Rejervation!

Not quite so long ago (in terms of history of a country, anyway) - 1947 to be specific, there was this woman called Renuka Ray. She was apparently, the minister for Relief and Rehabilitation, and when she made her first speech(July 18 1947), had this (presumably, with reference to the constitution) to say:

"Mr President, I raise to support clause 19 section 2 - providing for territorial representation without reservation of seats. We are particularly opposed to the reservation of seats for women, which we consider to be an impediment to our growth and an insult to our intelligence and our capacity"

Later on, she went on to say that they (women) had trusted men and the society and that was wrong and that "election after election, the proportion of women in parliament barely made it past 10%"


She seems to have been a lady who was capable of taking the country forward. Rather unfortunate that "men" have conned her out of her chance.

It is precisely this relentless bashing of the male sex in the name of feminism that I absolutely cannot accept. One side of the issue is that: Either say everybody's equal in all respects, and have an open competition based purely on competence. Or, have reservations, in which case, naturally you are admitting that you are not competitive in an open competition.

Which is true to an extent when it comes to politics. India is a place where the loudest voice is always correct. Footwear flinging, microphone misuse, name calling is rampant at the highest levels in the government.  And women(the non-feminist, capable, proper women kind, anyway) are unable to compete at this level. And reservations are definitely necessary to get them past this. But so are reservations for educated people, people who do not, in the immortal words of Kokki Kumaru, need to feel for the presence of their head on their neck after waking up every morning. People with doctorates. People who can communicate without resorting to absolute animal behaviour. These are the people who are capable of bringing India forward. And the proportion of these people in the government is like the proportion of the masala filling in the samosa you get for 10 rupees: You have to search for it with a fine toothed comb.

And the same goes for reservations based on caste, based on religion and so on and so forth. An open competition will result in the maximum competence possible. At the same time, it is important to ensure that all the sections of the society are offered equal opportunities AND equal resources. Which, at the very basic school level in itself seems rather impossible, with private schools having doctoral candidates as teachers and the free government schools have underpaid, overworked, disillusioned and disinterested individuals teaching. Who, in the first place, got their jobs through reservations.

And that is why the system in India is designed for mediocrity and only that. At best, we'll be second best. And unless someone sees the holistic picture, that's not going to change. And I don't see anybody who has the power, capable of seeing the holistic picture, because they simply don't have the vision.

After all, They got there through reservations.

Prima Facie

So how did it come about that Alamelu fought with her husband Paal-Pandi and went to stay at her mother's place?


It all started on that typically Chennai Monday morning, and Alamelu had gone to wash the cows, leaving him to mind the paal-kadai and supervise the deliveries. The two daughters of the vakeel(who lived down the road in the big "Lakshmi-illam") stopped by his shop daily on their way back from their morning jog to buy milk. The bigger one studied in Ethiraj college and the younger one was still in school. He enjoyed his run-ins with them, and felt that they were the only ones in the neighbourhood who deserved a dose of his english (howareyoumaguttaa?). On that day, he had just opened the shop up and he couldn't help overhear snatches of their conversation as they approached

"..nethu yepdi?
"...tama irundhudhu. Nalla padam nu sonnange, Gautam Menon padam nu ponen...Simbhu nalla nadichirukkan nu vere sonnange. Useless! Hi Pandi anna!"

And Paalpandi could barely manage a nod. He was speechless, struck dumb at the thought that two (presumably) well educated, socially aware and intelligent girls could ever expect a film starring Simbhu to be good. So flabbergasted that he forgot to mix water into the milk.

Alamelu's anger knew no bounds.

Pride goes

Nice weather + snow = lots of puddles, and slush and half melting ice.


Its nice being able to splash right through the puddles and the slush without a care, thanks to my shoes. Not caring very much for the people plotting careful routes to keep their designer footwear dry. And then getting to the half melted ice and slipping and the sensation of succumbing to gravity.


Well, on the way back, the ice came first. I was very very careful this time. And then nothing could stop me from gloating at the designer-shoes-people while I splashed through the puddles and the slush.

Karma's a bitch. And I spanked Karma. 

People endorsing unrelated products because their names are a bit similar

There hasn't been a picture in a while, has there?

Lalit Modi, For Modi Continental Tires. 




*Idea shamelessly plagiarized from Sniffpetrol. 

So!

I read a lot, so.. I have come across most cliched situations within the genres that I read, and some not so typical ones as well. And one of the most typical ones is the protagonist, male or female, pretty or handsome, egg shaped head or headless or whatever, is struck dumb. And belonging to the (I'd like to think) not so common species of men whose members have something to say in any given situation, I found that sort of a situation rather dubious. Well, not dubious, really, just hard to imagine. Until now.

A nice day actually, today, was warm by Russian-winter standards. The temperature was hovering around zero-ish. And I had some time between classes to scoot back to my room and grab a spot of lunch. So homeward bound, and I found assorted baggage just outside my room. With a "what the devil" on my lips I entered to encounter one of my neighbours asking for my help in moving those bags downstairs to the street. So carrying those bags, down we(my friends, him and I) went and to the street where we rather cleverly arranged the bags in an unobtrusive corner so as not to hamper anybody else's mobility. And as I stepped back to admire my handwork, this aforementioned neighbour proceeded to thrust some currency into my hands. And conversation proceeded so:
 
Me: Dude, What the..(vocabulary that'll make my parents wonder about their competence in raising me)?
Him: This is also work!
Me: If this was work, we wouldn't have done it, we did it because you needed help. Useless fellow!
Him: Dude, take it, please. My friend asked me to give you.
Me: No way, dude.
Him: Please! please dude, take it. please, please, please!!
Me: No way, I'm sorry.

And I walked away, crossed the road to join my friends who had rather cleverly run for it,  seeing the situation. Entered the market opposite, and spent some time undercover. Then, crossed the road again to walk homeward, to observe him standing and waiting for an automobile of some sort to pick the assortment of luggage up. Asked him if the car was going to come soon, and he said it would be. Probably he was feeling like a spanner as well, and since we're neighbours (and guys, in fact), it'll all be forgotten. But as far as uncomfortable situations go, this must've been up there among the top, and my already low estimate of Malaysia as a country and its citizens has now dropped to below sea level.