To Talk or Not to Talk

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Too many people have spoken about religion saying why we either should or shouldn’t talk about it. Somehow, we’ve managed to inflate something so petty to the size of our giant heads.

Religion is petty and any talk about it is sheer vanity. Take a look at our society for instance. Half of the global population is struggling for a proper meal fresh air. And our religious leaders sit around tables, debating the valiant sacrifices of Jesus, while unscrewing a bottle of packaged water.

As if Moses splitting the Red sea would help the people in slums who walk two hours a day to fetch a day’s worth of drinking water.

Then come the holy worshippers. They join their hands in prayer, glorifying a lord who wears a tiger’s skin for a skirt. And while they ramble on, vultures nibble the ribs of a hungry child in Somalia.

Oh, not to forget the man under a Bo tree, with his eyes closed waiting for sainthood to descend upon him. And while he was busy preaching love, people threw stones at a young girl who declared herself a boy.

As for the other great leader, nations explode in his name. He doesn’t seem to bother, so why should we? As some people’s lives blow up, we sit around, munching on kale chips, and mope about a sitcom character who lost the love of his life.

And since we don’t have enough religions in the world already, some people take it upon themselves to come up with fictional religions like Nugganism, Meyerism, and Dudeism. That last one, in case you didn’t know, is based on the principals of a movie character named, “The Dude.” That’s brilliant.

It’s so common now that we have a name for it, even: New Religious Movement. And you’re a fool if you had thought NRM stood for Natural Resource Management. You’re so old school.

As John Oliver might say, how is the world still a thing? We should have gone off in a puff of smoke long ago — like the Mayans promised us. It makes no sense for us to hang around in a world that’s heartless and lacking in apathy.

The day we decided to talk about religion and fight over who’s better than whom, we gave up on humanity.

God save us all!

Pantry Talks

Hi there! Sorry, I didn’t notice you. Though I wouldn’t have come in if I had. Great to see you — again.

I’m just here to grab a cup of coffee. Sure, we can talk. As long as it’s here and not in my place. I wouldn’t want you there flirting with my teammates.

Oh, work’s fine, thanks for asking. How’s about yours?

Must’ve been hard to input all those numbers, huh? Ah no worries, you won’t get fired for smoking weed at the parking lot. You were stressed, you say? Sure, it’s not as if that’s offensive or dangerous—or against the policy.

Nothing’s new with life, then? Quite obvious, since we had this exact conversation in the restroom a couple of hours ago. But you’re right. Anything can happen anytime, even though we’re just staring at screens behind glass doors.

Yeah, the weekend’s almost here. No plans yet, why do you ask? Oh, it’s a place south of here, huh? Sounds fun, a weekend hike with you and some friends I don’t know. Sure,
I’d love to make barbecue and talk about new movies. Not at all a waste of time.

No no, we can talk. It’s not like I have a memo to finish. Or work on the upcoming release.

Hell no, I’m not declining your hike offer because I have a date. And no, it’s not that I don’t like you either. I’m cool with you gossiping behind people’s backs. It sure is a fun way to blow off steam. You’re right, life’s short. And standing here talking to you makes me realise it more.

You know, why didn’t make eye contact as I came in here? No, I didn’t want to avoid you, but, you see, I’m stuck with an issue. Can you help fix it?

Wha — you just remembered you’re busy? You were just chilling out until I mentioned work. You shouldn’t be in the pantry at 3 in the afternoon if you have tasks over your head.

Oh, I see. Sure, sure, we all get distracted sometimes. So, you’re going now? Yup, I’ll catch you sometime later. And I hope sometime’s never.

Keep to the Status

Here in India, we love our status. Nothing matters more to a parent than getting their child married into a family that’ll fit their own.

The lower status marries within the lower status. And the higher marries within the higher. And the middle — the backbone of society — marries within the middle. However, as the backbone of our society, the middle class is divided as upper middle and lower middle, again with the same rules. However, on a few rare cases, the middle lands with a high-class family that would take them.

It’s an abomination to even suggest a union between families of major status differences.

It’s the norm. We revere our ‘class’ififcation so much that the happiness between a couple is more a matter of money than a matter of the heart.

Plus, marrying out of status is a moral sin. You wouldn’t be able to show your face at a family gathering without your relatives whispering behind your back. Oh, the embarrassment!

And it’s not just a one-time insult, either. These reunions happen at least once every year. People would cast a mixed couple out of the “community,” and no matter how much they insist they’re happy, no one would trust them.

Tsk tsk. How could they be happy with someonKeep to the Statuse other than their own?

Our narrow elders wouldn’t hear of such nonsense. Plus, they’d have plenty of rational reasons too.

For example, at a mixed-status wedding, the bride/groom from the higher status should bear all expenses, including, food, decorations, makeup, cameramen, DJs, and the cleanup crew. Because, well, their spouse is less wealthy. And then the post-wedding rituals like holy (read pricey) contributions to the relatives and the spouse’s family.

And if the higher status fails their duties, it would disrupt the couple’s happiness. Yes, in India, we measure the success of a marriage based on the money given away.

And that’s why you should marry only within your status level. That way, both parties would share the expenses, like the wedding invitation, the house for the couple, the washing machine, the blender, and even the vessels. The bride’s father would pay for the groom’s car (because he has a long commute to work), and the groom’s mother would help the bride peel onions in the kitchen. Give and take and win for all.

That’s all there is to marriage. It’s a union of two families from the same status so that they can give and take as equals, and profit from it, too.

And all that talk about two hearts binding? That’s just a myth.

Growing Up…

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We all have to go through that unpleasant funnel called growing up. It’s irreversible and inevitable.

It was great being young and unwitting. It was easier to spend all evenings watching Tom chase Jerry or Coyote the Roadrunner.

I remember when I was in primary school I’d come home tired, and sleep for an hour or two. And then I’d wake up to television, with tea and baked goodness on my side.

And growing up only made me realise that that’s how I gained weight in my mid region.

It was fun when I didn’t have to worry about anything but my homework. Whereas now I worry about everything from clocking into office on time, finishing my tasks without lags, and eating something healthy for each meal.

Until a few years ago, my life had seemed perfect. I had taken everything for granted — without caring for my health, making enough for a living, or saving up for a future. It now feels like a miracle that I once all that mattered to me was getting strong tea and stronger coffee.

And now, though, I can’t help but notice when people litter on the streets. It bothers me that 10-year-olds have their heads in a screen when they should have their heads in the clouds.

I’m now inclined to think of the big stuff. I’m wishing the ozone didn’t have holes, hoping humanity wouldn’t decimate itself, and wondering why aliens haven’t done that already.

As sad as it sounds to shed the innocence of a childhood gone by, I’ve grown to grow concerned about everything around me. It now matters to me that the world faces a crisis. It makes me wonder how it would affect me. It makes me a little aware, a little knowledgeable, and, at times, a little bitchy.

Until last year I didn’t know how a business works after launching a product. Since then, I’ve seen people coming up with new tactics, new products, and even new ways to fail.

I’ve been there and done that, but I’ve also been around others who did the same. I’m no longer that awkward kid with a dazed look. And that comes only when you’ve lived through ignorance and broken through the barriers of youth.

Youth is wonderful. Everyone should experience it. But growing up is a vaccination everyone should swallow to survive.

What’s the Point of Buying a House?

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For people in my parents’ age, buying a house — or building one — is the ultimate goal. Life had a basic structure: education, job, house, EMI, marriage, EMI, kids, EMI, kids’ education, and (phew) retiring into the house they built all those EMIs ago.

By the time they move into their home, they’d have grown too old to climb the spiral stairs they’d so wanted. Sure, it would’ve looked sexy in movies or when Holmes darted up a stairwell with Watson at his heels, but the knee ache would be just too real.

It’s funny how my parents still think that that’s the way to go. Build a house, they say, and you’re set for life. It’s a good investment, a future-proof solution for when you’re much too old to work any longer. According to them, we need something we could fall back to when things get rough and soreness starts to show.

With the way my generation lives, with all the soda, the extra-cheesy burgers, and sitting on our asses, I doubt we’ll even live long enough to hit retirement. Besides, what’s the fun in spending all your youthful vigour saving for an unforeseeable future?

I’d rather spend my money and time on a road trip I’d enjoy now than agonise over interest for the next 5 years. I’d rather spend my money on a good bottle of wine than go over patterned tiles for the bathroom of a house I can’t afford.

And I’d choose Netflix today than fretting over a 27-inch television that would’ve gone off-style by the time I’m ready to kick back, debt-free.

Even though I explain all this to my parents as I’d explain the art of cereal-eating to a toddler, they still fall back to, “Buying a house will free up your future.” Our society has hammered the idea into their skulls for far too long.

And as I look into the eyes that plead me to save more and buy a house, I end up smiling, “Sure, mom.”

In my heart, though, I know buying a house is the last thing I’d do.

I’ve been living in my current rented house for almost a year and I’m itching to move already. If I’d have to spend hoards on a single house and live in it forever, that’d be punishment and not freedom.