The India that I see…

They say it right when they say humans are complex beings, and I have come to believe that we Indians are the most complex of the lot. I have not traveled the world or made friends across the races, yet I cannot help but wonder at the amount of passion, energy, craziness and goodness that we carry around in our bloods.­­­

People have not left any stone unturned in trying to explain India in the best of their words, and so I am not even trying to venture into doing it again, not because I fear sounding monotonous, but because I belong to the generation that has very conveniently chosen to forget that they belong to the place that gave the world the whole concept of ‘karma’ which was later pronounced ‘bitch by the western world.

The most fascinating trait of Indians is our double faced nature. We are so flexible and welcoming that we end up forgetting the difference between the guest and the host and in our efforts to learn, imbibe and to follow the ‘developed’ people, like how curiosity killed the cat, we killed our identities.

I am not somebody who has traveled far and wide, and in my twenty something years of existence, neither have I acquired undue wisdom to be able to talk about complex things like relationships and culture, but as I look at my small little world, and the bigger world that revolves around it,I could not help but gape in amazement at some observations. I find Indians the most emotional beings (after dogs, that is), and also the most expressive among mankind that exists, and yet, we have the least amount of freedom of public display of affection. They call it ‘morally wrong’. So then, is being secretive and doing things undercover ‘the right’ thing to do?My mind somehow doesn’t digest this logic. To me no words can substitute the warmth of a hug.

How I wish they taught us how to judge people and differentiate between good and bad rather than right and wrong in schools. How I wish they told us why it was important to stay away from things and people that hurt you rather than preparing us to ‘follow’ any ‘fall’ into place. How I wish they taught us that the most important thing in life is to be happy, for only happy souls can spread happiness around them. And I wonder why they never told us that each of us took birth on the face of earth to make a difference, however small and that everyone mattered.

I came across this situation of a person recently, where he had achieved everything in life (according to plan, that was carefully laid out after great consideration and reflection),but could only manage the company of few empty liquor bottles to share the excitement and joy of achievements and the anxiety that preceded and succeeded it. He wept away saying he was ‘lonely’ and that ‘the loneliness was killing him’. While I listened to the sad laments, one question kept flashing in my head (though it was totally insensitive and selfish, but could not help it).I wondered how he could not manage to make a single friend yet, and not being able to contain the confusion within myself, I ended up asking him the same. He replied in a simple single sentence, which spoke a lot and put me in an endless array of thoughts. He said ‘I don’t have the confidence to speak to people’. Reflecting on the sentence in depth, I figured out that major part of our society is like that. We Indians seldom try to engage in conversation with strangers, even if we are brimming with confidence, thanks to the good old teaching from kindergarten. Suddenly my memory started gushing with visuals of the school assembly, where kids used to get fever at the thought of appearing on stage and talking in public. Then they started coming up with activities like debates and group discussions, but did that help? If they did, then why did the Indian education system produce highly intellectual and qualified youth who were getting ‘killed’ by ‘loneliness’ and ‘lack of confidence’ to make a conversation.

While there are hundred and one things to ramble and wonder about, there are hundred and two things to be nostalgic and proud about in India. The need of the hour for our youth is to strike the perfect balance of understanding what to be proud of and how to keep up the pride, and most importantly, realizing that they can make a difference, however big or small!

THE LONELY CROWD

As I approach the first anniversary of my relationship with the garden city of India, I decided to give it an acknowledgement, for being the city that showed me the joy of being independent, content, and dreamy and obviously the luxury of lovely weather.

I don’t know anyone who has lived in Bangalore and has not had a secret affair with the extremely romantic and cheesy weather that makes you want to curl up into a ball inside a blanket (It definitely gets better if you have someone to pamper you).I am talking about a city that can spoil your guts and at the same time put you on your toes day and night.

While I could draw my conclusion (my version of understanding I mean) in less than a month about Mumbai city, it took me a whole year to even start comprehending Bangalore.She was so unique and mysterious (in a very naughty and sweet way) to me that I had to learn a whole new language to even start the communication with her, and for me, I loved the thrill and excitement of getting to know her better each day.

At the first sight, this place looked like an illusion, a dream, with pretty faces and youth everywhere. I saw no pain, no misery. Everything lookedpolished, neat, pretty and classy. I wandered about in amazement, for I had not seen lives this perfect. And then the obvious happened. The darker side unveiled. As I got closer to the soul of the city, I found a bunch of happy faces, living in a crowd, carrying lonely minds and frustrated souls. I could relate to the ‘life in a metro’ shown in movies better now. Here we have ambitious youth, striving to find themselves as a part of the numerous corporate giants, that spoil you with perks and load you with foreign money. Here we also have the generation that have great stories to tell, about culture,tradition,art,craft and much more,which sometimes cease to exist today.

There is some style to this city, which cannot be categorized or defined. The style does not come from the majority of young crowd and high paid jobs alone. It also does not come from the posh restaurants and pubs in every nook and corner of a street. The style is so contagious that it takes over your life. Hence we call it lifestyle. This city gives me happiness that Mumbai could not give,majorly because I did not see poverty and struggle. I saw prosperity.But was there happiness?...that remains a question still.

It felt like technology ran in the nerves of each and everyone here. Everybody is learning, doing, creating and achieving something new in technology every single minute, giving it the status of ‘startup capital ’.This ever hungry city enjoys and appreciates food like no other place.Thanks to the young population, open to new experiments and variety of tastes, Bangalore has been the most welcoming place to almost all food giants including ‘taco bell’ and ‘au bou pain’. Hence, it swept the title of food capital of India. I had a very simple explanation to the Bangalorean love and obsession for food, which is the lack of other comfort zones like beaches and the stress that makes you want to resort to the comfort of food every now and then. The basic underlying fact here being that everybody wants to feel good, but they mostly fail to figure out their path to true happiness. In the efforts to find it, most of us end up conquering everything that gives us comfort and luxury, but there still remain some things that cannot be bought with all the money in the world like companionship and love. I see longing in the eyes, broken smiles and empty hearts.I see lonely crowds.

HAPPY REALIZATION

Fashion ,the  multimillion dollar business that has only grown to bigger numbers and might over the years, even through the so called ‘recession’!, like they say is an illusion. An illusion that has so many ‘real’ lives and struggles camouflaged into glitters.

I carried dreams of gold on my shoulder as I walked into the ultimate destination for any kid aspiring to be ‘in fashion’. Though it was not planned, I somehow knew I wanted to be there and do it, all I knew was that I was passionate, loved colours and good things happens to good people.

It did not come as a surprise or to anyone who knew me or the ‘world of fashion’ well that I was a misfit in the whole scenario. I was outdated, did not own a Gucci bag or 100 shades of lipstick or eye shadow matching every dress, I did not have a mother who attended kitty parties ,I did not have a toned physique and I ate like a pig, hogged on anything and everything that made me happy without keeping track of calorie count. I had no clue of the difference between Manish Malhotra or Arora.I could only look at those ‘beautiful’ creations called the bunch of ‘rich kids’ and admire them. Now when I look back at that phase in my life I realize that though I envied all the glamour, I never longed to be one of them. I loved myself the way I was, and I knew I would put it off one day with the grace that no richness in the world can afford. Hence, I decided to gang up with the other outcasts, the normal human beings, who felt the same way as I did, out of place and suffocated, but never small in terms of self respect.

I met some people with amazing conviction and will power in my four year long journey through the bumpy terrain in the world of fashion. Looking at their perseverance gave me enormous strength to hang on, take a deep breath, tell yourself it is ok ,and move ahead. The easiest thing to do would have been to fake it and try to fit in. The toughest thing being to accept all the crap that you were being subjected to and still not care and just be yourself. As i wore the convocation robe and collected the million dollar certificate, I gave a silent HI5 in my head to all those who chose the latter. I wanted to shout it out to them ...’yes!  We made it, without head help high up and we did not make it any small’.

I took me a while to realize that the bunch of ‘real people’ who were constantly struggling to be real in the fake world of show off has gradually become my family. Though I was excited about entering the big new world (apparently real), and being on my own missed everything that kept me up, awake, alert and on my toes. I missed the tiger that roared inside me all the time.

Now, as i complete a year in the ‘real world’, I earn just enough to survive and live each day with a new dream in my eyes, on my own conditions, in my own way, while my friends earn to live their dream life .I thank all the odd things that came my way and all the awesome people I met a year ago ,that  gives me the strength to  stand with my head help high up still and have the guts to tell myself ’better things are yet to happen’.