Today I get another one of those emails from world vision. That says ‘send a child to school now’. And I seethe. Some years earlier, I used to sponsor a kid through World Vision. They do say they will use part of the money for religious activity and for community upliftment etc, and that in poor regions of India mean conversion most of the time, yet I picked it. If a kid can get an education, who am I to worry about religious exploitation. Independent thoughts about the Universe and the necessity or otherwise of a God and the fanaticism in terms of one true God is not a luxury if you stay illiterate your whole life. I am not gonna be able (nor really interested in getting my hands dirty) to help the section of society they cater to. So world vision it was, and I got a picture of a kid with school reports etc for two years. Then the next year I get a progress report that says, since the school is far, they are teaching the 8 year old tailoring instead of sending her to school. What the *^&^&& hell! So I called them up and said I won’t sponsor if they are not even using a fraction of the money to educate the kid I am sponsoring, and the guy at the other end says, please pick another child then. All they want is numbers.

Of course I am all for sponsoring and wish many of us would do it. But I ended the world vision thingy that year. Mahindra has a girl child sponsoring, and there must be several where we can help. Perfect for us who aren’t really charitable in the personal sense. I personally hate dealing with kids and all the sob stuff associated with volunteering. But I do wish every child had a chance in the beginning. Just that I wish more compassionate people than me would work towards giving them that chance. And money can really help kids and adults, like the micro financing people Kiva. Of course I still don’t see why their partners should charge an average of 35% interest. Their explanations don’t really convince me, but that is the only choice for some people to get a loan.

Ah life. Self-awareness was wrong for us carbon compounds.

I thought when I had my own house I would be beaming with pride and living a pampered happy life.

Now every morning I wake up to a bad mood because of the same stupid flat. I have a fancy shower panel which I can’t shower with because there is no proper drainage in the bathroom. I do not have a lot of things that I thought was necessary for life and am beginning to realise (re-realise actually, after my residential school stint) not to be so. When I step out of the flat, I hope the neighbours don’t catch hold of me to talk about the leak in their house due to my kitchen. I fantasise every moment about taking a pickaxe and doing the job myself. Maybe I should buy some plumbing, tiling and carpentry books and give it a go rather than wait for someone else to fix the problem. Wait, I did a bit of carpentry in engineering so maybe I can fix that thing! Or maybe I should rent afterall.

On the positive side, this flat is much better than the one I stayed in Hyderabad for a month or so.

Today I wore to office the churidar I stitched on my own. So that’s one down the list of 100 goals I wrote early this year, when I went for a training.

Just took a peek at that list, and made a soft copy. There are some things I will have to try to get done till I die. However, 8 of the hundred are already marked ‘done’. :)

Take the Quiz here!

I absolutely love the part about the singing voice.. ;) :)

Today is Vishu, the traditional New Year of Kerala.
Wish everyone a happy year.

I no longer drive to office. There are a lot of volvos to MG Road now, and I have decided I actually don’t want the hassle of driving in the evening through the rush. I do get a comfortable window seat from my stop, and except for every other day they don’t play Kannada songs.. well, you pay some, I guess. Still, not bad altogether. The volvos are usually used by techies, you don’t see the occasional drunkard or the crude men you encounter in the BMTC bus, and all was well with the world. So I thought.

I had not remembered the Mallu men then. Idiotic, narrow-minded, frustrated, i-cant-stand-that man/woman/child and I feel so inferior to them, so I must be crude and talk-dirty Mallu men.

I am ashamed. Of being a Malayali.