SPS 'Face'-s Attack

Moment I switched on the television yesterday, I was in for a shock. SPS Rathore was attacked by a man posing as a journalist. News channels kept on rewinding the video clip of Rathore's face being stabbed thrice in succession within seconds. The culprit is said to have acted under severe depression. He was unable to bear the injustice ever since Ruchika Girhotra case was highlighted in the media.

As an onlooker, I was at first shocked and my immediate reaction was 'Oh my God, how brutal!'

On second thought, the feminist sense took over. There was a secret delight in seeing Rathore in pain. I am sure this pain was in no way comparable to the one Ruchika and her family had to bear for so many years. Poor Ruchika, I empathise with her. And so do others who are human beings.

I feel sorry for the stabber, Utsav Sharma, too. The despicable crime and delay in meting out justice for the dead victim perhaps was too much for him to bear in his state of depression.

I am sure there are many who must gnashing their teeth in anger at Rathore's crime, his smile, his smirks and even his face. Which is why one of these had to bear the brunt- this time, his face. SPS Rathore has become an emblem of unbridled power and the gory misuse of authoriy.

If our judicial system fails to provide speedy action and instill faith in general public, it wouldn't be surprising to see more and more people taking law into their own hands.

Till then, let's pray and have faith in the system.

Whose Mumbai?

Mumbai is special for me because I got my first posting there. I cannot forget the delight of travelling in local trains, the monsoon, the sea, prawns, the malls of Navi Mumbai, the Ganesh festival and most of all, the people.

The spirit of Mumbai is almost palpable.

Which is why I feel sad at the way MNS and Shiv Sena are going about their business of poisoning innocent minds in their race for capturing the Marathi vote bank. I am reminded of Mohammad Bin Tughlaq and his so called Tughlaqi commands and decisions which always backfired. Is there lack of genuine concern that so much politics is being cooked over the artifical fire of regionalism? Are words like poverty, illiteracy, unemployment, human trafficking, child labour archaic? If MNS and Shiv Sena argue that they are fighting for rights of Marathis, I beg to differ because one's right is another's duty. In giving rights to Marathis, these fanatic bodies are stealing those from non- Marathis. What will become of being an Indian?

Its time for the Marathis to stand up and defend the rights of their brethren instead of remaining quiet about the dirty politics that is being played on their name.

I admire people like Shahrukh Khan, Amir Khan, Sachin Tendulkar, Amitabh Bacchan, Mukesh Ambani, Rahul Gandhi and others who have the guts to speak the truth. Fanatics can do only one thing best- fan the flames of fanaticism. As educated and well aware Indians, people from all over the country must not let narrow concerns govern us. Being silent isn't being brave but akin to supporting injustice.

When I am feeling blue...

Sometimes I hate it sooooooooooo much.

There was a time I used to love trying out new dishes. Oh, those were the days!

Cooking has now become more of a daily monotonous ritual & I no longer derive the same sense of triumph I used to earlier.

Much to almost an open-mouthed shock of my mother, I first landed up in kitchen after my plus two exams to try my hand at Shahi Paneer with the aid of a cook book. This was done solely to impress my parents. The rest , as they say,  was history. I earned lots of appreciation, genuine or from a sense of courtesy, I have no idea. It inflated my pride and I became a regular in experimenting with one or two dishes almost everyday.
By the time I finished my post graduation, I guess I could invite and cook for five to seven people at a time. So much for my confidence at culinary skills.

Employment and marriage interevened and with these, a clock controlled routine.  Job on the one side, hubby on the other- each demanding my attention- and I in between, trying to manage both the fronts with elan like every other super woman.

Now if interesting news or programmes grab my attention; if I simply wish to while away the hours lazily; if there are deadlines to be met or if I do not wish to cook...

I shriek in the kitchen-   yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa cooking!!!

O God, produce an Alladin's genie to take care of it please!

And then after some time...

I feel like trying out a new dish and  go back enthusiastically to COOKING.The appreciation on the face of the usurper of my food is a reward I cannot let go in the hands of any outsider on hire except in an emergency.

Sunday Syndrome

Has it ever happened with you- to awake very late from the cosy confines of a warm blanket and not to feel like doing anything?
Recently I fell victim to a sort of  'hallucination'

The whole day I relaxed and called up a few of my friends to enquire their howabouts and wondered aloud why were they in office even on a Sunday...

I relished my favourite cuisines without taking care to cook. The prompt 'deliveryman' arrived within 20 minutes of receiving the order.

It was Sunday of course so what was the hurry... The 23rd of January, 2010. Oh, why aren't there two or three Sundays in the calendar that we follow!

One of my colleagues had called up at 10 to find out if I was unwell and I said 'yes' to ward her off...

The next morning I readied up hurriedly as usual for my office when the newspaper declared loudly- THE SUNDAY TIMES OF INDIA

Oh, I had messed  Saturday up with Sunday...(Not that I regretted it except cooking up an excuse for a leave from the office)

A New Beginning

I've wanted to write for quite some time now. What held me is a good question to ask. Two factors: laziness and forgetfulness. I vow to continue this time unlike the last when I was here but for the fact that I later forgot my password as well as email id with which I had registered as a beginner on blogger.com

Is it too late to start or rather, re-start? No. So I am happy to announce:

Folks, I am back to doing what I had once loved as a teenager- maintaining a diary. The only difference will be its online manifestation now.

Hope to connect well with fellow bloggeres who are generating creative ripples in the waters of blogging.

Happy New Year to all of you.

Cheers

Sonal