Now A Young Climate Activist Has Been Arrested, Remanded Into Judicial Custody (without Being Given Access

i searched on hathras and dalits, and there’s not much posts here now. i made posts about it, and even they are not there now. is this tumblr’s standard operating procedure for all social movements and rape cases?

also people have already started to forget this case. let me remind you people are blaming the girl’s family as we speak for doing this to extort money from the accused. already violence against dalits is breaking out again. the upper caste monsters are threatening media, people and other political parties from entering hathras otherwise they will be killed.

don’t let this issue die. it represents everything wrong with my rotten country. please it’s a request.

and tumblr - tumblr up.

Go to Pakistan

This has been coming for a long time.

Many months ago, actors Shah Rukh Khan and Aamir Khan made statements about how India is no longer a safe place to live. Their statements were met with a wave of indignant bleating and comments urging (read: threatening) these actors to “go to Pakistan.” The recent Uri attacks seem to have brought these same buffoons out of hibernation. Armed with social media, they now choose to target Karan Johar. Who clearly has everything to do with these attacks.

The irony here is that the same people who so vehemently protest the cast of Karan Johar’s new movie have likely done nothing for the country themselves. Take the MNS for example. What are their legacies?

1. Covering people’s faces with ink (because logic). 2. Aggravated Assault (because the law is unpatriotic). 3. Campaigning for the removal of non-Maharashtrians (All Indians- oops sorry, all Maharashrians are my brothers and sisters…). 4. Corruption (Patriotism is obviously about lining your own pockets while your fellow citizens die of starvation). 5. Pseudo acts of kindness, like building random temples here and there (vote gaining tactics)

Classic examples of the Politician species.

To recap: “Karan Johar sucks!” thus said His Thackeray-ness.

However, in my opinion:-  1. The surgical strikes were a good response to the Uri attacks. The last time I checked, Karan Johar was not shooting soldiers, so I fail to see any logical thinking behind the wave of hate directed at him.

2. The people who really love their country will want to boast about what a wonderful nation they live in. However, to do that, you need something to boast about. Corruption, poverty, overpopulation, terrible sanitation, poor facilities, and yes, even intolerance are problems being faced by all Indians, and ignoring the problem or pretending it doesn’t exist isn’t going to make it go away. The only way to make this nation a nation to be proud of is by addressing these problems and solving them.

3. And finally, to any bigots who think “go to Pakistan” is an appropriate response to this post: you’re only proving my point.

Quick Guide for Arts Students

Since students have to make a lot of important career and study related decisions in a few short years, I decided to make this overly sarcastic guide for Arts students. Hopefully this helps. Step One: First you must score less than 60% in your tenth exams, because in India, it is unacceptable to be a smart Arts student. It is always assumed that you are an Arts student because you couldn't get into Commerce or Science. Step Two: You must spend your entire time in the college canteen, even if it serves only substandard vada pav and soggy idlis. Arts students are supposed to be drop outs and/or "weird theatre types." Step Three: The syllabus will require you to memorise the birth dates of obscure scientists, because logic. This will kill all your creative genes. For the sake of extremely necessary degree, deal with it. Satisfy creativity by table graffiti. Step Four: You are an Arts student. Sanskaar dictates that you are not on the same level as Science and Commerce students (apparently), therefore 99% in exams is out of question. But you must still get 99% in your 12th exams. Of course, questions in Arts papers are very subjective and as a result it's almost impossible to get 99% in them, but meh. Technicalities. Step Five: Everyone, from ancient relatives to the woman cutting your hair, is going to ask you about your results in the 10th standard. Lie and say you got 50% so that you don't have to hear the standard argument of "Arrey?! Aapko 92% mila toh aapne Science kyu nahi liya???" (What?! Why didn't you take Science if you got 92%???) It's actually easier to bear the judgemental looks rather than try to explain that you might actually be interested in Arts and Humanities. Step Six: Become a teacher.

Having been classmates in school with his son, I've seen him a couple of times at school. He never had any of the airs that you would normally associate with celebrities, and was really shy and quiet. He was incredibly talented and a great role model. May he Rest in Peace

In The Memory Of Irrfan Khan

On April 29th, 2020, the well-known actor Irrfan Khan passed away due to a colon inflammation. This was unexpected even when he disclosed his condition on Twitter in 2018. This is a sad occasion for everyone, so I thought instead of mourning his death, we should celebrate his contribution to the industry.

Long Story Short

Born in Rajasthan to a Muslim family, Irrfan Khan was from a generally low class family. Although he was talented in cricket, he had to opt out for acting instead because he didn’t have that much funds. He did his MA in Jaipur and joined the National School of Drama in 1984. After graduation, he was given minor roles in TV shows with little to no acknowledgement. Soon enough, he was given a slew of feature length films that gave him critical success and recognition, such as Rog, Maqbool, and Haasil. In 2008, he appeared in Slumdog Millionaire as the cop interrogating Jamal ruthlessly and he gained international recognition from there. After some more movies, he recieved a National Film Award for best actor for his role in Paan Singh Tomar. During this time, he recieved the fourth-highest civilian award, Padma Shri Award. He got a taste of commercial success with movies like The Lunchbox, Piku, and Hindi Medium, which eared him Filmfare Award for Best Actor. His career seemed to be going stable with movies like Karwaan and Angrezi Medium, but little did we know that the latter will be his last film appearance.

Notable Performances

Miyan Maqbool in Maqbool

Ranvijay Singh in Haasil

Ashoke Ganguly in The Namesake

The Police Inspector in Slumdog Millionaire

Paan Singh Tomar in Paan Singh Tomar 

“Pi” Molitor Patel (adult) in Life of Pi

Saajan Fernandes in The Lunchbox 

Rana Chaudhary in Piku 

Raj Batra in Hindi Medium

Champak Bansal in Angrezi Medium

Legacy

In his 35 years of acting, Irrfan has grown a cult following with very devoted fans. Coming from a low class family, his inspiring story to stardom is the best example of hard work and perseverance. He was a role model for an entire generation of film lovers and showed how far true dedication can get you. Truly a humble talent Bollywood didn’t deserve, his death has left a gaping hole in the industry. May he rest in peace and may his memory and legacy live on forever.

Why I Am a Confident Person

So this is a short piece that I had to write in class, on Why I Am a Confident Person. These are my thoughts. And it was written in less than fifteen minutes, so it’s not perfect. Don’t judge. Please.

‘What do you think is the main quality a person should possess?’ This is a question that I’m getting sick of, to be honest. Or, to put it more accurately, I’m getting sick of the answers I hear to that question. Everyone spews the same, recycled mumbo-jumbo: Love, Kindness, Honesty, etc. However, in my opinion (I’m going to act like you actually care about my opinion) the most important quality anyone should possess is a sense of humour.

Now I’m not talking about cracking the occasional *ahem* non-veg joke, for lack of a better term. The sense of humour I’m referring to is the ability to laugh. The ability to laugh at yourself, and the ability to laugh at your situation. These two are the keys to having self-esteem and confidence. At the same time, you’re aware of your own failings, so it keeps you from getting swollen-headed. But because you can laugh at those failings, you don’t enter that never-ending downward spiral of Doom called ‘Why Me?’

Let me give you my own example. My life is a short joke! If I had one rupee for every time someone said, “Hey, what’s the weather like down there? I wouldn’t be travelling by BEST bus. However, if I became moody and started sulking every time someone made fun of me, I would be spending every waking moment offended and upset. And I’d also have no friends, because honestly, who likes a crybaby?

So there you go. The reason I’m a confident person is because I already know what’s wrong with me and I laugh at it. So when someone else tries to bring me down by pointing out my faults, I just laugh at it, as I always do. Also, another perk of this method of self-esteem-boosting is that, whenever someone tries to bring you down, and you laugh at them, their faces at that moment can be added to the list of things you will look back on and laugh at for the rest of your life. Aah, the memories!

Quack Attack?

My family appears very normal. I have a father who loves sports and crime shows and I have a mother who is obsessed with vegetables and imaginary specks of dust. The only thing (yes, thing) that disturbs this image is the nutball I call my brother.

Don’t get me wrong, in front of other people he acts completely normal. Maybe a little like a clown, but still normal. The worst part is that people actually respect him! They think he is a very responsible older brother who has to babysit his bratty baby sister all the time (never mind the fact that I’m sixteen). This is what he has other people believe. I’m here to shatter all of these illusions.

My brother is an idiot. Now before you start protesting that he is in fact a very intelligent boy and I shouldn’t be saying things like this about my family, let me outline a few of the more prominent incidents. There is of course the one where he woke me up by dragging me feet-first into the kitchen. Then there is also the one where he decided to show off his arm strength by grabbing my feet in one hand and my hands in the other and flinging me onto the bed. But the one day which stands out in my mind is the day he abruptly decided to call me Quack Attack.

He likes to tell people that there is a reason behind this ridiculously idiotic nickname. There isn’t. He just suddenly decided, ‘Thou shalt henceforth be known as Quack Attack’ and that was it. I honestly didn’t know what was going on. One minute I was innocently sitting at my table and doing my homework, the next he had graced me with his extremely unwanted presence and declared that I “shall henceforth be called Quack Attack.”

My initial thought was something along the lines of, ‘doesn’t he have a hobby?’ but I dismissed that thought and, quite foolishly, I admit, asked him where this sudden announcement came from, whereupon he began to laugh and told me that I had been mumbling those words under my breath. Now that in itself is quite plausible, I do generally mutter while I am writing. But I clearly remember doing my Marathi homework at that time, so there was absolutely no reason why I would be saying ‘Quack Attack’ under my breath. But does that deter him? No, he just ignores my logical argument and sticks to his utterly idiotic beliefs!

It has been almost four years since that fateful day, and I would like to tell you that he has changed and has actually become the respectable 20-year-old everyone thinks he is. But I can’t do that because, sadly, he is still as much of an idiot as he was all those years ago. Time has not affected him one bit. His affectionate nickname has become rather famous *sob* and even certain friends have taken to calling me Quack Attack!

To those who believe that I may be exaggerating a little, I assure you, I’m not. Yes, there are times when we get along, and, having put up with him for sixteen years, I am quite used to his needling by now, but still. In my case, the ‘tyrannical older sibling’ myth isn’t a myth at all! I live it every day!

*cue Optimus Prime voice* I am Kirtana Menon, and I send this message out to all those who battle the forces of annoying older brothers. We are here. We are waiting.

Muthashan

For as long as I can remember I’ve had memories, and some of the clearest ones are of my trips to Bangalore and Chennai, where my relatives live. I recall the 24-hour train journeys to Bangalore, which I would spend jumping from top berth to top berth like a drunk monkey, and I also remember the excitement with which I would search the platform in Bangalore for the subject of this article: My Muthashan, my grandfather.

My grandfather is the embodiment of “eccentric scientist.” He is bald with a thin line of hair forming a semicircle around the back of his head and a shiny head that, according to him, is very useful when guiding aircraft. When he wakes up (at 4 in the morning), he brushes his teeth and goes down to the kitchen to have a glass of water. While reaching for the glass, his hand invariably knocks over every other utensil located within half a foot, which serves as an alarm clock for everyone else. Except my grandmother, who is used to this, and continues to sleep soundly in her room. The rest of us crack our eyes open, see that the sun hasn’t risen yet and flop back onto the bed.

Another one of my grandfather’s traits is his absentmindedness. While most of us may forget our handkerchief or maybe a water bottle, Muthashan is very capable of forgetting a person, as my Ammuma (my grandmother) will happily tell you. Let me give you an example.

My grandparents were coming home several years ago after some function, on my grandfather’s bike, when they hit a particularly large ditch. The bike jerked but didn’t fall, which is more than I can say for Ammuma. She flew off the bike and found herself sitting squarely in the middle of the road, her nice sari all rumpled and dusty. As several pedestrians tended to her, my grandfather (who had yet to notice that his wife had fallen off) continued down the road until he was out of sight. A few kilometres later, it began to occur to him that no one was replying to him, so he turned around and discovered her absence. Did it occur to him then to go back? No. He spotted a group of drunkards fighting by the roadside, and knowing my grandmother’s penchant for resolving conflict, he went there to investigate. When he didn’t find her there, he was deeply perplexed. After formulating several hypotheses, he concluded that he needed to go back the same way. Sure enough, a few kilometres down the road, he found my grandmother marching briskly towards him, swearing to herself that she would never again leave home without her own purse and money. She took one look at him and proceeded to roundly abuse him in Malayalam, when, hoping to cheer her up, he exclaimed, “But look! This bike runs so smoothly that even when 65 kilos fell off, I didn’t notice anything different!”

The words she used after that are inappropriate in public.

Ever since then, she has insisted that a four-wheeler will be the only mode of transport she uses, and no amount of lectures on fuel efficiency or the rising cost of petrol could convince her otherwise. Oh yes, and shortly after this incident, the bike was sold.

Ammuma and the rest of the family say that they wish this was the only anecdote about Muthashan, but then, he does like to live life with a flourish. So, logically, why shouldn’t there be even more stories in which he has unknowingly risked being disowned by his dear family?

Now, considering my grandfather’s idea that Einstein’s Theory of Relativity is appropriate breaking-the-ice kind of conversation, it is easy to imagine that he does not concern himself with certain information. Not much, just irrelevant information like a person’s name, or how many kids he has. You know, things like that.

So it didn’t surprise me when I was told of how he walked up to a woman at the Indian Institute of Science (where he works) and said, “Ah, you are George’s wife, isn’t it?”

“No sir, I am Govindan Nair’s wife”

…

Thanks to a well-aimed pinch from my mother, he didn’t voice his thoughts of, “But I saw you the other day with George!”

He is now over 75 years old, and continues to blunder through life with confidence. If you are ever introduced to a man in Bangalore, and said man is wearing an expression that combines bewilderment with quiet desperation two seconds after being introduced to you, you have most certainly met M. Venugopalan, my Muthashan. But never fear! Even if he doesn’t know you, he will be delighted to take you through the technicalities of the Cassini-Huygens Spacecraft!

Kirtana P. Menon

Re-reading the Kane chronicles. Am I the only one who just noticed this?

Changing Status of Women

This was a short piece I had to write in class (in about 10 minutes, so be patient please). The topic given was “The changing status of women” I’ve drawn inspiration from the stories of my grandmother’s childhood in a small village in Kerala, as she was one of the few women of her generation who was allowed an education, because of which she values it a lot more than my own generation. I hope this will show everyone how lucky they are to be educated. ________________________________________

Part One: As usual, I woke up unnaturally early, a couple of hours before the sun rose. Tiptoeing around my sleeping relatives, I quickly grabbed some clothes before running towards the pond nearby for a quick bath. Finishing the bath in record time (exactly 8 minutes) I got dressed and rushed back home, quickly finishing the rest of my chores before hurrying back out to begin the 8 kilometre trek to school. All before the rest of the family woke up.

I smiled sadly to myself, wondering, for the umpteenth time, if all this would be necessary if my relatives were not so against the idea of an educated woman. Why do I need to go to school feeling like a criminal? Just because I want to be educated?

Part Two: I watch in wonder, as my granddaughter throws yet another tantrum while my poor daughter tries to coax her out of bed to get ready in time for school. She’s complaining this much…. because of school? Does she not realise how lucky she is? Her parents actually support her education! Her grandparents like hearing about her school and her friends there! She never has to hear snide remarks about how she’s neglecting her duty as a woman by moving out of the kitchen! Does she really not understand how privileged she is?

Comfort Food and Khichdi

Food.

The very word inspires you with warm and fuzzy feelings, feelings of satisfaction, of happiness, of life at its very best. Whether we like the same food or not is irrelevant, because food, at its core, is one of the few things that makes everyone happy. Everyone.

Comfort food: This is the one type of food that gives emotional satisfaction to the one eating it. The eater experiences a genuine feeling of happiness while eating, usually associated with pleasant childhood memories. So comfort food is basically food that makes you really happy. That being said, allow me to proceed to my rant of the day.

I have come across an unpleasant number of people who claim that khichdi is their comfort food. The most tasteless, boring food ever to cross my path, is considered comfort food. How? Why? The only memories I have associated with khichdi are ones of the overwhelming taste of pepper on my tongue, of squishy rice and broken promises of pizza for dinner. So where does the “happy childhood memories” bit come in?

Maybe it’s just me. Because my comfort foods are Pav Bhaji and Kulfi, while my mom firmly states hers is Kerala Fish Curry with brown rice. And these are infinitely more interesting than blooming khichdi (don’t even try to argue with that). So I probably am the only one who does not understand how non-tasty food can be comforting.

In my house, khichdi is something that is made when the only other option is starvation. The pros and cons of each option are lengthily discussed, and then sometimes, we make khichdi. We have a very clear understanding of what we consider appropriate food. Khichdi is not food. Food implies everything discussed in the first paragraph. Khichdi is simply an Edible Item. I will not insult Food by clubbing it with the likes of khichdi.

And yes, I am ranting because my mom has prepared khichdi for dinner. Starvation didn’t put up a good enough argument this time.