Mayhem in Mumbai!

This isn’t the first disaster to strike Mumbai. But it was the first HUGE terror to strike after the ’93 serial blasts. And, this time it’s worse as the blasts were on soft targets. The most vulnerable and effective. Effective because it strikes at the root of the existence of the common man in Mumbai – the local trains. The locals are the first image that comes to one’s mind whenever one thinks of Mumbai. The attempt is to distort that happy (however sweaty, grimy, suffocating and cumbersome may it be) image of a commuter in Mumbai.

The resilient but humane face of the Mumbai man was evident instantly. People rushing to help others. Providing the affected with the basic amenities – water for instance. And, carrying on business as usual – as though nothing ever happened. Indomitable, never-say-die and heart-warming. That’s a Mumbaikar for you. During the colossal cloud-burst of the last year, thousands of men, women and children volunteered to help the stranded. They were there everywhere. They’d ask the stranded commuters walking back home after a day (or even two) to use their bathrooms to freshen up, provide them with biscuits and water and even offer free rides wherever possible. I have personally met guys who hadn’t slept a wink through the night but were feeling great for having ferried people in their Tata Sumos and scooters. Hardly any report of looting, rape, molestation, or overcharging for essential commodities took place. Contrast this with any other place in the world – including the US where Katrina battered not just the coastal towns and cities but the entire reputation of a developed and hence more civlised world.

Even these serial blasts may not act as a barrier or a restraint on migrants who want come to Mumbai with stars in their eyes and dreams in their heart, wanting to strike it big. Even as a big vegetable vendor or a shoe-shiner. The city hasn’t shunned anyone. This city has seen more success stories than probably all the cities and metros in India put together. It invokes in me the image that is a combination of Las Vegas, Los Angeles and New York. Despite a bloated population, despite the most hard-pressed infrastructure the city has thrived and survived and succeeded. Along with all the starry-eyed dreamers (thanks no less to them). Until now.

But how many disasters can Mumbai take? How long would Mumbai’s commoners stand up and start rebuilding? The city that’s bursting at its seams and is fast turning into a necropolis needs a critical surgery. The dream of becoming Shanghai lays shattered.

What should be done to preserve the magic of Mumbai?

How do I serve you Master?

“First should we walk or hit the gym?” I asked Charles.
“Let’s walk first. That way I’ll loosen up”.

We had just crossed the milestone. “Sir do you know, Chutki has left working for us?” Charles asked me
“Oh! But you’d earlier said she wasn’t keeping well?”
“Actually there was a small altercation between Mini and Chutki. Mini, irritated by Chutki ticked her off and told something to the effect of not wanting her anymore. She’s not coming to work after that”
“Oh!”
“Mini’s now planning to go to the Chief and telling him could a CPL behave like THAT!”
“Hmm…”
“We pay them so much. If we were in IMTRAT we’d have paid a fraction of what we pay here. And, those servants are much easier to handle!”
I had nothing to say to that.

Once we were back from walk and the gym, we headed to Charles’ house. “Sir, come home. We could have nimboo-paani”. I couldn’t resist. The earlier scene repeated with Mrs. Charles recounting her woes due to her maid!
“I’d want to ask the Chief, how could a CPL behave like this!” and more.

I walked back home. After dinner as I was pacing up and down I thought about the state of maids/menservants working not just at Dantak but elsewhere. True today in India – especially in Mumbai – there are associations of people working at homes. They also are demanding for certain basic rights – like casual leave, medical facilities, etc. And, these associations also are trying to provide the community help.

We expect our maids/menservants to listen to us completely, subserviently and unstintingly. We are exacting. We want them to not question anything. Just do it, is the policy. Do it as I say. They should maintain a distance in every aspect. They also have to be insulted periodically for not being good enough. And to show off our own benevolence too. “If anyone else had you as a maid/servant, you’d have been unemployed by now. I’ve been nice to you, and you will do well to understand and remember it” is one of the most common reproaches heard in almost every home across the country.

Anything goes missing at home (even due to our own fault) the first finger of accusation points at the maid/servant. “Did you see my purse?” “Where has my blue shirt vanished?” “What happened to all the milk that was there?” are questions heard daily across households. They are monitored perennially. Rebuke and reprimand are the rewards they get regularly for their efforts to keep our houses clean and functional.

The lot of those that work for the Army Officers is even worse. Maids/servants are ‘trained’ to be servile, ultra-obedient. When a glass of water is served, it better be on a tray, with the maid/servant bowing sufficiently, eyes looking at the ground and with one hand behind her/his back! They better offer/serve/give anything with both hands or face the consequences – ranging anywhere from a nasty abuse to a slap across the face. Small price to pay of course for the prestige of working for an officer! And, come to think of it the same officers would take their dogs in official vehicles as they need some fresh air!

(In Bhutan the Army Officers are paid a whopping Rs.10,500 as Servants’ Allowance (it’s not available for other officers; half-hearted efforts are on to set the anomaly right) to hire two servants/maids. Most officers hire just one and at the most pay Rs.2300 per month but declare through a certificate that they’re hiring two servants and are paying them Rs.5K each!)

We however do take pride in our contribution to the welfare of these people! We gloat over the old clothes or shoes that we ‘donate’ to them. Or the odd ration that’s given away (that was anyway in excess or inedible).

It’s not that maids/servants aren’t at fault at all. Or that they don’t commit mistakes. But then who doesn’t? Are we all free from faults? ‘Doodh mein dhule!” But how dare one compare oneself (or even worse, another officer) with a maid? It’s sacrilege! Anytime a maid/servant appears in the newspapers it's when there's a theft or a murder. And, they'd be the prime suspects. The first thing we hear in conversations after that would be, "God, it's so unsafe to hire helps these days. You can't trust them. All of them are either thiefs or murderers". But when a story appears in the media informing about a son/daughter committing the same against parents none actually makes a statement, "Gosh! You can't trust your young ones anymore! I don't want to have a child" or "I'm planning to banish my children as I'm scared that they might do that to me!" At most one would utter, "Such unfortunate parents to have such a son/daughter". No more!

Is a maid/manservant not entitled to have ego or self-respect? Can’t we treat them like human beings? May be it’s too much to ask!

How do the shoes fit?

Is there anything to me beyond ‘I, me, mine, myself’, and such other pronouns? Anything that I think of is always from my perspective. Isn’t it possible for me to think from someone else’s perspective? Yes, there are times when I do not say/do things that would hurt, anger or humiliate another person. But then again that’s the result of thinking from my perspective. “I would be hurt if I heard that” feeling. Or because I have learnt that s/he hurts when I say ‘it’ from past experience. I don’t know the ‘how/why’ of it though. Much as I try to put myself in someone else’s place/shoes I fail. Either I don’t find that someone’s place or I find the shoes too tight/loose to wear!

Am I one of the rare persons who think and behave like this (always from ‘I angle’) or is it the case with most people? I wonder. I want to know. I think I will start with asking all people I know if they always think from their own view or if they can see through someone’s eyes – as sung by heroes/heroines in Hindi movies!

Tail piece
Was talking to AV yesterday. He echoes what I feel. But he emphatically also stated, “None can think from another’s perspective. There are moments when one understands another. That’s called empathy”. I would like to hear more on this though!

Wasted Chances

I wish I was compassionate
I’d not have caused misery and pain lasting years

I wish I was courageous
I’d live my life with Pride

I wish I was learned
I could start my life afresh

I wish I was wise
I wouldn’t perpetuate mistakes

I wish the day had 48 hours
My laziness wouldn’t matter then

I wish I were dead
I could live once again!

I wish I knew what I wanted
I wouldn’t be writing this pathetic piece

The raging rage in me!

I'm boiling. I am hot all over. I feel like a volcano all about to burst forth and bring about a rain of gaseous thunder, burning ash and the molten lava that could destruct everything in its wake.

Even as I write this I’m fuming. There is so much rage inside me. I don’t know the reason for this rage. Nor do I know the stimulus for this rage to show its head. But suddenly as I tried to regain my composure this time I realized that the rage within me needs to find a vent. My choice of trying to control and fight anger seems to have increased the frustration levels. As I fight the seemingly reasonless/unreasonable anger that surges through my body I see the need to channelise my anger, the need for methods to let the anger flow out without causing further trouble. I can feel the blood pressure shooting up beyond tolerance, I can feel the tingle in every vein of mine as the anger reaches the boiling point.

My head hurts severely as I fight to bring the level of my anger down, I lose control over my fingers and make mistakes as I punch the keys on the keyboard. Everything seems to irritate me no end. What shocks me is the realization that I can even kill someone while I am THIS angry. Astonishingly there's another calmer side to me even during anger that tells me I need to stay quiet.

A friends says it's because of additional adrenaline in the body due to my work-outs! I can't believe that. There's no advent of High Blood Pressure either.

For starts I have resumed my Yoga. Meditation must follow soon I guess!