writer's desk

2011-08-04T05:10:00.000-07:00

Of kaimurukku days and ambulimama nights
It was a lottery day.It certainly was. Just as I thought there was nothing interesting enough in the frazzled bamboo dug out from the attic, a bunch of old editions of Ambulimama, a children's mag, appeared from nowhere.
Thoughts whizzed back to my school years when my paati (she was my mother's paati. so we call her 'Periya paati') had distinctive ways to handle us during our summer stay at Thanjavur.
She had the knack of pulling us into the house when we were playing out unmindful of the harsh sun blasting down upon us. A strong whiff of boiling oil would draw us straight into the kitchen. We would watch open-mouthed as she would expertly roll white flour and twist it into tiny swiggles. By the time the oil splutter with the crispy golden-brown murukku, we would faithfully sit down near her to nibble the first few hot murukkus.
Before we gobble up a dozen murukkus, our gang of friends would disappear, following angry calls from their respective houses. We would then settle for a dhaya-kattai (ludo) with paati, who would invariably lose every game.
It would be a near-similar story at nights. Hours of conspiracy to escape from house to join the kids playing hide-and-seek on the streets would prove futile. Paati would instinctively guess our plans. Post-dinner hours would have her sitting with a new edition of Ambulimama, reading it with a murmur.
It wouldn't take a lot of time for us to crawl beside her and beg for stories. As the night unfolds, we would be blissfully walking along Sarayu river and sitting on the shoulder of Vikramaditya.
A decade has passed since she left us. But the homey feel of her cotton madisar and the endearing smell of Eau-De-Cologne refuses to get off my heart.

2010-01-19T11:33:00.000-08:00

From Cadburys to Kraft
So, Cadburys throws in the towel. But how does it really matter to us? Facebook and twitter are snowed under with anxious Indian voices that say the chocolates wouldn't just be the same without Cadbury. Ah, well.. true in a sense that we've grown up savouring dairy milks and gifting bournvilles. Diwali means 'celebrations' and a lavish treat for someone would be 'fruit and nut.'
The centuries-old chocolate maker did have a marked impact on all of us. But is it just because we have been so used to the chocolates? That being a part of the reason, it might also be that the 'Brit' thing that turned our attentions.
For all we know, a U.S. comp with as much popularity if taken over by a British one would have been dismissed with a news item buried in corner of a page. Call it the colonial hangover, but the Brit bonding is still going strong, so much so that we crib for their defeat.
But the good thing about plush supermarkets overfed with imported foods is that Hersheys or Kraft are no more exotic to us. If Kraft decides to root out all the flavours of Cadburys and introduce its signature looks, we might, in all probability, miss the good-ol' chocolate bars wrapped in deep-violet glossy papers.
But then, there is so much of never-tried-before chocs waiting to be picked. Let's mourn for bournville for sometime and quench our craving by digging into these exotic bars.
Cheers to Kraft and to chocoholics!

2009-09-11T11:53:00.000-07:00

A note of thanks to prof. Sugantha
On a bright, glass-clear day, I got ready with half-saree on and hair plaited. It was that period of time when the idea of attending college and staying away from parents for three whole years was yet to sink in.
Just before lunch, when my hunger pangs ticked off and I stooped over the desk to have a better look of my new college-mates, prof. Sugantha made a nonchalant entry carelessly slinging her pallu that hitherto precariously clung to her shoulders.
"A very quick introduction and then let's get on with the lessons" is how she set off her English lessons For the next two years, I sat amazed by the way she slipped out new words that I used to feverishly jot down.
Physics classes turned dreary and I began to look forward for her gyans. But advices are not something that would easily slip out of her tongue. Her sarcasm-laden one-liners will do the job of hour-long sermons instead.
Classes, to her, meant business. There had never been time when she slumped on the chair, asking us to "revise the lessons." From the chain of teachers who peeped out every half an hour as if to give that stern look at the sleepy watchman who, they hoped, will get his acts together and ring the bell much ahead of the time, she clearly stood apart.
For us, her classes meant pure fun. We were grouped in fours but every time we were asked to do an activity, I would whet my ears to eavesdrop her conversation with other students. There had been instances where I had gone green with envy whenever she shared something funny with my British-English-speaking friend.
For someone who was eyeing on M.B.A. and a masters in astrophysics as my postgraduate options, I became so much fascinated with English that the rest soon walked out of my mind. Prof.Sugantha once lent me a tattered P.G.Wodehouse book and asked me to try that instead of R.K.N. Soon after that, his books became my staple diet.
When English became a priority, journalism was seen as the best option. ACJ then happened and it has taken me to where I am now.
But if it was not for prof.Sugantha and if it were some other professor whose mind gets occupied with thoughts of chronically ill mother-in-law at home and highly spoilt teen-daughter, I might probably be relapsing into a state of coma - perturbed by the heart-wrenching story of the heroine in that popular tele serial.
Not that I mind watching them. But I prefer watching film stars real. And get paid for it too ;)
Thanks mam, for all that you have taught me and for all that I have learnt from you (there is a difference, mind you!)
With great respects,

2009-06-07T06:46:00.000-07:00

When my mother-in-law retold what the doctor had said, I can't help but think of professor Trelawney in Harry Potter and her life-at-danger predictions. The doctor was no different. Bile salts accumulation in Gal bladder, Biliary tract disease, stones in kidney... his guessing list was a lot longer this when she visited him with a complaint of ulcer pain. She was advised to take scans to diagnose the problem.
So it wasn't surprising when my MiL came back, visibly shaken by his frightening prophecies. After a day of silent prayers and mental agony, she reluctantly went to the testing centre, which was overfed with deadpan-looking people.
An hour or two later, she returned back and thank God, with a relieved smile. "The results are normal. I wonder why the doctor asked me to go for a scan?" Before I got time to ponder over her question, a call from my sister-in-law brought back the gloomy ambience at home. Apparently, another doctor had suggested to her to get her five-year-old daughter's digestive system scanned.
Prayers resumed, grim mood was set again and we all waited to know what was in store for her. Results were normal for her too. Thank God again! Mentally drained SiL was frustrated and cursed all the medicos she knew under sun.
Good to know their biological system function perfectly. But who is to take responsibility for their undue mental stress? Okay, the doctors can't assure the patients before knowing what went wrong. But isn't it only human to resist blurting out probable diseases?
For obvious reasons, scans are only to be taken at a centre suggested by them. Scan reports that are printed in any other letter head will not enjoy as much attention as the one that the docs suggest.
Being journo doesn't really help you at this point of time. In fact, they make matters worse and the frustration level shoots up to dangerous heights. These are tagged as sensitive issues and we need solid evidence before putting them on paper. So all I could do was to sigh (twice!). And yeah, vent it out in my hardly read blog :p

2008-10-04T06:43:00.000-07:00

"New avatar"
Finally!! after days of running-behind-sources, the baby is born.. the Metroplus Weekend, quite fortunately, seem to pull the readers who hitherto didn't find the broadsheet Metroplus interesting.. but wt marked the day was the unpretentious, yet pleasant launch party.. bigwig from ad dept, after unveiling the new avatar of metro, led the way to the pool side, as we joined him for the dinner.. the evening was balmy n trash talks that continued well after mid-night did some good for me.. at least, something to think beyond interviews, columns and stories..
new features, i sincerely hope, will allure the younger lot.. i personally find its new look classy and compact..
do look into the stuff n let me know..
http://www.hindu.com/thehindu/mp/2008/10/04/trcyindx.htm

2008-07-24T23:39:00.000-07:00

French-ish land makes a perfect holiday destination
06.07.08
“Are you going to Chennai?” the three-year-old smartly dressed kid asked. When I answered in negative, her smile faded by few millimetres, as she ran into the arms of her mom, seemingly an NRI. With Outlook in hand and idlis to munch, the three-hour journey in Pallavan Express moved quite rapidly; so much so that I had to be reminded by my co-passenger to detrain when the express halted at Villupuram.
The station was cleanly kept but for the lack of any sign boards to indicate the way out. For me though, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee at a shop outside the station showed me the way. Just when I stepped out of the station, a bus to Pondi, apparently less packed, stopped. But quite unfortunately, the 45-minute-journey could not provide me a seat inside the bus, which filled in people at dizzying rate.
Though the journey time was short, it was anything but enjoyable. Fish in hampers irked my nostrils, while heavily drunk commuters shoved my luggage at the fag end of the bus. Finally when I got down at the bus stand of Pondi, it was a welcome let-up.
Couple of my friends joined me as we headed to our first destination – ‘Manakulai’ Vinayakar. Sunday is certainly not a day to visit the tourist spots in Pondi. The temple had never-ending queue that thankfully moved at fast-pace. Perpendicular cement roads led us to Aurobindo Ashram, which again was overfed with visitors on Sunday. But as ever, the serenity and calmness are kept up.
When we walked out of the Ashram in inexplicably high spirits, Chunnambar beckoned us. The boating place has gained its popularity in recent times. A 15-minute ride in auto is all needed to reach the backwaters.
The sprawling sand-borne area in Chunnambar has been sparsely filled with play things for kids. A locked boat house, broken swings and rusted steels precariously hanging loose from slides are dampeners. Tickets, moderately priced, to reach the ‘Paradise beach’ are available only till the evening. Large boats, ferries and pedalling ones take the tourists to the shore of Paradise beach.
When we hopped into the boat, the person who mans the boat was singing in shrieking pitch. The music died on his lips when he saw us getting in. “Sit on either side of the boat. You don’t want it to topple,” he said. Petrified, I elbowed my way through my co-passengers to find a seat next to him.
For Chennaites or Mumbaikars, it’s a welcome break from mucky Marina and teeming Juhu. Fewer tourists meant less litters on the shore. Currents are stronger and even few metres into the sea are sure to scare you off with their dynamic pull.
Checking-in at the Seaside Guest House of the Ashram, we decided to visit the recently popularised ‘Panchavati,’ a Hanuman temple on the road leading to Dindivam. But travelling in autos would cost you a fortune. As it did for us. The auto-wallah halted near the Tamil Nadu border and made us jump into other auto of Tamil Nadu to avoid paying tariff at check post (yeah, you have to pay for the other auto separately).
The temple, on Sunday, was moderately crowded. Facade of it is under construction. The aisles let out an overwhelming smell of cement and paint, notifying you about the embryonic stage of the temple. But the newly done up temple’s sanctorum has as much soothing vibes as that of its centuries-old counterparts.
When we walked out, we all slid the Hanuman, shrunk into pocket-sized picture, in our handbags.
By the time we reached Pondi, its much-famed Sunday market was teeming with shoppers. From cotton capris to sand-blasted jeans, you get chic western wears on the platform shops. But before you swing into action, gear up for some post-shopping disappointments. Not all materials are colour-fast and long-lasting. If Lady Luck smiles upon you, you can get things at perfect bargain.
Bumpy rides in auto took toll on our energy levels. None of us were in mood for long walks through the Nehru street, where the market is spread over a kilometre. We walked into India Coffee House, yet another landmark of Pondi. The flavour of coffee at the hotel is said to linger in tongue for days together. With coffee being the least favourite among us, we opted for sambar-bonda. The bondas are really huge, so make sure you stomach craves enough before plunging into them. The taste, as ever, is deliciously distinctive.
We went straight down to Fab India, which, people say, has a unique collection in Pondi, with an eye on French population. It does, but the collection is minimal.
A drive in an auto took us to Sri Krishna Restaurant, which served awfully sour ‘thayir sadham.’ Invariably, all hotels in Pondi stop making idlis by dusk. Sigh. To satiate the badly treated tongue by the curd rice, we rounded off our night’s trip by heading to nearby ice cream parlour. The parlour was nestled between bakeries and very unassuming. But appearance is purely deceptive. The combos that they offer are absolutely lip-smacking. My chocolate-American nuts dessert was the best among all.
“Are we heading back to the sea?” one of my frens asked when we crashed on bed, with the bags strewn all over. “Yes. We are. Refresh yourself and be back,” I told her, as I unbolted the French window of the balcony to have a better look at the sea.
Grudgingly, she got ready and we set out to de-stress ourselves with the sharp smell of sea and salt. The smell was sharp, yeah, but it was the sound of waves that caught our fancy. Sometimes the waves hit the shore in a tuneful fashion, with note-perfect intervals. Suddenly, they get fierce and crash on the rocks with creepy thud.
We retreated to our rooms at 11, as the heavy eye-lids beckoned us back to bed.
07.07.08
Six-thirty in the morning seemed like well past dawn at Pondi. The clouds were cleared and sun shone brightly on the weather-beaten rocks bordering the sea. Cycles in Pondi, which were once ubiquitous, made their appearance only in the morning. We hired a couple of them and came round the park before it became too hot to loiter. As we sat at a cafe that night in Chennai, I couldn’t help think of what the person who collect shoes at Ashram said: “people still relate Pondi to France. The French-ness of it is long gone. Now all you find here can be got elsewhere and cheaper too. Ashram is the only unique thing about the city.” A land, despite losing all its serenity lost in the holiday bustle of tourists, remains to attract more of them. And surprisingly, people who revisit outnumber the newcomers. It may be the uniqueness of Ashram or the alluring beach or just the clean roads, Pondi succeeds in lingering in the hearts of visitors long after its welcome board fade away from our eyes.

2008-02-01T06:07:00.000-08:00

Soulful music? but not before a pinch in our wallet

The lecture demonstration of 'guitarist' Prasanna was more than what I expected from the popular instrumentalist. Carnatic buff though I'm, technical details had always been Greek and Latin too me. More so, when it comes to other schools of music. Since Prasanna's forte was western, I expected some high-voltage music in unheard lingo. Liberal doses of music from his electric guitar were always there. But what made the demonstration interesting of music was his impromptu wits.
To my relief, the event was organised by a ladies' club. Homemakers, who were religiously taking down every word he uttered, pelted carnatic questions. "Music doesn't belong to anyone. No one can own music. It should accessible to all," was his philosophy. I was thoroughly impressed with his learn-music-as-it-is theory at the end of the concert. Bidding adieu to the high-spirited homemakers, all in shimmering silk, I browsed few CDs of his that were displayed at the reception counter. Electric Ganesha, one of his bestsellers and a tribute to world fame guitarist Jimi Hendrix, attracted my attention.
Though I neither knew rock guitar nor Jimi Hendrix, I decided to plunge into the world of fusion music. With high-soaring excitement, I picked up with sonic speed and dropped it with equal pace. It cost half a thousand!
I re-checked with the shopper to know whether it was a printing error. She gave a sharp frown and said that's how the musical CDs are charged nowadays. So music isn't as accessible as Prasanna presumed. Or perhaps money can own music. Good music, I mean.
With thoughts widely on my mind, I meandered there to check out the sales of the CDs. Not surprisingly, business was brisk.
phew.. anyways, Happy listening junta.

P.S: Well, I'm too shameless to resist some self-promotion. Here is the link to my article on Prasanna's concert. Check out and let me know.

2007-12-18T06:19:00.000-08:00

FOLLOWING THE 'MY FAV' BANDWAGON

"My favourite" bug has bitten all the bloggers. With many list of the ilk are filling the webpages of most, it had kinda swung me as well. Even if you don't welcome it, you have no other option but to read this seemingly ridiculous moments. Read between lines to decipher the "deeper" meaning of it.
So here it goes.
It feels wonderful
i) when an early morning calls wakes me up showering praises on my report that got into paper that morning before adding, with a liberal dose of hesitancy, that there was a spelling error in a proper name or missing of the date of occurence. I adore these people who know the knack of making one's day by bringing the good things to the fore and saving the blunder for the later part, no matter howmuchever striking the mistakes are.
ii) when i turn down high-tea and lunch offers at press meets only to wait an hour more to reach home and hog mom's cooking. Try this once and you will learn to appreaciate the gourmet queen at home.
iii) when i receive an in-land letter from a long-lost school/college friend, residing in an area that needs the mention of taluk, post and district for identification. I treasure them more carefully than my bath oils.
iv) when i stand beside my faculty coyly during my visit to the college for a coverage, hearing them saying "she was our student. we miss her" to every other chief guest who grace the events.
Well, there are lots of other "feeling wonderful" moments but wrapping this up here owing to overwhelming requests from my side. Come to think of "deeper meaning".. if you still couldn't find anything deeper than commas and fullspots, drop that. Neither can I.

2007-09-17T04:51:00.000-07:00

Gender preferences? Murphy can have an answer
-----------------------------
The sharp showers outside the press club was loud enough to soften the speaker's voice. Three continuous assignments had taken a toll on my energy level. I shut down my notepad and prepare to leave. When I reached for my key inside my handbag, I hear a familiar voice. "Rajesh!" I say, regaining my vitality. Rajesh is my counterpart working in a vernacular newspaper. He is well-known among journalistic circle for his left-liberal thoughts and philanthropic bent of mind. "Yeah, I had taken a week off since my wife was weak after a Caeserean section," he says, preparing to continue his lamentations about his wife's health problems. "Are mother and child safe?" I ask.
"Yeah, they are. But my wife is still too numb to even walk a few metres."
"She will be ok," I console him. "Thank god that your baby is healthy."
"Yeah she is. For all my wife's suffering, it would have been happier if we were blessed with a boy. This is our third girl child," he sighs. Though the feminist urge in me prepared to rebuke him, my voice trail off seeing his distraught face. I take leave mutely, wondering what made the gender preference transcend social strata.
When I park my two-wheeler on the open parking lot in front of my flat, I felt a heavy rain drop hitting my shoulders and I hurry to enter my home. "Amma, can you spare me a minute," Kannan, our watchman, asks.
I stare at him for a while. Being a relatively new tenant in that flat, I still was not very familiar with the maids and watchmen around. Preferring not to notice my hesitation, Kannan continued: "Amma, people say you work in a newspaper organisation...," his voice fades. By now I've predicted what he was up to. "Yeah anna. But there are no vacancy in our organisation. Probably, I will check out elsewhere," I assure him. Kannan doesn't seem to have appreciated my assurance. He still stares at me and finally seem to have mustered courage. "Amma, how much it would cost to publish an ad in your paper?"
I explain to him that I did not know about ad rates but give him the numbers to contact and prepare to leave. Instinctively, I turn back to ask him what was the matter. Tears begin welling up in his eyes. "My son is missing," he chokes and the rain drops kept lashing at his bony chest ruthlessly. "When was it?" I ask, still trying to find a word to console him. "Ten days ago, amma. I slapped him for failing in his exam. He left home fuming. I expected him to turn up for dinner. But till now he did not," he says.
"Why didn't you register a police complain?" the journo in me, crops up. "I have amma. But no use. My wife is working in Dubai. I don't dare to tell her that her son is missing. I have two daughters, who are all bread-winners of our family. We were quite happy when my wife delivered a son. Now I wish my third one was a daughter too ," he wept.
Rajesh, I thought, hasn't been all that mean. After all, he might not have been aware of Murphy's law - whatever can go wrong, will." So, what's gender to do with it?
----------
P.S: Kannan's son returned after a couple of days.

2007-07-19T05:22:00.001-07:00

'Harry Potter and the Indian Media'
------------------

I know it had taken a really long time... but the near-to-a-year gap has actually done me a lot of good.. for, i've found how bugging it is to lay your hands on the keyboard to post a blog after filing a whole chunk of reports.. two, this has shot up my respects to my fellow blog-loving journos.. now guess what made me to turn to my long-lost blog?
It is the next set of whole hype and hoopla of media that has zeroed in on a single person, soon after Rajini's Sivaji. Kids stay off! You might get offended. The 'potter-mania,' a term that surprisingly sustains its freshness despite the 10-year woeful overdose usage of the media, is what i'm talking about.
"10-million dollars for anti-piracy works.." "two million copies pre-ordered.." "646 pages released.." Ooof, give us a break..
But of these eternal PTCs (Piece To Camera is a proud journo-jargon, which means nothing but speaking before camera) on how Potter made people wait in tenterhooks and whether J.K. Rowling follow the good-old Sherlock Holmes style of killing Harry and bringing him back after a popular demand, one report in a private news channel stood apart.
That said, don't let your admiration level soar for the pretty reporter (man, she was really skinny), who came up with an exclusive story on Potter's climax.
Everytime the news anchor shot her a question after minutes of 'mmmm and aaahhs,' the Potter-maniac reporter maintained that people weren't bothered about the leak of the climax. Well, she just doesn't stop there. With a sweeping gesture, she declared, "Everyone knows what is in the Bible. But it still remains to be the best-selling one. That's how Harry Potter is."
Now, don't start scoffing her before hearing her confession. "No, I'm not comparing Bible with Harry Potter. I just meant to say Potter sales wouldn't be affected by piracy and internet releases."
Woefully, it wasn't hilarious but annoying to the few among the many who turned on the channel. It was so apparent but didn't actually hit many. It's difficult, you know.. To first take eyes off from the stunning reporter and to listen how she was screwing up the whole stuff.
Well, that's journalism for you folks. But I thank her for breaking my year-long-blogging silence. I will come with more frequent insider updates.

2006-04-05T19:58:00.000-07:00

'Farmer suicides', has become a wonted term in the agrarian parts of Andhra Pradesh. As P.Sainath puts it, "when it comes to farmers' problem, it doesn't rain, but it pours." While a sizable part of the state are undergoing tormenting water scarcity, Miriyala, a village near Guntur is facing a different problem.

Miriyala, a village which is completely detached from the nearby places, is waiting for a small road that will connect it with the nearby commercial market, Gurizala. In spite of their innumerable requests to the Zila Parishad, their prayers remain unanswered.

Miriyala is a 'self-contained' village in all aspects except for the health facilities and daily needs. It has a primary school which has five classes, with four teachers and a principal. Farmers form the major chunk of population. But with a population of 3500, the village has no hospital or public health centre (PHC).

Speaking on the issue, the Mandal Revenue Officer (MRO) said, "The next bigger village here is Gurizala which is at a distance of just three kilometers, has two PHCs. Since it is nearer, we didn't find a need to set up another PHC." Though geographically, the distance is three kilometers, in reality the villagers of Miriyala have to travel 12 kilometers as there is no road connecting the two villages. "We have to pass through two other Thandas to reach Gurizala. It takes us half an hour to reach there," said Rangarao, one of the residents of Meriyala.

The other route which reduces the distance to three kilometers can only be trekked as there is a small stream to be crossed. The villagers have been requesting for a bridge over the stream since 1991, but the government had paid no heed till now. "We went several times to the Taluk office, they say the money has been sanctioned for the construction of the bridge but the situation remains the same for us," said Venkat Reddy, the sarpanch (head) of that village.

Meanwhile, in 2001, the government has sanctioned Rs 2 lakh for building a high school in the village. The building was built with two rooms on the outskirts of Miriyala. The villagers wanted rooms for all the seven classes and a compound wall. So the huge amount was wasted on a building which is now deserted and the higher secondary students are sheltered in the thatched roofs outside the primary classes. The government is still 'planning meticulously' to build another brand-new school building with sufficient rooms. But the need of the hour, the bridge which can save a few hundreds lives is still not on the priority list of the government.

2005-11-28T02:41:00.000-08:00

Is science woman friendly?
Even after the 100 years of Einstein’s formulation of ‘theory of relativity’, the under representation of women in this field is relatively higher. Though there are frequent spark offs regarding this issue, the conclusion remains the same: “women are not competitive enough to swim across the field of science”.
These are the same women who outsmarted the so-called “researchers and techies” back at their school. These are the same women who topped the board examination in both arts and science. What happens to them after that? Though the percentage of drop-out among girls after XII standard is high, that doesn’t answers the whole question of under representation of women in this field.
In fact, in 2000, when a well-known all-women's college in the United States, Smith College, announced that it was offering a degree in engineering, an electronics magazine ran an article with the title, "Is Female Engineer an Oxymoron?" The author claimed that in his 32 years as an engineer in power electronics, he had never worked with a woman engineer. He concluded that women did not have a love or aptitude for "real" technical work.
In India, the department of Science and Technology has initiated special fellowships to facilitate women to get back to science after a break in career. L'Oreal has started in Mumbai in 2003, a special fellowship for girls to pursue science, based on merit and need. But still, the number of applications is very low is what L’Oreal complains.
The Union government and science academies said they will scout for women scientists who will act as role models like Marie Curie or Rosalind Franklin to younger women keen to pursue careers in science. The International Union of Pure and Applied Physics said it will start a work group for women to create an ‘interest’ among them in science. The blame is again on women. World says that women have a loathing for science. But what do the women say?
Science is being looked as a field of research and studies. But research and projects are not all individuality and privacy. Group work and working area is what bothers women a lot. Women say, in reality, the workplace for them is quite different. The woman scientist leading government-funded research institute was quoted as saying: "This is one Institute where cheap `gendered' jokes are in order at every meeting organised officially. There is the added disadvantage of some male colleagues who openly insult or abuse the women scientists. The few who speak up against them (like me, for instance) have to face difficult work conditions — a work place that is an impending threat all the time, regular (and now quite predictable) disruption at work, and of course direct punishment by manipulating our performance report and granting low grades or denying assessment opportunities."
Science which is known to be a profession of innovation and creativity leaves less space for women’s originality and ingenuity. Unlike other profession, where women can shift their places, researches are meant to be done in one research organisation which will be mostly government-run. Women are left with no other choice but to work with them. A physics professor who has recently admitted her daughter in a professional course said, “Women have to face too many difficulties to complete Ph.D. if their guide is a male, then it is almost impossible. I feel software profession is very secure for girls.” This is a common conception even among the researchers. They don’t want their successors to face the difficulties they have faced. No wonder the number of female students applying for IISc has been drastically reduced from 20,000 to 12,000. And experts predict further declination in future. Sooner or later, the word ‘scientist’ will be ascribed to the dominant sex.

2005-11-09T07:00:00.000-08:00

hey folks,
enough of blowing my own trumphets.. now a bit of serious stuff... this is about the recent media's scapegoat -Natwar Sing and volcker report... some basic stuffs.. so check out n don't forget to comment....

Disclosure by the Volcker report that external affairs minister Natwar Singh and congress party are ‘non contractual beneficiaries’ in Iraq Oil Voucher scam had made BJP breathe easy. But the Congress is still hopeful of clearing its name. It is waiting for a word from Paul Volcker of Eponymous Committee for the documentary evidences.
Volcker’s allegations are based on the documentary evidences of the Iraq government’s State Oil Manufacturing Organisation that was taken over S after its Iraq invasion. The report, which was produced on Oct 27, says Mr.Singh was allotted two million barrels each in the contract.
Volcker was reported saying that all the names in the paper are personally informed while Natwar refused any such information. Later, Volcker said that he was doubtful whether Natwar Singh was informed about it, which made congress to heave a sigh of relief. Congress said it would ask for a ‘comprehensive apology’ if its names were cleared.
Another reason for Natwar’s suspicion is his son, Jagat singh’s contacts with Andy Sehgal who played a key role in Volcker report allegations. He is alleged to have close contacts with Jagat Singh. Enforcement Directorate is questioning Jagat Singh and his disclosure regarding these allegations is expected to be the name of the game.
Meanwhile, congress party has decided to play safe. The Prime Minister Manmohan Singh held a core group meeting that included defence minister Pranab Mukherjee, Union Home minister Shivraj Patil, Union finance minister P.Chitambaram and law minister H.R.Bharadwaj to discuss the appointment of an independent inquiry committee into the allegations made in the Volker Committee report. The congress party is divided about Natwar’s resignation with one section insistent that this was necessary to prove the impartiality of the party and save the skin of the party.
Another major tempering in the party is the growing importance of Pranab Mukherjee. Of late, he has become the most sought-after personality of congress. In fact, he formulated the government view on these allegations. He was expected to take over the external affairs soon but he made it clear that he would not move to external affairs as he was contented with the defence portfolio. The reasons for this may be because of Arjun Singh’s disposition, Natwar’s alleged private practise or doubts over Shivraj Patil’s ability.
Unless Natwar clears his name and proves that his son has nothing to do with Sehgal, the congress has to tough time ahead. No doubt Natwar’s allegations are a Gordian knot for the committee. But if the knot is untied, many big guns of many political parties will be hornet’s nest.

2005-11-03T03:41:00.000-08:00

WRITING SKILLS:
after joining acj, things have changed in many ways. one thing worth mentioning is my attitude towards my writing. in my graduation days, i carried quite a lot of attitude due to my writing style which i thought was excellent. wn i came to acj, the first lesson (which is a fact) i learnt was that my writing is way below the 'so-called' decent work. then came the worst part... wnever i write my report i never give a second glance to that. it was not because, i was too confident of my command over my language but it was because i knew it doesn't deserve a second look. i was cruel enough to leave my 'raw' ( a decent synonym of junk) copy to the editor, be it was my classmate or my prof. but then today, i happened to sit with my prof while she was editing my copy. everytime she deleted some sentence, i felt a pain in my heart. afterall, its my brain child. i can't tolerate if some one tamper my child even for its betterment. it really takes a hell lot of time to write a readable article which incredibly everyone can. anyone who knew the basics of grammar is fit enough to write a report about something he/she knows, provided that person is ready to put heart n soul into it. the problem with people is they don't start.
To whomsoever it may concern: start writing about anything and everything. it may be about india's foreign policy or about the 20bucks u lost yesterday. as far as u take initiatives, u are sure to be the owner of good writing which many people in our country yearn for.