Why do those children have to sweep and clean and toil to earn a handful of coins while we don’t even care to pick up a 5 rupee coin we see lying around at our homes? Why do they have to sleep on the streets and we indulge ourselves in such luxuries?

Well there have been a lot of times when I’ve thought about this. And whenever I see beggars or poor people, I feel so low. Even guilty sometimes. That day, when I saw those 3 children I felt something deeper. It was like a revelation. I was suddenly wondering why we are still so unhappy and ever-complaining? We complain about the fact that we didn’t get those particular Nike shoes that we wanted. Or we groan when we look at that same yellow dal that is served to us during lunch. Some of us complain that we did not get that Playstation game that we’ve been dying to have. Its something or the other. But its always there. That constant urge to want something. Either its that cool apple i-pod or the classy cell phones that our friends show off. Why can't we cherish the things that we have? Why don't we ever stay satisfied and happy and make the most of what all we have?

Look around you. I mean, literally. Go on. Do it. You’re probably sitting on your PC or your laptop. Or even if you’re in a café or at a friend’s place, let me tell you something. You’re lucky. You’re lucky because you have the skill, the chance to surf the net. Millions of people haven’t even seen a computer in their lives. Think about it. Realize it. It will make you feel so much more fortunate, happy, contented and grateful.

We have everything to make our lives. Yes, the means. Lets just stop complaining and do something about our lives. Instead of grumbling and rumbling.

Those poor kids were beautiful. In their own way. Although poverty was dripping from their faces. I kind of smiled at the girl, and she reluctantly smiled back. I sighed and went inside.

Strangely, at that moment I felt elated