Since the internet revolution took off in 2006 the world has largely become a global village. In this global village migration from one part to another has almost become a phase in one’s life. You need to break away from your cozy Indian home at some point and spread your wings.
It maybe because of this, and due to the competitiveness that is instilled in students since they learn the alphabet that many students in India prefer to go abroad to study. The presence of Indian students abroad is quite sizeable as well; over 100,000 Indian students are studying in the US as of 2011. An Indian student at Harvard even joked that the last time he had heard that much Hindi was when he was in Mumbai.
And since we have a large part of our population studying abroad, we would be concerned if something was happening to them, or if their safety was jeopardized. In our concern we tend to overlook certain details and pay attention to only the fact that Indian students are being attacked.
We need to look at the bigger picture to realize that it isn’t just our students that are getting ‘attacked’, but students of all nationalities face equal threat to their security. Students prove easy targets for people who commit crime, as they are often out late and can take no major action on their own.
Students that come to India face the same danger as the Indian students that go abroad to pursue education. Therefore it makes more sense to look at why students are targeted, and remedy that, instead of crying foul play and sensationalizing the news.
We can take a leaf out the book of foreign governments, when the smallest incident of crime takes place in a country they issue a warning to their citizens. So when students are applying to study abroad we should make them aware of the dangers they might face, if there is reason to believe they might.
Colleges and schools should also take it upon themselves to set up a counseling center for students that wish to study abroad. Try and have programs that will educate them about the culture in the area. Parents also need to realize that the instance of crime in the UK and the US are higher than India, hence the chances that their children might be hurt or be victims of crime, is not necessarily due to their racial identity.
Students also need to be aware of which areas they should and shouldn’t visit at different times of the day. If you look at the Anuj Bidve case, he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. It was not a racially motivated crime. No place in the entire world is safe at all times of the day. Students need to be aware of this instead of going wild when they have flown the coop.
The Indian media also has an important role to play in informing parents and students of what really happens. If they publish sensationalized reports that will increase their viewership, they will generate unnecessary paranoia. This is exactly what we see happening today. An Indian student is as safe as any other student in that country. There may well be instances of crime against Indian students, but if you look at India you see it is no different, foreign students are targets of crime here.
I do not think it is fair to say that it isn’t safe only for Indian students.
Everyone runs the same risks; you need to be aware at all times and realize what you can and cannot do. It is crazy to live your life in fear of what may happen. We are all continuously taking risks, so if you have a dream or goal then take that leap of faith and be prepared for the free fall.
“All growth is a leap in the dark, a spontaneous unpremeditated act without benefit of experience” said Henry Miller and he was right. If you wish to live your life with no regrets or opportunities lost then I would encourage you to do the same.
Monday, February 27, 2012
The India flavor
There was never a doubt about it, even when I lived in the Gulf; the fact that I am an Indian was never alien to me. I went to an Indian school, took part in Republic day celebrations, Independence Day variety programs and stood up dutifully every time I heard the National Anthem.
When I moved here in the late 90’s thing were different, somehow everyone seems to believe that their culture is fading away, the feeling of being Indian is dying, and we were apparently being culturally colonized.
The older generation, some of them anyway, are of the opinion that because we dress differently and our lifestyle habits are changing we are shelving our Indianness and moving over to something we identify with more, ‘western culture’.
I am willing to bet that it is a person of that opinion in some high position at Inox in India who thought it would be a wise idea to play the national anthem before a movie. I highly doubt that fosters anything but slight irritation.
What the government, who claims that anything remotely western and not in their interest hurts Indian sentiment, needs to realize that just because one may not speak the language fluently or dress in something traditional every day, it doesn’t mean that they are any less patriotic than someone who does.
I am not of the opinion that my Indianness is something forced on me, I love this country for many reasons and am proud to be Indian. Some days it days it might be difficult for me to stand up tall and say I am proud as I have my own little wars with the country. That doesn’t mean I will be the first to raise my arms up and apply for a Portuguese passport and run. If you love something you need to love it inspite of and not because of.
Patriotism to me means different things than participating in a Republic day or standing when the national anthem plays, I believe it goes a little deeper than that. It extends to taking ownership of the country and the situation it is in, not littering on the street, participating in civic movements, being an active citizen and not sitting in a corner and complaining about the government but actually doing something about it.
People say that India is no longer a democracy in the true sense, well that isn’t because things change, it’s because we have changed. If you do not exercise your democratic rights then they cease to exist. People becoming indifferent and giving up of the country is more worrying to me than not attending a flag hoisting ceremony, or listening to English music and wear jeans instead of a sari.
Politicians and other fundamentalists need to stop and dig deeper if they think they can save Indian culture by enforcing a dress code and making regional languages compulsory at schools. The India flavor is something that is rooted in your love for the country and things it means to you. I think there is no way to force that on anyone, you can try but you will fail.
Mark Twain said “India is the cradle of the human race, the birthplace of human speech, the mother of history, the grandmother of legend, and the great grandmother of tradition. Our most valuable and most instructive materials in the history of man are treasured up in India only”. So fret not, I doubt that anything will be able to take the India flavor out of India.
When I moved here in the late 90’s thing were different, somehow everyone seems to believe that their culture is fading away, the feeling of being Indian is dying, and we were apparently being culturally colonized.
The older generation, some of them anyway, are of the opinion that because we dress differently and our lifestyle habits are changing we are shelving our Indianness and moving over to something we identify with more, ‘western culture’.
I am willing to bet that it is a person of that opinion in some high position at Inox in India who thought it would be a wise idea to play the national anthem before a movie. I highly doubt that fosters anything but slight irritation.
What the government, who claims that anything remotely western and not in their interest hurts Indian sentiment, needs to realize that just because one may not speak the language fluently or dress in something traditional every day, it doesn’t mean that they are any less patriotic than someone who does.
I am not of the opinion that my Indianness is something forced on me, I love this country for many reasons and am proud to be Indian. Some days it days it might be difficult for me to stand up tall and say I am proud as I have my own little wars with the country. That doesn’t mean I will be the first to raise my arms up and apply for a Portuguese passport and run. If you love something you need to love it inspite of and not because of.
Patriotism to me means different things than participating in a Republic day or standing when the national anthem plays, I believe it goes a little deeper than that. It extends to taking ownership of the country and the situation it is in, not littering on the street, participating in civic movements, being an active citizen and not sitting in a corner and complaining about the government but actually doing something about it.
People say that India is no longer a democracy in the true sense, well that isn’t because things change, it’s because we have changed. If you do not exercise your democratic rights then they cease to exist. People becoming indifferent and giving up of the country is more worrying to me than not attending a flag hoisting ceremony, or listening to English music and wear jeans instead of a sari.
Politicians and other fundamentalists need to stop and dig deeper if they think they can save Indian culture by enforcing a dress code and making regional languages compulsory at schools. The India flavor is something that is rooted in your love for the country and things it means to you. I think there is no way to force that on anyone, you can try but you will fail.
Mark Twain said “India is the cradle of the human race, the birthplace of human speech, the mother of history, the grandmother of legend, and the great grandmother of tradition. Our most valuable and most instructive materials in the history of man are treasured up in India only”. So fret not, I doubt that anything will be able to take the India flavor out of India.
Thursday, June 16, 2011
Thousand Apologies
To say the least I have let this blog rot in cyberspace, adding not much in way of matter or giving it the least bit of attention. For that I am sorry .. sorry to you last courageous reader that stayed and hoped for this day . This day being the day I wake up realized I had a lot to say and remembered that I had a blog to do all of that ..
So I am back to put my super opinionated posts ,random ramblings and things that I would like to believe have some semblance to poetry ..
So here's to this year, the new beginnings , the rantings and ravings of this vivacious mad woman and lots more !
Viva(raises her shot glass that is filled with feni)
So I am back to put my super opinionated posts ,random ramblings and things that I would like to believe have some semblance to poetry ..
So here's to this year, the new beginnings , the rantings and ravings of this vivacious mad woman and lots more !
Viva(raises her shot glass that is filled with feni)
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Sand timer
The pale green silent room lies dead,
The mould seems to grow from his leg .
The muffled snoring and things in jars lay bathed in a slow golden haze,
Time here seems to pause, stories to be told and unfold but there is no one to tell.
So they gather moss in the recesses of my mind, or hers, or his or maybe another kind.
When the steady beating of the rain kept us spell bound,
We lay up here and forgot the songs of the birds and kiss of the earth.
Our memories never served us well, them our masters, we their slaves, disappeared.
Now no one can tell the tale.
The mould seems to grow from his leg .
The muffled snoring and things in jars lay bathed in a slow golden haze,
Time here seems to pause, stories to be told and unfold but there is no one to tell.
So they gather moss in the recesses of my mind, or hers, or his or maybe another kind.
When the steady beating of the rain kept us spell bound,
We lay up here and forgot the songs of the birds and kiss of the earth.
Our memories never served us well, them our masters, we their slaves, disappeared.
Now no one can tell the tale.
Monday, August 2, 2010
Coffee spelt
Stories that lived within the walls
Spilt forth like spells that wrapped you in
the corner of warmth that chose you well .
You rode high on the swirls rising from the dark puddle in your mug and..
You spilt forth like a spell unleashed upon the world.
Fly high and let the you that is , be.
Spilt forth like spells that wrapped you in
the corner of warmth that chose you well .
You rode high on the swirls rising from the dark puddle in your mug and..
You spilt forth like a spell unleashed upon the world.
Fly high and let the you that is , be.
Saturday, January 23, 2010
My last drop
The room spun in and out of vision fading into black and then flashes of bright light coming from the lamp above my bed.The room reeked of the green walls, of spirit. Rocking back and forth, a cold sweat slowly dripped from down the side of my face and down my spine.This was like waking up from a nightmare that refused to vanished when you opened your eyes. There wasn't a sound expect for the drops of water spattering on the polished floor somewhere down the hall.The silence was beginning to deafen me , resounding through the hollow pathways.I try to jump off the bed but the very effort makes the images swirl and fade.
My head begins to throb, and I can feel the contents of my stomach rise in my throat.
My limbs just wouldnt move no matter how I tried.My arms weighed a ton. A glimpse of white and heavy on my arm, bruises scarred my other arm and legs. I touched my forehead and felt a scab.My head filled with the sound of screeching tires and blinding lights made me squint. She was there wearing that white shirt I gave her, and the perfume I remember from my childhood.Tears welled in my eyes , my hands went cold. Where was she , why wasn't she here. I could feel the cold floor against my cheek but my bones were colder still, the chill oozing out of my toes.
I see a door, slowly I try to pull myself toward it my body groaning as it moved.It swirls and fades.
Ice cold water hits my face, I could feel the cuts burn.A metal chair met my bones with its icy steel fingers. A face in front of mine saying things I could barely hear, a photo pushed into my hands , she was there looking happy. The look of confusion on my face conveyed my desire to see her to the face in front of me. She says she has left and will never come back and its all my fault.
Now I realize, it sinks in that it was us in the car, she was coming with me to the hospital, where they would take care of me . Pangs of fear grip me with visions of us in a happier place, with happier people.It swirls it fades.
Ice cold water again , this time it stings less, there is another picture of a baby , one of those before birth ones .She was mine she says and she too has gone .It doesn't swirl, it doesn't fade. There is an emptiness, my stomach hits the chair or it seems to. I back into a corner ,they leave.
I remember the flashes of light, screeching tires. Alone and now completely sober my reasons to live are gone and this time too I'm to blame .
So much for my last drop.
My head begins to throb, and I can feel the contents of my stomach rise in my throat.
My limbs just wouldnt move no matter how I tried.My arms weighed a ton. A glimpse of white and heavy on my arm, bruises scarred my other arm and legs. I touched my forehead and felt a scab.My head filled with the sound of screeching tires and blinding lights made me squint. She was there wearing that white shirt I gave her, and the perfume I remember from my childhood.Tears welled in my eyes , my hands went cold. Where was she , why wasn't she here. I could feel the cold floor against my cheek but my bones were colder still, the chill oozing out of my toes.
I see a door, slowly I try to pull myself toward it my body groaning as it moved.It swirls and fades.
Ice cold water hits my face, I could feel the cuts burn.A metal chair met my bones with its icy steel fingers. A face in front of mine saying things I could barely hear, a photo pushed into my hands , she was there looking happy. The look of confusion on my face conveyed my desire to see her to the face in front of me. She says she has left and will never come back and its all my fault.
Now I realize, it sinks in that it was us in the car, she was coming with me to the hospital, where they would take care of me . Pangs of fear grip me with visions of us in a happier place, with happier people.It swirls it fades.
Ice cold water again , this time it stings less, there is another picture of a baby , one of those before birth ones .She was mine she says and she too has gone .It doesn't swirl, it doesn't fade. There is an emptiness, my stomach hits the chair or it seems to. I back into a corner ,they leave.
I remember the flashes of light, screeching tires. Alone and now completely sober my reasons to live are gone and this time too I'm to blame .
So much for my last drop.
Sunday, November 8, 2009
A sight among others
Lying on the floor blowing bubbles at the ceiling
Watching them break into me
The sight of dark glass
The chill on the floor that night
A girl too old for her dress
The purple bouncing off the chair ..
The sight of clouds and the weight of them bearing down,upside down
The fragance of fresh earth newly bathed ..
Mist and sun slowly swirl
Watching them break into me
The sight of dark glass
The chill on the floor that night
A girl too old for her dress
The purple bouncing off the chair ..
The sight of clouds and the weight of them bearing down,upside down
The fragance of fresh earth newly bathed ..
Mist and sun slowly swirl
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