The Hanging...

At the risk of a backlash from whoever it is that sits and watches for things to pounce upon, let me be very clear at the onset- I personally don't believe that an eye for an eye suits every situation but neither do I believe that consequences of a behavior can be avoided for long.

Whether that consequence comes in the form of an admonishment, a jail sentence or even a death sentence that was eventually carried out. 

among the books I've read on genocide  (Holocaust, WW I&II et al), movies I've seen, articles I've read; two of the movies I've seen really made me wonder and question human nature,rather specific scenes in the movies did. One was Sean Penn's breaking down and crying in Dead Man Walking while confessing his sins to Susan Sarandon and the other was Djimon Housou's utter disbelief at seeing his son as a part of a gun-wielding militia outfit in Blood Diamond. 

The reason I cite these two references is because in each case, something heinous had either happened or was going to happen and there were people who had been deeply affected by it and with precious little to do.

Going by the Blood Diamond example, it might be understandable how a boy with very little options in life, living in an impoverished (to what extent I don't honestly know) manner in a village of Faridkot can be a perfect candidate for indoctrination. But it's not indoctrination alone that controls a person's actions. There has to be something inherent which also contributes to the things a person is capable of. Or is a person's will so very pliable that anything that is impressive enough can bend it whichever way it chooses?

And when the strength of indoctrination proves too be too powerful to combat whatever inherent sense of right-wrong that a person possesses and they go off on a path that is morally, socially and legally wrong well...then they have to find themselves in the position that Kasab did.

Even if people do repent, it still doesn't make up entirely for the repercussions of their actions. It merely shows an intent to. 

Paroled convicts spend time doing community service, others become religious and have a different attitude about human life, human existence but the life's they've already impacted negatively doesn't get a chance to benefit from their actions. 

And it isn't always about making reparations to the injured either. Sometimes it all comes down to the punishment fitting the crime. And if in the process if people are being made examples of, hard line messages are being sent out to people of a particular ilk, of a certain bent of mind then that's just the fallout.

The main consideration is that someone committed a crime and paid for it according to the severity of their actions.

I hope this hanging at least stops other Kasabs in the making or even gives them pause before thinking of carrying out such an agenda. Look at what befell him. Dead at 25! He might have been poor in Faridkot but would have had a family around, an opportunity to do what all young people do at his age, might have had friends, had some semblance of a life.

Instead he's in an unmarked grave, dead in a truly horrific manner and he never got to live properly and every day since he was caught, he was the target to some of the worst vibes and maledictions from around the world and most certainly from the country and family of his victims.

All in all, doesn't really seem like he made the right choice by himself, does it?

Reality Bites! HARD!

There are some days when it dawns on you, "Damn! I'm really a parent! And one of those parents who I swore never to be like and never to find myself in situations like."

Till now I was relatively close-minded about jinxes. I knew they didn't exist. People told me not to divulge that I was preggers before I completed the 1st trimester; I did anyhow. 

People said don't talk about your child's weight and health because of mal ojo et al; I went right ahead and told everyone who inquired exactly how much he weighed, ate blah blah. 

Then I got screwed. BIG time! I used to always tell whoever was keen to hear out a rambling  mother about how her child does yada yada yada that for all his antics MLM had never thrown a fit at a toy store or a department store and demanded that he be bought a toy or else! Apparently I said it one too many times because last week he did exactly that- threw the mother or all fits and got into a tussle with a bigger boy over ( of all things *rolls eyes*) Play Doh!!

We were out shopping for some winter wear and I happened to have MLM with me while Red finished up some of his own things-to-do and there it happened! Both boys spotted the party pack of Play Doh in the store and the bigger boy reached it although MLM had called dibs on it in his own way. There ensued a battle of epic proportions with MLM chasing the other brat through the store and trying to give him other toys so he'd drop the desired item. 
Although to be fair to my son's tendencies, I think he was actually trying to knock out the box from the kid's hands when he hefted up the cricket bat (foam one folks. No anti-social tendencies; yet). Anyhoo, long story short, the kid ran off to his parents and MLM ran to me with a particularly odious whiny tone that makes me want to Fed-ex him off to a remote country asap! 
On being ignored by his one and only ally (yeah right!!) MLM promptly dropped to his knees and started howling- all fake by the way. The other kid came and pushed him and unfortunately gave MLM the opening to begin to cry in earnest. The drama queen that I gave birth to then plopped himself face down and cried his little eyes out and I was forced to give my 'angry mommy' glare to the other kid who I secretly suspect wanted MLM to shut up with his whining as much as I did!

But 'angry mother glare has its benefits...other parents pick up on it and home into the signal like heat-seeking missiles. In this case, it was the other kid's mother who zeroed in on the situation and seeing my frown she promptly hauled her kid away, only stopping to snatch the Play-Doh from his hand and thrusting it into my brat's hands and gnashing her teeth at her's and saying, " SORRY CHEPPU!" (say you're sorry).

Wonder of wonders, miracles of miracles- the waterworks from MLM's eyes dried up faster than water going down the drain of a bathtub the moment the plug's pulled. He managed a few pitiful sniffs while looking at his savior which led to his opponent getting dragged away faster to a harsher fate- his father being brought into the picture and yet another scolding and glare coming his way.

Now we get to the interesting part of the story- by the time I'd finished with my shopping and was at the payment counter, MLM was already handing over the hard-won prize to the cashier and telling him, "Give Sidaath this one." Of course the cashier was only too happy to ring up the purchase till the 'angry mother' glare was focused his way and he reluctantly stopped scanning the code. MLM thinking it was all done and dusted tried to walk out of the store with the box only to be accosted by his father who pulled a good-cop routine on him. 
Btw, personal experience tell me that good cops don't stand a chance with a kid on the brink of a tantrum. Bring out the bad cop and keep him there till the situation's under control or kid's in a straitjacket!!

So there we were, preparing to make a run for it like a bunch of shoplifters! Red picked up MLM and nearly ran to the car parking while I grabbed all our bags and ran out while telling the befuddled cashier that NO! I didn't want the Play-Doh!

The kicking and screaming continued till the car started and we reached the traffic lights and suddenly there was blessed peace. The monster was out cold.

We fist-bumped and decided that I would continue with my forays into online retail and avoid toy stores unless we definitely wanted to buy something!

Ah! the joys of spending quality time with the family!

Btw, lesson has been learnt- anything good that MLM will do shall NOT be shared in case he feels tempted to retract that behavior and turn into a parent's worst tantrumy nightmare,

Oopsie!

Forget Penelope Pitstop! The Perils of Lil Ol'Moi were sky high. Rather the results of my actions were. I am by nature a quasi-dreamer. Ahh...what the heck is a "quasi-dreamer" you ask?
 Well my father always said I did things halfway so I couldn't accomplish being a full time space cadet and dreamer and was relegated to being a quasi-one. 
I have a habit of thinking something and saying something else-often.It has gone beyond Spoonerism and made me think of getting a psych consult done. 
Knocking over glasses, cups, mugs- usually pretty full of liquids (hot and cold, I do not discriminate). Walking into things. HARD ones-VERY often. VERY ouch.And then I have the unfortunate habit of repeating the clash with hard objects all over again. As if the first impact wasn't fun enough. 

You can imagine my plight when I kept thinking of all the times I probably might drop my kid because I tripped on something or because I stubbed my toes- AGAIN! Saying Oops! when you drop an infant is kind of an anticlimax. Forget what kind of injury you might cause of the baby, it is a fact that kids don't bounce! Not that I repeatedly dropped my kid on various parts of his anatomy to empirically check the issue but each time I saw my kid fall or stumble I could see his surprise (and irritation) that he somehow did not magically pop back up!

Getting back to my rambling- I am also guilty of wide circular movements with my wrists when talking and when making presentations I outright resemble a windmill. Thank GOD Don Quixote did NOT see ME coming!

Imagine this scenario- A group of immaculately dressed individuals seated around a table in a proper conference room with the requisite subdued air that ensues during a presentation. A short, bespectacled, bouncy person who walks up and down the length of the white board and makes increasingly bolder and more forceful marks with the marker suddenly throws her hands out in a gesture of TA DA! post concluding a particularly energetic presentation!
 Aforementioned hand smacks one of aforementioned immaculately garbed individuals present and what happens? TA DA! moment goes up in the air! For all eternity! 

They tend to remember you as the crazy hands lady than the ideating woman. They treat you the way they do bag ladies in Central Park and expect a legion of cats mewling around your ankles.

Orr...maybe in far more realistic circles, they immediately roll their chairs 3 feet away from you at the table and make sure you never get up to make your point with those pretty bright markers and suggest that henceforth you merely mail your presentations and they could probably include you on-call; for everyone's safety.

Oh FISH!!

P.S: for those wondering how many times I dropped my baby or stubbed my toe while he was an infant- the answer is ZERO! I waited till he could walk all by himself, did not have to be carried at all and then promptly walked into the wall!