Had that been the law

As everything is going back in time whether it’s the fashion, education system or yogic healing, I think even the law should go behind time and not forward.

I am an average Indian girl, who is independent, strong minded, career oriented and moreover single at 26. I possess all the qualities a father and a brother expect in their daughter and sister, but not in their spouse.

I can’t say if I am single by choice or by force. I am single by choice because, I never looked out for prospective boyfriends around me when I was at the peak of my youth. And I am single by force because, no guy really dared to propose me or even impress me.

Today, although I have been enrolled in every matrimonial site, I am single. Thanks to my qualification and the field of my choice where I work. Even when someone shows interest, my folks reject because he either fails to match my qualification or my looks.

Coming back to the topic of going back in time, I think child marriage should be made legal because you will marry the man even before he becomes “a man”.

Looks don’t matter, as every child looks cute when young, career is not an option as he is still in school, bank balance is not a criteria as the boy’s father is screened and not the boy and fidelity would be rare, I assume.

Seriously, had the old laws been implemented, I am sure I would have been happily married by now. As I was quite cute and lean when I was a child, not too good in studies, not too strong minded but meek. Even today if I upload my details rewinding 15 years of my age, I am sure to be loaded with 100 times the proposals than today.

Had that been the law, people wouldn’t have sympathized my singleton

Had that been the law, my extra weight wouldn’t have been a problem.

Had that been the law, I wouldn’t have garnered many dreams

Had that been the law, career and money wouldn’t have mattered

Had that been the law…..Had that been the law

Had that been the law…. I would be like you and not like me…:) :) :)

Please Note : For all those people who feel sorry for me that I am single... I would like to say that I feel sorry for them who want to go back in time.... while I choose to move ahead.

You are not single...

You are not single when your marital status says so

You are single when you have 430 virtual friends on facebook and you no real ones around

You are not single when you are sitting alone at home

You are single when you chose to drive away from a happening party, alone at 3 am

You are not single when you are busy at work, with no time for friends

You are single when you have time, but no friends to work with

You are not single when everybody is wrong and you blame them

You are single when everybody is wrong but you blame yourself

You are not single when you don’t have a shoulder to cry

You are single when you have shoulders and tears, but no reason to cry

You are not single when nobody understands you

You are single when you don’t understand yourself

You are not single when you walk alone

You are single when you walk in crowd… Alone

You are not single when your marital status says so

You are single when you have 430 virtual friends on facebook and you no real ones around.

Last nail on the coffin

I ended my career as a crime reporter... ended my dream and probably dreaming too!!!

Looking back from where I am today, I remember cherishing this dream of becoming a crime reporter, since I understood the word "journalism". I was tooo too too lucky to become a crime reporter early in my career itself. The adrenalin rush was higher as some people demanded me to prove my ability. Being completely modest and humble I can still say I was very good at my job.

I am sure, people who were my colleagues, my seniors and my competitors will surely agree that I was good and was a threat to my competitors too. I dedicated my three years six months being a crime reporter and I swear I had sacrificed a lot of my happiness for this dream and never regretted either. Being a movie buff since school, I don't remember watching one single movie without being troubled by a call during these days. Was seriously part of theater and play, but couldn't get time to watch one. Love my family and spending time with them, but was always missing from those special moments. Despite my physical presence, my mind was away at work.

On March 22, 2011, I finally decided to put down my papers and end this career (read dream) and went on a break... to Goa. I returned in a week and the world was certainly different... break ke baad.

On March 27 when I entered my office to finally hit that last nail on the coffin, I realised I was buried along with my career here.

As I opened the attendance register book at the reception, I spotted a scratch on my name and the receptionist was quick to guide me to the visitor's book and asked me to enter my name, time and the purpose for my visit to this office. The message was strong and clear. As I finished, she said please be seated and after making a call to the HR department, she asked one of the security guards to accompany me inside the office. (These were the same people who used to salute and wish me every time I entered the office. ) As i gave a shocked look with a broad smile trying to hide that piercing pain, I heard the receptionist say... sorry... rules are rules.

I was not ready for this... after dedicating so much for this career and that too when i still had my id card in my possession.

I went straight to my table after the formalities at the HR department and began picking up the pieces of my assets on the table. I was feeling better as many of my seniors I really respect asked me to stay back, stating i was really good at what i did. If not in the same company atleast in the profession. As my tears were slowly being caressed by my smile, the HR executive approached me again and confirmed if i had taken my papers. As i answered in positive, she said, "Dont mind... but you are not supposed to roam around inside the office. Rules you see...Please leave as soon as possible."

I really never wanted to bury this career for life.. But I did for some unexplainable and unavoidable reasons. But with this kind of a farewell, I still wonder if I had wasted my four years or feeling better that I was atleast out unlike many others.

I learnt it the hard way... a really hard way.

But still dreams should be lived... and not buried as I did!!!

Money can buy hapiness!!!

We are told that money cant buy happiness!!! But all I say is just try it, you might end up buying that too.

If you ask me, I would say today I did spend Rs 500 or rather should I say gave away Rs 500 and feeling richer than ever.

Actually a youth had met me at my office a couple of days back, requesting our health reporter to publish an appeal seeking monetary help for his younger brother's surgery. I did find them genuine because i think that a 14 year old cant fake the expression of pain and his face needed no explanation. But today the guardian came again and said that he had just Rs 500 and needed 1500 to get the scanning done. He requested me to ask my colleagues and arrange for the money. First thing

what came to my mind is either these people might give pittance like 5 or 10 rs, or they might talk ill saying that these people are not real.

I dint think twice, just took a 500 rupee note from my wallet and gave it to him. He gave me a blank expression and dint know how to react. I said this is all i can do and he left quite contended.

Frankly speaking, i am not the generous kind and actually keep calculating the money i have spent and if i think i have overspent, then will ensure to make up for that by sacrificing other things. But today, i just dint think twice after giving the money.

I am not writing this to scream how great i am, or all that crap but to scream out to you that its really a great feeling : a feeling of giving ... And I think my money did buy me happiness today.

Crime Reporters are not GOD!!

I am not such an established crime reporter yet, but still have begun to feel the heat of this profession. In this four months' experience as a crime reporter with The New Indian Express I have learnt that people consider us to be very much like God. I mean ... Anybody has a problem, they rush to us.
Talking about my latest experience, one of our office managers, came to me saying that his wife's chain was snatched while she was walking towards her residence. Alright, like a decent reporter , I jotted down every detail from where she was coming from, how was the chain, where was she going, what time, which direction etc etc etc. Though our paper has stopped writing about the chain snatching complaints (Cos it is very comman and our paper lacks the space) I wrote this one which even got published. The story should have ended here right?
Wrong, I have this man asking me as what happened to his chain.. For God sake how would I know that? I am not the one who snatched. Did you tell the commissioner? did they find the chain? when will I get it? and with a zillion such questions, this man haunts me everyday. Seriously, even I am praying to God that let this man get hsi chain as soon as possible, so that I am spared...
This is just an example, we face such problems each day, where people approach us with a lot of hope and expectations without understanding that we too are just like them, serving a job.

kissa mobile ka

Even with a number of  reasons to crib and cry, and also being the youngest brat reporter with loud mouth in office, fighting over silly issues I kind of love this profession which fills in joy in minute things. We learnt it in college and my crime beat always made me feel that for us,"Bad news is always good news"... But now I also think otherwise.

Actually about two months back, a young boy with red face came to my office worried and said that his Nokia N95 was stolen and he requested  me to pressurise the police. I could totally understand the boy's plight because I know what I went through when my phone was stolen. Had cried, was depressed, irritated ... everything. Even after two years i haven't found it, so tried to convince this chap to forget his mobile and move back to Delhi, where he hailed from.    

But after I spoke to the police, the boy in a very convincing manner said, "after talking to you, i am sure I will  get my phone back." God knows, how and what happened, and thanks to the sub inspector of Madiwala police station, Chandrappa  who traced the mobile phone wiyhin two months.  

I was SHOCKED!!! and happy too. Just when I had started believing that these men in khaki were duffers and Kamchors , i was up for a surprise. Though the police deserved the credit, the boy always said, "Its all because of you"

Frankly! felt great about the entire episode  and by writing this in my blog, i am just attmpting to credit the unsung heroes (The Banaglore police).

It HURTS...when a language can claim a life

I have been following the Mukarram's shootout case and the following day of the incident, there was a huge hulla hu at the Ulsoor police station when his family members visited the station to narrate their version of the incident. The entire media industry thronged the station, hitting, pushing abusing, actually forgetting that where and why they were at that place.
If reporters were trying to get a new and "Exclusive" angle for heir story, the Photographers just exhausted their batteries by freezing every possible moment. Not just the family members, but even the policemen were not spared....for example as the ACP of Ulsoor division, GB Manjunath entered the station, he was treated like a star as the photographers clicked every step of his.(he was just left to wave and give throw kisses in the air) I am sure, he would have never ever dreamt of such a welcome.
Now it was the time for the moment, and as the family came out of the Inspector's cabin, the media persons thronged at them and as the story had already gained national attention, media men of Hindi, English and Kannada were present in a huge number. Nothing less than "BHOOKE SHER" all of them tried to get the family's bit, without realising as how sensitive the issue was for the family. Especially, after all the papers had taken the headlines screaming "Mukarram was shot after the military men heard him speak in Urdu."
The reporters again began fighting and trying to decide whether the family's would speak in Kannada, or Hindi or in English first. While they were fighting among themselves with questions like, tell us what happened, batayi apka kya baat hua hai police ke saath, nimma bedikegalu yenu, what s your next step, blah blah blah....
one of the family members who fumed at this cried, Kannada be nahi Hindi be nahi, Urdu me baat kar ba... Mukarram Urdu me bath kiya to mar dale na.. Humko be marne do...
This is unfortunately what the minority community feels in this nation which proudly flaunts of having the highest number of spoken languages...But who is to be blamed for this, is it the minority's thinking or the majority's created situation and suspicion on smaller than the smallest incident, or the media which tries to make a statement without feeling the emotions?
Will there be any solution?