The Choice and The Chosen: A True Story

By Rashmi Rajan 

It was first of a kind experience for her. She wasn’t sure what was happening. He was her best friend who had just come out of a terrible break-up with her help and support. While she was fetching him out of his misery, he was falling in love with her. Or was it really love? Driven by the feeling he had started to develop for her, he proposed her on that New Year’s Eve.

She had been in search of her prince charming, her knight in shining armour, for 23 years and hadn’t found him yet. So when Kritika saw Abhi falling in love with her, she gave her dream man the face of her friend.

They were head over heels in love with each other. Or was it love? Their day began with she calling him up with a love-filled good morning wish and their nights ended with he calling her up after he returned home from his night outs. It was time for weaving romantic dreams  for her but at home it was time to kick start the search engine and find her a suitable guy before she turned a year older. With bio-data of supposedly suitable candidates flowing in, she started fearing the end of her relation with Abhi.

Abhi was in his final year of MBA. Kritika wanted to know what their future was. She wanted to know if their relation was heading somewhere, if his family was going to accept her. She needed just an assurance so that she could confidently disclose her love for Abhi before her family, who could not in their remotest dreams ever think of their daughter treading the forbidden path of love.

Abhi too saw a future with Kritika. He wanted to see her everyday and loved her dearly. Or was it love? One day during one of his late parties with friends he presented before them the idea of talking to his elder brother about his choice for life. They were taken aback.

“Have you gone mad?” They asked. “You want to get married! Girls and love are bearable only till you get married. As soon as girlfriends turn into wives, their love becomes dominating and suffocating. They take away all your freedom and peace.”

Abhi couldn’t picture Kritika in any of the ways his friends described. She had always been very loving and caring towards him. Even when they fought, he knew it was because they cared for each other. They would patch up after each fight and there would be more love between them than ever before. Or was it love? Then why were these guys saying all this?

With constant persuasion and his friends backing their statements with examples from real life, he fell for their words and discarded the faith he had in his love. Or was it love?

That day when he called her up, she could sense some uneasiness in his voice. She couldn’t feel the love she felt everyday when he spoke. She asked him what the matter was. After much denial he said,

“My mother has fixed my marriage with one of my relatives’ daughter. I told her that I wanted to marry you but she said that if I don’t agree to marry this girl then our family relations will get soured. I don’t know what to do.”

Though his last statement expected an answer, it was more like a close-ended statement for Kritika. She couldn’t afford to add a word to it in reply. She knew somewhere that it was an excuse but ‘why’ is something that she couldn’t understand. At least their relation was not so shallow that he couldn’t have been honest to her. She had no choice. She had to play along her parent’s decision—and they had made their choice. The boy was an NRI settled in UK with a very good family background.

“Kritika, look at his photo and bio-data. If you see his photo once, you would not think of saying no,” said her extremely excited mother.

Kritika knew that though she didn’t love this guy, she had to move on.

“I don’t need to know how he looks. I just want to make sure that I can learn to love him. So please hand me over his bio-data and not his photograph,” said Kritika trying to sound as interested as possible.

She read his profile carefully and found nothing that could move her. On the contrary there was something about this guy she didn’t like but she wasn’t sure what it was.

“He seems very mechanical.” That’s all she could say.

Her mother got irritated on hearing this. At once she said, “This is all because of your too well-read mind and your literature books. Every boy cannot be your Shakespeare. Don’t try to read too much between the lines. If there is actually something wrong with this boy, then how come none of us sees it?”

“First of all Maa (mother) what’s wrong with being a little well-read? Secondly Shakespeare is not mine to keep or reject. And most importantly I am not sure why I don’t like this guy but I don’t get good vibes from his profile,” said Kritika trying to sound as casual as she could but feeling helpless inside on not being able to give a good reason.

Her father overheard the conversation and walked into the room.

“Don’t make a hasty decision dear. At least talk to him once. There will be absolutely no pressure on you.”

That night he called. Kritika’s sister, Divya, answered the phone and then called her with a naughty smile, teasing Kritika with her eyes. It was not a very comfortable situation for Kritika to talk to the guy with her parents and sister in the next room. She tried to forget about them and started talking to him. He seemed alright yet she was not comfortable. He seemed to be considerate yet what was it that made her not like him, she didn’t understand.

She shared her uneasiness with her sister who apparently knew about Abhi. She at once responded,

“It’s all because you are still hung up on that silly boy who didn’t even have the guts to stand by you when you needed him.”

“Please didi (elder sister), if he backed out he may have had his own reasons. So do not blame him. Moreover, I have made up my mind about getting married where mom dad say. So I am sure it’s not that. I feel it’s my sixth sense, my gut feeling, my instinct or whatever you may call it. I don’t get good vibes from him.”

“Don’t be silly Kritika. He is perfectly fine, well settled and you are just acting childish. It’s not your sixth sense. It’s what we call nonsense.”

She didn’t have a choice. She had to surrender. That night she soaked her pillow in tears. All through the night she kept asking god why He hated her so much. Why is it that every time she made a choice, He turned the events in a way that she was left with no choice? By the time it was morning her tears had run dry. She got up from the bed, looked out of the window, up at the sky and said,

“God! Will you ever let me make a choice and keep it? What have I done that you keep crashing my dreams?”

She decided to take the option she had been given by her parents. She met Gaurav, her parent’s choice for her life, and after ten days she got engaged to him. The explanation given to her by her parents was that she still had 6 months to know him before marriage as the marriage according to rituals could only happen after 6 months. However, they had to register their marriage on the day of their engagement so that she could apply for a passport.

Gaurav went back to UK and she though lived in India, used to live the life of both countries. She would attend college all day, come back home, help her mom with the household chores, study, then sleep for 2 hours and then snuggle up before the computer to chat with Gaurav, who would according to UK time be back from work. Initially the talks were quite nice. He said he had started falling in love with her. Or was it love? But as familiarity crept into their relationship, she found him becoming more aggressive and violent in his responses. It used to startle her at first. But with each passing day it started freaking her out. She would find him bursting out on every little thing and she would end up in tears. Slowly, her nearing exam dates and her fiancé’s high disregard for her, started taking a toll on her health. The vivacious girl who had a unique glow of happiness on her face and an upbeat tone in her voice started to wither away. Her face now looked tired and her eyes had sunk deep into her face.

Unable to handle the pressure any longer she told her parents that she could not get along with Gaurav’s nature and wanted to end the marriage. Her parents were shocked. She had spoken the undesirable. By now everybody knew about her engagement. How could they break it? It would be such a disgrace to the family! They tried to pacify her by bringing in concepts of ‘long-distance relations and its effect’ and ‘pre-wedding jitters.’

She knew she was never afraid of commitments. In fact, it was her dream to have a family, a husband and a loving marriage. With persuasions pouring in from everywhere, she went along with the plan. The wedding took place. She feared each step she took around the sacred fire. Along with the wedding vows she promised herself to adjust with everything the marriage offered, even her husband’s temper tantrums. Even while smiling for the camera she kept telling herself,

“May be it’s just another test God is taking and I cannot give up that easily.”

After a month of marriage and her life in UK, an ISD call changed the winds in Kritika’s residence. Her father answered the call.

“Dad, can you come online?” came a sound from the other end. It was Kritika, but she sounded different.

He didn’t know what to say or think, so he quickly turned on the computer and anxiously waited as the internet lazily got connected. He found her online. A second later a message popped up. “Webcam request from Kritika—‘Accept’ or ‘Reject’?”

As he clicked “Accept” a blank window appeared on the screen. A moment later a woman’s face appeared in it. They knew her but they couldn’t quite recognize her. After a moment their eyes grew wide. Tears from both eyes started to trickle down their cheeks racing against each other to see who could flow faster.

It was their dear daughter Kritika.... But her face was distorted. It had black and blue patches and was swollen at many places. She looked like a disfigured lump of clay.

Words choked in their throat.

“W-Wh-W-What is this? H-How did this happen?” Kritika’s parents said in overlapping statements. Their heart beat was so loud that they feared that Kritika would hear them.

“Daddy! Maa! Gaurav....He hit me. I am scared Daddy. I am really scared. He slapped me till I could feel his hands on my cheeks. After that I could only see him hit me as my cheeks had become numb with pain. Daddy, please help me. Please ask him not to hit me again. I will do whatever he says. But ask him not to hit me. Tell him I will be an Indian wife.”

“What!!!! Indian wife!” said Kritika’s father in a shocked and angry tone. Her mother immediately put her hand on his shoulder to calm him down. He tried to suppress his anger and said, “Please ask him to speak to us right now.”

Kritika raised her eyes and looked up at the prancing angry man walking up and down the room and said,

“Daddy wants to talk to you.”

He pushed her aside and sat before the computer, with anger still written all over his face.

“What?” he grunted

“What is this son? What Indian wife? Kritika has always been an Indian wife to you and you can’t deny that. She left her job because you didn’t like her going out. She cooks everything for you unlike the wives of your friends who keep ordering from restaurants every other day. She helps you with your MBA studies, never disrespects your parents, and never stops you from doing anything you like. So what did she do today that was so “un-Indian” that you had to hit her?”

Gaurav remained silent, grinding his teeth.

“What is it son? Do you have a reason for being so brutal towards my little child?” asked the concerned mother.

“Yes,” he roared. “I do have a reason. She was asleep when I came back from the market. I had to open the door on my own and yet she didn’t realise that I was home. She disrespected me by doing that. She should have been up on her feet when I came home.”

Kritika’s parents couldn’t believe what they were hearing. Their eyes pained as if some high voltage light had been flashed at their eyes. Unable to believe, her father asked to confirm,

“She disrespected you by falling asleep? Do you understand that she is a human being and your wife and not a superwoman or a guard?”

But Gaurav still didn’t understand their point.

“You people have spoilt her with all your love and care. I know how to make her brains work right. She should receive such a dose to keep her on track.”

“And what do you think I am going to stand here watch my daughter becoming a victim of your madness?” “Send her back right now or else there will be people at your door in half an hour to take her away and I will also make sure that you are behind the bars,” said Kritika’s father with anger burning like a forest fire in his eyes.

That did the trick. He was scared. Apparently his braveness was only limited to hitting his wife. Unwillingly he agreed and left the room. Kritika sat in front of the computer again. She was trembling with fear.

“Sweetheart, don’t worry. He won’t hurt you again. Just come back. I am booking your tickets for the earliest flight.”

“No Daddy! Book the tickets for a week from now. And just keep checking in on me till then,” said Kritika wiping her tears off.

Her father was surprised at his daughter’s request. “What!!! Why?” he asked.

“Because there are bruises on my face and his hand impression is clearly visible on my cheeks. If I go out of this house people will come to know that somebody has hit me. I don’t want him to end up in some major trouble.”

“Have you gone crazy? You are still thinking about his wellness!”

“Daddy, it’s my choice not to live with him anymore. I have no right to punish him for that. If he deserves a punishment, he will get it.”

“My girl! He has to be taught a lesson.”

“What is more important Dad? Getting back your daughter or taking revenge?”

“Getting you back, of course.”

“Then you are getting what you want. Please don’t ask for more.”

Kritika’s parents tried to talk to Gaurav’s parents, but they saw nothing wrong in their son’s actions.

A week later, hiding her fading scars under layers of makeup, Kritika landed in India. Her parents were happy to get their daughter back alive but couldn’t say a word out of the guilt of having ended their daughter up in such a terrible situation.

It was a difficult time for Kritika and her parents as more and more people came to know about her unfortunate marriage. A couple of days later Gaurav’s mother called Kritika up and said,

“Kritika, though none of us was there when u needed us, still you did no harm to us. I just wanted to thank you for not filing a case against my son. He could have lost his job. I am so thankful to you and I really respect you for this kind gesture. I wish my son had more sense.”

After that day Kritika started spending all her time smiling and trying to make her family smile. Her mother kept wondering why she seemed so upbeat. She went to Kritika and asked,

“You don’t have to hide your tears from us. You can cry if you want.”

“No Maa! I don’t want to cry. I have cried for the past month thinking why God hated me so much that he won’t ever let me have what I choose. The more I thought about it the more it made me miserable. I may not have actually known till now what ‘being loved forever’ means but I know for sure that there’s one guy up there who loves me so much that he wants me to earn my choice just like I earned the respect of Gaurav’s mother. May be I am his chosen one. And the day I earn it, he will not take it away.”

Saying this much, Kritika looked out of the window, up at the sky and said,

"Bring it on big guy! I am ready for the next challenge. ”

My Reason to Love
By Rashmi Rajan

Amidst the rundown Victorian houses and closed down stores in Plymouth, California, was a small but lively coffee shop called ‘Coffee Beans,’ owned by a rather simple yet beautiful looking girl named Faye Palmer. Unable to afford assistance she herself catered to all the orders in her busy little coffee shop.

Every morning as the clock struck nine, Faye’s heart would skip a beat as the doors of the coffee house would open and a curiously handsome looking young man would come to her counter and order an extra complicated coffee—half caf, double tall, non-fat, no foam extra hot Latte with whipped cream and cinnamon dusting on top—in a deep husky voice and a breath-taking smile to accompany it.

By now she had memorized his movements. She knew how many steps he would take to reach her counter. She knew that he would first flip through the menu and then unable to decide would go for his regular order. His complicated order of coffee took time to be made but Faye didn’t mind it as it gave her more time to look at him. Her heart would compel her to drown in his eyes as he waited for his coffee but she resisted it fearing that such an uncontrolled behaviour on her part may stop him from coming there. 

She found him to be very forgetful though, as he would order the same coffee every day and yet would never be able to remember the cost. “3 dollars 50 cents—How hard is it to remember?” she would think. But it suited her well as that gave her the chance to listen to his voice one more time. She would fight a battle against her desire to look at him and would ultimately give in when he would ask “How much for the coffee?”

As he left the coffee shop he would stop to greet the florist sitting right outside the main door. Faye would grasp all her chances to see him for the last time and then delve into gloom as he waved goodbye to the old flower lady. Days passed by and Faye’s life started revolving around those ten minutes between the doors being flung open and shut every morning. There were moments when she would want to say to him, “Nice shirt! Blue suits you well.” And even more did she want to say “I live to see you walk into that door and my heart breaks every time you walk out.” But never did she gather the courage to confess her ever-increasing love for him.

It was one such Thursday morning. Faye, as usual, waited for the doors to open. But it was already nine and he wasn’t there yet. She spent that entire day gazing outside the door and on account of her inattentiveness she had to bear some loss as she dropped a tray full of cups on the floor. For the next three days the clock ticked nine every morning yet there was no sign of him. “It was over,” she said to herself. She gave up all her hopes as she knew no way in which she could find him. She didn’t even know his name. Her swollen eyes told the tale of her teary nights. Dejected in love she was trying to concentrate on her work when she heard a familiar voice say, “Can I have the menu please?”

Her heart pranced with joy and she turned to see the much awaited face. He was there, right in front of her eyes. Unable to believe she stood there as if frozen in time. She made his coffee and handed it to him like a lifeless puppet drawn by strings. And then she saw him leave. That’s when the thought occurred to her mind, “What if he never comes back?” The very thought sent a chill down her spine. She threw her apron aside and rushed out of the door after him.

“Stop!” she shouted.

He turned back. They both stood silently face to face. Faye’s silence was accompanied by a volley of unspoken statements creating a turmoil inside her. Finally she blurted out, “I love you.”
“When I didn’t see you for three days I thought I would never see you again and that thought scares me. I know all this sounds crazy as I don’t even know your name.” As she spoke, tears welled up in her eyes.

“William. William Gray,” said he with a genuine concern in his eyes.

She didn’t know what to say or do. She wanted him to say something more. But he just kept staring at her. When he didn’t say anything she said, “William! Can we talk this over coffee tomorrow morning at nine? At Paradise Cafe?”

“That would be great,” he said, still smiling.

After he was gone she realized that she didn’t even tell him her name and he didn’t care to ask either. Faye was confused. “That would be great—not the four words I had expected,” she thought on her way back to the coffee shop. “But how can I expect him to say ‘I love you too’ when I know that he probably hadn’t even noticed me till I walked up to him today?” In many such ways did she try to pacify herself but she couldn’t stop feeling embarrassed about having expressed her one-sided feelings for him and for putting him in such an awkward position.

She kept tossing and turning all night wondering what end would seal her act of embarrassment. She woke up in the morning, and got dressed. It had been the day she had always dreamt about since she had fallen for her coffee shop customer but it felt nothing like the dream. All her happiness of finally sipping coffee with her dream man instead of serving him one, seemed shrouded with confusion. She then unwillingly pushed herself out of her house and prodded along the way to Paradise Cafe thinking of some way to avoid meeting him.

When Faye reached the venue she saw William waiting there with a bunch of Lilies. “Are they for me?” “Lillies are my favourite...How did he know?” she wondered as she walked towards him. “H-H-Hello!” she said, her voice breaking with nervousness.

William extended the flowers to her in reply to her greetings. He pulled out a chair for her and gently made her sit. He sat in front of her looking at her in a way that made her feel like the most beautiful woman present there. Faye tried not to get her hopes too high. But there was too much silence and she didn’t know what else to do except think. So she said, “You know Lilies are my favourite flowers.”
“I know,” he said.

She was taken aback. “He knew? How? He must have guessed it. Or did he actually know?” several questions started to muddle her already confused mind. While she was questioning the possibilities, he spoke, breathing space into her confusions. “I see you buy lilies from the old flower lady outside your cafe every evening.”

She stared at him in amazement. All this while she thought that she was the only one to notice him, but the fact that he noticed her too was something that she couldn’t even imagine. While she was at putting two and two together, he slid a small packet tied up with a ribbon to her.

“It’s for you,” he said. “Go ahead. Open it.”

She untied the ribbon with trembling fingers. There was a statuette of a fairy inside it. It was very pretty. Along with it was a card which read, “You justify your name—Faye, the fairy.”

“You know my name? And I always thought...”

“I heard your colleague call you by your name once in the coffee shop,” he interrupted her.
She was so happy that tears started falling from her eyes. She didn’t want him to think she was an emotional wreck so she quickly wiped her tears and tried to hide them with her attempt to be funny.

“You heard my name once and remembered it? It’s funny that you can’t remember how much your regular cup of coffee costs.”
She laughed till he spoke, “3 dollars 50 cents.”
“You remembered? All this while?”
“Yes, but you see that was my only chance to hear you speak. How could I miss that lovely voice of yours?”

She blushed at these surprising turn of events. He kept looking at her. She felt love, concern and warmth in his eyes. But yet something scared her to let herself drown in those loving eyes. She smiled and kept wiping her tears pretending to be strong enough to handle any amount of emotional outbursts. To break the silence she said, “Alright let’s order your favourite coffee.”
She was about to signal to the waiter when he said, “I don’t drink coffee.”

Amused at this she spoke as she turned her face towards him, “Of course you do. You know how much time it takes me every day to make your special Latte?—half caf, double tall, non-fat, no...” words started fading out as she looked into his eyes and realized that he was not joking.
“I don’t drink coffee. I don’t like coffee. In fact I never have. I simply memorized a combination that would take a little more time to be prepared,” he said with a smile—bashful at the same time naughty—that confused Faye even more.

She couldn’t understand what he was trying to say. Then something struck her like a flash of lightning. Her eyes had tears but her face had a grave shadow. “So you don’t like coffee? Then why did you come to the coffee shop every day? Was it a prank, a bet, a joke? Why ...” Words refused to be spoken and mellowness dawned upon her as he gently took her hand into his and firmly pulling her towards him said, “Why? Because when I saw you for the first time outside that coffee shop I decided to make that complicated cup of coffee my reason to meet you. But the day you handed me my first cup of Latte I fell in love with you and since then I have never been able to fall out of it.”

Emotions were getting stronger inside Faye. It was becoming difficult for her to control them. His grip on her hands became tighter and his voice became more intense as he finally said. “Faye, I love you. And from now on I want this to be my only reason to meet you.”

A stream of tears rolled down Faye’s cheeks, but this time she didn’t stop them. She simply let them flow.

Dil Ki Zubaani...

Hamesha chahte the rehna tanha
Phir aaj tanhaai kyun itni khal rahi hai?
Is dil ne to dhadakna chod hi diya
Par kambakhat saansein ab tak chal rahi hai...

Gamke gherone zindagi ka gala ghont diya
Socha ab jeeke kya karenge jab khushi ne hi humse muh mod liya.
Phir ek din kisi ke kadmo ki aahat ne humein phir jeene ka maksad diya
Par jab jaana ki kiya tha anjane mein rukh humari aur un kadmon ne,
To humne saans lena hi chod diya

Saath chalne ka vaada kar ke
Jaane kyun chale gaye saath chod ke
Woh to badh chale apni manzil ki aur
Humein raah mein khada chod ke

Har pal jo bitaya unke pyar mein woh yaad karke
Jee lenge hum zindagi bhar unka intezaar karke
Kyunki jab dil lagaaya tab maalum na tha
Kabhi pachtava bhi hoga unhe humse pyar karke

Jab saamne the woh, hum doob jaate the unki aankhon mein
Honth sil jaate the, jab bhar lete the woh apni baahon mein
Aaj na woh aankhein hain, na woh baahein,
Phir bhi haal wohi hai humara, khokar unki yaadon mein

The Darkness around a Lighthouse

I stand still watching waves come and go,
Gathering all their courage – rising high, sinking low.
I watch them rise with all their might,
Then crashing against the rocks; O what a pitiable sight!

When courage meets such fate
My heart rushes to its rescue but by then all efforts seem to be late.
Every night brings along a new hope
To rise again but shatters them the next moment, making it hard to cope.

When ships set sail, I guide them, show them the way,
But alas! I fail to guide these silly waves from crashing at the bay.
I wish I could hold them when they struggle to rise high,
Or console them when they break and give out a sigh.

But yet I stand still watching waves come and go,
Gathering all their courage – rising high, sinking low.

The Red Light

I stand at the traffic lights -
Red, yellow, green
Waiting from day to night
Seldom seen, generally unseen.

In the scorching heat, my burning feet,
Pray for the lights to turn red
For that’s the time when I find
A chance to earn my bread.

Some make me plead, some make me beg
Some buy with a smile what I’ve got to sell.
But why make me run and fetch the money?
Is it a game? I really can’t tell.

All day long I watch the traffic lights –
Red, yellow, green
But ‘red’ is my colour I’m sure
For I know not what the other two mean.

There is a MAN in every WoMAN: I Wonder Why Men Can’t Stand it!!!

Since Frued left the question ‘What women Want?’ unanswered, women have been perched upon the pedestal as an exhibit of unending mystery. I say if you really want to know what a woman wants, then go ask a woman. But the problem I guess is that men find it much easier to say that it is impossible to know what women want as then they don’t have to fulfil those wants or give the woman enough freedom to satisfy those wants on their own. With Freud’s question still posed year after year as a conundrum with no answer, even women have now started internalizing the thought and have started believing that may be there is no answer to this much discussed question. A question is said to have an answer only when the answer is accepted by all and understood by all. So the understanding level of men seems to have gone down with Freud and so the question remains unanswered till now. To know what a woman wants, one needs to accept that women too have the right to ‘want.’ They may express it differently owing to the difference in their nature, but the answer is always the same. You just need to interpret it correctly.

The 21st century may boast of having reached vibrant heights and may have achieved insuperable victories on all fronts, but there still remains an abyss of gloom that has not yet been filled. Even though we may have a tapestry of events that have marched us to the abode of prosperity, what continues to have survived is the hierarchal relation between men and women. The situation is similar to that in any organization. The fulfilment of an employee’s wish depends on whether those wishes are of any benefit to the employer. If yes, then they do meet their desired ends, but if no, then they are discarded as if they hold no rational explanations. Also if the employer finds his employee’s potentials to be challenging his own, he would do away with the employee posing any kind of threat to or questioning his position. The same situation echoes in the man-woman relationship. If meeting the woman’s wants requires the man to step out of his comfort zone, then he would rather project those wants as confusing and beyond rational parlance, than putting that extra tablespoon of effort to fulfil it. Similarly if a woman sores the heights of achievements, the man may question her means and ways of having reached those heights rather than appreciating her worth and feel proud of it.

This interminable saga of dominance and coercion reminds me of the story ‘Fox and the Grapes,’ and how the grapes (women) seem sour to the fox (man) because he cannot reach them. Today the word ‘woman’ has become a part of a Humpty Dumpty language – an eccentric use of language where the meaning of the word is determined by the speaker, and hence is described the way man sees her. He determines women to be confusing, because he cannot try and understand them. If she is so confusing why does she understand how much he needs her and still makes him believe that she is the one who needs him? He calls a woman difficult, because he cannot make life any easier for her. If she is so difficult why does she make his life easy by handling him and his relations at the same time? He states that women are dominating, because he cannot tell the world how much he dominates her. If she is so dominating why does a wife give up all her relations to make your relations her own? He says women are possessive, because he cannot give up what he wants her to give up. If she is so possessive, why does she stop talking or meeting her male friends after marriage and he still gets to enjoy the close company of his female friends?

I am sure men can cook up answers for all these whys and wherefores. But the real honest answer to these questions lies in the very existence of men, in the fact that a woman chose pain and hardship to bring them into this world. Whatever they do for her cannot equal that choice she once made. The only way they can try to repay her is by treating her clan with some respect and gratitude.

However, I often wonder if deep down inside every man lurks the desire to be a woman! I wonder, if women can feel happy about the achievements of their man, then are men incapable of such selflessness? I wonder if a woman understands every want of a man and completes his life with things he cannot achieve or do on his own (i.e. continue their lineage, slave over the hot stove, take care of his family like her own, support him during his falls...the list is endless) then can’t men afford to repay them by sharing some responsibilities? 
I wonder, I wonder, ‘What do men want women to want?’....

It’s Time for a ‘Break’

Bedtime stories and the pink world of Barbie dolls that adorn our childhood days instil a desire in our grown-up minds – a desire to live in an enchanted world of fairy tales where we could all be princes and princesses, a world where the life of every ugly duckling meets a happy ending, where the miserable life of Cinderella gets transformed with a flick of fairy godmother’s wand, where pumpkins turn into ornate carriages, and where mermaids fall in love with princes of the land. This desire lurks somewhere in all of us and minting money by nurturing this desire to the extreme end is the ‘advertising world.’ Advertisements today are made to play upon our deepest unknown desires, luring us into buying products which we otherwise wouldn’t wish to buy.

The Indian advertising industry seems to uphold the western beauty myth of thin, young, able-bodied, heterosexual, and light-skinned women. In an attempt to display such epitomes of perfection, they send out the message that those who do not fall into this bracket are imperfect. To overcome such inadequacies many starve themselves, develop eating disorders, take up harmful measures and believe everything that rationality dictates not to believe. For instance, fair skin is the dream of many in India. It is a dream that voices itself in the various matrimonial ads demanding a ‘fair-skinned bride.’ This desire to possess fair skin has been exploited much in the various commercial spots on television. They show how darkness of the skin casts clouds of gloom over the life of a girl and how a wonder cream that transforms dark skin into magically fair skin comes to rescue and wins her the love of her life. Though the rational side of the consumers tells them the impossibility of turning fair in a few days, their hope built up by the fantasising ads make them discard their senses. Even men are being ensnared into the idealised lean, muscular and fair-skinned image that seems to be shrouding the concept of ‘tall, dark, and handsome men,’ increasing the business of fitness centres and fairness creams for men.

Children form another area upon which advertisements focus. It has been proven that children wield an immense power of purchasing. This is the reason why products related to children find place in the lower shelves of the supermarket. They are tactfully placed there for children to see and whine a little to include them in their shopping cart. What’s worse is that with children starring in the various advertisements of soft drinks and junk food, a healthy meal gets replaced with pizzas, burgers and aerated drinks leading children to an unhealthy tomorrow.

Another misuse of this powerful means of persuasion is seen in recent mobile phone ad in which, a female employee, when refused a promotion, uses a secretly captured video clip of her boss against him. Such ads not only put the potential of working women in question but also encourage the wrong use of technology to suit ones purpose.

Advertisement is indeed a useful and influential marketing strategy but in the struggle to overcome competition from other brands, every company tries to pose as the best, creating utter confusion and chaos in the minds of the consumer who, being unable to decide, ends up buying the product making the maximum pompous display. With superstars from the film industry and the field of sports, who are idolised by people across the country, becoming mediums of such harmful propagation, the low budget government ads like ‘jaago grahak jaago’ produced to make the consumers aware, become the much awaited moment to flip channels or to attend to the nature’s call. Advertisements are a powerful source of reform. They, if channelized in the interest of the consumer, can encourage quality buying and can provide the country with a healthy today and tomorrow.