Latest news with #Chitra
Time of India
13-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Time of India
Mothers, the Silent Pillars: ‘We are who we are today because of our mothers' love & sacrifices'
Their mothers never sought the spotlight, but their influence runs deep. This Mother's Day, Tollywood celebs reflect on how their mothers' everyday acts of care, sacrifice, and quiet encouragement have profoundly shaped their lives and careers. 'My mother's struggles inspired the character of Chitra in Pelli Choopulu ' 'As a kid, I remember my mom choosing to walk miles just to save money. My mom, who was initially a homemaker, began working as a teacher with my dad's encouragement. She played a dual role — both a housewife and a teacher. She always supported my artistic side and gave me whatever I needed to express myself. She never said it out loud, but I soon realised that things were financially tough at home during my childhood. Watching all of that deeply impacted me — it inspired me to write the character of Chitra in Pelli Choopulu.' — Tharun Bhascker , actor-director-writer Dhaassyam Sangeeth Shobhan with his mother Soujanya Shoban 'Everything I know about life and the industry, I learned from my mom' by Taboola by Taboola Sponsored Links Sponsored Links Promoted Links Promoted Links You May Like Invest $200 in Amazon without buying stocks to earn a second salary Marketsall Sign Up Undo 'I lost my father at a very young age, so I didn't have enough time with him to understand how he could have shaped me. It was my mother who guided me. She taught me about life — that when you're successful, you have value, and when you're not, nobody cares, especially in the film industry. Everything I've learned about life and the industry, I owe to my mom. When I think of family, it's always her and my brother.' — Sangeeth Shobhan , actor Neerraja Kona's with her mother Rama Kona 'Her constant belief in me gave me the confidence to follow my dreams' 'I think I began to truly understand the meaning of motherhood as I grew older. She and my dad had their share of struggles to keep things going at home, even when it wasn't easy. But she always put me and my brother first. Her constant belief in me gave me the confidence to follow my dreams — whether as a stylist, director, or writer. I just want to say thank you, and I love you.' — Neerraja Kona, celebrity stylist and director. Nabha Natesh with her mother Bhagyalakshmi Natesh 'My mother has always my biggest cheerleader' 'Even as a homemaker, my mom always had a strong voice and stood by her beliefs. Growing up in Sringeri, Karnataka, where there were no theaters, I'd look forward to visiting my grandmother in Bhadravati, where mom would take me to the movies — those are some of my favourite childhood memories. She's always been my biggest cheerleader, encouraging me to pursue art even though I studied engineering. Today, we're more like friends — we do yoga, watch films together, and her perspective always helps me see things more clearly.' — Nabha Natesh, actress – Divya Shree Check out our list of the latest Hindi , English , Tamil , Telugu , Malayalam , and Kannada movies . And don't miss our picks for the best Hindi movies , best Tamil movies, and best Telugu films .
The Sun
12-05-2025
- The Sun
Watchmaker blacklisted after smashing MPTI glass doors
TELUK INTAN: A watchmaker in a mall outlet in Jalan Bandar here, who ran amok by breaking the glass door entrance of the Teluk Intan Municipal Council (MPTI) building last week, has been blacklisted from further rental. Perak executive councillor of Human Resources, Health, Indian Community Affairs and National Integration A. Sivanesan said MPTI has given the 63-year-old man a month's notice to vacate his shop. 'His action (going on a rampage and damaging public property at the MPTI building) is unacceptable and we (the state) cannot tolerate the matter. He will be blacklisted by MPTI and will not be able to rent any stall or shop here in future. 'Also, he has not paid rent for two months, which is only RM150 per month. This serves as a lesson for him and other tenants, not to take the law into their own hands,' he said. Sivanesan made these remarks during a visit to the Chithirai Pournami festival at the Sri Subramaniam Temple which was attended by some 20,000 Hindu devotees on Jalan Bandar here today. On Thursday, Hilir Perak police chief ACP Dr Bakri Zainal Abidin said the watchmaker arrived at the MPTI building on a motorcycle and proceeded to smash both of the building's main glass doors with a sledgehammer. Bakri stated that in his testimony, the man defended his misdemeanour due to dissatisfaction with MPTI's decision to set up tents in front of his shop during the annual Chitra (or Chithirai) Pournami festival, as they obstructed customers' view of his watch repair shop. Earlier, a one-minute 30-second viral video showed a man astride a motorcycle descending on the MPTI building to smash the glass doors in a rage.
Indian Express
06-05-2025
- General
- Indian Express
Opinion The caste that doesn't want to be counted
In a village on the outskirts of Kaliyaganj, near the Bangladesh border in West Bengal's Uttar Dinajpur district, I once sat with Robin, a retired schoolteacher and former census enumerator. 'I didn't mark anyone as Paliya. I counted their names as Rajbanshi. No one should remain Paliya,' he told me. This wasn't done with the intention to deceive, but out of a sense of duty. As if he was righting some historical wrong — removing a 'slur', read as a caste name that carries social stigma. This encounter unveiled a dilemma around caste counting: People's yearning for dignity, individuals negotiating stigma, and the state machinery that both conceals and discloses caste. Amidst the move for a national caste census, my ethnographic experience made me ask: What happens when the state counts caste, but a caste does not want to name itself? The decline of a community The Paliya community, officially listed among West Bengal's 61 Scheduled Castes (SCs), is facing statistical erasure. Census data reveals a sharp decline in their recorded population: From 1.33 million in 1991, to 1.31 million in 2001, and then a steep fall to 1.01 million by 2011. This isn't a demographic accident. It's the outcome of reshaping identity, everyday acts of concealment, renaming, and reclassification. In many villages across Uttar and Dakshin Dinajpur, Paliyas now call themselves Rajbanshi or Kshatriya — names that offer recognition and less stigma. Chitra, a retired teacher and social activist, told me, 'We have to be cultured. Those who still call themselves Paliya don't know about our heroes, our history, or Panchanan Barma.' He added, 'If past generations didn't know, will we continue to remain ignorant and call ourselves Paliyas?' Much of this 'identity work' is driven by stigma. The term 'Paliya' is linked with notions of impurity, 'untouchability', and foreignness. Colonial ethnographers and Hindu scriptures have both framed Paliyas as 'depressed', 'pisacha', or 'kuvacha' — beings with demonic tongues and impure habits. Contemporary stereotypes often paint them as a community of 'quarrelsome women', 'pork-eating men', or 'unclean' migrants. These labels are not abstract, they shape the everyday life of the community. Many Paliyas adopt surnames like Ray or Sarkar, participate in sacred thread ceremonies, and seek blessings from Brahmin priests — all to symbolically affirm their Kshatriya status. During census years, they change not only their self-perception, but official identities on documents that influence policy and representation. Enumerators as agents of erasure The story becomes complicated as many Paliyas often serve as census enumerators. Robin wasn't alone. Jitu, another resident, confided he had two caste certificates — one saying Paliya and the other Rajbanshi. 'It doesn't feel good to hear 'Paliya',' he said. 'So I thought, let it be Rajbanshi.' Field interviews with an enumerator, now a retired schoolteacher, from the Desia/Rajbanshi community corroborated this pattern. He insisted: 'We must write what people tell us. But in this area, everyone says Rajbanshi. Only one in a thousand says Paliya. So that's what we write.' Thus, a complex circuit of silence emerges, where individuals avoid naming themselves, and the state stops asking. Stigma creates denial. Denial feeds erasure. Misalignment — A tactic? This isn't just confusion. It's a politics of misalignment — the widening gap between lived caste realities and official categories. The stigmatised misreport caste to escape caste. Misalignment becomes a survival strategy. But this misalignment is uneven. Those with bureaucratic savvy or political networks can successfully 'pass' as Rajbanshi or Kshatriya. Others — without certificates or rituals of concealment — remain marked. Ironically, they're stigmatised for failing to escape stigma. As one elderly resident explained, 'The Babu Paliyas can eat everything — even pigs. But we are Sadhu Paliyas. We are clean. We are Barman.' These internal hierarchies — Matal, Sadhu, Desi — reveal how stigma is not erased but percolates within the community itself. This is not new. In colonial times, Rajbanshi leaders distanced themselves from 'semi-Hindu' Paliyas or Koches in their campaign for Kshatriya status. The postcolonial state grouped Koch, Rajbanshi, and Paliya under three broad SC categories, quietly allowing realignments through electoral, welfare and symbolic rewards. Can the census see stigma? A caste census, in theory, promises to rectify these gaps by producing accurate data to inform policy, redress injustice, and ensure representation. But in Bengal, where caste is seen as a 'non-issue,' this promise is fragile. Enumeration cannot work when shame, concealment, and fiction shape self-presentation. It cannot capture caste when people, understandably, lie to escape it, and when enumerators are not trained to handle caste sensitivity. The result is a statistical picture that hides more than it reveals. Data cannot produce justice when visibility invites ridicule and silence offers safety. Moreover, the state's own actions have muddied the waters. By failing to address sub-caste realities, refusing public engagement with caste stigma, and using umbrella categories, the state has institutionalised misalignment, mirroring colonial-Brahmanical mislabelling. This has larger implications in times of increasing digitalisation, where this data becomes the basis of decision-making. Digital tools, built on such flawed inputs, amplify these gaps unless we push for a census that captures caste's complexity — its social, behavioural, ethnic, historical, emotional, and linguistic aspects shaping every facet of life. Toward a just enumeration Where do we go from here? First, we must reject the myth that Bengal is casteless. Silence signals not absence but internalised stigma. Second, caste must be treated not as a static data point but as lived experience, marked by improvisation, concealment, and pain. A just caste census must listen like an ethnographer, document like a historian, and critique its own categories. Finally, enumeration must be accountable. Forms, classification processes, and enumerator training should be open to public scrutiny. Names like 'Paliya' are not just labels. They are wounds — and also acts of survival, dignity, and resistance. A just census must see without shaming, count without erasing, and recognise without punishing. For the Paliyas of Bengal — and many others — it may be the only way to be seen at all.
News18
27-04-2025
- Automotive
- News18
In A City Known For Overcharging, Bengaluru Auto Driver Stands Out For Fair Fare
Last Updated: A Bengaluru auto driver charged Rs 170 for an 11-km trip, shocking the passenger with his honesty. In Bengaluru, where auto journeys are frequently linked to bargaining over costs, a man's recent Reddit experience has gone viral for all the right reasons regarding the auto driver's behaviour. The passenger, who had taken an auto ride across the city, was pleasantly delighted when the driver used the meter, which is atypical in Bengaluru, to display the fare of Rs 166 for an 11-kilometre journey. The fare was far less than the outrageous costs that many locals often experience. Taking to the online forum, the man shared his experience in a post, captioned, 'Good auto drivers still exist in Bengaluru!" Reddit users were both surprised and delighted by the story and expressed shock at the infrequent occurrence of such an honest encounter in their replies to the post. One user said, 'Hope you said thank you to the auto anna. He needs to be celebrated." 'God bless auto drivers who still use the meter, they are god sent," read another comment. Many were surprised that a driver would use the meter. Others responded in waves, sharing their own stories of outrageous fares and the difficulty in finding honest drivers in the city. 'What? Seriously? On meter? This is something interesting and new thing," one exclaimed. Another said, 'Dev manush auto driver… i was asked 900 rs from silk board to bellandur (10 kms).. and some complimentary abuses along with the bill.." 'I remember in '90s, in my school days, travelling with my parents in auto, for 10 km, it used to be around Rs. 50. An auto going by the meter has made me nostalgic," commented one. In 2024, another Bengaluru auto driver, named Girish, restored faith in humans by going above and beyond to return a passenger's lost gold chain. Her passenger, Chitra, hailed the driver on social media and shared his kind act with the world. Autorickshaw aggregator Nagara Metered Auto claimed on social media that Girish drove Chitra on the fare meter that day, allowing riders to locate and address problems such as customers' misplaced or lost things.
