Came across this quote the other day and I can't resist putting it down here because I second this. The quote isn't word to word but I've tried to convey very simply what it said:
It isn't a great idea to always fall back on an expert. They are so fixed with the idea of perfection they seem to have achieved their own way, that they are never flexible to try out more innovative methods and create something new
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
And she said
"The past is a metaphor for a person who continues to be my memory"
"It was a moment that lasted eternity"
"It was a moment that lasted eternity"
THE COMING OF AGE OF BETIS AND BAHUS ON INDIAN TELEVISION
Today I want to do what every girl on Indian roads fears hearing and something my father has given up over the years trying to teach me. It’s the ear piercing, often embarrassing but joyous sound of the long drawn whistle. Stick your fingers into your mouth ladies and cheer for your own kind. Why ? If you watched last evenings telecasts of two soaps on Colours (yes, yes I may be the World Cinema doting filmmaker but I like my dose of desi melodrama) ‘Yeh Pyaar Na Hoga Kam’ (‘This Love Shall not Weaken’) and ‘Na Aaana is Des me Lado’ (‘Don’t Step into this Land, my young girl’) you’d know.
The subservient, submissive, sidelined female characters (often the underdogs of the director’s twisted plots) are speaking up and how! I have to confess that my interest in certain soaps - which I would have squirmed watching if I wasn’t living with my parents – has only been growing healthily rather than nurturing the distaste and disappointment my peer group displays for the same shows I’m so euphoric about today. I don’t blame them, after all the ‘bahu –saas’ (daughter in law and mother in law) dominated thrash that Balajai Productions churned out was enough to have my generation turn to American soaps (which of course seem worse to my parents considering their high quotient of adult humour) which have come to epitomize our lifestyle so to speak (Thank you Star World!)
When I’m joyous I often wax eloquent instead of coming to the point so back to the original topic! Today’s evening of television viewing made me stand up and clap for the silent suffering female characters who’ve been victims of humiliation in public and deprived of their rights for way too long. In the first soap that I’ve quoted a character called Rashmi, a Bengali girl who comes to Lucknow on the request of her fiancé Madhav, a Brahmin Lucknow based boy(and hence all the more reason for his parents to dislike this match), puts her foot down after having been publicly humiliated by her to be in-laws repeatedly. When the boy pleads with her to not break up their engagement, she questions his love since he seems to be helpless in the face of his tyrannical parents. And before she steps out (drums roll this is what I was amazed by) she confronts her fiance’s mother. “ You are the one who should be most ashamed”, she says ‘Being a woman you have done injustice to another. Have you not been a daughter and bride yourself once? You have insulted the rights and feelings of a woman yourself. You are not capable of giving birth therefore to a girl child because you don’t deserve one. Your family has never had and will never have a girl child ever!’, she curses the vamp and walks out with her parents (whose humiliation she hasn’t been able to digest so far leave alone hers). So no more laachar bebas ladki who is betrothed to handsome US returned ladka and has to marry him because after all she loves him. And oh! Women in love have to always sacrifice their happiness don’t they? (so preaches the great Indian soap jamboree).
Second, the Haryana based soap ‘Na Aana Is Des Mey Laado’ which claims to stands against all social injustice that is meted out to women (including female foeticide, illegal second marriages etc etc) had its once spineless beloved younger son character called Raghav almost marry a girl his mother orders him to. This despite the fact that he’s already married to Sia (the apparent protagonist who’s vowed to bring justice to this village by fighting the injustice meted out by Ammaji, the evil matriarch of Virpur but is more busy shedding tears for Raghav who she still loves and hopes will stand up for her). The ‘varmala’ (exchange of garlands) is done and it’s time for the moment that our Indian filmmakers love - ’maang me sindur’ (a ritual where the groom applies vermillion onto the bride’s forehead). The drums are rolling, the background score is heightened and low behold. The trajectory of Raghav’s fingers ends in Sia’s forehead, not the handpicked Ammaji bahu material! Woohoo! Sorry! Peeeeee peeeeee (that was the best onomatoepic sound I could write for the act of whistling out loud!!
Sia’s silent endurance is symbolic of her struggle for truth and endurance but atleast this great Gandhian trait has her man vouching for the sanctimony of their relationship and refusing to marry a second woman. Bravo! So I guess, I should make the title of this blog even longer and add ‘The great coming of age of the spineless mama’s boy’, yes he’s Indian of course :P
So friends and strangers to this blog, detest if you must the nonsensical plots of these soaps that have everyone mysteriously procrastinating logical steps, hiding the truth from their loved ones or simply sacrificing their happiness for the benefit of another character who more than often is a scheming character and thereby adding to the frustration of the viewers (my mom and I regularly take to flinging pillows on the floor when the characters or plot choose to become dumber) but please be a little kind, spare some of your good mood and appreciation for the justice that the underdogs of Indian soaps are being rewarded with like Sia or grabbing for themselves like Rashmi. It’s a triumph after all no matter how small. Meanwhile, the great Indian television jamboree continues on other channels of course (Colours should pay me for this generous PR activity I seem to be indulging in !) with unpredictable twists and untimely demise of main characters. I hope Ammaji doesn’t shoot Sia with her country made double-barrel gun in tomorrow’s episode. That will be such a waste of the lung power I’ve been investing into my newly acquired whistling style.
Peeeeee peeeeeee
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
IN PRETENCE OF ANTICIPATION
The reds and blues of the evening still glow in my head
While you weren't noticing, I watched your smile
I watched it emerge and spread through your lips
A little like the feeling I held back that night
It could have been nice to ignore the people
To pour ourselves one more beer and melt
But it's the chaos and the crowd that strangely drew me closer
I'd like to think it drew you closer to me
What becomes easy after a point is to drive the thoughts away
We've both been through the road where our hearts bled
We got up and walked on, perhaps not moved on yet
Somewhere down that road, I wish we'd walk a little together
For the anxiety and anticipation is perhaps just a weary process for us now
We'd rather not pretend like the others who give in
That there's a point of speaking our thoughts out aloud
We'll do it in our little spaces for verse,
There's always the craving for a beginning, one that's meaningful
Beginnings that aren't similiar to our pasts, sparked by passion or interest or attraction
Just the joy of knowing that we perhaps could have it for ourselves, we could be happy about the blanks
That exist in our conversation, our letters, our meetings
The next will be a long wait
And perhaps by then my mind would have tamed itself quieter
We'll talk about places, people and photos
While my mind will wonder about the picture there could be
While you weren't noticing, I watched your smile
I watched it emerge and spread through your lips
A little like the feeling I held back that night
It could have been nice to ignore the people
To pour ourselves one more beer and melt
But it's the chaos and the crowd that strangely drew me closer
I'd like to think it drew you closer to me
What becomes easy after a point is to drive the thoughts away
We've both been through the road where our hearts bled
We got up and walked on, perhaps not moved on yet
Somewhere down that road, I wish we'd walk a little together
For the anxiety and anticipation is perhaps just a weary process for us now
We'd rather not pretend like the others who give in
That there's a point of speaking our thoughts out aloud
We'll do it in our little spaces for verse,
There's always the craving for a beginning, one that's meaningful
Beginnings that aren't similiar to our pasts, sparked by passion or interest or attraction
Just the joy of knowing that we perhaps could have it for ourselves, we could be happy about the blanks
That exist in our conversation, our letters, our meetings
The next will be a long wait
And perhaps by then my mind would have tamed itself quieter
We'll talk about places, people and photos
While my mind will wonder about the picture there could be
Thursday, January 7, 2010
Another morning in Lokhandwala
"Aye, aye.....wake up!', nudging and more nudging that eventually materialise to raspy cold fingers on my feet. Where am I? Who are you? Aiyeeee!
'Ki holo' ?
Oh it's you! Get back to bed, this isn't the time to be waking me up!
"But I don't want to go to bed, I want to go out. And you are the one who takes me out. Wake up!"
Firm hand on her shoulders, her tiny frame under my unstable morning swagger, I lead her out of the room, resisting temptation to shut my door on her trembling innocent face.
"It isn't time to go out there yet and I need to sleep sweetheart. Let's talk when I wake up fully!"
"But you do this whenever I come to you. I don't want to get back into my bed!"
"Tough luck! Here you are". I tuck her in beneath the sheets that loom large over her . Her watery large eyes look back at me with disappointment and confusion.
Confusion. That's what prevails over her mind more than disappointment.
She's lost in a time warp, imagining herself to be in a house and amidst people who do not exist.
I am not even a member of her real family and yet my heart reaches out to her.
She's 79. She has Alzheimers.
'Ki holo' ?
Oh it's you! Get back to bed, this isn't the time to be waking me up!
"But I don't want to go to bed, I want to go out. And you are the one who takes me out. Wake up!"
Firm hand on her shoulders, her tiny frame under my unstable morning swagger, I lead her out of the room, resisting temptation to shut my door on her trembling innocent face.
"It isn't time to go out there yet and I need to sleep sweetheart. Let's talk when I wake up fully!"
"But you do this whenever I come to you. I don't want to get back into my bed!"
"Tough luck! Here you are". I tuck her in beneath the sheets that loom large over her . Her watery large eyes look back at me with disappointment and confusion.
Confusion. That's what prevails over her mind more than disappointment.
She's lost in a time warp, imagining herself to be in a house and amidst people who do not exist.
I am not even a member of her real family and yet my heart reaches out to her.
She's 79. She has Alzheimers.
Saturday, January 2, 2010
MOVING ON...FROM THE EVE TO THE NEXT DAY
New year’s eve. The three words spell a lot of uncertainty, pack in a lot of anxiety and above all build up so many expectations in our heads. Almost on the lines of another three words I think are over rated: ‘I love you’. You hear it. The cockles of your heart warm up a bit, you feel flattered perhaps or even jump out of your skin with sheer delight, but then? What comes after that?
I love analogies. More often than not, I tend to follow up all my arguments or observations by offering my own queer analogies. This particular one may seem like a rather disjointed argument. So I’ll elaborate a bit more. You go out with someone for perhaps the longest time and more than often after a certain amount of time, you are craving to hear a moment where that special someone is going to lead you on to the perfect next step into a meaningful relationship beginning with these three words. Individually they spell out as important words in the semiotics of English language: I (identity). LOVE (a valuable emotion, a reason to stay sane in this mad world). YOU(vis-à-vis I!!!). But put together it's a whole new connotation. It'll make your head spin or make you cringe. More often than not push you onto a wave of hope where you can’t help but think: ‘Wow! But now? ” Similarly, as your year progresses from hours to days, weeks , months eventually leading up to 31st December, the evening of the approaching new year, your mind and body are in a tizzy with excitement and anxiety. It’s the one evening that is supposed to culminate into a perfect evening ushering a new year in your best spirits. Forgive me for sounding cynical. The truth is that the only ‘spirit’ dominating your soul and body on this one VERY SIGNIFCANT DAY is the quantity of alcohol gulped down in a frenzy in the half hour leading up to the clock striking 12. Before that, your new year’s evening has been spent in wondering how you’ll dress, who you’ll spend your evening with and more importantly what exactly will you be doing at 12 am to make yourself feel happier and optimistic for the coming year. What a whole lot of energy, effort and planning put in to one evening worrying or ensuring you are not alone, crabby or mulling over the losses of the past year. While the truth is that it’s the insecurity of being alone - while everyone else is with a ‘special someone’ or a bunch of friends at a rave in Goa, or hooking up with random new faces they’ve met at a house party - that really makes you run to the next party you can gate crash into.
No of course I’m not haranguing you to sit with your wine and write or philosophise and take stock of your actions and achievements in the year that’s gone by. But please let’s stop making this hue and cry about having the ‘perfect new year’s evening’ or making those who don’t have ‘interesting’ plans for this one evening feel like they ought to check their brains for appearing like the sad loner material.
Instead how about focusing on Jan 1st. Seems to me, if any day is meant to be spent doing things in a symbolic gesture of good times ahead in the coming year and spent in the best spirit possible, it should be the first day of the year. Aren’t all the other 364 days of the year a good enough excuse to call random people over, get drunk, pass out only to realize you are not in your bed and the guy on the floor next to you, was your puke buddy in the loo last night? Of the usual mundane weeks or months we struggle to survive, such randomness is more than a welcome break on any regular weekday or weekend. Why specifically 31st evening?
I have trailed off or perhaps worse repeated my argument over and over again. But my new year’s eve wasn’t that bad, perhaps simply because I was happy to spend the evening thinking of it as another evening spent in the company of some strangers, an opportunity to display my ‘mojhito’ making skills and of course some priceless friends who made sure that my post 12 am experience on Jan 1st 2010 has been the reason to look out for the coming year, not the evening of 31st Dec 2009.
There was :
---The conversation with a long time buddy from good old Presidency College, the ‘spirit’ of the conversation not a glass of whisky or wine but a bucket of Baskin Robins Blueberry shake (the freezer was stuffed with so much ice for our Mojhitos that it resulted in a rather lovely BR blueberry shake, move over BR ice cream!)
---A moment when I realized that my host’s balcony, faced a block of buildings whose one particular flat was responsible for some brilliant times and some very painful reminders of 2009. Here I was, in a new years’ party treating the evening as a decision to mingle with crowd unfamiliar to my previous circle and life in Mumbai, my previous fulcrum point of existence in the city, the one I chose to walk away from. But now? My last day of 2009 was being spent in a house diametrically opposite to my previous home. Ironical and how!
--- My moment of epiphany for 2010 which I shall not wax eloquently about. My later posts shall surely do that.
This last one truly was the ‘wake up and smell the coffee’ moment. Cliches are nothing but truth often repeated so yes here’s one more. I realized that this year has already begun and will continue to be in search of experiences, adventures and every moment possible to move away from the past towards new beginnings. This didn’t come to me amidst the screaming, hooting , tequila guzzling crowd I was with at 12 am on Dec 31st 2009. It was on Jan 1st, 2010. A day that I can see now was the perfect beginning for the year ahead. There! I’ve risked sounding hypocritical but yes, the word perfect comes to my mind again and again. Jan 1st 2010 commenced with work related to my present endeavours and some very bold career decisions. It also ended with the same. The time in between was interpolated with the company of a great friend, a delicious lazy hour spent over tea after a rather plain lunch and an evening spent watching a film that made me laugh the way I haven’t in the longest time….in the longest time. Next up, the evening had me brainstorming with a writer over my short film and of course finding a rather interesting friend in the process .
It was as the cliché puts it, a day well spent. From the very first hour I woke up to the last few minutes that I spend typing this out. I recall most of my new year’s eve as I was growing up, was spent with my family rather ordinarily albeit a good dinner and wine ending in watching the fireworks that lit up the sky from my window, at which point, I sighed thinking of the friends who were lucky to be out. My first day of 2010 changed all of that. Cheers to all the new year’s ‘days’ ahead of my life. I know those are the ones I’m investing in. And on new year’s eve? Well, I’ll make sure I have a mojhito in my hand. The minty, tangy, effervescent and yes bitter- sweet drink. Its spirit captures the tastes that’s truly significant of all the contrasts that every year brings with it into our lives. It’s a perfect year beginner! Cheers!
I love analogies. More often than not, I tend to follow up all my arguments or observations by offering my own queer analogies. This particular one may seem like a rather disjointed argument. So I’ll elaborate a bit more. You go out with someone for perhaps the longest time and more than often after a certain amount of time, you are craving to hear a moment where that special someone is going to lead you on to the perfect next step into a meaningful relationship beginning with these three words. Individually they spell out as important words in the semiotics of English language: I (identity). LOVE (a valuable emotion, a reason to stay sane in this mad world). YOU(vis-à-vis I!!!). But put together it's a whole new connotation. It'll make your head spin or make you cringe. More often than not push you onto a wave of hope where you can’t help but think: ‘Wow! But now? ” Similarly, as your year progresses from hours to days, weeks , months eventually leading up to 31st December, the evening of the approaching new year, your mind and body are in a tizzy with excitement and anxiety. It’s the one evening that is supposed to culminate into a perfect evening ushering a new year in your best spirits. Forgive me for sounding cynical. The truth is that the only ‘spirit’ dominating your soul and body on this one VERY SIGNIFCANT DAY is the quantity of alcohol gulped down in a frenzy in the half hour leading up to the clock striking 12. Before that, your new year’s evening has been spent in wondering how you’ll dress, who you’ll spend your evening with and more importantly what exactly will you be doing at 12 am to make yourself feel happier and optimistic for the coming year. What a whole lot of energy, effort and planning put in to one evening worrying or ensuring you are not alone, crabby or mulling over the losses of the past year. While the truth is that it’s the insecurity of being alone - while everyone else is with a ‘special someone’ or a bunch of friends at a rave in Goa, or hooking up with random new faces they’ve met at a house party - that really makes you run to the next party you can gate crash into.
No of course I’m not haranguing you to sit with your wine and write or philosophise and take stock of your actions and achievements in the year that’s gone by. But please let’s stop making this hue and cry about having the ‘perfect new year’s evening’ or making those who don’t have ‘interesting’ plans for this one evening feel like they ought to check their brains for appearing like the sad loner material.
Instead how about focusing on Jan 1st. Seems to me, if any day is meant to be spent doing things in a symbolic gesture of good times ahead in the coming year and spent in the best spirit possible, it should be the first day of the year. Aren’t all the other 364 days of the year a good enough excuse to call random people over, get drunk, pass out only to realize you are not in your bed and the guy on the floor next to you, was your puke buddy in the loo last night? Of the usual mundane weeks or months we struggle to survive, such randomness is more than a welcome break on any regular weekday or weekend. Why specifically 31st evening?
I have trailed off or perhaps worse repeated my argument over and over again. But my new year’s eve wasn’t that bad, perhaps simply because I was happy to spend the evening thinking of it as another evening spent in the company of some strangers, an opportunity to display my ‘mojhito’ making skills and of course some priceless friends who made sure that my post 12 am experience on Jan 1st 2010 has been the reason to look out for the coming year, not the evening of 31st Dec 2009.
There was :
---The conversation with a long time buddy from good old Presidency College, the ‘spirit’ of the conversation not a glass of whisky or wine but a bucket of Baskin Robins Blueberry shake (the freezer was stuffed with so much ice for our Mojhitos that it resulted in a rather lovely BR blueberry shake, move over BR ice cream!)
---A moment when I realized that my host’s balcony, faced a block of buildings whose one particular flat was responsible for some brilliant times and some very painful reminders of 2009. Here I was, in a new years’ party treating the evening as a decision to mingle with crowd unfamiliar to my previous circle and life in Mumbai, my previous fulcrum point of existence in the city, the one I chose to walk away from. But now? My last day of 2009 was being spent in a house diametrically opposite to my previous home. Ironical and how!
--- My moment of epiphany for 2010 which I shall not wax eloquently about. My later posts shall surely do that.
This last one truly was the ‘wake up and smell the coffee’ moment. Cliches are nothing but truth often repeated so yes here’s one more. I realized that this year has already begun and will continue to be in search of experiences, adventures and every moment possible to move away from the past towards new beginnings. This didn’t come to me amidst the screaming, hooting , tequila guzzling crowd I was with at 12 am on Dec 31st 2009. It was on Jan 1st, 2010. A day that I can see now was the perfect beginning for the year ahead. There! I’ve risked sounding hypocritical but yes, the word perfect comes to my mind again and again. Jan 1st 2010 commenced with work related to my present endeavours and some very bold career decisions. It also ended with the same. The time in between was interpolated with the company of a great friend, a delicious lazy hour spent over tea after a rather plain lunch and an evening spent watching a film that made me laugh the way I haven’t in the longest time….in the longest time. Next up, the evening had me brainstorming with a writer over my short film and of course finding a rather interesting friend in the process .
It was as the cliché puts it, a day well spent. From the very first hour I woke up to the last few minutes that I spend typing this out. I recall most of my new year’s eve as I was growing up, was spent with my family rather ordinarily albeit a good dinner and wine ending in watching the fireworks that lit up the sky from my window, at which point, I sighed thinking of the friends who were lucky to be out. My first day of 2010 changed all of that. Cheers to all the new year’s ‘days’ ahead of my life. I know those are the ones I’m investing in. And on new year’s eve? Well, I’ll make sure I have a mojhito in my hand. The minty, tangy, effervescent and yes bitter- sweet drink. Its spirit captures the tastes that’s truly significant of all the contrasts that every year brings with it into our lives. It’s a perfect year beginner! Cheers!
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
THE DEATH OF A BIRTHDAY WISH
It's the conflict that refuses to die out, its crazed eruption as chaotic as the tussle between the two emotions - that dominate the mind which is tired of confronting this conflict at its heart: love and hate. Hate being such a strong word and one I'd like to use minimally in my lifetime, perhaps I should say love and animosity.
The fact is, as despairing it is to me and baffling for people close to me, love gets animosity by the throat and swallows up loathing, repulsion and anger. Love chokes up what logic and rationale dictates. And if these conflicting emotions resurface over and over again, then surely it's the brain that processes, filters and stamps out my thoughts. And the brain is supposed to streamline logic and rationale , not the mind right? So what really then would be logic? Listening to the mind or the brain
And so as the clock strikes 12 tonight, the one emotion that seems to stand out like a thread gone haywire - yet unmistakable in its peculiar way of standing out from the remaining threads weaved in logic, in the warp and weft of a fabric - is anything but animosity.
Yes, they were right in saying you can't demonise a certain someone who caused you tremedous grief, you can't demonise that person to fight the angst within you today the person has caused by his/her acts yesterday. The only demon one needs to fight is the bipolar self. The one that lusts to take over all the goodness, calm, tolerance and above all one single prescious emotion within the other half of you. It's the one that helps you survive all the insanity out there. Love isn't lost. It stays within, perhaps a bit quietly, tamed by wisening years and new experiences. But it stays.
The fact is, as despairing it is to me and baffling for people close to me, love gets animosity by the throat and swallows up loathing, repulsion and anger. Love chokes up what logic and rationale dictates. And if these conflicting emotions resurface over and over again, then surely it's the brain that processes, filters and stamps out my thoughts. And the brain is supposed to streamline logic and rationale , not the mind right? So what really then would be logic? Listening to the mind or the brain
And so as the clock strikes 12 tonight, the one emotion that seems to stand out like a thread gone haywire - yet unmistakable in its peculiar way of standing out from the remaining threads weaved in logic, in the warp and weft of a fabric - is anything but animosity.
Yes, they were right in saying you can't demonise a certain someone who caused you tremedous grief, you can't demonise that person to fight the angst within you today the person has caused by his/her acts yesterday. The only demon one needs to fight is the bipolar self. The one that lusts to take over all the goodness, calm, tolerance and above all one single prescious emotion within the other half of you. It's the one that helps you survive all the insanity out there. Love isn't lost. It stays within, perhaps a bit quietly, tamed by wisening years and new experiences. But it stays.
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