A Home For Chutki

Chutki was one of the privileged lots. Having a mother for a stray and a well kept Labrador for a father gave Chutki a rather unusually sweet puppy face which seemed to floor all the kids in the gully. Of course, that also meant the other ordinary looking strays picked on Chutki. While Chutki’s mother defended him valiantly at the beginning, soon the puppy started getting stronger on a rich diet of leftovers secretly smuggled to him by the kids in the surrounding area, and started to fight back on his own.

But for all his fighting, Chutki remained an adorable puppy in his heart. He played with the kids and slept in the backyard of Keya’s house. Only 16, Keya was not as privileged as her loyal friend Chutki. Owing to an accident before birth, Keya lost the use of her legs from spine downwards. However, growing up in the confines of a wheel chair didn’t dampen her enthusiasm for life. And Chutki added to the fun.

Nilima, Keya’s mother found Chutki’s presence bothersome. She always thought of her daughter as vulnerable. May be seeing her fighting for her life in a incubator after birth and then being confined to that dreaded wheel chair made her think of Keya as a fragile thing. And Chutki was full of infections, bacteria and dirt. Mother and daughter often butted head over the stray mutt, but Keya always won. Nilima could never so say no to her daughter. But the issue remained and came up every time Chutki disgraced himself by doing something “bad” near her mother.

But Keya had a staunch supporter of Chutki in her much older sister Shreya. Wise and motherly even at the age of 27, she always looked after Keya with great patience. So when Shreya finally found her match in life, Keya was both happy and sad. But there was shopping to do, arrangements to be made, which kept Keya busy; too busy to even take care of Chutki. But Chutki took no offense and continued to sleep in the backyard.

The night before the wedding, the house was full of relatives and chats continued till midnight. There was laughter and happiness in the air and even Chutki dozed off with a warm fuzzy feeling that came off from the house. Soft, dry leaves gave the puppy a comfortable bed and soon he was snoring away like Keya’s aunt and uncles.

But sometime right before day break the whole household woke up to screams and squeals. A man’s voice shouting for help could be distinctly heard, along with the sharp barks of several strays from the street. Lights came on and the whole family rushed out to a very horrific scene. Chutki, looking much terrifying then his usual cute self, was hanging on to the leg of a masked man who was trying to use a knife to get the dog away. But Chutki, despite the few bleeding cuts on his body, showed no signs of relenting.

Soon, the thief was surrounded by a bunch of strays and Keya’s family. The police came and took him away. Chutki was rushed to the nearest vet by Keya’s father. When the dog returned two days later, he was the hero of the apartment and the darling of keya’s family. Nilima cried as she held the dog that had saved them from a great catastrophe. Chutki finally found his family and home.

Falling flyovers and exploding bombs – Will we ever be safe?

Give Me Blood, and I Promise you Freedom! - Had shouted one of the greatest freedom fighters in earnest. We are still giving blood, 60 years later, but what have we gained in return? We live in fear and apathy; of falling flyovers and exploding bombs.

The Punjagutta Flyover that crashed yesterday, causing terror in the heart of Hyderabad, so soon after the twin blasts showed again just how unprepared and almost uncaring our administration is. Ironically we are the ones you give them the position and power that today they so happily use to their own gain.

Are we the victims of our own decisions? Doesn’t the people’s representative have any responsibility towards the people? Even movie stars are afraid to anger their supporters, but our politicians are not.

Faulty constructions, corruption, lack of infrastructure and security in a speedy emerging city- and what we get in return for the administrations shortcomings? A check of one lakh rupees and insincere condolences.

And let’s not only point the finger at the administrations. What are we as citizens doing? We don’t even vote for the deserving candidates. We are the ones that choose these irresponsible governments. Can’t we bring them down too? Can’t we hold them culpable and demand answers and solutions? Is it always for some political party to call and strike and protest for their own personal gain? Educated IT professionals were among the dead in both the blasts and yesterday’s flyover collapse. This is one of Indians growing vital section. If these people cannot bring the administration to bear then who can?

Even as accusations fly high, I can recall hearing that the flyover was unsafe one whole year ago. I have read letters to the editor in papers complaining about the chaos this so-called venture was creating in the traffic situation. But was anything done? May be we should wait for one of the chief ministers to be squished under the concrete to get an reaction? I highly doubt that. In India, a value of life is nothing.

The papers have reported that rescue efforts didn’t kick in until two hours after the collapse. Isn’t this time the administration woke up to the pathetic condition of its emergency response system? Can’t build a team of trained professionals and equip them with the hardware to be able to move and counter such situations in time? Is our hard earned money more useful to protecting one useless man’s life then protecting the many thousands who have given that man the position?

I know I have asked many questions in this blog. I hope our younger generation is ready to step up and answer these questions and start demanding our safety and security in return for the sweat and blood that they are giving to this country.

Veiled Dancer

This is actually a prop from the Ramoji Film City. The front of the statue is totally broken. But from behind its all grace.

Haflong Day’s: A bonfire night in the station

Haflong is a cold place, especially in winter. At an elevation of 513 m (1,683 ft) above sea level, this hill station pretty much never gets hotter then 25 Celsius and never cooler then 4-3 Celsius. But the wind chill can be a killer, especially if you are sitting in a Railway platform in the open at 10 in the night.

My memory is fuzzy but I think I was around 7 years old. Our family was on our way to vacationing in Goa. That meant we had to go from Haflong to Guwahati. From there another train to Kolkata; the Rajdhani to Mumbai and finally a short flight to Goa.

But it all had to start somewhere and that somewhere was Lower Haflong Station. A month long vacation for the whole family meant a whole lot of luggage at that time and we had come to the station with plenty of to spare. I don’t remember if the train was late, but I remember we waited quite a long time.

It was freezing cold. My hands, ear and nose were all red..I dare say I must have looking like Rudolf the reindeer at this point. My brother had gotten pally with a few local tribal boys and was having a good time. I was trying to keep myself warm by running on the platform with occasional screams from my mother to watch out.

Suddenly I heard this crackling sound, and could smell something burning. Turning around I saw a bonfire on the edge of the platform. I ran up and saw that most people had started gathering around a few burning fences topped off with dry kindling.

Soon someone found a kettle of tea to heat up over that fire, someone fished out some munchies and someone started humming a tune. We spent the rest of the time waiting for the train by plain an impromptu game of Antakshari around a bonfire sitting with strangers who became friends for that night.

Need Coffee To Live?

Don't we all. I mean need coffee to live? My mother will disagree. She swears by tea. But then she is old generation (she is so killing me for this). I my self didn't become a caffiene worshipper until I went to study in Chennai. Here I had two major compulsions which led me to convert to Caffeinism - One, we had 90 minutes long classes which could be survived only by drinking gallons of coffee and two, the smell of filter coffee was just too damn enticing. It also didn't help that my then room-mate and current best friend can't string a simple sentence together without having her cup of black coffee. So every morning after kicking me off the bed and sending me to finish a hurried bath she would present me with a cup of that poison and who could say no to such indulgence in hostel life.

Since then coffee and I have had a tumultuous relationship. There has been times when sloppy quality had driven us apart. Sometimes, stressful life has brought us too close together for comfort. There had been days when I could only tolerate coffee in my life, when I had confessed my deepest sins to a coffee mug. But at the end of the day, I confess I do need coffee to live. But I will take my tea on Sundays!