So you think you can dance??

Why do humans dance?? This is one question which has been bothering me every time I make the mistake of watching any dance reality show or bollywood cinema or any just any party?? What is with un-coordinated hand-hip-foot-head-arm movements that turn all of us into jumping jacks?

Can’t you express your emotions some other way…how does resembling an itchy monkey make you heard? Isn’t that exactly why speech, language was developed? If you are trying to communicate with a varied bunch of equally retarded people who would prefer head-banging as a sign of “I’ve got something to discuss” or “we’ve got to talk” then please go ahead… shake that big head of your as well as your booty…see if I give a nod!

I can’t get over the myriad dancing competition that plagues our nation…be it celebs dancing or little kids masquerading as item girls or just about anybody who has an arm and a leg to shake. Its as if the collective agenda of this nation is not to eradicate poverty, corruption but to start dancing…its as if some pied piper has jammed our airways with some ultrasonic frequency perceived only by twinkle toes…unfortunately everybody seems to have their dancing shoes on … permanently.

We don’t need batti band or set kasab free campaigns, we need ‘stop dancing’ campaigns …where every body that stops shaking their booty gets an honorary membership with the central nervous system board or some shit like that.

And while we are at it, lets ban all forms of dancing …especially on festive occasions… am I being anti-social?? Have you seen people dancing during a baarat …why the hell are they dancing anyways??

If it’s a form of expression…then why isn’t it spontaneous…why does dancing have to come with its trappings of dressing up, getting drunk, getting psychedelic lights on and absolutely no space to move?? How can hundreds of humans want to express their emotions at the same time in a similar fashion?? What are they saying?? Why do people have to coordinate their moves ….why do they have to be in sync?? Didn’t we want our own individuality… are we giving that up by syncing ourselves with somebody else’s expression??

I don’t mind watching or indulging in dancing when I have something to say…how on earth can you even hear yourself think when the speakers are blasting right next to your eardrums exactly at the same time when somebody has poked their elbows in your ribs for the 7th time??

So if you really think that you should dance… please do think again!

What is Love?

Poets, Writers, filmmakers, the good for nothing guy next door to the hot co-worker in the shortest skirts have been asking this question to themselves, to God and to anybody who gives a damn.
During vella days I have also done my share of pondering over it and spent endless productive hours debating about it with various friends, colleagues, drinking buddies, bosses, family members, strangers, cute guys at random places, irritating people at even random places to no logical conclusion.
Yes it is a controversial topic and it changes from person to person, region to region, culture to culture, situation to situation, young to old, drunk to sober, you get the drift? And I’m sure that what we thought as love when we were toddlers and what we know now, transitioning through phases of kids, teenage, youth, etc the meaning as also evolved and transitioned from a mothers soothing look, to a fathers pat on the shoulder, to teachers smile, to a friends high five, to bosses handshake, etc.
Many a times, in-between these various gestures we somehow end up all confused and lost and forget the basic thing of love, of sharing of affection till suddenly somebody somehow sneaks in that gesture which leaves you wondering if you really know anything about it or if you are still fumbling your way through.
You can’t describe it your friends, you can’t explain it … it’s not creepy, not shy, not confused, not sexual, not un-sexual, not hurried....but very comforting, very friendly, very soothing, very reciprocative… something which gets a smile to your face even when you think about it.
And on World Aid’s Day I guess I have to thank Vaspy for adding that smile. No co-relation though.

Lady of Justice demands a New Sword, says it’s rusted like all Verdicts

Mumbai, 26th Nov 2010

In an interview statement, the lady of justice most commonly referred to as Insaaf ki Devi (not to be confused with Rakhi Sawant and her brand of potent insaaf), has demanded a New Sword before she can deliver more verdicts. Citing the accumulated rust on the sword as the chief reason for the delay in justice, she also claims that while the sword is being procured, we might as well get her a new pair of scales and a blindfold.

Explaining the significance of the scales, blindfold and the sword to a hyper television journalist, the lady of justice lost her cool and almost raised the sword at the hyper journalist.

Ram Mohan, who had been following up on the lady of justice’s demands for the last month or half was shocked when the lady raised the selfsame sword at him. “I was just asking how the rusted sword and verdict were co-related when she threatened me” wailed Ram Mohan, clutching his pounding heart.

Later, to clarify that she did not take the law in her own hands, the lady of justice explained the rationale behind her out of character actions in an exclusive interview, “The nerve of that journalist to ask me the co-relation between my sword and verdict?? Next he will be asking the significance of the blindfold. I did what I did to protect my integrity. If he doesn’t know the reason of such simple things that we are taught in schools, he shouldn’t be a journalist at all. Everyone knows that the blindfold is to be impartial while delivering the verdict. The scales are to weigh all the evidence thoroughly and the sword means decisiveness. Court proceedings should not take months or years.”

Explaining how the rusted sword was being a hindrance to justice, she appealed to the Instant Insaaf team to buy her a new sword as she was tired of hearing justice denied is justice delayed slogans every time some group or the other woke up.

Lamenting that the cost of a new sword just is much lower that the cost of maintain lengthy records over so many years, the lady of justice suggested that if she was given a brand new sword every year, she would be able to dispense justice much quickly and prevent repeated appeals to higher courts as a delay tactic used by many to avoid prison or death penalty.

In other unrelated news, Ajmal Kasab has asked for a brand new shirt saying that he deserves one on the anniversary of his career high.

The Big Fat Bump

There it was looking content with its own exalted state, that big fat lump. It thought back to its inception a few seconds back and how it saw the universe through strands of graying hair. Strange as it may seem, it knew its shelf life was limited so it hurried to take in the beauty of the whole world in its limited time.
The faint groans and moans were slowly dying a natural death while this new life was breathing in its first few breaths of adulterated fresh air with a few choicest words thrown in …enough to immediately transform the newly born to an awkward teen in a matter of minutes.
With sudden growth came sudden pain… the freezing pain of a ice being slammed down… stunting its growth… the cold freezing its very existence… it tried to find a corner, an inch from where it could spring forth and escape the cold sting of death….but it was getting flattened down by its own destiny.
It struggled to keep its head up the icy chill…maybe it was time to invoke the secret weapon, maybe it was time to give it a last push…maybe it was its last chance…but push it did…and the fine skin of membrane between its vital fluids and the gray tresses were ruptured…the fluids gushed out with a vengeance but the cold also blew in with a icy resolve. It was the battle of a lifetime…a mere 30 sec life but life it was and it was not going to give in so easily.
As it saw the last drops of its life giving fluid being wiped clean in an antiseptic wipe, it knew that the end was near, that it was time to bid farewell to this wonderful and scary world where the survival was for the fittest. But it resolved to give a little memento …something to remember it by …it left open the womb as a gushing wound for all to see.

Selfish Little

In a country like India were poverty is always on the rise it hurts to see so much of food grain rot in the rains.
You know what... read it in the papers this morning ....makes me wonder why nobody is giving any importance to it... Jessica Lall was murdered and thousands of people who were not affected by her murder directly stayed up all night and lit candles and it felt good to see so many of us mobilizing towards the greater good of the society....but it’s the same janta which is least bothered with all these food grains rotting away....something which affects us directly....will it take a murder of a beautiful lady for us to start a movement again?? Why can’t all of us FB empowered netizens start something a little more worthwhile instead of self indulgent status messages...can we??
But what can we exactly do?? Start another Candle Lit March towards the gateway? Or start a Pink Chaddi campaign?
Well, since I am like the rest of the population who likes armchair theories and couch preaching as well… and don’t have a cause in which I believe in … I can jot down few steps
Option 1:
We all can start a long discussion and hope that it generates enough buzz to come to the notice of sensible and self motivated people who will actually do something about it
Our Fyada: - we will feel good about one little thing and if this movement gains importance we can brag about it to our grandkids someday
Option 2:
We all start a long discussion and urge people to take out some time from their busy and hectic life to start a letter addressed to Ashok Gulati, Director, FCI, who says that "The total storage capacity is 28 million tonnes ... this leads to losses of 10 – 15 per cent. Translate this into value... that is 6 million tonnes of grains damaged, unfit for human consumption ... it amounts to Rs 8,000 to Rs 10,000 crores annually." We mark a copy to the Prime Minister Dr. Manmohan Singh, Minister of Agriculture and Minister of Consumer Affairs, Food & Public Distribution Mr. Sharad Pawar, Minister of Home Affairs Mr. P. Chidambaram. The creative ones amongst us can put together a nice power point presentation and the hard working sincere types can research the facts and figures for it. The enterprising ones can follow up with the above mentioned people to see whether they have read said draft. The ones in media can slyly slip a draft into the editorial meeting and the ad guys can maybe take a dig or so in one their copies.
Our Fyada: Since we are using our core competencies and not leaving our armchairs, we can chat with our friends while doing this. Also, we can splurge on dal and rice and not eat spend agonizing hours wondering what to order for lunch which is healthy, tasty and doesn’t pinch the pockets also… we are after all saving up for that Jimmy Choos and that Tag Heuer. It’s still an inspiring story for the grandkids (kids will listen to anything).
So what will we choose?

GERM OF AN IDEA

As kids, we were all told to stop dreaming and start studying, then when we grew up a bit we were again told to stop dreaming and start slogging at work, then came Christopher Nolan who made a whole 148 min film about how dreaming can be a career option for the new age moviegoer.
I’m not a critic, won’t get into the whole technique, style, content, original or inspired mode… this movie is an original in the sense that it picks up a basic fact that we all know (that dreams can be as real as we want them to be) and added so many layers to it that I’d doubt if anybody in the audience could not relate to it.
Yes, like the matrix it went into an alternate reality where one can feel pain (since pain is in the mind and it is the mind which dreams) but the depiction of the whole realm of reality was a masterpiece.
Movies like Inception, Matrix, A Clockwork Orange and No Smoking which question the basic premise of our existence and throw up new ways in how we have perceived reality are always on my Top 10 list
How many time have we dreamt that we win that inter school sprint to impress the new English teacher or flew to office to be on time for that important presentation or have that witty comeback to the hot guy at the bar….weren’t we all heroes in our own dreams playing out in the labyrinth of our minds like a cinemascope Bollywood feature.
In fact I wrote this post immediately after I saw the movie …on my way back home, I whipped up my Mac book and while I was typing, the words literally flew from my fingertips and arranged themselves on the screen, I also detected a faint whiff of smoke when the typing was happening faster than the speed of light. The sidewalks had shed their shabby, muddy and desolate look and wore a happy Grecian architecture with fancy cars zooming past me. The cat atop of the tallest building noticed my typing and was impressed; she let out a faint meow. Exactly 10 sec after uploading this post, I got 19,275,499 hits on my blog and approximately 9,495, 142 calls from various film critics asking if they can use my post as their review. Then the auto reached by humble studio apartment and I got the ‘kick’ in the form of the revised night fare.
Somehow, I wasn’t sure whether I ‘had’ seen the movie or dreamt it all up! But I do remember paying for the tickets!

My Friends turned me into a RACIST

Yes they did, I am a firm believer of the equality of all mankind…. But I didn’t expect them to twist that very word and make womankind as the exception.
As usual it all happened during the dimly lit, noisy and crowded space of the haven of all things Bacchus and bohemian. The idea was to include the pretty young cousin of our pretty young friend (Ok not so young)…. But the lack of interesting conversation points and the urge to impress the ladies resulted in the age old battle of races.
Many times I have wondered why the common man gets bullied by the ruling class into a war among the races…why can’t we decide for ourselves that these so called differences based on color, caste and creed do not matter in today’s time (maybe did not matter in earlier times also)…why do we get swayed so easily when we listen to high pitched opinions of clueless politicians who are firm believers of the East India company’s “DIVIDE & RULE”. Why we, who are educated and fancy free can’t shake off the shackles of race … why we succumb every time to the call of the racial color.
Seeing one of the pretty young things try to assert her independence by defending her race amongst the juvenile barbs of the rest of the motley crew … by seeing the slight flare of her nostrils every time a joke featuring camels, horses or sand dunes were cracked, I suddenly realized that this is how it must have started eons ago… a friendly bullying due to lack of conversation topics must have created the first rift… and although it was irresistible for me NOT to join in the friendly bashing of a culture not so alien to mine… I was not averse to it either.
And hence I became a RACIST!
But who won the battle of races on our table… well since the Rajputs were outnumbered by the coalition of the East Indian, Parsis and people of mixed breed origin (all minorities) …can I take credit (being a warrior tribal from the some jungles of Assam …or so I would like to believe) I think I can be termed an aborigine and claim first right to the motherland. Hey while I am at it, I want a separate state and my own helipad…what I will have to start a war for this… I can’t just claim it as my birthright?? Says who?? …those annoying Kashmiris, Punjabis, Haryanvis, Rajputs, Gujjus, Marathis, Kanndadigas, Tamilians, Mallus, Telegus, Oriyas, Bongs, Bhaiyas, Biharis, Pahadis, Chinkies…and counting
P.S – What do you call a Parsi Pimp? ….Nari Contracter!

Restraining Order

In this age of dime a dozen Fatwas, PILS, RTI acts and eons of such legal babble, it is quite common to hear the phrase Restraining Order or Gag Order. Everyone, right from a delivery boy of trans-fat laden fast food to the waited at hand and feet heir knows the legal parlance made with a quest to confuse.

After immersing myself in the dusty and busy bylanes of Google and Wikipedia, at the cost of much needed sleep and an urge to dash to the toilet for empting myself of bodily fluids every 15 minutes, I completed my research and restrained myself to jump about and celebrate.

But what does this Restraining Order do? According to the heavy and dusty law books - A restraining order or order of protection is a form of legal injunction. The term is most commonly used in reference to domestic violence, harassment, stalking or sexual assault.

While there are differences from state to state or case to case, the bottom line is for the abuser to stay away from someone, their home, their workplace or their school and to stop contacting them. Victims generally also can ask the court to order that all contact, whether by telephone, notes, mail, fax, email or delivery of flowers or gifts, is prohibited.

I have been always been accused of being restrained in my behavior…in the sense that my emotions don’t display themselves in full force. This has always been at variant with my self-belief of being a highly sensitive person.

So when a restraining order was slapped on me by my seniors, I like most Indians jumped in glee …finally here is my road to glory, atleast now everyone will remember me with that faint aftertaste of disdain…. “Oh…she, the one with a restraining order….she was horrible at her work, we all thought she was gonna get under the pressure and with like the others, but she managed to do the unthinkable….like a rabbit out of the hat, she pulled a restraining order and is now the toast of all and sundry…remind me to ask her how she managed to do it”

But I am slightly confused about the Do’s and Don’ts of this order. According to my instructions, I am …

1. Not supposed to interact with the victim
2. Not supposed to make eye contact with the victim
3. Not supposed to greet the victim in a friendly fashion
4. Not supposed to breathe in the general direction of the victim

But does that mean that ….

1. I cannot offer them a hand if they slip on a banana peel (of course they will, I will put the peel for them)
2. I cannot get up and offer a chair in a crowded room (after having made sure that the room has just one less chair than needed)
3. I cannot crack jokes within earshot of the victim
4. I cannot re-interrupt the interruption caused by the victim

Maybe I should just take a hike and dismiss all these as playful imagination as a result of a hectic and unpredictable soirée of Khel Khel Mein.

Dwarfed by Arzee

I have always believed that when a character is created, the inspiration comes from someone real. It could be a friend, an acquaintance, a neighbor or it could be the self.
After reading Arzee the Dwarf written by Chandrahas Choudhury, I am sure that there exists a real Arzee….has to… how can anyone describe a fictional character so real…that if you turn your head, you can actually see him walking past your window, head bowed low muttering to himself. You almost leave your book and start following to hear what he is muttering about… is he making excuses to give to Deepakbhai … that quintessential honcho from the slums …or is he planning to trick Phiroz into playing the Babur himself.
Arzee’s dilemma is as real as the character… no saving the world or becoming a superhero…but getting a raise and marrying a decent girl …that’s all what Arzee wants… but does he get it… is it a happy ending… we will never know…like we don’t know in real life… Chandrahas weaves the plot as gently as he could …never going far from the main character… always seeing things from his perspective.
How many times we are subjected to prose that talks to us through other characters to take the story forward and we all believe that it is essential so that the reader is not bored and there can be some variety …but who needs variety when the central character is so strong. We don’t miss seeing the secondary characters perspective …but we would have liked to know a little bit more about Mobin, Arzee’s brother and Shireen.
No one makes such profound statements anymore...at least in writing...sample this "Love is the true home of the imagination. Requited love is the paradise raised from nothing but a pair of synchronized imaginations!". This sentence defines what the book is.
From the way Arzee the Dwarf was written, I am but waiting for the next book by the author. However, I do believe that this debut novel is not the only piece of published work. If I am not mistaken, a collection of middles was published by the same author and the famous Grandfather and Cronies were created. I’m sure if I search through my haphazardly arranged piles of books I will be able to trace a copy out; which goes to show that the initial days of writing which was greatly influenced by the great P. G. Wodehouse has metamorphosed into a prose full of humour, pathos and delightful vocabulary.

Labour Pains!

Ever wondered about the mysteries of life and death and how various cultures deal with it. Some cultures celebrate death and give the departed soul the best party ever. Others are thoughtful enough to pack all the essential items with the corpse for their last journey. For the wondrous moment of new life, people donate their fortune to the less fortunate ones, some light up the newborn’s life with Cigars; others do elaborate rituals to please their Gods.
Such various customs and culture specific rituals must have been duly noticed and noted down by some anthropologist for their research/thesis work which the common junta ignores generally ignores… imagine reading about such useless info when the antics of our cricketers, movie stars and wannabe reality stars are much more juicer…but I digress.
If someone is an avid Bollywood fan and has grown up in the eighties where Bollywood followed the tried and tested formula of revenge, then they might have inkling to the ambiguous meandering of my mind. Sample this…
The father has been killed (or confined) by the bad guys and the wife who somehow escapes from the den of the bad guys and runs away not because she can’t bear the torture (or lecherous stares of the extras) but she has to give birth to the hero of the film so that he can avenge the family and have a happy ending. Regular fare…some even went on to become hits …but that one scene…where the hero is actually born….it’s supposed to be a very dramatic one… and is often depicted as dark… with rain and thunderstorm and the wails of the pregnant mother who thrashes about so much that the art director must have a standby set ready just in case. The ‘mother’ is drenched in sweat and tears roll down her eyes and the scene seems so long that you automatically start praying for the baby to come out so that the movie can go on…
But why do our filmmakers depict childbirth in such morbid and melancholy way… why is the beginning of child birth always associated with the mother wishing that she was a monk?
In comparison, American film and TV (which is so cool…not to be ignored) rarely projects child birth in such dejected and macabre way unless the plot requires it. It will then be an exception, not the norm.
Is it something to do with the healthcare policies of both the nations… one is developed where all its citizens have basic rights to medical facilities and do not view the process of childbirth as that big a deal, while the other is still struggling to provide basic facilities for the expectant mother. Girls grow up dreading the process of childbirth and with convoluted theories of sex … Agreed schools nowadays have sex education, but imagine how many years of viewing the agony of childbirth in popular cinema is etched in a girls mind….can a textbook with 100 marks of test marks erase that imagery from the easily impressionable mind?
For a nation with more than a billion headcount…that’s a lot of labour pain.

The number 9

Ever realized that we are in Kalyug which is the 9th era of civilization, or that there are 9 celestial bodies in Indian Astrology or that Navratri is festival which lasts for 9 days, or that there are 36 chromosomes in an individual which when divided by 9 yields 4 which in turn is the different stages of one’s life as defined by the Manu Smriti.

Apparently the number 9 is quite the mystery number in Indian mythology but not only so… it has equal claim to fame in Chinese (The Chinese Netherworld supposedly has nine rivers in a nine-headed dragon. Also, ancient Chinese believed that the sky consisted of nine parts, the earth had nine separate countries, and each of those countries had nine mountain ranges), Greek (there were 9 muses, responsible for creation of the arts by way of inspiration. They were the daughters of Zeus, king of the gods), Egyptian (the Ennead was a group of nine gods and goddesses. Before passing onto the afterlife, a person had to be judged as worthy by the Ennead) mythology to name a few.

This mystery number plays an equal amount of significance in mathematics as well… it is the last digit before the start of double-digit numbers. This feature is the reason the number nine has certain unique mathematical properties, such as the digits of every multiple of 9 adding up to 9 or another multiple thereof. For e.g – 2x9 = 18…1+8=9; 3x9=27…2+7=9.

In the Natyashastra, there are 9 bhavas or emotions Love, Mirth, Pity, Anger or Wrath, Heroism, Terror or Fear, Astonishment or Surprise, Tranquility or Peace and Disgust collectively called as the Navras.

Seeing the importance of this heavenly number, I tried my best to fit it into my life….so here goes some possible (read lame) connections
1. When I was 9 years old, something important happened that changed my entire life….maybe …just couldn’t think of any dramatic event…it was too long ago…

2. When I turned 18 (1+8=9), I got my driver’s license and voters ID…as did other 18 year olds…hmmm

3. I have 9 close friends (if I don’t count the rest 11)

4. I worked for an organization called tv 9!!

5. I can prepare chicken in 9 different ways (really I can…lemon chicken, pepper chicken, chicken pot roast with red wine, chicken chilly, garlic chicken, ginger chicken, goan chicken curry, chicken do pyaza and chicken butter masala)

6. I stand tall at 5 feet 9 inches (if my heels are 5 inches)

7. It’s been 9 years since I have stayed on my own.

8. My first big purchase out of my own hard earned money was a watch for dad which cost me Rs. 3,600…the numbers adds up to 9!

9. Ok last try….A chance remark by a friend who was just explaining how I have managed to build walls around me and that it becomes extremely difficult for anyone interested in me to get to know me. He further elucidated that one has to unlock 8 doors to get to the 9th and last door and only then would I really be relaxed and comfortable. Please note, not 5 not 15 not 10 but 9 doors!

Even though I probably need regular psychiatric treatment or possibly the Chinese torture for subjecting a fellow human being to such rambling of the mind….but I think the last or the 9th point does make some sense.

Can I expect 9 comments???

Tears!

Slowly silently they flow, traversing through various layers of makeup and emotions. They have a mission too… they need to know if they are the real McCoy’s or cheap replicas found at the click of a reality camera crew.
Like everything under the sun, they also have a fixed rate of growth and undergo yearly appraisals. Nowadays with high level of stress, they are also frequently under the scanner of a shrink who will analyze them and rate them and label them. Some of them are starting a union against such random commercialization of the humble fluid. So they have put together a list of the various forms that they can manifest itself and hereby declare that all others are fake!
1. The Silent Trickle – Associated with the strong and silent types, this happens under extreme emotions, usually in public…often without the help of any other bodily movements as the entire nervous system concentrates to stop the trickle.

2. The Unstoppable Gush-These ones always come with loud sound effects which some may call crying but is actually a lot of incoherence. It is always advisable to have someone nearby to hold and comfort otherwise it dies it’s naturally death in 6-7 sec.

3. The Slow Drip or the Chinese Drip – This is usually reserved for people who have a huge load to carry and have no time to express their real self so caught up they are in day to day existence. Like the Chinese water torture, they torture they come to haunt in regular intervals.

4. The Treacherous Torrent – This is somewhat similar to the Unstoppable Gush but is much greater in magnitude, it can cause the heartbeats to completely stop.

5. Crocodile Ooze – This is the common variant that everyone is exposed to. It is easily acceptable and identified. However, it is only effective in getting attention, for real catharsis one has to try the above four.

Of course various permutations and combination of the five can always happen and each of the five sects have their own level of intensities.
These Socio-chemical fluids which emotions bring forth are a rather strange breed. One never knows when they will strike and when they will fade. The anticipation is enough to reduce one to tears. But like most emotions, they are just looking for an outlet …to escape …to breakout from the confines of these so called emotions… coz once they reach the atmospheric world they can either sublime into vapor or seep right back into the folds of the epidermis. It is their choice.
Unlike humans, who cannot choose which way to shed them… when one really wants to go full throttle, the silent’s trickle out…when one wants to hush the trickles, the torrents are unleashed. It’s like they have a mind of their own. Only the crocodile is submissive. It listens and does exactly as it is told. But then who wants a crocodile anyways.
Just for that one torrent to wash away all the worries, just for that one gush to unclog all the memories… so that new ones can be stored… so that happy ones can be displayed … so that one be free.

The End is Near

Yeah the end…not only is it here…but also near… no no I am not trying my hand at some cheap alliteration. It’s just a fallout of a long conversation with a friend who goes long back and is far away…a long way off the pacific so to speak.
Well, over ISD calls arguing the case of networking and or the need for small talk, we touched the topic whether the end is what matters or is it the journey? Quoting management theories my friend just reinforced the fact that all such theories are actually bullshit pointers filled with jargons and only serve the purpose of confusing the other person. The person at the receiving end, not making head or tail out of it ends up buying the theory often at an exorbitant cost (cash or kind) and falls into the trap of success, chaos and rat race.
But I digress; I am not here to do some MBA bashing (which incidentally is my favorite sport ;)) but to acknowledge the fact that this time it does make some sense.
Yes, in a way the ‘END’ is what everyone or say most people have in mind when they start a venture be it business, social or artistic in nature. But it’s not always the end that makes most people strive towards making the venture a success…sometime success lies in completing the journey, sometime the journey/process is so exciting that the end doesn’t matter.
We are all born with one certain thing… death… we know that it will happen, but does one fling himself off the 31st floor of a high-rise or sleep on railway tracks or send a personal invitation to the likes of Kasab to reach the end. No, we traverse each day learning new things, experiencing various emotions so that when we reach death we can find some other end. The journey towards death is what matters most, more than death itself.
When anything is given life, the end of that life is death…but the blooming of the flower, to the chirp of a bird, to the gush of a waterfall, to the roll of the sea, to the stoic silence of the mountains, to the bounding jump of the hare, to the rat race of the humans, is but only the by-product of that end. And if the flower attracts the pollen carrying bee to pass on the emotions along with the pollen, if the bird chirps forth a tune to the hearts of a lovelorn poet, if the waterfall excites the fish to swim in dangerous water, if the sea calls out to the surfers, if the mountains beckon the hermit…then they do so with the hope that their emotions, their intrinsic nature, their being doesn’t end with their physical death… that someday there will be some flower, some bird, some water fall, some sea, some mountain, some animal, some human somewhere which will not dwell on the impending death but will carry their legacy forward thereby making them mortal… thereby rubbishing the fear of the end.
Because, the end is always near…. but with each end comes a beginning as well.

Ape No More

Darwin has cracked his brains to answer questions about evolution....many have believed in it and equal number of people have rubbished this theory. Many theories, books and movies later, it is still a viable topic of discussion... we all want to know where we come from and where we will go.

But why?? Why is it so important to know about our origins...so that we can right the wrongs or is it just plain curiosity... or is it to live in a delusion of immortality?

According to some civilizations, all matter is made up of energy which vibrates at a certain frequency. Now there is a universal being (I refrain from using the word GOD here) which vibrates at a certain frequency also. This universal being (found across all microspheres and ecosystems) attracts similar frequencies towards itself to gobble it up (some call the process Nirvana). Now it is destiny (fact of life) that each and every matter will wind up being gobbled by this universal being (it’s kind of a food chain in the cosmospiritual sense) and will be reformed as some other matter with some other frequency, since matter can neither be created nor destroyed but changes its form from one to the other.

Our wise old men, didn't want to change...even if they knew that it was the ultimate truth....so they devised all kinds of schemes to keep the human mind occupied...these schemes were mainly the emotions of love, hate, jealousy, pride, etc and their subsequent actions of war, poetry, economics, entertainment. This prevented humans to focus on their vibrations and indeed our vibrations have been so muddled that we ourselves do not know about it.

We have started aping each other in terms of attitude, behavior and style and refuse that there is a certain job that we have to do.

It’s like the story of a toothbrush...with modern technologies, the toothbrush can flip back, come in attractive colours, have a part for cleaning the tongue and even is battery operated...but does it do what its empirical nature tells it to do...albeit brush the teeth? Until and unless a toothbrush doesn't do that, then it is not one.

In our rush to theorize evolution, have we forgotten that the current Darwinian theory of natural selection is keeping us from the bigger picture...maybe evolution means being gobbled into this universal being and reforming into a different matter, not re-engineering our DNA's to keep us immortal.

The Mayas and Incas understood this...and so the whole civilization vanished leaving behind the wonders that is Macchu Picchu...maybe someday I will. But what will I leave behind.....my blog??? ahem....

(Dedicated to Sumit Vaswani for starting this topic)

Not A Complete Loser

That's the only thought which is going through my head right now (thanks to the pep talk by Vatty)...on the day on which my parents, friends, siblings, colleagues and lots of other people, who may have had the misfortune of crossing my path, all come together and brace themselves to make an effort to be nice to me without actually cringing ... coz its that one day which I can totally claim to be my day (so what if I do have to share it with Vishal, Amrish, Hitler, Babita, Mamta Kulkarni to name a few)...its still my day... its the day that the Gods and my parents in their eternal wisdom decided to unleash me on this planet... so that I could spread some cheer (or so they thought) to this world... little did they know that I would completely disregard their plans and have my own agenda... only to realize that my agenda is not really an agenda ...its more of a reaction to this whole thing called "Life".

I cant but help reflecting on the years gone by (always happens when a few drops of old monk passes through my throat) and have come to the conclusion that I haven't done anything worthwhile....don't have a plan ahead... don't have a bank balance to impress anyone... haven't been there for my parents and family or friends... don't know where I am going professionally... love life is non-existent... don't believe in community service/social service... don't have a cause worth dying for... the list is actually endless... but have realized that I have done one thing right and that is, I have somehow managed to have really awesome friends... Friends who believe in me when I have given up all hope... Friends who trust me to always crack a bad joke and make the world a pleasant place... Friends who don't give up on me... Friends who push me to try harder, literally ... Friends who love me... Friends who plan a expected surprise bday bash with chocolate cake ...

I know I am not dying and one should reserve such sentiments for the last breath... but I actually want to thank all my friends for being my friends... coz I realized that I don't say it often... So, Pinky, Mousumi, Anu, Cyril, Shipra, Vatsala, Guddi, Serene, Siddhu, Mayur, Partha, Charu, Reema, Ruhi, Sunil, Shruti, Rachita, Ruchika, Sanga, Ashu, Sam, Ajat, Deepika, Neha, Vineet, Gaurav, Amrish, Amit, Sanju, Vishal, Preeti, Baba, Runa, Utkalika, Wayne, Sumit... thanks sooooooo much guys for being my Friend... Love you always.

Crap, this bday thingy really makes one senti and stuff... must be old age... or must be the Old Monk!

Happiness is Unhappiness in another form

Last night when a friend asked me to go on a weekend drive, and I refused it wasn’t a great deal to my otherwise unimportant life. I have no regrets going on the drive, it wasn’t a first for me nor will it change my life drastically. What was dramatic was the reason I cited for refusing the proposal. It went something like this “I don’t want to go because the drive will make me feel happy, and I want to feel sad which will propel me to shed my laziness and overcome my shortcomings”
I didn’t believe that these words were actually coming out from my mouth… who talks like this?? More importantly who reasons like this?? Do we actually crave unhappiness over happiness? Because that’s exactly what I was saying…to be happy later on, I need to be unhappy right now… but we all know that later on is always in the distant future…so effectively I was craving unhappiness and deriving some kind of pleasure from it.
We all know that Pathos forms the basic plot of any good story, but I had never imagined me to be at the center of all the wallowing and hedonism. We never say we are happy NOW…we always talk about it either in retrospect or in a futuristic manner.
We all say “I was happy as a Kid” or “Last week when I went to Gaurav’s Bday and met all my friends, it was the happiest day in my life” or “When I turn 35 and still have my good likes, I will be terribly happy with my beautician”.
So, all these marketing jargons that are lobbed on us in the name of advertising actually do not spell happiness, manufacturers are selling unhappiness and we are falling for it hook, line and sinker. Do we actually need that new LCD TV to remind us that our life will now be happier when our pockets are lighter and when we actually don’t need to be happy??
Why can’t there be a product that goes “Want to be really happy, buy our new energy drink that is made out of sewage and will give you thousands of diseases for that everlasting unhappiness”…or some such thing.
This is part of my series “Reflections” and will have many more revelations and insights into the wonderful process called Life.

Karthik Calling China

Finally Indian cinema has come of age… for we have finally started to acknowledge the impact of our tyrannical neighbors on our psyche. We have made an entire move all of 2 hrs some odd min to espouse the characteristics of a foreign made electronic instrument! Now that’s what I really call a great idea… who wants to watch wishy-washy sob stories of estranged families or revenge dramas or candy floss romances.
Don’t get me wrong, I loved this movie… it was shot well, acting was good and the music also left its mark… a well rounded off production… the story was actually ‘hatke’ ….but (ther is always a but isn’t ther ;)) I personally found it hard to believe that the main protagonist was a Chinese telephone (there…I’ve given the whole story away) and cant stop thinking about all the various spoofs that can be made… remembering my comedy show days… I should call Varun and tell him to spoof this on Jay Hind!

Baby Pratyasha is an Angel!

Look Ma, I even have wings, not the fake wings that the teachers used to put on us for school concerts…but real ones, which can flap… I even got a wand… only it does no magic like Harry Potters, but every time I move it around, tiny stars fall around it like a trail. I have a lovely white dress that never gets dirty even if I roll around on the ground…but then there is no ground! We are on some kind of fluffy, snowy surface, like clouds.

But Ma, the best part is that there is no homework… I don’t have to bother about class tests and exams. But there was this wrinkled lady who reminded me of our geography teacher who showed me my patch of the cloud, she looked very strict. I guess even here there are some rules and regulations.

The rules are not many, just that I have to keep smiling the whole day…now c’mon that’s not at all difficult… when I realize that I don’t have to sit for any board exams or compete with my own friends and random strangers to get into college, vie with girls to get a guy, struggle to get to work in the increasing traffic, manage to squeeze in a little time for you in my increasingly hectic adult life… I rather be here and smile away to glory.

Although, I will miss going to school and meeting my friends and playing hopscotch with them (yeah I know we never played that… we have moved on to video games and stuff…but it’s nice sentimental stuff).

But the best part is that, I can get to watch you as you go about your work…I can see you as you fold my arms over my chest…I can see the love that you had for me… I can see how tired you are, I can see how you need some rest…I think its best that God decided to get me here… at least you will get some rest.

Get some sleep Ma; go on take a nap while you are waiting for the flight. I will watch over you like you have done countless times, I will not let anyone disturb you. And I will always be smiling … for you, forever.

Smile and wave …smile and wave…smile and wave…hey stars fall out of my hands when I wave… this is so cool… do they fall out of my feet when I walk… but hey, I don’t have to move my legs to walk….i’m actually gliding across…ma, look I can glide… ma, look….

Single on V-Day??

Guy 1: Hey, wassup, how are you these days?? Long time no see, eh…how about catching up one of these days?

Me: Hmmm, nice of you to call… but I’m kinda busy…maybe later… (Thinking…strange how I got this call after so long…oh its V-day tomo…no wonder… booty call)

Guy 2: Hey babes…how about a movie tomo??

Me: Sounds nice, which one?

Guy 2: You choose, we’ll pick up the DVD, snuggle in with a beer, what say?

Me: Ok, I’ll call you back; Mom’s on the other line … (wow that was quite direct)

Girl 1: Hey babes, you know what tomo is… so my guy has planned this nice romantic thing for me, but his cousin is visiting from out of town, so why don’t you two hang out so that I get some alone time with my guy?

Me: what, you really think I would…

Girl 1: why not, you are single, doing nothing on V-day and this cousin is not bad, works in an IT company, earns decent…good talker… what’s the problem??

Problem??? The problem is that I don’t want to… why is it difficult to accept that there can be people who can be all by themselves and still have loads of fun. One doesn’t have to be with someone to experience the meaning of life.

Besides, I think its more about not being projected as a loner which makes people scramble for their phonebooks and call up long lost forgotten crushes expecting something magical to happen. Wake up, its not a movie, if the person hasnt responded earlier, few chances are that s/he would now.

And frankly speaking, coming from a small town where there were few hallmarked card shops, figuring out that Valentine’s Day even existed was only for those whose I.Q was more than 180. Besides, seeing my friends getting pink teddy bears, roses, was not my idea of fun… I mean what’s with the teddy bears… I don’t like them… would never have one in my room… coz they never stop S-T-A-R-I-N-G. Besides I am not a nature person… that means I don’t go about harping on global warming to all and sundry or planting trees, I do my bit for nature by not picking flowers or accepting them …especially red roses… now if they are orchids, it’s another story, Likewise for chocolates.

But why do I have to give up my space and share of the bed for these things, I can easily buy them myself… I didn’t diligently avoid the mush to get into it later… yes sir, I chose to avoid the mush… like some people choose to be constantly be in one relationship after the other.

Does that mean that I am a loser… if I don’t have any special plans on the super hyped V-day? Of course I would like to be fussed over and made to feel special, but if that happens only on one particular day of the year, then I rather depend on myself to fuss over.

How about you fussing over someone else for a change… it’s not always about taking, sometimes it’s good to give too… quips in a smart ass sorry excuse for a friend (read sam)… well yes I would like to fuss over somebody once in a while… but I would rather fuss over myself… there I said it… I want to fuss over myself rather than somebody else, as I can handle my own expectations better rather than somebody else expectation … which mostly runs like this…

• don’t look at another man,
• don’t think about another man,
• don’t think, period
• always look like you are dressed up for the kill even when you are actually nursing a bad cold and 102 degrees fever,
• be nice to his parents,
• don’t be a bitch to his exes’,
• be a buddy to his friends,
• play the perfect host to his boss,
• love sports,
• Put up with his burps and farts…
• Be a good chef, but accept that you are 2^nd to his mom’s cooking
• Always clean up after him
• Never nag about hygiene

Well, I rather be with myself thank you. It’s much simpler that ways, no one, no expectations, no blowing up hard earned money on pink teddies, no getting hurt later and no picking up the pieces, no moving on.

The three E’s of a relationship - Experience, Experiment, and Expectation (thanks to remo) always lead to the 4^th E… “EX”.

Just that I miss all the great offers and discounts that stores these days offer…maybe the new marketing trend will be a single day!!

Only 1493 Tigers left… Save the man!

The ad says Only 1493 Tigers left… save the tiger… but I say there are only 1129 Men left… who is going to save them?
What only 1129 Men…aren’t we a one billion plus country…well yeah…but where are the men?
The dozen that I know don’t constitute a man…. 7 percent are automations….they are programmed to get up and go to work and then party after work. No No, it’s not a new age phenomenon… this robotization of man… you can see it all the way through their lives. They were wired to be automations right from their birth…they went to school, college, professional college, work, marriage, kids, etc like clockwork… it was as if their meter was on since the time they were born.
Many don’t even question the purpose of being in this rat race… they are busy making investment plans for the future, not realizing that the future that they are seeking will always lie …well in the future.
Who will save the man?

Patriotism, Where art Thou??

60 years of the republic….and we get a new version of a music video to show… that was one of the major stories of the nation’s foremost newspaper.
Republic day has always been special for me… as a small town schoolgirl….the day always started with the whole family glued to the television set…watching the parade being telecast live from New Delhi where the president takes the salute.
The ultimate aim for me in those days…to be part of the parade and win bravery awards, from the hands of the President, the highest authority in our country. Many days were spent in scheming how to put my elder sister in life threatening situations so that I could come and save her and win the coveted award. But these were only day dreams fuelled by overzealous empty mind.
Our hometown also had a mini parade on the republic day, where various schools would participate and march past the chief minister (oh the joys of democracy…if not the President, I had the humble CM)…winning the best platoon for the school was a good enough high… nothing made me happier or prouder than carrying the trophy back to the school, flaunting it all along on the way, teasing the rival schools with it.
That competitiveness has not surfaced since those school times again.
When I got a chance to move out from my parent’s home and stayed in Delhi… among my to-do lists was to see the Republic day parade in person at the India gate itself…alas, four years in Delhi and the only trip to India gate was for Ice-cream after late night parties. When I did express a desire to go watch the parade, my new found big city friends, made so much fun of my small town aspirations, that I completely dropped the idea of patriotism leave alone the parade. Besides, where was the time?? I had to earn my daily bread…make a mark in my career, that was how I was going to do my bit for the country, not by watching some silly parade… grow up girl, I said to myself and glugged down another drink to celebrate the republic day with my colleagues.
Half a decade later, in another new city, exploring my own independence, I came to the conclusion, that it is idle chatter for bored housewives and retired government officials… no one bothers about the parade which still is celebrated with as much pomp and show as it was some 25 years ago…many kids don’t even care about it… they are more interested in their PSP, WII or any such abbreviations.
But then these are the same kids, who will gladly raise awareness through their posts on twitter and facebook, and light thousands of candles for some cause or the other. Can I blame them then that they don’t know a Kuchipudi from a Khathakali …since the Republic day parade among other things did improve the general knowledge of us kids by telling us about the various traditions and customs of the other states… by making us sing the same sur in all our songs?
I watched the parade on TV after a long time and still had goosebumps for some reason… even though I knew that this is just another celebration for India… it will go back to its mudslinging and fighting in the parliament… it will go back to its defense land scams … or some new controversy with Mr. Babble mouth on twitter…the tableaux will be discarded… the children thanked and handed over a certificate of participation which will gather dust somewhere… the President shaking her white overcoat and finally getting the joke that the Korean guest had said… things will become normal… after the showcase of patriotism, things will be back to being the same.
But why the goosebumps??
Maybe because 60 years of the republic and half of that spent in my cynicism… still the nation has not done that bad …the ways to express it may have changed… but like religion, patriotism is best expressed individually.
P.S – I always wanted to know if there is any prize for the thousands of audience who come to watch the Republic day parade at India Gate… braving the Delhi Winter, early in the morning, with 6 inches of makeup…who are these people… nobody I know has ever been to such a shindig…who are these people… can we start a fund for them…the real patriots??

I was rejected

For the first time, I felt very humbled in my life… and all for a few kilos….I had just been thinking that I need to lose all that flab from my midriff… and while I am at it, maybe work on my upper arms …few inches less would be nice….but the attendant killed my self-image… no not just killed, but twisted the knife also.
I had thought that I was invincible …what with my never say die attitude and positive outlook and staunch faith in the adage that “karm kar phal ka asha mat rakh”…so then how did I get rejected… I am the perfect modern day single independent woman…who has the world at her feet…how dare he reject me??
All I wanted was to go and do my two-bit for this kid who was battling blood cancer… she needed blood… blood I had… am human ....not an avatar….but apparently not…my blood was not good enough.
I never felt so humbled in my life… it was as if God was saying… “Smruti, you have been taking things for granted… especially your life… you have had it easy… now is the time to pull up your socks… let this be a warning”.
And I really am a bit scared… what if my other friends and colleagues were like me…then the poor kid would have not gotten her doze of O+ve, just because we modern day independent people like our daily tipple… luckily it was not an emergency situation…. Luckily my friends are not as cocky and stupid as me.
That’s it, I have decided, I will try and lead a much healthier life…will exercise not to lose the flab, but to increase my stamina and will try and kick my other bad habits.
Thank you, Anu, Mariam, Unni, Ankush, Vatsala, Priya, Sidharth and Radhika for coming to my rescue…and thank you God for sending that attendant to save my life.

Of Movies, Musings and Mixed Feelings

After a long time I watched 2 movies back to back--- Raat gayi, Baat Gayi? and 3 idiots… now am feeling compelled to write about them. It’s not a film review…I am not qualified to be a film critic (although as my friend Varun says, being a film critic is now the “in” thing, everybody with a blog is one!). I just want to write whether I got my money’s worth in those 6 hours that I spent in the theatre munching popcorn.
Everybody has some expectations when they go for a movie… my expectation is to be entertained by the audio visuals playing on the screen –be it through comedy, action, drama, romance, etc… as long as I feel that I didn’t waste my time, as long as I wish that I was rather doing something else, I wouldn’t dish a movie.
No No, I am not dishing either of the movies… both were good … I didn’t feel like I was wasting my time. Although one was a slice of life peppered with some smart observations and witty repartees, the other was larger than life with great locations. I remember Rajkumar Hirani’s munnabhai series and how I’d loved them and I was equally impressed with this one… he manages to take the simplest, everyday theme (loved the argument of the pen is space… many students do ask that including me) and turn it into a magnum opus with ease (barring the recent credit controversies). That’s what I call telling a story is (compared to a recent blockbuster that I saw that had everyone raving about which was to me only a techfest with all fancy special effects and nothing more).
However, I am a little concerned why the other movie Raat Gayi, Baat Gayi only had 6 other people in the theatre as compared to all the idiots who crammed up the entire auditorium for the other one. RGBG was also a story well told, however I guess, it was a niche idea…appealing only to those who lead such lives, there was nothing aspirational about any of the characters…nobody would have liked to be the suave and successful Rahul Kapoor (Rajat Kapoor), the wimpy, sleazy, cute Amit (Vinay Pathak), the discreet Saxsena (Dillip Tahil) juxtaposed with their respective wives housewife seeking her identity Mitali (Iravati Harshe), dealing with wayward husband Nandita (Anu Menon) or the resigned trying to fit in Jolly (Navneet Nishaan) or the catalyst amongst them all the mysterious, sexy, seductive Sophiya/Archana (Neha Dhupia). Although deep down, many would have identified themselves with atleast one of the characters, few would want to be known as one.
Both the stories were told using past and present tense, both the movies had good actors who did justice to the characters they were portraying, however one is successful and the other is not. And the only reason that I find is that where one holds up a mirror and shows the reality as it is, the other wraps up the mirror in layers of hope. Where both end with a positive and hopeful note, one does it subtlety the other with fanfare.
And that is the difference Mr. Bhagat, whereas your book was witty, cynical and concentrated on the lives of the protagonists; the movie was funny, hopeful and sent a message to all through the protagonist. Although, I don’t know if justifies the makers/producers of the movie to dole out credits at the beginning or at the end, it is purely their call, since IT IS their product.
However, two things which made me feel a bit cheated were the Sanskrit shloks about farting and the drive from Delhi to Leh…just for the fact that the very same shloks were popular during my salad days (I would have liked to see some new forms) and the drive to Manali to Leh is 20 hours backbreaking journey and having done that recently was a bit upset with the ease with which the 2 idiots found the 3 rd one without any altitude sickness!
The mixed feelings are completely not related to the movies or musings on the same… they are about my own self…which is so selfish that it would rather enjoy watching the movie instead of going back home to be in time for a bro, who is tired after a long vigil at the hospital to nurse a ten year olds battle against cancer. Is that the power that Mr. Hirani wove over me and millions of other audiences to get the cash registers on fire or is it my dysfunctional life that finds solace in celluloid than in real life?