Iris

So how many New Year wishes, B’day wishes, Job success wishes , etc, etc did you receive this season end on your Orkut, Facebook, etc, etc ?

In India where “lonely hearts” are ample in quantity and quality, where marriages are “distinctly” and “distantly planned”, where singles are not easily allowed to mingle, social networking sites have boomed. Parents are attempting to be “open-hearted”, “broad-minded” by allowing kids to  keep “in touch” with their friends, friend’s friends, friends’-friends- friends — of course not “really” but through these sites. Kids (I will come to adult networking in a short-while) in their turn are happy to be “in touch”. I have observed a particular characteristic in the teenagers and the younger generation on Orkut (that’s the site I mostly follow) — they do not easily write their original names or put their pictures, partly because they are afraid that someone might misuse their names and pictures, and partly because they think it is “fun” to remain anonymous. Of course it is adventurous!   You can find strange names like “horny” , “butterfly”, “bee”, “f****** ghost”, “rambo”, “mah dreams” — sending friend requests, writing funny scraps and hovering around your page and visiting your site at least 30-40 times a day (if your page interests them). While female young networking “bees” take a pride in making new friends , males sometimes get into  extremes. They send queer (using it in its literal sense, no critical meaning implied) messages and threatening friend requests thinking that they can impress — and maybe they do!  Like a “lot can happen o’er coffee”, so also a lot can happen at your networking site …

A very interesting element of these sites are “relationship status” and the funny ways that people deal with this clause. I know of many friends and acquaintances on Orkut who have declared themselves “committed” or even “married” (while “single” in status) to keep away creatures poking nose into their sites unnecessarily. Many of my students (ex-students) have declared themselves in interesting relationship patterns on these social networking sites. Sometimes, parents are shocked to see the site of their teenage son/daughter. I had once come across the site of friend’s younger sister who happened to be a reclusive and introvert in her “visual” life, i.e. as she appeared to us. But, I was amazed to see the breadth of her “virtual” life on her site. She was by all means a hyper-active and more than social  on her page. The image that she projected on her Orkut was so-so very different from that of the image that she had among her friends and fellow-beings. I have observed that teenagers (whom I personally know)  who are a little reserved and self-conscious in their personal lives become very open in their social sites — probably the reason being these sites open up avenues of anonymity yet friendships.These sites are great places to “flout” parental and societal rules.

Coming to adult networking; well it’s a more complex story. In the adult world rather than making friendships, networking sites are more of “partnership” building opportunities in their positive sense. Adults don’t bother making new friends, what we bother about is to be on a look out for opportunities — professional for some while personal for others. For instance, while travelling abroad if you need people to help you out — search for some communities on your networking site, or if you intend to look for jobs or professional networking look for some friends or acquaintances on these sites who might be of help. Similarly, if you are dating a guy or a girl peep into their Orkut/facebook and gain some insight into their “sub-conscious” .

However the complexities that I am talking of are subtle — the story zeroes at  “flaunting” and “pretending” in your network. The  interesting aspect is that these sites turn you into voyeurs peeping into others’ lives. The philosophy behind these networking sites is: projecting to the world what you or your life  is in your personal opinion, as we all intend (even if unconsciously) to be perceived in a certain way. The way the world perceives you on these sites is the way you-yourself want to be perceived. For instance, I may have a pathetic sense of humour in my personal life and I may hardly socialize, but my site might project me as the soul of every party. I may hardly have a philanthropic sense but my site projects me as a saint, I may hardly look gorgeous or hep but my site projects me as a diva with looks that can murder (thanks to hi-fi editing techniques), and thus goes the list.

Related aspects in this web of social networking are arousing “envy” and “flaunting” what you possess while others don’t! Oh, I am in a brilliant educational institution having the “brains” that can make an entire Google go shy of itself, and I have to show it to the “lesser-mortals” that exist in some far away places! I have the brawn and body that can make Angelina Jolie swoon, so let me show myself to the ugly ducklings! I have the palatial mansion of Charles-III , come visit it virtually. I have a job that can mortify Prof. Amartya Sen, so why don’t you see my salary and my office ambience! … thus goes the list.  In fact, the display artefacts can get even to the minutest level of  your new “laptop” or your favourite music system ! Interestingly, if you observe our motive, we display these things not for people whom we don’t know or who are mere acquaintances, these are in fact meant to be shown to people who know us very well and some of whom will be genuinely happy for us, and also for those who might just get “J” (the “J” thing is more pertinent in adults    ). Some of the things that provide  genuine happiness (to most of us I suppose) is to see people’s art, sketches, creative artefacts, photographic samples, things which are beyond material worth.  Rest, one of the first emotions that is provoked is, Oh I wish I had the life which that person has…he/she is so happy! But, we do not realize that it is just a surface veneer which has many layers to the “actual” story.

There are different types of these networking sites — professional, personal and matrimonial. The less said about matrimonial sites the better it is. Maybe another Blog post can be written to specifically cater to matrimonial sites. However, in these sites too the prospective brides/grooms project the best of their image for making themselves lucrative “products” in the matrimonial bazar.

Regarding my personal experiences with social networking sites–hmm, I have a love-hate relationship with them. I am a voyeur thanks to these sites (some of my closest pals chide me for that) and also inspire voyeurism in others  … My anger sometimes bursts forth in form of deleting an entire account with some 5000 precious scraps at one jerk, and then again I re-emerge like a Phoenix from ashes with 55 new pictures (joke intended)  ….

However, we are social creatures and on a positive note these sites teach us to project our very best to the world and be happy and share our happiness. But, on the negative side people take these projected images too seriously and unhealthy, deadly competition is aroused.  I have seen beautiful fairy-tale kind of love stories break due to one stupid error on such sites, friends become enemies and you have more spies than well-wishers to cater to and sometimes even established relationships like  marriages are plunged into danger.  Maturity in thinking and in analyzing is really important when we are part of any group — virtual or real! In fact it is trust, fellow-feeling and the way we handle our relationships which actually determine the kind of person we become in the long term. Unfortunately, most of us commit blunders in this context. By merely brooding over others’ achievements and following blindly their formulae of success may lead us not very far in our life.

So, folks if you are indeed hooked on to any of these sites, then formulate your own style statement and remember that all that glitters is not gold …Happy surfing!

The horizon was deepening into a band of evening orange-red when the train from Midnapur touched seams of “Howrah Station” .

Blare of train horns, noise of the passengers, vendors and the beggars melted into a unique symphony, a symphony common to all railway stations in India. Nalini alighted from the train — her large Kohled eyes looked with awe at the hugeness of the station. She thought to herself that if the station was that big then how big would be the city! A shiver went through her spines. Her uncertain alta marked feet and the jewelery laden body clearly said that she was a newly wed bride who was left by her family to face the huge city alone and begin a new life — by herself with Naren (her husband but a stranger in her life).

Naren followed Nalini out of the train with luggages, goodies, coconuts and betelnut baskets. He too had his apprehensions. He was young, in his twenties, was a clerk in a small accounts firm, had a tiny house somewhere very near to Boubazar main road. Getting married was not in Naren’s priority list but parental pressures and his own health problems caused by unhygienic food habits drove him to get married to Nalini. Little did he realize that he was being married off to the beautiful Nalini. He fell in love with her instantly. Nalini too liked Naren but she was too young to understand the feeling and her distance from Ma-Baba was painful for her to bear.

Since, it was her first day in the city, Naren took Nalini by a taxi so that she would enjoy the sight seeing and get a good view of the city while they journey into their new life. They reached “home” – a decrepit, small two-bedroom house in a narrow-winding gully. Unused to this suffocation and claustrophobic from the constant gaze of neighbours, Nalini immediately went out of her new home to catch some fresh breeze, when Naren went for his bath. She had been outside for only a few moments when Naren worriedly came rushing after her. He commanded her to come inside and threatened saying: “Ki Pagol Me ta! (What a crazy girl) Don’t do this again….This is one of the most notorious localities of Kolkatta…Do you know that this area houses pimps who can take you away? I will take you anywhere you want to but you don’t you dare to get out without my permission…Now come in!”

Nalini burst into tears…not only because she was shocked to have been thrown into a world so different and so terrifying from the beauty of her little home in Midnapur but also because she was shocked to see Naren behave so rude with her. But soon he cooled down and then they started becoming friends bit by bit. However, Nalini could never forget her first evening in Boubazar. After Naren went for office, she would cling to the railings of the back window and keep staring at the roads with blank expressions. She loved Naren and there was no doubt about it! But she also loved her freedom — longed for her life in Midnapur where she ran from friends’ houses to her home late in the evening, was scolded by her mom, yet repeated the story again the next evening. Here she was caged — with a man who was away for work the entire day, came late in the evenings, took her out only on Sundays and brought her home before night-fall and left her with nothingness for the rest of the time.

Once Nalini heard Naren talking to a kid in the neighbourhood about a new temple that had come up close to their locality. She begged Naren to at least let her visit that temple each morning — Naren accepted but asked her to be careful. Since then, the temple steps were Nalini’s recourse after Naren went for office. She would spend there a few hours after Pooja and Arti, just sitting quietly and watching the passerby.

Nalini came to the temple everyday. After a few days, she noticed a young girl, tanned skin, large eyes but extremely attractive watching her movements with intense curosity and happiness. She was afraid for a moment and thought of Naren’s cautions, but then thought “she’s only a girl, she can do no harm“. Nalini noticed that the girl came everyday to the temple and observed her movements. One day she went close to the girl and asked her, “Ki re! Ki bepaar? Why are you observing me everyday in the temple? What’s wrong and who are you?” It seemed the girl was aroused from a deep trance with Nalini’s voice. She was taken aback, but then responded with a polite but curt tone: “Aamar naam Devi (My name is Devi). I sell flowers here boudi, but I like watching you. You are so beautiful and you are newly married na? Aami sab kicchu jaani… (I know everything) I see you coming everyday and offering flowers and also see that you are missing home a lot.” Nalini was touched…she didn’t have much to say and neither was there too much time left in her hands…that day she was unsually late for home. But she liked the girl and she wanted to talk to her…

Soon the friendship between Nalini and Devi started to flower. Each morning Nalini came to the temple after Naren left for office, bought some flowers from Devi and came back, sat on the steps and chatted for hours with Devi. They would discuss their childhood, their toys, friends and Nalini would happily talk about her life with Naren, but for some strange reasons Devi would become uncomfortable and sad. Both were nearly the same age, Nalini was 21 and Devi a year or so older than her. Often, Devi would tell her that she was very fortunate and that not everyone is fortunate to get a wonderful husband like Naren. Nalini would retort saying: “Dhut! You will also get your Rajkumar and then you will tell me…I’ll envy you then!” Devi would then immediately change the topic and harp on how naughty Nalini’s kids will be and that she would herself knit a scarf for the kid when it is born. Devi had a coarse, rugged accent while Nalini was melodious. She had finally found that one friend in Devi whom she had been searching for in Kolkatta. But there were certain things mysterious about Devi like she never told about her whereabouts and she never went inside the temple even when Nalini called her, even though she sold flowers there.

Naren too noticed this welcome change in Nalini. She was now comfortable in the place. She had already gossiped about her friend with Naren and every evening she would enthusiastically wait to tell Naren about the day’s happenings. Naren was curious as to who Devi was, but he understood Nalini’s loneliness and liked the fact that she was talking to this girl of her own age. Each morning after Devi sold the flowers, she had ample time for Nalini and both sat on the steps till noon.

One day Nalini announced shyly to Devi that she was pregnant and Devi was ecstatic. Both discussed all the possible names and would spend hours talking about the health of the child, what food to eat and all that stuff. Soon, Nalini could not go out much and Naren stayed back most of the times to take her care. One day she met Devi and told her she won’t be coming to the temple for some months now. Did she sense tears in Devi’s eyes? Nalini was not sure…Devi replied with a smile: “Of course you should now take rest at home….Why should you come here? I wish I was in your place, be a mother and have a naughty little kid…but…hmmm…leave it….Baudi you’ll come to meet me after the baby is born? I wish to hold the baby in my hands… I have never called anyone baudi in my life” . She held Nalini’s hands in her own hands tight and before Nalini could speak a word she vanished into the alleys.

Many months had passed. The baby was born and Nalini had named her Mrunmoyee (as suggested by Devi). She was caught up with the affairs of the world, but Devi, her eyes, her sharp words and her smile came intermittently into Nalini’s mind. She thought of her only friend in Kolkatta who had taught her to love the city. She had now grown into a woman — firm and in control of herself as well as the world. Naren had no more fears regarding her safety. One day Nalini was restless…she wanted to meet Devi and show her the baby. So, she went to the temple after Naren went for the office. There was no one around and she waited for many hours on the steps — but no sign of Devi. Next day also she went to find her friend and again Devi was nowhere in sight. The process continued for a week — Nalini would come everyday with the baby, wait till noon and go back disappointed.

Finally, in the weekend when Naren was at home, Nalini pestered him to go with her and find Devi, meet her and show her the child. Naren relented to her request. They first went to the temple, asked the Pujari, the flower-sellers and many others around about Devi’s whereabouts, but no one had any answer as to where she was. Finally, a fruit vendor gave a clue, “Oh that girl…she hangs around Chittaranjan Street close to Boubazar…I have seen her there. She was telling another phool-walli that she lives in one of the old houses there.” Naren and Nalini went to the place, looking into the ghettos of people residing near the street. Truck drivers, small shop keepers, pan wallas, children playing with punctured tyres, females wearing old tattered clothes, young girls in colourful salwar-kameezes peeped out from the balconies. The gullies became narrower as they went deeper knocking at each door and asking for Devi — a tanned skin, large eyed girl. Naren was getting nervous and impatient. Nalini pleaded that they should try one more house.

Finally, Naren knocked at the door of a dilapidated old bunglow that looked like British architecture but seemed to be now occupied by illegal occupants and suspicious elements. The door was opened by a lady in mid-sixties dressed in a floral printed saree, crumpled and soiled , with a large bun messily tied. She looked at Nalini and then at Naren and asked in a menacing tone looking at Nalini all the time: “Kai re? aar kauno badi jaga noe, aamar badi theke kyano thuk-thuk karo? (What You don’t have any other place except my home?) Naren was terrified now for he knew where he was, he tried to drag Nalini out of the place, but she retorted and asked him to stop a moment. Confidently, she asked the lady who had turned back to go: “Mashima aekto sono (aunty listen to me)”. The lady was slightly amazed to see this girl’s audacity, so she stopped for a moment and said : “Ki? Bak.” (speak) Then Nalini gave her the description of this girl called Devi and asked her if she knew her or had her address.

The lady was silent. She stood still for a moment and then asked calmly if she was Nalini, the wife of a certain clerk babu? Nalini nodded….The lady replied with an inscrutable tone: “Devi died a few months ago.” Nalini gaped…Naren stood in fix and disbelief as he held Nalini to give her support. “How?” asked Naren…Nalini was blank…“But she was…” the lady filled up the rest: “yes she was very young…like you…she was my girl…no not my daughter but was like my daughter…she worked for my clients”.

“What!!!” screamed Nalini….”Yes she was a ‘worker’ here in the gumnaam streets of Boubazar and she died of this job. She had AIDS for the past one year…”

Nalini and Naren stood still at the threshold of that house. The lady too was quiet. Time had stopped. Devi’s smile haunted Nalini. After what seemed like many hours(but only minutes had passed), Naren held Nalini to lead her away from the place and the memories of Devi. Just as they were about to leave, the woman called from behind: “Nalini ektu thak (wait for a second!) Devi has left something for you.” She went like a bolt inside the darkness and brought a packet from within which she pushed into Nalini’s hands. Nalini was in a shock and so Naren opened the packet. Inside there was a beautiful pink and blue scarf hand knitted with wool and on it was stitched in white “M” …

Nalini said quitely to Naren: “that “M” is for our “Mrunmoyee”… Devi had wished to see her.”

Nalini slowly sobbed and then broke into tears…Kolkatta skies had again coloured into a deep evening orange as they silently walked home.

( P.N : This is a work of Fiction)

Hey, I’m back from a travel spree for the last few weeks and therefore this dark stupor in my blogosphere.

But before writing a travelogue the bulb of my muse caught fire with another idea: “men talk” … “men’s talk”… “what do men talk?” All this is not the same…mind you. While “men talk” refers to the inversion of the old belief that men prefer silence to talking and women are “supposed” to do all the talking, “men’s talk” digs at the possibilities of what men actually talk; “what do men talk” pertains to the never out of fashion curiosity in females regarding the topic of discussion in men’s circles.

At a coeducational school in India, while growing up into hep teenagers, we had a tendency to cluster female-female and male-male in the class. I don’t know why this shying away from the opposite sex — but somehow in school even while teachers tried to put a boy and a girl in a single bench, there was just an uncomfortable grumpy silence between both the poles or the spark went into an opposite pole of love letters being exchanged. As far as my personal life was concerned, I was a loner who spent more time talking to the grass and plants and birds… (list is incomplete ) than a fellow human being. During my under-grad days at an “all” Women’s College in Bhubaneshwar, suddenly started to look with interest at the mindset of the “other sex”. While stealthily and not without a tinge of guilt we picked up the “Mills& Boons” or the “Harlequin Romances” and sat up at night discussing with room mates as to “what do men think?” and “what do they talk?” — somehow I was given an impression by “wise” seniors that “men think and talk about women and nothing else”. I was told that unlike “us” – the “women folk”, men hardly talk among themselves, and never gossip. Is this a myth? reality? Just spend some time before reading further .

And then, during my post-grad days, I had friends who were known “hooligans” of the town and I was hanging around most of the time at the University chai center or at the pani tanki (water reservoir for the university) … realized for the first time that men do talk and they talk a lotttt … they gossip a lot and that they think about many other things “not just women” . How do I know? They might be discussing “just women” in their hostel rooms? Well maybe, there’s a room for doubt — but, then, the point is actually what forms the core of “men’s talk”?

Time has passed and so have we grown with age and experience…

Why this sudden interest in men’s talk? Well, the context was an event of yesterday at a pizza party with a group of friends who happen to be men. Incidentally, I was the only girl in that group. The way they bonded among themselves and the way they gossiped about everything under the sun — “politics, gadgets, department stuffs, papers, gizmos,” etc. , it seemed I was just a distant blur in their conversational sphere. Right from credit cards to invitation cards to recharge vouchers (I learnt that there’s something new called “Jadoo” that holds their interest) to pens and watches, ufff! You can be driven crazy. Interestingly, rather than competing about whose girl-friend/girlfriend is how charming, they competed who spent how much money and for God’s sake whose credit card was how beautiful!!!!!!! :0 … “See his is a jet black with real silver-platinum coat”… “Oh mine is just a silver one but I have spent more than 15000 bucks in the last 15 days from it” … and so on. Finally they decided (can you believe it!) to PHOTOGRAPH THE CREDIT CARDS!!!!! … and they did it to everyone’s surprise! Poor girls, beautifully decked up, sitting at other tables must have been so hugely disappointed (no one photographed them ) .

There were many other things to talk about like “what is the acceptance rate of which conference?” … “whose supervisor is how —?” “what is the current placement scenario?”, “what is cooking in the sting operation camps?”, “what is happening in the neighbor’s life?” … I was baffled by the breadth and length of their topics. Where were girls in their conversation? They were fringe creatures sometimes mentioned with a little happy desire for the “other” … rest it was just gadgets, credit cards and material acquisitions that held their interest. I chuckled to myself: “wonder what Devdas would make of these people — bad successors” .

This is just one incidence I’ve come across, there are many others from my post-grad to post-post-post-grad to substantiate my point that men talk a lot and they have extremely vibrant minds which can catch any signal and reciprocate to it in terms of “men’s talk”. In post-grad times one of the favorite topic of the men’s circuit was “yaar kisko peetna hai?”, else “rum hai toh kya gham hai?”, else “which bike: Hoodibaba or Pulsar?”   else “which song is in vogue?” …. Infact, if I remember correctly two of my close friends had fondly named their bikes as : “Bacchus” (God of wine) and “Vulcan” (God of fire) — and their discussion centered around how to take care of these bikes . Such are then the “ways of the world”.

In literature women have always been imagined by men in certain ways — ranging from coy, cute, beautiful, gorgeous, slanderous, gossiping, angelic … which can be cited innumerable examples from literary texts. Wish someone (it would be interesting to see from females’ point of view) could imagine men in more deeper terms than what they have been thought of — as straightforward, rude, kind, romantic, villainous, treacherous, etc. There are shades in personalities which remain unexplored both by literary and psychological studies and “men talk” and “men’s talk” are some such examples.

But, for the time being all that I can say is men do talk …