Hardik Rajgor

E veryone has the footage from the 26/11 terror attacks in Mumbai imprinted on their mind – Ajmal Kasab strutting around CST station with an automatic weapon, bodies strewn all around. One of the most iconic buildings in Mumbai, the Taj Mahal Hotel, up in flames. Quite similarly, terrifying were the visuals of the earthquake that struck Bhuj in 2001 and the floods that ravaged Uttarakhand in 2013. Physical property in absolute shreds, distress and pain on people’s faces, their livelihood shattered. After every such instance of mass mayhem, there are committees set up to look into the matter, questions raised over disaster management. We have  Arnab Goswami  shouting at the top of his voice for two weeks; international and diplomatic pressure is mounted if it’s a conflict that extends beyond our borders. After all, we can relate to what it is like to be in such a situation. Injury, destruction, violence, trauma, blood, misery, pain, and death are emotions we all relate to...

“D id you study in the  ICSE  board,” a colleague once asked me while we were engaged in conversation for half an hour and fast running out of  small talk . “No no, SSC board,” I replied back softly, with mild resignation. “Oh, your English is pretty good. I thought you must be from the ICSE board,” he said, with that arrogant confidence I had become too familiar with.   The various boards that constitute the educational system in India are like the caste system. IB board students are the  Brahmins . ICSE and CBSE students are Kshatriyas and Vaishyas respectively, and we State board students are treated like the lowest rung in the social hierarchy. Students from other boards look down upon us, the same way the internet looks down upon netizens who typ lik dis. SSC board students become  Monisha Sarabhais  to the posh and sophisticated Maya Sarabhais of the country. Our emotions were aptly captured by Shilpa Shukla in  Chak De India   when...

I grew up in the suburbs of  Mumbai  and  apun  ka childhood was really  fatte . Kids would do a lot of  bol bachchan  on the ground   but then had to back their  shanpatti  with  kadak  football skills.   Those merely engaging in  bhankaas  were taken to the  khopcha  and given  kharcha paani.  One couldn’t go home and do  panchayat  about the  lafda  that happened on the ground because no one wants to be friends with a  phattu  who complains to mom. Also, because your  bantai  log wouldn’t be pleased, and  tereko dho dalega . We believed in being  bindaas  and settling our  nalla  problems  sumadi mein. As we got into  school , I turned out to be an average student who ended up scoring below average marks in  Hindi . “ Tereko  kitna aaya?” I would ask my friend who also barely managed to scrape through. ...