Indi-gone!

Time has a way of bringing out the best and the worst in us. This is the story about such a time. It was the 2^nd of Jan when I received a message from Indigo airlines stating that my flight to Bhubaneswar scheduled at 5pm is delayed by an hour. Happy with the level of Indigo’s world class standards at maintaining punctuality, I gave it a 5 star in my head. Next day, I put my affairs in order and leave for the airport at 3:30pm, absolutely sure that my timing is impeccable and I can also squeeze in an extra half hour buying some cookies and watching Dexter.

When I reached the airport at approximately 1600 hours, I could not feel more proud about my own punctuality, finally Indians have mastered the management of time I thought to myself. I took my ticket from the kiosk, bought some cookies and headed straight to the assigned gate. Relatively empty. When will my fellow passengers learn! It’s not time yet though, there is still 15 more mins on the scene. I took out my laptop and my earphones and dug into my cosy indulgence, Dexter. 30 minutes pass away in a jiffy; the place is crawling with passengers, and just then I receive another message alert from Indigo.

We’re sorry to inform that your flight which was rescheduled to depart at 1800hrs is now further delayed and will depart by 1900 hrs. So much for punctuality.

 There are a few people talking to the indigo check in assistants by the gate. Apparently, the flight which was coming from Chandigarh to Mumbai has been delayed because of “unforeseen circumstances”, weather is an untimely bitch. I come back to my seat and painstakingly explain to the Telugu aunty sitting next to me that the flight is delayed. She seems like a talker, glad I don’t know Telugu. My laptop reads a battery level of 90%. Guess, I have time to find out who Dexter kills in the next episode.

Half way through my episode, I hear a nice fat Bengali lady, in her early thirties shouting at the Indigo crew. She’s good, knows how to make a scene. Self-note, never get into a verbal spat with a Bengali woman. She’s gathering momentum; people have started to gather around the Indigo help desk at the gate. I see less of concerned expressions but more of Dhoom watching, popcorn lacking smiley faces.  My Telugu aunty has now noticed this and is ready with her volley of questions! Damn!

I take a quick dodge and tell her I’ll go and find out about the squabble. A get closer to the impatient crowd and to my utter surprise, the attendant, who is perspiring now, tries to calm down the lady and other of her passive associates by telling them that the flight will be there by 2000 hrs. Good lord! I ask the nice young lady next to me, what the delay was about, and she gives me the complete picture. The flight 6E-264 which left Chandigarh was not coming to Hyderabad but rather was en route to Mumbai and due to ATC (Air traffic Congestion, read sucky infrastructure) is held up at Mumbai and will be landing at Hyderabad by 2000hrs.

Moment of clarity. I felt less for the impatient lady and more for the crew. The ratio of passengers to crew at the desk now stood at an overwhelming 30 to 3. One guy and two girls are smiling and putting up a charade until further information from Mumbai. The lady is inconsolable. She is furious and asking for her money. Bengali business lady is more lethal than African Black Mamba. She took a freaking parade of parade of passengers and in a matter of 30 mins had her own personal army, with a chain of commanders backing her up every time the crew opened their mouth trying to pacify the situation. The security person has seen their dilemma and goes back to support them, but in a verbal fight all his years of training is nullified.

I should head back now; after all I don’t want to be a part of a “good for nothing” crowd. I go back to explain my aunty who, by now, is resting her complete confidence and her pouty bag on me. After 15 mins of hand gestures and pointing at the big screen I finally get through to her. She’s a little upset, but I am glad she’s not the African Black Mamba! I look at the Indigo crew again, tough day to come to work. The flight is on its way to Hyderabad and will be here by 7:30pm, sounds good to me, and I guess this notification has worked like the Patronus charm. The Dementors is scampering back into their seats. Relief for the crew.

I called the guy, Sameer, and confirmed again. The gate has been changed, but the flight will be here soon. His courteous behaviour, even after a hurricane, appealed to my better nature. I went up to the now settling crew and took them to an eatery, close to the gate, for a Coke. The storm had subsided, people were now eager to get on the plane and leave. A sudden realization of imminent trip made people thirsty and I saw them manhandling the all so complicated soda vending machine.

These two hours had seen it all, the value of time and the ugly and naked faces of men faced with dire situations. The lights turned green and soon we started boarding. Sameer and the beautiful girls said thank you and wished me adieu. It felt like I just went through an episode of modern era Malgudi Days. Train could have been so much more interesting!

Pre-teen-tious?

So, I open my Times of India tab which I regularly do, to briefly glance over the "top stories" of the day and keep myself updated, and the most horrendous news takes my attention.I read the date twice because I feel a sense of deja vu, like I have read this in yesterday's news too.No, its fresh. A juvenile rapist and murderer is released and has threatened again the sister of the victim, whom he had brutally raped and murdered. I guess murder is still a little glossy word. The "juvenile" raped the 6 year old victim repeatedly and then tore her body limb to limb and disposed it off in different public toilets. Questions like how could he? or why did he? is hardly what bothers me as I am overwhelmed by the number of incidents that have taken place over the past 5 years and how every time, these demons get better or worse at something you thought could not get more gruesome.

These grizzly affairs have stirred us to revisit the very humanity we have theoretically accepted our society has... by default. And the fact that the perpetrator is a juvenile has only increased our fears. So the question I would like to ask myself is, how juvenile is a juvenile?

The laws of our land govern that specific age limits are the perfect way to split up these adolescent citizens into being ready for voting(18), ready for drinking(21) and most definitely ready for marriage(21). And as ghastly as it may seem, the laws have unwittingly also provided a legal age for rape! Confused? Well, so was I when I saw repeated acquittals in various rape cases where juveniles in the bracket of 14 to 18 where given a "get out of jail free" card owing to a school leaving certificate. I would like to cite an example where a 14 year old boy was taken into a special reformatory home for a period of 6 months for raping a 4 month old infant girl. The disturbing fact is, today he is married and has his own family, but what happened to the child? Have we really become so blind? Has the average Indian really forgotten all about this crime? Was him being a minor at the time when the crime was committed, the only factor for going easy on him? So, if we use the same analogy with Kasab, and say that he was a minor at that time, will it clear him of all the charges?

We call them juvenile, and when I looked it up in the dictionary, it meant someone who is young and has not yet reached maturity. In legal tone, a person who is unaware of the crime and the consequences of the crime are called juveniles. So, are we to understand that in Delhi gang rape case, the juvenile, who according to the police charge sheet lead the group and did a monstrous damage to the victim by sticking a steel rod in her private parts be called unaware? Should we believe that the person who orchestrated the entire act that shamed the nation and the world be considered incapable of deciphering the consequences? I feel tired now, using the term juvenile as it only reminds me of a pretentious person trying to cover his bloodied tracks using the shrewd yet deceptive face of a child.

Human activists charge at the fact that our law should be reformatory and not driven by retribution. They say these "mislead souls" should be given proper counselling, and given a second chance at life. So does the current norm of having 6 months to 3 years of reformation really reform the criminal bent state of mind? I am perplexed at what could be the answer to such cases. Some suggest that we should hang them or at least give them life imprisonment to set an example and club them along with adult rapists and murderers. Some others say that we should reform the entire judicial system, change the reform homes to better suit such cases, and if possible, also allow them to integrate with the society again. Personally, I feel we should see the nature and intent of the act, the magnitude and intensity of each case and let our bright judges decide, not based on laws of numbers, but on the possibility that a crime is not always the result of a wayward child with psychological issues, sometimes it can also emanate from a stable mind with planned schemes and conscious ramifications.

Meet the dots

Happens to me too! This phrase has single handedly revolutionised friendship, sororities, kitty and or any other forum which brings people into a group and with these magical words binds their soul to the party.
From the time early cavemen started discussing their wives or food habit (whatever rings their bell if you know what I mean) to the time women discovered gossip (great discovery btw) to the time people started reading astrology column and getting amazed at how aligned it is with their life!
(Bogus, I say.)

One thing however cannot be refuted, how easily people connect with each other or inanimate columns out of sheer real life experiences! A survey taken out(by me) on fb statuses showed that ppl gave more likes to mutual everyday activities/experiences than unusual occurances.
For example, "I won an award in debate, so happy" drew me bullcrap of a response but when I said "change your toothbrush before it turns into a sunflower" I got a whooping acceptance. Some friends huh! But I guess its only human! Everyone connects to things they've felt. So I thought let's charge up the meter and start jotting down things that happened to me with a pinch of table salt!
Ahoy! matey, all hands on deck!
Always wanted to say that right?

Kickstart

June 2013, 13 never was my lucky number. But what happened wasn't luck, it was the culmination of wrong decisions. Ok, let's make a status check..I am 24, without a job, with a master degree in finance but a knack for marketing. I stay in a PG in hyderabad which has whimsical water supply and a drunkard minor for the PG owner. I am in seclusion cause facing anyone is like facing charges for negligent homicide- guilty as hell.
Let's wind up a few years to the flutter of the butterfly that started all this. Coming to bhubaneswar, mid year, failing to cope up with studies, falling in love..or so I thought, losing my senses in the utter confusion of aptitude and career. I took commerce though I loved science...why...oh well I thought commerce is closer to money..yup I am a materialistic moron. I chose to fall in love again..this time I blame my hormones..I guess puberty decided to make my body a camping site for german experimentation.
Ok so I love again..and this time I created myself a bermuda triangle of destruction..this is where I truly fell..never to get up again.
My dreams of being a CA was charred with the soot of desperation, impatience, obsession and my new found sin..being fickle!
I could never truly appreciate my relations, my career, the scope I was offered again and again and most of all time...which flew and from being a promising tomorrow...came frighteningly close to the end of days.
I just fell down the rabbit hole without even realising..I was carrying this broken mind to my doomsday celebration. Anyways, facts are..I did a regular b.com. and then went ahead to do MFC..don't ask..and ended up my beautiful relationship smearing my image with promisquity and intricacies that even I was afraid to face again.
I have now successfully given MBA Exams twice and and made 0 percentiles for the nation! Well not exactly, I scored well the second time but again chose a contract job to stamp over my dreams and become a sell out.
And as all things end, so did this dream of my beloved MNC.
Which brings me to now..how many chances can I jus throw away? How many relations do I have left to break..virtually none and chances are on an absolute scale of zero!

Good news..mom still believes in me.
Bad news..I havnt done anything to prove it.
Ok..so here's the kickstart...do or die...no no...do or let everyone down..yup...that ought to scare the best of us..