What Young India Really Wants!

I was discussing how bad this book 'What young India wants", by Chetan Bhagat, is with a friend recently. Yesterday, I received the below mail from Vivek, a friend, with similar title. Couldn't help but share it with all the readers of this blog. I think Mr. Bhagat will have to a do some more research before he goes on to sell another "masterpiece". 

A must read ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

ये दाग़ दाग़ उजाला, ये शब गज़ीदा सहर 

वो इंतेज़ार था जिसका, ये वोह सहर तो नहीं 

ये वो सहर तो नहीं जिसका आरज़ू लेकर 

चले ये यार कि मिल जाएगी कहीं न कहीं 

फलक के दश्त में तारों की आखरी मंज़िल

- फैज़ अहमद फैज़ 

(L to R): 1. Black flags adorn the village on 'Independence Day'

2. The proximity of the reactor to the coastline is alarming

3. Rohind said, "Don't take my picture, take one of all of us."

Over the last couple of days most of us celebrated the Indian Independence day. We bought flags, hoisted them and saluted them. However, people in a small coastal village of Tamil Nadu abstained. The people of Idinthakarai know the historic freedom struggle too well and they also know that freedom doesn’t come easy. They abstained because they are reliving part of the struggle. Their freedom is at stake and they have decided not to be mere spectators. Idinthakarai is a small coastal village in Tamil Nadu that most of us would not have known in our lives. However, from 1986, seeds of a pact between Russia (then Soviet Union) and India meant that 3.5kms from this village, the world’s biggest nuclear power plant is going to be made. The Koodankulam nuclear power plant has had a rather slow construction, thankfully. Since the birth of the idea for this nuclear power plant, in 1986, the people of the area have resisted it. However, delayed construction, political realignments across the world and a blithe middle class meant that the advent of the 21st century eclipsed the struggle of these people. But the resilience of the people hasn’t faded one bit, over the last year the people of the area have resisted the commissioning of the nuclear power plant through peaceful protests. Their reasons are simple; they want  “risk-free electricity, a disease-free life, unpolluted natural resources, sustainable development and a peaceful future.” For over 370 days they have led a peaceful protest against the nuclear power plant that will drastically affect their lives. In the process, they have been called several names: foreign agents, anti-development, uneducated, anti-India. However, most people who attributed these names are the ones who are not ready to accept the fact that ordinary people can understand issues that affect their life and take constructive action to make change happen. I visited the village on the 17th of August to see for myself what was happening there. I happened to meet a young boy of 13, Rohind. It was painful to know that we have ignored the people of this village, their lives and their rights. I don’t want to narrate his story. It is his story and you should hear it straight from him. I have attached the recording. Before I left I told Rohind that I would bring him his picture when I visited next, he smiled and replied, “Next time you come, we close the nuclear reactor.” What young India really wants, if only we care to listen rather than proclaim. 

Audio link: Rohind's interview [please click to listen to the audio]

Audio, text and photos by - Vivek Vellanki

P.S: Please feel free to circulate this.

Related articles

1. http://www.epw.in/commentary/koodankulam-struggle-and-foreign-hand.html

2. http://www.thehindu.com/opinion/op-ed/article3824731.ece

3. http://www.epw.in/commentary/silent-emergency-koodankulam.html

4. http://indiatoday.intoday.in/story/madras-hc-raps-centre-over-kudankulam-nuclear-plant/1/213476.html

5. http://www.thehindu.com/news/resources/article3519922.ece

That thing …forever!

Sun spread itself on the floor of their drawing room. The only sounds that bothered the otherwise quiet air were the occasional hush-hush of few members of the family and the call bell that the maid would answer once in a while.

Ravi and Sarika were sitting on the either side of the clean white sheet; motionless, speechless but full of thoughts – thoughts which raced from one to the next, without giving any clue where they got lost in the whole scheme of things. 

He was lying on the floor, resting his both hands back to support his body which would have otherwise fallen down. He scanned around the house looking at the walls and the roof and the floor and the door and the windows. They all look quieter. Quieter than what they all seemed a night before this day when they all were filled with the cacophony of their fights, echoing the hate they would spill off on each other. Could it be the suffocation of that hatred which is responsible for what happened – he wondered. He then fixed his eyes on one end of the white sheet, the end opposite to where she was staring at. 

Her lower lip curled itself inside to get wet. Her eyes would have turned into stone if they were not blinked for some more time. She could hear her voices from the last night. She had almost shouted at Ravi, “I want to be free forever. And I want my son to be free… free from the clutches of your failures… free from your anger… your rage… your fucking, miserable life... for god’s sake! I want to take away my son to a life of hope and positivity and happiness…. forever and ever.”

It’s been two months. Their divorce was settled and now they were fighting for their son’s custody. If things would have gone as planned, they would have been sitting in the court room today to hear the verdict. Last night, both tried to argue, as their last chance, before the final verdict… just in case the other would change mind… or heart. No judge. No advocate. No legal hearing. Only their twelve year old son, to their ignorance, was standing behind the closed door, as motionless, speechless and full of random thoughts… as they were now. 

She wondered now, what does forever mean? 

Rishabh is dead… forever. And beyond death, what else is there… like forever? Feelings? People? Possessions? Life? …not even life. Only death is forever… naturally. Everything else is forced, constructed. If you decide not to talk with someone forever, you force yourself to not to. If you decide not to love someone forever, you force yourself to commit to it… and in our rage to hate each other forever, we went a little too far… so far that we lost our son forever. Was it all about him?

All this while she could hear her voice rise. From low pitch to high. Just like last night. Only that, it was in the head. It appeared as if her thoughts were talking to his, growing over in their heads, as loud as they could, strongly contrasting the silence outside. she felt him saying – No it was all about us. It was always about us. We had almost forgotten that he existed; existed as a person beyond flesh and blood. A person with a mind that might have had hundred questions for us and a heart that would be bleeding with thousand emotions, with what was going around him. But we never really cared.

She moved her eyes from one end towards another in a hope to see Rishabh’s face but got caught by Ravi’s, who had moved away from the face, in a hope to seek a momentary withdrawal from the reality of the moment. When they both met, they could not really decide what was more profound in each other’s – the guilt or the sadness? Hatred? Probably that was long gone, before they could even realize. Sometimes we engage ourselves in a desperate search of that “forever” thing… so intensely that we almost forget what we really wanted for ourselves, for ever.

Irresponsible entertainment?

What would we do when we graduate from X with good grades and getting admitted to a good junior college? Shop? Party? Have fun? This girl, I met some days ago, more than anything else, raced around to get her name changed. Why? Because her name, apparently, had become a way too popular.

It may sound a little too frivolous. But trust me, if any of you would have met her, you would understand what I am talking about. If you had seen in her eyes the guilt of bearing a name that was adjective-zed with something like “chikani” and contained in a song that vulgarizes one's being, you would understand where I am coming from.

When I asked her why she changed her name, she informed me, “Bhaiya, I don’t want to spend my first few months of college in embarrassment.” I felt angry. Imagine if I had to rename myself because some careless a**hole has turned my name into a cheap entertainment! Some people may argue that this girl, and all the girls like her, need to have courage and strength to fight it or to ignore and not to be affected. I ask, fight or ignore is a good idea... but how many times in a day?

I am sure when her parents would have named her whatever they did, they must have had some very beautiful connotation. And we – people who create such songs and those of us who have made them so popular – have brought shame upon the same name. At this realization, I think of all those girls who may be named a Munni, a Sheela, a Chameli and such. What creepy humiliation it is when you walk on the street and someone at your back sings “Sheela ki Jawani” or “Chikani Chameli”!

Men have been objectifying women since ages. That's pathetic. But what is more crazily insane is women's participation in this process of victimization. This has to stop. And to stop this, it’s not men who will take the initiative, some may be empathetic though. Rather its women who need to take the lead. I wonder - why a Shreya Ghosal has to sing Chikani Chameli in first place? Why a Farah khan has to create space for Sheela ki Jawani in her film? Why Malaika Arora has to dance on Munni Badnam Huyi? Why these women do not have courage to say no to such demands? After all they are established and powerful figures in their respective professions? Aren’t they?

As I understand cinema, the concept of “script ki demand” is crap. There are hundred other ways to narrate one's story. One just needs to explore those other ways. And I don’t think it’s about creative liberty to do what we do in liberty’s name. If that would have been the case, it would have been interesting to listen to Katrina ki jawani or Farah badnam huyi. But we don’t. Because in the name of creative liberty we rarely spill off the shit on ourselves. It’s mostly others.

I respect the courage with which all the girls with these names are surviving and fighting this humiliation. On my part, I pledge never to play to any of such songs. I pray that someday our film industry will grow to be a little more sensitive. I also hope that in one of the Satyamev Jayate episodes Mr. Amir Khan also talks about the social responsibility his industry has and is not catering to. Amen!

P.S. – I am a huge Amir fan and I love his work, including SMJ.

Reinstituting faith...

“How do we inspire ourselves to greatness when nothing less will do? How do we inspire everyone around us? I sometimes think it is by using the work of others,” suggests Nelson Mandela to Francois Pienaar, in the movie, Invictus. Frankly my quest right now is not for greatness. That’s too much to ask for when all I am seeking is sustenance in and a periodical, critical review of the decisions I have taken in my life. Why I am where I am and why am I doing whatever I am doing? In such moments of uncertainty I seek out for reasons, and further for inspiration to sustain those reasons.

Recently I happened to meet two inspiring sets of people.

I was walking towards Matunga station with some friends. That’s when I spotted this lady, busy teaching this child while running her vegetable shop. I wonder, what kind of determination and faith in education it would take for a mother (or guardian) to keep on educating one’s child in most difficult circumstances of life?

Few days later, I happened to visit the Cuff Parade Slum area which is majorly populated by fishermen and their families. I met these two awesome boys (right in the above picture, boys in the school dress) who lived next to a filthy garbage collection pit (left in the above picture). Still, they were getting dressed for their school with a happy smile on their faces. There was no one in the house. I assume their parents were off to work. The elder brother was helping the younger one to get ready. Their smiles whispered to me then, “We believe in what you are doing, do you?”

I would want to make a point here that I don’t intend to glorify the “power of poor to fight against the odds of poverty”. That’s not the aim. I have met people from other sections (the upper and the middle class), who have lived their lives with equally strong examples of faith. It so happens that the two stories I mentioned here come from a certain section of society (of which I have other issues but shall not discuss it here, as it's not in the scope of this piece). Also, I think it doesn’t matter which field of work we choose to live by; what matters is our understanding about our work and what is it intended at. Rest everything falls into place.

I have read Gandhi’s talisman* in almost all my CBSE board books through my schooling days. However its true meaning only unfolds now when I think of that lady on the street, those boys in the slums and many such amazing set of people I happen to interact in my course of life. With this, the doubts in my mind start melting away…!

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* Gandhi’s Talisman: "I will give you a talisman. Whenever you are in doubt, or when the self becomes too much with you, apply the following test. Recall the face of the poorest and the weakest man [woman] whom you may have seen, and ask yourself, if the step you contemplate is going to be of any use to him [her]. Will he [she] gain anything by it? Will it restore him [her] to a control over his [her] own life and destiny? In other words, will it lead to swaraj [freedom] for the hungry and spiritually starving millions? Then you will find your doubts and your self melt away." – Source: http://www.mkgandhi.org/gquots1.htm

P. S.: The opening of this blog is same as one my previous blogs,  http://rohit2093.wordpress.com/2011/01/28/beyond-the-cycle-and-cancer/  . It fitted in here pretty well and didn’t feel like changing it.