Tag: postaday

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.

A Thing of the Past

The best things in life are often in the past. Only we humans reminisce and yearn for what we once had.

I’m only human.

I’d never say no to a road trip. On one such trip, we headed to Pondicherry to celebrate my parents’ anniversary—away from all our negative relative trouble.

On the way, I found, dangling from my brother’s rear view mirror, my peace.

a-thing-of-the-past-peace

Growing Up…

growing-up

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 Photography?

photography point.jpg

I’ve spent restless nights for the sun to come up so I could click a picture.

I’ve zoomed in far more than I should, just to get a clear shot of a waning moon as darkness engulfed it.

I’ve pointed my camera at many places, trying to land a perfect angle. I should have just gaped open-mouthed, instead.

Photography is addictive. I’ve got a great phone that takes stunning images, with a precise focus. Plus, it’s so fancy I need to flaunt it. And I also have a craving to capture scenic, yet uncommon, sights of everyday life.

That’s what makes me flip out my phone every time I’m at a restaurant. Or stop short in the street to click a picture of a witty billboard. It’s what makes me lean over pointy plants and hover over a blooming flower.

It felt therapeutic at first to scroll through photos and pretend I had more memories than I could remember. But then, I didn’t remember those moments because I never paid attention.

And as I went to the terrace this morning, I saw the sun pushing its way through dense clouds, illuminating the sky with orange rays. As the clouds lined gold, a balloon of joy erupted within me. And in an instant, I wished I had my phone in hand.

Without thinking, I wanted to freeze the moment rather than enjoy it. I wasn’t in the present but was thinking about taking it to the future.

It was sad. Nature had given me a glorious sight, and there I was my eyes clouded behind the veil of a camera lens. What’s the point of looking at something and not seeing it?

In truth, photography means nothing to me. I’m no professional, and I don’t intend to be.

I don’t have a fancy camera or the knowledge of perfecting lighting, angles, or aperture.
I shouldn’t mind sacrificing a few photos if it meant I could eat a meal while it’s still warm. It’s fine to stare at the moon for five minutes without panicking over an unfocused photo. And ok to look at the sky, calling out, “Bring me that horizon.”

Sure, I should still get a good photo or two of momos — because they’re too good to resist. But for me, photography is a hobby, and it shouldn’t get in the way of living my life.

Honesty Is the Best Policy

honesty

From primary school to middle and even in high school, we’ve vouched for honesty countless times. It’s embedded in our heads even without our consent.

But we also know they’re just empty words.How honest could we sound about being honest when we know so well that it would squash us? It’s how life is. Nowadays, no one can be honest and have a peaceful life at the same time.

How honest could we sound about being honest when we know so well that it would squash us? It’s how life is. Nowadays, no one can be honest and have a peaceful life at the same time.

Because once you realise the truth leads to misery, you wouldn’t want to take that route.

It starts small, like students telling their parents they finished homework, when they hadn’t. It’s so common that it’s not even breaking the being honest rule. Besides, telling the truth is too much trouble to deal with.

Likewise, a self-respecting adult wouldn’t walk up to a cop and declare they’ve hidden a stash in their car. You can’t do that and expect the law to let you go — just because you were honest.

Or perhaps this: “Honey, you look hideous. But I love you.” That’s a good punch line. And in the current state of our society, the guy may be charged with body shaming and sexism as well.

Being truthful is painful. And as humans, we try to avoid it. So much so that we don’t even feel guilty of being dishonest anymore. Why bother? It’s not as if there’s a SWAT team outside a thirteen-year old’s door sniffing for a whiff of beer.

It’s easier to hide the wrong stuff.

And we’ve landed an intolerable society because we chose the easy way rather than the right way.

For far too long, we’ve been telling children to be honest, without teaching them how. From the small things like forgetting to get the report card signed, to bigger things like forgetting to pay the taxes, it’s all about honesty — or the lack of it.

We’ve said it too many times. As a result, we nullified the meaning of it. Like when Mark Antony called Brutus an honourable man. By the end of that speech, no one thought Brutus honourable.

It’s no different with honesty. What was once a moral became a proverb, and is now a cliché. And we avoid clichés like the plague.

The government doesn’t go through every individual’s tax payments. The police don’t scour every college dorm for narcotics. And there’s no FBI breaking down doors looking for illegal weapon holders.

We shouldn’t enforce honesty but introduce it early.

We don’t need teachers reading out to students from a book that says, “Honesty is the best policy”. What we need, instead, is for them to explain the truth and the reality of facing consequences.