An age old cliché: Question asked to Miss Universe Pageant finalists “What would you like to achieve if you were crowned Miss Universe?” Reply by all aspirants “World Peace!”
Nearly everyone I know believes in a cause. Some of them even contribute in some way. There are the rare few who are driven by these causes.
At the age of 18 I joined one of the largest youth communities in the world today, called AIESEC. Ironically, this association was born out of a desire for world peace. But that’s a broad point of view. What it aimed to achieve is peace through understanding, interaction, exchange, education, empowerment and much more. I could tell you more but then that would be a blog on its own. Frankly a visit to www.aiesec.org will tell you more than I ever can.
It was because of this that I became aware that everyone I knew had, at some level or the other, the desire to give back to the world. As a matter of curiosity I started asking people around me this one question:
“If you had all the money and time in the world and you decided to support a cause. What would your top three causes be and in what order?”
I got a variety of replies to this, but the majority went with old age and / or children. A few mentioned cancer research, HIV / AIDS, mentally / physically retarded children and so on and so forth.
This got me thinking about what kind of person I am. Thankfully very few asked me my choices. Because if they heard them, they would have thought I had my priorities mixed up.
My choices and in this order:
1. The environment
2. Animals / Wildlife
3. Education (child and adult)
Does this make me a callous human, who doesn’t care about health, elder people, under nourished children? Not in my eyes…
I have a million justifications to my choices; I don’t think I need to elaborate too much on them. Suffice to say that without the environment there will be no health. Without the ecological balances of nature and its creatures, there isn’t going to be a world to grow old in, or bring new children into. And for those who are already on the planet, education is the single most important step to creating better lives.
The only thing I would add to it if I had the option for a fourth cause is empowerment. All it takes is to make people believe in themselves and give them a few basic tools, and they will never have to rely on anyone else. “Give a man a fish and feed him for a day, teach a man to fish and you feed him for life.”
Today I am proud to know that at some level or the other I am contributing to all these causes. Sadly, it’s not enough, but I know I can make it more meaningful.
I work with father in a business that sells reusable bags the world over to help lessen the plastic menace. We are also trying to set up something that can become a community effort to make use discarded plastic so it doesn’t land up in land fills. (www.badlani.com/bags)
As of last week, on the request of a dear friend, I have rejoined the effort of helping his organization “Animal Help Foundation” achieve what it set out to do 4 years ago. (www.ahfindia.org) Being an active alumnus of AIESEC, assisting them achieve a 50+ year old dream, completes my cycle.
If anyone tells me that there is just so much one person can do, then I would request them to watch a movie called ‘Schindler’s List’. He was and remains my inspiration. I want to make a difference that means I can.
To world peace, Salute!
Saturday, July 16, 2005
Friday, July 08, 2005
The proposal
The phone rang; I saw the number and smiled. His sweet voice was on the other end. With no preamble he asked me ‘will you marry me?’ For a moment I was stunned into silence and then with a catch in my throat I said what I had to. ‘Yes! Yes, I will marry you’
He said that he was my prince charming and he would come on a horse to marry me. I couldn’t stop smiling. It was so sweet; so amazing.
‘I’ll get you pretty clothes and diamond jewelry. I’ll make you a beautiful big house, where I’ll keep you happy. We will call all our friends and enjoy every moment.’
I was in heaven… he was promising me everything a girl could ever want. I knew I was going to be the envy of everyone around me.
He said he couldn’t wait; he wanted to do this the next morning itself. Why would I argue? ‘Sure lets do it.’
The next morning arrived, and I waited… but prince charming never came…
Sigh…
He was in school with all the other 5 year olds and his Kaaguma still can’t stop smiling…
He said that he was my prince charming and he would come on a horse to marry me. I couldn’t stop smiling. It was so sweet; so amazing.
‘I’ll get you pretty clothes and diamond jewelry. I’ll make you a beautiful big house, where I’ll keep you happy. We will call all our friends and enjoy every moment.’
I was in heaven… he was promising me everything a girl could ever want. I knew I was going to be the envy of everyone around me.
He said he couldn’t wait; he wanted to do this the next morning itself. Why would I argue? ‘Sure lets do it.’
The next morning arrived, and I waited… but prince charming never came…
Sigh…
He was in school with all the other 5 year olds and his Kaaguma still can’t stop smiling…
Thursday, July 07, 2005
Belonging & Un-belonging
I just finished reading a book by James Patterson called Maximum Ride. He has written about 6 kids who at or before birth were injected with avian DNA, which made them mostly human but part bird.
They live in isolation, hiding from the world; they are regarded as mutants, freaks; they don’t belong. Yet their emotions, their desires aren’t any different from any of us. What 6 year old doesn’t like to have toys; who doesn’t like homemade chocolate cookies? These phenomena are universal. This is them, yet they don’t belong.
The whole book is about them struggling to keep alive while their creators are trying to hunt them down and kill them. It maybe a little silly but I felt their pain, shared their joy and saw the world from their eyes.
At one part, Max, the protagonist comes in touch with a human who she takes the risk to ask for help. Max has been shot through the shoulder and asking for help means exposing her delicate wings. The lady doesn’t bat an eyelid, cleans her wounds, feeds her and gives her a warm bed to sleep in.
What makes this lady different from other normal humans? Her compassion; her tolerance and patience; or maybe a heightened sense of peace within that doesn’t make her view something different as a threat?
Real life is not at all like science fiction, but aren’t we also to blame for the same things? Don’t we view people who are different from us with suspicion? Do we not fear them, shun them and even make fun of them?
This comes at times from fear of the unknown, suspicion of the ‘out of the ordinary’, defense for a way of life that has been ingrained into our senses, and often from a feeling of envy and disdain for things that we can’t have or do.
It happens all the time. I have always been the odd one out in my family. To an extent this is because my parents are such distinct individuals even within their own family units. But other than that it is because this is who I am.
In school kids would make fun of me for speaking in English and not being fluent in the regional languages. In college I was infamous because I smoked and didn’t try and hide it. Most of my cousins think I am nuts, again because I smoke and drink openly, have my nose pierced and a tattoo on my shoulder.
The elder generation thinks there is something wrong with me because unlike my cousin sisters who have married nice rich men and spend their days at home caring for their families, I am still unmarried, working and actually planning to marry a guy who chose the armed forces as a career.
Don’t get me wrong; I have nothing against what these girls are doing, in fact I respect it, especially seeing that I don’t have the ability to do it. But I really don’t think what I am looking for is unacceptable either.
I don’t belong in my family, in my society! Yet within this un-belonging, I have found my place and each day I try and see how I can marry the two…
I don’t want to belong! But I do want to un-belong in the nicest possible manner!
They live in isolation, hiding from the world; they are regarded as mutants, freaks; they don’t belong. Yet their emotions, their desires aren’t any different from any of us. What 6 year old doesn’t like to have toys; who doesn’t like homemade chocolate cookies? These phenomena are universal. This is them, yet they don’t belong.
The whole book is about them struggling to keep alive while their creators are trying to hunt them down and kill them. It maybe a little silly but I felt their pain, shared their joy and saw the world from their eyes.
At one part, Max, the protagonist comes in touch with a human who she takes the risk to ask for help. Max has been shot through the shoulder and asking for help means exposing her delicate wings. The lady doesn’t bat an eyelid, cleans her wounds, feeds her and gives her a warm bed to sleep in.
What makes this lady different from other normal humans? Her compassion; her tolerance and patience; or maybe a heightened sense of peace within that doesn’t make her view something different as a threat?
Real life is not at all like science fiction, but aren’t we also to blame for the same things? Don’t we view people who are different from us with suspicion? Do we not fear them, shun them and even make fun of them?
This comes at times from fear of the unknown, suspicion of the ‘out of the ordinary’, defense for a way of life that has been ingrained into our senses, and often from a feeling of envy and disdain for things that we can’t have or do.
It happens all the time. I have always been the odd one out in my family. To an extent this is because my parents are such distinct individuals even within their own family units. But other than that it is because this is who I am.
In school kids would make fun of me for speaking in English and not being fluent in the regional languages. In college I was infamous because I smoked and didn’t try and hide it. Most of my cousins think I am nuts, again because I smoke and drink openly, have my nose pierced and a tattoo on my shoulder.
The elder generation thinks there is something wrong with me because unlike my cousin sisters who have married nice rich men and spend their days at home caring for their families, I am still unmarried, working and actually planning to marry a guy who chose the armed forces as a career.
Don’t get me wrong; I have nothing against what these girls are doing, in fact I respect it, especially seeing that I don’t have the ability to do it. But I really don’t think what I am looking for is unacceptable either.
I don’t belong in my family, in my society! Yet within this un-belonging, I have found my place and each day I try and see how I can marry the two…
I don’t want to belong! But I do want to un-belong in the nicest possible manner!
Wednesday, July 06, 2005
Until I do, I don’t!!!
Procrastination and an aim for perfection
So basically I have been living under the impression that until I can figure out what it is I want to write about and where it is going, I can’t write. I call this an aim for perfection, others call it procrastination.
Nomenclature aside, it’s the truth. I haven’t found anything to write about and what ever little I can think of, I don’t know where to take it. The result… silence!
I have a friend who tries his best to change this silly habit of mine, even suggesting things I can write about. It hasn’t worked has it? That’s not entirely true. The pod blog was his suggestion… Thanks man!
A quick self evaluation told me that this silliness of mine is not restricted to blogs; it seems to follow me around wherever I go. As far as I remember I have always been like this.
I feel the constant need to aim for perfection. And each time I think I have come close, my mind just raises the bar. It’s like being a dancer doing the limbo rock in reverse. Only it doesn’t get easier the higher it gets.
A corollary to this quest of mine is the desire to organize all the time. From making lists (which I assure you, is not always a bad thing) to rechecking things a million times. I also try to be freakishly neat. Constantly arranging things and doing it again if I am not quite happy with it.
It’s got to a point where friends call me ‘obsessive compulsive’ and think it is great fun to rile me by changing the placement of objects in my surroundings. To my horror they succeed in getting me fidgety.
And to think I laugh at similar quirks that Monica has in Friends, and my late uncle had. My cousin inherited it from him; I wonder where I got it from?
Dad is going to be very amused when he reads this; because he remembers all too clearly the messy room his daughter had nearly all her life… From one extreme to another!!!
I kind of prefer the new me! I need to find more things and ways to ‘do’… Until I do, I don’t!
PS: If this one meandered, it’s not my fault; I’m trying to disprove my OCD!
So basically I have been living under the impression that until I can figure out what it is I want to write about and where it is going, I can’t write. I call this an aim for perfection, others call it procrastination.
Nomenclature aside, it’s the truth. I haven’t found anything to write about and what ever little I can think of, I don’t know where to take it. The result… silence!
I have a friend who tries his best to change this silly habit of mine, even suggesting things I can write about. It hasn’t worked has it? That’s not entirely true. The pod blog was his suggestion… Thanks man!
A quick self evaluation told me that this silliness of mine is not restricted to blogs; it seems to follow me around wherever I go. As far as I remember I have always been like this.
I feel the constant need to aim for perfection. And each time I think I have come close, my mind just raises the bar. It’s like being a dancer doing the limbo rock in reverse. Only it doesn’t get easier the higher it gets.
A corollary to this quest of mine is the desire to organize all the time. From making lists (which I assure you, is not always a bad thing) to rechecking things a million times. I also try to be freakishly neat. Constantly arranging things and doing it again if I am not quite happy with it.
It’s got to a point where friends call me ‘obsessive compulsive’ and think it is great fun to rile me by changing the placement of objects in my surroundings. To my horror they succeed in getting me fidgety.
And to think I laugh at similar quirks that Monica has in Friends, and my late uncle had. My cousin inherited it from him; I wonder where I got it from?
Dad is going to be very amused when he reads this; because he remembers all too clearly the messy room his daughter had nearly all her life… From one extreme to another!!!
I kind of prefer the new me! I need to find more things and ways to ‘do’… Until I do, I don’t!
PS: If this one meandered, it’s not my fault; I’m trying to disprove my OCD!
Tuesday, July 05, 2005
Huh???
Ok here’s a funny story!
A gentleman in the UK is putting up a unique sculpture / display. It comprises of a tap, with running water, which will flow constantly for a year.
The motive… to make people aware of the amount of water they waste.
Maybe it’s me, but seriously what sense does that make? By showing water flowing, you want people to shut their taps when they brush their teeth or shave.
I’m confused. All I can say I hope it works and those of you who choose to go see it, make sure you take a trip to the john before. It promises to be a ‘leaky’ experience.
A gentleman in the UK is putting up a unique sculpture / display. It comprises of a tap, with running water, which will flow constantly for a year.
The motive… to make people aware of the amount of water they waste.
Maybe it’s me, but seriously what sense does that make? By showing water flowing, you want people to shut their taps when they brush their teeth or shave.
I’m confused. All I can say I hope it works and those of you who choose to go see it, make sure you take a trip to the john before. It promises to be a ‘leaky’ experience.
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