A Footprint Of Service

A quote from February 1st issue of TOI;

"Gates has slammed Italian prime minister Silvio Berlusconi for wasting money on hair transplants instead of helping the starved... Gates told the newspaper 'Suddeutsche Zeitung' rich people spend a lot more money on their own problems - like baldness - than they do to fight malaria."

This set me thinking, irrespective of how rich we are, how many of us think about the underprivileged?

A sad fact - I don't. I am sure most of my batchmates from college or youth belonging to my age group don't think about such stuff either (a select few do and I do not deny that) almost all of them are busy nurturing their own ambitions.

The reason is simple enough. We are trying so hard, to establish our own identity in the society, to make sure that we can eke out a living after we pass out of college, trying to swim towards the elusive 'Indian Dream', that in this struggle we tend to block out every aspect of the society that is beyond our sphere and utility. But this reason isn't good enough!

Why don't we consider social entrepreneurship as a career or volunteer for NGO's in the social service sector.

Maybe it's time we kept aside our dreams of hefty paychecks, big houses and flashy cars aside for some while and looked beyond our own ambitions. It's time we stopped complaining how unfair life can be. It's time we do something to really help those in need of a better life.

Dheel De...

The strong wind, blowing through the hair

All the terraces peppered with men, women and (especially) children.

The fluid motion of kite up in the sky.

The manja tugging at the fingers.

The shouts, screams, catcalls and jeers of the victorious party and the elegant fall of the vanquished kite in the jungle of cement and concrete.

And the joy of finding a fallen kite.

That sums up the festival of Sankranti in Ahmedabad. A beautiful experience for a metro guy like me, who flew a kite for the very first time in his life!!!

Yes, I'm Very Much Alive...

And after defying the murderous exams and recovering from the post exam hangover I am back to blogging.

I'll start by wishing all of you a very Happy New Year. There couldn't be a better start-of-the-year than this for me. Why? Because the new year itself is reason enough to blog, and this time the cause of blogging was strengthened by the 'idiotic' controversy!!!

The only comment I would make would be

1. The overall story of the film is completely different from the book (claims that 70% of the story from the book has been lifted directly is, according to me, baseless)
2. The timing of the controversy only makes it clear that Chetan Bhagat knows how to get his book sold, if you know what I mean!
3. Vidhu Vinod Chopra needs to join an anger management program and Bhagat needs a better lawyer (and a magnifying glass to read the fine print).

And yes, I have read the book and seen the movie.

Though I have nothing against the author, I do feel a person like him, who speaks about a principles and reforms (in his columns), shouldn't have resorted to such publicity tactics.

Moving on, time for some shameless self promotion.

Please remember you are always welcome to send me a mail about anything you wish to express - suggestions, complaints, requests - regarding the blog, to arjblogger@yahoo.com

You can subscribe to the blog feeds by clicking on posts/comments in the Subscribe To side bar or if you are a Blogger member then you can follow this blog by clicking on the Follow button in the Followers side bar.

My 140 or less words of wisdom are now available on my twitter page which you can follow by clicking on the Follow Me button in the Twitter side bar.

Remember, your opinion counts!

With that, this is ARJuna, your friendly neighbourhood blogger signing off.

P.S. Did I mention that this is my 50th post. Sigh! It's great to be back.

Just Think And Answer: An Experiment

What would you do if, for one complete day, you were confined to your home and did not have the two most important luxuries to entertain/engross you: the TV and the PC???

Now just think, improvise and provide your answer in as much detail as you can (no dull responses like - I would play indoor games, go for a stroll, work on the broken tap, etc.).

The idea is, your answers should be interesting, creative and yet close enough to the reality, so that we can have a peek into your twisted little minds... Muaahaahaa!

Why I came up with this crazy post??? The reason is, me and my family are just recuperating from a eleven hour power cut! I will not deny the possibility that the lack of electronic entertainment may have affected my brain, but as the title suggests this is only an experiment.

I would sincerely appreciate if all of my readers would participate and respond with gusto (even suggestions and complaints are welcome). Your response will determine if I should continue with the 'Just Think And Answer' initiative.

If I Were A Baby Again

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 4; the fourth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.

It happened to be the other day,

that I was passing by memory lane,

just then, across my mind, flashed a thought; a stray,

What if I were a baby again.

A voice from somewhere within nudged me to walk through the lane. It wouldn't be that easy I said to myself; sweet memories will rekindle the lamps of joy and old wounds will be reopened. I could lose myself in the labyrinthine passages and by-lanes.

"Are you afraid to face your past?", the voice asked.

"No!", I said

"Then make up your mind!"

“I’ll do it.”, I answered after a moments reflection.

“After you, sir” said the gentleman inside me.

As I made my way through the little galli, I heard more voices, this time from the outside, as I trudged further houses began to appear on either side. The voices weren’t just voices any longer, they belonged to the human forms that I spotted from afar, whose hazy outlines became increasingly solid as I approached.

As I approached the crowd of milling ‘human forms’ I was taken aback, these weren’t just any humans, these were people whom I had known or still knew since my childhood. Many of them were the ones with whom I had lost contact along the way. I suddenly felt guilty. I couldn’t make eye contact, not that it mattered - to them, I was invisible. They just walked past me or saw right through me, I dunno why but this made me feel even more guilty.

Trying hard to ignore the ignorance of the ones I had forgotten until now, I trudged ahead. I turned my attention to the houses. I had passed dozens of them but it was only now that I really noticed the strong waves of emotions emanating from every door, window and even every crack. I went near one, there were sounds of squealing laughter and commotion, I looked through the window to receive another shock, it was my childhood home and there I was celebrating my 5th birthday with loads of friends.As I stood there I smiled, laughed and jumped with joy as my 5 year old self cut the cake.

From there I ran to every window, each window showed me, in reverse order, the most important moments of my childhood life. Some happy, some sad, some that made me learn the most important lessons in life.

Finally I came to the very last window of the very last house on Memory Lane. I peeked in to see a tiny form wrapped in cloth sleeping beside it’s mother in what seemed to be a recuperating room of a maternity hospital. I could see the joy twinkle in the mother’s eyes…in my mother’s eyes. As I looked away from that window I realized I was crying as well.

Wiping away my tears, I stared at the dead end, there was a small fountain near the high wall marking the end of the lane.

The voice inside me asked “So now you have a choice, you can choose to be a baby again and relive or even change your moments of childhood or just walk back along the path you came and go on living the rest of your life, what will it be?”.

I thought for just a moment and firmly replied “No.”

Why, you would ask? Well if my childhood had not been the way it had turned out to be I would not be the person I am. Today, I may not be perfect but I am happy with the life that I am living and the people with whom I am associated. I would not want to change it for anything in the world.

That does not mean I did not learn anything from my trip down memory lane. I now, would certainly try to get in touch with the people whom I had lost contact with. I would apologize to those whom I had disheartened or let down in the past and thank those who helped or shared joy and happiness with me along the way.

At last, my steps I decided to retrace,

After witnessing the years gone by.

The past I had refused to embrace,

for childhood's rightful place was in my mind's eye.

The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.

Diary Of A Woman

It started out as a doodle but the end result is much more than just that.

I am not an artist nor an art connoisseur, I try to reflect on paper, be it in writing or through sketches, what I feel about the world around me.

I will not bore you with details like what I felt while creating this masterpiece (!!!), What it symbolises, the various 'metaphors' involved, the medium I used (it's just a pencil sketch on a page from an exercise book, duhh!!!) like the other artists do.

Rather, I am interested in knowing what you understand or perceive from this sketch and what does it tell you???

The Indian Dream

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 3; the third edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-A-Ton

I have lived outside the country for most of my childhood years. While I spent my precious little adolescent years in the big bang city of Mumbai. In what little life I have lived I have been able to do what few people of my age have done, look at India from perspective of an outsider.

My Indian dream has shifted shape and changed colours over the years as I have grown from an innocent kid to a silently rebellious adolescent and now a more mature young adult.

Here I try to trace and chronicle that overcharging dream.

An Innocent Dream:

Being away from the real India and with little knowledge that I had about it from my yearly vacations to Mumbai, History and Geography textbooks and Rudyard Kipling’s stories, everything was just a passing dream a month long respite from daily routine, no school and freedom to do whatever I wished.

It was where I loved getting pampered by my grandparents, listening to the older children narrate ghost stories sitting in the society garden, being awed by the magnitude of devotees at the temple and watching the world go by from the window of a local train.

Innocence of childhood allowed me to experience the people, places, aromas and colours around me without any inhibitions.

A Shattered Dream:

I moved to Mumbai in my early teens. That’s when I got to experience the real thing. It was no more just a vacation, it was real life.

As I grew up in the big bad city, I realised a few things I hadn’t noticed before. Time and chhutta (change) were precious commodities and nobody was generous enough to lend you either. “All Indians are my brothers and sisters” was just another line from a long forgotten pledge, in reality the state boundaries not only separated the states but also they also alienated you from the Haryanvi vendor who sold you veggies, South Indian coconut seller whose coconut water quenched your parched throat and Maharashtrian dabbawallah who brought your daily tiffin. The adolescents like me, considered to be either rote-learning machines or temperamental hooligans, were never to be taken seriously.

I was enraged and frustrated at what I saw, heard and felt. I was an outcast not belonging to any community or region or even age group. I couldn’t do anything about the wrongs nor could I find the rights.

A Reawakening:

As life moved on many events occurred, which forced me to change my perspective. The Jessica Lall murder case made me understand that the masses still understood the difference between right and wrong, justice and prejudice and did not want to remain mere bystanders. The 26/11 taught me that humanity could be found among the very people, who I thought to be indifferent, in the darkest of times. Youngsters who work for charity, spreading environmental awareness and many other issues in NGOs made me realize that we, the youth, could bring about a change and gain the respect we deserved from the society. Such and many more lessons I have learnt and am still to learn in coming years.

In a way I have awakened to the one thing that drives us all – Hope. I have hope that India will turn out better than what it was and is with the efforts of all those who have a vision for India, of their own, their own Indian dream.

The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following

Blog-a-Ton.

Fully Faaltoo Flu...

Yesterday morning, as usual, I was heading to catch the train to go to college and the railway station was a sight to behold. All the people awaiting the train could easily be divided into three distinct types,

1. The Surgeons: These are the ones who just have buy anything that's just been introduced in the market, hence the green surgical masks. Moreover, they think, using a hanky is soooo...down market. These types do things the way they have to be done - correctly (or the way they think is correct).
2. The Dacoits: This category of people detest 'fizool kharch' (unnecessary expenses) and hence prefer a more subtle way of avoiding unhygienic elements. These types hate show-shining and prefer to be an inconspicuous part of the crowd.
3. The Unmentionables: These people vehemently refuse to believe all kinds of media hype. They have complete trust in their immune system, preferring to breathe in air (and everything that comes with it) rather than suffocating their vital organs by covering their face. Strangely they feel, it's the ears that need protection and choose to plug 'em with their handy mobile earpieces!

By now you must have realised what I'm talking about. For those who haven't (get yourself checked, your brain is missing the receptors that detect sarcasm and dry humour), I'm talking about the measures that people are taking to avoid swine flu, while some use physical barriers, others prefer mental ignorance!

by ARJuna

But wait there's more...

College...now that was a completely different scenario.

Guys who didn't want to lose their macho status refused to wear any kind of protection. The overcautious ones tied handkerchiefs around their necks cleverly, so that it served dual purpose - One, they could quickly cover their mouths and noses if any one were to sneeze or cough in their midst. Two, otherwise it just looked cool hanging around their necks!

The girls, who did not want to look un-ladylike, just covered their petite little faces with their petite little hankies. While the petite little thing (the hanky that is...) failed to cover their mouths and noses at the same time, I was left wondering if these girls were really avoiding the flu or just trying to hide a newly sprouted pimple?!?!

This was just to bring comic relief to those otherwise worried minds. In no way am I taking the present situation lightly nor would I advise you to do so, do take the necessary precautions (masks, hankies et al). But please avoid heeding to or spreading rumours, do not panic unnecessarily (you may end up suffering from hypertension or blood pressure rather than the flu) as Swine Flu is completely curable, just keep a lookout for the symptoms (for yourself and dear ones) and get a check up if in doubt.