EarnKarma.org is a free online web service that helps individuals and organizations to post opportunities that require any kind of assistance. EarnKarma.org connects them with millions of people who would like to assist in any possible way. For instance, if an organization is conducting a medical camp in a village and would like to ask individual(s) for any kind of assistance, they can do by it posting such opportunities in our website. We require your assistance in spreading the message so that change can reach most number of them.
Why are we doing what we are doing?
Today’s tough and challenging worldmakes it difficult for Non Profit/Non Governmental Organizations and people to get assistance from general public because either an organization does not have a place to post their opportunities or people (who are eager to help) do not know where to find such opportunities
The idea was to connect two sets of people, the ‘Seekers’ and the ‘Givers’. We are sure that more often than not, you find yourself in a situation where you are asked a favour, big or small, by someone…a friend…a relative…or sometimes even a rank stranger…. and you happily oblige, if you cannot…we are sure you at least try to…. Doesn’t it make you feel good when you were of help to someone? Now imagine if you can do the same to any person in the world, whom you think deserves to be helped. This is what we do.
Why EarnKarma?
Everybody is in the rush to earn money, to earn fame but not in the rush to help somebody. We want everybody to Earn Karma. For us Karma means good and what better thing in life to earn than goodness. We registered the domain name – EarnKarma.org The karmic wheel had already been set in motion, and we have willingly come forward to keep it moving and now it is your turn to join us and help change lives.
How did EarnKarma begin?
It began with a simple telephonic conversation between 2 friends during a mundane office day. One of them had volunteered for a good cause and was discussing about the same to the other. They searched for the terms-‘volunteering’, ‘helping’, and ‘assistance’ over the internet and found a lot of results leading to complex websites and the 2 of them wondered why in this day and age of a cyber-powered world, there wasn’t a simple portal to serve the cause. It was then, that they decided to take it upon themselves to start a website of their own. As we said earlier, the karmic wheel was in motion. Everything that you see and do on EarnKarma is a process to keep the karmic wheel in motion.
What does EarnKarma expect?
That’s a pretty complicated question. But if you have read this far we are sure you already have an inclination to help someone…so why not do that and be part of the answer ? ..So go out and help someone today …As the great Mahatma Gandhi said “Be the change that you would like to see”. Oh! and another thing, if you feel that somebody has to be helped but cannot post his/her request on EarnKarma, please take the responsibility of doing it.
I am what you call a khabri,a person who passes on information to the police on the location and whereabouts of my gangster boss. Yes, like the old Hindi movies, I too had a widowed mother and a young sister who was unmarried despite being of the age to do so.
I had to take odd jobs as I was ‘uneducated’, (not educated enough to work in a blue collar job.)
A Good Samaritan, Tinku Bearingwala showed sympathy on me and inducted me in his gang.We were a gang of three who performed ‘hafta-vasooli’ (getting the local traders to pay up for ‘protection’. Protection from us!)Our gang was small as we worked in a small but wealthy locality of the town. And folks were scared enough to hand over the money to us without any problems. Years passed by and I was able to up the standard of my family’s life.I indulged in hollywood movies, theatres and books. I was reading on a wide variety of topics to improve my "General knowledge".I had no intention to marry.
When you marry, the so called sympathetically side of yours shows up and tries
to awake the ‘good’ person in you. Nope, not my cup of tea or coffee or whisky.
I was a cunning fellow. I wanted more, more of everything under the sun, especially money-the one with the Bapu’s photo on it. They smelled good, especially the 500 and the 1000 rupee notes.
The local bar proved to be the perfect setting. I met a police constable, Chaube and during drinks, I shared withhim my desire to earn more. If you are wondering how I was talking to a police fellow, well in the drinks bar, it was an unwritten law. Every mortal was the same. Only the liquor was placed higher.
I stuck an agreement with him. I became a khabri. Yes like Di Caprio in the Oscar winning ‘Departed’. For one lakh rupees, I got the other member of my gang killed. Well, he was going to die any way. Someone or the other benefits from somebody else’s death. Why not me?
Boss and I were the only members left. Chaube’s boss had offered me fifty lakh rupees to cheat on my boss. Fifty lakh rupees! That was a lot of money. I started dreaming about my sister’s marriage, my own house and a Bajaj pulsar. I immediately agreed. I asked him to bring the police to an address that I wrote down for him on the back of the paper.The prize money on Tinku"s head was one crore and that fat idiot had robbed me of the other half. Well, you cannot have everything. Can you? This was enough
The time had come. Tinku and I were held up in the room. He looked out of form the whole day as if some thing bad was going to happen to him today. I was the architect of his day. Tinku said-‘Chela, You have been a good friend and a companion to me. But why did you do this’.
I was shocked. He knew that I had set him up. ‘Boss, what are you talking about? I have no idea.’
‘Do not lie to me. I was there when you spoke to that fat idiot, Chaube.’
‘Well, I cannot act further more. I am sorry boss. I had to do it. My sister had to get married. My home needed repairs.’
‘Now that you have done it, I have nothing to say. You have done what you had to do. You could have asked me for the money.’
The police team was intently listening to the conversation outside the room. They were 4 of them. Each one had an AK-47 rifle along with an additional magazine. They wore green bullet proof jackets. The radio was kept on silent so as not to disturb the stealth nature of the operation.
Inside the room, the conversation continued. Tinku went on ranting about how I had back stabbed him. I reminded him that he might have done the same to someone else too. If you are wondering why Tinku had attacked me, he never carried a weapon and was too frail to attack me. He was one of those guys whose name evoked fear
manifold times than his presence.
‘Chela, I leave the enterprise in your hands. Make it big’. He sounded like Dhirubhai Ambani and I was Anil Ambani.Heck. ‘Boss, thank you.’ I fell on his feet for his blessings. I hit the empty box lying on the ground in process. That was the signal. The police would rush in five minutes. I had to get out.
I pushed the boss and ran from the back door. I met Chaube on the way. He handed me the fifty lakh rupee in a black suitcase. It was the same configuration that I had asked for. The smell of money was irresistible. I took it and ran. ‘He is inside. He’s all yours.’
The police stormed the room. ‘Hands up’ they shouted in unison like the Italian orchestra.The room was deserted except for the broken box and the mirror.
The Spencer plaza junction is world famous in Madras (I do not like the word Chennai.).
Why world famous? You can meet a person of any nationality here in a particular period of time. The time period is your decision. It is akin to the Times Square. It lacks only the huge neon advertising lights that the latter has.
The sun was beating down and the traffic was pouring in from the north side and the east side. The north side has a lot of buses and the other side has the more expensive cars, a clear indication of the divide in the society in those directions. Added to the noise and clamor was the non stop wailing of the siren atop the white ambassador car. Some one high and mighty was traveling in that. How I wished I could drag him out of the car and give him a whack. Ah Poetic justice!
This was my work time. My father left a decent enough legacy so that I could pursue something that was mentally stimulating, ignoring the economics of the activity. I love the phrase mentally stimulating. It brings out the do Vinci’s, the Van Gogh’s and the Mozart’s of the world in your (the reader) small brain.
Like the quarry (prey) that I have been observing for the past ten days. My job is pretty simple. Spot your target market, develop skills to address them and then sell them their ultimate product. You can make a killing. Not like the Indian stock market though.
Even the C.KPrahlad’s of the world dare not disagree with my strategy. I have no respect for the business school professors. Why somebody must be paid an obscene amount to tell me that 1+1 = 2. Food for thought eh.
My target was the educated youth of today. They seem to have an understanding for everything, a reason and logic for every f***ing thing. They sounded like deep purple and Kurt cobain lecturing a novice on drugs.
We know what happens
We know why it happens
We know how it happens
Because we make it happen
That was their song. Idiots. I belonged to a generation older than theirs. The generation of revolution, the generation of struggle.
Coming back, my target studied in a college and attended some MBA coaching class. He was a typical college kid, crew cut, Armstrong band on his hand and a funky mobile phone in his hand. His fingers were all over the phone, as if he was moving his hands over something that was living and belonged to the other sex. I was ten feet behind him. The man in the traffic signal turned read with anger. Stop, he said to everyone. But they disapproved and stared crossing. He crossed too. Strike one!
A car crossed with the wailing siren crossed at the same time. It was the additional judge, the man of law.Hmm my next quarry. I waited for the man in the signal to turn happy and green He took his own time but he did become happy. I crossed the pedestrian crossing and searched frantically for my target market.
I ran, I moved like Jason Bourne, I swayed like bond and I found him finally. He was at the vendor nearby. I went close enough to hear him talk. I loved people talking. ‘One Kings and one chlormint’, he said, thrusting the exact amount into the vendor’s hands. Damn you cigarette companies. Another rupee to your bottom-line and the topline.
I fidgeted with the pay phone nearby. He smoked and dropped the butt on the ground, stamping it with his feet. Strike two!
One of the most similar things bout public places in India is that they inevitably turn into public pissing corners. Yes P-I-S-S-I-N-G corner. The thing that you do in your toilet. They smelled of piss and tobacco. All the perfume makers together cannot come out with a perfume that smells worse.
He moved to the pissing point, not the tipping point. Most of you readers think only about the tipping point. Add this to your jargon (P-I-S-S-I-N-G P-O-I-N-T) and go take a hike. He unzipped his fly and took his organ out. The trickle turned into a stream. Strike three.
I moved near him deftly and asked him if he knew what he was doing. He continued unabashed. I took out the hallucinating agent and sprayed a oh so little on his face. The stream turned into a trickle and it stopped. He fell on the ground. Limp. Passer by’s never notice anything other than what is in front of them. I lifted him, placed one hand on his shoulder and crossed the road. Only when the man in the signal was happy and green. Principles, mine.
My laboratory was a mobile one. A maruti van fitted with CNG fuel kit so that it did not pollute. The van is a highly customizable vehicle. I had modified the interiors to make them soundproof. Nothing came in and nothing went out.I removed him from my shoulders and placed him on the rear seat and closed the door.
A splash of water on his face and he was awake. He mumbled-‘Where am I? Who are you?’. My batman mask covered my face and left no clue to on lookers. That was my laboratory costume. I replied – ‘I am a representative of the Institute of Public behavior.’
He was hallucinating and asked-‘I have not heard of that. I know IIT, IIM.Is it a government institute?’
I laughed. The current generation and their fascination with anything starting with ‘I’. I gave him a pamphlet of my institute. I asked him to read the motto aloud. He read- ‘To save the country from filth and muck.’ He turned to the next page. To his horror, he discovered his photos, one at the t-nagar junction spitting pan masala, the other at adyar bus depot smoking, at Broadway bus stand, pissing in all his glory. His face went white and he probably wet his pants. He pissed.
I was reading from my lab manual aloud.
Aim: To clean the filth from the road
Apparatus required: A cactus, few leeches and the specimen.
Procedure: You know it.
I took the cacti and the leeches from the box and placed it next to the specimen. He was tied all over, leaving an opening near his eyes and mouth. I slowly rolled the cacti on his bare arms. He kept shouting. ‘No point mate! This is sound proof. No one can hear you.’ The leeches went on his face and started their job. They became fat with every passing second; I loved their sense of time and their efficiency.
Blood started trickling and then flowed like the river flowing from the glacier. I spoke-‘Do you know Baseball? You must. What I am playing is very similar. If you miss three pitches, strike three and you are out. Here, you break my rules thrice and you are out. But there you end up in the team locker. Here you end up in the gutter. Three strikes and you are out. Out! Out! Out!. He was on the way to meet the maker.
I started the engine and drove to my home in the suburbs. My pets were waiting for their share of the prey.
P.S: You can see a white maruti van going around the city masked as a call taxi. One of them is mine and I hope you are not my next prey. So be careful, very careful when you do something that I do not like.
At 10.40 pm are you thinking of me? Or are you thinking of the other person who betrayed you
At 10.40 pm are you level headed? has the spirit left you enchanted to leave the bitter taste behind to a sweeter palette to kill the person who did all the stuff to you with a machette
At 10.40 pm are you sane ? Are you attempting to jump out of the window to fly like the kite Are you thinking of who you actually can be? Are you thinking of giving somebody a fight?
At 10.40 pm are you the same person that I left behind, I yearned to To find a better life which was never there to find a better person than you To erase you from my mind Which I never could
At 10.40 pm I ask you to be with me again To seek the answers together, joy and pain
At 10.40 pm I have to stop, my heart is too sore Coz the time is 10.40 pm no more
P.S.I wrote this poem at 10.40 in the night and hence the title..
The sun was paying hide and seek with the morning clouds, clouds filled with water threatening to deposit its treasure anytime. The town of Rampur was slowly waking up to the morning. Fifty houses made of bricks, cement and a lot of brotherly love occupied the town. Roads that were tarred once in five years, coinciding with the general election cycle, the time when the local goonda used to accompany the candidate in his old rickety Plymouth car to 'ask' people to vote for him. People there lived a pretty simple life. Really simple.Rahim chacha, the 'mochi', Raghavan, the kirana shop owner and a few other businesses dotted the town. The Jasheela tea stall was the most frequented joint of the town. The stall was packed with people. The tea was not too great though.Rahim chacha parked his lamby 150 cc scooter near the shop and entered it with a hint of trepidation. Fear was written all over his face. He sat on the empty seat and called on chotu to get him tea.Raju was the tea-maker at Jasheela. Chotu immediately shouted,'Master, Rahim chacha is full tension.Ek chai ekdum solid.'Chotu was the only person who served tea there.
Raju swung into action. The boiling milk was sending waves of steam in the air. He poured the tea concentrate into the glass, dark and hot. The aroma of tea filled the air. He dipped a small cup into the boiling milk and then added it to the tea, stirring it. The sugar dabba was closed. He held the glass and went to see Rahim chacha.
'What happened Rahim Chacha?'-he asked
'I have been ruined. My wife no longer wants to live with me'
'Why? What happened all of a sudden after ten years?'
'I was drunk last night and uttered the word - Talaq thrice in a fit of rage'
'Oh Allah, What did you do!'
'I have been asking Allah and her forgiveness from the time I woke up but they do not seem to be in the mood to forgive me. How will I ever survive? She was my strength'
'Hold this glass of tea and I will help you'-said Raju
He picked up a piece of paper and wrote something on it. He handed the paper to chacha.He read it and then asked,’ will it work?’Raju smiled and said-'Zaroor.It will. Say it with a lot of love in your eyes and she will be yours again. Drink the tea.'
Chacha sipped the tea.Raju; this is the best tea that I have had. Perfect chai! Here is the 4 rupees for the tea.Raju put the coins in his pocket and waved goodbye to chacha. Dawn turned into dusk and Raju was engrossed in his mundane duties. He completed his evening puja.The fragrance of agarbathis and the lamp had descended into the corner of the stall, purifying it.
There was a commotion outside. People ran out and noises were heard.Raju ran out. The local milkman had met with an accident with the poet and were now arguing on who will pay the compensation for the milk spilt. ‘People', Raju sighed and continued with his chores.Raghava came into the tea stall, sweating profusely.’ Why does everyone have to sweat profusely when they come here' - wondered Raju.Raghava's daughter had eloped from home and married a person of another caste, highly unacceptable by her father.
Raghavan was very sad and asked Raju for a tea.Raju prepared the tea. The sugar dabba was closed. He handed Raghavan the tea and asked him-'What happened?'
'My daughter ran away with Narendar, the fisher man from the other vaillage.He does not belong to my caste. I have lost everything, my prestige. The village folk will now look down at me.'
'Nahin Raghavan, You are committing a mistake. She had to run away because you would never have accepted her love. You must be fortunate that your daughter has been able to experience the best gift of God, love'
'You are wrong Raju; you have never had a daughter. What do you know about the pain of a daughter eloping with someone?’ Raghavan continued angrily.
Silence descended for two minutes.Raju then said,’ Five years back when I came to this town to establish my tea stall here, I was in your position. My daughter had eloped and I was very angry. Angry enough to hunt her down and kill her. I was ashamed and I left the town soon after. On my way to this town, I met a traveling saint. He asked the reason for my misery and I said so. He guffawed at me and Said,'Beta,Your are a fortunate father because your daughter has been able to experience the best gift of God, Love. Forgive her and you shall also experience the same.'
When Raju turned around, Raghavan had left. The tea stall had become silent again. A few days later, chacha came running to the tea stall. He hugged Raju and said-’you are truly my savior said and did what was written on the parchment. My wife is mine again. May Allah bless you for seven generations’; he planted a kiss on Raju's forehead.
A few hours later, Raghavan came to the tea stall with two visitors, his daughter and his son in law. Raghavan looked at Raju.Their eyes talked. few moments later, a tear filled Raghavan hugged Raju and asked him to make three teas.
The tea was the same, without any sugar.Chottu was baffled to see that people liked the tea her despite no sugar.
Chotu later asked Raju,'Bhaiya, give me twenty rupees. I will buy two kilos of sugar. The sugar dabba has been empty for a long time and you have not noticed it. How do the people like the tea here? No sugar at all.'
Raju on hearing this laughed and replied-' sweetness is not in the sugar but in your words and actions'
Truly yours has decided to compile a list of manias and phobias that we (Indians) suffer from. The list is not exhaustive. Feel free to add to it.
Manias:
Honk-O-Mania:
We honk once for every two seconds we spend on the driving wheel/ handle bar of a motor vehicle.
Spit-O-Mania:
We spit for every ten meters we walk.
SaasBahu & Chithi Mania:
Do I have to explain this????
Mobile-O-Mania:
I once lived in an era where the only means of communication was the green color rotating dial chubby phone with the analog ring tone. Fast forward to today, the plumber comes to my home and I find a phone ringing, thought it must have been mine but to my surprise, the plumber pulls out his ultra sleek, ultra modern phone.Aaargh!
Lays, chips and French fries-O-mania:
I read it in a paper sometime that a company in Gujarat was planning to build Asia’s most modern plant to make POTATO chips. They would process 9 tonnes of potatoes into Chips.9 tonnes an hour??? Well the kids of this generation and so too the elders cannot live without the ‘CHIP’. We are the chip of the new block.
DINK-O-Mania:
For folks who do not know what DINK is, let me illuminate. DINK is a species of homosapiens that does not like to grow a family. Both the husband and the wife earn and burn but do not yearn for the kid. That’s good news. India’s population ticker does need some rest.
Underthetable-O-Mania:
We do anything and everything under the table. We are the mother, the father, the child and the grand parents of the phrase-’Under the table’.
Gyan Professing-O-Mania:
Yours truly is a genius in this. Need I say more?? (P.S.this is an exercise in the mania)
Breaking News-O-Mania:
A few years back, this mania was non-existent. But now, this is everywhere. Every channel on the idiot box says so.
Breaking News-Hannef’s plane takes off
Breaking News-Haneef’s drinks water in the plane.
Breaking News-Haneef takes a leak.
Breaking News-Give me a break.
SEZ-O-Mania:
All the land will one day become a SEZ. Heck, India will itself become a Special Economic Zone. Wow
Riot-O-Mania:
We are country that gave the world kamasutra, yoga, zero and few anti-heroes.
We riot for anything and everything.Probabaly it has become the best way to draw the attention of people whose attention we seek. Breaking news, I said.
Sycophancy-O-Mania:
When I drive around the city, trees, buildings and Posters of leaders greet me.Posters???The leaders profess that they have nothing to do with the beautification drive affected by their supporters. I believe.
Phobias now
Tax-O-Phobia:
We are afraid of paying tax. We must rightly be. The roads have not changed a percent since you first started paying tax. The cost of life has increased. They attribute it to liquidity. So my solution: Suck the liquidity by not paying the taxes. I am a genius.
Sex Education-O-Phobia:
We fear if our children are imparted with sex education, they might ask the parents questions that they have no answer too and then they would have to consult their parents who would have no answer too. Things are fine the way they are. Let us not disturb the balance.
SameSex/OppositeSex Marriage-O-Phobia:
We are afraid of same sex marriages. Acceptable. Who would not be??
But opposite sex marriage?? If a Hindu marries a Christian, Siva and Jesus save the couple.
PractisingWhatWePreach-O-Phobia:
We talk and talk and talk. But when it comes to walking the talk, we are people without legs.
DarkSkin-O-Phobia:
We hate everything dark despite living in a tropical country. We import ladies from Europe to do our advertisements to sell goods to dark people. Irony.
West-O-Phobia:
We fear the west for all things. We follow their practice and then blame them.
Did they ask us to follow??
Truth-O-Phobia:
Nobody likes truth. Even me. Truth is bitter but you got to face it one day.
SuperHero
EarnKarma- A new way to ak for help
The Olympic Torch
Mirror, mirror on the wall
Three srikes and out
The cuckoo sings..
At 10.40 pm
Sugarless
Stranger
Of Manias and Phobias