Making a difference.

Something i wrote for my U&I bosses that's taken me ages to put up. Sorry guys! But you know you mean the world to me. :D

The call for namaz cut through the chilly morning air as the birds scattered for their daily first flight. He turned in his half-awake state, knowing today was going to be no different from the previous. His eyes swollen from the lack of sleep, he turned onto his side, slipped his feet onto the floor and shuffled to his bathroom.
He met his own eyes in the mirror, staring back with a fire that lit them up from the depths of his soul. It was a fire he'd never seen before. His eyes were still a dull red from the lack of sleep, but the fire was unmistakable.
After hours of toiling through the ramshackle, make-shift huts, they had saved seven precious lives. A covert operation, after months of over-time, they had rescued seven; not just one or two-precious, whole lives. No matter how many rejections he'd received over the phone, no matter how many unenthusiastic volunteers had shattered his conviction in humanity, he had stood up for his own beliefs. It was that one extra mile, that one vestige of determination that ensured that 7 children, who society had indiscriminately neglected, would not be trafficked, raped and maimed. "They would worry about homework and work for chocolate", his eyes smiled.
He picked up his toothbrush as the alarm went off in the depths of his bedroom. "Another day", his mind squeaked, but oh, his heart soared. He would never forget the spark he'd felt. He'd waited for this moment his entire life, the moment he could meet his own eyes in the mirror and they would reassure him, he'd made a difference.

"She belongs in the kitchen."

Studies say that India is the worst place to be for women - rape and honour killing, they say. I agree to a certain extent, and that upsets me because I was raised like a princess. My parents never denied me anything that I wanted. I had incredible friends, a best friend in my brother and was told I was capable of anything. Even today, breaking every traditional norm of regular Indian culture, my parents and brother sent their baby girl out of India to study, letting me travel alone - something no traditional South Indian parent would do. I've grown up in a society that allows all that and more. And here I am, in an incredibly developed country and the discrimination I've never felt, I feel now. I go to a University where every boy in my lectures and college is just as educated as I am and yet, they dare to say things like, "the pressure on a woman to educate herself is a lot lesser than on a man" or "you don't need such an expensive education, you're a girl, marry someone who'll pay for your make-up". Oh, if only I was pathetic enough to have that option. I come from a community where women have worked for years and paid for their useless husband's alcohol. I come from a community where many beautiful women have been mistreated and survived to nurture healthy families. Where society tells you that a man is the key to your happiness, I beg to differ. You say the pressure on women doesn't exist? The pressure is greater with pigs in place of men in this world.
In the world of metrosexual men, chances are he's a lot more complicated than I am. Chances are, he uses more beauty products than I do.
I'm not a hard core feminist. I like it when a man opens a door for me, or when he lets me walk with my arm around his. I'm not saying men shouldn't be polite and that I oppose chivalry. I'm only saying that if I allow you to be the man you are, you better allow me be the woman that I am. I've been brought up in a reserved and cultured environment - a refined society that in it's reservations still allows a girl to play in puddles, still allows her to speak her mind, make her own choices. You've made me angry, with your derogatory words and your stupid mind set. If you can't hold me an equal, try not to talk to me and even if you chose to, behave. Ask me to make a sandwich nicely and I will, I'm good at making those. Tell me to make a sandwich and that I belong in the kitchen and I will hurt you. I have knees, and I'm not afraid to use them to render you unfit for procreation, gentlemen. =)

Why Bangalore will always be home.

When I look out my window, I see greenery stretching out for miles on either side. All the little houses with their sun kissed sloping roofs seem a cheeky response to the fading autumn green. I have to admit, my choice of University through UCAS was a good decision.
And then I think of home. The feeling of inexplicable belonging. Maybe it's the Bangalore rains on our tin roof or 'Dolci' desserts with 'that' friend. Or maybe it's the ice cream at Airlines on a Sunday afternoon with 'that' best friend, coupled with harmless bitching sessions. It might be the chai walla at office in the afternoon or the family meal times where Dado and I stress Mum out by arguing too much. It might even be bugging the big brother and singing looney tune songs as I third wheel my favourite people in the world. There's no such thing as too happy, too hot, too cold, too loud or too much caffeine and Maggi in Bangalore City. Even the tarmac of UB City road becomes precious when you're far away from home.
This makes me say to myself. It's only another 9 months to get home. It's only another 9 months till I can be a failure bargainer again on Comm street and run up and down the backyard with the overgrown puppies. It's only another 9 months till I see Sunshine (my toy Lion cub, or pun intended, you pick) again. I know my flight will land and I'll make my way from the arrival gate only to see my mama waiting to hug me. and I'll break into a run with my over-laden trolley, straight into her arms.
Uni's great, don't get me wrong. Travel, more so - my favourite thing in the world. But where the rain is warm on a Sunday Morning in December and Maroon 5 wakes me up to the smell of puppy slobber and Dad's French toast is where you'll find my heart. Namma Bengaluru.