By Rikita

Natalie Clifford Barney once said, ‘With renunciation, life begins...’

It was the year 2004 and every news channel covered the sport called ‘The Great Indian Elections.’ One clearly remembers Sushma Swaraj screaming on national television that she will ‘shave her head’ and ‘sleep on the ground’ if an Italian-born woman was elected for the kursi of the Prime Minister.

Within half an hour, the “elegant lady” of India’s first family of politics resigned from her position and suggested the name of the Sikh economist, Manmohan Singh as PM. With this declaration, Sonia Gandhi was welcomed in the heart of every Indian.

Wife of assassinated Prime Minister, Rajiv Gandhi and the foreigner bahu of India’s only woman Prime Minister, Indira Gandhi – Sonia is the brain ruling Asia’s Tiger. There’s no doubt about the influence she wields on Mr. Singh’s decision and as the leader of the coalition party – she is the torchbearer.

Sonia Gandhi, for me, is the game changer of this decade, because her life’s tumultuous behaviour showed her the thorns and gave her the roses. From being taunted for her broken Hindi, the once-upon-a-time waitress has ceased to be an ‘outsider.’ Listed in Time Magazine’s 100 Most Influential People, the simplicity of her sari and her shoulder length hair cut is a picture to reckon with.

Once Indira Gandhi was called ‘The Man’ in the office, today Sonia has worn the title with certain unease. Being at the helm of the United Progressive Alliance (UPA), a call from her 10, Janpath home sends shivers down every minister. Today everyone knows how Ashok Chavan, Maharashtra’s Chief Minister put in his papers, when she didn’t answer his call.

Her presence at the 2008 Olympics with the French and USA President is proof enough to say that she is definitely, a dignitary China counts on. If you ask since when did the leader of a coalition party always meet the international who’s who? One can just say, Sonia is setting a precedent everywhere. The latest being her meeting with the Obamas.

She has learnt to handle the drama in the Indian Parliament. From reluctance to enter politics, today her face on Congress posters has lent it a certain charm. And the lady, graceful and tight –lipped, is shrewd. Subtly she has raised the podium for her son, Rahul Gandhi. The Nehru – Gandhi lineage although divided, will still rule the show.

The Bofors’ scam aside, Sonia Gandhi rolled the dice on the Indian chess board of politics and won. Her being an Indian is a fact, nobody can refute anymore. From Amethi to Delhi, she gave being a woman – a new status symbol. And the element of mystery she has to her persona, definitely keeps the aam aadmi interested. The movie, Rajneeti based their publicity on her life.

Need anymore reason for giving her the title of Game changer...? Just think, if she decides to endorse an advertisement any day (hopefully, never!!!) would you bet your money on her...? Blindfolded, am sure!! Sonia Gandhi, it is then.

By Tanvi Desai

The number of steps in the stairs was the number of years it took for the courts to reach a solution, maybe even more. Each step she took ahead was witness of the number of people who snubbed her, of the time she spent fighting for her own rights, of those waiting to mock and ridicule her. But for each reason to back down from the fight, Aradhana Parkash had a reason to go on- the injustice done to her best friend, Ruchika Girhotra.

Ruchika Girhotra was like any other teenager, living with her family, spending time with her friends and dreaming on her future. A future she never had because not only was she molested by the Inspector General of Haryana, S P S Rathore, he also harassed her family, driving her to commit suicide three years after she was molested. Aradhana Parkashhad fought a battle for 19 long years, in order to gain justice for her friend. Imagine being a woman in this country, whose friend was not only molested but also committed suicide. Even the biggest chauvinist would agree that the status of women in India leaves a lot to be desired. Women are raped, bought and sold like sheep, abused physically, mentally and emotionally in every corner of this country and have been treated this way since centuries. Suffering abuse and torture at the hands of a loved one, or strangers kills a part of her, but very few would have the courage to knock on the doors of the courts to get justice. Not because they are wrong, but because they fear society.

Aradhana Parkashhad could have suffered her pain in silence, and she did suffer silently for 19 years. But she refused to let fate run its course; she refused to wait for God to punish her tormenters, her friend’s killer. She took the matter into her own hands, and created her own fate. She embarked on a 19 year journey, a fight for every injustice done to women in this country. Along the journey, her parents departed for another world and all she was left with were the values they had given her, and her sisters memories. Thousands of people supported her decision and fight, yet she was alone. People mocked her, ridiculed her. Her footsteps never faltered.

If Aradhna wanted, she would have continued the game- the game of power and mockery of the justice system and Rathore so wanted to play. She could have played the game on his terms, and benefitted. She could have settled down in her life in Australia after her marriage. But she chose not to play the game. Because for her it wasn’t merely a game. It was a never ending friendship. She continued her battle even when moved to Australia, and she won. Although her fight is not over yet, she has managed to turn the game into her favour, and has managed to win the battle, as for now.

There are many quotes on how a woman inspires individuals. But none of how she revolutionizes the world. But if there were, it could be used to describe Aradhna Parkashhad.

Metamorphosis 2010: Celebrating Game Changers

Metamorphosis 2010 is a mass media event, organised by MET Institute of Mass Media students, which is a vivid patronage to the game changers of the industry. These game changers were passionate, visionary, convicted, perseverant, curious, believers and rebels. This event is a salute to the qualities of the game changers, a salute to the game changers themselvers, who created history.

Come, be a part of this one-of-a-kind mass media event:

Belief

Stephen Hawking or J.K. Rowling, Amitabh Bachchan or Abraham Lincoln, Beethoven or Edison, Walt Disney or Leonardo da Vinci - the most powerful and  iconic figures in world history first shook hands with utterly unfortunate happenings, be it physical shortcomings, outright societal rejection or professional miscarriages (in a few cases, a combination of all three).  Still, they brushed off all these tags and proved them to be insignificant like nonchalant strong waves gushing over tough rocks and finally reaching the seashore; their destination. 

One strong common ingredient that empowered them to do this was their belief in themselves. Who would have thought that a deaf lad, would go on to become one of the world’s greatest music composers?! Well, that’s Beethoven’s story! Who would have ever imagined that a ‘spastic’ would go on to write about the black holes and give out ‘the theory of everything’?! Stephen Hawking did just that! After being rejected by a host of directors, Amitabh Bachchan pelted along to achieve penultimate success! All that kept them floating was sheer belief in themselves and perseverance (not discrediting the unmatchable talent and intelligence that they possess!)  

In simple words, a man is what he believes. If you think you are a loser, you exactly are that! But if you think you are a rockstar , I’m sure you are already enamouring the people around! So let your belief transform the way people think, instead of letting their thoughts bog you down. Believe in yourself and follow your dreams and then success will be taken care of. Just remember to not just rest on the laurels you achieve, take them to another level, with the fire of self belief burning within.

Today, when I’m sitting on my couch, trying to allow all the success stories to pry into my mind, i wonder if half a century from now (yes, I believe I’ll live that long..), when I’ll be rocking my chair, wearing bifocal glasses, some other young lad would be penning down the story of my life – err….actually I BELIEVE someone will!

Vision the Prerequisite

    Vision is the most basic prerequisite for anyone to achieve their goals. A clear vision gives you the right direction to proceed towards it. Vision can prepare us for the bad and the worse which may in turn prove good for us. Clearer the vision the closer you are to your goal. This is why many visionaries are big time game changers in their field. A real game changer is the one who has a clear vision. It may not be a long term vision but there has to be one.

    Vision plays a major part in bringing out the best in a person and helping him/her to be a success story. However, to achieve this you do not need specs with high power. It is important to understand that only vision may not help, but action with vision, which will make you to be a game changer. Bollywood King SRK would not have reached such great heights if he did not know what he wanted.

“Vision without action is a dream. Action without vision is simply passing the time. Action with Vision is making a positive difference.” - Joel Barker

The Birth of a Rebel

We are all rebels. Some of us, with a cause, and sadly the rest are wannabes.  From the day we set foot upon earth, we are fighting, competing, outdoing, stepping on toes, indulging in cat fights, hair pulling incidents, just to get our way and justify our existence.

What makes an underdog rise to a situation and get his way, a la matrix style? While the rest watch with gaping wide mouths. He is subdued and suppressed, his days are spent brooding and whimpering after the previous night’s whopping. His thoughts are drained, his feelings are confiscated and his will is broken day after day. Until a new dawn, when he picks up the baton, finds his voice and I must say when he does it’s like a lions roar. He vows to seek and set his enemies ablaze. The demons may be inside him, but he is possessed by an undying will to emerge victorious. And he lives a life like Sunny Deol does in the movies, any uprising against him has to meet his fist first, and there is no stopping the hurricane soon to arrive. 

The other kind of rebel, (the one who actually isn’t a rebel), packs his bags in sheer frustration caused by reasons as miniscule as cat poop at their doorstep for a third consecutive day. And mind you the packing too is quite elaborate. He rides off on his Royal Enfield trying with difficulty to balance his bulky suitcases wanting to look cool. He grows his hair long, quits shaving, skips showers and drinks beer all day; all in all works up quite a stench. His main motive in life becomes unending hours at bars, spinning tall tales wanting to earn brownie points with the ladies. And when his fire subsides, he comes back home with a sullen look on his face and goes back to mundane routine. News flash! You’re a disgrace to rebels and nothing but a poser. The only thing you’re rebelling against is clean underwear. 

How Not to be a Rebel

After dinner I stormed into my room, threw myself onto my bed and started to cry. “This is the last time I’m going to let my mother impose her authority and rules on me”, I cried to myself. And so in between sobs I chalked up a dark and sinister plan, one that involved rebellion.

So first on my ‘how to be a rebel “list I decided I had to have a makeover. The things that mommies hate the most are when their daughters cut their precious hair short. And so I walked into the parlour and I spoke to the hairstylist about how I needed a radical hairstyle. She then led me to a corner of the room where there was no mirror.

I couldn’t wait...and finally the moment was here and when she showed me the mirror...and then...the last thing I remember was someone stuffing a smelly sock under my nose to revive me.

I had fainted with the shock of seeing my reflection...i resembled a PINK COCKATOO. The blasted woman gave me a Mohawk and decided to dye my hair pink. There was no undoing the damage. And in between my sobs the hairdresser kept consoling me how it was only hair and that it would eventually grow back.

So well anyway I was sure that my mother was going to hate it more than me. Except at home they all laughed at me and wanted to take pictures of me so they could frame it.

So much for the hairdo causing a stir. I decided I had to do the next thing on my how to be a rebel list. And no self respecting rebel, I decided could be complete without a tattoo.

And so I broke my piggy bank and skipped along to this famous tattoo parlour. This was it alright, I felt right at home...with all these kindred souls and their multiple piercings and tattoo’s. I told my tattoo artist that I didn’t know what I wanted but it should symbolise my metamorphosis so he should recommend something.

The tattoo artist smiled and said he knew just what I wanted and that I was in safe hands. And I was so nervous that I kept eyes shut through the whole procedure. BIG MISTAKE!

I now had a pretty colourful tattoo of a butterfly on my wrist...and the tattoo artist had hand imprints around his neck from me choking him for free. How was I to know that he would relate metamorphosis with a butterfly? So unimaginative!

My mum thought the tattoo was very pretty and now wants one for her. And I just looked like a Mariah Carey wannabe with my butterfly tattoo. This was so humiliating...oh the agony.

And finally to get into the skin of being a rebel I decided there was no better way to do it than being a Goth this was easy – all I needed was to wear black clothes and half a kilo of kajal every day.

The hard part was getting the Goths in my college to accept me into their little circle with my pink cockatoo look and the colourful butterfly tattoo.

So for my first meeting with the Goths, we sat in a dimly lit room with candles and one by one they all read out poems about death and grief. If I wasn’t already depressed and suicidal about my hair and the dumb tattoo, I was now, listening to them rattle on and on about their crushed souls.

That was it, I had enough of this nonsense of trying to be a rebel, I was just going to have to tell my mother to stop.

I reached home and told her to her face that I was fed up and that she could not force me to eat my vegetables anymore. And that she could do whatever she liked but I was not budging. Enough with the cauliflower assault! I had eaten my last ladyfinger last night but now...no more.

And that was the end of my mother’s tyranny...except I’m a little constipated right now.