Posted on by nikita

Ye tera ghar ye mera ghar …

view of hillside buildings in shimla

One … two … three … four … the number reached almost twenty-five — almost twenty-five iron nails, used in construction. The nails I was busy picking up with a fridge magnet tied by a fragile sewing thread to one end of a rod. Given the size of my hands — jo kanoon ke haath jitne lambe nahi hain — it was difficult to grab them by bending over the washing area parapet. 

Lo and behold! There weren’t just nails. At the far end, there was a well-woven pacca house, constructed with pieces of rusty binding wire. I didn’t even get a whiff of this plan. It was built right under my nose, under the AC unit. No loose threads, no twigs, no leaves. Nothing. A sheer example of Vikshit Bharat. 

Apparently, without my knowledge, the grey-winged couple, who kept flying around the parapet, possibly scanning the place, finalized one of the chhajjas of my rented flat to build their nest. Lucky them! Neither do they need any legal papers nor any paper money to officiate over any territory, unlike many of us, who spend most of our lives saving money to buy a ghar that could be called mera. 

Like a gardener checking for weeds, the pigeons identified a seemingly safe spot and unanimously decided to lay the foundation of their sweet home. While they had already hammered the nail without much ado, I frantically kept trying to shoo them away by throwing water, only to fail. To my soft ears, their constant gutargoo began to sound like that duet song by Jagjit Singh and Chitra, Ye tera ghar ye mera ghar … 

The nest is not a problem; it is the squalor and the stench that accompany it. 

Every time I tried to dismantle the wires and nails with the same rod, these winged animals would work with more perseverance to assemble them. It seemed that every other day, we were testing each other’s patience and will. Neither of us was ready to give up like Putin and Zelenskyy, who are still at war even after 4 years. (This time I would Epstein from drawing a comparison with Mr Trump.)

But … but … but … The more you try to resist something or someone, the higher the possibility that you will fall for the same person or thing. And I’m as human as you, my readers. 

That’s the sole reason for me to keep coming back to the adamant and obdurate Mr Trump, who has the gumption to denigrate the Supreme Court justices on social media, calling them ‘Fools’ and “Lapdogs’, because for him, what matters is simply bringing back the era of MAGA — Make America Great Again. That’s what he often claims. But isn’t America still the most powerful country?

Is it the dignity of and duty towards the White House he’s worried about, or the profitability of his own house? Quite a debatable question.

But there can’t be any debate on the recent Taliban law regarding the legalization of domestic violence against women and girls, with terms and conditions applied — no broken bones and no open wounds. Sadly, these women are not even safe in their own homes. While world leaders seem to have turned a blind eye to this inhuman law, all eyes were turned on the robotic dog, or Robodog — a Chinese product passed off as Indian —  at the AI Summit back home. Undoubtedly, Indians are jugaadu in every which way. Or maybe, even today, the management of the Galgotia University (I like the name:)) believes in the 1950s Nehruvian slogan — Hindi-Chini Bhai Bhai.

Undoubtedly, Vasudhaiva Kutumbakam — the world is one family — is a good concept to practise, but not at the cost of maligning India’s rising fame. Professor Neha Singh’s fluttering responses to the media about the origin of the Robodog brought me back to the persistent fluttering of pigeons, which are also a part of the concept of Vasudhaiva Kutumbakam. 

I understand that as a part of this kutumb, I need to make more attempts to be empathetic. So, keeping my fingers crossed, I hope these pigeons will find a better place to build a ghar for themselves. 

They just need a good broker.

*****

RaGa: Ma, what happened?
Ma: Son, it’s time for Ghar Wapsi. 

Posted on by nikita

The pop-up power

It was a Sunday morning. My mom was reading a newspaper as part of her daily ritual after a typical guju breakfast. I sat beside her and started reading an online news article. While she was calmly leafing through the pages, without being distracted by the unanimated ads that filled most of the space in the paper, I was annoyingly busy hitting the little cross sign on the pop-up ads.

Pop-ups intrude on every nanosecond of your reading. The moment you try to read an article with the newly practiced concentration on your phone, a pesky ad, like the Jack in the box, suppressed for a long time, pops out, not frightening you as its job demands, but leaving you irritated. 

And the more frustrating aspect is the futile attempts to get rid of them, as they are interspersed throughout the article, much like eternal potholes on the roads, regardless of their size. The article text and the ads keep shifting since the browser, over-stuffed with other dynamic elements like images and video clips, takes time to complete loading, thereby disrupting your reading experience. In the bid to aim for the cross, when you click on the ad in utter exasperation, you are immediately transported to a new world with more information. 

Most of the time, these ads are none other than the ‘chosen ones’ by the new man-made God — the AI. Man proposes, AI exposes. He is the modern omniscient who knows your likes and dislikes. He is cognizant of your wants. He listens to you without you being aware of his presence. His intrusion into your life has almost become uncontrollable. 

Never summon a power you can’t control.

                                                              Yuval Noah Harari, in one of his interviews

Such unbridled power of technology reminds me of the celestial tree mentioned in the ancient India scriptures, though its symbolic significance varies in different religions. What AI is to the modern world, the Kalpavriksha — a wish-fulfilling tree — was to the people in ancient times. Their desires were granted at the snap of a finger — much like a click on your phone today. Who knows, those who developed AI may have drawn inspiration from yet another Indian belief and tradition —  just like many other Indian religious and cultural practices from the primordial world, which are often presented as scientific discoveries or inventions by the West, such as intermittent fasting and meditation.

Whoever is the controller — the Divine or the (divine:)) data — currently, India, Bharata, seems to be rejoicing in reclaiming its power as the guardian of the sone ki chidiya by attracting foreign investors through the Free Trade Agreement (FTA) with various countries, the latest being with the UK. (By the time my blog is published, there could be more on the list.) 

To the uninitiated, India’s economy had surpassed the UK in 2022 to become the world’s fifth-largest economy. Currently, in 2025, it has surpassed Japan, positioning itself as the fourth-largest economy, according to IMF.

See the irony of it all. The British people, who once almost caged the sone ki chidiya, are now seeking India’s help to boost their sluggish economy. 

The colonizers, who left their imprint on India’s social and cultural identity, are today impressed by India’s digital identity — the Aadhaar system. Prime Minister Starmer has shown interest in emulating such a model, modifying it to suit his country’s needs.

And the irony doesn’t end here. The Indian Air Force will soon be training fighter pilots in the UK. 

Undoubtedly, life is a full circle.

***

Click, click, click …poof, poof, poof … Mom, can I borrow the newspaper if you are done reading?

***

Me: What’s all this Gen Z protest about?
Friend: AI. American Interference. 

HAPPY DIWALI and A WONDERFUL NEW YEAR

Source of the image – https://shorturl.at/bv1XQ



Posted on by nikita

Fan, Fanatic, and Fantastic

Nowadays, my day starts with the banging of the hammer; the clanging of the rebars, sliding off a truck; the roaring machines; and the shouting of the labourers. Every other minor noise outside is lost in the din. But suddenly, one day, there was an eerie silence, as if everything came to a standstill.

In this unanticipated, random, peaceful hour, I stood up to switch on the fan. No sooner did I switch it on than the stillness in the atmosphere was punctuated by the squeaking of the fan. 

I was like, ‘Hey! I just got your capacitor changed so that you start working, and now you have found another way to seek my attention? It’s too much now.’

But, on a serious note, how much is too much? 

A whirring fan is just a small example from my day-to-day life, but what about the wife in Mumbai who made fantastic demands from her estranged husband of an 18-month-old marriage? A BMW, a luxury apartment, and ₹12 crore as part of alimony! 

Of course, there are some cases where alimony demands are genuine and a valid source of survival for a woman, especially when she is a homemaker, and when a woman is completely dependent on her husband. 

But this Mumbai divorce case in particular, and many recent divorce cases, where the wives have demanded huge alimony, give rise to debatable questions, like — where does genuine maintenance end and aspiration begin? Who draws the line between empowerment and entitlement? 

Some argue that some women play the victim card for the ease of a luxurious lifestyle, while others misuse the laws for women’s welfare, replacing them with official extortion from estranged husbands.

In such situations, how much is too much?

Even Mr. Trump, in his second presidential innings, appears to be portraying himself as a victim, assuming that America is being “ripped off” and “pillaged” by other nations in terms of trade. Caught between the dichotomy of being delusional about America’s economy and conscious of the fact that there’s neither peace nor prize for being a Nobel mediator between warring nations, the President has imposed unjustifiable tariffs on different countries — an unfair extortion at an international level?

For over four months, every night, he must have scratched his head, covered with blond hair —  yet again, a new colour, mulling over the question — How much tariff is too much tariff? And, every morning, for the same number of months, the leaders of different nations must have woken up to the fanatic ‘tweet, tweet’ notification sound. 

The twittering is still a pleasant sound, like music to the ears, reminding us of cute little sparrows, but the cooing and pooping of pigeons is slightly displeasing. At least to me. And apparently, such displeasure is not bound within the four walls of my house, but has entered the city of Mumbai as well. A dispute between the BMC and animal lovers has erupted in Dadar, regarding health concerns — BMC’s worry about the hazardous effects on human health due to the feathers and droppings of pigeons, and the protestors’ worry concerning the health of the pigeons of Kabutarkhana, who might starve to death if not timely fed. 

Again, how much is too much?

*****

Arjun: How much is too much?
Krishna: Parth, karm kar, phal ki chinta mat kar. 

Source of the image – https://encrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcQ-6VOWXUYNmZ34qkOiRkZeXQCGPSaq6EN5CA&s

HAPPY JANMASHTAMI