tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-65566228443420266352024-02-19T16:18:32.389+05:30I am what I amPooja Sodhihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17843342068663682401noreply@blogger.comBlogger37125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6556622844342026635.post-34314655086234558732016-12-05T16:12:00.002+05:302016-12-05T16:16:17.221+05:30Cashing onto Gold!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-small;">So the Finance Minister at a function last week commented that with the kind of <br />
population India has there are bound to be queues.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-small;"></span> </div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-small;">And I have been patiently waiting for the chaos and queues to get shorter at the banks before venturing to deposit and exchange my savings in Rs 1000 and 500 notes. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-small;">Each day brings a new rule, revised deadlines to use old notes, advisory on which old notes can be used where, exchange limit reduction to no exchange allowed. This roller-coaster ride of keeping abreast with new announcements further created an inertia till the next fear that may be Dec 30 deadline could also be rolled back.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-small;">So was it prudent to wait patiently for the queue to get shorter and not add to the ensuing chaos - have I not turned out to be the loser by choosing not to stand in 4 hr long queues and giving other more needy people the chance to manage their monies?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-small;"></span> </div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-small;">While the general public has lauded this path-breaking effort to remove the black money from the economy in one sweep, my only question to government and central bank is how will they ensure in the future that no black money gets accumulated? How to have faith in the system when one hears about crores of money being found in raids in new notes? When one hears stories of suitcases and sacks full of money being exchanged by bank managers from the back gates while common man patiently waits for money at the official doors of the branches.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-small;"></span> </div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-small;">While this move pushes the cash-dominated population to open bank accounts, help takes the country one step forward towards cashless economy, we still need to be able to withdraw monies as and when required - and this remains a challenge even almost a month after the mega announcement. ATMs still do not have cash, even when it is replinished it gets over in less than 15 mins. Banks are still struggling to arrange for cash and in spite of salaries being credited there is still no money in physical wallets. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-small;">The most hard-pressed are the low income strata who saved only in form of cash at home, they get salaries in cash - and then see it wipe out overnight with no monies to buy even food. And in these circumstances one hears instances where businessmen have paid salaries and advances in old currency to their workers thereby converting black into white. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-small;"></span> </div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-small;">And while the country is still coming to terms with dealing with lesser cash to meet day-to-day expenses, there comes a Gold regulation - a married woman to only have 500 gms of gold and an unmarried one allowed only 250 gms. And how does government propose to implement this with people who have bought hordes of gold by black money? And how to weed out genuine legally acquired gold by savings with common man vs gold acquired through bribes and other under-hand means? </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-small;">Or this good intention measure also would result in poor execution with common man facing the pain while the rich and corrupt continuing to sit on their hordes?</span></div>
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Pooja Sodhihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17843342068663682401noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6556622844342026635.post-67232638544077978462016-12-01T14:41:00.000+05:302016-12-01T14:41:37.501+05:30Adieu<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">In the last few months I have had to say Goodbye to two homes I have ever lived in my life time.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">One was a home I was brought to after I was born, my parents got that official accommodation from Banaras Hindu University just a few months before I was born. That's the garden of the home where I learnt walking, learnt to climb stairs, saw the world go by from the window upstairs. That's the home where we celebrated successes of family or shared grief over loss of dear ones or a bad news. That's the home that saw me step out for the very 1st job and that's the home I said Goodbye this last weekend for forever. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">In between a short life and a rented accommodation in Mumbai happened which could never become a home. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">And then moving to Delhi albeit in another rented accommodation where I spent a dozen odd years - it was also meant to be a short stay which lingered on and on. A place that saw me grow professionally with a few troughs in between. It was a place where I learnt about me, realise my real worth, helped me develop and define my interests and in turn, made me what I am. A place that slowly became a second home away from home. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Saying goodbye is never easy, and ultimately the chaos of winding up and closing the houses ensured that there was no time to get sentimental. The buzz of activity overshadowed the process of feeling the emotions. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">And it is time to make another house a new home. Make new memories while carrying the old ones with me in my heart as they continue to define</span> me!</div>
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Pooja Sodhihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17843342068663682401noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6556622844342026635.post-907655429027983742016-10-02T22:56:00.001+05:302016-10-02T23:13:43.878+05:30VIPism<p dir="ltr">One or the other channels on television always show the Richard Attenborough's iconic film Gandhi on 2nd October. Every time I watch the film, I discover a new nuance - sometimes a quote, other times cinematography in the scene of a film or a new story.</p>
<p dir="ltr">There is a scene at the railway station at Champaran village when Gandhi alights from the train. As the British officer watched the huge gathering from the top of a roof and made way towards him to enquire about him and his visit, his subordinate tried to make way for him through the crowd. One could hear statements like "raasta do", "saheb ke liye raasta chodo" in both language versions, and 70 years later, the practice still continues for its rulers - politicians, police officers, or any other person in the chair of any office or city or state or nation that he or she is commanding - Something and many other such practices that is quintessential Indian treatment <u>for</u> VIPs or probably we learnt this from Britishers.</p>
<p dir="ltr">On the birthday of Gandhi as well as of an another true Gandhian Lal Bahadur Shastri, while the TV channels were celebrating Swachh Bharat - another dire need of this country, it is also important to reacquaint all of us with the Gandhian principles - some of which still remain relevant today.</p>
Pooja Sodhihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17843342068663682401noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6556622844342026635.post-88590004053236317322016-08-15T18:57:00.001+05:302016-08-15T19:50:10.197+05:30Freedom @ 70<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbH8x9prcmT1Haz8Uf60n6Fxi967alHu4HJ5WkZkKVgKjGBrSQVTLxvUVFhUMLIE1_g35ZMh56VZDAkNnczvIZwd2MrzRXIY9XkSqA15az454hRr8AY-DAk0EyHEhjIyr22D7SXb6GeM4/s640/blogger-image--446328608.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbH8x9prcmT1Haz8Uf60n6Fxi967alHu4HJ5WkZkKVgKjGBrSQVTLxvUVFhUMLIE1_g35ZMh56VZDAkNnczvIZwd2MrzRXIY9XkSqA15az454hRr8AY-DAk0EyHEhjIyr22D7SXb6GeM4/s640/blogger-image--446328608.jpg"></a></div><br></span></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It is that time of the year when every second car has a tricolour fluttering; social media sports either people dressed up in tricolour or changing their display pic to flag pnemonics. It is the time when websites, newspapers rehash the old pics, list of patriotic songs and obviously Nehru's speech of "tryst with destiny". Powerful and goose-bumpy it was, the core of the speech "responsibility" towards "people of India" remains forgotten by their representatives. While people proudly stand up for the national anthem, the respect towards the flag and anthem seems to be diminishing. Why - those very flags after the eventful day are seen lying on the roads tattered or in the garbage dumps - when till a decade back, the common man had no right to hoist a flag. The responsibility to know the flag code of india is equally important as is the right to proudly hoist, display the tricolour. And every political party is in a race to own the kindred spirit and valiance of forgotten freedom fighters.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In the 69 years of Independence, while the nation has progressed towards 21st century, the core of the country probably still remains rooted in the erstwhile centuries. The abject poverty, access to clean drinking water, healthy food and clean houses with sanitation services, right to education still remains a dream. We see people living below the flyovers, on sides of the road - cooking in the steam of pollution emanating from our vehicles. When we travel by the train into the heartland, we pass by houses clothed in darkness as we go to sleep and looking for a place for morning ablutions as we wake up.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We see rage and hatred on the roads, in the families and on social media. We read about the threat and injustice to women in newspapers as they go on living their lives. While we gained freedom from Britain, we became slaves to corruption, greed and intolerance.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We want our houses to be clean but not our roads and localities. We want to be heard but not hear. We want the right to criticise but not to take responsibility. We want to be wealthy but not others around us. We want to be treated kindly but not treat others kindly. We want the right to follow our faith, but question other religions. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The preamble to Indian Constitution succinctly states the rights of people of India - justice, liberty, equality and fraternity - the very tenets for which war of Indian Independence was fought. And today, this remains a textbook reading, good to talk about but not to practice.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQEIkTBm9dr70f8C_Y63uWrhRsNT14RidAHttkpcsHCJjT6NydWLCl_8jWR-CSjN-aNAmDYL052CL7pgExZL6UfNoSCwD_g9EXwu4lOzkaH8mcu3P-KQdgKkANmLWKJHbJdqU0sL7vC4M/s640/blogger-image--68419574.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQEIkTBm9dr70f8C_Y63uWrhRsNT14RidAHttkpcsHCJjT6NydWLCl_8jWR-CSjN-aNAmDYL052CL7pgExZL6UfNoSCwD_g9EXwu4lOzkaH8mcu3P-KQdgKkANmLWKJHbJdqU0sL7vC4M/s640/blogger-image--68419574.jpg"></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I love the following lines by Rabindranath Tagore:</span></div>
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<i style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Where the mind is without fear and the head is held high</i></div>
<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;">
<i style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Where knowledge is free</i></div>
<i><div style="text-align: justify;">
<i style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Where the world has not been broken up into fragments</i></div>
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<i style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">By narrow domestic walls</i></div>
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<i style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Where words come out from the depth of truth</i></div>
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<i style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Where tireless striving stretches its arms towards perfection</i></div>
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<i style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Where the clear stream of reason has not lost its way</i></div>
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<i style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Into the dreary desert sand of dead habit</i></div>
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<i style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Where the mind is led forward by thee</i></div>
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<i style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Into ever-widening thought and action</i></div>
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<i style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Into that heaven of freedom, my Father, let my country awake.</i></div></i></span>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It is this dream and pledge that still remains to be fulfilled, and till then we truly cannot celebrate our Independence or freedom! I am proud to be Indian, but cannot call myself a proud Indian today!</span></div>
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Pooja Sodhihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17843342068663682401noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6556622844342026635.post-83117741538443628262016-08-14T13:52:00.001+05:302016-08-14T14:49:04.332+05:30Lost childhood<p dir="ltr">This monsoon season, while we have been spending more time on roads and traffic signals, it is unavoidable to observe life streaming about you. One sees people on motorcycles and bicycles going about on their work while trying to keep themselves dry, people in petrol-diesel guzzlers oblivious to rains while listening to loud electro-techno music blaring from their speakers. And then there are some who are engrossed in their own world of business or social media.</p>
<p dir="ltr">One also observes a small minority of hawkers peddling their wares at traffic signals - pirated books, cloth to clean your house or car, chargers for all kinds of phones, flowers and balloons. And come Independence Day or Republic Day, it's the tricolour in various sizes and forms that take the place of pride.</p>
<p dir="ltr">Then there is a knock, and you see a small child through the rain splattered window of AC cooled climes, completely soaked and bare feet requesting you to buy something from him so that he can buy food. Colourful balloons, roses or other flowers depending upon the season, sometimes books - the very things which are part of childhood to experience and not to sell. Sometimes, at certain intersections it is children showcasing their gymnast skills with goofily painted faces in their feeble attempt to entertain - all the while earning for their families. </p>
<p dir="ltr">You feel pity - it is so different from the childhood we all take granted for. In so many decades since Independence, with the Right to Education Act in place, it is disgusting that the a percentage of next generation lives on road trying to earn their living when they should be in schools and educating themselves for a better future. </p>
<p dir="ltr">Who is responsible for creating a better world for them?  The common man who lives in his own halo and vacuum of working for a still better life than these not-so-fortunate. The governments of state and centre elected who are apathetic to the life outside their own coterie of friends, colleagues and families. Or a small population of do-gooders who with their own monies or charity of friends, corporates and other NGOs trying to make a difference to the lives of such children. </p>
<p dir="ltr">Last evening, as I came out of a shop in the nearby market, I was beseeched by two small children - in bare feet and tattered clothes selling cheap pens. While I had no need for additional pens, I just couldn't walk past them to the comfort of home while they were on the road still selling to be able to buy food. I bought pens from both of them and passed them onto kids of hired help - from one child to another!</p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheDGXWlv_mSRVmU9glOZXYHgpujQtvRaCm2__iOYKj1ZQTGbS88R2pVqMewVvpItwmF2Mmin4RPmcwgFI5E_fe2tWY-fGmVmSV7cfEV5fNTAwkErDjBcJgVkyxBNShWNVBSdL5eA1B4pM/s1600/IMG-20160814-WA0015.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> <img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheDGXWlv_mSRVmU9glOZXYHgpujQtvRaCm2__iOYKj1ZQTGbS88R2pVqMewVvpItwmF2Mmin4RPmcwgFI5E_fe2tWY-fGmVmSV7cfEV5fNTAwkErDjBcJgVkyxBNShWNVBSdL5eA1B4pM/s640/IMG-20160814-WA0015.jpg"> </a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb0hQ9ljRwkc1rkydOhqhKDiS7JvIuwL1S1Z0mrTtv1MuEczRVPK_4CO5hedwxTGEwSjAHtwbi5UuhnkEzXr4YSPNn5WvDv1pgiBUioJWkUcNepU9bBNUPsrAwQtfvPLL4nZmN8WrUpN0/s1600/IMG-20160814-WA0016.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> <img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb0hQ9ljRwkc1rkydOhqhKDiS7JvIuwL1S1Z0mrTtv1MuEczRVPK_4CO5hedwxTGEwSjAHtwbi5UuhnkEzXr4YSPNn5WvDv1pgiBUioJWkUcNepU9bBNUPsrAwQtfvPLL4nZmN8WrUpN0/s640/IMG-20160814-WA0016.jpg"> </a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjptq-hEPmcpfaeFfbarpvhj3wq4vK_PWu6NEQnyXEdtmtCt65YAe8yGz7I54CbADAGozh3ZqhypHAacAi11ac3Tz83juJ1wXHhar7sIGC9_coYOkG-kJShLL4zORabV-oQSLZDoNHWvuU/s1600/IMG-20160814-WA0013.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> <img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjptq-hEPmcpfaeFfbarpvhj3wq4vK_PWu6NEQnyXEdtmtCt65YAe8yGz7I54CbADAGozh3ZqhypHAacAi11ac3Tz83juJ1wXHhar7sIGC9_coYOkG-kJShLL4zORabV-oQSLZDoNHWvuU/s640/IMG-20160814-WA0013.jpg"> </a> </div>Pooja Sodhihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17843342068663682401noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6556622844342026635.post-39662338509050761402016-03-26T11:51:00.001+05:302016-03-26T11:51:07.897+05:30Sounds of Summer<p dir="ltr">Sitting in the last vestiges of<br>
my childhood winter garden<br>
Sound of coo-woo reverberates around.</p>
<p dir="ltr">The cry of koel <br>
Reminds not only of Summers<br>
But also of examination season<br>
Of School and then College.</p>
<p dir="ltr">Of anxiety and trepidation<br>
Sometimes panic, <br>
That mind may go blank.</p>
<p dir="ltr">Was it fear of failure<br>
Or of moving up one step<br>
on the ladder of Life?<br>
That unexplainable feeling...<br>
When I look back today.<br>
</p>
Pooja Sodhihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17843342068663682401noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6556622844342026635.post-38243263648221294062016-03-24T18:35:00.001+05:302016-03-24T19:08:09.720+05:30Summer Song<p dir="ltr">The all too brief spell of Spring<br>
After the not too cold Winter, <br>
Gives way to the heat of Summers.</p>
<p dir="ltr">The dying flowers of winter<br>
And the Shalmali<br>
Spread their last burst of colours.</p>
<p dir="ltr">The brightening sunshine<br>
And the golden yellow of Amaltas <br>
The flaming red-orange of Gulmohar <br>
Herald the way to Summers.</p>
Pooja Sodhihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17843342068663682401noreply@blogger.com0Banaras Hindu University Campus, Banaras Hindu University Campus25.26853 82.99047tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6556622844342026635.post-67959677183817875192016-03-23T17:21:00.001+05:302016-03-24T14:28:42.004+05:30Festival of Colours <p dir="ltr">Colours of love and joy, not of hatred <br>
Colours of harmony, not of blood <br>
Colours of spring and summer <br>
Spread happiness in our lives. <br>
Happy Holi </p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3yNc24Wp5Giho-LKdmcUif8XIpki5BidRPJkavREtpFBL-472A36Vks6gARUdRUJjPVay8KyMufO_wL_OPGozOtmmt3PBK8LvClvXAeIMtreCazbWk2MivtVgTN9kk71kD9gkqv6b6UA/s1600/FB_IMG_1458644438273.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> <img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3yNc24Wp5Giho-LKdmcUif8XIpki5BidRPJkavREtpFBL-472A36Vks6gARUdRUJjPVay8KyMufO_wL_OPGozOtmmt3PBK8LvClvXAeIMtreCazbWk2MivtVgTN9kk71kD9gkqv6b6UA/s640/FB_IMG_1458644438273.jpg"> </a> </div>Pooja Sodhihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17843342068663682401noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6556622844342026635.post-84012675192579618592015-03-08T19:10:00.001+05:302015-03-08T19:52:06.748+05:30I am a Woman! <p dir="ltr">On International Women's Day, it is sad to see messages justifying the reason for being a woman.  Especially since in India <i>Devi</i> is worshipped in most corners of the country. As an <i>Adi-Shakti</i>, she epitomises the essence of <i>Shakti</i> herself, she represents consciousness, and she is the symbolism of <i>Prakriti. She is Ardhnari </i>without whom the male is void. </p>
<p dir="ltr">This is the country where girl child is worshipped as <i>Kanjika</i>, where various avatars of women are worshipped as conserver of forest, as the harbinger of wealth and knowledge, as the protector for natural calamities or epidemics, or as benevolent mother who protects all. </p>
<p dir="ltr">And today, the role and existence of women is being questioned. Are women only to be used as tools of recreation and procreation? Is our only duty is to manage household, children and sometimes contribute to family fund?</p>
<p dir="ltr">It is disheartening to open the newspaper in the morning and read of daily stories of torture. I have heard of similar such stories in my own home as well. </p>
<p dir="ltr">On this International Women's Day, can women/ girl-child of this country have the freedom and liberation from age-old notions of women hood? Can we freely roam around in our own country at any time of day? Can we fall in love and marry the person we want to? Can we freely speak our own mind without any inhibitions? Can we eat, drink or smoke without being labelled as something? Can we wear clothes we look good in, are comfortable in and not get stereotyped into some category?</p>
<p dir="ltr">I am a woman and am proud to be so. I don't need a special day to celerate my being. But on this Women's Day, I demand from my country to be treated as equal with men in all strata of society. </p>
<p dir="ltr">If this is feminism, let it be so, <br>
<u>Pooja</u></p>
Pooja Sodhihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17843342068663682401noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6556622844342026635.post-27158470783144571852015-01-01T21:21:00.001+05:302015-01-01T21:21:11.059+05:30I Wish...Peace, happiness and joy ... Simple wishes for 2015!<div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">I wish for all ...</span><div><br></div><div>For a tolerant world. Let's be compassionate.</div><div><br></div><div>For religious tolerance. Let religion be inclusive.</div><div><br></div><div>For safety of women. Against physical violence or mental harassment.</div><div><br></div><div>For cleaner environment. We owe it to us.</div><div><br></div><div>For terror free society. Irrespective of caste, creed, religion or gender.</div><div><br></div><div>For a better world and future this year.</div><div><br></div><div>With an eternal hope,</div><div>Pooja</div><div>January 1, 2015</div><div><br></div></div>Pooja Sodhihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17843342068663682401noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6556622844342026635.post-75724651089092152182014-12-16T07:57:00.001+05:302014-12-17T11:01:37.821+05:30Lucky 13!<p class="s4" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 12px; text-align: justify;"></p><div style="text-align: start;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span class="s5">13 years and a long journey ... An address book with 1500 plus names, some acquaintances, some crossing that invisible line to become friends. Adding to the ever expanding encyclopedia of mind and heart, creating new memories on the way! </span></span></div><div style="text-align: start;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span class="s18" style="font-style: italic;"><br></span></span></div><div style="text-align: start;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span class="s18" style="font-style: italic;">Ships that pass in the night, and speak each other in passing...</span></span></div><div style="text-align: start;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span class="s18" style="font-style: italic;">So on the ocean of life, we pass and speak one another....</span></span></div><div style="text-align: start;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span class="s18" style="font-style: italic;"><br></span></span></div><div style="text-align: start;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">Today marks the anniversary of the journey that I started 13 years ago - from Banaras to Bombay and I complete a full circle sitting in Mumbai today facing the vast Arabian Sea from the hotel window. </span></div><div style="text-align: start;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5sDNTBfAFVJUvUZ-WPHCfgO4pc9kyMqTQyLv9To67US61gDZGx6eau9Y6DiRb8RJ_AymP1IvRhCGun0pjvry-_qTuoJOtI0TDkO3aZ6TdHm0eP0Oh5kxOO_D3Y-zCwuSOdZuqn4J71Mc/s640/blogger-image--93630408.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5sDNTBfAFVJUvUZ-WPHCfgO4pc9kyMqTQyLv9To67US61gDZGx6eau9Y6DiRb8RJ_AymP1IvRhCGun0pjvry-_qTuoJOtI0TDkO3aZ6TdHm0eP0Oh5kxOO_D3Y-zCwuSOdZuqn4J71Mc/s640/blogger-image--93630408.jpg"></a></div><br></span></div><div style="text-align: start;"><br></div><div style="text-align: start;">It has been a rollercoaster ride, have had moments of fun as well as pain, have met some really wonderful people on this journey. </div><div style="text-align: start;"><br></div><div style="text-align: start;">Thank you Friends for your love, support, guidance as I continue walking,</div><div style="text-align: start;">Pooja</div><div style="text-align: start;">December 17, 2014</div>Pooja Sodhihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17843342068663682401noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6556622844342026635.post-2705477390326636122014-09-06T00:10:00.001+05:302014-09-06T13:09:04.081+05:30To Teachers, With Love!My first memory of a teacher is of my Grandmother, when I was not even 3 yrs old. She was the one who taught me alphabets, numbers and colours. Whilst some of the memories have faded away, what I do remember is that when I went for my nursery admission interview, I already knew alphabets, and could write my name. And that teaching was done, staring out of a first floor window, facing the street, watching the world, or rather the traffic, go by. That was my favourite place. It was the days when <i>ikka </i>or <i>tonga </i>used to ply passengers, there were bicycles, few scooters, fewer buses and almost no cars. There was no brown colour in my vocabulary, so it was white horses or red horses. The <i>matras</i> in Hindi alphabets either faced right or left, I had by then mastered right and left directions. Lot of it was taught while having food, she feeding me, I throwing the spoons down the window to the grounds. She was my first teacher, and she had loads of patience. <div><br></div><div>However, once the school started, my mother took over the responsibility of making sure homework was completed every day. And I think we both learnt together ... I, the course and she, the patience. (She would need many more chapters to do due justice to what she means to me in my life.) Moving to higher classes, my father mentioned lot of times of teaching me himself, but except for few sessions, chapters of science, it really didn't happen. He however made sure he taught me bicycling starting from trainer ones, to two wheels child cycle to a fully grown up cycle. In later years, even the scooty. And I learnt from him to stand up for the truth always, and not give up even in adverse circumstances!</div><div><br></div><div>The transition from primary to secondary school brought a new teacher in my life ... My masi. She taught me English, Hindi, Social Sciences, Maths and even Sanskrit. Looking back, I wonder she knew so much, I think I would not be able to attempt to teach even one subject to anyone. And lot of discussions and revisions happened while waiting for the school bus in the morning. She is the only one who also taught me formally at college, when I had Geography as one of my subjects. It was a very different and difficult to be present in the class knowing her so intimately and yet remaining aloof. We managed the two years by she not calling my name out any time during the class except for the roll call. And she stayed away from the examination and evaluation process for the two years I had Geography as the subject.</div><div><br></div><div>Moving back to secondary school, I had met lot of teachers who knew either my mother or my masi, 35 plus years of teaching in the same city does that to its residents. Many of them continued to excel in their subjects and had an impact on me. I remember them with fondness today on Teachers' day! </div><div><br></div><div>One of the teachers who I can never forget was my English teacher in probably class 8 or 9, and that too for a short period. She used to only take higher classes, and took few classes with us as substitute teacher for absent ones. My love and interest for the subject came because of her. Being taught almost my whole school life in government schools, English was not the medium of choice. I could have learnt English at home, the language being my mother tongue ... My mother is convent educated by English nuns and is a English professor 😉... But it didn't happen. Call it fate or destiny, I picked up English speaking because of her; painstakingly reading newspapers, forcing myself to think in the language rather than translating before speaking, writing as I was thinking instead of learning it by heart. And by the time, I finished Class 10 and changed schools, I was proficiently speaking, talking, writing, walking English! </div><div><br></div><div>Class 10th in my times, was generally torturous, primarily because of hype and pressure surrounding it. Two of my weakest subjects in the class were Economics and Maths. While I was glad to say goodbye to maths after Boards, Economics followed me till MBA, including two of my major degrees in the subject, I don't joke when I say I mastered Economics! My support system to take me through these two subjects in these terrible times was my two mamajis. My elder mamaji was an Economics professor and had written simple books in Hindi on the subject which were lot easier to undertstand than the language the teachers spoke. And while my Maths teacher helped me quite a lot, the credit for my first class in the subject in Class 10 goes to my other mamaji. I don't remember the circumstances of why he was in Banaras that time, but he made me revise the whole course before the Board exams in a very simple way. My grandmother was amazed that at no time, he raised either his voice or temper while explaining the concepts to me. She remembered him taking a very different route with his children in their times! I guess the only time I enjoyed the subject in my life was in those 15 days with him. </div><div><br></div><div>The graduation years was equally difficult, I knew almost all the teachers because my mother and my masi taught in the same college. It was difficult to bunk classes, the information would eventually flow down to them. And there was no chance to sit around with classmates and gossip about teachers or the college either. I guess compared to others around me, my college life was pretty boring. </div><div><br></div><div>And so was post- graduation, being in the same campus, there was no escaping the fact that there was a line to be toed since your teachers were colleagues to your parents, and there was a reputation to mange and hold. However, there have been few teachers who have contributed to what I am today, have been responsible for my education and my beliefs. Thank you. </div><div><br></div><div>In the last 13 years of my career and 3 and half decades of my life, I have had many bosses, colleagues and some friends. Some were completely forgettable, erasable; some have lingered on the memories - bitter-sweet experiences; for some I have loads of respect and some have become close friends and confidants. All of you have made difference to my life in some way or other, taught me some of life's lessons, have been responsible in making me what I am today ... My good and bad sides combined. </div><div><br></div><div>So on this day, Happy Teachers' Day to the first teachers of my life, my grandmother, my parents, my masi and to all those who have crossed my path in their various avatars and with whom I continue my learning journey.</div><div><br></div><div>In gratitude,</div><div>Pooja</div><div>September 5, 2014</div>Pooja Sodhihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17843342068663682401noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6556622844342026635.post-53689738301256290572014-07-31T23:11:00.001+05:302014-07-31T23:11:04.833+05:30NH8 woes or wonders?NH8 or Delhi-Gurgaon highway for non-dilliwallahs can be a nightmare for daily commuters most of the times, but sometimes, it is a pleasure to drive down on it. Leaving office post 8pm today, the highway was almost a zip through for a change.<div>With Delhi airport sprawling through a large portion of the highway, and the resultant absence of high-rises on both sides of the road; I have catched quite a few beautiful sunsets on this stretch. It's a beautiful sight, where the runway is almost touching the highway, and an airplane landing on it against the backdrop of setting sun in the evenings. Inspite of so many air travels, it is still a fascination to see the planes landing and taking-off. </div><div>At a point on this stretch, where the highway curves, the feeling is almost like cruising through the Marine Drive, with the whole expanse of lighted airport on one side and other surrounding areas and the halogen street lamps framing the other side of the road. I can sense some smirks from Mumbaiwallahs on my timeline 😉 ... </div><div>And <span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">at the end of a tiring Thursday, the respite in the day was a meeting away from office over a decently brewed cup of Darjeeling tea, a time-out from the mundane office environment. </span></div><div><br></div><div>Thankful for a tolerable day,</div><div>Pooja</div><div>July 31, 2014</div>Pooja Sodhihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17843342068663682401noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6556622844342026635.post-3980164944240342702014-07-29T21:55:00.001+05:302014-07-29T22:18:20.314+05:30Celebrating Eid... My way!As I promised myself yesterday, I am back! And keeping another promise to self, had a lazy day ... Well almost, apart from couple of calls, few emails and some whatsapp messages with other people who were sadly working!<div>I had music on my mind, and as I rummaged in the shelf found a 1960 Akashvani recording of Bade Ghulam Ali Khan Saheb which included thumri and kajri. I didn't even remember buying it! Few days back, I had attended a concert where I had a chance to listen to some Banarasi music and I wanted more of it. It was a perfect weather to listen to a rare old recording. </div><div>Rummaging further, I found CDs gifted by a dear friend while he was moving houses, and next on the line was listening to Ustad Amir Khan, followed by Pt Jasraj. </div><div>A <i>sukun</i> walk in the park, watching the airplanes fly by ready for landing, promise of rain in the cloudy skies above to end the day.</div><div>While I missed seviyan today, wishing that I had a foresight to buy some and make it at home, and remembering that special day when I started my professional life, I pray and thank God for the journey since. </div><div>And looking forward to the festival season in India, <i>Eid</i> starts the celebrations and <i>rakhi</i>, <i>janmashtami</i> and Independence Day in the next fortnight, festivities and fun will continue. And so I hope my musings!</div><div><br></div><div>Pooja</div><div>July 29, 2014</div>Pooja Sodhihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17843342068663682401noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6556622844342026635.post-22278920832804728822014-07-28T21:57:00.001+05:302014-07-28T22:01:00.115+05:30To A Perfect Life...Small, simple things in life around can give pleasure, make the day little easy, only if you can spot and feel them around you. While I occasionally do practice this thought, this note today is thanks to a friend, who has challenged all for a 5 day challenge, 3 things a day. However, am making my own rules, will try to do one thing a day, for as long as I can. Simply put, I am sure there is atleast one good thing that I can be thankful for during the day!<div><br></div><div>So the manic Monday was not so, for a simple reason that Tuesday is a holiday; especially because for the last fortnight, I was thinking that Eid is not a holiday. May be the mind was not thinking of an almost mid-week off due to the deadlines that need to be met, racing against time. </div><div><br></div><div>Coming back home from work, while it drizzled and caused jams like always, I looked forward to a Mid-week off, having no plans for Eid, just relaxing at home. Sitting in front of the idiot box with the dinner, watching my favourite movie of all times, remembering the good, old childhood carefree days is the perfect way to end the day.</div><div><i><br></i></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><i>In small proportions we just beauties see;<br>And in short measures life may perfect be.</i></span></div><div><br></div><div>So here I am remembering My Favourite Things, listening to The Sound of Music and believing in myself that I Have Confidence in Me - exactly like 13 years ago, when I started my career on Eid day in Mumbai!</div><div><br></div><div>Eid Mubarak.</div><div>Pooja</div><div>July 28, 2014</div>Pooja Sodhihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17843342068663682401noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6556622844342026635.post-69427359441197075532014-02-09T12:50:00.001+05:302014-02-09T15:44:10.832+05:30Music for the Soul<div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Sunday morning... It is not easy to get up early, get ready and go out at 9am in the morning. I made the effort today!</span></div><div><br></div><div>After a cloudy, chilly and windy day yesterday, I was praying for a sunny Sunday. And it turned out to be a sunny, slightly windy but beautiful Spring morning. </div><div><br></div><div>A perfect day to listen to Ustad Amjad Ali Khan playing morning ragas in the open amphitheatre at India Habitat Centre. He started the recital by claiming that it is very rare for musicians to get a chance to play the morning ragas these days and he is happy to be here.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyyeCOsVG3SMH5TFZH2TZyz4Qxz30jTBPGBu5y-pJzZo1q8maG0QQed_mKlupMoIT207P2fbF8Yi7XVH7FOtp_D8ruO2g0FB7qLFzFJ21MrtAfEyaJOyajYAhm9_57ibHjwzfBQrBr4I8/s640/blogger-image--133552835.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyyeCOsVG3SMH5TFZH2TZyz4Qxz30jTBPGBu5y-pJzZo1q8maG0QQed_mKlupMoIT207P2fbF8Yi7XVH7FOtp_D8ruO2g0FB7qLFzFJ21MrtAfEyaJOyajYAhm9_57ibHjwzfBQrBr4I8/s640/blogger-image--133552835.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div>Ustadji went on to play for two hours, interspersing serious ragas with shorter playful ones. Sitting in the sun, with smell of marigold flowers pervading all round, I wished the day wouldn't end. </div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi26QKT9Wwxfc-u3XdEIlBntt4uVwGg4w9E10B3BLCVeUoe3Ak19fcxV2L6nOLRSs3mROAhW9HEGuiYHrlfZtJLprjheABt758KBEOl4Xzw8AOI9P1pXYkTyLXa33yNJ3RrafBXyLVJZi0/s640/blogger-image--886487089.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi26QKT9Wwxfc-u3XdEIlBntt4uVwGg4w9E10B3BLCVeUoe3Ak19fcxV2L6nOLRSs3mROAhW9HEGuiYHrlfZtJLprjheABt758KBEOl4Xzw8AOI9P1pXYkTyLXa33yNJ3RrafBXyLVJZi0/s640/blogger-image--886487089.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><br></div><div>I have somehow never had an opportunity to listen to Amjad Ali Khan live before. As a child I do remember listening to Sarod<font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">, Santoor and other classical instrumental music while studying. Music helped clear away other background noises, forcing me to focus on studying. Somewhere in the professional race against time, music got relegated to the back. </font></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">In the last few years, I have rediscovered music, I don't understand the science of music but love the sound, beats and generally, the language. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Khan Sahib </span><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">narrated a story of his father, wherein they were both playing and someone from audience remarked that they were still hungry for more. His father responded that if he is hungry, he should go and eat. Music is for the soul, for <i>ruh. </i>And how true it is ... This Sunday morning was truly music for the soul! </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfp7AvNeqUAuCynvtVBi9GMANvYrKmMb05PmIAltpCUK0qAXUjFuH7z4wEvvMBFPLGeezhIP9ZVKj8_F9H06Ti56yBU-Y4xXTwFfdTLuzgFivGxqq1rnB6_MDSGA8dbV52n92AiAsocOc/s640/blogger-image-366323222.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfp7AvNeqUAuCynvtVBi9GMANvYrKmMb05PmIAltpCUK0qAXUjFuH7z4wEvvMBFPLGeezhIP9ZVKj8_F9H06Ti56yBU-Y4xXTwFfdTLuzgFivGxqq1rnB6_MDSGA8dbV52n92AiAsocOc/s640/blogger-image-366323222.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif"><i>"If music be the food of love, play on."</i></font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">Pooja</font></div><div><font face="Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif">February 9, 2014</font></div><div><br></div>Pooja Sodhihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17843342068663682401noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6556622844342026635.post-44595790533688717712013-10-27T13:06:00.001+05:302013-10-27T14:38:27.365+05:30To the Eternal City ...I have made two trips within a fortnight to the world's oldest living city, Banaras. The city as usual inspires me, takes me back to the roots of Hinduism, but sometimes also disillusions me. On my last visit I landed on the Maha Ashtami during Navratras, and the whole city was doused in the religious fervour. Banaras is indeed a City of Temples, one can literally fina a temple in every corner - on every <i>nukkad </i>or <i>chauraha</i>, on the side of a road, below <i>peepul </i>trees, near a pond and of course, on the <i>ghats</i> of the Ganges ... in all sizes, of various deities. <div><br><div>While it is called <i>Shiv ki nagari</i>, people celebrate every festival, pray to all Gods... And as we travelled from airport to BHU, through the city, we saw all temples decked up with flowers and lights, offerings of fruits and sweets in their decorative patterns. Devotees thronged not only the <i>puja </i>pandals, but the temples nearby as well. </div><div><br></div><div>And while people went on going around celebrating and worshipping, one could not help observe the nonexistent roads, power through gensets, debris strewn across and the piled up garbage. <span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">The administration in its efforts to widen the roads had also razored parts of the bundling on the sides which had resulted in not only the debris but mud and slush. A good monsoon season and the non-stop rains post Phailin cyclone further exposed the crumbling infrastructure and administration of the city. </span><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Being one of the important destinations for not only Hindus, but also for Buddhists and Jainists - the town is a major tourist place. And the city plays host to plane loads of tourists every day post monsoon season. </span></div><div><br></div><div>It makes me wonder that the infrastructure in this ancient city must have been exemplary in the past to cater to tourists from all over the world. The city has been talked about by lot of travellers, poets and other historians. Infact, the city I remember from my childhood days was a lot cleaner, unpolluted and traveller friendly. </div></div><div><br></div><div>So who takes responsibility of making this city habitable for its residents as well as the visitors? In the election year, what promises will be made by the political parties and what will be delivered? Will the city ever gain back it's grandeur or will it perish in the years to come?</div><div><br></div><div>To Banaras...</div><div>Pooja</div>Pooja Sodhihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17843342068663682401noreply@blogger.com3Banaras Hindu University Campus Banaras Hindu University Campus25.275128 83.000959tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6556622844342026635.post-51733777748198457122013-10-02T10:29:00.001+05:302013-10-02T12:00:07.963+05:30Guha decodes GandhiTo many of us common man, whatever we know about Gandhi comes from what we read in school or what we saw in Richard Attenborough's film on Gandhi. And we leave it to historians and scholars to weave their way through the realms of biographies and writings on and by Gandhi, and present us with the finished portrait.<div><br></div><div>Ramchandra Guha's new book <i>Gandhi before India</i> has done precisely that albeit with a focus on deciphering Gandhi before he became <i>Mahatma</i>. A simple austere ceremony to release the book on the eve of Gandhi Jayanti itself symbolised the Gandhian way of life. A stage bereft of any decorations except a podium, small red carpet with two chairs and a table, Chiki Sarkar introduced the book and the author. The author then went to talk about his obsession with Gandhi, his plans for two more books on the subject given his voluminous research work.</div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyHbfO394hLkrOU_oumXMUNb95hcUSWS3bJqBgzRupLj_vnW-5jtvNRrNoo_JoRgl0a3_Z8m7RM4qNivLGgC9lys2gg409a095DaBfg-4F54llyS9RVlpWxhmDr8u-39NqDakWrwqJQNU/s640/blogger-image-1426766201.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyHbfO394hLkrOU_oumXMUNb95hcUSWS3bJqBgzRupLj_vnW-5jtvNRrNoo_JoRgl0a3_Z8m7RM4qNivLGgC9lys2gg409a095DaBfg-4F54llyS9RVlpWxhmDr8u-39NqDakWrwqJQNU/s640/blogger-image-1426766201.jpg"></a></div><br></div></div></div><div>Ram Guha talked about Gandhi as one who talks about oneself, as if he had observed Gandhi in action. He attempts to portray characters - family, friends and foes who influenced Gandhi to understand the making of the man inside. He peppered his talks with revelations on how Muhammad Ali Jinnah corresponded with Gandhi in 1897, 50 years before the partition of India. Would history would have been different if the two would have become legal partners? Or would Gandhi would have been a different man if South Africa hadn't happened to him?</div><div><br></div><div>As Guha cautions not to emulate Gandhi as a father or a husband, he believes that understanding of Gandhi's vision for modern, inclusive and tolerant India is still relevant for the change that we want to see in the world... </div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxxsZT0jpsy8ouMZEA347tamMCmIyTjb52gg5_oLFKMDdxVhkPsEVX4UgBDQCxDdmGHawpLjMStgKKb8BBsCXeB92dwC1pr1B4KGfBhY-OVHLEqvfXxUgGkztgdmQvsAR3EPVdKmaaXWA/s640/blogger-image--933695188.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxxsZT0jpsy8ouMZEA347tamMCmIyTjb52gg5_oLFKMDdxVhkPsEVX4UgBDQCxDdmGHawpLjMStgKKb8BBsCXeB92dwC1pr1B4KGfBhY-OVHLEqvfXxUgGkztgdmQvsAR3EPVdKmaaXWA/s640/blogger-image--933695188.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><br></div><div>Pooja</div><div>October 2, 2013</div>Pooja Sodhihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17843342068663682401noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6556622844342026635.post-70074578365764224702013-09-01T20:37:00.001+05:302013-09-01T22:01:45.382+05:30Does Satyagraha rocks?Prakash Jha's Satyagraha raises more questions than it answers. Power is corrupting, we know that. But even an iota of semblance of power seems to ruin the rational thinking. Channeling the minds and power of million people, and to control those levels of energy and passion itself requires a continued impartiality, time and again.<div><br></div><div>Media played this role effectively with the Jessica Lal case few years ago, and helped get the justice rolling. Since then, there have been many more cases where either media, social media or few people have brought together masses to protest or demand from the Government. This begets another question on the role of media; with the powerhouse of information that it can dessiminate, as the provider of platform where discussions can take place or bringing a balancing act between factions of different thoughts - is it walking the talk?</div><div><br></div><div>In the last couple of years, this form of social justice has primarily been led by social media, and it has been a more of metro centric phenomenon. In this digital age, with the help of few entrepreneurs or support from corporates, these movements can really reach to masses across cities and states to be more effective in bringing about the social change that this country really needs. The angry young man of 1980s of Bollywood has emerged as the angry, silent masses of this century who are on the verge of bringing another social revolution. While these Bollywood heroes can do all to bring this to forefront, what is really needed is a Gandhi-like crusader with a reined passion, disciplined energy, detached emotions and unbiased mind to tie all the threads together to bring another Satyagraha.</div><div><br></div><div>That brings me to the beginning, did Gandhiji's satyagraha really achieved what it set out to? Did we win the short term battle of India's independence and lost out on a bigger and long term agenda of social independence? Did the leaders of the original <i>satyagraha </i>also became victims of passions of power and chose to be governed by emotions over logic? And thereby leading to deteriorating sensibilities of our sovereign rulers.</div><div><br></div><div>In search of more answers,</div><div>Pooja</div><div>September 1, 2013</div>Pooja Sodhihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17843342068663682401noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6556622844342026635.post-91237356661373782712013-04-24T19:04:00.001+05:302013-04-24T19:04:14.046+05:30Workaholic Wednesday<p dir=ltr>Mid-week blues is the right way to describe the day.  Arguments, conference calls, discussions and presentation making concluded the day. Planning for next day started in the elevator while it stopped at various floors through its journey from 12th floor. </p>
<p dir=ltr>I walked out of the office building to a beautiful sight of a setting sun. Manicured, freshly mowed green lawns on the sides of a water body that runs into a small fountain, frangipani trees flowering at the borders of the lawn, watered flower beds and peeping from behind the trees - a big round orange ball. Smell of flowers hit as I walked towards the massive iron gates. </p>
<p dir=ltr>Calm and peace flowed through me and stayed throughout the chaotic one hour drive to delhi.  Can we not take more time to smell the flowers, see the natural beauty, listen to birds and just enjoy the everyday things around us while we go around earning our living everyday?</p>
<p dir=ltr>To a thoughtful Thursday, <br>
Pooja</p>
Pooja Sodhihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17843342068663682401noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6556622844342026635.post-11413587507169870112013-04-08T22:15:00.001+05:302013-04-08T22:15:40.190+05:30To the Iron Will...RIP Margaret Thatcher! <br />
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For the generation of us born in 70s, the names of Margaret Thatcher along with Indira Gandhi and Sirimavo Bandaranaike was synonymous not only for the women politicians, but also for the women who made their mark as the first women Prime Ministers of their countries. <br />
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In that era where the women liberation was still gaining ground, these strong women shattered the glass ceiling in the hitherto male dominated profession. For the common women though, professional life was still a struggle, except in some old fashioned professions like teaching; the society by and large was still safe and tolerable for women to live and let live.<br />
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Three and half decades later, the glass ceiling has been broken many a times. The role models are many a plenty, in almost all professions. And the changes are visible around us, largely in the intolerable behaviour of still a male dominated society. The roads are unsafe and so are homes. Women liberation has happened, but at the cost of the lives of those very women. <br />
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So while the world remembers the Iron Lady and her legacy, will it be also be relevant to remind certain sections of society that "Being powerful is like being a lady. If you have to tell people you are, you aren't."<br />
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In salutation and in hope that the Iron Will in us never rusts,<br />
Pooja<br />
April 8, 2013<br />
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Pooja Sodhihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17843342068663682401noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6556622844342026635.post-25647842832404960742013-04-07T00:07:00.001+05:302013-04-07T22:06:03.803+05:30Dil maange more!Another classical musical evening, a slice of Banaras, and memories of time gone by. Listening to three generations of violin player playing together, N Rajam with her daughter and grand-daughter, transported me to my childhood days, when she shared the boundary wall with my masi, and we could hear the strains of violin almost throughout the day. The joy on their faces as they played the classical ragas, the seamless coordination between the trio and the mutual encouragement to each other showed a shared warmth of similar such rituals and practices. The Banarasi in her could not resisted playing a Bhajan celebrating ramnavami as well as a Banarasi dhun. This performance was not only the showcase of Indian culture of teaching, <i>guru-shishya</i> <i>parampara, </i>but also of the myriad musical culture the country has.<br />
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From instrumental to vocal, it was the turn of Pandit Jasraj to take the stage. My first introduction to him was also at Banaras, at the Sankat Mochan Sangeet Samaroh - an annual musical festival in the temple. He is the reason why I started listening to Hindustani classical vocal music few years back, and today I fell in love again. On the menu today was Bhakti Ras, and he spread the Ras in the audience. I have listened to him couple of times in the last two years, but it was different today, almost magical. For me personally, it was to hear him singing live my favourite compositions that truly made my day. <br />
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A lovely evening which came to an end too soon ... The music still haunting me as the day too comes to an end. <br />
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Do I dare say I want more of this,<br />
Pooja.<br />
April 6, 2013 <br />
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<div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZlZqtVIHQj7uJKBEltJYCt5WpDbpAUFi1MbwuNDniruJFkWJCmLjnSTUe3XGanoPLVqS4ElxQ8RH8E64lKTp3a_PX_RZlRB47NklDOx3kedOS59WQVm3fhN_7-Vax0pfmVVJz1i2RoLs/s640/blogger-image--2093165354.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZlZqtVIHQj7uJKBEltJYCt5WpDbpAUFi1MbwuNDniruJFkWJCmLjnSTUe3XGanoPLVqS4ElxQ8RH8E64lKTp3a_PX_RZlRB47NklDOx3kedOS59WQVm3fhN_7-Vax0pfmVVJz1i2RoLs/s640/blogger-image--2093165354.jpg" /></a></div>Pooja Sodhihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17843342068663682401noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6556622844342026635.post-77154916186384324512013-01-29T23:00:00.001+05:302013-01-30T22:15:53.466+05:30I still have faith in this country, its people & its military …<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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January 26 has been synonymous for me with Parade at New Delhi for a long long time, and it remains so even today. But it is the Beating Retreat ceremony which I look forward to more than the Parade. Yesterday as I walked the entire stretch of Rajpath just to see the lights, the only wish I had was to watch this ceremony LIVE at Vijay Chowk someday.</div>
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As the cavalcade of cars brings the VVIPs, the TV camera pans down to a bird’s eye view of the North & South Block, and one sees the military bands come marching down from the Raisina Hills towards the ceremonial area. The bugle sounds, the national anthem plays and the musical journey starts. The much-decorated camel cavalry lines alongwith the setting sun against the almost majestic structures in sandstone. </div>
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It is a spectacle of a beautiful setting with music played by men in uniform marching to the tunes of varied music forming varied patterns. My personal favourite has long been the drummers and pipers, in varied colours of their battalion swaying gently to the music they play along. And too soon the hour is over, when you hear the haunting tunes of Abide With Me – the chimes accompanying the music of the hymn. As a kid, I used to wonder where does this bell like sound comes from?</div>
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The collection of tunes has changed drastically over last few years, but the aura of the ceremony hasn’t changed for me.The military precision of various bands as they march in tune, and other motions around the ceremony defines the phrase itself. And as the national flag is lowered, and the bands march back playing Sare Jahan se Achcha, there is always a familiar lump in my throat … I am reminded that I am an Indian. The musical spectacle of bands fades away to the bright lights at Raisina Hills, the celebration of Incredible India comes to a close! </div>
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Proud to be an Indian,</div>
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Pooja</div>
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January 29, 2013</div>
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Pooja Sodhihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17843342068663682401noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6556622844342026635.post-63465768026131428752012-10-02T00:11:00.000+05:302012-10-02T00:11:36.474+05:30Facing the music ...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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It was an eventful day today, first half being at an event which was semi-organised by me and later half of the day at another event as an audience. As i began my day at 4 am, having driven from Delhi to Gurgaon while it was still dark, reaching the venue almost when the dawn was breaking, i remembered an old poem "utho lalji, bhor bhayi hai. Chidiya chunmun bol rahi hai ...". Though when the birds started chirping, i was already inside the auditorium to start the day, missing the music of the birds and facing the music inside!</div>
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I have always enjoyed organising events, can safely say it is my forte, so it was natural that it would have been somewhat eventful, each event with its own crisis and challenges, fire-fighting and then the ultimate satisfaction of things gone right.</div>
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However, it was the past four hours that truly transformed the day through pure music. Music that touches your heart, soul, body and mind. Music that makes you smile with joy and sometimes move you to tears. The first day of Delhi classical music festival - music that is true to its being. I don't know music never learnt it nor understand its techniques or tunes. However, I still love and enjoy music. It was time to switch off the mobile (not literally but figuratively) and let the music flow ...</div>
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It truly was such a day today, from Dhrupad to Santoor. From the sheer rhythm of vocals to the sounds from valley of Kashmir. From the vocal sounds that sounded like multiple musical instruments to the soulful yet playful string sounds. Music that took away the tiredness within, rejuvenated mind and brought a smile to the face. </div>
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It has been 20 hours since I woke up to face the day and I wish the day was not yet over, I can still hear the music in my ears and in my heart. Truly the sound of music transcends all that surrounds us!</div>
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Pooja Sodhihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17843342068663682401noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6556622844342026635.post-7796354768239011702012-07-22T21:36:00.000+05:302012-07-22T21:36:34.160+05:30Load sheddingEvery year there is a New Year resolution, to loose weight and if not that, at least to control  and not gain. A resolution that gets beyond control somewhere during the year. This year I did not make any resolution, but as soon as the year started, my body it seems had other plans. Which came to surface by February, giving me scare!Â
And while the doctors tried to figure out, and tried to ease my pain, I made a promise to myself. And as soon as the pain was under control and I could start walking normally, I started my evening walks. 20 minutes of walking - the world and the people can wait.
It has not been easy, with my love for paranthas and anything fried, control to not eat what you see - but it has not been difficult either. And when my medicines started finally in April, it was with another set of instructions from the doctor. Less fat, less sweets, less carbs and compulsory walking. Now I had no respite, with or without my own resolution.Â
I have rediscovered nature as well as music, seen the winter give way to scorching summers and advent of monsoons. I have walked in 45 degrees though the temptation to stay in AC after a hard day of work was too high, and so was the temptation to go walking when the weather was great.Â
It was easy to control sweets, me being not too fond of it! And equally easy to remove alo and rice from the menu. What was difficult was to control my fondness for certain food items, and there were certain times when I gave into my cravings.Â
And after 4 months and half a dozen kilos off, I remain motivated with a target of couple more. And as my clothes start to get loose, and I get to fit in some old clothes, and while my shadow seems to be getting slimmer, I wonder what to do with my overstuffed wardrobe of Fabindia which once fitted me perfectly, and now not so :(Pooja Sodhihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17843342068663682401noreply@blogger.com0