Learn to clean up your mess

Note - My little cousin sister of three years recently learned to say sorry when she does something wrong. The next thing my masi (aunt) is teaching her is to clean up the mess she makes after playing with her toys. Okay, now, go ahead, read the post.

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As a part of my journalism course, I've got a chance to visit Bhopal and see the place where the world's biggest ever industrial tragedy took place in 1982. Frankly speaking, it's a trip. And I would have preferred to visit some beach or go camping to hills as a part of my trip. But the discovery of some very disturbing facts made me convince that I should not miss the trip to this not-so-happening place. A lot has happened there which we need to be aware of.

For people who don't know, Union Carbide Factory, a franchise of a US company came to India with the intention of setting up a fertilizer factory in Bhopal.

The Indian government was happy. They were happy that foreign investment and revenue was coming in. They were happy that good quality fertilizers would be available to our farmers. What they did not expect to receive in the bargain was a seething loss of millions of lives.

Twenty-five years have passed since that night of terror and death in Bhopal, which saw a cloud of deadly gases explode out of a faulty tank in the pesticide factory and silently spread into the homes of sleeping people. It was a night which has never ended.

Interestingly, the tragedy occurred because of a very, very minor fault, i.e. of a gas leakage. The gas stored in the tank was supposed to be stored at a temp of minus five degrees or less, for which proper refrigeration was provided. Till one fine day, the then-CEO of company, Warren Andrews decided to turn off the refrigeration valve in June 1984 as the maintenance costs were crossing their budget.

Although several safety warnings were issued to the factory, no heed was paid to them. And then, on the night of December 3, 1984 when all the workers had returned to their homes, the gas valve started leaking around 12 am. At that point of time, it had 45,000 kg of poisonous gas which was unleashed on the sleeping city of Bhopal. The temperature in the valve had reached a good 45 degree celsius.

I do not need to get into all the details, as I believe that my informed readers do have an idea about this tragedy. It will be suffice to say that people were choked to death in their sleep, pregnant women suffered sudden miscarriages, lung cancer, burning sensation in eyes, breathlessness et al.

It was India's very own Hiroshima and Nagasaki. People born in that area of Bhopal still suffer from deadly breathing diseases, lung cancers and women still end up losing their child while it's still in their womb.

On that fateful night, the CEO was arrested, released on bail and flied to Delhi via a State-owned plane from where he was secretly departed to US, never to return again. The factory is today owned by Dow Jones, one of the biggest players in world economy. The current CEO still lives lavishly in sub urban New York and is indifferent to the tragedy.

The company was asked to pay damages to the victims. After 12 years of long legal battle, the company shelled out 12,000 to the kins of deceased. Rs 12,000 each, was the price paid for millions of innocent lives lost.

Interestingly, the govt today does not hesitate to announce compensation of Rs 1 lakh to Rs 5 lakh even in some minor rail accident. And the world's biggest industrial tragedy got weighed at 12,000 grands wonly.

I wonder if a similar incident would have taken place in US in some Indian owned company. Would it's Indian CEO be able to escape in the same manner? Bah, we all know the answer too well. Don't we?

Headlines like "Brown-skinned Indian held for murdering several first world citizens in their sleep" would probably do the rounds of USA Today and New York Times. (Man, i really need to stop imagining now).

My little sister knows how to clean up her mess, I wonder when will the CEO of the biggest company in the world will learn to do that!

Shave India

Disclosure: Since I've run out of all sensible things to write and I'm really not in the mood to comment on Obama's security breach or Real Estate in Dubai crumbling down, I'm writing about a really mindless topic right now. If you are annoyed after reading this post, please don't tell it to me coz I'll say, You were warned!

There are very few things which fascinate me as much as my cluttered desktop or my sister's overflowing cupboard (with most of what is my stuff in them). Men with beard are one of them. Think about it. Not so long ago, Ruk Ruk Khan and Tick Tick Motion with their chiseled bodies and chikna faces were all the rage among the girls and young aunties alike.

Then, came the likes of goonda-looking Abhishek Bachpan who boldly stated that keeping a stubble is "in". I'll simply say he is too lazy to shave his beard off. Others like, Neil Nitin Mukesh, Johnny Depp and Collin Farrell followed. They redefined cuteness, fusing it well with the hairs on their face.

Cut to the present, where all the boys around me seemed to have taken a pledge that they will let their neighborhood barbers die of hunger but will not go in for a trimming or much better, a shave. No, they will not let the poor barber earn a penny or few.

My younger brother has a beard thicker than amazon forest within two hours of getting shaved. And yes, all he has to do to irritate me is to stand near me and pretend to scratch his beard. Gross. GrOsS. GROSS.

S looks cuter than a koala bear whenever he shaves. The sad part is he makes it a point to meet me only when he is looking like a complete terrorist with his beard, moustache and all. The cherry on the cake is the recent survey I came across where Gillette is launching a movement called "Shave India".

I was casually surfing through channels when I came across this ad. At first, I thought, maybe it's some similar political campaign like "Lead India" or "India Shining". But two minutes into the ad and I came to knew that the ad was launched in response to a survey which revealed that 90% of the Indian women would like to kiss a guy who is well shaved.

My reaction was like "Hadh hai wella hone ki bhi. Kisi dhang ke topic pe hi survey kar lete. Common sense ke bhi survey hote hain kya?"

But the fact that I've dedicated an entire post to this bearded topic does prove that I did gave the issue an afterthought. Most of my male friends prefer to keep a stubble, a goatee, a barely -there mustache or the most common one - trimmed but not shaven look.

I'm yet to come across a guy who prefers to shave. Regularly. Now, come on, would you guys really like it if all the females stopped waxing? No, right? So, there!

Strange Stranger Meeting

For people who do not know already or have visited this page for the first time, let me tell you guys that I travel a lot, like four hours everyday within the city.

Considering I'm always using the public transport, I happen to meet a lot of people. Keep bumping into the same people all the time who happen to be in the metro/bus same time as me every day. And I've got reasons to believe that this must be quite a common phenomenon with most of us.

I've also got reasons to believe that all the girls reading this post must have their own story of a boy who was a stranger but still remains memorable. Like boy in the coffee shop. Boy in the bus. Boy in the mall. Well, so this is my story about the boy on the metro.

FYI, I'm usually at my defensive best when travelling alone. I deliberately put up that expression which screams don't-ya-dare-mess-with-me for people who can't help themselves but pass lewd comments or follow young, pretty things for no reason. Ain't I modest? **chuckle**

I'm usually the kind of girl who would be walking unusually fast, almost running (coz I'm always late), carrying a REALLY big bag, looking serious or talking to myself as I walk. Not the perfect mental picture for a "pretty young thing". Ain't it. It was already dark when I left college yesterday and it was still 5.30 pm in the evening. Winters, I tell you. So, I once again assumed that fierce, strong-girl exterior and headed to the metro station.

By the time, I reached upstairs, the metro was already stationed there with it's doors about to be closed. And hell, I was still on the escalator slowly approaching the platform. I dashed towards the metro, frantically running on the escalators and managed to squeeze in the metro, with the doors closing just behind me.

I smiled and congratulated myself. Doesn't matter, that half of the compartment filled with most of whom what seemed like "middle-aged people" returning from office were already looking at me. I thought what they must be thinking, "Oh, these youngsters who do not have enough patience to wait for five minutes till the next metro but will obstruct the closing of doors" and other shit.

I chuckled at the thought and looked searchingly in the compartment for a seat. Seriously, with all the running, I could use some space to sit. God Bless the person who invented "Seats reserved for Ladies". I saw a young boy sitting there....and again I went "Oh boy, that's my seat, get off it" in my mind.

So, I simply went and stood in front of him. Clever boy, He understood the hint, looked back and saw the sticker behind him which said, "Only for Ladies" and politely got up, offering me his seat which I gladly accepted.

That is, when at the next station, I saw him. I saw him standing on the platform even before he got in and thought to myself "Aw,, that guy is HOT". The train stopped, and he got in my compartment. "Great", i thought.

As I was contemplating why I had been fixating on this stranger, I realized he had sat down next to me.

In the empty seat that had cleared out.

For the woman who had gotten on at the last stop.

The woman was still standing there.

WHY DID YOU NOT SIT DOWN???? I mentally screamed at her.

Ok, this is not good. The boy I had nearly drooled over was SITTING NEXT TO ME.

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat.

What now? Stay calm. Stay. Calm. Caaaaalm.

I tried not to look uncomfortable and just to play it safe, started looking in the other direction. But I could almost feel his shoulders touching mine and I was freaking out. And sweating. In Winters. Weird.

I hope he doesn’t notice. I snuck a look at him out of the corner of my eye. He seemed completely oblivious to my existence. Well, he’s probably too cocky to even consider me to be in the same league as him. Although I usually don’t care much about appearances, my pride was slightly hurt at the thought of this. I mean, I know I don’t look like a model, but I can look decent when I want to. And today, I looked fairly decent - at least, I thought so. I mean, I was wearing purple, and I only wear purple on days when I actually colour-coordinate my outfit. So there. I was looking decent today, and yet I was totally invisible to him.

Argh, stop it pink. I’m sure he’s used to girls tripping over themselves to get his attention and I am NOT going to be one of them. I REFUSE to be a silly giddy girly-girl who swoons over pretty boys!

Wait.I am a silly girl. I am just not a girly girl and I definitely, DEFINITELY do NOT SWOON OVER BOYS. And he would definitely, DEFINITELY not be interested in a girl like me. His girlfriend is probably tall and skinny, with long tanned legs and wavy, dark brown hair, and big eyes with long eyelashes…

Before I knew it, I was picturing his supermodel girlfriend.

No, he probably has more than one supermodel girlfriend. A guy like him definitely has someone on the side. Probably two. Or three. Or four.

Then, suddenly he threw something, trying to be incognito but I noticed..

What?! Did he just litter INSIDE THE METRO?

Ok, now I am not a freak about littering or anything, but I don’t throw garbage out of moving vehicles either. I was not impressed. So I snuck a (what I hoped to be distasteful) look at him. But before I could deliver the full distaste-look, something in his lap caught my eye.

A pack of cigarettes.

Oh great.

Now we have a litterer and a smoker. And a (possibly) major player. This just keeps getting better and better.

I turned away and looked out the window. I am so over this guy, I thought, which made me smile because I had fallen for the guy in less than a second, then gotten over him before the metro ride was even over. I am SO good at this “swearing off boys” stuff.

See pink, this is good, this is what you want. Boys like him make you feel insecure and disappointed and not good enough. Without the baggage of swooning over every pretty boy that walks by and wondering if your hair is in place, you’re so much freer and you can smile stupidly and not care who’s looking at you strangely or whether that’s a flattering look for you.

I was proud of myself.

We ended up getting off at the same stop and I almost skipped off , feeling extraordinarily rah-rah power-to-the-women / who-cares-if-I-don’t-look-like-a-supermodel-I’m-still-beautiful-on-the-inside. But I allowed myself a glance at him as I walked away, because I wanted to see, from the perspective of my girl-power self, whether I would still swoon like I did when I first saw him getting in the metro.

And, maybe the heat had gotten to my brain and was making me see things, but when I glanced over at him, I caught him looking at me as we parted ways. And I grinned.

Good things happen when you meet strangers. ~ Yo Yo Ma