26 October 2009

Gen X, Y & Z

I'm confused about who Gen X, Y & Z are supposed to be, but in this post the terminology is used to refer to those between this median- 21 to 34.

It looks like the young country has ridden through and out of the recession. The new graduates this year have been absorbed into the BPOs, just like the previous years, with the exception of one trend. Large numbers of Engineering grads have been absorbed into the system, with lower salaries & lower demand as expected initially. Ofcourse, they hope to weather out the storm and hope to start venturing out as soon as the markets look up. For now though, the whirlwind BPO industry has got them hooked on salaries, friends & sneaky night/day outs.

Carefully watching these newcomers are those that have been in the system for many years more. Who a few short years ago, had similar dreams and hopes of getting somewhere and becoming someone. Then they accepted their first credit card application, or thought that while they stay employed, they could get a new auto loan. Some offered to pay for renovations at home, securing some respect. Others simply found that when they first their first dinner bill, they were being naive when they thought the rest of the group would pay up.

And so began their spiral. Banks were ready to offer loans and cards. Handed out at high interest rates, and secured through the general sense of elation the country was feeling at the thought of this booming economy. When the first of the layoffs began, it was thought that it was a result of mismanagement and simple competition. Survival of the fittest.

Then the bigger companies started getting rid of their bottom percentile. And more companies shut down, more layoffs in the newspaper headlines. Collections activity within the country increased, with banks catching the feverish caution the rest of the country was suddenly practicing.

Suddenly banks found that they had lent money precariously. And debtors found that they were stuck with high EMIs and lesser income that when they had started.

25 October 2009

The Importance of Not Being Earnest.

Grandma's come home for a visit, with the Grandpa and as always we got into a debate. The first was on marriage. I said that I need my wedding to be a day of happiness, where things are rosy, because it may be the only day things go the way I want them to.

Grandma, surprised & slightly shocked (though she really should know better) countered the statement by telling me that I'm supposed to be sad, because I'm leaving my parents & starting a new life. And it's not supposed to be a happy ocassion, so wanting to be happy is really an absurd thought.

And it was my turn to be shocked/surprised- now there's a thought I hadn't considered!

Then I said, we wouldn't need to invite all the people who follow through any of the below mentioned categories:

1. Those that get invited, but never come
2. Those that we invite, come, and go back home and complain to everyone about mal treatment
3. Those who would mind not being invited, because they were not considered-as opposed to being sad that they couldn't share this event with us
4. The many multitudes of relatives we have, that we've never seen, only heard off, who really wouldn't know me, that I haven't spoken to or care about.

And her response to the same was, "You never know who's going to come handy when you need help. Can't risk being talked about badly by the others and invite gossip."

And that statement, if it sticks till whenever this wedding actually takes place, is going to cost my dad those extra thousands of rupees.

14 October 2009

What they say...

They tell you in stories, through all means of communication: internet, television, books, newspapers and I suspect the Egyptian tombs, that love is this all conquering, omnipresent something that gives us the humanity and the patience to bear the hardest life that we have.

Just like bees round flowers or like rain makes someone wet, love is that special thing that makes life worth the pain and the hard realities. Maybe it's my age or my experience that makes me think so- but after the hippies of the 70s cracked the various ideological spheres that we had embedded ourselves in, we have started cracking down on this thing called love.

This potent liquid that made Juliet and Romeo drink the poison, that made Devdas alcoholic, the lack of which, makes people depressed and feel that something is wrong and they are horrible people because no one loves them. Boyfriends and Girlfriends spend whole salaries on each other trying to prove their love for one another, and a sudden realization that one doesn't feel the same way about their partner as they did when things 'started of' breaks many families and relationships.

But this is what I know. There is nothing called love, it is compassion, a fondness, a soft spot. It is a fluid boundary defying shapeless emotion that encompasses much like the circles when calculating probability, all other emotions, like fear, jealousy, envy, anger, happiness, anger.

Socialization on the other hand makes us think, feel & behave as though love is an existing component of everyone's life. Where in fact, it isn't. Because for it to be that, means it exists, when really it's just another word for the many synonyms for love.

So to conclude, no one is retarded because they don't feel they are loved. And no they don't need to go elsewhere to seek this magical thing, nor do they need the help of prozac. It's right there, because if it is really no where, then it can be every where, every where you want it to be. It does not control you, you control it, because you make it be. You make it exist.

At the end of this, my girlfriend just started bawling. I don't think she believed me. And worse, it made her cry more. :-(

Poor Fidel!

12 October 2009

The Glorifcation of Death


Is it just me or are we increasingly being inundated with RIP messages, tribute shows & advertisements that focus on the person that's passed away. We get told, of the celebrity's body of work, their nuances, scandals- and to conclude, they advise that this person was a quasi legend, and their death would mean that we've lost an integral part of the industry.

The deaths in the last couple of months, go on to prove it. Michael Jackson never seemed to shake the notion that he was Wacko Jacko and made headlines for his controversial life. When he died, we had the tribute concerts, the RIP status messages across Facebook, My space, on the Yahoo/Hotmail web pages. I seriously doubt that any person who had heard of the famous MJ, is not aware that he's passed away.

Then we had DJ Adam, once again the press wrote away to glory, and we found out what a wonder full person he was, having found the drug addiction. Pity he had an OD on prescription medicine.

Then we had Patrick Swayze, we're being fed more movies with him in it. Apart from Dirty Dancing, I can't remember any other movie of Mr Swayze. And yet we are told, he was an amazing celebrity, and his absence will be a great loss for the rest of the world. And of course, how he died: He lost his battle with cancer.

Remember when Lady Diana and Mother Theresa passed away within the span or a couple of days, there was more to cover on Lady Diana, which is why maybe in 2000 when Priyanka Chopra won the Ms World Title, she quoted Mother Theresa as her 'living' idol and went on to win the competition.

I guess the point I'm trying to make, is it seems to be that death has become the market's latest marketing tool. And while I reserve the right to know of someone's passing, I hate the fact that people spin it, and make profits out off a family's misery.

Not the things you say.

The thing about written words and spoken words are that the meanings alloted to each are different.

When something is written, the author, past having written the words has no control over who may read it and what they may interpret.

When something is spoken, I suppose it is similar, but spoken words allow the listener to comprehend what is not spoken as well. The tone of their voice, the nonchalance, the pauses for thinking.

I find I make faster decisions when someone speaks to me, I react faster to. The old suicide note, is probably the only written doc that would make me move as fast, needless to say, I have had the good fortune of never having had to read one and respond.

07 October 2009

The Sexes

  • A friend said she'd like to line up all the men that she's known all her life, and bring out a gun and shoot them. The same friend today, said that she wanted to get a new boyfriend and asked me for some tips.
  • A male friend was overheard saying this, "Don't waste your time on women, yaar. Use and throw, that's the life you want to lead. Why get engaged in all this nonsense with Love and etc".
  • 3 male friends proposed marriage to their girlfriends this week, one sucessfull and the other on hold.
  • A married woman had a fight with the girlfriend of the fella at work she had developed a crush on and had started messaging.
  • Another male friend revealed that he had been flirting sucessfully with his female boss till he playfull called her old, after which the messages ceased.

And so the union/battle of the sexes continue, every day and every week. It's interesting to note that I could write out this list in under 10 mins, which must mean that this information was already sorted and placed at the front of my mind ready to be recorded.

I'm having a peaceful week, all. No battles yet, for me.

05 October 2009

Another Goodbye

A friend died on Saturday of a drug overdose. He had a drug problem for the duration of my friendship with him, which would total three years shortly. They found him dead & alone, and informed his family.

And as it is with those that die young, he was smart, brilliant and a wonderful person to know. That is if I forget the mood swings that he would have, where he was known to suddenly get angry for no reasons. Other times, perhaps when it suited him to be angry, he was quiet, and calm joking about the situation that we were in.

Two main conversations that I had with him, I remember. One, where I thought I'd convinced him to go to rehab, and enlisted the help of another friend to take him there. And another where I was mean and hopelessly rude about the situation he was in and expressed my joint anger and disappointment with him over his failure to carry through with his promise.

It was then revealed to me, how he had sustained injuries on his hand and forehead being thrown out of a train on the way to Mumbai. He also mentioned that he had switched from what used to be weed, to injections and sniffing brown sugar- heroin. I remember his coat, contained his gear of needles and injections.

I told him I gave up, I'd tried to help him with the rehab, and he in turn failed me. So I told him that he was the only son, and the sole breadwinner in his family. And I could see him dying, after I spotted a patch of blood on his shirt. I told him that everyone knew why he ducked into empty rooms to inject himself. I told him it was only a matter of time. And I told him that he needed rehab, but since he was obviously too good, he could do just what ever he wanted and that I was giving up on even maintaining conversations with him.

And he responded saying that I was giving him a lecture, and he'd just poured his heart out to me and that he always thought I was a cool person, and maybe I was not being that. I told him I didn't care, because I knew what happened to people who cared. They got consumed, and they wasted time on something that would never flower.

And now he's dead. They tell me he was in prison for theft for awhile too. And I want to say goodbye. And as much as I tell myself that he couldn't be helped, I can't help but wish we did more.

And the only thing I hope for, is that his death inspires another dopehead to quit. To leave this naughty, fatal business and seek help. And that they get given help, and they find the strength to face their addiction.

02 October 2009

A smile

It was an important occasion yesterday, and in a different time and place, I suppose it would have marked a celebration of a relationship that would have, as of yesterday lasted a four year term.

Instead it was celebrated in silent thoughts, slow rolling crocodile tears, and most importantly alone. I don't think it was sadness, I think it was just a slow realization, that once again it really has ended.

I don't know how many times this one end has replicated itself in my blog posts, thoughts discarded only to have them sprout hopes like Medusa's head every time it was cut off. But I think it's over now, because it's quiet.

I have nothing left to say, I have no bad feelings for the other person and I certainly hold no regrets. I can smile and say it's gone, and know that I will never forget. Only that, I don't any longer have my emotions held hostage by someone who claims love.

And I can't think of a better feeling than that.