Shashi Tharoor Twittered!

We, Indians, have this way with emotions that is quite unique in all aspects of understanding. It’s difficult to decipher when and how we’ll be offended. It has something to do with our DNA that defines us the way we are and the funny thing is that we are absolutely OKAY with it. I guess there must be a strong reason behind this whole panorama, to say the least. But for the time being, let the sleeping devil lie!

I have no issue with us being Indians and acting all “Indian”, be it our choice of cinema, our music, way of life and humor but it gets on my nerve when I see our dear MEDIA trying to milk away on us. The recent episode of Shashi Tharoor (I’m sure you all know him; if not, then Google him. Its time you do) and his “tweeting” controversy (labeled Twittergate!!!), all scrutinized and condemned by the politicos and journos, tells us how much our so-called fourth estate needs a change of view, just for a change.


Well, Shashi Tharoor is not the everyday corrupt MP that India is so used to and he comes from an elite background and a career that glistens in his everyday life activities (Tweeter being one of them).

Tweeter is gumption in today’s world and I can’t exclude India from that world, even if it’s confined to just urban areas. It’s a kind of mini-blogging site where you can post message or sentence of 140 characters including the space and punctuations. In simpler words, it’s a craze of sort. Or else, how can we explain the presence of dignitaries like Barack Obama, Kevin Rudd and Gordon Brown, gleefully tweeting on it, and not to mention other famous and big shots like Oprah Winfrey, Ashton Kutcher, Jonathan Ross, Hugh Jackman and sports personalities like Andy Murray, Williams Sisters, Shaq O’Neal and Lance Armstrong. Some renowned Indians too have made their presence (read Tweets) felt on Twitter including Pritesh Nandy, Chetan Bhagat, Priyanka Chopra and Karan Johar but SHASHI THAROOR takes the cake with 231,635 followers, as of now.

Tharoor’s presence on Twitter definitely contributed to its success in India. He has this aura of success, achievement and definitely a missing demeanor that is the need of time. He is an able diplomat cum author cum human rights activist. His success in recent General Election in which he shook the stronghold of communist party in Thiruvananthapuram, his constituent now, is a breather for many. But one cardinal rule remains true to Shashi Tharoor: He is not a politician. And this ‘liability’ is what making the mountain of a mole in Tharoor’s case. But does he really need to be one to serve his beloved nation?

About a week or so ago, he was asked by a journalist on Twitter whether he too will travel in cattle class (a famous reference to anything crowded), in view of the recent austerity drive preached and ‘proposed to be practiced’ by the ruling party, Congress, to which Tharoor belongs. Since the question was asked in jest, he too answered in jest saying “absolutely, in cattle class out of solidarity with all our holy cows.”

Of course, he didn’t mean any offense considering the fact that he isn’t the kind who shies away from temple to prove his western outlook. But the way the media played the role of devil’s advocate was not only tiresome and clichéd but even haphazard in some sense. They encroached on his Twittering as if it was a crime of sort.

The media joke didn’t end there. It went on publish stories of how Tharoor was complaining about excessive workload that was backlogging on him due to his 6 days visit to Liberia and Ghana. Thankfully, Tharoor continued twittering about his visit in bright positivity on strengthening international relationships. The sad part was, when instead of covering the African visit, the media was busy pinning on Twittergate and its backlashes from opposition party demanding Tharoor’s resignation!!

Media just couldn’t overcome the hangover on that stupid joke that was supposed to be forgotten like our wise PM suggested. I’m glad our PM is a man to reckon with, not the usual fools we have up there.

I read Tharoor was supposedly asked to refrain from Twittering which I don’t think he adhered to, thus debunking the hogwash of our everyday newspapers and lot. He is a public servant and he needs to keep his personal perspective in check and I do agree with the required code of conduct but I don’t think you need to teach a guy who spent almost three decades as a diplomat in United Nations and had a Ph.D at the age of 22 and has authored more than ten books. His only crime was his sense of humor!

In a country where politicians are hardly looked up to, let alone followed, Tharoor is ray of hope for us or at least to me. I’ve been following him since long and I was thrilled with his appointment as a Minister in External Affairs. I’m active on Twitter too and follow Shashi Tharoor’s comments with zeal because he exudes this enigmatic charm that was absent in almost all of the past public servant, may be due to lack of Internet Age or maybe, plain lack of magnetism!

One thing is for sure, now, Mr. Tharoor must be well aware of Indian Media’s strong ambiguity when it comes to a guy who spent most of his life traveling around the world and settles down in India with a silver ticket to Parliament!!!!!

I wish I could write down...

I wish I could write down like I used to... but now-a-days its more like laziness has crept over me and I'm stranded inside of me. I'm working two jobs 6 1/2 days a week to make sure my idle mind doesn't get it fodder for devil and my pocket stays comfy. But still I'm getting all weaned up of my earlier creative side which included newspaper clippings and poems and stories and novels alike.

I wish I could write down like I used to... about the times I felt like killing my wrist and live but I never did it and instead used to pen, to write down the shame. I wrote down everything that I felt under sunburn. Today, I'm writing it all but not in details like I used to. My words are not as sharp as it was with life before, with narrow tips and broader lips, I used to catch all my figments with words.

I wish I could write down like I used to... with angst and pangs and songs and dance performed by paragraphs and stanzas and quarts and limericks and acrostics and haikus. But those were the times when I had lot of time to gaze into the greenery around the emptiness of sky and the cloud of rains and smile. I laughed a lot then with hardly any care of how the brutal world could get and how wrong was I.

I wish I could write down like I used to... of endless anecdotes I'd love to entail for legacy to be made out of me. I know this futile dream of fame and glory for my work which I haven't did, is so true to me. Its so numbingly naive and full of dices and displays of luck at every crossroad of time. I don't desire to be read now for I don't care anymore. I just wish to write like I used to.

I wish I could write down like I used to... like I'm doing now...

A prank gone all wrong

The following is inspired by a true story...

There was this girl in a Medical College and stayed in hostel. She was beautiful, rich and spoilt. She was a bit disturbed by some personal problems and didn't like mingling with other students on campus. This created a sort of sequestrated feel about her character. She was probably the only girl around without any friends, not even female ones. No one knew why she was disturbed and what was her side of the story. Though a lot of fellow students, particularly boys tried to make an advance and kindle friendship with her but she stayed aloof and rejected any relationship. The boys were kept at a distance and girls were envious-pretty balanced scale of enmity.

Slowly but steadily she was becoming the talk of the campus not only because of her solitude but also because of her beauty. She wasn't particularly attentive in classes or practicals but she made sure she was never absent. The teachers had no issue with her detached personality since her grades were decent.
Once, a brash boy who thought he could claim to be the first to develop 'contact' with her, decided to express his love to her and the words he used were heavy with emotions but didn't create the same reaction on the girl. On the contrary, she went ballistic with her rigid response and called him names such as Romeo, chauvinist and a fool!

This encounter from which he had expected to bear romance had gone all sour and prickly. He was no doubt hurt but he wasn't the one to stay silent. He decided to teach this arrogant girl a lesson. He contemplated a plan he thought wasn't horrible but no less innocent either. He along with some of his friends decided to play a prank on her.

So, this girl returned to her room like usual after visiting library and having food at local mess. As soon as she entered the room and locked the door, someone strapped the door shut from the outside as well. Obviously, she was irritated and surprised by this act. She called out to open the door and kept on banging it. But no one responded as if like the whole hostel had gone deaf.
Tired of this prank, she retired to her bed. As she leaned back to lay her head on the pillow, she felt something under the pillow. This was the actual prank awaiting her. So out of curiosity and anger, she lifted the pillow to find an amputated hand which no doubted was made available from College morgue.

A deep shriek boomed out of the room. This cry of fear was reciprocated by a equally loud choir of laughter from the crowd standing outside the door, presumably waiting to hear the bawl. But the laughter outnumbered the wailing voice because the deep sound of fear and angst didn't repeat but the laughter kept on multiplying.
The prank was supposed to have ended here and someone was supposed to unlock the door and let the poor soul out. But that didn't took place, may be everyone were so indulged in laughing riot that they forgot to lower curtain on the show.
As many hours passed by, one of the participating girl realized that no one had opened the door and she decided to open it herself but at the last moment thought it would be better if someone would accompany her so she asked one of her friend and ultimately collected a few more students and they all came to open the door and see if the girl was asleep or what.

But the sight they were going to witness was neither called for nor planned but a severe consequence of a blatantly irresponsible act. As soon as the door flanged open, they saw that there was no one bed, nor under it, the windows were tight shut from inside, and this created panic. Amid this ill puzzlement, someone from the crowd glanced above to the space between the ceiling and cupboard.

The vision of a girl with dried tears and disheveled hair and strange mannerism greeted them. The girl was sitting devoid of any display of emotion on her face but her teeth were busy chewing something. The very sight of this once beautiful girl turned diabolical sent chills through the crowd because she was indiscreetly chewing the amputated hand that was the tool of joke for the crowd staring below.
The mental trauma the girl suffered is unfathomable but the question is the level of barbarism one can stoop to just to get a kick out of it.

[The credit to this story goes to some independent film makers who made a short film on the same story.]