All for a cause

All my life I've felt life has to have a purpose, a meaning. And that believing in a cause, any cause gives it meaning. Not anymore. Not since that shocking attack on Army Public school children in Pakistan. Much has already been said on the issue and I'm too late to add anything to the outrage such an attack provoked. But I can say this much - this is what it finally leads to. Believing in causes. What fight for freedom, what cause can justify this massacre of innocents? What promised land do you inherit with their blood staining your hands? Which Allah Or God Or Maker can justify taking the lives of these innocents? Taliban claimed this attack was in retaliation of what the Army did to their families. So why target children? Why not attack the Army? Why take the coward's way out? The easy way out? 

I am beginning to intensely dislike causes. Any cause. Every cause. Good or bad. Because from what I can see it is turning men into rabid, foaming at the mouth fanatics incapable of thinking or reasoning. Either you want a separate state or piece of territory, or you want freedom, or some such crap you feel justifies all the bloodshed and chaos you leave in your wake. The crimes committed in the name  of freedom are legion. All the bombings, the violence, the murder of innocent people are unleashed by terrorists because of this shining cause they believe in. Wars are fought because men believe in some cause or other. Shias fight Sunnis because they believe in some cause dictated by their Allah(?). Men divide break destroy kill maim because they think some cause justifies it all. 

"We are fighting for a cause" they say unable to see what it is doing to them. 

So I say do away with all causes but one- humanity. First be human before you can be free. Before you stake your piece of promised land on this earth learn to be of this earth. Learn that you cannot be truly free until you know what freedom really is. The ability to be humane. And any cause that invites the destruction of millions of innocents cannot lead anywhere but to one place alone. To hell. Only in this case it is of your own making. The one you have fashioned with your hands. 

Is it science- or karma- every action has an equal and opposite reaction? 

So next time before you destroy in the name of any cause think.

Busy bee

Normally I am the laziest person around. I spent the greater part of Sunday snuggled under my warm razai reading a book. And...I'm not gong to recount episodes to demonstrate my laziness. Just that this blog is the result of lot of discussions and hearing people claim that they hate activity. After thinking on it I realized I could not for the life of me imagine a world without activity of any sort. Most inactive people claim they are doing nothing: Just watching TV, reading a book, or sleeping. But those, mark you, are activities too. They are all verbs or action words. 

Even when you are sleeping your brain is active. Hence the dreams. Take activity away from us and you take away life. It is a comatose state. Where you are nothing more than a vegetable.

Try for a second. Close your eyes and imagine a world without any activity of any sort. Successful? No? I couldn't either. Life demands action. Passive action but action nevertheless. You might sit in a chair and think. But thinking is an activity too. 

See? Everything you think is not an action actually is. 

I know people are stressed today. We are dealing with a scenario where so many things are happening simultaneously that each moment we live brings its share of stress. Wellness gurus cannot emphasize enough the need to chill out and reduce stress levels through various mediums- exercise, yoga, social interaction, hobbies, music. The list is endless. But activity is a therapy too. Try it sometime. Next time you are stressed or feeling as if your world has ended do something.  Watch a nice movie, go for a walk, talk to your friend, clean out your cupboard, bake a cake, plant a tree, write a diary entry. Something. Anything. In my opinion action has a lot to recommend it. A lot of our ills exist because we scoff at active people. But the old school of thought has something there. I know we can't be jumping around all the time. But it is absolutely imperative to have something to do. Otherwise we all dissolve into nothingness. We stop being alive. 

Being a busy bee has its upside too. If you are not a busy bee but a lazy one(like me) it is still good to have bouts of activity - even if it is walking in the park or reading a book. Don't you think so?  

My Winter Rhapsody

I don't know about you but I spend the better part of the year looking forward to those 3 months of winter.(It has shrunk to 1 month actually.) I cannot for the life of me write either prose or poems about the sun or the summer living in a country where its unrelenting blaze scorches everything in sight. That's why the thought of those months or month(!) of reprieve from its glare is enough to make me write this. If you haven't already guessed I love the winter. It is the best time of the year. The only time when I can match my western counterparts in waxing lyrical about the sun and its warmth. The only time when I actively seek its warmth and light. Having lived all over India I've lived in places like Chennai and Guwahati where there are no winters. That's why I appreciate it all the more. 

Winter for me brings lots of images: Breath frosting on the air, the smell of wood smoke from burning roadside fires, the carts of roasting groundnuts( mumfali) by the roadside with wisps of smoke curling from it, and the air itself. Cold, smelling of flowers, brushing the tip of your nose making your eyes water with its bite, the early morning fog outside your window. It is the time when you snuggle into your woolens and take long brisk walks to keep yourself warm. 

Winter is also the time of indulgence for me. When you can gorge on sweet vegetables and fruits, eat rich gravies and get away with it, munch on chocolate and chikkis. Not to mention hot fried chaat. It means outings, picnics and generally an air of suppressed bonhomie. With Christmas holidays and New Year around the corner and Diwali just past it introduces a cheer that carries you along on a tide irrespective of your own mood. I cannot but feel an uplift of my spirits as this season begins no matter in what doldrums I might find myself. No matter how much life sucks I cannot help the smile that flits across my face with the cold wind brushing it. Even power cuts don't matter much because it's winter for god's sake!! 

Like all things short lived it is incredibly sweet. Even the groan that leaves your lips when discarding the warmth of your razai in the morning is welcome. Those cold blustery days when the mercury dips and the sun plays hide and seek are welcome. The blue blue skies above are welcome. The fog curling outside my window and bringing the smell of wildflowers at night is welcome. Winter you are welcome.

With the global warming changing our climate winters are shortening, becoming hotter. One day this season might just become a memory. A thing of the past. And summers will continue unabated. What a pity that will be! 

Between you and me

Have you noticed how our perceptions alter magically the moment the words "mine", "my" or "ours" enters the equation? Every little endeavour, every enterprise however insignificant becomes imbued with importance simply because it is ours, it belongs to us. And what set me thinking on this track was simply an exercise I witnessed just now while returning home. A flower seller sweeping his small circle of area clean. Prior to opening shop he was making sure his boundary, that small circle of space was presentable. It is not an uncommon sight is it? Nor is the scraping sound of brooms in the morning. We all like to keep our houses clean. Even a hovel is swept clean by slum dwellers, for it is the space they have fashioned into a home. But what happens the moment that we step out of that magical perimeter of mine, ours, my? Then of course it ceases to matter altogether. Rubbish might pile up and overflow by the road but we avert our faces because it is not our problem is it? To keep our areas clean we might dump our rubbish outside but after that it ceases to be our problem. We shrug and say "it is not mine." 

This is just a small example. There are so many things we ignore so many wrongs we do not right because it is not ours. We pay attention only to those things which directly affect us. The moment we put the stamp of possession on anything- marriage, relationship, things, work, enterprise- we attach ourselves to it like limpets. We are ready to fight to defend what we construe to be our territory. Because directly or indirectly it is related to our selves. To us. The pain caused by stubbing your toe and the pain perceived by the stubbing of another's toe are miles apart. Perceived pain cannot match your experienced one. That is precisely why these possessive pronouns make the world of difference. Between you and me there stands a gulf which can be bridged only when "you" becomes "me" and "I" become "you."

Creepy weird eh? But true nonetheless. Only when your perceived pain becomes experienced then you truly understand. When your circle of my or ours widens to include you, or the other as they say, then the magic happens. When you look out and see rubbish on your street or staircase, then of course you are impelled to take action. When you find someone writing graffiti on the walls of your heritage monument then you protest. When someone molests your sister, friend or woman then you take a stand. When someone drinks and bashes your car then you shout at them. Otherwise it's just a sign on the road.(Do not drink and drive) So go on. Say mine. Ours. My. Put your stamp of possession on everything you see. Your country. Your colony. Your son. Your son's school. Your road. Your world. Because then and only then it will be truly yours. Your world. Your planet. Because YOU care.

Your worst enemy

A five letter word. A teeny tiny niggle in your mind like an invisible worm eating away at your insides nibbling away incessantly till you are transformed from a serene confident person to a mass of shivering uncertainty. You want to know what on earth I'm talking about. I'm talking about Doubt of course. That little worm Iago inserted so successfully into Othello's ear till maddened by suspicion he killed his wife and love, Desdemona. Suspicion is just another guise that Doubt wears. Another name for the same thing. Only in this case Doubt is far more lethal. Because it can attack you from inside turning your "I know" to "I don't know" in seconds.

It is a rare person who is not besieged by doubts. We all are at some point or other in our lives. We all ask questions of ourselves like: Am I doing the right thing? Will I get there? Does God exist? And many more like these. From a believer you change into a nonbeliever in the twinkling of an eye because this demon worm enters your mind. From a person confident of his or her abilities you become a wreck because you don't know. For sure. Because Doubt is playing havoc with you. 

A person who is strong enough manages to drive it out but you might not get lucky every time. Sometimes it lingers on in the recesses of your brain destroying you from inside. Weakening you. Making you vulnerable. Preying on you. Then your confidence oozes out little by little. And you become its victim. 

See the thing is: ten times out of one you are not sure. In any situation. If it is the right path you are on. If you are going to end up where you want. If...A million Ifs. But some are. A handful. Who just know. Whose confidence blazes out like a beacon in the dark. And these are the ones who make the roads others walk on. 

Recognize your worst enemy and give it wide berth. Next time you are plagued by doubts look in the mirror bolster your sagging confidence and continue. Because that's how history is made. And battles won. Both internal and external.  

Band Baaja and Birthday Bash

Generally I steer clear of politics. Not being politically minded and not having studied my civics( Pol science- as it is called these days) in my youth - at all- it is a source of constant mystery to me how that body functions. But today I'm compelled to speak. Not about politics but about politicians.

We are constantly told by our khadi clad figures that we are an absymally poor country always in need of funds from other more powerful nations- Australia, US or what -have-you. 

And these ministers who are elected to their posts are Jan- sevaks ( servants of the people who have elected them to their thrones). And yet yesterday my eyes popped out at the photograph in the front page of the HT of the 75 foot long birthday cake of our erstwhile minister and father of the reigning Chief Minister Akhilesh Yadav. Mulayam Singh Yadav. Yes. The guy who said "Boys will be boys" and not rapists when they rape women. That's the one. 

WOW!! Make that a double WOW!! Man what celebrations! They put any of our Bollywood star celebrations to shame. Carriages from England, flowers from Netherlands, 75 foot long cake-  can anything beat this? Did you say we are poor? Hey! I bet even the Queen Of England can't afford this show of extravagance. How much money does Mulayam Singh or his son have? Even the erstwhile royals cannot afford this kind of extravagance. And Mulayam Singh does not belong to a royal family. As far as we know he wasn't born with a silver spoon in his mouth. So where is this money flowing like champagne coming from? Is it out of our pockets? 

Mayawati made a spate of statues in some park and invited- justly- a lot of flak about the misuse of public funds but this kind of beats it hollow. And even if they have that kind of cash(amassed over the years- politics being so lucrative) to spend why not organize a dinner for orphans or the starving millions that feature so prominently in our ads and do some jan- seva? That's why they've been elected right? That's why they've got the votes. So that they can serve the public. Not have extravaganzas like this.

The next time any politician mentions our poor country show him the photo of the 75 foot long cake. What is the use of asking for black money in Swiss accounts when such politicians exist? Next time use your vote with discretion. Or Mulayam might just set a trend among political families where sons succeed their fathers. And have birthday celebrations like this. 

It's all in the tale

I just finished reading two more books. Somehow my little blog is turning out to be all about books.( bookworm that I am) So these two I'm told are both "life changing" books. John Green author of "Fault In Our Stars" assures us that it is all fiction and he has tweaked facts to suit himself and that a story which is fiction can be life changing too. I agree. Some of my best philosophies are derived not from classic tomes but from fiction fiction. The other book - before I stray off the path- is Paulo Coelho's "Alchemist" about the shepherd boy in search of buried treasure which he does find after a journey in self discovery. It is, I quote "a magical fable about following your dream". At least that's what the book's cover tells me. I've to confess that nothing life altering has struck me down yet; no revelation has burst upon me and changed my life after reading them. I found "Fault In our stars" to be a sweet tender romance of 16-17 year olds trying to fight death (Old old story- remember Ankhiyon Ke Jharonko Se or better still Love Story) with heavy philosophy and doses of poetry thrust in. It is a fresh take on cancer patients and to some it has probably made a difference.(I'm too old I guess) Just as "The alchemist" I'm told has inspired many. Even the President of United States who swears by it. I believe he carries a copy of it around. Sorry. It didn't do a thing for me. Especially the line about the universe conspiring to get you what you want. It's not happening dude. Not to me. Not to a lot of people I know. Life is just giving us lot of sour lemons and we're trying to make lemonade with them only not succeeding I'm afraid. So call it a case of sour grapes or sour lemons - whichever you prefer. 

Maybe it's just sourpuss old me. 

But our fascination with magic, with fairy tales, with the paranormal, the supernatural, the other realm is never ending. Me included. I was a sucker for Cinderella when I was a kid(ages ago!) and I love Harry Potter. What lies behind it? A deeper search for meaning to this life on earth? Or just a desire to escape into a fantasy world where "happily ever after" exists? Because If Santiago in "Alchemist" had failed to find his treasure then maybe we wouldn't have tagged the book "life changing" right? Because we know there is no treasure at the end of the rainbow. But we like someone who tells us there is. So I guess it's a bit of both. The need to find some meaning to our lives as well as escape into the "happily ever after" fairy tales and supernatural worlds that offer tales of these splendid beings with amazing powers while in reality we labor on in Mr. Biswas's (Naipaulian) little universe. Slightly ridiculous, resilient, vulnerable, poignant and tragic beings fighting our little battles. And losing most of the time. 

What is your food-entity?

Yep. I did it just now. Coined a new word. Food +identity= Food- entity. So. I have just completed Interpreter of maladies by Jhumpa Lahiri. Not what I expected of an award winning novel. No intellectual gymnastics. No complexities. Just simple ordinary stories in simple lucid prose. Rather good I must say. And in her work I found constant references to food -whether it is Mrs. Das munching on puffed rice in the Interpreter or Mrs. Sen using her boti (shaped like the prow of a ship) to gut and slice fish and vegetables. Lahiri uses food to convey her Indian-ness. Her characters derive their sense of self( as i suspect she does) their roots from the food they eat. Food that clearly separates them from their American counterparts. In the rice, puffed or otherwise, in the spices, in the egg curry, fish curry or curried chicken they find their identities separate and distinct. It is what they hold on to in a foreign land. 

I found it a novel point of view. To think that food somehow connects you to your roots, to your self, gives you  your identity is a possibility I've never taken into account perhaps because I've taken my identity for granted. That I'm a Indian- Bengali has never been in question but to those settled in far flung places around the globe food becomes a way of life. Of staying in touch with your roots. In Lahiri's world food is not not merely what you eat but who you are. 

I thought back to the time when I read Enid Blytons as a child. References to muffins, scones, tarts were unfamiliar, unknown. But for today's generation exposed to an explosion of cuisines from all over the globe nothing is unfamiliar. Mexican, thai , chinese, Italian, French, Lebanese, American, Japanese- you name it we eat it. But our daily diet still consists of dal chawal subzi. So food does not occupy us in the same way it does an expat. To them it is a taste of home. Even though they maybe American Indians born and brought up there. 

To most Indians food is a big deal. It is our medium of expressing ourselves. It is an affirmation of life itself. Every occasion -joyous or sad- ( wedding, birth, death, festival) is marked by food. 

But for some it is also a means of clinging to their roots and finding their identity. Their food- entity. 

Fame or Bane?

I can't quite decide whether its a good thing to be known or unknown. To be noticed or be ignored. Most people will vote against the latter. To be ignored is some kind of humiliation which no-one wants to be stuck with. It is so much better when the world sits up and takes note of you. Then you're famous!! Heck who doesn't want to be famous? 
But I've begun to wonder. What happens when you get trapped in that fame? When you become a victim of it? When you can't break out of it no matter how much you try? 

You love Harry Potter. I love Harry potter. Everyone loves Harry Potter. With that series J.K. Rowling achieved unprecedented success. She did something magical with her books that no-one, no writer achieved. She made history. Broke all barriers of gender caste race color and reached out to millions of readers around the world. Male writers wondered how a woman writer could achieve that kind of success writing children's books, for God's sake! And in the commercial genre. Mind you its not an intellectual over- the- top series that is beyond the grasp of the common reader. Both the adults as well as the children love it. Both the literary discerning reader and the simple intellect of a child can enjoy it on different levels. 

I know. I know. You already know this. J.K. Rowling doesn't need my recommendation. She has established herself without any doubt. Since she ended the series she has written three more books. One a satire; two murder mysteries about PI Cormoran Strike. I've read Cuckoo's Calling. It's very well written. Cormoran Strike bounces off the pages vividly, almost a caricature but...but something's missing. In spite of her superior writing, command of the English language, in spite of her talent for portraits, her books haven't achieved even one fourth of Harry Potter's success. The latest I heard was she was now writing a story about the wicked headmistress of Hogwarts- Dolores Umbridge. Try as she might she can't break out of her own success. Will she eventually succeed? Remains to be seen. 

The hero of Harry Potter movies Daniel Radcliffe is floundering similarly- trying to do everything to break out of the mold his role has placed him in. He's trying out different roles - right from romantic to theater - to prove his metier. These are just two examples of so many. 

But the way I see it, in many ways fame is a bane. Because once you are famous you are expected to repeat that success. And you are expected to do that in precisely the way you've done it before. And before you know it there's no way out. That's why I can't decide. Better to be ignored or noticed. What do you think? www.facebook.com

Beaten into morality?

Just read the morning paper. Film fraternity protested against the anti drinking warnings to be displayed onscreen. That debate will rage on. It brings me to my question- can morality be enforced? Can you beat someone into being moral? Can you terrorize someone into being moral? The answer is sadly-yes. There has always been a deep correlation between fear and morality; from there to morality and religion. To most of mankind religion/ morality has its roots in awe and reverence and that awe unfortunately is mixed with heavy doses of fear. Men in caves worshipped thunder, lightning and fire- every phenomena that seemed inexplicable to them. We have God of thunder and lightning(Indra), Fire(Agni) Wind(Vayu) Sun(Surya). 

In its primitive stages then morality stemmed from fear. 

But that morality does not last. It cannot. Just as fear cannot. 

Any reign that begins in fear has to end. All religions preach one morality- that of love. And morality, true morality has to do more with being a sentient human being than anything else. Just as religion is a deeply private highly individual experience which cannot be translated into vocabulary of the masses. 

So can these reforms be implemented for the masses by the masses? Can the government stop people from smoking, drinking or raping by imposing punishments, fines and making rules? Can human beings give up their intrinsic nature if they are forced to be moral? Can a rapist stop raping? Can an alcoholic stop drinking and beating up his wife? Can a man who smokes stop to think of others around him? The answer I'm afraid is a resounding -No. People will continue to drink smoke and rape and commit crimes but they will do so in ways that will circumvent laws. 

Is there no use then to these attempts to civilize society? At least some degree of awareness is being generated. People might ignore these slogans and continue on their merry way to hell but at least in public places they won't be able to smoke and kill ten others with themselves; a rapist will know he is in for a long time in jail for ruining a woman for life and very quickly; that there are no loopholes for a crime so heinous; a murderer will hesitate to commit murder. 

Fear then is a useful deterrent for the masses who aren't capable of being sentient human beings. They aren't capable of self control. They need to be curbed externally because they are incapable of internal control. To that end these warnings  and rules are okay. But for real morality to begin one needs to define limits,( or to rise above them as the case maybe) to redefine the meaning of "human being." Only those capable of thinking for themselves, of rational behavior, of looking inwards can start being moral in the real sense of the word. Being beaten into morality is not the real answer. Only the beginning to social reform. Perhaps. Because human nature being what it is, vice in its many forms will continue to exist. We can only try to ensure that it touches as few as possible. But ultimately the choice rests with the individual. To embrace it or let it go. And I've been told by many wise that it is harder to let go. 

Are you moral? Do you want to be? Can you be? It is a boring arduous process with absolutely no bouquets, only brickbats. No awards. No applause. Just a continuous grappling with yourself not to slip. Are you up to it? Very few are. 

www.facebook.com

Portrayal of Women in Movies And T.V.

We have entered the twenty first century. Gone on space missions. Done incredible things in science and advanced by leaps. But somehow our perception of women has not altered much. Note. I have said not altered much. I haven't said "not at all." Both our visual mediums- T.V and films- have now moved from portraying women from sobbing sari clad sati- savitris ( Meena Kumari era) to  radical shot- guzzling cigarette smoking emancipated feminists whose only claim to emancipation lies not in intellectual superiority to their male counterparts( Oh no! Females are almost never capable of out thinking or out maneuvering them) but in being free to compete in downing innumerable shots with men and hopping in and out of their beds. It is passe to be a virgin, to have any moral values. The image of heroines in films favored currently being sluttish. Equality then boils down to sexual, in some cases financial, but never intellectual emancipation. A woman is never shown to be intellectually equal, let alone superior to a male. Does that tell you something? It does to me. Being a woman I find it highly insulting. Why does a woman need a man to rescue her from every situation? I have no objection to the man in question supplying the muscles but the brains? Come on. History bears witness that some of the women rulers were the shrewdest. Elizabeth the bastard queen who maneuvered her way to the throne, Margaret Thatcher, our very own Indira Gandhi. So why is it we cannot show women more intelligently? Why when we do so we resort to revamped prototypes? No matter how much alcohol or wine they may drink, no matter how many cigarettes they smoke, what positions they occupy in the corporate world they cannot rid themselves of the tag of sexual objects. Out maneuvering is always depicted in sexual terms where the woman ensnares the man using sex, and blinds him to reason in a cloud of passion. It is never a case of sharp hard intellect fighting intellect. Never a case of brains outwitting brains. In TV the change is slower to happen. Women are shown to be sari clad and venturing into a brand new world but ...but with the man's support or the family's. Nothing wrong with that. Only nowhere is it shown that the man shares the household duties with his wife when she works outside to augment the family income. Again that should tell you something. It is still the woman's job to manage family home and a job. It is taken for granted that every woman is a superwoman who can and should multitask. Why? 

Divorce and remarriage of women are now no longer taboo on TV. Every middle class home now endorses the end of a bad relationship. But before real change begins we should change the way in which we perceive ourselves. Because once women begin to admit that we are not mere sexual objects then and only then things will change. 

I'd love to see a movie or TV serial in which a woman ousts a man because of her superior intellect. Not because she is a pretty face or has a great smile. Or can match the man in downing innumerable shots or announcing her sexual emancipation. 

What color are you?

Pigeonholing is something we just love to do. Slot humankind into neat little categories. According to gender, race, color, capability(gifted, failure,loser),financial status, background, caste, creed- it goes on and on. We are not content until we have put everyone into pigeon holes. Today I'm going to deal with only one category. The color of your skin. 

Earlier it was the white race which dominated the world.They were thought to be automatically superior because of the color of their skin. Even today Indians cannot quite shake off their fascination for the white skinned. Then gradually other skins began to grow in prominence- oops other races, I mean. The olive skinned( largely Mediterranean and some European), the yellow skinned( Japanese, Chinese, South east Asians), the red skinned(The Red Indians), the brown skinned(Indians) and finally the black skinned(Africans). The world had very neatly been divided on basis of the color of skins. 

But consider the absolute contrariness of human nature. Perpetually dissatisfied with what we have; the whites were not happy with the way they looked. They set out to tan and broil themselves in the sun to turn their skins into shades of bronze, copper or if they got lucky with the melanin content in their skin, a deep brown. Sunbathing is THE most popular thing in the West. While what were those lucky people with brown or black skin doing? Bleaching the hell out of themselves. Wearing sunblocks. Using whitening creams by the gallons. Trying to get whiter and whiter day by day.( See that fair and lovely advertisement?) 

The marriage market demands fair beautiful girls or fair handsome men in India where arranged marriages are still the norm. I really wish the whites would consider doing a skin swap with the Indians. It would fulfill both their immediate desires- one to turn brown and the other to turn blindingly white. All without hours spent in the sun or buying dozens of skin whitening creams. 

What about the others? The olive skins or the yellow skins? What are their grouses? I don't know. Being an Indian I only know what our people want. But I'm sure being human they must have some. Dissatisfaction is the mantra of human nature no matter which part of the globe people might reside in. 

Whatever one might say the Indian reverence for fair or white skinned people is not likely to diminish in the near future. Nor is the Western obsession with tan. The only way out as I can see is a swap. Any takers?

The most difficult genre- comedy

It started quite simply in the beginning- this genre game. There were two genres -tragedy and comedy. And all fiction was listed under either of the two headings. Dramas, poetry, literature - everything fell under these two categories. Like everything today it has changed. There are so many genres, sub-genres, and sub-sub- genres that one feels quite dizzy. I've to confess to my shame that till not very long ago I had no idea what chick- lit meant and I had to actually google the meaning. Slightly more enlightened I browsed categories like noir, nocturne, chick lit, suspense-police procedurals, women sleuths, international crime & mystery, detective, new adult, young adult, middle ages, kids- the list is endless. It is gratifying to see how very organized and specialized we've become. But it is also very bewildering.

 Today however I'm going to deal with only one genre- comedy. This is a genre that has invoked my respect over the years  because I've realized just how difficult it is to raise a laugh. You'll say it is the easiest thing in the world. But it is not. Really. Real comedy, the vintage kind, where the humor is situational- arising from the series of events in the story- is very rare these days. Most  literature or films these days rely on sex, physical deformities, or crude vulgarity to raise a few laughs. Humor is a dying art. 

I can't remember the last time I laughed aloud while reading a book or watching a movie. I think the last truly funny movie I saw was Jaane Bhi Do Yaaro. It was ages ago but it is still the best comedy I've seen. It was both a satire and comedy which is not an easy feat to achieve. The next movie I sincerely thought was funny was Golmaal. Not the new one but the old one. And so far I haven't seen or read anything that can match these. The comedy serials on TV - both Indian & Phoren - are quite pathetic. One can hardly bear to sit through the crude sex related jokes and the mind sapping humor. Hangover II -or was it III(?)- was one of the worst movies I've had to endure. It is a rare movie that can send me to sleep but this one did. 

We need laughs so desperately that we are becoming rather desperate to raise them. What happened to subtle tongue- in- cheek humor, or situational comedy NOT involving SEX? We are waiting to someone to take the center stage and show us what real comedy is. I'm waiting for someone to replace Jaane Bhi Do Yaaro. Any takers? 

That said I still maintain that it is easier to elicit tears than laughter. Real laughter that can bring tears to your eyes and make you hold your stomach. Without crudity. Without vulgarity. 

The happiness search

Consider these sentences. "I wish you all happiness". " I want to be happy." "I want you to be happy." "All I want is to find some happiness." Most things change with time. Clothes, customs, cultural mores, language. As a race we humans are constantly evolving, changing, redefining  ourselves and our surroundings. But the thirst for happiness remains constant through all ages. It is perennial, unchanging. With all our basic appetites satisfied we still crave for this ephemeral elusive thing we call happiness. But to exactly define it is so difficult. It means different things for different people. For some it can be something as simple as a smile on someone's face; a blooming flower; a sunset or sunrise. For others it might hold heavier more philosophical connotations. The mystery behind life and death. The eternal bliss. Sat, Chit, Ananda. But we all agree on one count. That is we search for happiness throughout our lives. We pursue success, riches, love only because we so desperately crave that feeling that high these bring- and which we call happiness. Happiness is basically the emotion of pleasure and bliss we feel at certain points in our lives. It is not a constant permanent state for most of us; it is fleeting. Only for those who have attained liberation perhaps it can be permanent. 

Our constant cry these days is "I want to be happy." Do we forget that in our very act of searching for it we might in fact lose it? If we question ourselves frequently "Am I happy?" we are opening the door to discontent and unhappiness?  

Pause for a moment. Stop. Stand still. Look around you. 

Instead of searching for happiness see how many reasons you already have to be happy. You have a fantastic family, loving friends and the opportunity to see a new sunrise every day. So, many things in your life are wrong. But hey! Life's not perfect. If you search for reasons to be happy instead of searching for happiness itself, you might just find what you've been searching for. Inside. Around you. In those myriad little things we overlook so often and which mean so much when we no longer have them. Let our search begin with counting our blessings. So trite. I know. But try it sometime. It works. 

There is only one person who can truly ensure your own happiness. That is you. Because even though you didn't know it you had the key the whole time. So stop your search. Reach out and unlock yourself. Begin by being happy. 

Indian English Fiction

Hiya folks! Missed my Monday deadline. Not because I was busy. Au contraire I was waiting to finish the book I was reading. It is not easy to say anything when you have nothing in particular to say; though I am well aware that it is an art at which many excel. Needless to say it is not an art I have mastered. Not yet anyway.( I hope to) I have always envied people who can trot out banal chit- chat and and are able to converse on any topic under the sun while I labor in vain and end up with hmms and ahhs like a moron. 

But I digress. Classic ageing symptoms. So as I was saying I was waiting to finish the book I was reading before writing this blog. That's because I'm a late entrant to the scene and I did not want to display my ignorance to all and sundry. I've still a few pages left and my ignorance is still pretty much intact but I can say what I think right? Free country and all.

Indian English Fiction has come of age. When I was in college I felt deeply the dearth of Indian writers writing fiction - the kind we like to read. Not high brow stuff which has you scratching your head if you happen to be a simpleton like me; but stuff we enjoy reading. The pulp variety. Thrillers, romance, adventure. Fiction fiction. The kind that doesn't win awards. Only entertains. 

I am pleased to say we have a host of writers aiming to do precisely that- entertain. I used to read Dan Brown, Baldacci, Child, Archer, Follett mostly. So I was unaware how the market for Indian English fiction has exploded. Recently I finished Krishna Key by Ashwin Sanghi and I must confess I was pleasantly surprised. He manages to make a cocktail of history, theology, mythology and give us a thriller with shades of Dan Brown. To learn and explore my country through his eyes was a revelation. I turned eagerly to his first novel Rozabal Line which puts forward the astonishing theory that Jesus did not die on the cross but in fact came to India and married a second time ( his first wife being Mary Magdalene) and his descendants might even be Kashmiri Muslims. He has take pains to substantiate this with a staggering amount of research which makes one dizzy as the novel zigzags between different time periods. I'm sorry to say this was not as well put together as Krishna Key and he rather spoils all his erudite commentary by dealing with past life regression in Bollywood style where the soul has the same face and gender through the ages and Karma is explained in childishly simple terms: Tit for tat! Yes. A bit too much for even a simpleton like me. 

Chetan Bhagat does not need my mention; he is indisputably the crowned king of Indian pulp fiction. I believe he has ventured into script writing too- Kick ( Bollywood movie- Salman starrer) has been written by him. I've read Anuja Chauhan. She's slightly risque, funny and highly entertaining. Those of you who went through the M& B phase or are still in the throes of it, will enjoy her books. She has plenty of Hinglish interspersed with quite good English and I will be eternally grateful to her for letting me know it is "Anyway" not "Anyways" like they use with abandon on TV serials.(These days I am constantly being updated on English language- usage, spellings etc. It's heartening to know I'm not always wrong) Amish Tripathy is another writer with the Meluha series. I couldn't relate to the idea of Shiva as a human speaking equivalent of modern English. I think Sanghi handles theology better.I must say I haven't read Ravinder Singh or Durjoy Dutta or the Gen- X writers. Maybe I will. Maybe I won't. But the vacancy I felt so acutely in my college days has been filled. And how! 

www.facebook.com

Go ahead read what Indian English fiction has to offer today!  Enjoy! 

https://www.createspace.com/pub/member/manage.preview.do#https//.www.goodreads.comhttps//www.createspace.com/preview/1157017https//www.createspace.com/preview/1155567www.createspace.com/preview/1157017www.goodreads.com

Winner takes it all??

I always thought nothing succeeded like success. That winning was all that mattered. That losing was all about failure. And the winner took it all- every last bit. But after watching an episode of Homemade yesterday on AXN I guess I'm not so sure anymore. Many times before I've felt very strongly that the deserving don't always get their due. I've known that since I was sixteen years old. But yesterday for the first time I saw the whole thing - this winning and losing game- in an entirely new light. 

For the first time I wondered how it must to be win and know in your heart of hearts you did not deserve that win. To stand before others and accept an award or prize and know that it belongs to someone else. To others who deserve it more than you do. 

For those of you who don't care one way or another, for those with a dead or dormant conscience, it's okay pal. After all you won. It says it all. 

But it doesn't. Because no matter what your award says, no matter what prize you get, no matter what the world says, you know you didn't deserve it. You'll know even if no-one does. How do you live with that? And yourself? 

On the other hand the so-called loser or failure walks out of the contest, competition knowing that he or she deserved to win more than the person who did. That he or she was far better. 

Hey! So who's the winner here? The one with the award, trophy, prize, what- have-you or the one who knows with a deep certainty that he or she deserved to win but did not?  That he or she did a damn good job, far better than the person who actually won. The satisfaction of a job well done far outweighs, in my opinion, any prize or award you might get; any win, any success you might have got. 

So the next time you lose ask yourself: are you really the loser? Because even if you deserved to lose you don't come away empty handed from the experience. You come away with knowledge, with experience. You learn. 

There are no losers my friend. Only learners. And winners don't take it all. Not every time.

Song sung blue

We all have our moments. Those dark clouds hanging over us. Those moments when we hover on the edge of the precipice looking down at the bottomless pit below; when that pit is the only reality, the only way out. The world seems a bleak place, devoid of warmth and light; the night unending with no signs of the day breaking; no hope; nothing. These dark spaces exist in us all. I hate to say this but it may not be a temporary phase. The pit might be the only reality for all eternity. There may be no way out. There may be no help forthcoming no matter which way you turn. So what do you do? 

If you think this is one of those how-to manuals on how to beat back depression and come bouncing back all new and shiny, let me disabuse you of that immediately. If you ask me I don't have the answers any more than you do. I'm no wellness guru dispensing advice on how to rise out of that consuming darkness; I offer no platitudes about a certain day after the night. Sometimes life is unending night with no reprieve. 

But I can share with you some of my little methods. 

Sleep: I find this always works for me. Things look fractionally better after a good night's sleep. What seemed so bleak and depressing the previous night looks better the morning after. Tomorrow like Scarlett o'Hara said is always another day. It might not be a brighter day than the previous one but it is a different one with possibilities which you bring to it. 

Play the blame game: Blame everything and everyone you can think of for your messed up life. It might not be true; it might not be right but it will surely make you feel better. Heaps. Works for me every time. Like magic. Anything and anyone you can think of. The government; your neighbor; your spouse; your parents; fate; God Almighty. Except yourself. 

Don't think: Whatever you do don't think. At all. Don't brood; don't obsess; don't let your mind dwell on what has happened to your life. Just don't go there. Turn yourself into a mindless zombie moving from one day to the next keeping your thoughts and emotions on the hold. Latch on to your favorite pastime and stay there. Latched on. 

And my final mantra. Even this shall pass. Mr. Biswas's ( character in Naipaul's novel) consolation works for me every time. Everything passes eventually. Night doesn't go away; the pit doesn't disappear; but you are able to step back from the edge of the precipice. Finally. Turn your blues into a song as Neil Diamond says. Who knows- even dark spaces have their upside? 

Three little words

Just three little words. And what changes it makes! What bonds it forges! Just three little words. "I trust you." It spans a bridge between I and you. Between two friends; between man and woman; between two different races; between child and parent; between two countries, two nations. Trust is the gossamer fine thread of the spider's web, invisible to the naked eye, as fragile, as difficult to give as to take. Love is easy. Love is not hard. We say "I love you" a zillion times and retract it a zillion times. We fall in love a zillion times(?) and fall out of love as easily. It is the most commonly used phrase and the most overrated in my opinion. 

Now trust. Trust is a different ball game altogether. I trust you means you are handing the other person a piece of yourself. You are giving the other access to you. You may love again but trust oh no!  Trust a second time round is difficult to come by. Once trust is destroyed it can never be regained. It is like glass that once shattered can never be repaired. Even if you seal in the pieces the cracks will be there; visible. No matter how try you cannot regain that belief in another again. 

When you accept the trust of another in you, you accept his or her belief in you, you have a responsibility to ensure that belief is not nullified, that trust is not violated. Be very careful with it. You've been handed the most precious thing in the world. The bond that binds man to man, man to woman, parent to child, employer to employee. In fact it forms the very fulcrum the very basis of our daily human interactions. If you violate it you're not likely to get it back. Once you do, it is the end. 

It is trust that makes us what we are. Human beings. It shows us the best we are capable of. 

It can move mountains, bring nations closer or farther as the case might be, re-write history. 

So the next time you use those three little words "I trust you" don't use them lightly. Don't offer them lightly. Your trust is precious. Your belief in another in invaluable. Use it with care. Above all never betray another's trust in you. Because in this case there are no second chances, no going back, no repair, no re-takes. It's just this one time. Remember.

copycat who?

Okay. So for ages now we have been influenced by the West greatly. Understatement. Since I'm using a language that is not strictly speaking Indian, though in the years that have passed, post British Raj, we have made it our own. Added to it. Subtracted from it till bears little resemblance to Queen's English as it was spoken. Now there are umpteen versions of it. Hinglish. American Hinglish. Indian English. Hindi written in English. Gasp! Okay. Point made. We dress in designer western clothes no matter how uncomfortable they might be or how ill suited to our weather conditions; ( my favorite topic- so I'd better muzzle it instantly) so we have all men wearing jackets even in boiling weather; and women wearing dresses made of fabrics more suited to their weather than our own. Women wearing clothes ill suited to our body type.   And in our houses we have wooden flooring discounting the fact that in our weather condition it merely heats up our houses more. We guzzle wine and alcohol like they do even though it raises our body temperature more. In their country they drink to keep themselves warm; therefore it part of their culture. 
We wax lyrical about the sun as they do; though we are boiled alive in its heat unlike them who crave its warmth. Summer for them is their season of celebration; for us it is the cruelest season. Yet we copy them in its celebration. 
We even install fireplaces in our houses though we have little or no use for them. Winters in North hardly call for fireplaces; in the East and South and West India they are totally redundant. Except for the hills where they are required. But have them we must.  
Our Bollywood directors are ferociously 'inspired" by their Hollywood movies. 
You must be wondering where exactly I'm heading with all this. Have patience dude. At last, at last a breakthrough in this copycat routine! Zoom in to the last episode of Mentalist on Zee cafe. A total take off on our Bollywood routine of tearful reunions at the airport. Sigh! Patrick Jane dithers till the last moment to declare his love for his partner and in true Bollywood fashion makes a mad dash to the airport in a police car, stops the taxing plane hops aboard and declares his love with all passengers watching agog. He even has a corny line which goes roughly like" Take care of this woman. I love her." Or something to that effect. Blame my failing memory. 
And I was ecstatic. Not because I was awfully moved by his romantic prowess but because at last our Bollywood had made inroads. Our loud implausible kitschy Bollywood movies had at last found a copycat! We are going places dude! Even to America and American sitcoms. Hallelujah! 
Ciao! Till next time! 

Experience VS Inexperience

Hi there! Read the papers yesterday. Saw that ministers are getting younger. No-one above 50. Which is a welcome change from the emphasis we usually place on experience. During the years I worked at a regular job I was continually confronted by this issue of "experience". And as I was young at that time I often found it frustrating when this flag of experience was waved before me. Useless to argue that unless you are given a chance to acquire that experience how are you supposed to acquire it.  Useless to try and change things. 
"This is the way things are done here." I was told umpteen times. 
And gradually I began to see That it was not as simple as experience Vs Inexperience. It went much deeper. It was youth Vs old age. It was tradition Vs change. A whole lot of issues tied together.  
True change is not always for better. True we should not be so quick to discard customs and traditions without really knowing what we may lose in the process. The new is often superficial, brash and quite soulless. But the young also bring fresh insights; children have new ways of perceiving things; the inexperienced may produce wonders because they are unshackled to the past. Very often children can be the best teachers. They are not flawless I know because they have yet to take the knocks that life delivers, but they are novel vibrant and enthusiastic. Very often experience makes us so aware of pitfalls that we hesitate to take a step forward in any direction masking our fear and inadequacies behind a mask of self sufficiency venting scorn on these"inexperienced youth". Frankly I think we trot out the "I have experience" line more often than not because we feel threatened. We suffer through inexperience waiting our turn till the day finally arrives when we trot out the same line that has been handed to us so often, in glee. This time we find ourselves on the other side of the fence. Instead of being on receiving end of that scorn we are now finally in the position to mete it out to others. That's how the wheel spins. From one generation to the next. From parent to child. From old to young. 
It's time to change that. It's time to admit we can learn from the young as much as they can learn from us. That learning is always a two-way process. Age demands reverence. Youth demands admiration. Show that understanding. A small step like this can reduce the GAP so often emblazoned on the tees of the youth across the world. Hand in hand we can can move forward to a new future. Experience and novelty together. Old and young together. Experienced and inexperienced together. Patient and impatient together. Parents and children together. What are you waiting for? Drop that shield you've been hiding behind and move forward. Listen. See. Understand. Hold out your hand. You might just be surprised by what you learn. 

Some small things

I was never one of those inquisitive kids who ask "Why is the grass green and the sky blue?" Call it a lack of curiosity or intellect. I always took it for granted. I mean the grass is green and the sky is blue, right? So it was never a big issue with me. But these days some things are raising the question "why" in my brain, buzzing away like so many bees. I haven't found answers to so many of them. Today in my blog I'd like to share some of those questions with you. If you find the answers do let me know. 

• Why do we spit everywhere? What does it signify- the act of spitting? Contempt? Frustration? Defeat? Helplessness? Defiance? Or maybe it doesn't signify anything but is our national character? Women especially are targeted. Men I've noticed have a tendency to spit in their vicinity ...signifying what exactly? That women are worthy of contempt and not deserving of respect? Or is a part of our national psyche originating from those paan chewing ancestors who used silver thukdaans( spittoons)? I don't know. All I see is a continuation of that tradition/ custom no matter what strides we have made in technology and modernism. 
• Why does nothing work? We have a lot of new technology at our disposal - computers in offices, banks and shops. ATMs at every corner. Escalators at malls. But nothing seems to work. Ten times out of one you are told you cannot get a bill generated because "computer  kaam nahi kar raha hai" (Computer is not working). (My gas service) You cool your heels in frustration while the man fiddles helplessly with the computer at the shop as you wait in a long queue to pay for your groceries. Or like that instance I cited in my earlier blog when I couldn't get access into the IGL office because there was a glitch in the computer and without an access card one cannot swipe and get in. And half the escalators in malls, GIP Noida, for instance, are always under repair. Why when we have the infrastructure we cannot utilize it? Why are there no funds allocated for maintenance? And if there are then why is maintenance not swift and immediate? Actually we are a laid back nation. Used to the current state of affairs. We take it for granted things will not work. Maybe that's why nothing does work. 
•  Why do we vandalize everything from seats in trains and buses, to whatever public conveniences we are offered? Public toilets in spanking grand malls soon are defaced and misused by us. Hey! It's our damn country! We are the public. We are not savages. Don't you think we should prove it? 50% of the population is either educated or trying to move in that direction. Then why can't we show that in our behavior? 
• Lastly why so many rapes? The numbers are increasing day by day. What is wrong with our male population? Are they feeling threatened by the women? Is this their way of "putting a woman in her place"? ( showing her her asli jagah") Our country is one where women as mothers and sisters are revered. So what is changing? The mother, sister tag? Men's perception of women as sexual objects? What? Why this outbreak of bestiality?

                    That's all for today. Do write in if you have the answers to these small questions.

Those precious moments

Hey ! So I missed the Monday. Sorry. And what a Monday it was! It was just the simple act of submitting an application for a new pipe gas connection. And I thought how hard can it be? But boy! Some education it turned out to be. First of all the office had shifted from Sec-24 to Sec-1. Then I had to wait for 20 mins to get a visitor's pass to get into the IGL office from the GAIL reception where the servers were down and the computer wasn't working. So inspite of all the technology new that Modi's been hollering about, nothing actually works when it comes down to it. All doors are electronically operated and you need an access card to get in. So what happens when servers are down? Simple I guess. You don't get in. Or you wait till the computer is up and working. Don't ask me what happens if the system crashes. Finally after getting the access card I was directed to the 1st floor then the 3rd and then the 2nd till finally a guard took pity on me and informed me that the office was in the other wing. When I finally managed to locate the office after another twenty minutes I was told politely that registrations for my sector had closed and I would have to wait till they reopened. Just one of those days! 

In this muddle I missed the sight I had been waiting to see. The flower bloom on my cactus in my terrace. I had been waiting for it to bloom for days ever since the tiny bud had appeared. Then in my hurry yesterday I forgot about it. Today when I saw the drooping closed bud of the flower I knew I had missed a precious moment. Believe me the sight of that cactus flower in bloom is one of the most beautiful sights in the world. It has a botanical name I forget( failing memory- sign of advancing age). In our hurry to get somewhere, to accomplish we miss so many precious moments like these.  Like that flower so many of our near and dear ones bloom unnoticed, so many of them have things to say we don't hear or see caught as we are in ourselves. The certificate your son shows you for a quiz competition, or a grade he might have got in school or just something your spouse might have to share about a bad day. We listen but we don't hear. We look but we don't see. Because frankly life sucks for most of us for most of the time! Louis Armstrong belting out  "What a wonderful world..." seems to belong to another era altogether. No. It's not a wonderful world at all. It's pretty much murder, mayhem, rape and dirty politics. But sometimes, just sometimes when you see a flower in bloom, see that smile on your son's face, look up at the blue sky, watch the rain - then you think that maybe the world's not such a bad place after all. Precious moments like these compensate.

So it's me signing off! Till next time!    

The formula game-II

Hi there! It's mind-day once more.Oops Monday! And time for my blog on Videshi serials. We have so many channels and so many serials to choose from. Comedy, crime, historical, fantasy, sci-fi- take your pick. One thing I must say about these Videshi serials. Even if they are giving us loads of fantasy or sci- fi their subject matter is well researched, their technology good, so most of their incredible scripts have an edge of credulity. Two things stand out about our English - American sitcoms.Their leaning towards the paranormal subjects -vampires, witches, werewolves,aliens, people with supernatural abilities-and their propensity to take off their clothes at the drop of a hat. I'm sure they think nothing of it (because clothes are not taken seriously out there- the less being better) but I belong to a generation who is quite not there yet in such matters. Oh! Oh! Does that date me? I can see our youngsters nodding their heads. But seriously dude or whatever you say these days, keep your clothes on! We are here to see you act not do striptease. If the scene demands a bikini and a bedroom scene okay go ahead. It would be weird to see a woman in a burkha or a sari or jeans trying to swim or a fully clothed couple making out in bed but that's not what I'm talking about. I'm talking about the dizzying rapidity with which our Videshi heroes and heroines fall in and out of love. The rapidity with which they exchange partners or jump in and out of relationships. Sometimes it gets difficult to keep up who is with who. Most of the comedy is sex centered. The jokes are lousy and the laughs are derived from jaded sexual innuendos. Some like the Middle are good. My favorites are the crime serials- Hawai Five -O on AXN, Elementary( modern take on Sherlock Holmes where Watson is a woman), 24, Mentalist on Zee Cafe to mention a few. Star World Premiere has a plethora of Sci- fi stuff. Helix and Strain being current ones. Reign just ended on Zee Cafe. It tells the story of Mary Queen of Scots. How far it is historically authentic I don't know but it was entertaining. More like a teen drama with pop songs(?) playing in the background. Even here Mary shuttles between two brothers Francis and Sebastian(!)- the bastard son of Henry. The Tudors was better. I haven't watched Game of Thrones(difficult to follow from season 7 or 8) but I've heard it's one masala entertainer. But the fact remains that West is fascinated with the paranormal and so are we.(we watch them don't we?) Stephanie Meyer has introduced us to civilized feeling vampires and vampires are here to stay. Hannibal Lecter- cannibal that he is- has his own fan following as did Dexter. And don't forget aliens and super humans. 

I have to say watching a load of black goo spilling out of alien life forms is heaps better than listening to an ear splitting Aaaa chorus on Colors or Star Plus or what have you.  But that is just my view. Most of the Indians prefer sari clad sob stuff. Okay folks! That's all for now. 
Next installment on whatever takes my fancy! Tada!   


. 

THE FORMULA GAME

So it's a Monday once again. And time for me to blog. I've decided to do it once a week. And since on Mondays I'm fresh after the weekend break it becomes my mind- day most of the time except for the rare occasion when I come up against a block. So today my topic is the idiot box- T.V. With my advancing years I've turned into a real couch potato- literally and figuratively. Physically I'm a zero size-all round like a zero and mentally I'm like a potato -loathe to exercise  frantically like I should be doing. So like I was saying I watch a lot of T.V. these days. A lot, meaning a lot. And not the educational channels like Discovery and National Geographic but our daily sitcoms. Our Hindi serials and our English ones too. And I've rapidly discovered there is a formula for most things. Especially, especially Romance. Universally romance has a language of flowers and candles peppered by frequent"I love yous"flying around whether it be English American or desi serials. 

Let's tackle our good old desi formula first. The way I see it every time it is necessary, no mandatory to make the heroine slip inadvertently and skid into the arms of the hero and remain in that suspended pose with her leg stuck in the air looking into his eyes for an interminable five to six minutes. And when you figure they've been frozen to death they move with the heroine casting her eyes down coyly and smiling. Draping the heroine over his arm in the classic RK banner pose is what heroes are required to do today. 

The next time it is usually the dupatta or the sari of the heroine which gets caught in the hero's watch or button while the heroine stands in frozen horror wondering who is at the other end of her dupatta only to discover it is caught. That is supposed to signify some bond if you please. If that was not enough you have songs from popular or new films being mouthed by our heroes and heroines in the most absurd dance sequences. The recent dance form endorsed by our Romance gurus is Salsa. I've nothing against it really but it becomes slightly too much to see the heroines being universally thrown into the air like a sack of potatoes(!) -pardon my obsession with potatoes. We watch enough absurd Bollywood movies please. Why not play the songs in the background? Better still have instrumental. 

It is marvelous really the way both Bollywood and Tollywood pay homage to each other. Before every movie launch you have the actors featuring in serials to promote their forthcoming films while Tollywood actors enact scenes from popular movies. But could we please have some innovation in Romance? Instead of the hero or heroine chasing after one another for declarations of love and doing absurd ridiculous things can we have some change please? Instead of red balloons candles pink teddy bears and silk cushions something else please? Instead of a flying dupatta landing on the hero's head and covering his face like a veil something like the scene from Swades perhaps where the heroine steps up to the hero and says in plain unadorned language that she loves him? Or the other way around?  Something more natural? Less absurd? More credible? T.V has more scope for development of plot and character than a movie which is restricted by three hours max. So why not take advantage of that to insert more credibility? Stop using a hashed formula and start doing your own thing. It might not work. Then again it might. TRPs might drop or not. Take a chance. Step out of the box. Stop being an idiot.  We are here. Your audience- for you to make that change. So go ahead and make it. We're waiting. 

About Videshi serials in my next blog next Monday. 

By the way Kudos to Yudh. So far Good! Keep it up! 

What I think

                                           What I Think



Pause. Stop. Reflect.  We go on and on about education, the benefits of it. The advantages. The sheer necessity of it. But what exactly do we mean by it? The dictionary defines education as "the process or art of imparting knowledge, skill and judgement' or "facts, skills and ideas that have been learned either formally or informally."
 To put it in a nutshell, it means acquiring a skill set or knowledge or ideas which equip us to secure jobs in society, earn a living. At least that is the meaning it has dwindled to represent today. We send children to school to learn subjects, to learn about the world around us, to function in a social milieu. They secure good marks or grades, go on to secure even better jobs, lead high powered lives. They learn to wish their teachers, interact with peers, say'Good morning or afternoon or evening" as the case might be. They acquire fluency in languages, be it English or Hindi, and learn to use their skill sets to earn a living. But is that all education should entail?
What good is that education if it cannot teach us basic values, reach into our minds and tear apart the roots of age old prejudices, change our mind sets? If we cannot progress in the real sense of the word? If an engineer or doctor or hotel management graduate can rape without a qualm? What good is that education if a woman feels that another has deserved to be raped because she has invited it - because of her clothes or behavior? Because some women are" like that?" What good is that education if an educated doctor has a family of five just because the first four are girls? What good is that education if an educated executive drawing a five or seven figure salary still believes in dowry albeit couched in polite terminology? What good is that education if we are still bound by the pettiest of superstitions and still think having one child is not "safe?" What good is that education if we vote and elect leaders expecting them to wave wands and perform miracles without realizing what little we do to make sure those miracles happen? What can Modi do? What can anyone do? Give us better cleaner railways? How long before we rip apart those seats, spit on the walls and corridors, fill roads and stations with our trash? Give us power 27/7? How long before we start misusing it? Leaving our taps open just because we have water?

Face it. If education means more money and better lifestyle then we're educated. Otherwise we're not. None of us are. In a country where a people's elected leader can condone rape and pardon the"mistakes" boys make don't you think something needs to be done? And the major change to my mind should begin from the cradle. Teach boys that they cannot make "mistakes" that can damage lives. Teach women it is "safe" to have just one child because our economy is overburdened as it is. So many things to change. So many ways in which to do it. Why not start now? With ourselves?

Make a tiny beginning- no matter how small. How insignificant.

It can be as simple as saying girl or boy one child is enough. Or I'm man enough not to want to subdue a woman by sheer force. At least show that reading all those books, learning about the world around us has paid off in some way. Because if you cannot change your own mindset you are no better than the uneducated lout who knows no better, no matter which brand of car or watch or gadget you might own, or how much salary you might draw. What do you think? This is WHAT I THINK.