As a 24 year old self-sustaining Indian man, it was only a matter of time before my mother cornered me with, “Beta shaadi ka kya soche ho?” Taken literally, it is an innocent question that goes, “Son, have you given marriage a thought?” It would be wise, though, not to be fooled into thinking that. When your Indian parent asks you this question, what you should actually be hearing in your head is the bell that starts a round of boxing. Round One, ladies and gentlemen, has just begun.

Since the time of Lal Krishna Advani (or the dinosaurs, if you may), arranged marriages have been an integral part of what we know as “bharatiya sanskriti”. Our parents went through it, our grandparents went through it and their grandparents went through it. So laughing it off in your mother’s face might work once, or twice, or thrice (if you’re really lucky), but eventually, you’re going to get a piece of her mind. Knowing Indian mothers, this is going to be one hell of a party pooper for your peace of mind. You are a cornered slice of meat and you know it.

But fear not, because you aren’t the first, and you won’t be the last person to have to talk his/her way out of this. We’ve got a plan that might just get you out of this quagmire and back into the pile of jumbled clothes and take-away food that your life is.

Step 1: Understanding the Enemy

No battle was ever won without an intricate understanding of the enemy’s movements, position, and most importantly, psyche. The sooner you admit that this is a battle that you can’t run away from, the better. Think back on your schooling, your college, your job. All of it has been for that one moment, when your parents can completely flip out and put ads on a matrimony page in a national newspaper. (Special mention for the doctor couple who won’t make do with anything other than a gynaecologist bahu.)

The enemy has been preparing for this moment since you were born. They know how you think and they WILL use it against you. Thankfully, you are not without help. You know your parents as well as they know you. Just do your homework well and you should be able to predict their next move well in advance. Find out who they hang out with, what they’ve been reading lately, the candidates they are looking to tie you down with and you’re more or less sorted in this department.

Step Two: Weapons Training

Sticks and stones may break your bones, but this battle is fought with neither. You must prepare to face the Rant-47 (fired in short, angry bursts), the Dismiszer Cannon (shoots any logic out of the nearest window), the Emo Grenade (all your sentiments belong to me), and the deadliest one – the Big Daddy (“Dad wants to talk to you”). You, my dear friend, have none of these weapons. Most of what you have in your arsenal (when unprepared), will be tracked and shot down by the MoM Radar. So what do you do? Duh! Get weapons of your own!

If you did Step One properly, you have probably acquired the Indifference Shield, which neutralises the Rant-47, and allows you to… well… keep calm and carry on. A Logic Retriever Dog will be your best friend whenever the Dismiszer fires. It chases the dismissed logic, brings it back to you and allows you to keep plowing the enemy with the same until headway is made. It will also lick your face every time it retrieves logic, making sure your Emo Guard is always up!

Step Three: Tiptoeing around Big Daddy

This humongous weapon fires a single shot and rarely misses. Think dreams, think mushroom cloud. Fortunately for you, the Big Daddy CAN be tackled. All you need to do is make sure you’ve captured all the other enemies. Whether you want them as prisoners of war or allies is completely up to you. While engaging other enemies, be careful not to wake the sleeping giant up. Once that is done, and you have all of their weapons disabled or acquired, fire at will. Victory will be yours.

Step Four: Declaring War

As simple as it may seem, this is a tricky area. Timing is crucial. Turn to Mother India for advice. Never before has this country actually started a war. Wait for provocation. Once provoked, issue a warning and begin your preparation. Twice provoked, declare your war cry. Thrice provoked, attack!

Good luck, comrade.

The post The Shaadi Conundrum appeared first on Youngisthan.in.

How the monsoons transform the entire west coast of India is a marvel that intrigues me every time I lay eyes upon it. Gigantic masses of black are transformed into massive eyefuls of green. The roads are wet, welcoming and dangerous. The rains are unforgiving. It is the urban road tripper’s great quest.

Last Saturday, a bunch of us were feeling a little adventurous. Ten minutes on Google Maps and we knew exactly where we were headed.

Shrivardhan is a tiny peninsula nestled in the Western Ghats of Raigad, where the ghats come really close to the sea. About 180-km away from Mumbai, this happens to be one of the oldest towns of Maharashtra. Splendid beaches, lush green landscape and calming desolation define this place.

Motorbike, car, or bus – take your pick. If you’re on a tight budget, just head to the nearest State Transport Bus Depot, and within an hour, you’ll be enjoying a bumpy ride out of Mumbai. Large groups can hire cars or a private bus – simplify your itinerary. For the motorcyclists, you lot will certainly have the most fun, but make sure you’re well protected (wear a helmet, bro) and waterproofed.

The Mumbai-Goa road is hardly a challenge to navigate. We left this road at Nagothane, where we turned right for Shrivardhan. There was no more turning until Khajaniwadi, where we turned left and breezed over the Rajapuri creek. Another right at Mhasala, and we were looking straight at Shrivardhan. Almost halfway there, there was a narrow road that took us to a serene little hideout called Jaswali Dam. A perfect spot if you brought a date.

If you’re planning to stay the night, you could use one of these desi resorts. The one we used is from that list and it came complete with hammocks in the garden, some fine preparations of the local cuisine and a clean toilet to take it all out. Most of these resorts are a few minutes away from the seaside. Bring along a couple of folding chairs and a case of chilled beer, and you’re all set for a smashing private beach experience.

For those of you feeling particularly loyal to Lord Shiva, there’s Harihareshwar nearby. It is an hour’s drive and boasts of a beach of its own, with a Shiva Temple looking down on it. Take your time with the place. It is great to explore on foot, but make sure you don’t venture anywhere post sundown.

So here’s a quick sum up:

Well connected with Bombay.

Great road, fine views.

Good places to crack the night up.

Private beach. Well, mostly.

On another bright note (or depressing, for quite a few of you), you’ll hardly have any network coverage. If saying this helps, you’ve already sold your soul to Facebook. Just think of this as a day you’ve snatched back. Good luck!

The post On a bike: Shrivardhan appeared first on Youngisthan.in.

Bunty Patil is 18 years old and is about to graduate from high school. Swati Mhatre is a 25 year old housewife and mother. Vinod Balid is a 32 year old sales assistant. It’s hard to imagine what these three can possibly have in common. Well, it’s this – they’re classmates – in a special classroom where they assemble every evening for two hours of thorough training in Spoken English. Living in a country where people judge other people by their ability/inability to speak English, held back by not-so-readily-available finances, and victims of a flawed education system, they are trying to move up in life.

As much as we may want to deny it, we Indians have an inexplicable bias toward people who can speak the language our erstwhile rulers spoke. Since you’ve had a good education and spoke English growing up, it might not seem like that much of a deal. Unfortunately, though, you and people like you make up around (just) 10-15% of the Indian population.  As you might already know, almost half of the citizens of India fall below the poverty line. Considering the fact that our government believes 28 Rupees are enough to live for a day, it won’t be surprising if a more significant fraction actually figures in that category. With increasing expenses and ever-evolving lifestyles, it has become quite difficult to make a living in this “developing” nation of ours.

‘Teach India’ is an initiative of the Times Group. In close association with several NGOs all over the country, they have set up a simple, yet, powerful tool for educating underprivileged youth in English. The ability to use English effectively allows these youngsters to explore several career options that they would otherwise be unable to. The same government that defines people as ‘literate’ – if they are just able to sign their name in any Indian language – refuses to give jobs to people because they are not qualified enough. The service industry, which is majorly a private sector, has come as a boon to these not-qualified-enough people. They can now get stable jobs just on the basis of their talent and with a fair command of the English language.

This is where Teach India kicks in. After a painstaking survey of mammoth proportions, the course of study was designed by the British Council. It is a unique approach to teaching English, and focuses on the practical aspects of learning a language. There is no rote learning, no lessons on the rules of grammar and no tests/exams. Instead, there are modules that deal with the major facets of getting fluent in English. The students learn by actually applying the language in conversations, role-plays, and team activities. Teachers are volunteers from several walks of life, all with a sense of giving back to society, and driven by the urge to usher change. They are recruited through a stringent screening process, and put through a month-long training on how to teach in this radical new way.

I have already finished teaching one batch, am almost done with another, and I can vouch for the methods and the effectiveness of the curriculum. It is amazing to see how a person who could not speak more than a few broken words is now able to hold full-fledged conversations. To be honest, it is not as much the lack of knowledge as the lack of confidence that makes the difference. Once the fear is gone, it stays gone, and beautiful sentences emerge. When it comes to that, I must admit that I was surprised at the creativity and hidden talent on more than one occasion, and these occasions grow more frequent as the course progresses.

I’m sure you’ve all been part of discussions related to the state of the country – in trains, in cafes, at airports, or just about anywhere you can get a conversation started. We love talking about this stuff and how we have been touched by the (usually corrupt) system in one way or another. Enough talking, I say! So far, Teach India has successfully completed more than 4 cycles in Delhi-NCR, and more than 3 cycles in Mumbai, reaching out to more than 7000 learners. The last year saw learners performing superbly in job fairs – with almost 70% candidates getting job offers. Even in such a short span, the results have begun to speak for themselves.

So, do you have it in you to actually make a difference?

The post The Teach India Story appeared first on Youngisthan.in.

The warm summer morning is buzzing with energy. The school’s morning assembly is over and children have just gathered in the classroom. Two boys exchange slaps and punches as the rest of the class cheers them on. Except this one boy (our well-read hero, hereon referred to as A), who lifts his head from a textbook, gives the fighting boys a disgusted look, glances at the wall clock and goes back to his book. It is three minutes to eight. He doesn’t have much time. The reading quickens, almost in sync with his pulse. She could be here any minute now.

“What on earth is going on here?”

His ears twitch the moment he hears that voice. His eyes follow suit, shooting up toward his forehead, eagerly searching for that face. His head moves slowly – almost deliberately – to the object of his attention. There she is, standing right at the door – arms balled into fists, both resting bossily on her hips. The class is suddenly very quiet. The two budding wrestlers now stand with their eyes firmly locked on their shoes. Our hero, meanwhile, has eyes just for her.

“Early morning brawl, huh? Perhaps you two could use some more space.”

She advances on the two troublemakers. He keeps his eyes firmly on her. In a lime green sari, she is a sight to behold. Angular face, sharp features and large almond eyes – framed by short hair that curls inward just above her shoulders. Peering through the wayfarer spectacles perched on her nose. Oh, and that matching bindi. If Audrey Hepburn had an Indian sister, this is what she would look like. She turns into the row and walks straight towards him. He’s hoping she’ll catch him looking at her. But she just shuffles past, leaving behind a scent trail of Johnson’s Baby Powder.

“Off you go! First bench!”

The miscreants have been packed off to new locations in the class. The loose end of her sari has been tucked around her waist in the process. He can’t help but marvel at the perfection in her walk as she struts back to the front of the class.

“All right, we’ve wasted enough time. Turn to Chapter Three – Damon and Pythias. Who wants to read it out to us today?”

Hands shoot up like arrows being released at a General’s command. Students from the first bench to the last scramble up and down, pleading loudly to be chosen. She ignores the chaos and calmly scans the crowd. The boys refuse to be discouraged by the stiff competition. Everyone wants to be the one to read in her class. Our hero folds his left arm across his chest and calmly raises the right as her scanning eyes approach. He sits up straight and looks right at her. Her gaze reaches him and moves on. Then suddenly, she stops. Her gaze comes back to him.

“A… why don’t you read for us?”

He picks up the book, stands up promptly, and nods at her. “Sure, Miss!” Still brimming with happiness at being chosen, he clears his throat, and starts reading. “A young man, whose name was Pythias had done something which the tyrant Dionysius did not approve of. For this offence…” He finished reading the first paragraph and looked at her. It was customary that the next paragraph would be read by another student, and the next one by yet another, until the story ended. She looks at him – a quizzical, almost amused expression on her face.

“You’re reading the entire chapter today”, she says with a smile.

His tongue almost melted in his mouth. He couldn’t believe his luck. Here he was, chosen among 60 others to read an entire story to the class. He starts reading again, “Pythias said, “Couldn’t I just go home to tell my family what happened, and get ready before I am execute’6d?” But the king…” With every word he read aloud, he loved the story a little more. By the time he was done with it, he knew he wouldn’t like any other story in the book as much as this one.

“Well done, A! That was a mighty good reading! Alright, kids, that’s all for today.”

Next day in school, he’s waiting for her to enter the classroom. There’s a flash of white and he looks up just in time to catch the school principal walking in. No one says a word. Everyone’s wondering what they did wrong. He tries to remember if he had made any mistakes the previous day. Nope, none that he could think of.

“Miss D won’t be teaching you English anymore.”, says the Principal with a stern face. Moments after, he’s smiling broadly. “You see, Miss D is getting married and moving to Bombay. Let’s have a round of applause for her!”

She walked in as the class burst into applause. The only one not clapping was A. He couldn’t believe what was happening. With a broad smile on her face, she started speaking. He couldn’t hear a thing. She stopped speaking, and the silence was greeted by another round of applause. He still couldn’t register a thing. There was a flash of fiery orange as she turned. Suddenly, he shouted, “Goodbye, Miss D!” Amidst the loud claps, he went unheard. She stopped at the door, turned once, and blew a kiss at the class. For a brief moment, she caught his eye. The applause was growing louder. He raised a hand to wave goodbye, but she was gone already.

Happy Teacher’s Day, Miss D.

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