• The Bad-Isms

    The Bad-Isms

    I don’t usually write too many serious blog posts. Barring the fact that it reaches an audience that may not be in the mood for something grim and somber; I have a particular audience where I thrash things out to my heart’s content (usually). Thankfully some of those people are close-by and I get to see them as often as I’d like. With a few others a continent away but still very deeply entrenched in the discussions about the state of the world, fairness and everything that deviates from them.

    I had written this a few days ago and it had helped me get some stuff off my chest. My worries and feelings about the prevailing situations in a particular part of the world.

    A few days ago, two particularly close friends and I were talking about the same issue again and I realised that in the name of Democracy there actually isn’t a lot of tolerance in certain parts of the world. Especially in one that touts itself as the vanguard of the ideal. Jingoism is the name of the game. However twisted that game may be.

    Children coming from other countries, whether they come to stay for a short duration or migrate, are prevailed upon to recite the Pledge of Allegiance and know the Star Spangled Banner without any reasons given beyond that this is how things are done here.

    I understand being loyal to the country you are staying in. But why force patriotism onto kids belonging to other countries at ages when they are too young to reason things out for themselves? Does it help in any way to have them loudly pledging any allegiance? Is it something they’re doing out of compulsion/habit or is it organic?

    From 3rd to 7th grade I pledged my allegiance every school day without fail and if you woke me up from my sleep today and asked me to do it, I would be able to perform on autopilot. And while it didn’t harm me in anyway to do so back then, I don’t recall a single teacher of ours attempting to get to know anything about the other cultural and racial backgrounds barring having us draw our country’s flag and tacking it up on the noticeboard at the back of the room along with our pictures next to it. That doesn’t really spell acceptance and inclusion to the adult me.

    Ethnic equality concept and racial justice symbol as a black and white crumpled paper shaped as a human head on old rustic wood background with contrasting tones as a metaphor for social race issues.

    And circling back to the burning topic of racism, while we did religiously follow Black History Month in our school, we didn’t process beyond Abraham Lincoln, the Emancipation Proclamation, Rosa Parks and Dr.King. I didn’t study in the US beyond the first few months of junior high but even then, I learnt more about other notable people from the movement by watching movies- Medgar Evers et al. Books pertaining to the segregation seemed restricted to Roll Of Thunder Hear My Cry.

    However, when it came to the Holocaust we were given an exhaustive look into things. Quite a few of our teachers were Jewish and had known of people who were in the concentration camps or had lost family members in pogroms. Names like Treblinka, Dachau and Auschwitz became part of our everyday vocabulary. Our class’s annual program was A Fiddler On the Roof one year.

    This is not to say that am equating the Holocaust with the injustices doled out to the African-American people. But inhumanity is inhumanity. There were lynchings in the Deep South, forced breedings to create superior race of slaves who would be sturdier, work longer, better and cut down the need to employ too many people and in turn save their owners money. None of this was taught.

    Maybe it was found to be unpalatable for 12 or 13 year olds. But being exposed to the horrors of the Holocaust via Fredrich, When Hitler Stole Pink Rabbit, The Number On My Grandfather’s Arm and of course, The Diary of Anne Frank were all deemed as being perfectly suitable. Of course it goes without saying that atrocities in any other part of the world were never even touched upon. I guess they leave that for college and for people who chose to know more on their own steam.

    I’m not complaining about getting to know about these atrocities one way or the other. But as an adult, it does seem like one race’s history and legacy was prioritised over another. And that’s not right.

    And that’s what really stands out for me at the end of the day- whatever is happening is not right! The shootings, the custodial deaths, the riots and looting in the wake of these deaths. None of it is right! And it doesn’t seem like it’s going to get rectified anytime soon.

    Till then, people lining the streets holding up signs, hashtags trending on social media and speaking out wherever and whenever the opportunity comes up, is the sole recourse of those who care and those who are the most impacted.

  • Maximum City-Part Deux
  • Scenes From A Car-II
  • Maximum City
  • The Saga Of A Little Boy

    Once upon a time, there was a little boy. He was a bit scrawny when he was born but he put on weight and filled out and got himself some plump little cheeks, arms and legs and gurgled all day long.

    He was a happy little boy and made his parents very happy too! Except for his mother who used to wish that he would sleep more and gurgle a bit less. Because sleep helps you grow and gurgles just brings out more drool.

    This boy went to a school for little kids and had great fun there! They used to have a Naughty Corner for kids who needed to be on Time-Outs and there was a chair kept just for him. But he missed his friends when he was in the Naughty Corner and called them all over to his side. Soon, the teachers found themselves on the magic carpet all by themselves with the little boy having fun with his friends in the newly christened Happy Childrens Corner.

    His parents always wondered at how fast his mind worked and everything that filled him with wonder. He soon discovered dinosaurs and other reptiles and there began a love affair that would probably last his whole life.

    He loved to swim, swing, make a mess, paint on every part of his body, go on trips with his parents and more than anything, he loved KFC’s popcorn chicken, digital media and warm squishy hugs.

    As this boy approaches another set of candles on his cake, his parents keep wondering about his life ahead. Will he play cricket, will be take up palaeontology, will he crash on their couch for the rest of his life? Whatever be the answer, it’s sure to be as interesting as parenting him as been so far.

  • It Matters. Period.

    Long post alert.

    I am no “bleeding-hearts” liberal. Neither am I a “ranting” right-winger. I can like one and dislike the other and vice versa, based on situations. I am no die-hard. Because to do so would be to become absolutes and people are rarely just one thing. The one thing we can count on with surety is the gray in them.

    Despite being halfway across the world from the troubles in USA, I am still bothered by the way things seem to be playing out there. It doesn’t directly impact me sitting in India but given that a “super-power” of the world still acts colourblind in this day and age, is nothing short of disappointing to say the least and my mind shudders to think of the worst.

    As a child in 1992, seeing the live coverage of the L.A riots in the aftermath of the Rodney King incident, I wasn’t impacted much because L.A and New York were faaar apart. We did discuss it in my class and from what I remember, not too many of the kids focused on the color of King’s skin. They did think it was “messed-up” to attack an unarmed man though.

    Fast forward a few decades and we now have the BLM movement gaining momentum once again because of 3 unnecessary deaths in very short intervals in 2020. The fact that there had to be a movement stating that Black Lives Matter, is a cause for concern. Why shouldn’t it matter? And to counteract it with another movement called All Lives Matter seems like a farce.

    Throughout human history, the times when being humane hasn’t been the default order of the day are during times of abject poverty and hunger; when people killed to stay alive or during the regimes of despots when genocide took place to showcase might or to shut down the dissenters.

    But sitting in 2020 with the kind of advances that have happened in science, technology the world over, to have to iterate that there’s a value attached to a human life that goes beyond the color of the skin, is a giant step back. We cannot afford to devolve especially at a time when people ought to be rallying together to stay safe and work at rebuilding.

    I look at any kind of police or armed force (the official ones and not the mercenary kinds) as a necessary evil. Our societies are huge and self-regulation isn’t practiced by all. The establishment of “peace keepers” and the judiciary is essentially for that- keeping the peace and for disciplining the malcontents who continue to buck the limits of legal norms and cause disruptions.

    I am not naive enough to long for Utopia but a march in the opposite direction goes against everything that I want from the world where my child is growing up.

    utopia dystopia
    Image courtesy: Veronicasicoe.com

    It boggles the mind that a policeman would choose to subdue a potential suspect by kneeling on his neck. And continue to do so for close to 10 minutes. It also boggles the mind that a country allows for such laxity in owning and handling firearms that anyone who seems to running away is automatically taken to be guilty and can be fired upon. A woman whose car is spotted outside the residence of a suspected drug dealer, can have her home broken into and get fired upon without having a chance to answer questions defending herself.

    The Death of Justice. — Steemit

    It would seem that justice, in this day and age, is not blind to color but seems deaf to cries as well.

    Gag Orders Imposed By Washington To Prohibit Chemtrail and Geoengineering Truth Government Gets Desperate, Imposes GAG Orders On NWS And NOAA Gag Order, Department Of Justice, Social Issues, Pictures To Paint, Crime, Image, Lawyers, Statistics, Evergreen
  • A New Offering

    A New Offering

    A particular project of mine has been in the pipeline for a long time. First in the mental and then digital one but it’s finally seeing the light of day. I’ve started a blog where I review products that I have personally used and can vouch for.

    The idea came about when I was forced to turn to online-shopping to manage my time with a giggly and hard-to-catch kid about the house. With e-Commerce booming over the last decade especially, my credit card has touched distant shores and browsed all sorts of categories. If you have it, if I want it; I’ll probably buy it!

    So head over to my new blog and let me know if my recos help influence your spending behaviour. The next step would be to let me know about products that you feel very positive towards and I’ll try it out and then profile it so others can have a larger range to choose from.

    Cheers and happy shopping!

  • Oh-Cult!

    Oh-Cult!

    I had a LONG discussion, just before bedtime, with TO about Annabelle. How the whole thing came about, why a doll of all things, how possession takes place, how a possessed item can go on a killing spree and how it was different from Child’s Play. Just what every mother wants for her child to dwell on before he closes his eyes for the night and dreams happy thoughts.

    But I am glad that he’s asking questions and showing interest in things which have greatly entertained me while I was growing up and continue to do so even now.

    While I’ve stopped going into raptures at the thought of a horror moviethon or stopped setting up playlists for Halloween and Friday the 13th, I still enjoy the silent menace of Meyers, the freakishness of Freddy and the…the…dang! There aren’t any horror adjectives that alliteratively go with Jason. Sorry dude..you’ll always be my go-to undead villain though.

    See the source image

    Among the newer scary movies, the Conjuring-verse isn’t unique by any means but it’s well-executed. With demonic dolls, spooky spectral and nasty nuns (see what I did there? Alliterate this baby!); the series is slick, has enough creepy moments without getting into utter gore and becoming a slash fest.

    I mean while buckets of blood and entrails had their allure once upon a time, nothing can beat the chill of an evil spirit advancing steadily toward someone while they’re back-up against a wall with nowhere to go! Or maybe something a bit more innocuous like suddenly seeing someone who shouldn’t be there.

    But before the whole world, especially my father, starts judging me about my topic of discussion with my only flesh and blood, let me just say that time spent together with the parents in any kind of an activity that brings enjoyment, is an investment in good memories for a lifetime. Even ones with horror movies.

    My memories of horror movies are mainly linked with my mother. Not because she’s demonic (the woman’s practically a saint!) but because she stuck up for me when my father used to make a noise about me watching rated-R stuff and watching people get killed by creatures/beings who keep coming back even after being killed in each installment of a series.

    She didn’t mind that there would be blood and that a 10 year old would be watching something that would lead to a lifetime’s interest in the creepy and spooky. It was a fun mother-daughter activity that my father cringed at and I think that was part of the allure.

    What’s funny now is looking back at the two of us, huddled on a single couch; me with a Hershey’s pudding cup in my hand and my mother covering my eyes whenever nudity came on the screen and removing her hand whenever the killing started. Because for some reason, all the serial killers, dead or undead, are pervs. They get their rocks off killing people mid-make out session. Total coitus interruptus if there ever was one.

    My mom never minded seeing Jason stab someone through the gut with a harpoon or a fireplace poker for that matter. Likewise she was a-ok with Freddy putting some hapless kid’s head through the tv and putting holes in someone else’s body with this knived-gloves.

    Once she saw me sit through the Exorcist and The Omen, she knew the blood and gore wouldn’t mess with my head. More importantly I didn’t do what my kid is currently doing- asking an unending series of questions about “why” someone is being killed. Why are they being killed in a particular way. Why did Pennywise eat the kids? Why does Pennywise have a red balloon? Why does he stay in the sewer yada yada yada.

    I started off this post with the intent to say that it was a bit tough but terribly interesting talking to my kid about the occult. I ended up missing my mom instead. I think 2020 is turning out to be a year full of revelations. Imagine, missing a 70+ years grandma who knits and sews, whenever I watch horror movies. Slightly incongruous but then such is life. I hope TO and I get to make our own, slightly whacked-out memories in the years to come. I’d love to see his reaction to Pinhead!

    See the source image

  • My feet are dry and the heels are cracked but I can’t figure out why. I badly want an hour long pedi but that’s not gonna happen in the foreseeable future so… am blaming it on the heat and lockdown because it’s du jour.

    Red was busy tapping away at his laptop and I told him that he needed to take better care of me and wiggled my feet in his direction hoping he’d take the hint.

    ” Do you want a mango?” was the reply I got instead. And after internally warring with myself whether to get snippy, snarky or sad I decided a mango was the way to go. Whaddya gonna do, these are tough times…gotta roll with the punches!