The problem with this world is globalisation. Recently I travelled to London on holiday and was going to stopover at Dubai where my three-year-old neice Anika lives. Most of my London trip was spent thinking about that perfect gift I could buy for her.

I looked high and low and then some. Finally running out of time and tired of stomping through the streets of London, I zeroed in on a toy that I thought would make the perfect gift for her. I paid good money and then immediately regretted my decision.

The weight of this toy was backbreaking. And in the absence of being able to afford a cab, I had to lug this huge toy to a tube station. My only consolation I thought was the look of happiness on little Anika’s face on receiving the gift.

Alas, the wickedness of globalisation put paid to my well-laid plans. After I reached Dubai, while paying a perfunctory visit to a mall there, I saw the exact same toy displayed. There was a minor price difference but apart from that there was no difference.

This is the problem of now travelling to most parts of the developed world. The same chain stores are everywhere. And they are laid out in the same malls. The joy of shopping and bringing back memories of the countries visited is now lost for you just buy high street brands that are now everywhere.

Next time, wiser by this experience, it may be better to just not buy gifts. Or buy them locally.

I have never booked, bought or done any deals ever over the Internet. I am still not sure that these transactions are safe. Hence, the reluctance. But now I wish I wasn’t this reluctant or untrusting of financial transactions on the Net.

I have been trying to plan and figure out a holiday which required getting a visa and trying to get the cheapest possible airfare to the destination of my choice. I decided to get in touch with a travel agent to help me through with the entire business of getting a visa and the ticketing.

What followed was nothing short of torture. The owner of the travel agency never picked up his phone, never responded to emails and never bothered to give me price for the cheapest fare.

When finally one of his staffer did get in touch with me, he gave me the quote for a fare which was way higher than what is available in the market. I have finally had to do everything on my own, including finding out competitive airfares, visa documentation and so on.

After a rather frustrating experience with this travel agent, I have new found respect for the Internet which allows you to cut out such operators and makes planning for a holiday less stressful.

Having lived all my life in India, I am still amazed at how inefficient we are as a country. Recently I decided to get my mother’s passport renewed and we duly filled out the reissue (as the MEA classifies a renewal) form. My mother, who is 73 years old and unable due to several health problems to go the passport office herself, decided to use an agent to help with submitting the form at the regional passport office.

The agent who claimed that his father had been in the MEA and therefore had access to all those who matter in the passport office promised that the passport would be with us in a month’s time, as promised by the MEA on its website.

It’s almost been two months, and there is still no sign of the renewed passport. My mother has lived at the same address for the last 25 years. Her name remains unchanged. She has travelled abroad on her last passport. At her age she is unlikely to be a threat to anyone. Yet the government in its wisdom has yet to give her, her right within the time the government itself has stipulated.

The agent, every time we call him, pleads helplessness, saying that the wheels of the government only move efficiently if money is paid or strings are pulled. When the entire proccess started, I thought otherwise. Now two months later, with still no way of knowing when my mother’s passport will arrive, I am sadly now inclined to believe this gentleman.

The Indian government and its minions still hold the citizens of this country in such contempt, that a passport which is every citizen’s right is still denied unless unfair means are used. It’s incidents like this more than anything else proves that the country is still a long way off from being a true democracy. A fair elections is just one indicator of a healthy democarcy. But when everyday rights are denied, it strikes at the very roots of the democractic proccess.

Before it gets better, it gets worse. The Delhi Metro promises that commuting in the capital will become better once it’s fully operational. Ha, that happy dream of life becoming better. Yesterday, on my way to an appointment in Haus Khas enclave, I drove down Aurbindo Marg, thinking that I would make it on time. Ha, the fallacy of that thought.

As I crusied down Aurbindo Marg, I realised that the U-turn was blocked, and that I had to take a compulsory left. One of the busiest raods in Delhi had been shut down for Metro  construction work without so much as by your leave and no one thought of putting up signs to guide motorists to take alternate routes.

As I fumed, thinking about how all this, I realised that I didn’t know how to get to my appointment. Then panic began to set in, wondering if I would find my way out of the traffic jam that I found myself stuck in. After wasting precious fuel, because of this circuitous route that I had been forced to take, I reached hot and bothered. In India, I am convinced, things always get worse before they get better.

Had Jarnail Singh, the journalist who threw a shoe at the home minister today, been a woman, he would never have done that. Empirical evidence (which frankly, dear readers to me is the same as well-crafted studies) suggests that the female of the species is deeply in love with footwear. Ask any modern woman how many pairs of shoes she owns, and the answer will always be in several multiples.

Ask any man about how many pairs he owns, the response (unless its a metrosexual man) will be more about function than form. For a woman, its all about form, even at the cost of function. Which is the only way, there can be any justification for the seven-inch heel that is currently in vogue in the fashion capitals of the west today.

What is it about women and shoes? Why do women feel secure with atleast about 100-plus shoes in their wardrobe? After racking my brains and asking around, an answer eluded me. I would like to ask each one of you, reading this blog, to write in if you have an answer to this vexing question. Ta da.

In the film, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, Benjamin played by Brad Pitt says, “It isn’t so bad to be old”. In India, till quite recently, old age was seen as a time for well-earned repose. The old were seen to be wise and worthy of respect. Today, old are seen to be dispensible. Notice, how politicians who are above the age of 50 are pilloried for being fuddy duddys who have outstayed their welcome.

Congress party general secretary Rahul Gandhi wants young people to stand for elections and we are told often enough that India has one of the youngest population in the world. Why is youth being considered to be so important and old so undesired?

As a nation, should we not ask for the best and brightest people to govern us or even guide us? Why should age define who or what we can become? Once upon a time, the differences between the two genders were upheld for reasons for strict division of roles: women were meant to cook and clean, and men were expected to bring home the bread. Similarly, we are once again drawing rigid boundaries where one age group is being demonised as being useless after a certain age and another age group are being seen as a pancea for all the problems that afflict this country.

The divide serves nobody well and if this nation has to do well, then we need to harness the best of every age group without discrimination. By encouraging a thought process where the old are seen as no longer being important, we will create a huge burden on society and lose out on valuable skills that every generation gathers on their way to old age.

Like Benjamin in the film, we need to realise that being old isn’t all that bad.