A Freelance Journalist Who Thinks She's the Female Hulk - sure you want to read this?

Until very recently, I had no idea how powerfully therapeutic exercise can be in any form. I’ve been obese for a number of years now and believe me, I’ve tried everything in the book – the diets, the exercises, starvation, bottle gourd juice, no caffeine, aerobics, sports, gym, surviving only on grapes for a month and on boiled vegetables the next – the list just goes on. I know every gym in my neighborhood, I know most gyms in the city actually and several people who run them.

The levels of stress I was under as a 15-year-old were drastically different from those I’m facing today. Back then, I didn’t have to worry about finding a full-time job or getting enough freelance work to be able to pay back the monthly education loan installment. Through the last decade or so, exercise has routinely been my worst enemy; not because I hated working out or was lazy, but because I was being forced to do it by people who genuinely care about my health but don’t quite get that nagging just doesn’t work with me. So because it wasn’t MY choice, I hated it. Under stress, I eat – and I binge eat. Obviously, I don’t binge eat celery and lettuce and sunflower seeds. I binge on chocolate, ice cream, cookies – pretty much anything and everything that’s bad for my body.

I had never planned to be where I am today and yet here I am. As I like to say though, plans have an uncanny tendency to make their own (other) plans.

There’s one other thing I’ve learned today. It is extremely taxing – physically, mentally and emotionally – to be a fighter. I don’t mean the kind of aggressive person that always gets into fights; I’m talking about the spirit to never give up or a will-not-be-defeated personality. Having such a personality, I’m realizing how tired I am of fighting right now; Fighting against circumstances, against people, against inhuman behavior, and against myself at times. I’m tired and stressed out and it shows in multiple ways. I have over 150 failed job applications sitting in a folder on my computer, an amazing grant opportunity decided not to knock on my door yesterday, I don’t have the money to get out of the city for a few weeks and head into the wilderness to recharge my batteries, my parents are paying my monthly loan installments because as a freelancer, I make peanuts.

Despite all that, for whatever reasons, my spirit refuses to put her hands up in defeat even though my body wants to. A body that is sleep deprived, has to work overtime given its weight and has more health issues now than it has ever had before. From a very young age, I’ve known what I want to do – professionally and personally – and I’ve never been apologetic about it because I genuinely believe that I would have been dangerously unhappy right now had I given in to the pressure of becoming a dentist or pursuing a career in engineering etc. Just like I’ve known what I want to do, somewhere I’ve always known that the path I’m choosing to walk isn’t going to be a lucrative one and as someone who doesn’t believe money is everything, I’m okay with that.

However, things become truly challenging when someone who doesn’t care a lot about money, is suddenly in a position in which making money needs to be relatively high on the list of priorities. Why? Because the confidence with which I applied for an education loan to go study environmental journalism at the graduate level will prove to be a lie if I can’t live up to the promises I made, my faith in the importance of informed, skilled environmental journalists in the world will be irrelevant if I can’t keep those promises.

I’ve narrowed the present circumstance down to two possible strategies – 1) Focus solely on landing a lucrative job even if it’s outside my academic and thus-far-gained professional experience, or 2) I accept that one way or another, I’m going to have to pay off this loan so it’s probably best to focus on building a sustainable, happy career based on long-term objectives and hard work, all the while managing finances to prioritize the bank first.

I’ve spent several sleepless nights wondering whether I too, like many of my undergrad classmates, should have moved on to pursuing an MBA and taken up a job at some random corporation or private company as a marketing or business executive. Every single time that question has been answered with a resounding “NO!” from within and I’ve ultimately smiled a sigh of relief and drifted off to sleep.

I turned 26 last month and that number is only going to increase so it makes way more sense to choose the second strategy. I’m going to get older, the loan’s going to have to be paid off no matter what, and so I might as well take the choke-collar off and live a little while trying my best to find a healthy balance.

This is where exercise comes in. I’ve now been back in India for a little over a year and wasn’t getting anywhere with the fitness goal until I decided I could travel next year and for now, I ought to invest in hiring a personal trainer who is quite frankly, brutal. I love that. This self-made, hard-working guy from a middle class Maharashtrian family inspires me with how passionate he is about getting results. I get that. When it comes to work, that’s how I am. It’s only fair then, that I at least match his dedication if not top it.

Then, 2 weeks ago, something changed. I re-realized that I was beginning to get inconsistent after some unexpected breaks in workout schedules. And I re-discovered the sheer exhilaration of playing badminton.

I started playing badminton when I was about five-years-old. The racket was taller than I was at the time. It quickly became my favorite sport and the most beloved extra-curricular activity, of which there were many. I continued playing till I was 16. I played at the district level, and was on my college badminton team until the social pressure of academics forced me to withdraw into an unpleasant study-induced state of coma in 2006-07. The HSC exam demon did away with a lot of my fun activities and I hated being confined to classrooms and tuition groups. The rebel in me hated it even more. Fast forward to last week. Thanks to the magic of technology, a group of people I know came into existence and we now have a regular group that plays badminton three days a week and it is hands-down the best thing I’ve done in the entire time I’ve been back in India.

Three days of badminton, three days of intense gym workouts and Sunday – that’s what my weeks look like now. Why is this therapeutic? Because I’m one of the very people on the planet (or so I like to believe) who gets The Hulk. Yes, The Hulk – the big, green superhero.

You know how he told Captain America in the first Avengers movie that his secret is that he’s always angry? That’s me.

I am always angry – angry about how people treat animals, about how uncivilized some people are, how uncompassionate and selfish people can be, about how people treat senior citizens or the homeless, about corruption, bureaucracy, scams, frauds, celebrity criminals getting off scot-free, migrants risking everything for a chance at life, racism, privilege, climate change deniers, having to swallow my pride when my parents pay off loan installments…You get it, right? Always. Angry.

But as a journalist and a communications professional, it is imperative that I exercise ultimate control over my anger – something I have learned to do very well over the years. The gym and the badminton court are where that anger is unleashed. Moreover, I’m a very competitive person. I don’t like losing but I’ve learned to take it in my stride if that’s the hand I’m dealt. That these two activities work their magic on my physical fitness is a definite advantage, but the fact that they are amazing stress-busters is what I love the most.

Things aren’t perfect right now and in all probability, they’re never going to be. But apparently, my personality is infused with a concoction of characteristics that render it incapable of ever giving up. So no matter what the situation, how bad it gets and how much my body wants to surrender, my spirit will never allow it to raise the white flag. Which is why, even in this sort-of-unemployed period under a disastrous dose of stress, I actually mean it when I say, “I love my job.” The element of satisfaction and happiness is unparalleled and being able to report global stories of environmental news value is the entire point of having taken out that back-breaking loan in the first place. So even though it may not be a traditional newsroom ‘job’, it is work that I love, respect and will do for as long as I possibly can because it makes me extremely happy.

An independent journalist, I report environmental and science stories of public interest for U.S.-based mongabay.com and am working on expanding my freelance network and portfolio. And because I’m a workaholic, I’m also pursuing an online Certificate Program in environmental justice while working on an application to an absolutely smashing PhD program at Michigan State. This program is outstanding – it’s everything I’ve ever aspired to do and everything I’ve done up to this point has been a work-in-progress towards achieving exactly this goal. This is the kind of opportunity that gives me a perpetual adrenaline rush and a chance to bring the full force of my life’s work down on this application and hit a home-run. Even today, I am clear as ever about knowing exactly what I want to do. I’m figuring out how to get there using a combination of routes and off-road paths, but that’s the journey – that’s life.

It’s like with love – when you know it’s right, you just know it’s right. It’s never going to be easy but it’ll always be worth it. (Full disclosure – I’m not the genius that came up with that last line.)

So this is me saying thank you to the incredible people who have taken the time out of their busy schedules to come play badminton for 4 hours a week and my trainer at the gym – for creating an atmosphere that neutralizes my anger and lets me get to work with a refreshed, clear and focused-as-hell brain that’s raring to go. I’m going to cook you guys something (hopefully) lip-smacking someday soon.

To those who’re reading this and wondering if they will ever meet their fitness goals, I am no expert on the matter but here’s a motivating quote I came across a few weeks ago that I read every morning and then actually feel The Hulk in me gearing up for a brutal hour of smashing, running and sweating – “If you want something you’ve never had, you have to do something you’ve never done.” 

Inquilab Zindabad - the resurrection. #girlsbeforecows

It has been almost 10 months since I've moved back to India after completing my Master's degree in journalism from the University of Montana in Missoula, MT, USA. But I am not writing this as a reporter or a journalist. I am writing this as a global citizen living in a democratic country, at least on paper. Blogging after a long, self-imposed hiatus, I was experimenting with my tolerance levels. Every time I read the paper or checked breaking news updates on Twitter and every time one of those stories angered me, I took three deep breaths and said to myself, "No. You can't be mad already. Flare up at the next one."

Ever since I have moved back here, I have experienced many emotions but the strongest, most consistent of them all has to be frustration. As a well-traveled, educated young woman living in India after being away for three good years, I find myself constantly frustrated at what is happening to my country and to the society I live in. Not only has my immune system suffered major blows since being back (thanks, pollution), but my blood pressure has also been a cause for worry. I had anticipated the quarter-life crisis but no 25-year-old girl should have a high BP problem. Even the doctor doesn't seem to fathom the mess in my mind. "What are you so worried about?," he asked. I'll tell you, doc. 

I'm worried about this society representing a mockery of the concept of democracy. We elect leaders to represent us in Parliament; leaders who have cases of rape and murder registered against them. We let religion become bigger than humanity. We kill in its name, we ban affordable food in its name, we refute scientific evidence in its name, we are constantly raising the bar for what qualifies as 'stupid'. As a global society, we are becoming shockingly and dangerously intolerant. We ban films that show reality because our government is afraid of what it will do to its image. The people sitting at the top of this political food-chain view everyday events through double-tinted glasses - UPA government-colored shade and NDA government-colored shade. 

During the last three days, while I have been sick thanks to another round of infections and the flu, two things have happened that deserve particular attention. 

1) The BJP-led (yes, that matters) state of Maharashtra's government got the President to sign and approve of a ban on the possession or sale of beef in the state. This bill had originally been proposed about a decade ago which was the last time that this party was in power in Maharashtra. For the last decade, the UPA government thought it unnecessary to enforce a ban on a meat that most people here can afford. The point that this ill-thought out ban will probably drive up the costs of other meats in the state thus affecting the nutritional intake of those who could only afford beef previously, is secondary. The main point - and the most potent - is that this was a religion-based decision. Practically everyone in the world knows by now that cows are sacred to Hindus. The problem is, India is not an all-Hindu nation and even if it were (playing along here), the decision of what to eat and what not to eat should rest solely upon the person who is going to ingest the food. In 2015, we are a mockery of democracy if the government can tell us not to eat something purely out of religious sentiment. I don't believe the Chief Minister of Maharashtra, Mr. Devendra Fadnavis has ever been forced to eat meat or to drink alcohol. I believe he has, like most of us, been able to decide what he wants to eat and when.

There is no scientific base to this decision - no cows are endangered, no diseases are spreading rampantly because of poor quality beef being circulated statewide, and no cows have turned into mutant aliens that might affect humans from the inside and turn them into mutant monsters. The ONLY reason for this decision - by the government - is that consuming beef is anti-Hindu. The reason this is so dangerous is because the body upholding religious sentiment over humanity is the government itself. The government is setting an extremely intolerant and regressive precedent. When religious riots break out and the government condemns these extremist acts as 'terrorism', we're all appeased but isn't this a form of religious extremism too?

What kind of a social, national and global precedent does that set? How do these politicians even have the nerve to refer to India as a developed country when clearly, we've got some really basic problems to solve before we can even contest for that title...Violation of civil liberties #1.

2) On December 16th, 2012, while we were getting ready to celebrate a birthday in the family, news broke that a medical student had been brutally gang-raped in a moving bus in the capital, New Delhi. This incident became the icon of a massive public protest in cities across India. The police ultimately used water cannons and tear gas to disperse peaceful protesters in New Delhi - protesters who had every right to demand a safe home, a safe country and justice against a system that had overwhelmingly failed them. Committees were made, panels were appointed and finally, the law was amended. Long story short, the public outcry forced the government to take notice and act - something governments are extremely reluctant to do. After being flown to Singapore for further treatment, India's collective heart broke when Nirbhaya (fearless, as the rape victim had come to be known), succumbed to her injuries on December 29th, 2012. Jyoti Singh (her real name) came from a modest family. In a society where girls are often looked upon as a expense sheet, her parents sold their ancestral land to pay her college fees so she could fulfill her dream of becoming a doctor. 

I won't go into details of what happened the night she was raped because you'll find that out if you search for 'Nirbhaya rape' on Google. 

Jyoti's rape and her subsequent passing forced not just India, but the world, to introspect. A BBC Storyville team filmed a documentary aimed at showcasing the rapist's mindset - which, by the way, is a mindset shared by many. Some activists were upset that the film crew gave one of the rapists an international platform because, I assume, they felt he didn't deserve this much attention for such a heinous crime. My question to the Government of India is - How do you expect to understand the psychology of a rapist/criminal if you don't actually know what they were thinking and why they did what they did? That is Problem Solving 101!

Five men and a 17-year-old boy were arrested for Jyoti's rape and murder. Of the five, one died while he was in Tihar Jail in New Delhi - supposedly a case of suicide. The deceased accused's brother is the primary source interviewed in the documentary titled, 'India's Daughter'. This primary source, Mukesh, told the filmmakers that they rapists did what they did because they believed they were teaching Jyoti and her male friend a lesson - teaching them that if you stay out late (8 p.m.), bad things will happen to you. The shocking part is not even Mukesh's statement. The two lawyers hired to defend the accused rapists express views that can stun one into petrified silence. One of them referred to women as 'precious flowers', 'diamonds' or 'food' put out on the street.

"It is up to you how you want to keep that diamond in your hand," defense lawyer M.L.Sharma said. "If you put your diamond out on the street, certainly the dog will take it out. You can't stop it. You are talking (of a man and woman) as friends. Sorry, that doesn't have any place in our society. A woman means, I immediately put the sex in his eyes (sic.)."

"We have the best culture," he said, "in our culture, there is no place for a woman."

Over the last two days, the Indian government has violated yet another civil right. Members of Parliament were shown the documentary yesterday to vote on whether it is fit for public release or not. Despite strong comments in support of its release, the overall majority ruled against releasing the film. For whatever reason, the Government of India is under the false impression that this film would taint its 'image'. I think that's already been achieved. 

The government, on March 4th, registered FIRs (First Information Reports) invoking IPC (Indian Penal Code) sections on 'outraging a woman's modesty' and 'insult to provoke breach of peace'. Apparently, the brutal, gruesome rape of a student whose intestines were pulled out of her vagina before she was thrown out of a moving bus onto a highway, wasn't enough to 'outrage' her 'modesty'.

Dear Government of India, do you seriously not realize that her modesty has/had already been outraged? A film that shows what men in India think of women and their role in society should be made mandatory viewing for all girls and women in this country. Brushing this very real problem in our society under the rug is not going to make it magically go away. I genuinely, from the very bottom of my heart, hope that you understand that. And as a woman living in India who has to look over her shoulder in grocery lines, at railway platforms, at traffic signals, bus stops and movie theaters, I strongly resent the sentiment that not talking about something makes the topic non-existent. 

We have a very real and very serious problem and we need to accept it and deal with it. No carpet is going to be big enough for us to hide all our dirty linen under. It's high time you recognize that, Government of India. As a new government in power at the Center, you could have led by example by allowing a country-wide release and screening of this documentary. Women would have felt you stand with them - in addressing this hideous problem - instead of against them. We would have felt you understand, that we stand in solidarity against a toxic social mindset that urgently needs to change. Instead of showing us you care, you showed us we don't matter. Our modesty would have in no way been outraged by the release of a film that would have made men like you shudder and question your own beliefs.

I'm sorry to have to point out the obvious, Government of India, but your actions are the 'insult to provoke breach of peace'. What you have done won't go down well with those that care about preserving the sanctity of a democracy, the sanctity of a safe home for all. Your actions are the insult you add to injury, and our reactions are (still, even today) a peaceful breach of peace if you will - a state of peace you think exists. There is no peace. No woman in this country is ever at peace. Without this mythical 'peace', what's there to breach? Trust. Dear Government of India, you've breached our trust through your inability to think straight, lead by example, and strive to create a safe haven for all. 

So dear doctor, tell me that all this doesn't worry you to your very core. Tell me you don't feel the undercurrents of an impending revolution. Tell me you don't fear the consequences of speaking the truth in a pseudo-democratic country. Tell me that underneath the superficial shell of confidence and progress exuded by our current Prime Minister, Mr. Narendra Modi, you are not aware of the many, many problems plaguing our society. Now, tell me doc, what are you so worried about?

In my mind, I see 21st Century freedom fighters in India's youth...well, at least the aware, responsible and involved youth. I see a Bhagat Singh speaking out about violence against women, I see a Rajguru secretly filming a top politician accepting a bribe, I see a Sukhdev in the form of a college student standing in line for hours after painstakingly filling out paperwork so he can exercise his right to vote and bring about change. I see a Rani Lakshmibai in every girl who insists on going to school despite opposition from her own family. Every girl who braves the threat of acid attacks and rape to challenge society's patriarchy, in single mothers who have been cast away because they gave birth to a baby girl and not a baby boy. 

The only way to ensure that the people we elect don't forget we're the ones that put them there is to hold and keep them accountable for their decisions. Even if on paper, we are still a democracy and each of us still has rights. Inquilab Zindabad.

#girlsbeforecows - It's only fair.

Update: At the time of publishing this post, the Government of India has sent a legal notice to the BBC. 

DAH 301 to the Washington-Grizzly Stadium: start to finish of graduate school.

I was 22 when I walked those six blocks to get to the Don Anderson Hall, room 301. School wasn't in session yet. It was that orientation week for new students and boy, did we need it. Fresh out of mother India, I was prepared to take this head on. Even so, not once did it strike me that on the very first day of orientation, we would have to venture out on a strange campus, find and interview strange people for our very first assignment. No rose petals, no bushes to beat around. They had come straight to the point. My life as a journalism graduate student had begun the moment I walked into that building.

For the two years that followed, "that" building took multiple forms - home, hideout, rescue center and therapy clinic among others. It was four floors of absolute madness. A madness that I now think was too short-lived.

In these last two years, I have probably learned more than I ever did before and not just in academic terms. I have never lived alone even though my personality isn't one to press the panic button, it was quite an experience. I had never lived in a place with less than a million people - for starters. Pune, my hometown, caters to about eight million people. Missoula, has about 60,000 people - a statistic I don't believe but I have to give state's census figures some credit. I'd believe someone if they said Missoula has like 2000 people. For perspective, the entire state of Montana crossed the one million population mark only last year. So Pune has about eight times the number of people in all of Montana. Yup, exactly.

I had never lived in a place where it snows for six months (modest). I'll admit I thoroughly enjoyed the snow - until it got to my bones and froze the life out of me. I didn't go skiing or snow-boarding or snow-shoeing because I'm not very fond of making a complete fool out of myself. And if I must, I can do that on flat land. There's something that is so beautiful about snow that it makes you want to just stand in it, knee-deep, with your snow boots and parka on, and stare at it till your eyes dry out from the cold. I remember waking up one weekend last year, looking out the door. I felt my eyes widen and my jaw drop before I turned back, ran to get my camera and started clicking like mad as if it was all a dream that was going to go *poof* any second. That is the magic of snow. It makes a 22-year-old feel like a child inside.

The first year of graduate school was like military boot camp. Tough as hell. Long nights that spilled over into the next morning so often that I had lost the ability to keep track of day, date and time. There were no weekdays, no Mondays or Thursdays or even Saturdays. It was all just one big mass, a continual time loop where everyday was a working day and there were no holidays. Oh, holidays! The ones we did have, like winter break or spring break, were more frustrating than regular days. Three times the usual work load with at least two final papers or mid-terms due at the end. I have never felt so fluctuated in my life. Yes, that's actually a physical state of being - you'll know when you're here.

Of all the classes I took, there is only one that I wish I could somehow crumple up like waste paper and throw it out of sight. Ok, I hated it. You would too if you put an obscene amount of work into something that wasn't even your major and should have been way easier than the other PhD level course you had to get through. Oh, and if after all that jazz, you got a big dull dud of a D on it. Yuck.

I will say though, that my other classes were absolutely fantastic. To be very honest, this is the first time since being in school that I have enjoyed putting myself through physical, emotional and mental conditions that were never probably never meant for human beings. Ok, I am exaggerating it - only a tad. It has been a sweet pain. I hated papers and assignments when they would actually be due but it would be weird if I didn't. The learning experience, the opportunities to have healthy group discussions, the intellectual challenges and moreover, the people - have surpassed every expectation I could have had.

This second year has been more diverse and cooler than boot camp year. Fewer credits sure helped. Having the thesis to do did not. That's balance for you. But I had a lot more going on this year. Diversity groups, international student groups, activities, lectures, presentations, interviews, dinners, festivals, the whole shebang. A lot more spice and flavor to life this year - embedded in memory for years to come.

I'd say we have all come a long way - all of us journalism grads. - since day 1. From 2am huddles to piece a story together to walking up to a stage dressed in black gowns and caps to get our awesome (did you see the others?!) hoods from our committee chairs. All of us, with our different personalities, our different 'zing' elements, are going to go out there and make those four floors proud.

First semester Master's project proposals saw scores of transformations this year and we all came into our own. Heading out to report with all the gear, finding sources, interviews, more interviews, hours and hours of tape, piecing the story, writing up a rough outline and then - close to ten drafts of a final project that we stood up and publicly defended - successfully defended.

What a process this has been! Moreover, what a month this has been. I don't care very much for birthdays but I will say this one has been spectacular.

Thesis defense, graduation, turning 24 on a snow-covered lake-front surrounded with Montana's marvelous wilderness in the company of family. Perfect? I'd love to say yes but we all know that would be untrue.

And now, with two whole years of memories and learning behind me, I stare at a "Stop" sign on the corner of a street as the background changes from bright blue sunny skies to thick grey rain clouds within minutes.
Cars go by in either direction. Birds go about their usual business. The sun tries to peep through the clouds creating an aura of heavenly light. And me? I sit and draw out plans for my future, periodically glancing sideways at the "Stop" sign.

A sign to literally stop, look left and right, wait for traffic to pass and then enter your lane of choice carefully. Pretty much what I have to do from here on. No more school. No more classes or deadline assignments or thesis drafts or dangerously high doses of coffee.

Given current market situations and general circumstances - finding a decent job is going to be nothing short of a Himalayan expedition with limited oxygen supplies and deathly cliffs and crevices that one must avoid falling off/into.

I embarked on this expedition almost exactly 10 days ago when my identity changed from being a "Master's STUDENT in environmental journalism" to a 'Journalist'. The moment when all candidates for Master's degrees stood up as the President of the University of Montana verbally conferred our degrees on us has gone down in my history. The history of who I am. And as Jim Messina so efficiently put it that rainy morning in the Washington-Grizzly Stadium, it's always about moving "on to the next".

On to the next it is. The 'student' bids adieu as the 'journalist' emerges to stretch her wings and take flight.

Thank you to the unforgettable people who have made these two years the most memorable years of my life - you know who you are and you know you have a loyal friend, student, community member and peer in me all because you have been so darned awesome. Big shout out to y'all. My credentials may have changed but I'm still me. And we will always be 'we'.

Go Griz! (We know tributes are incomplete without serious acknowledgment of the school mascot, especially because I'm sitting in bobcat country as I write this!) ;)

Tera Rang Aisa Chadh Gaya, Koi Aur Rang Na Chadh Sakey…

He came, he inspired, and he conquered. This summer Aamir Khan forced India to cancel all Sunday morning appointments. Generations across the country, across the world, sat glued to their television sets or their computers to find out what else is wrong with India.

In 13 episodes, Aamir Khan initiated, established and supported a movement – a movement for change – change that India and Indians had been wanting for years. He appeared on our screens and spoke to us in impeccable Hindi [and several regional languages], bringing a new issue, a new problem and a new solution to us every Sunday.

A flood of sentiments, arguments, opinions, donations, questions, monumental praise and even criticism followed every episode. India was on its feet. Her citizens were thinking, making choices, taking decisions, and waking up. Or were they?

I waited to watch the last episode depicting Satyamev Jayate’s journey so far. I waited till an hour ago. It was telecast on August 15^th, 2012 in India – the day I flew out of the country to make my way back to a remote corner of the USA.

TIME magazine featured Khan on their cover with a caption asking readers whether an actor can change a nation.

If TIME magazine had watched even one of the 13 episodes, or looked closely at their own cover photo, they probably could have seen the underlying truth. Aamir Khan is not ‘an actor’. He’s an Indian. An Indian looking to create, build, and leave behind a better India for generations to come. I don’t think anyone is that good an actor. Good enough to pull off something like Satyamev Jayate and actively, personally follow up on every issue to see it to its destination.

His eyes give him away. They are brimming with grit and determination to make things happen, to make the right things happen. His gaze holds your eyes, draws you into the episode with him, makes you weep as he wipes his tears away, and infuriates you as you learn of new atrocities. No actor can do that. Only an Indian who, in every drop of his blood, loves and feels his country can. He can. He did.

So did several before him. Shaheed Bhagat Singh, Lokmanya Tilak, Babasaheb Ambedkar, even Mahatma Gandhi invoked this level of emotion in Indians the world over. So why is he different?

Because he is not advocating radicalism or leaning towards the Left or Right. He’s standing up for reality and advocating humanity, responsibility, and practicality. His ‘fans’ aren’t extremists or non-violence practitioners. His followers are the common people who experience these issues every day and have kept quiet for years thinking no one cared, and that nothing could be done either way.

Question is, why did we need an Aamir Khan to stand up and say he would do this? Why hadn’t we done something about either of these issues ourselves? Or do we always look to Hindi cinema for solutions? We let Shah Rukh Khan teach us romance, and we wait for Aamir to debut on television to mobilize ourselves. Why?

Does it not sting you somewhere deep inside that you’re asking for a Satyamev Jayate Season 2? Is it, on some level, not embarrassing that we’d need a second season?

Is it only Aamir Khan’s moral responsibility to mobilize the country every time it falls asleep or begins to doze off? Why do we always wait till the last minute, wait for a wake-up call? Purely and simply as legal citizens of India, we are required to follow the law. Everyone from our country’s premier, politicians, lawyers, doctors, engineers, scientists, painters, plumbers, tailors, actors, students, housewives, is required to dutifully and honestly fulfil their individual responsibility as laid out in the Constitution of India.

We lived under foreign rule for centuries. For 65 years, we have had the legal freedom to be responsible for our own country, our own lives. Somewhere down that road, we became complacent, materialistic and insensitive. Six and a half decades down the road, do we still find it impossible to initiate problem-solving techniques ourselves and do we still feel the need for a constant wake-up call or reminder to tell us to do our job better?

I find it hard to be saying and asking all these things because: a) I have no idea if anyone is ever going to read this, b) I’m actually a staunch supporter of the sheer spirit and élan with which Aamir Khan went about creating and executing Satyamev Jayate, and c) It’s 1:28am and I haven’t slept in a long, long time so thinking objectively and clearly kind of becomes difficult.

Despite the severe sleep deprivation, I wonder why people of India continue to flood Satyamev Jayate’s pages with requests of a second season. Maybe 12 heart-breaking episodes and windows into reality weren’t enough to rattle them out of their seats and get them moving, for good.

It makes patriotism look like a battery-powered emotion that runs out when you overuse it in a short period of time. Then it needs to be recharged or needs a ‘second season’ of batteries to get going again. Is this why we became independent?

It took us 65 years to discuss female foeticide, child sexual abuse, domestic violence etc. on a national, public platform. Do we want to wait another 65 to discuss the next dozen issues?

If India wants to change, and I believe in my heart that it does, then why can’t we change without requesting a nudge at regular intervals? Are we not all Aamir Khans? Aren’t we all the trustees and beneficiaries of our own country? 

From 40°C to -40°C: Montana, A home away from home

I’ve lived in Montana, USA for exactly 5 months and 1 week now. It has been nothing short of an adventure all the way- settling in, getting used to driving on the wrong side of the road and the wrong side of the car, wearing 4 layers of clothes to avoid freezing to death, learning how to cook the weirdest stuff to stay alive when time is short, learning how to cook in general, getting used to waking up on my own without mom calling out every 5mins., talking to photos of Ginny [the best dog in the world] because she isn’t here in person to talk to, doubting my memory and writing down every little thing and ending up with 15 “to-do” lists stuck to the walls, moving into ‘my own house’ and setting it up, exploring campus and whatever part of Missoula I managed to walk through during Fall, and most importantly, making new friends.

Moving to Missoula, MT. from Pune, has been the weirdest, bravest, and most sensible thing I have done in a long time. There aren’t as many colours here, not to mention, the number of people [or the sheer absence of people] is the one thing that can make you love and hate this place. There are times when I’ve pulled out my hair because there are no people here, everything closes at 8pm or if it’s a really cool place, 9pm. By that theory, The Pita Pit must be the coolest place ever because it’s open till 3am. And I complained about the ‘night-life’ in Pune. Learned my lesson. Be grateful for what you have, when you have it, before you have to move to Missoula.

People back home went all out to convince me that I was going to regret not knowing how to cook Indian food. Well, news flash folks, I’m not regretting anything. I stand by what I said- I will adapt. I honestly don’t care if I’m eating Mexican or Ethiopian or Chinese or Punjabi food. There is no way in hell that you can survive in any part of Montana if you’re an ‘I don’t need adaptation. I am set in my ways’ person.  

Living in Montana has made me appreciate India in an all-new manner. I would have never seen home the way I do today had it not been for these last 5 months and 7 days. I’m not saying I now have this pretty rosy image of India; if anything, my perspective has become more grounded in reality and my eyes have learned to see what I was unable to, or didn’t want to see before. Sometimes you cannot see beyond grassland habitat or dry-deciduous forests so you’re used to spotting Tigers in Ranthambhore or Bandhavgarh but not in Siberia’s snowy mountains. Then, when you move to the snowy mountains, you adapt. Your vision adapts with you. So you never know what you’re capable of until you actually attempt something new. And if you’re afraid of every new thing that comes your way, you’ll never learn. You’ll never move ahead. And stagnation is something I am not cool with.

I don’t like not having even one Sun-ray in an entire day but yes, snow is the prettiest white thing I have ever seen. It’s dark outside till 8:30am, sometimes, 9:30am and then it’s dark by 4pm. I still find that outrageous. But I have never had a more intense learning period in my life. I had no idea I could do the things I am managing to do every day for the last 5 months until I actually got here. I had no idea I would love journalism this much. I had no idea I would hate being referred to as a scientist someday.

When you move to a different continent, and that too, to one of the most remote corner it can have, you are forced to look back at your life and then look at your present in such a way that it alters almost every inch of your idea of your future. This time away from home helps you understand what really matters to YOU and why. It helps put things in a practical perspective and rather unexpectedly, it helps you realize that you are actually capable of being a lot busier in life than you have been thus far and that scares you a little bit. But like I’ve said before, being overworked is loads better than being out of work, particularly if you’re one of those people who loves what they do.

So no matter how hard it is to be living so far away from home, to be away from Indian wilderness for almost a year, the trick it keep in mind that the struggle is what will get me where I belong; that the only way out, is forward; and that when I leave Missoula for good, I will BE a journalist, I will be taking with me, tonnes of memories, good times, bad times, particularly tough times, and the confidence-knowledge-skill combination that will equip me to battle whatever the world throws at me.

And while I’m at it, here’s what Missoula looks like. 

[CLICK ON IMAGE TO ENLARGE]