Monday Blues: Damn the cheerleaders

What if you are not included in the team of your aspirations?
Why should you bother?

Everyone has a dream team, a team with a lot of idealistic thoughts and perceived additives which you always want o be in. Now that is a whole lot of perception and chance you want to take to mold yourself to suit/fit into that group

Look for what is special in you. What is good for you. What is the one thing you can excel in. What is the one thing  you are good at. Now that is done. Screw the naysayers, screw the world.
where you might not even matter to anyone. Would you change yourself to match/dance to someone else's music and tunes? I don't think that is something you should be doing.

Don't give a damn and start your own training. Train hard. Train well. Train scientifically. Train unapologetic. Your goal is to win and win over yourself.

Ignore the cheerleaders, they never get to play the game. Be the player. Be the game. Form your own team.

See this image I found online.

Add a memory III

Lovely anklets! Silver lined stone-embedded and not so glittery that go with any dress, more of casual, I-don't-give-a-damn anklets. She reaches out and is toying with them while sipping piping hot coffee we bought from the station platform.

'Society is a mean judge. You get ranked based on how you look rather than what you are. Work places are a microcosm of this evil. I usually prefer dressing in casuals and match everything to what I wear and carry but these days no one bothers in my team and being the tough girl I am, no one dares to comment. So I wear whatever I want.'

Shravya seemed to speak to herself more than me.

'The dress should look costly; Branded ones manage to get respect. I don't need to look for anything. Lifestyle does not determine who I am. I am past that stage and more matured now. Life teaches many things you see.'

I nodded in agreement. Agreeing only to the last part of her theory.

'Most men can't face the fact that I earn more than them and look at this as a snob. Even if a girl deserves to be promoted, there are rumor mills working overtime to show that there was some illicit advantage for the girl!'

'This is not just confined to men,' I chip in, 'Mostly the discussion starts from a women and men build on it. There is nothing particular only for men. It is how human psyche is built. Being jealous is the first thing taught at school when you compare grades and performances and limit the child's ability to a mere number.'

'Agreed. The way society teaches you to mould yourself and be nice isn't any good. In fact you end up wanting to step over to the other side. All the capability and talent is ignored just because you are a woman and people murmur behind you. This is bad. Do you even know how much a woman sacrifices when she steps out of her comfort and comes to work? Do you know how many male egos she has to encounter and satisfy to lead a normal life? From her husband to father-in-law, neighbors to relatives, team mates to managers, cab driver to security and it goes on. People all over have mean attitudes and are always ready to scoop something from you as you work. After all this we never complain about work pressure and are expected to stay calm and work at home as if nothing happened.'

My coffee is done and I crush the cup. The train slows down and she looks at me waiting for a comment. I refuse to divulge my feelings in my expression. She remains silent.

'Don't you feel people look up to you? You seem to be pretty successful at work. I guess people should be behind you for advice and stuff?'

'Yes they do. This is even more tiresome as the question is about the amount of work I do. Apart from being dumped on for all the work I am expected to do, people just dump things on me as I am the most efficient in the group! This is the negative side of being professionally sound. I can't say no because I know anyone else in handling that would mess it up.'

'Well! I know how you feel. I have been there and know the feeling. What I do is teach someone else to do the same job, add a professional touch and let it pass on.' She doesn't seem to like my idea.

'You must have a lot of coercing and counseling to do to get the stuff right. I end up spending most of my time on that and hence prefer to do it myself, to retain the quality. That is not the point of discussion. We are talking about the differences in the psyche and how people play it to hit back. Men have egos higher than a mountain and try to shove their ideas and beliefs down our throat. This isn't fair. We have our way of doing things and are good at it. If we managed to do well all these years, we should be able to do that in the time to come. We don't need a daddy at work too. After all why are we being paid if you think we don't have any talent on our own?"

She flicks the tea cup out of the moving train and looks at me as if I need to move my pawn down the chess board. I change my balance and look at her.

'That is a pretty bold statement when you say men handhold you. We just try and make sure you are comfortable in what you are doing. True. You are being paid for your talent, but does it really hurt if we try and help you out? Just to make things simpler.'

She doesn't agree. 'That is not required! If you can make things simpler or help us out, don't dump all your silly things on us! Make sure you do a good job. Let me give you an example. Do you cook?'

I nod in approval.

'Good! Did you ever see the kitchen table, dishes and all the mess you create once you are done? You can be of help but never ever perfect what we are good at. Men are made for a purpose. The point is you take too long to figure it out. Some never do. Some get lost in the way. But one thing is common in all. At every corner or speed breaker in this path, you feel this is it and stick to stay there for ever and expect us to travel all along with you. Women are not like that. We are very practical. We know what we want, when we want and why we want. We go get things done. Period. No nonsense discussions and elaborate plans for life. WE make things simpler. You make all the mess. We don't mind that too. We start minding only when you try and prove that we made the mess and are expected to clear it up!'

I look out nonchalantly out. The train slows down and picks up slowly. The rhythm could easily set to Chaiyya chaiyya! I should have slept and not spoken to her. Here I am defending all the men who are happily sleeping against a woman who wants to rip off all men and justify her statement men are boring. Damn Sharukh and your silly movies. Why don't you play the Don stories or Chak De roles? After all those stories why should you play the all-down-for-you Surinder? And how is it practically possible for a guy working in electricity department to do all that? But how will I convince your female fans? You twist their docile minds and they expect us to be. Damn Sharukh!

We approach a station. I come back from my thoughts and she is still arguing, sincerely.

'You want everything to be as you like it. What about our individuality? We don't want to change, can't. You think it is easy to change but it never is. You should learn to live with that fact. Let me put it better. Even two men cannot be in sync with each other. It reflects in the way you drive too.'

"You want to grab some coffee?" I say as I stand up. We reach a station. The station wakes up for the train and vendors jump down their carts. The number of interested hawkers is low.

I get her some chips and coffee. I stand as the train eases out of the station and settle down. She cups the glass in both hands for warmth and gives that I-know-you glee.

I shrug gesturing what.

'You are like Pradhyumn. You know when to change. I know that you are being chivalorous but you wanted to skip the conversation.'

'No. I just wanted to get some coffee. I don't agree what you said. Let's start about the driving bit. But before that who is Pradhyumn?'

She smiles. For the first time in all the night I see a girl in her.

'Come on! Who is Pradhyumn? You got to tell me more about this.'

She opens the chips packet and settles down.

Who is Pradhyumn? Well, that is another story.

Read Add a memory Part I and Part II.

Add a memory II

"Men are from Mars. Women are from Venus. Did your read this book? It tells all about men and their psyche. You should read it and use it for your Consumer Psyche."

"Yes. On a Sunday some fifteen years back. That is a kid's guide to handle relationships."

"Well?! What do you think?"

The look on her face gleamed as if she had won the argument. Moonlight and her hair played hide and seek as she tried to hold back some lose strands behind her ear. This was a tough task as we were standing in the doorway of a running train.

Men are so boring. Men aren't romantic. Men don't have emotional quotient. Men don't care for the simplicities of life. Men don't appreciate the color of pink, the feel of satin, fresh morning breeze, getting wet in rain, eating ice cream in winter, don't love the neighbor's dog and don't cry! This is just what I remember. Several things she kept muttering in a single breath and I was looking amazed at her ability to speak non stop. Did she breath?

"Can't men be like Sharukh alias Surinder Sahi from 'Rab ne banadi jodi'? she quipped.

"Yes we can and we don't mind illuminating all the city with lights to spell a word if we work in the electricity board!" I quipped. She didn't appreciate my comment and went on.

The problem with men is that you don't have any sense of how we feel. We need space. We need independence. We want our rights. Why don't you understand our need for being an individual? We just live and go on through the motions of life. Superiority, love, hate, dominance, carelessness, callousness, sexist oppression, domesticating, exploiting, abuse and what not. All possible ways of hurting a women are done.

Again she stops for a gasp of breath. A police personal comes and looks at us suspiciously and gives a wicked grin. Shravya gives him a frosty nosed look that send chills down his spine and makes him go back to his den with his tail between his legs. She turns her attention back to me and here she goes.

Did you see the look on his face? All men are like that. So disgusting and cheap! You will never understand what we go through day in and day out. Women have been subjected to bad treatment socially, economically, physically and mentally. Just flip through the pages of history and you will find it all through: the story of suppression!

She paused again. This time to look at a passing house with a kerosene lamp and a dog barking ferociously at the train.

"You are silent. Say something." A smile of satisfaction lights up her face.

"You are right," I tell her, "We might not be as good as you want us to be but trust me we are in this together."

The underlying current is strong in her argument. Some dissatisfaction and lots of anger. I do not pick that with her. At least not yet. The night is young and the journey is long.

The train approached a station and we picked up tea and a biscuit packet.

"All men may not illuminate the city like Surinder but trust me there are men who illuminate lives."

Shravya gave me a wicked smile, adjusted her hair and settled like she is ready for another fight.

What happened next? How did the clash of the psyches end? That is another story.

Pic is from here.

Add a memory

Yatrigan krupaya dhyan de... and the lady went on to announce the arrival of our train in three languages. We were going on a trip to Shimoga for Santu's engagement. After a long tiring day at work, I pulled myself up to the task of hand holding two kids and a big bag to board the train. A few minutes of chit chatting and coffee, chips and good nights, all went to sleep. I sat at the window looking outside. Thinking.

The hands of the watch on my hand seemed to slow down to a rhythmic din moving only to remind themselves that life is going on. The lady in the opposite seat was looking at me with a weird smile on her face. Face dabbed in talcum powder, her oiled hair wound up in a knot with jasmine flowers and a tired look which lit up every tome her iPhone came to life and she typed away a reply. Not less than 35 she looked traditional till I saw her iPhone and with the ease she operated touch screen. We are the only ones alive and busy punching the keys on our mobiles and hence the smile. The train reached some station and I look out of the window again.

The announcement is made and we move. Strange ways life has! Elongated concrete platforms, decked up TV screens, people selling all sorts of things from papers, pins, water, fans to food. People arriving and parting, hugging and seeing off! Tears, frustration, anxiety, fear, urgency and what not. Everything is in motion but the train. Some pick up luggage and run up the stairs to some other platform. Some wait patiently. Some check every train. Some are seriously discussing topics like they would save the world. A group of college something students are in a huddle laughing. A old lady with her husband is in tow with a bag bigger than her slowly walking on the platform. A young couple walk jestfully across with their kid in pram. An old tramp spreads papers on the floor preparing to sleep with a wicked satisfied grin. A kid tries to sell me Femina and brush at the window. A beggar with a baby, about two months old, looks pleading. A couple of people smoking! Wasn't smoking in railway stations banned? Coolies hurrying with huge bags lifted effortlessly snaking through the crowd while the owner in question is a 20 something girl in tight jeans, tee, iPod, sneakers and sipper struggles to stay up. All varieties and brands are here, I mean of people!

Luggage! Have you ever observed the luggage possible? All brands, cost segments, classes! Cloth bags, gunny bags, plastic covers with all sorts of branding, name tags from some decade old flight, hand bags of all shapes and sizes, colors, new ones, old ones, repaired ones, and ones that are bad in shape, costly ones, home made and what not! I try and relate the baggage to the person and see if they match. Most times it does but not always. Strange are the ways of life. As we move out of the station all the sights look awesome. The train picks up speed and life's glimpses make me feel light.

The moon is full bright and shining coolly on the landscape bringing the night to pass. Angel of sleep descends and brings all to rest. A distant flock of birds fly furiously back home to their nests taking food for their babies. Down, on the road, a group of tired looking people wait for the train to pass, engines running, hoping and may be planning for the reaction when they reach home or for tomorrow. A home perched in a field. A long line of trucks parked around a dhaba. Lonely dark river winding like a snake. A watchman fully asleep unperturbed by the train's noise, hustling trees and howling wind.

"Can you pull down the window please?"

I come back from my imagination and look at her.

'Sure.'

I pull down the glass so I can still see.

'I am Shravya,' she said sitting up, gearing up to chat.

I maintain a disinterested face and muttered, 'Good night,' pulled my bed sheet over my face and slept.

No ways :) ! We chatted for four hours till early dawn. Well... that is another story. Life is a journey. You can always make it a memory or simply travel. I add a memory and make it awesome :)