#Livetweetingabortion

Posted on by Lavanya
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When there is a Twitter hashtag “livetweetingabortion” you know something’s very wrong somewhere. A 27-year old American mum-of-one has come under fire for using social media to chronicle the progress of her abortion. On Twitter and YouTube, Angie Jackson gave gory details as she aborted her three-week-old foetus, due to health reasons.

Even as I typed the first two sentences of this post, it felt surreal. Going on Twitter and writing about your body expelling your foetus seemed nothing short of barbaric. I don’t know what the mum’s intentions are for doing this, what she hopes to achieve but my mind simply boggles.

A few months back, a mum got major flack for tweeting about her son’s accidental death as he fell into the pool. I didn’t see anything odd in that as I felt she was just reaching out to some support in her time of grief. But in this case?

A case of social networking gone awry, methinks.

No Sporting Chance

Posted on by Lavanya
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First there were no uniforms, then too many clothes that weren’t uniform enough and then some fab uniforms that weren’t Made in India. Amidst all this conflicting reports regarding the Indian Winter Olympic team’s outfits, one big factor slipped by almost unnoticed. There was an Indian Winter Olympics team! Winter Olympics!

And for the first time, the officials didn’t outnumber the players 5:1.

For a country where a significant percentage of the population has barely seen < 20 deg C temperatures, much less snow, the fact that we had two skiers and a luge contestant was a huge deal. Throw in the fact that sports really isn’t our cup of chai, I think it is nothing short of phenomenal that we actually have two blokes that can ski!

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What Goes Around, Comes Around

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CLANG! CLANG!! CLANG!!
The noise of the bell would reverberate across the colony and the opposite-house aunty will lean out of her balcony and yell “Hey Lavanya! Your rickshawman has come!” That will become almost like a battle cry, spreading from house to house till it reached our compound in fever-pitch. RICKSHAWMAN HAS COME!
Though an hour and a half remained for my school bell, I had the misfortune of living farthest from school. Hence, my school run had a First In – Last Out approach and I got on to my rickety rickshaw at the ungodly hour of 8.10 AM. Never on time at 8.00 AM. Because, day after day, at 7:59:55, I would be staring into space, wool gathering and building dams with my breakfast of dal-chawal. My grandfather would be seated behind me, prodding me on with non-stop admonishments and threats. All around me, the household will be spinning at a furious pace, with the other members of the family getting ready to get on with their day. Everybody except for me, that is.

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No publicity is good publicity?

Posted on by Lavanya
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Jordon aka Katie Price would def agree to that definitely. But Tamil actor-director Parthiban? Not likely.

First he complained of Chennaionline.com illegally selling his books of poems online and then a day after, when the company’s officials furnished proof that they were in fact, asked to do so by the actor himself, he amended his statement but not without adding that it was the portal’s fault for not corresponding with him since.

Time for a new secretary, maybe, Parthiban? 

What's In A Name?

Posted on by Lavanya
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Image of British Passport

I took the last step to change my surname today. Finally. No going back. And I feel kinda weird about it.

I have been using the married name slowly and gradually since I came to the UK. From strictly stating “I WILL NOT CHANGE MY SURNAME” to ” hmm yeah maybe in my medical forms – and purely so the baby will have your name”, it was a journey fraught with difficulties. What’s in a name, you ask. Well it is MINE. The one I was born with and here I am becoming something else.

It is okay for the men, who are Mr XY from the day they are born till forever after. Unlike us poor women, who have to suffer the collateral damage of getting married, as a friend once put it. Here we are, happy going through life as Miss AB and suddenly, in one fell swoop, everything about you is changed – right from what you call “home” to your flipping name! Not fair, is it?

And, being a Tamilian, I didn’t have a “surname” as such, just my dad’s name after mine. So it felt like I was letting go of my maternal home by ditching the pater’s name.

Well I whined variations of this theme for the past almost 9 years and The Spouse has become blase to it. It wasn’t as if I didn’t have the long-winded name tacked on to mine at all. I just didn’t get it done officially – in my passport, it still stated my name as my maiden name. And that was just fine.

Till today.

This morning, we took the first step towards finally embracing Britain as “ours” by applying for British citizenship and had gone to the National Checking Service to get our documents verified and our application passed through. It was all going swimmingly till the nice lady who was checking things turned to me and went “Would you like to change your name to your married name? It would be easiest to do it now” and started the old “should I? should I not?” argument again. Though she was quick to say “You don’t have to, you know – I just wanted to point out to you if you mean to get it done, now will be the easiest time. Afterwards it will mean more money and time”. Well, there she said the magic words “more money”. After having shelled out a whopping £1310 + £85 for the three of us, we were feeling slightly sick and I think I jumped at the words “MORE MONEY”.

So, I hummed and hawed and finally mumbled “Ok fine. Change it”.

There. Changed the most fundamental bit of me forever. For less than 30 pieces of silver.

Superior Scribbler Award

Posted on by Lavanya
4

Superior Scribbler Award

Superior Scribbler? Moi? *gasp*

Especially when the awarder is a Super Superior Scribbler herself, it is no wonder that I am, thankfully, lost for words! Gosh, milady! And as this is the first award that I have received for my, er, scribbling skills, I am mega chuffed. In the same mood of mega chuffed-ness, I will do my bit and pass it on, hoping to inspire others. I am nothing if not generous.

So, my five Super Scribblers are:

1. Mags – Maggie, mum of Moppet and Munch, who writes so well. I read the post she had written on her mum, less than 200 words probably and it moved me. When one can write so well, isn’t it a crime not to do more of it? May this award inspire her to keep up her New Year resolution to blog more!

2. Poppy – aka Poppin and Sweetpea’s mum, in another of my fellow former MTBs, who writes seriously superior stuff. Her writing reflect her no-nonsense and get-straight-to-the-point persona  to a T.

3. Uttara – formerly known as Ra and Mumbai Girl, Uttara is a lovely writer. Hers is one of those blogs that make you go “Hotdamn! Couldn’t have put it better myself! In fact, why bother?” and just sit back and leave writing to the likes of her!

4. Krish Ashok – a bloke from my own neck of the woods (Besant Nagar, yo!) KA is supremely funny. How he comes up with some of the out of the world things the way he does is beyond me. His Facebook Mahabharata, tragedy of Ravana and even the hilariously redone Musee de Louvre.

5. Amrita – of Indiequill is one of my old Desicritics pals who never ceases to amaze me with he crazy funny take on life. Her insanely funny and mega extended family, her superlative grasp of all things Bollywood coupled with her quirky take on life make her blog a must-read.

Wow that was fun. Now all you peoples, please go forth and spread the joy. And not in any way you please, but following these rules of tag-dom.

* Each Superior Scribbler must in turn pass The Award on to 5 most-deserving Bloggy Friends.

* Each Superior Scribbler must link to the author & the name of the blog from whom he/she has received The Award.

* Each Superior Scribbler must display The Award on his/her blog, and link to This Post, which explains The Award.

* Each Blogger who wins The Superior Scribbler Award must visit this post and add his/her name to Mr. Linky List. That way, we’ll be able to keep up-to-date on everyone who receives This Prestigious Honor!*

*Each Superior Scribbler must post these rules on his/her blog.

Google Baba ki Jai!

Posted on by Lavanya
7

 

After 4 years of blogging and 3 years of adsense-ing, I finally made enough for Google to send me a cheque. Yep! I reached the magical $100 mark and merited a payment from Google Adsense. I am so pleased with myself – it is the first earning I have made from my blogging.

Think of the Cheshire cat – multiply that grin 10 times. That’s me now!

Onwards and upwards!

Ruchika Girhotra: Where's The Justice?

Posted on by Lavanya
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Ruchika Girhotra

19 years, 400 hearings, 40 adjournments and at the end of it, Ruchika Girhotra‘s family had no justice for the injustice meted out to them in 1990. It was in 1990 that 14-year-old Ruchika was molested by DGP Shambhu Pratap Singh Rathore and within the span of three years, drove the child to take her own life rather than face a day more of torture and harassment at the hands of Rathore and his goons.

And the punishment? Six months imprisonment and a fine of Rs 1000. That is what the life of Ruchika Girhotra is worth. That is the price of her honour, the price of the harassment her family has faced.

Shame!

A supposed pillar of the community in Chandigarh, Rathore, a Director General of Police, sworn to protect the lives of the common man, woman and child cannot keep his glands and check and molests a child, one who is the same age as his daughter and is in fact, her classmate. He, Rathore, is defended in the court of law by his wife. Not one to sit back, he keeps up a daily assault on the Girhotras – Ruchika, her ten-year-old brother Ashu and their father. Ashu is repeatedly tortured and beaten in a bid to make Ruchika take back the case. Ruchika is kicked out of school on trumped up charges and their father is harassed at work, with false cases of murder and theft filed against the Girhotras, man and boy.

After years of this non-stop harassment, Ruchika commits suicide. Not even an FIR has been filed for the atrocity committed against her and the teenager finally gives up her fight. But still her family wasn’t left in peace until they were driven out of Chandigarh, forced to take up menial jobs to survive.

Whilst the lives of the Girhotras swirled in a downwards spiral, things couldn’t be more different for Rathore. Less than a year after Ruchika’s death, Rathore gets promoted to Director General of Police. In 1999, he is recommended for a President’s Medal for Distinguished Service.

Meanwhile, the fight for justice for Ruchika continues. Ruchika’s friend Aradhana Prakash, the eye-witness, is running a signature campaign to garner support. Her family has appeared on NDTV, where Barkha Dutt interviewed various power figures like Kiran Bedi. Online petitions have been set-up, in a bid to get the President’s eye.

Will the Girhotras get justice? Will Rathore get his comeuppance? Going from the past, where Jessica Lal and Priyadarshini Mattoo got justice after a furious campaign kicked up by the people, one can live in hope. But justice? Basic rights of the common man? Truth? Do these have place in the Indian society? Or will money and power be the only currencies and, in the words of Kiran Bedi, the criminal justice system be on the side of the criminals?

Total Freedom Essential Krishnamurti

Bye bye 2009, Hellooo 2010

Posted on by Lavanya
6

Another year come and gone. 2009 – finished. Well in a day and a bit. Isn’t it the time now to make mega resolutions to turn pi that turn to dust within week 1 of the brand new year? But that isn’t the point, is it? Can anything beat the glow from the halo we get as we promise to climb Everest, find cure for the common cold, spend less time on the Internet?

My number 1 is to lose *deep breath* 11 kilos. Gym ho!
Next one, equally important, is to start writing seriously – enough to make money from it. Have been a kept woman long enough!

So go on.. spill. What are your resolutions for the New Year?