Loving a Strange Stranger: My entry for the Get Published contest

Please vote for my idea and help me get published, at: Indiblogger's Get Published Forum!

This idea is about the forming of a relationship between two recluses. The people in question are myself and a man who was a complete stranger when I first saw him. We soon figured out we were in the same college but had never seen each other before our final years as we’d both been in different classes and had kept ourselves to our small social circles. It was intriguing for me to gradually discover his personality through my exhaustive research, peeling away layer by layer. Though friends around me were dating and chasing bold, successful alpha males, I was fascinated by the archetype of the opposite. This is a story of how this ‘quiet’ kind of love began, and what happened next.

What Makes This Story ‘Real’:

In the vast majority of romantic movies and novels, guys do all the chasing and wooing and girls are just lucky if they have a choice in who to say yes to. But that doesn’t work in real life, and it is impractical for women to give up on a guy just because he lacks the courage to ask them out (yes, forget The Rules!). This story shows how a shy but determined girl took matters into her own hand.

Source: 4.bp

Extract:

Our love began innocuously, on a day I least expected. I was in my final year of undergrad, it was a Monday, and I went to give the CAT exam (the first computer-based CAT) at my centre. Since this was Delhi’s December, a sweater was required. A day earlier, I had researched in the Sunday paper that my lucky color was red and I was duly unpreparedly wearing the only red sweater I had – an old rag my grandma had once knitted with great passion, and which was still the brightest, most eye-numbing shade of red. I would never have dreamt of wearing this in public had it not been for its lucky properties on the day of my exam. I was certain that I would not meet anyone of consequence since all my friends had given the exam over the weekend.

As I stood outside the exam centre, looking awfully tired and poorly dressed (and confidently not giving a damn too), along came a long-nosed, popular guy from my college wearing what resembled a traffic policeman’s fluorescent orange jacket. With him was an incredibly handsome stranger. The minute I saw Mr. Longnose, I shrank in fear and realised the grave sin I had committed by coming in my ragged state. It was to no avail – he saw me and whispered something to his handsome friend. The handsome guy didn’t move much, just stood straight and kept staring at me. Longnose kept darting his face between me and Handsome, quite clearly gossiping about me, my outfit, and perhaps everything nasty he knew about me.

This is my entry for the HarperCollins–IndiBlogger Get Published contest, which is run with inputs from Yashodhara Lal and HarperCollins India.

Shedding My "Blogging Self-Respect"

I began blogging in order to express myself freely, hoping for feedback and comments on whatever (and I seriously mean anything) I post. I never thought what I posted in my blog could be subject to self-censorship as it is in real life. (Unfortunately, I can't be freely expressive in my everyday life, as reputations last a lifetime and I don't want a random comment to be misinterpreted by an acquaintance as being "batty" or "weird"...) I hate restrictions and I hate having to be politically correct in real life, hence this blog began. Yet I've realised that within a few months of having started this blog, I've made a few followers (thank you if you're reading this!) and now I don't want to lose them by talking too radically... I've formed and changed my opinion on many things since I first started blogging, yet I don't want to let down those that might have expected a 'certain kind' of writing from me.
Strange dichotomous position I find myself in... kinda like an indie musician who's faced with the choice of remaining authentic or selling out i.e. making mainstream music for money and profits... ;)

Image credit

<Looooonnng, pensive think.>


I can't do this. I've decided I can't be unfaithful with the express purpose of setting up this blog. If you dislike what I blog about, you are free to unfollow me and stop reading further. (I'm tempted to write: "The followers be damned!" in the spirit of "The money be damned!", but don't want this to be misunderstood as arrogance. It's not. It means I don't want to live up to anyone's expectations, and that includes followers/readers.)

<Finally feel freeeeeee!>

So here goes, some not-so-interesting-to-anyone-other-than-myself issues I really feel like writing about (longer posts will follow later, when I'm free!):

1) Being a nerd in high school and how I think it was a difficult time, in many ways. Love this essay by Paul Graham, here. There's a good debate (and critique) of the same essay in the comments of this blog post here.
2) Discovering that the guy I had a crush on is a 90%-confirmed a**hole and the only thing he suffers from is a superiority complex and a bloated ego (despite looking like he was a misunderstood loner). Instead of my sympathy, he is far more well-deserving of my cold shoulder, if not outright contempt. Simultaneous heartbreak and heartburn (and anger and fury and wrath and...)...!!! (Better let my temper cool before I write about this one!)
3) I support LGBT rights (and I'm neither lesbian nor bisexual myself so please don't assume that's why). I've been dying to blog about the rights of LGBT people but couldn't come around to writing a post...And why I support them is simply because I've read enough and watched enough movies to realize that love and meaningful relationships are scarce and if people find what they're looking for with someone from the same sex (like they did in Brokeback Mountain, or The Kids Are All Right or Beginners) then it's unfair to keep them apart to conform to 'social expectations' (that really are a set of stupid rules that don't amount to anything in the long run in anyone's life). I know many people in India disagree, and the social stigma remains, but I've decided I'm on the side of the LGBT rights activists.
4) I hate the current crop of politicians in India. I think this country suffers from terrible leadership. Mamta Banerjee is clearly the biggest bane at the moment. Why Time gives prestigious coverage to belligerent ministers like Mamta and Narendra Modi instead of Nitish Kumar baffles me! I don't know what will save us. Looking forward to fleshing out my case on this point SOON!
5) I hate marriage. If I ever get married, it will be for money/security alone. It will be an auction where the highest bidder wins. It can't be for love. Only kids and rich people should believe in love. For me at least, it can't sustain a relationship. Case to be explained soon.
6) I want to write something on the strangeness of my life and the broadness of human experiences. Will care to explain later.
7) Something on my grandparents. Before you go running for the box of tissues...let me clarify that they're about as loving as Sleeping Beauty's Stepmom or the what Evil Queen was to Snow White. So no sympathies. This is going to be one complicated real-life story on family politics and how Old is NOT Gold. Sometimes old people are just cruel, as my grandparents have demonstrated.

The Poor Man And His Sick Son [Time To Change!]

This incident happened a few days ago and the guilt is still fresh in my mind, hence I'm writing this post. Though I question what my blogging about this man will do to help him, I also believe that my staying mum will certainly not help him either. Hence, perhaps my act of writing about this, and someone's act of reading about this may just help, in some small way. Let's see...


 


A few days ago I went to college and attended two dull lectures as usual. Our Professor, who is also the Director of the institute, took a few extra minutes of our lunch break, as a result of which the class became restless. As soon as he was done and walked out the door, everyone jumped to their feet and stashed registers and pens in their bags to leave.

"Ek minute, rukooo!" (One minute, stop!) a hoarse voice lamentably implored from where our Director had been standing only minutes before. As we turned around to look at the blackboard, we saw a short, stout and dark middle-aged man in ragged clothes standing with his arms flailing, looking nervous. "Please, ek minute, please rukoo! Bahut zaroori baat karni hai!" (Please, one minute, please stop! Have something very important to say!) he continued, his voice trembling.

Now, we're a class of over 40 students. Some of us hesitantly went back to our seats to hear what this man had to say. However, some of my classmates took one look at the man and judged that what he was saying wasn't important enough to be considered (being in the same institute for 2 years, they could easily recognize who the powerful in our department were and hence deserved the respect of being heard.) Since this man was clearly not from our academic department and his clothes and manner of speaking suggested he wasn't important, they walked out the door as if he hadn't existed. The man watched their cold backs walking out the door and beseeched, "Please! Ek minute! Please!" but to no avail.

Once the footsteps of those that had walked out had faded, the man turned his eyes to those that were still seated. About twenty students remained. His eyes were red and damp. Not just damp, but watery and swollen, as if he'd been crying for many days. He looked at us, teary-eyed, folded his hands in supplication, and earnestly entreated,

"Please bachchon, meri madad karo...Mera beta bahut beemaar hai...Usko hamne hospital mein operation karaya 50,000 rupaiye ka par unhone galat ilaaj kiya, uska galat kaan ka ilaaj hua aur woh paralysed ho gaya. Uske kaan mein dalne ki cheez bhi kharaab ho gayi. Phir humne use doosre hospital mein operation karaya par wahaan uski ilaaj mein 1,50,000 ka kharcha hai. Par hum is operation ke liye paise nahin jod sakte. Humne Rotary Club se baat ki hai, unhone 1,00,000 diye hain, Humne aur colleges se bhi 25,000 rupaiye ki maang ki hai. Ab sirf aapka college rahta hai. Humne aapke Director se permission li hai, unhone kaha hai ki hum aaj ki class ke baad aap logon se maangne aa sakte hain. Please meri help kijiye. Mere bete ki jaan ka sawaal hai... Please aap jitna bhi de sakte hain, please!"

(Please, children, help me...My son is very sick...We paid 50,000 rupees for his operation in a hospital but they did it wrong, they did the wrong treatment of the wrong ear and he became paralysed. Even the device they gave to keep in his ear is not working. Then we went to get his operation done in another hospital but there the expense is 1,50,000 rupees. We cannot arrange for so much money for this operation. We have spoken to the Rotary Club, they have agreed to give 1,00,000 for this operation and students from other neighbouring colleges have agreed to give 25,000. Only your college is left. I have taken permission from your Director and he said that I could come speak to you after your class and ask you. Please help me. This is for my son's life, please donate anything you can, please!")

Something about the way he spoke made me realise that this was no fraud. He was genuinely distressed, extremely poor and clearly a very responsible father. I could only imagine how difficult it would be to be in his position; to not be able to afford your child's medical bills and to be faced with the prospect of your child going untreated as a result of your poverty. He deserved our sympathy and support.
Here comes the shocker in the story: The class's highest-scoring, frontbencher student asked to see any "documents" and the man showed him 2 laminated copies of letters from the Rotary Club saying that they were partially contributing to his son's operation bills. After reading these, Mr. Frontbencher decided not to contribute. As the poor man made his way around to collect money, one student contributed 500 rupees, another contributed 200 rupees, and 3 others (including myself) contributed 100 rupees each. That makes a total of 1000 rupees. The rest either politely declined as he approached them or ran out the door before he could approach him, thus showing him more cruel, cold backs.

He profusely thanked those of us that had contributed and walked out, head lowered and shoulders drooping into the empty hallway. It is difficult for a person who is not used to begging to have to beg. What I fail to understand is why didn't I contribute 500 rupees? And why didn't all 40 of us contribute at least 50 rupees each? Alas, us middle-class human beings, ensconced by all kinds of insurance schemes, don't understand how difficult unexpected medical bills can be when you're poor.
In fact, I too only understood the man's situation when the unnamed guilt that seeped into my heart refused to go away. Upon being forced into reflection, I accepted this guilty feeling stemmed from realizing how selfish and stupid I'd been and how vacuous we as postgraduate students were to refuse to help. Shame on our education, shame on our adulthood and shame on everything dynamic we 'youth' are supposed to stand for...

**
From the above incident, I hope I have drawn attention to the fact that sudden healthcare costs (e.g. major operations) are prohibitively expensive for the poorer sections of society.

It is Time to Change this situation and I wish to provide a helping hand to this cause (and to people like the poor man in the above incident) by constructing the following:



- A non-profit website should be set up where poor people ("Requesters") can explain their medical issues -with descriptions, pictures, etc - that require urgent funding. Visitors to the website who wish to donate ("Donors") can then make direct donations to foot their medical bills. (Hopefully even sponsors can make donations.)
- Any person who has a genuine medical problem (and his/her relatives who are making the request) should first be verified before their request is uploaded onto the website - and the contact details of the doctors and hospitals in question should also be disclosed so that frauds and scams are avoided.
- Donations can be of any value i.e. even rupees 50... and should be available to be made in all forms - i.e. Cash (the person's relatives could come collect it), Credit/Debit card, Cheque, etc.
- There should also be an option of lending money to the poor person (under condition that he pays it back within, say 1-3 years), without interest or with a very low rate of interest. This option should only be made available if the Requester is comfortable with paying back that amount. This option should also only be introduced if the money cannot be raised by donation means. This option is to encourage people who normally wouldn't donate more than 100 or 500 to consider loaning 5000 (with the surety that they'll be returned 5000 within a year, and will hence only make a loss of 500 on it in terms of foregone interest).
- Post-treatment details should also be uploaded onto the site, so that the donors have an incentive to take interest in a stranger's medical case (as they can understand what they're helping to pay for).

 

I don't know if any NGOs are already working like this. If there are... I hope that they are successful and would raise awareness so they can also reach out to poor fathers like the man who had to come begging to my college on Monday.

This post is an entry in a contest, Time to Change! ("If you could change something around you, what would it be?"), organized by Stayfree.  For further details check out: www.facebook.com/sftimetochange

Obituary to a Dear Stranger

An old classmate and the friend of a friend passed away yesterday. He died of natural causes (although the exact reason has not been ascertained). He was all of 22 years old.
When I heard the terrible news I instinctively felt sorrow and pain at the news of his death. He'd been a brilliant student, extremely quiet but friendly if you tried to talk to him. Unfortunately, being a shy one myself, I never got to talk to him more than once.
After feeling the grief and pain for more than two hours, in an effort to shake off the sadness, I asked myself why I felt so sad for the passing away of a boy who was no more than a complete stranger. Just because I was witness to his intelligence or presence in the classroom does not mean I knew him any more than the crowd of faces I see every day when I walk along the road. Then why did I get affected so deeply and personally?
It was then that a realization dawned upon me. I had been saddened because, though I didn't know him personally, I had never seen anything wrong or bad about him. I'd seen a "good" human being in him. Someone who was a genius in his subject, yet modest and shy. I hadn't seen him as greedy or jealous or conniving or competitive - and I can't say the same for many of my other classmates. Unlike them, he'd seemed like one of those genuinely nice guys who live in their own abstract worlds, along with a few of their close friends. He was an aspiring professor. A brilliant and true student. A genuine person.
Thus, something about his appearance, his attitude and ambitions, to me, suggested that he was very good. I frankly don't believe there are any good people in this world these days - everyone is ever-darker shades of grey. But he seemed more innocent than the others, one of the lightest shades if I may so say.
God bless his soul.
May he rest in peace. I know I will always remember him.

PS: Another insight I gained from brooding over his death was:
1) I should make the most of my short life on this planet. Not waste time, not a single minute! Every minute should go towards happiness - be it my future career and hobbies, my family, my friendships and relationships, or sharing gyaan (Hindi: wisdom) on my blog. But NOT on crying over spilt milk or worrying about silly things that are out of my control (e.g. true love).
2) I should smile at more people and befriend more people... else I guess the only friends I have will be the extroverts who want to talk to me (who are great people and I love their company, but I should I also be talking to the ones who are too shy to come talk to me!)

PPS: I'm going to go off on a slightly absurd philosophical tangent here so please discontinue reading if you don't want to hear me rambling:
I also realised that there are are hundreds of faces I see every day, be it on the streets, in restaurants and cafes or in marketplaces and metros and buses. A series of blurs. Some strike you for a few minutes, some stand out (for looking very different) but over a few hours are eventually forgotten. Out of these - a very few people, due to repeated contact such as being your classmates or office colleagues or neighbours or regular traveling partners or friends of friends earn your trust, friendship and loyalty over time. But how you meet them is almost random. I think luck and destiny plays a huge role in selecting the people you get to know and who you don't. So all that talk of 6 billion people out there for you isn't really true. In a single lifetime, you may not encounter more than a hundred thousand - many of them randomly chosen for you by some wheel of fortune.

Quotes That Inspire Me - 1

Inspiration can come from any and many. Anyone can write a short sentence or paragraph or story that can affect you profoundly and teach you something. However, though many things can be inspiring, it is those that affect what is weakest in us that we'd like to be able to refer to when we're feeling bad.
For example, if low self-confidence is your problem then quotes on procrastination wouldn't help at that particular point in time.
The following is a quote that I'd like to remember when I'm feeling nervous or unconfident:

Our doubts are traitors and make us lose the good we oft might win by fearing to attempt.
-William Shakespeare

I hope I never forget this. I have a tendency to be worried and nervous and self-sabotaging. I hope remembering this helps me to trust in myself. :)