All For the Flag

This morning, I witnessed something beautiful. It was a moment from last night's Brazil vs. Korea FIFA 2010 match. The MIM told me about it and I immediately youtubed it.

I watched dewy-eyed as Korean striker, Jong Tae-se fought and failed to hold back his tears at the start of the match when the band played the Korean national anthem. I don't think anyone who saw that could possibly remain unmoved.

His emotional downpour during the anthem immediately became one of my favourite moments of FIFA 2010. I don't know if anything will be able to top that...

Yes, yes...I am woman, hear me roar, see me weep...

But all said and done, it was a heart-touching moment on so many levels. To see such raw emotion on display, and from someone who is 'supposed to be' all alpha-male, is always a powerful yet humbling experience. Not to mention over-whelming. This man must have dreamt about this moment ever since he was in school playing in the dusty fields with his friends. He must have skinned his knees a gazillion times, maybe even broken his nose and a few bones some countless times. Dirty shirts and socks that made his mom scream in frustration; inter-school and local club tournaments where he may have sometimes soared and triumphed or tripped and crashed; kicking that ball an inch closer to his dream with every match.

And then, on June 15th, 2010, there he was. Right in the middle of his dream. Except, it was all true. It was a reality. We were in the midst of that dream coming true for him and to see him embrace it in the way he did, was almost to be a part of it; on the fringes in a voyeuristic way perhaps, but part of it we were, helplessly entwined.

The other thing that always gets me choked up is seeing such an overt display of national pride. It's no secret that I love my India, even though on paper I do not belong to Her. But I am a part of Her. And She is a huge part of me.

That's why, when anyone shows Her or Her symbols, raiment and accessories the slightest bit of disrespect, my blood begins to boil.

Like to the National Anthem, for example.

I have to say, right at the beginning, that I don't approve of the national anthem being played in theatres. It's a beautiful song and the piece that is played is inspired. But the theatre is not the place for it. I must say I appreciate the thought that went behind it, but I still feel that the cinema hall is an inappropriate place to stir up nationalistic pride. You have people trying to shush crying babies and excited kids, juggling trays of ice-laden cold drinks, hot coffee and tubs overflowing with popcorn. You can forgive them for being distracted, but the anthem is the anthem. And to be honest, once the first bars of the anthem start, these tired and stressed out parents will grab their kids, stand where they are, clutch onto dangerously wobbly and over-loaded trays and desperately wish for the next few minutes to speed on by. But they show respect. What is going on in their minds is a different conversation altogether.

But it gets distressing and upsetting to pick out a verbal duel with the set of nonchalant 'cool' dudes who sit there smirking away, munching their popcorn while others stand around them and sing.

I've always tried to remain true to my beliefs. Hypocrisy turns me off. So I've taught the EO all about respecting the national anthem; not just his own, but any and every, single one in this world. It's about respect. It's about peace and brotherhood. It's about what's right.

Before going to Singapore for our holiday, I took the boys to see "Shrek 4." There were four people sitting down when the anthem started playing, a scruffy, unwashed, hippie, blond, back-packing couple and a pair whose facial features led me to believe that they belonged to the North East.

My six-year-old son, having learnt to respect the National Anthem and Flag without question; having picked up the Sense-of-Outrage gene from me; and even before I could deliver my looks to kill and swoop down on the unworthies, started to head towards the sitters saying "Excuse me!"

I grabbed him by the scruff of his shirt collar and he turned to look at me, bewilderment and confusion writ large in his eyes, "But Mamma, they're sitting for the nashnul anthum!" I reassured him that I was going to tell them, he was just a little boy after all and they probably would not appreciate it.

I first turned to the foreigners. "Excuse me", I said coldly, "but would you mind standing please? This is our national anthem playing." They looked at me, took two seconds to decide whether to stand or not, and finally did.

I next turned my attention to the pair from the Seven Sisters (I dislike the term 'chinks'). I looked at them and said, puzzled, "Excuse me?" And they looked back at me. I said, "It's the national anthem." The look they gave me was a challenging one that said, "So?" And I said, exasperatedly, "So please stand." They had these wry smiles on their faces that were hard to define. I almost thought that maybe they weren't going to stand after all, but a few seconds, they did.

I went back to join my sons and my mother. I sang along loudly but my mind was swirling with uneasy thoughts. The blond guy looked back at me a couple of times and I was rather perplexed with their attitude. I would totally stand for their country's anthem, why couldn't they stand for ours? And didn't they get a clue that a country's national anthem was playing when the notice flashed in huge letters across the screen and everyone around them stood up?

And as for my North-East sisters, maybe they were making a political statement. Did I goad them into doing something that they did not believe in?

That day I was really confused by my actions.

But in my son's eyes, I had done the right thing. I walked the talk.

And I had also preserved the honour and integrity of my country's anthem.

Or had I?

I had tears in my eyes that day as I stood up singing our country's anthem in a darkened theatre hall.

But they were not of the same weight and value as Jong Tae-se's.

Nari Shakti Zindabad!!

I think I may have sent out a wrong signal in yesterdays post. From many of the comments, I feel I've put myself across as someone who doesn't believe in the Pink Chaddi Campaign anymore.

Nothing could be further than the truth.

I have and still am, shouting myself hoarse about this merry band of forward women. I got a cousin SIL to join and have had animated discussions a-plenty with anybody willing to listen...and even not listen. I know for a fact, that thanks to my closest and bestest friend, my chaddi was deposited safe, sound and simmering with all the intentions of letting hell loose, at the Bangalore collection spot.

I was just worrying aloud about whether this will make a difference to Muthalik and his goons. I was worried about how he would retaliate. And I am thrilled to say that I think I have been worrying needlessly. I've been getting/reading lots of reports, all good, from all over the country. I don't want to jinx anything yet by shouting 'Hurrah' and doing a victory dance wearing, what else but, pink chaddies! (in the privacy of my bedroom folks! Even the bathroom mirror shall be spared the horror of that sight!!), but can I safely say, Round 1...the Consortium?

But, I still wouldn't let go of that belan!

Pretty in Pink...Undies!

Pink chaddis. They can be very feminine. In a totally sex kitten kind of a way. Or in an innocent, baby-doll kind of a way. They can tell us what kind of a mood you're in too...sexy, naughty, raunchy, caught up with domesticity, blah, experimental, trendy...and rebellious.

Today, thanks to the initiative of some very cool, creative and outraged women, the pink chaddi has taken on new meaning. It has come to symbolise women asserting their individual right to freedom as citizens of this country. It is a symbol of our rage, our disgust. It is our voice, dressed up in a pretty colour and stitched into an intimate garment that expresses us in a unique and sit-up-and-take-note-you-bastards! kind of manner.

Join the Pink Chaddi Campaign. Today.

We are not airing our dirty underwear in public. We are hurtling our strong, worthy statements at those who are trying to carry out the equivalent of castration on the 'weaker' sex!

Take that, you neanderthal! And that, and that....

Fellow sisters in thongs, granny-pants and and other assortments of lingerie...
Bohemian Rhapsody
The Mad Momma
Anindita Sengupta
Within/Without
Indian Home Maker

A Giant Leap...Backwards!

What the hell has been happenng while we were away? We didn't get newspapers in our room and we didn't have time to watch the news and this is what I come back to? Aishwarya Rai getting the Padma Shri? And women being dragged by their hair by cavemen? WTF?!?!!!

There's much I need to write about the holiday, of course, but in all good consciousness I couldn't start writing about my pleasure trip when the affairs of the country are in such a mess and I have an opportunity to lend my voice and do something.

So here's a link regarding the atrocities that were carried out in Mangalore. Take a stand, raise your voice, sign the petition...PLEASE!!!
http://www.rediff.com/getahead/2009/jan/27petition.htm

Someone Stop the Man, Already!

Sanjay Dutt wants to be a minister? He wants people to vote for him?

The same Sanjay Dutt who abandoned his first wife as she battled and lost her life to cancer? The same Sanjay Dutt who left his daughter behind to watch her mother succumb to the dreaded disease? The same Sanjay Dutt who couldn't practise or even believe in the concept of monogamy...from a jail cell??!!?? The same Sanjay Dutt who was convicted of a crime AGAINST the nation? The same Sanjay Dutt who's turned his back now on two very loving sisters who were in it through thick and thin with him?

That Sanjay Dutt? A minister?

Hell no!! HEEELLLLL NOOOOOO!!

I am sputtering and stuttering with outrage. Read the coherent and well-written thoughts of this Goofy Mumma's post to drop your jaw at the sheer ludicrousness of it all.

The more these things happen, the more I feel that democracy is a joke in our country.

Shame.

SHAME!

Another Action Update...

For a seriously superb blog where you can help out with not just Mumbai, but many other issues concerning/troubling our country today, please visit:
http://indiahelps.blogspot.com/

My sincere thanks to Orange Jammies pointing this great blog out!

Another Small Action Update...

I have updated my earlier post with a new online petition.

Please sign and spread the good word...

Action Update...

I am overwhelmed by the response to my earlier post. I got so many words of encouragement from so many of you!! Thank you!

One thing is clear, everybody wants to do something. I have never been good at leading, but I've always been a very good team player. Tell me what I can do, and if it's in my power, I will do it! And Pseudo Intellectual, I didn't ever mean to be exclusive...it's just that when I wrote this, I had this big visual in my head, of Mommy Bloggers marching up the steps of Rashtrapati Bhavan to keep an appointment with the President of India and discuss how we can make our country safer for our children. That's all. I need you on my side, I hope you do know that! And I don't have anything concrete on my hands now, everything is still hazily sketched in the mind... The moment things take shape, you know you'll be one of the first ones to read it here!

I need to thank many of you for linking my post to your blog; Parul, Goofy Mumma, Button's mom and wordjunkie.

I have decided to start small; tiny, baby steps if you will. I am spreading some information about some great websites that are up. For some positive action, here are a few blogs/sites that you could visit:
1) http://www.adrindia.org/home/getinvolved.asp
2) http://www.jaagore.com/
3) http://www.avaaz.org/en/india_undivided/98.php/?cl_tf_sign=1
4) http://www.petitiononline.com/26novAct/petition.html

Now with schools gearing up for Christmas pageants and the holidays, I feel it won't be a good idea to approach them now. So, after the break, I have decided to go to the EO's school and ask the principal about teaching the pledge to all the students as well as starting with the NCC. I don't know how it will go, but I do know that I am going to try. Just like this, if we all visit the schools our children study in, or we studied in, and put our proposals forward, we can feel good about trying. And if our efforts don't work, then we can think of taking it to the next level, like a nationwide campaign, or an online petition. I know that the Mad Momma has a very valid point when she says that a pledge is not enough to instill nationalism, I would still like to try. It could be a start.

The torch is burning...let's keep it alive. And not just a flicker either, but a huge roaring flame that will keep the darkness at bay!

Here is the pledge that I keep going on and on about. My heartfelt thanks to the Mad Momma for giving it to me ...
India is my country and all Indians are my brothers and sisters.
I love my country and am proud of its rich and varied heritage.
I shall strive to be worthy of it.
I shall give my parents, teachers and all elders due respect, and treat everyone with courtesy.
To my country and my people, I pledge my devotion.
In their well-being and prosperity alone lies my happiness.

Let's Do Something!!

I am sick, SICK of these as***les trying to blow our country into smithereens. I am sick of my backyard turning into a war field. I am sick of worrying about family and friends living under the threat of terror. I am sick of feeling guilty for bringing two beautiful children into this f***ed-up world.

We can rant and rave about the politics and politicians of this country. We can scream ourselves hoarse over issues like corruption and nepotism. We can sign all the online petitions we want condemning killings, murders and rapes.

BUT WE NEED TO DO SOMETHING!

Something to ensure that the tigers don't die out in our children's lifetimes.
Something to make sure that we have clean water to drink and fresh air to breathe till eternity end.
Something to make sure that the flora and flauna of the world can thrive and grow in all their natural beauty and splendour.
Something to make sure that the d***-heads don't strike again.
Something to make sure that out five-year olds don't come and ask us what a 'bomm balast' means.
Something to make sure that watching the news need not be a censored event in front of your children's eyes.

But what?

We can wear all the black armbands and badges we like; burn all the candles we want; walk in all the protest rallies there are; cuss at all the politicians that exist; ...but what can we do to make our citizens more proud of their country? What can we do to instill more pride in our armed forces? What can we do to become a more tolerant yet vigilant and tougher nation?

Over the past few days, I have read some excellent posts by mommies all over the world. Mommies angered over the ease with which these terrorists could gain access into our country; mommies scared by the sheer intensity of the hatred that these gun-toting bastards propagate ; mommies outraged by irresponsible men chosen to lead and govern us; mommies scared shitless and witless over the kind of world we are bequeathing to our children.

This is what I propose to all the mommy bloggers out there who want to make a difference:
~Let's start a forum, like Mommy Bloggers Against Terror or Mommy Bloggers for a Better World. [let's get a better name to start with! ;)]
~We should write a petition to the Prime Minister and President of our country, asking them to pass a law to make the pledge of allegiance to our Motherland absolutely and strictly COMPULSORY in each and every school throughout the land. Nationalism is not inbred, it is instilled.
~We can visit schools and make presentations to the principles asking them to start an initiative with the Indian army, where they can invite army officers once or twice a year to come to school and give an interactive talk to children from class 6 and up, about what it is that they do. Our children need to know, understand and be grateful.
~Let's form clubs in school geared towards protecting the environment. This should be made a part of every school curriculum, just like moral science and SUPW.
~Let's teach our children to be more vigilant.
~Let's revive the concept of pen-pals in school, onbce again.
~Let's start across the border friendship initiatives amongst the schools. We have inter-school cul-fests in our cities, why not amonst the SAARC nations? Let's get sponsors for exchange programs.

I don't know... What else? You tell me... Please share your thoughts. ideas and suggestions with me. Please tell your blog friends to read this particular post of mine and to pass the good word around. If required...let's start a new blog!! We blog, we write, we connect -- from all over the world. Let's do this too!

I'm sick and tired of sitting in the back-seat, waiting for things to happen. Let's take the steering wheel in our hands and move forward, in the same direction with the same goal in sight.

Let's do something!

I Love My India!

Today is India’s 61st Independence Day and I feel compelled to write about something fitting the spirit of the day. There are so many things I can write about…what freedom means to me, what the flag signifies, how I get goose pimples whenever I hear the national anthem, how the plight of our national animal saddens me, how stories of our great fight for freedom and the heroics of our martyrs like Shaheed Bhagat Singh and Khudiram Bose make my chest swell up with pride…I can go on, because there is much to talk about, much to feel.

I’ve chosen to write about something close to my heart…patriotism. And at the outset, let me say that it is an emotion that I find lacking not just in today’s youth, but in my generation as well.

Did you guys know that I’m an American citizen? Yes, born and raised there for the first decade of my life. However, my soul is as triranga as can be. I can give up the citizenship that I was born into at a minute’s notice…goodness knows I’ve been here long enough to qualify, not to mention that I’ve married an Indian citizen and given birth to two children here in this country. Yet, what stops me? What is it that has me running from pillar to post trying to secure a dual-citizenship, rather than giving one up altogether so that I can embrace another?

Because, somewhere deep inside of me, there’s a strain, a memory, a single grey cell that still owes allegiance to the American flag. The Pledge of Allegiance is one of the first things that a child is taught upon entering school. Five minutes after we’d settle down in class, a bell would ring and all the children in each and every classroom would stand up, place his/her right hand over his/her heart and recite the Pledge of Allegiance. Every school day without fail. There were even special days, once a week, where we would dress up in the colours of the Stars and Stripes, get together for assembly, recite the Pledge and sing the ‘Star Spangled Banner’ in one voice and listen to speeches about how great ‘our’ country is. How much we understood at the ages of seven and eight, I don’t know, but they obviously made an impact for me to still hold on to mygolden, Bald Eagle embossed, bright blue-coloured passport.

Patriotism is not something that we are born with. It is not intrinsic to human nature and does not come to us innately. It is a feeling that has to be inculcated. Drilled in, driven in…gently and daily. And sadly, here in this country, it’s not.

The school I first studied in once we shifted base to India, one day woke up to the fact that we had not been taught the National Anthem. And shamefully this is almost two years after I had joined a school, which had already been in existence for three years before that. So for five years, a school carried on functioning without its children knowing the country’s most important song. Anyway, we were taught the song, rehearsed it a few times and then what? And then nothing. That was it. No weekly assemblies where the whole school got together to sing with pride, heck, we didn’t even sing it during special assemblies. We weren’t called in on 15th August for flag hoisting. We weren’t taught the words of our National Song or ‘Saare Jahan Se Achcha’.

And the distressing bit is, that I later found out that my school wasn’t the only one to blame. Many, many, many, most schools across the country don’t think it important to teach tomorrow’s generation the songs that once roused our Nation to stand up and take a stand against Her foreign oppressors. We don’t have a daily prayer or pledge to our country, which can plant the seed of nationalistic pride and patriotism in our bloods from a very young age.

No wonder our brothers and sisters can leave this country behind without so much as a backwards glance. They don’t agonize over their decision to stay on in a country, which they were not born in. They settle down there, make themselves at home and when the time comes, give up the citizenship of their birth to adopt a new one.

Many, from my father’s generation, sneer at the thought of going back to a “country that has no future” and that’s “gone to the dogs”. When Maa-Janani took the incredibly difficult and life-altering decision to move back to India, two young kids in tow, while Daddy Dearest stayed on so that he could provide for us, many of her ‘friends’ started placing bets on how long she would last. Well, it’s been two decades and counting…and neither she, nor her daughter (i.e., yours truly!) have gone back.

I’m happy here. I truly am. Corruption and poverty notwithstanding. Traffic situation worsening. Female equality still not happening in its truest sense. And regardless of so many other things that get my goat so much so that it makes me want to scream out loud in frustration, I am happy here.

Nowhere else will my right to ‘belong’ be questioned. I am not looked upon with mistrust or distaste when I cross the street or go to shop. I watch “Legend of Bhagat Singh”, “Chak De India!” and “Lagaan” and I weep during so many different scenes that I finish up a tissue box. I sing “Dhonno Dhann-ey Pushpey Bhora” loudly and with all the great gusto that I can muster. I proudly declare that the ‘Mahabharata’ is the world’s finest, greatest and most complete epic (of course I can totally understand why the Greeks feel the same way about the ‘Odyssey’, but that’s another argument altogether). My eyes eagerly seek out the Indian contingent at the Olympics and when Bindra wins India her firs ever individual gold, I cheer and clap and cry.

So it saddens me that we, as a generation, lack patriotism. We need to recite a daily reminder that helps us realise that we belong to a country with a great past and heritage and a shining future looming ahead. We need to feel proud.

And it is achievable. We just need something, a verse, an oath, a poem, pledge, piece of prose... something, to help us achieve it. And it’s out there. I know it is.

I’ve heard it.

I remember, before I was bound tightly and inescapably by the ties of motherhood, I was working for one of the premier edutainment industries in the country. My job description had me visiting schools and addressing assemblies or classrooms.

I was invited to address an assembly in one of the Kendriya Vidyalayas in good ol’ Beantown. There, I heard and saw something that stoked the patriotic embers of my spirit. An important part of the daily ritual was an oath that all the children took, hand stretched out in front, voices as one and seriousness and absolute conviction writ large upon each and every face. I felt chills run up and down my spine and goose pimples prick me all over as I heard the moving and oh-so stirring pledge recited in front of me. I wondered why more children were not privy to this.

This is what each and every school across the country should include in their daily routine. This is what each and every child across the country should learn to recite on a daily basis. One day, they will all ultimately feel the power and beauty of those words.

And it the poetry and intensity of those words that will ground our children to their country. Give them roots. Give them strength. And most importantly, place the fierce spark of nationalistic pride in their hearts, mind, blood and soul.

To a more patriotic future. Happy 61st Independence Day!

Jai Hind!

Fear In Our Hearts

Yesterday, an e-mail was sent to a news station, wherein a dreaded terrorist group had threatened to simultaneously set off bombs in certain well-known areas of Kolkata at 10 pm. Among the list was a hospital (?!?!?), the High Court, some of the busiest, bustlingest areas of the city, and a couple of residential areas...including ours.

For two whole hours, the city had come to a standstill. The residents were paralysed by an unknown fear. Those who were out on the streets, were praying to get back home to their loved ones. Those of us who were sitting at home, eyes glued to the TV sets, were praying for our loved ones to return safely to us. After the clock had struck the crucial hour, the police announced that they had managed to trace the mail to a cyber cafe and the whole thing turned out to be a hoax.

I won't go into the different conspiracy theories doing the rounds right now, but I do want to talk about being scared by something faceless yet so dangerous.

The Man I Married, whenever he gets disgusted with the politics of the country, the corruption, the unreasonable demands that education makes on children, the growing concern for a child's safety and security, and a whole host of other issues, starts to seriously fantasize about migrating to another country. In fact, it's a favourite past-time of his.

MIM: How about Switzerland? We don't have to worry about any wars there, right? It's a neutral country after all. Then there's Iceland where I believe children are really safe. Holland is beautiful...

M4 (i.e. me): What about the North Pole?

MIM: Not a bad idea...isn't that were Santa Claus lives? The boys are bound to be happy and safe there! After all, who would want to bomb Santa Claus?

Hmph, the same people who could think of bombing a hospital or holding young children and their parents hostage in school. How ugly is our world becoming?

I hated being so afraid yesterday. I was afraid for the Man I Married who had gone out of town and was driving back at night and hadn't reached yet. I was afraid for my Mamus who traveled by local transport, weary and exhausted after a long day at work. And most of all, I was worried for my two innocent children, fast asleep in their bed, not knowing what was happening and how Mamma was feeling.

Fear is crippling. And I hate these people who have such a hold over us. And that's just the beginning of my once miniscule 'hate list'. It has grown in epic proportions since last night. I hate looking over my shoulder searching for God-alone-knows-what. I hate that I have started looking at a cycle with a mixture of terror and cynicism. I hate that I have started looking upon people with suspicion and mistrust. I hate that I have to think fifty times before I step out somewhere, alone or with my boys. I hate feeling unsafe. And most of all, I hate that I should have to bring up my sons in this environment of hate.

Yesterday's hoax, scare, dirty joke or whatever you choose to call it should be a wake-up call to us all. We should fight back. We need another "India's Most Wanted" programme. We need to show the police and the armed forces our support; that we believe in them and will offer our unstinting faith and cooperation. Faith can move mountains, they say. Maybe, if we show them a little faith and support, the corruption that exists might disappear. We need to be proud of our country again. We have to start believing 'Mera Bharat Mahaan' and we need to instill this feeling of nationalistic pride in our children. We need to set up a citizen's watch in each and every neighbourhood. We need to show the world that we will not cower and hide in caves. Each and every one of us, across the length and breadth of this country, need to show those that would do us harm, a collective middle-finger.

We need to fight back and show these asshole terrorists that maybe they can bully us and bomb our streets, but they can't bomb our spirits, our faith, our love for country.