Do you agree that using improper grammar can make you look like a dud? Or, do you feel that laying too much emphasis on grammar is an elitist thing? Despite all the fuss, the fact is that we all make grammatical errors. And, if that makes you feel any better, read on…

Grammar Matters

Ruby Sahay, Yahoo Contributor Network
Jun 29, 2014

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We have been providing quality service to our customers since last five years.

We'd like to brief you about our product and some of it's features.

We are closed on Saturday's and Sunday's.

Its my turn to drive the children to school.

The table is our's but the chairs are their's.

Have you stumbled upon sentences like these in emails, on websites or other forms of written expression?

Perhaps, you are familiar with the most common blooper seen in letters- your's sincerely.

How often do you encounter the classic case of Let's eat Grandma, where the missing comma has the power to turn the most gracious speaker into a beast? Notice how punctuation makes a difference when the sentence reads Let's eat, Grandma. In the former, the nonexistent comma not only engenders a grave miscommunication, but alters the tone of the sentence while endorsing the writer's inadequacy, given the fact that he/she has no intention of turning into a bloodthirsty hound!

Do you cringe each time you hear someone say I wish I was instead of I wish I were or If I were?

It may be hard to swallow, but a condolence message that I received from a well- meaning friend read, "It's heartening to hear of your mother's demise." Dude! That was heartbreaking!

Suffice it to say, not using the right words can make you look like a real turkey.

Here's a recent Facebook post that will have you rolling in the aisles: "Happy Father's Day to all Daddy's and Papa's…enjoy!" Daddy's and Papa's what? Nudge nudge, wink wink!

It's a fact that we notice errors in speech and writing that we cannot ignore. This explains why our grammar allows us to be judged by those who love language and care to use it in all its fineness.

While flouting or relaxing grammar rules may be of little consequence in text, chat or other rapid-fire exchanges, in emails and formal writing the same is downright brutal. Typos and grammatical errors in emails reflect one's ignorance, laziness or plain carelessness, and often dim one's prospect of clinching a job, getting a raise or even making a sale. Professionals with incorrect grammar are a complete turn-off! Just as using inferior grammar reflects poorly on employees, a well-written email in a business environment is never nit-picked, if not appreciated. Back in 2012 the Harvard Business Review posted I Won't Hire People Who Use Poor Grammar. Isn't that why even two years later the post is doing the rounds?

There are, however, those who argue that laying too much emphasis on the finesse of grammar is an elitist thing. What matters is the ability to express oneself without having to bother about rules.

Many here would jump to defend the leftist claim, but hygienists insist that grammar is the foundation of communication, and proper grammar conveys a message clearly to the audience. Grammar, a tool if used correctly, enhances the users' communication skills and empowers them with a certain confidence to make the right choices in various pursuits.

Published by Ruby Sahay

'Texting' Times

Ruby Sahay, Yahoo Contributor Network
May 23, 2013

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"Sup! Gr8 2 c u :) How r u?" Do you wince every time you get such text messages? Or, if you agree with the texter, do you type "shd b ok" and "LOL" to inject that much needed dose of humor into your conversation? Also, do you sign off saying, "C U…XXX"? How often do you hang up on a chat, saying "G2G...TTYL"? And, if you wish to continue after a short break, do you dash off "BRB"? How many of you with those ubiquitous hand held devices and computers, have dived into the new millennial text pool and have mastered the abbreviations and acronyms that constitute electronic chatter?

Once, on an online discussion forum, that seemed quite opinionated, I came across a feedback that was nothing more than a terse "TLDR". I balked at my lack of knowledge of the acronym. A franticGoogle search revealed, "Too Long, Didn't Read". That left me agape. And, then there was "IMHO" that saw me floundering again. 'In my honest opinion' I felt hamstrung by the new age vocabulary!

Texting and chatting with those skilled in chat lingo, introduces one to a host of tangled expressions and humorous acronyms. Texting vocab is commonly associated with youngsters who abbreviate words. Thus, whole words are substituted with letters, symbols and numerals, not just for ease and speed of typing, but more for the sheer fun of it, so much so that there seems to have evolved a new order amidst all the chaos. But must one really give in to the juvenile dictionary? Personally speaking, I seldom find myself using inscrutable acronyms and freaky spellings that may perceptibly categorize me into the league of young people. Yet, all that reluctance takes a beating when one wishes to pack in information, courtesy and etiquette into a conversation, plus save time on ornate typing. Given the frequency of web chats and the need to convey spontaneous emotions, even purists are seen breaking rules handily, and bowing to digital glossary. It ensues that as time, space and emotions condense, the wordbook gets customized forthwith.

As text speak spews bizarre expressions and articulation among the youth brigade, lack of use of the same sadly gets the youngster dubbed 'uncool', LOL! Much to the chagrin of mature users XXX, BRB, TTYL, OMG, IDK, ROFL, C U, and TMI are some of the esoteric acronyms on Instant Messaging and texting. If you are skilled at IM and still do not know what TBH or TMI means, then both you and I must admit to holding a rather scant knowledge of chat acronyms and kinky abbreviations. 

While fledglings gain frightening proficiency in the messaging lingo, linguists fume at the flagrant abuse of conventional spelling and grammar. The scenario however, gets watered down when parents, with an awareness of the potential dangers that surround their children on social networking sites, scramble to decode cryptic acronyms and smileys. 

In a fast changing world, as Facebook comes of age and more and more youngsters drift to Twitter, the need to abridge texts is even greater. Old-timers needn't fear, falter and frown at the fusion lexicon. Perhaps, in the digital age, your BFF with speed pills in hand, is blameless in text speaking 'AAYF'. And, conservatives who coined 'IOU' way back in the 17^thcentury can undoubtedly blink at that. :) 

Published by Ruby Sahay

Trending Vocab: Verbalizing

Ruby Sahay, Yahoo Contributor Network
May 17, 2013

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"Well, I googled the recipe for that perfect guacamole!" Now how's that? Did you ''Google'' the recipe or did you ''search on the Internet''? The latter may appear as a term conventionally preferred but the former increasingly trends in usage. And despite the fact that one may use several other search engines to look up a fact, one simply ''googles'' it. Interesting, isn't it? One of the most flourishing developments in modern communication is the burgeoning use of verbalizing. 

Verbalizing implies converting nouns to verbs. Though primarily a grammatical affair, verbalizing has recently become a popular style in tète-à-tète. Accordingly, a host of commonplace terms, expressions and phrases have acquired a face lift, so much so that our generation of youngsters uses them with easy familiarity. The tendency goes on to embrace a host of English speakers who find themselves using innocuous, modern-day versions of the more accustomed, typically used words and phrases. You may ''airbrush'' a picture, but it is rather acceptable to say that you ''Photoshopped'' it. Whether you have the Photoshop tool or not, the term ''Photoshopped'' simply implies some sort of a camouflage that could have created a more endearing version of the real thing. Cool, isn't that?

Now, will you ''unlike'' me for being wacky or simply ''message'' me saying that you do not quite appreciate the way I'm getting along? Alternatively, you could 'inbox' me your number and I could call to explain myself. You may recoil at my lingo, but I guess I'm fine as long I'm ''Facebooking!'' However, if you still dislike me, you simply have to ''unfriend'' me. Notice how the Internet and social networking make vocabulary faddishly easy.

Verbalizing nouns has definitely to do with grammar, but modern day verbalizing has, to a marked degree, ''compartmentalized'' itself into informal conversation and social networking. Your friend's teen kid has made news by ''summiting'' the Everest. And while the kiddo may cringe about ''rooming'' with a geek at college, he has certainly chanced upon ''interfacing'' with a rocket scientist. For all you know, they may just ''partner'' on a new project and enjoy ''dialoguing'' about mutual interests.

Much of the recent verbalizing trends can be attributed to the Americanization of English. As British English is rapidly incorporating American flavors, ''verbalise'' with -ise is now written as ''verbalize'' with an -ize. Thus, it isn't uncommon to use words like ''symptomize,'' ''commercialize'' '''radicalize,'' or ''glamorize,'' yet it is more of a trend to say ''twitterize'' yourself, ''vampirize'' the guy and ''calendarize'' the events. These catch phrases may not have found their way into mainstream dictionary but there's something called an Urban Dictionary. Did you know about that yet?

It is a fact that users of English have taken certain words to the gallows and reincarnated them with a dash of colloquialism. Nevertheless, one mustn't forget that verbalizing is often wrought with trickiness. It is fine to 'text' a friend and 'spam' a stalker, but one certainly cannot post a link on another's Facebook page and say, "Hey! I've 'linked' you a funny video." Also, you can ''Google Search'' a long lost friend but you simply cannot ''Yahoo Search'' him. You may ''email," ''ping'' or ''WhatsApp'' him, but you possibly can't ''Facebook'' or ''LinkedIn'' him. And, do you realize that while you can ''lunch'' or ''dine'' with the consultant who ''head hunted'' you for your current role, you definitely cannot ''breakfast'' or ''coffee'' with him, if you so desire. Doesn't that get unpredictable?

Long live, Mother

Choked with emotions, brimming with memories and suffused with thoughts of my very beautiful mother, I pen a few lines as a tribute to her on this very first Mother’s Day, without getting to hear her voice any more. I lost a part of me, my best friend and confidante on 20th October 2013. The ache to feel her presence is beyond words… Call it a eulogy or a mere doodle, it’s what I’ve summed in words for you, Mummy!

Long live, Mother

I yearn to visit the land of summers

Where the air is clement

And the sun, unceasing bright

Where there are blossoms of life

Intense and bright, warm and tight

Is that an Atlantis?

A flight of imagination?

Or, the fairylands?

Not until I bade adieu to your arms

Did fantasy turn a fore time reality?

Where the choicest blossom

Was your love, a luminous hue

 An elixir nurturing lives

And brought forth a floret

That blooms alike its creator.

A self-akin that tassels out

The love that came its way,

Kindles a flame alike, warm n bright

Who else, but I, a mother myself

Radiates the warmth once absorbed.

Creators and creations beat the drum,

Feast and fete devotedly this Mother's Day

When, to you, sweet Mother

I solemnly offer a bounty of love

Not seared by distance, nor blurred by time

When Beauty Vexes Beast

http://bkhush.com/dev/content/when-beauty-vexes-beast

Submitted by Ruby Sahay on Wed, 10/24/2012 - 06:55

Posted in 

• Relationships

  (A he-man account of spousal familiarity)

I kicked off celibacy only to realize that clearing the clogged shower is a ritual that I shall have to live with for the rest of my life. The shower drain, wordlessly, almost as still as a mouse awaits my ingress after she’s reviled it with her follicular strands of myriad hues. I had known fringes and locks to exist in shades of black or brown and perhaps grey if she were older, but she’s introduced me to colours, the names of which I’ve never learnt at the nursery school - brunette, auburn and burgundy. Whew! There’s a lot to attain as I go on, staggeringly, tediously!

Well, well, just when I plonk myself on the couch and cruise channels on the telly while hungrily previsioning a sizeable meal, she declares with vehemence that she’s in no mood to fix the feed. With not enough options, I take her out to a close-at-hand joint for a decent meal in order to assuage my already rumbling tummy. Half way through the chow down she declares she is stuffed. And I’ve barely eaten! To round off a full course meal, I order a tiramisu pudding, just one, for she is already full. The sight of the arrival warms me generously to offer to her a spoonful to sample. And there she goes, not one, not two, but several spoons until I realize that it is I who has done the sampling. I do solemnly admit that life, for the likes of me, comes in bite sized bits, and we have to contend with that.

We decide to head off on a holiday, and I come back home the evening before with my car all tuned for the week-long run. As I walk into our ‘abode’ I’m awakened to the shocking revelation that my partner has exhausted her brimming wardrobe and awaits a shopping trip to revamp the same, and all this before we pack off on our venture. I suggest with the deepest sigh ever, that a few casuals, in case she disdains the idea of being pictured in the same ones in different snapshots, would rightly do the job. She instinctively refuses. I, who am constantly working on ideas to reach an accord, suggest that we could indulge in a bit of shopping at a newer outlet in the new place. The idea is met with an acceptance and is already being looked forward to with an earnestness you cannot fathom. Boy! How easily I learn that in pursuit of harmony, I shall have to be my salvager. Yes, destination signed in, I propose to take her to the Mediterranean restaurant which promises a distinctive platter of indulgence. Dolly’s evidently vexed with the excursion that was solely intended to be a joyride for her. All she pronounces is, “Whatever, I’m okay with anything!’’ And now when the ‘shawarma’ comes with a ‘tahini’ that does not befriend her taut palate, pop comes the retort, “You know how SICK I’ve grown of the same old falafel and shawarma, we’d rather gone for Chinese!!” Ugh! When did she tell me that? And now as I flop myself down on the hotel bed, enormously tired of the day’s expedition, she stands right there in the middle of the room, cross-examining every piece of furniture with a roving eye and finally blurts, “Could we check out the other rooms, as well? This one doesn’t seem to offer such a magnificent view.” God! Why don’t you just hit the sack? You badly need cool off!

Our tastes do never converge on our choice of books. But as I sit down with the fat thriller I have been intending reading for days, she at once grabs it, gormandizes it for a week and once finished she throws it away in a nook only to declare, “What rubbish!”

She’s ALWAYS there offering an assessment on almost anything and everything that meets her eyes and ears. Gosh! Does she ever realize what a slob she appears with her presumptions and unwanted sentiments? And inadvertently if I ever disclose the unfounded, unwarranted, I’m subjected to a judiciary which perhaps surpasses the strictest courts of justice!! I did have the license to do what I wanted yet I abandoned all that for an association that promised a harmony in its being. And now as I sail through the choppy waters of an alliance that can be felt only upon taking the plunge, I do hope for a small bit of fair weather. Someday I hope to be accepted for not being a mind reader, and I choose not to be spoken in hints but clear words preferably a trite ‘yes’ or ‘no’. Whenever I am glued to my favourite soccer match on television, I would like to be spoken to only during commercial breaks. And, please do not get your antennas up each time my cell phone rings,after all it doesn't always pay to be such a store-house of knowledge. When we have to go out, I should not be subjected to the torture of having to approve of your outfit. You can wear almost anything and everything that pleases you. And if you are a butterball, do accept, my words will not reduce your size. Also, do not gnarl when I look at that hot chick in micro minis. Have eyes, will see! AND most importantly, I should not be expected to reveal any more than what meets the eye!

After all, life is tough, let's keep things simple - you and I.

No Country for Women

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Submitted by Ruby Sahay on Wed, 01/23/2013 - 07:09

Posted in 

• B'Informed

 A nation that boasts of a surging economy, growth and potential, burgeoning skyscrapers, Bollywood gloss and above all, of intelligent minds in diligent beings, hangs its head low with shame brought to it by its very own people. Ordinary citizens who reflect the pulse of a nation and leaders who hold the beacon for them, have constantly mauled, mangled and abused the fragment of a civilization that supposedly prides over its socio-cultural value system.
Amid all the growing depravity lies a dysfunctional penal system that not just fails to deliver justice, but fuels a warped and wanton society. For an economy that desires to advance, the prime focus lies in eradicating poverty and unemployment, and creating good governance.
India’s focus has suddenly shifted to issues of women’s rights, safety and respect, and the nation’s much-hyped modernity has taken a beating. All at once it feels that India has moved decades back into the dark ages prior to the socio cultural reforms. Even as, Indians are striving towards an egalitarian society, their progress gets intermittently mowed down by the under- current of gender inequality that raises its ugly head from time to time.

Antipathy towards women and gender based violence begin in the womb, and female foeticide in India is a practice that has reached a horrific proportion. "In a report by the Lancet, the world’s oldest and most respected medical journal, over a 20-year period, ten million female foetuses have been aborted in India".(Courtesy:Gulfnews.com) In a traditional Indian family, a girl is expected to grow up, get married and look after the household of the new family of which she becomes a member. This is what a girl is brought up to do, and this is the sole mission forced upon her. While her parents often live in debt in trying to secure a dowry to get her married, their only hope to relieve them of the burden lies in their son or sons preferably. The son, who is counted on to support his parents and liberate them of their debt, fulfills his role by marrying a woman who brings in a substantial dowry and looks after his parents. Although an outlawed practice, dowry continues to be a social evil in Indian societies. Dowry demands, traditions and cultural beliefs in India, often see a girl as a financial burden and thus result in her death even before she is born. In many cases, she is killed after she is born.  Female foeticide and infanticide are issues that shame India deeply, and the preference for male children makes it an absolute challenge for girls to enter the male dominant society.

For an ordinary Indian woman who finds herself treated merely as a man’s possession and as an object to appease a man's lust, it is indeed a stark challenge for her to live in a male chauvinistic society. In most cases women in India suffer a strong identity crisis in being treated solely as daughters, sisters or wives; why cannot women be treated as distinct individuals “Of all the rich G20 nations, India has been labeled the worst place to be a woman. But how is this possible in a country that prides itself on being the world's largest democracy?”-The Guardian. Gender bias and sexual harassment are experienced, not just in public places, workplaces and institutions, but in the shelter of a woman’s own home. What comes to light now and again is a gross violation of women’s rights and the abuse that they are subjected to. The most influential Bollywood clearly mirrors this sentiment as it warbles bawdy item numbers to which the likes of Sheila and Munni gyrate their pelvis, and lascivious men feed on suggestions. What reeks is a mentality that confines women and disregards their liberation, and thus projects them as the weaker sex that is forever in peril of forfeiting its modesty.  In other words, Indian women face a precarious existence. In view of the latest act of utmost horror that has left a nation convulsed, the spotlight is on rape, violence and a gross violation of women’s rights to peaceful existence.  The recent incidence of the most barbaric rape and murder of the twenty three year old Delhi student has all at once revealed how badly India often treats its women, the extent of sexual harassment prevailing and how a despicable patriarchal society continues to feed on misogyny. With the advancement that India claims to have made in the recent years, nothing much has changed for its people. The struggle for basic education, jobs, shelter for the deprived, and the acute vulnerability that women face in a nation that paradoxically deifies female power, seem to mock at a democracy that often turns complacent with a stray progress made in a stray area. But what about the basic human rights of an entire gender?

Gender based inequality, sexual violence, a largely male dominant society and a rather sluggish judiciary have gnawed into the fabric of one of the largest democracies and a developing economy. Recently the Supreme Court has slammed New Delhi for being a highly unsafe city for women.  Ironically, it is the same people who gawked at the bloody, naked twenty three year old, left to die on the roadside after being brutally gang raped, are today clamoring for justice and safety of women.  The men who stopped by, refusing to offer help to the  bleeding, perishing woman, for fear of being harassed by the police, today fear for the lives of their own daughters, sisters and wives. Thus, the wide spread protests. Leaders who offer suggestions and guidelines to curb sexual abuse and promote safety and security for women, only seem to jeer at the 'weaker sex'. What hurts is the fact that India still fails to see women as individuals who have an equal right to dignified living as their male counterparts.

India’s biggest impediment to advancement lies in its not empowering women and its inability to ensure equality of genders.  Securing and safeguarding women’s rights and interests are the basic steps in the direction. A positive discrimination will possibly help reduce gender bias. Laws to ensure complete safety for women at all times,  wiping out political and judicial apathy towards women’s concerns, and stricter laws not just against rape, but all forms of sexual assault and harassment can help women attain their rightful position in the society.  Women, world over, in various societies face some form of violence and abuse. In India, however, it is the extreme callousness and inhumanity that women suffer, makes their plight deplorable.

Centuries back, Swami Vivekanand related the welfare of the world to the condition of women: “There is no chance of the welfare of the world unless the condition of women is improved”. Of Indian women in particular, he said, “The principal reason why our race has so degenerated is that we have no respect for these living images of Shakti. Manu says,” Where women are respected, there the Gods delight, and where they are not, there all work and efforts come to naught.’’ Decades earlier when Mahatma Gandhi urged men to treat their women with respect, he said, ““To call woman the weaker sex is a libel; it is man's injustice to woman. If by strength is meant brute strength, then, indeed, is woman less brute than man. If by strength is meant moral power, then woman is immeasurably man's superior.” (Young India, 4 October 1930)” As India celebrates Swami Vivekanand’s a hundred and fiftieth anniversary, this piece can be rightly summed up in his words “The best thermometer to the progress of a nation is its treatment of its women.” India, can you hear? Image Source : capariwar.com
 

The Gun Ride to Heaven

Pop, bangs, thundering and pounding 
Gunfire, blood, and an eerie moan
Leaning in her pew, crying to herself
forlorn expression, tear-rimmed eyes
Disconsolate stands the mother to the girl
who picked out her white communion dress
Will that home ever see light
where Christmas gifts lie wrapped tight
through the years that will follow ?

The unthinkable, when it descends
a faith is convulsed not in God alone, but in the guild
A freak Friday morn heaved horrific horror
for loved ones of the twenty sinless souls
A safe haven for children reduced to 
a national symbol of heartrending terror
Carnage in class rooms where no one left to save.

While gun control advocates grow quieter
the gun lobby grows stronger and louder
It was Denver, Oregon and now Connecticut
How many more mortalities from mass shootings 
before America talks of sensible gun control
For, if you have the right to bear arms,
think of those who remain unarmed
in a given place, at a given time
A decaying culture and mental illness
Spells insanity for one and gloom for the rest.

All Things Christmas

 It is the time to praise the Babe

 who brought in cheer to the somber chill

 and thereon began 'Cristes Mæsse'

 and we shall rejoice for it's Chistmas time

 I long to bring the fir tree home

 And grace the nook that lies bare

 bells, lights and tinsels adorn

 O the joys of a blessed season

 I dream to wink at that jolly old elf 

 huffing and puffing as he hollers in

 I crave to hear the peal of bells 

 as Dasher n Dancer prance 'n tinkle

 I wait to hang a stocking there

 that he shall fill with gifts of love 

 my stocking fillers he knows best

 are bounties of joys for them I love

 I fancy not of gems and riches

 all I seek is love galore

 a season full of mirth and gaiety

 one that brings in joyous hopes

 I set on to fill my pad with greens

 a mistletoe moment and holly wreaths

 pots of poinsettias and rose blooms

 O how flushed is the beauty of joy

 I ache to sit by the hearth’s glow

 and sing aloud the tunes of bliss

 come and join, my loved ones

 it's you I seek to flux the freeze 

   

 I pine to huddle in the ardor of love 

 gleams and beams to cling 'n coddle

 a time for togetherness and for joys

 as Christmas carols the chorus croon

 Ring in the joy of red and green

 let's jingle and jangle this Christmas in

Marriage, Beauty and Infidelity

http://bkhush.com/dev/content/marriage-beauty-and-infidelity

Extra marital affairs have never been uncommon. While it is unfortunate that infidelity comes about and shakes an otherwise stable marriage, the fact that it has been prevalent in all sections of societies around the world, adds a sense of disquiet amongst couples. However, we do not bother ourselves with affairs that do not concern us. Nevertheless, there have been numerous extra marital escapades between people of repute and those in high offices that have intrigued us in some degrees. All such liaisons, irrespective of the reasons they develop, are outrageously scandalous, shameful, and unacceptable. They get the world speaking of the unspeakable. Even as, each such affair sets a deterrent example there are a few, very few, from which the society in particular, and a generation at large draws a cautionary note. Such is the fallout of the recent scandal between the CIA chief David Petreaus and his biographer, Paula Broadwell.

As news of the David Petreaus-Paula Broadwell affair cascaded down the media, my gut reaction, like that of countless others was to see what wife Holly Petreaus looked like. While reasons for the liaison could have reasonably varied, a diatribe against an ageing wife who looked more like a 'grandmother' to her rather ‘tanned, taut' husband, flocked the cyberspace. Going by pictures and videos, one couldn't agree anymore that the general's romping with a woman twenty years his junior was plainly inevitable, given the fact that she is every bit of a head turner as opposed to his unadorned, plain Jane wife of thirty eight years. "I'd have done the same thing," said a commentator on CNN's website. The media have raved and ranted enough over the affair, especially why Holly Petreaus did not seek to make herself any ‘lovelier’. Interestingly, public opinion too, has held wife Holly’s physical appearance as a contributory factor in her husband’s straying. Hence, the question that arises uppermost in one’s mind is whether beauty is the salient weapon a woman needs to keep her husband hooked.

While popular press confirms that the wife of the ‘philandering general’ has been the rock on which he has relied in a preoccupying career, Holly Petreaus's personal pain comes more as a threat every woman faces as she ages alongside her still winsome husband, who spends more time at work with a luminously beautiful woman. Enough reasons for Cupid to strike its arrow. Enough reasons for bio chemistry to get working between the beguiling nymph and the suave commander who certainly loves his homely, not-much-to-look-at wife of nearly four decades, and one who has been the bedrock of his success, but who fails to set his libido humming the way the new woman does. Sin of sacrilege? Well, for a while, let’s keep moral issues aside, and talk about a wife who, cloaked in the security of a ‘seemingly’ rock solid marriage, finds it immaterial to bow down to the standards of vanity and cosmetic beauty, and consequently allows herself to let go. She has other meaningful issues and pressing concerns to dwell on, especially with her husband’s absorbing career that she has all the while supported firmly. How well do her efforts pay? Furthermore, why is she held virtually responsible in tainting her own marriage?

Very often the man in the street inevitably draws subtle hints and inferences out of such a national scandal. Here, one discovers an ageless monster that raises its grisly head, and reminds every woman that an age old marriage in no way guarantees a lifetime of her husband's loyalty to her. A blaring reality emerges: no matter how accomplished and successful a woman is, she plunges to her downfall with greater rapidness if she fails to conform to the conventional standards of physical attractiveness. A scribe on a popular news website was of the opinion that Holly Petreuas' "entire demeanor, her hair, no makeup, her frumpy clothes, seem to scream to her husband and others ... I don't care!”-Chicago Tribune. Funnily enough, if a beautiful woman is betrayed, numerous other reasons surface for the betrayal, and all do indisputably agree that beauty is just insignificant to keep a marriage intact. In Holly's case ironically, it is this insignificance that has gained significance, and forces women to agree to the time honored allegory, that it is beauty with which she can harness her beast. Needless to say, a personal tragedy between three individuals who the world did not know until yesterday, has not just suddenly won a viral empathy, but has come to undo the perception that 'beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder'.

Leo Tolstoy had said, “It is amazing how complete is the delusion that beauty is goodness”. This has forever been a universally accepted truth. Coco Chanel, the French fashion designer and founder of the Chanel fashion brand, contrastively opined, “A girl should be two things: classy and fabulous.” So even as Paula Broadwell is tailor made for the Chanel school of beauty, Holly Petreaus firmly supports Tolstoy. As the recent CIA scuttlebutt unfolded in generous doses, with pictures of the two women in their respective aura, all that clamor for a nick here and a tuck there, a Botox up and a silicone in has suddenly come to fuel ordinary women's minds like never before. The fact that women take extraordinary efforts to look physically attractive confirms that societies focus largely on physical appearances.

Physical beauty is a unique "combination of social consensus and genetic fitness". This is where the world associates the alluring Broadwell, the then tantalizing Monica Lewinsky and the ultimate sex symbol for generations, Marilyn Monroe. There is a tug of war that has surfaced in people's minds with Broadwell's beauty and brains, and Holly P's brains and her unflinching support to her husband, sans beauty. What turns out is that Holly Petreaus' plight has suddenly become every ageing woman's nightmare. Years ago Hillary Clinton suffered the same blow when Bill Clinton's affair with Monica Lewinsky hit the headlines. Each time a less glamorous wife loses out to her sexier counterpart it is plainly inferred that her fading beauty or none thereof, works to her disadvantage. It becomes analogous, therefore, that just as one needs to perform consistently to keep one's job, a woman tirelessly, endlessly needs to enhance her looks, apart from all her other attributes, to keep her marriage. While there certainly is a LOT MORE than mere physical attractiveness that brings a man and a woman mistakenly together, what is it that leads us to the fearful conclusion that beauty is a predominant, if not the only factor in contributing to infidelity?

Thou Shalt Die Because I Believe.....

Savita Halappanavar died after she was allegedly denied an abortion in a pro-life Catholic country. Malala Yousafzai survived a near fatal encounter with the Taliban bullet. Chris Stevens, the US ambassador to Libya was killed by terrorists who attacked the U.S. consulate in Benghazi, Libya.  Dissimilar that these deaths may be and dissimilar may be the circumstances that have brought them about, yet a common thread links them together: death in the name of religion. While all instances of death that occurred or could have occurred took place in different situations, it was religious fundamentalism that sowed the seeds.

Malala lived in the Swat province, a region that militant groups controlled, and in her campaign for the rights of girls to be educated, had written a diary on Taliban atrocities for the BBC Urdu service. The Pakistan Taliban said it carried out the attack because Malala was 'promoting secularism'. Savita, who was under immense pain and agony as a result of miscarrying the foetus, repeatedly asked for her pregnancy to be terminated. Doctors, who could have saved her, turned down her pleas because the fetal heart beat was still present, and abortion could not be performed because Ireland is a Catholic country.  Chris Stevens, a career diplomat whose humility, warmth and integrity won him friends across the Middle East, friends who came to trust him even as they  doubted his government.  Stevens’ tragic death came as a 'spontaneous response' and a 'senseless outrage' to an online preview of a film considered offensive to Islam.  Extremist forces decried Malala's attempts to secure education for girls and women, for they believed that "whom so ever leads a campaign against Islam and Sharia is ordered to be killed by Sharia.”. So much said for the causes that have led to the deaths and the attempted annihilation of lives that ought to be lived.

If one can make sense out of the analogies, one will agree that Chris Stevens and Hallapanavar passed away because religion was placed above their lives. Malala's survival, on the other hand, is hailed as God's will. The question that arises is, whose will determines our lives: is it our own, or is it the will of the fundamental forces around us that determines our right to live; or further still, is it the will of the invisible force that is believed to be the ‘sole custodian’ of life and death? While the latter seems a matter of faith and thus abstract, the former are more concrete and thus become the real factors that govern our lives in a world ridden with prejudices and dogmas. While 'religious' doctors refused to stop a tiny, failing heart beat that they knew was dying and thereby posing an enormous risk to a healthy heart, they did not care to save the woman who had a right to live and to be protected.

These examples may hardly be enough when one goes back to a host of killings that have taken place the world over in the name of religion. Graham Staines’ burning to death in Keonjhar district of Orissa, India, way back in 1999 still gives one goosebumps as one thinks of it. Public protests condemn Savita’s abortion death. A nation has mourned the death of its diplomat, and the world prays for Malala's speedy recovery.  What remain unchanged in the face of these reactions are the dogmas that support these deaths. When Hitler defended his rights to exterminate the Jews, he said, "Hence today I believe that I am acting in accordance with the will of the Almighty Creator: by defending myself against the Jew, I am fighting for the work of the Lord."  The world stood shocked as the ‘great emissary of evil’ leashed genocide against those held together primarily by their religious beliefs.

It is paradoxical that religion, a set of beliefs that unites people even as it polarizes them into secular forces, becomes the underlying factor of one's right to live. The irony of religion lies in the fact, that even as it is created to uphold life and provide a sense of direction to righteous living, it increasingly becomes a weapon to exterminate life.  How right is the self-righteousness that we practice in the name of religion? How does a false sense of guardianship and the consequent security that religion extends to its believers, stand vindicated? Furthermore, how just is the fanaticism that comes with a blind adherence to religion? Why doesn’t intellectual responsibility triumph over religious faith? Is human life so fragile that it should crumble under the force of someone else’s belief? If this is what religions stands for, why does the religion of humanity not raise its head? 

Melancholy

On woodland path cloaked in red, I trudge up to nowhere

My warmth is spent, a chill doth sets, a gloom spans the sphere

The lake lies dull sans a ripple, I cry a tearless tear

She lies wrapped, in earth's bosom, her voice I long to hear

As October twilight fills the air, a haze befogs her visage

My heart aches to feel but once the warmth of her embrace

A bosom friend, that destiny hurled once into my path

My life that earned a treasure rich, flowed louder than a strath

An autumnal mist eclipses life that sparkled like a beam

My mate n' chum, she now recedes to morning's fading dream

White as snow the wintry chill has snubbed off the wick

The flame we lit has long died, its soot I scrape off thick

Spring comes n' summer fades, 'tis fall's chill afore winter's snow

A season comes and a season goes and all that stays is but the blow

The Static Face of an Evolving India

The term 'marriage' generally bears a striking connotation: love and a life together. Love is the key ingredient of this social union between two people who are committed to spending their lives together.  What logically ensues is that in order to get married one needs to be in love. Wedlock seals the romantic involvement and a new life begins for two people. True. This is commonly and most naturally the case the world over. In India, however, the scenario is entirely different.

This is one country that regales in its age old tradition of 'arranged marriages'. While, getting married becomes almost imperative for every Indian, falling in love is even today frowned upon. Paradoxically, in a land where remaining unmarried is considered lacking a fundamental ingredient of life and an embarrassment, a youngster in love, evokes the piquant curiosity of his peers and invites nasty insinuations from the elderly about his/her romantic relationship. In major parts of India, being in love before marriage is a virtual stigma. So is remaining single. A girl in love supposedly brings 'shame' upon her family. And all hell breaks loose if the boy she's in love with happens to be from a caste/ community different from hers. In order to salvage the family's 'honour', the girl is either hastily married off to another boy of a 'respectable' background, falling within the 'caste/community' compartment, or in worst cases the unwavering, undeterred girl and her lover are sacrificed by their own people in the name of 'honour killing'. Shocking as it may seem, yet this act of barbarism continues to be practiced in parts of the country. Most couples in love, however, are lucky enough to get a positive nod from their respective families. In such cases too it seldom is an easy win for them. Often parents put up a stiff resistance to their children's choices and ultimately, fearing an estrangement from their heirs, give in. At other times, however, the girl and the boy, two consenting adults, are forced to marry someone against their own wishes.

In the background of these somber, sour and unyielding practices, the age old tradition of arranged marriage still exists as the most acceptable way to matrimony. Funnily enough, Indian parents proudly take the onus of finding suitable matches for their children, and getting their 'independent' children married off is an incumbency carried out almost theatrically. The practice, in today's world that significantly values individual freedom and choices in all that one does, appears downright stifling and outdated. Recently, while talking to a cousin in India, who works as a software engineer with a reputed multinational, I casually asked her about her plans for marriage. The youngster replied saying that while marriage was most plainly on the cards, she was still waiting for Mr. Right. I asked her if she had someone in mind, to which she replied in the negative, and said that she expected her parents to do that for her. Some twenty years back the answer would not have befuddled me, but today I found it difficult to stomach that. What is simply beyond comprehension is, the way a person who's come to be independent, with a distinct conception of life and choices, allows someone else to choose a 'life partner' for him/her. Isn't that a decision reserved exclusively to the individuals concerned?

Most Indian parents, in their mid-ages, spend a chunk of their time and resources playing match makers to their offspring. The burgeoning matrimonial websites come appreciably to their aid. Bharat Matrimony, a ubiquitous name in Indian households, boasts of having entered the Limca Book of Records with a record number of marriages. Not that 'love marriages' are non-existent. With changing times, 'love matches'- a term not used in the western world, are gaining grounds especially in urban India. However, such marriages are arranged by families, dutifully and most self- righteously, by way of mutual approval and compliance. In ancient India, where the idea and role of the individual was not well recognized and remained relatively blurred, the concept of arranged marriage did work, and those marriages were fairly successful too. Today, however, Indians with a decent education and career have veered far from the age old way of living, but when it comes to settling down in marriage, they most often lie, bereft of any romantic association, almost wholly at the wishes of their parents. And it thus is a 'loveless match' to begin with. It would be further intriguing to note that many of the youngsters have had no romantic involvement at all until they get married, which happens anytime around their mid-twenties or later. And this is highly regarded by the older generation and often passed off as a mark of 'integrity of character'. To such couples, sex comes, not as a result of love, but more as a result of a natural transpiration between a man and a woman being 'made to sleep together' for the purpose of nurturing the family tree, and for enabling a ‘socially accepted’ way to satisfy their basic human instinct. What follows marriage is a life bogged down with family pressures and responsibility, so much, so that love merely remains an object of fantasy, restricted to books and films.

In a land where individuality and personal space do not come easily and naturally, it appears that the age old tradition of arranged marriage has not just survived, it is continually evolving to suit the needs of a changing populace. And so, a 'fair complexioned, smart, beautiful convent educated, 5ft2'' docile, homely, graduate, Brahmin girl of 22,' of the 80s and 90s has now progressed to a 'beautiful, Hindu, Mumbai based investment banker 25, progressive woman with a spiritual bent, seeks alliance with like-minded Hindu man, preferably based in the US ; caste no bar'. In a progressing India the old arrangement still works, with a constant variable of 'beauty' as an essential criterion for an Indian bride. Not just in India, but scores of Indians settled in America and other parts of the world, continue to opt for arranged matches with a view to retain their culture. The difference is that back home, parents play a decisive role in these marriages. Romance and courtship between couples-to-be is not encouraged. And all clandestine meetings, if any, to that effect are often swept under the carpet and not given enough importance. Indians living westwards generally have a strong say in their own, arranged relationship. Furthermore, the need to know one another is far more crucial and relevant than what goes on at the family levels.

It can be summed up that arranged marriages continue to hold their charm for Indians. The flavors get somewhat marinated in the changing times, but families still look for decent brides and a US based software engineer continues to be the most sought after groom.

Beery Tales

We sometimes spend too much time indulging in a particular interest, so much so that it is generally disapproved of by others, and though we are not considered eccentrics, yet the indulgence yields little to us. Such an excess is termed as a 'fetish'. Women often have a fetish for something that relates distinctly to their feminism. A fetish ranges from something optionally tiring, like cleanliness, to something apparently splendid and impressive, like housekeeping, and then something typically crazy like beauty, personal grooming, fitness and then women often have that characteristic obsession for clothes, accessories and jewelry. I, myself, most shyly admit to having a fetish for beautiful hair! I strongly believe that great hair compliments a woman's looks more than all the adornments that she may try.

I am inherently blessed with voluminous, dark tresses that, at the moment, seem to be en voyage to losing their glorious sheen. My erstwhile youthful years, coupled with a stress free life, and not to miss the adequate climatic conditions of the region that I once lived in, contributed immensely to my flaunting a healthy mane. I took little efforts to earn the admiring and envious glances of women not endowed with as lustrous a crown. Over the years as the biological clock ticked on and I trailed my husband to the Middle East, I soon realised that the desalinated water in the region for domestic use and personal care, became the strongest enemy of my hair. Within weeks of my arrival here, the tress, in open rebellion, began to part with the rest of my physical self. I started losing hair in tufts. Thereon began the ongoing agony of bidding a continual farewell to something I had once proudly possessed.

My rounds of Dubai, the city that I happily settled down in, led me to discover that hair treatment salon and parlors galore here. Numerous hair treatments exist, most of which I learnt upon my arrival here. Pharmacies and stores do a thrift business not just with skin care products but the ones for hair care, as well. The leading brands in treatment products for smoother and stronger hair, across the world find their way into stores and professional salons here. While shampoos and conditioners are one of the very basic, intrinsic hair care products, there exists a long list of names in specialist items like keratin wax, chocolate wax, mousse, masks, souffles, cream, sprays, serums, hot oil treatments, the very strange 'snake oil' and numerous other potions, some of which until now had been alien to me. I started to loosen my purse strings on buying anything and everything that promised to restore the lost glory to my hair that had by now reduced to frazzled frizzes.

I started visiting parlors for different hair treatments that were spoken of as tried and tested therapies. Not to mention the various home remedies that followed at the behest of concerned friends, well-wishers and wellbeing magazines. I patiently waited for the desired results, yet nothing majorly helped. I felt horrible and helpless! It seemed as though every day was a bad hair day in the literal sense of the term.

Friends and acquaintances shared similar stories of follicular disasters and 'hairy tales' were told at many a parties and get togethers. I would often be an intent listener to all such tales. It was on one of these occasions that a friend suggested the use of flattened beer as a final rinse for hair. I had known about this home remedy as a great tool for softening the mane but had never tried it, probably because the lingering smell of beer somehow failed to ensnare me into using it. Smelling good is always a top priority for women, and the reek of stale beer, I was sure would be an outright declivity to one's femininity. But, in order to tame my tresses, it was time to get them boozed!

I found myself desperately giving in, although with little expectation. Hesitantly, I carried a can of flattened beer to the shower the very next day. The beverage had never caught up with my preference of drinks, and so it felt weird carrying beer to the shower. After the elementary round of shampoo and conditioning, I finally rinsed the frizziness with beer and stepped out of the shower, only to acquire the disapproval of my children, who disdainfully said that I smelt foul ! To my utter dismay they tried to stay away from me. It surely did not feel right having these little ones get sniffy. That being a Saturday afternoon, I tried to distract them by taking them out on their promised trip to the beach where the air felt refreshing.

Wrapped in an eternal cycle of unrelenting chore, I hurriedly blow dried my hair, all the while expectant of some miracle, as an end result. And this day was one when my silent prayers seemed to be getting answered, for what I arrived at was mind blowing, absolutely astounding! The instant feeling of softness in my hair amazed me, like never before. I had not felt like this in all these months. I could see lustrous strands of black and they appeared incredible. The silky feeling made me run my fingers through the new softness constantly, and I felt almost tipsy with joy. I just could not believe that an ordinary, most commonly found ingredient had done something extraordinary. I began punching the air in delight, even as the fresh, satiny fluff on my head kicked around in self-glorification. I could feel the kick, the high, call it what you may. Seldom do I share such episodes and experiences with my husband, to whom they probably appear out right absurd and rather vain.

Thus, without any knowledge of the triumphant conclusion that I had arrived at, he walked merrily on the beach, along with the kids. I followed them, still soaked in the delight of my new grand slam. With a spring in my steps, I caught up with him. The cool air on the beach blew against our faces and gently lifted my feathery, shiny locks. As the tantalising aroma of beer in my hair wafted towards my 'beer bellied' husband, I felt him come close to me, his face nuzzling into my hair. I was insanely amazed. The beer had not just worked; it had worked wonders! Something that large amounts of delicate creams, rich serums, refreshing gels or sumptuous fragrances had failed to bring about, this ordinary, smelly beer had. My fetish did not go in vain. A can of beer is now a regular sight in my bathroom. The use and the hangover persists!